A/N - Yah, yah, I know it's been ages (4 months, isn't it? Correct me if I'm wrong) and I'm sorry. My computer has been having a spastic freak-out for the past couple of months, and though still hasn't been taken in yet, I have a replacement. From now on, updates might be even more infrequent than they have been (I have 5 CAs going on right now, a re-sit, plus prep for others), but I really wanna say a huge thank you to everyone who has stuck with it from the beginning or even during the huge wait from the last update. Thanks for all the follows, favourites and reviews, it really means a lot since I sometimes lose faith in this story.
I'm a little bit sorry about this chapter if it is total rubbish, which I'm beginning to feel like it is. I've spent ages caught on this one idea in this chapter and after a while I couldn't think about any alternative routes to take when writing this chapter, so here it is. Doubly sorry if paragraphs just seem...to be in weird places where they don't seem to flow so well.
Hermione tugged at the hem of her dress with her free hand as she descended the stairs, thinking that she was rather dressed-up to eat breakfast. However, looking over to Draco, who was escorting her to the dining room and managing to look scruffy in his own formal clothes (tailored trousers and a white dress shirt); it seemed that dressing this nicely was regular for them.
Draco batted her hand away and smoothed any creases that had been left. "You look beautiful, have I not told you already?" He murmured, kissing her on the cheek. When he pulled back, she couldn't help but notice that his eyes darted around the hall, taking in his sleeping ancestors that were hung on the walls at infrequent intervals. She moved closer towards him.
"In the past 10 minutes? Not once," she said, allowing Draco to guide her to her chair and seat her.
"Well," he said sitting himself on the chair next to hers and leaning over the arm. "If you've forgotten already, then I suppose I'll have to show you again how perfect you are." He grabbed the arm of her chair, pulled her whole seat closer to him, and kissed her softly on the lips. He had only begun to lift his hand to cup her face when Hermione jumped away - banging the table with her knee - at the sound of his mother's voice.
"Let's try keep that to a minimum, shall we? I'm sure you'll have plenty of time for that later tonight."
Narcissa stood behind her chair and smiled warmly at them both. She looked around herself - presumably for Lucius - and with a sigh pulled out her chair and gracefully seated herself. At the silence, with no word of confirmation from either of them, she cleared her throat delicately and arched her eyebrow. "Yes, Draco?"
Draco shot the grinning woman a glare and sunk lower in his seat, sulking, but reached out for Hermione's hand as she shuffled her chair back to its original place.
"Tonight?" Draco grumbled as she pursed her lips and slid her eyes over to look at Hermione, taking in her appearance and her actions. "Why not after this? I was planning on showing her your handiwork in the garden and then going up to the third floor and showing her-"
"I've told you about going up there. You'll get enough hassle on that floor without bringing her with you," she said with a saccharine sweet voice, quickly interrupting him before he could say anything more. Perhaps it was something that she didn't want her knowing about, Hermione thought, keeping her eyes pointedly focused on the mahogany table. "And it's no use lying about it. We both know that the House-Elves do the majority of the garden work."
He huffed and gave Hermione a sideways glance. "I don't care what they have to say to me," Draco said aloofly. "And if they have anything to say about Hermione, then they can shut their damn mouths. I can go there if I so please."
"You are not to go there at all," she said patiently. "Do you remember what happened last time?"
"She deserved it," he sniffed. "She's not even a part of this family; she should be on their walls, sticking her nose into their business. I don't understand why she's here."
"You know why," she said tiredly. "She is an apology gift – a reminder, a memory – and because of that, she shall stay on our walls. And Merlin so help me, Draco Malfoy, you are not going back up to that floor."
"I will be lord of this manor soon," he said petulantly, folding arms in a defiant manner. "I'll go see those stupid portraits and do whatever I want on that floor, if I wish to. I'm not going to let some stupid chit who got herself bloody murdered stop me."
"Draco," Hermione muttered uselessly, reaching out to grab the hand he had withdrawn from her reach, but he continued to distance himself from her. She didn't want to be sitting on the sidelines as he and his mother argued as if she wasn't even there. Even if she did know whom they were talking about, she didn't want to be sitting there listening to it. "It doesn't matter-"
Narcissa quickly shushed her with a wave of her hand, much to the displeasure of Draco; and she watched as Narcissa's eyes briefly trailed over her again, before fixating back onto him. Her lips pursed together tightly to stop herself from frowning. Hermione wasn't sure which one of them it was for.
"Listen here, darling, because I will not repeat myself. You are not a lord yet, and as such you will jolly well do as you're told," Narcissa said sternly, all hints of amusement and smiles erased from her face.
With how snotty and bratty Draco used to be at school, Hermione (and most of the school, she was sure) believed that he was able to get away with anything he wanted at home. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, as some would say, and spoiled into the rotten little boy he was. If she were not there listening to the parental, scolding, no-nonsense tone of Narcissa's voice, she would've continued to believe that was the case. With no room for petulance when dealing with his mother - and Hermione was loath to assume that Lucius would let him become this way - she wondered how he managed to turn out so stubborn.
"If you dare go up there after I have told you specifically not to – with or without your Hermione – then you can kiss all your hard work goodbye. All your plans, your ideas and all the Galleons you're going to need to pay for it - gone! And I mean it. Do we have a deal, Draconis?"
Hermione had a sinking feeling that she was being used as a bargaining chip without knowing, but she could hardly say anything about it with as little information she had.
Draco, by this point was looking positively murderous, his hands clenching and unclenching on the chair's arms. There was a continual dark rumbling coming from the back of his throat, but whether his mother could hear, she didn't know - Narcissa remained impassive. He gave his mother a seething look, before slouching back in his chair and saying, "fine", so roughly that it sounded like the booming of thunder.
She smiled slowly and sharply nodded her head, making Hermione even more wary, wondering how she could smile truthfully after looking so furious. "Good," she said simply, unfolding her napkin and laying it across her lap. "My apologises, Miss Granger; Draco likes to act as if he has control whenever you're involved. I'm sure you've noticed."
Hermione looked at Draco's lap discreetly and saw that he had done the same as his mother. Wondering how long ago he had done it, Hermione tried subtly to move her napkin off from the table and onto her own lap. As she did this, she quickly thought back to all the times where Draco had tried to take charge of a situation because of her and smiled uneasily, looking over at Draco who was sulking again in his seat. "Oh, I've noticed," Hermione said, cringing in her seat when she heard the strain in her voice. After a beat, she quickly added "Mrs Malfoy", horrified that she forgot. She averted her eyes back to the table.
Out the corner of her eye, she saw Draco quirk his lips and wink at her. She blushed lightly. "You say it like it's a bad thing," he said, pouting playfully.
"It's not always a bad thing, I suppose," she replied quietly.
Narcissa hummed in consideration and folded her hand on top of the table. "I was not thinking that it was a problem. Unattractive, however, yes." Draco scoffed and his mother looked at him in distaste. "There's a list of unattractive qualities that you have, darling, and being a show-off is most certainly one of them."
With an eye roll, Draco sat up straight in his chair and released Hermione's hand to fold them in his lap. "Where is father?" He said pleasantly but both women at the table could easily spot the false tone in his voice. "I can only imagine that his presence may – Ah, speak of the Devil."
Lucius only grunted in response to Draco's quip and slid into the chair opposite him, next to his wife. "There's no need to prove to your Mate that you're a brat, Draco. I'm sure she's more than aware already," he commented as he too laid his napkin across his own lap.
Draco growled lowly. Hermione felt rather embarrassed to hear everything they were saying to Draco – and especially for him; perhaps, after all, having meals together wasn't one of her best ideas. She turned to look at Narcissa, who winked at her and smirked. Hermione had an uneasy feeling that she was watching her.
"No matter. What your mother has currently failed to mention to you, is that you shall be extraordinarily busy today, which is why you will not be able to see Miss Granger until later," Lucius drawled, seemingly taking pride in watching Draco contain his anger.
"There will be no disagreements on this, Draco. It is already decided. You will have plenty of time to be with her tomorrow," Narcissa chimed in. "Maybe."
"Maybe?" Draco spluttered, blinking furiously. He looked around frantically a bit more, spending a lot of time gazing in a horrified manner at Hermione. "You're spending more time with her than me! It's not fair!
It was now Hermione's turn to be surprised as she looked between the three Malfoy's quickly, wondering why she was spending time with either of his parents without him – or why they even wanted to be in her presence without their son with her in the first place.
"I'm not arguing about this with you either, darling," Narcissa was saying sternly. Draco was leaning forward in his chair, looking frustrated. "You must and will go into Diagon Alley and pick up your suit. Today. And for Merlin's sake, you better damn well get a new mask – something different. Then you will come straight back here and accompany me to Paris. Once that is done we'll see what else needs to be resolved before the Ball."
Before Draco could retort, Narcissa or Lucius could call him a brat or scold him again – or before Hermione even had a question directed at her for once – the House-Elves began to lay the table with silverware and brought out the different breakfast dishes, plunging the family into a pregnant silence.
Hermione swore that she could feel multiple eyes upon her – not just Narcissa and Lucius', which were probably watching her in amusement, waiting for her to start going on a tirade about House-Elf rights. She could feel resentment bubbling up inside her for the enslavement of the helpless creatures, but someone nudged her leg with their foot and she looked up to see Draco looking at her, concerned.
She just stared back at him, trying to use him as a distraction to the blatant slavery around her. Draco's eyebrows pulled together and he leaned over his chair to whisper something to her, to ask what was wrong, when a House-Elf walked in between them both and attempted to place a heavy silver platter of sausages on a table that was out of its reach by a couple of inches. Draco's eyes fixed onto the Elf that was creating a barrier between him and his Mate, and looked back up at her with a realisation.
Reaching out, he carefully helped the House-Elf place the platter onto the table, and pushed it forward to where the others were being laid out. He smiled sheepishly at the Elf's angry scowl and shrugged lightly, then turned slightly to the side to look at his parents' expressions. They didn't even seem to have noticed. He turned back to look at Hermione who was staring at him curiously.
Draco cocked his head to the side and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. At first, Hermione was frustrated at him, mistaking it for a look of amusement; but then she looked harder and she knew that look; "don't you remember?" he was trying to say. And, suddenly, Hermione did. She remembered Draco telling her that his mother had offered freedom to them; offered clothes and wages and they still denied them.
Hermione smiled tightly and tried to let some of her anger go. They had tried, and that was good enough she supposed. At least they were offered the option, unlike some.
"And that was exactly why we're never eating with them again," Draco seethed, throwing open the doors to the balcony. A cold gust of air blew into the room, catching in the curtains and dropping the room's temperature.
Hermione shivered, goose bumps pebbling on her exposed arms. Draco seemed unaffected and continued marching forward, onto the balcony.
"Fucking hell," he muttered. He kicked the metal railings on the balcony, causing it to dent, and released a roar of anger.
Hermione stood in the middle of his room, slightly scared of his rage, but mostly unimpressed at his temper tantrum. Things could've been worse, the way she saw it; but maybe she was biased because none of the insults or quips were directed at her, surprisingly. Either way, this was the angriest she had ever seen someone - and over the years she had bared witness to some of the worst Weasley tantrums.
She called his name as he started pacing on the balcony, yelling and ranting in the cold, not really knowing what she should do - or what she could do to stop him.
She knew that Veelas didn't hurt their Mates - or, at least, they didn't want to, Hermione thought after reflecting back to times when he had inflicted some amount of pain onto her, before she knew. Maybe even before he knew.
She was afraid of him for a while after those incidents; he was stronger, faster and more temperamental than other wizards she knew. In addition, spells seemed to have no affect on him, unless used a particular number of times. In all but some ways, he was like the Incredible Hulk when he got angry.
However, she didn't think he'd do it again. That was before he loved her. You were supposed to protect the people you loved; you weren't supposed to cause them pain, right?
His hands were quickly catching fire, but he wasn't throwing it. Probably not quite angry enough to ruin their garden. Nevertheless, he was angry enough to melt the balcony railings, it seemed.
After hearing her voice, his whole body jerked around suddenly to face her. His attention was immediately hers.
Hermione, suddenly, wasn't sure whether she wanted it anymore.
Draco's eyes were as black as midnight, his body trembling with barely contained fury. He seemed bigger too; not just taller, but bulkier, and as he strode towards her, Hermione once again thought of him as a speeding train that was going to crash into her. She saw his mouth moving as he came closer to her, but whatever nonsensical words he was muttering to himself, she couldn't hear them or make sense of his mouth movements.
Before she could take a step back to put some distance between them, his hands had already roughly grabbed her face. Hermione flinched and gasped at the harness of his touch, but he didn't seem to notice. She lifted her hand to brush his away, but he didn't budge. With sudden panic and dread riding up inside her, her hands began pushing at him harder; but still he didn't move.
She was worried that he hadn't backed off yet; he would back off if he saw she wasn't okay, wouldn't he? He would've noticed she flinched. He would've let go. Where is my wand, she suddenly wondered, searching around the room with her eyes. She left it up here at Draco's insistence that she wouldn't need it during breakfast, but where did he put it? If he were to do something to her, she would be powerless to fight him off.
He only brought his face closer to hers, closing any gaps between them. Their noses were touching, and every breath that he expelled flowed straight into her mouth, still open in shock. "They don't understand," he murmured, pushing locks of hair away from her neck. "They can't protect you. They can't protect you like I can."
"Draco," she said pleaded, trying again to push him away and move from his grasp.
He only growled and pulled her body closer still. "I want to keep you safe. There's too much danger; I can't protect you if you're away from me," he said in between placing sloppy kisses on her exposed throat. His breathing was becoming harsher. "I won't let them take you. I won't."
"Draco, please," she said in a firmer voice, struggling in his hold. "I don't like this. Let me go."
He grabbed her arms and shook her violently, stopping her thrashing, scaring her rigid. "I don't like this. Don't you see, Hermione? They're the danger!" He roared, his hands tightening their hold and his nails biting into her skin. There would be fingerprint bruises and crescent shapes dug into her upper arms, when - or if - he finally released. Hermione ducked her head down, unable to cover her ears from the loudness of his voice. A lonesome tear ran down her face and onto the carpet. He wasn't relenting, and this wasn't the Christmas she had imagined. She almost wished that she had just gone home, despite what her mother said.
This was like before, but only worse, Hermione thought.
"Merlin, they want to take you away from me! They're going to kill me this way - and you'll never be as happy as you could be," he muttered darkly. "They could kill you, and get rid of us both easily. You don't want to die, do you, Hermione? I'll protect you, I'll keep you safe."
Suddenly, his eyes flashed, and he loosened his hold on her. He brought one of his hands up to brush away the tears that were sliding down her cheeks, and caressed her cheek with a gentleness that seemed alien. Hermione flinched again, and tried to brush his hand away. He only dodged it and began to shush her, in a hope to calm her down.
"You're scaring me, Malfoy," she said firmly, taking a step backwards. It was as if he had a split personality. Draco grimaced slightly, looking away from her for a moment. Her heart lifted a little at his look, hoping that the Draco she knew and loved was finally back, not whatever monster this was. He blinked and his black eyes lightened.
Once he seemed to have recovered from whatever possessed him in those moments, he gave her a look that one would give when looking at a frightened child, and followed after her.
"I know, Hermione. I know," he said softly, rubbing her arm when he was within in reach of her. "It's a scary thought, but I won't let that happen to us."
And with those words, Hermione's stomach dropped as she realised that he was misinterpreting her fear. He was still not the Draco she trusted and loved. She had a feeling that she did know what possessed him, but she couldn't begin to understand why. Why now, of all times?
Feeling sick, and having a sudden desperation to participate in their Ball arrangements with Narcissa, Hermione couldn't help but wonder where his parents were. Lucius was a Veela, wasn't he? Surely his heightened hearing would be able to hear what's going on in this room. She wondered whether they were ever coming, if they did know. Only his father would be able to match his strength.
He nuzzled his cheek into hers and whispered in her ear. Hermione tried to stay as still as possible, as if he would be like a predator that would get bored if there were no movement from its prey. "Bond with me, my Mate." He nibbled her ear, and this time Hermione stepped backwards. His grip only tightened again. "Bond with me, and they'll never separate us again. I love you, I-"
"Draco," his mother's voice called from behind the door as she rapped her knuckles against the wood. She didn't sound happy at all. Hermione didn't quite let herself feel relieved yet.
She felt Draco stiffen and look towards his door, as if he could see through it. He sniffed audibly and made a rumbling noise in the back of his throat.
"We'll talk later," he promised as he released her completely.
Hermione really hoped they didn't.
Within a blink of an eye, his whole demeanour relaxed - and with a blink of an eye, his eyes had changed back to his usual slate grey. He looked down at her, oblivious to what had happened but concerned that she looked so shaken.
"Draconis. Open the door," Lucius said, knocking harsher than Narcissa said. "We made our own deal."
Draco looked towards the door, then back at her, looking boyish in his obliviousness and without the rage of moments ago. He saw the marks on her arms and his eyes immediately dropped down to his hands, turning them over slowly, as if he could see marks on his own skin from where he had touched her. When he looked back up, Hermione was still standing there, frozen in place. With such a look of self-loathing on his face and sadness, from the droop of his eyes, she was half-worried that he was going to flip back. She cautiously stepped backwards, testing the waters.
He dropped to his knees, clutching his heart and crying out (Hermione jumped in fear that the sudden loud noise) - the pain only confirming his worst fears. He was becoming like her, that little bitch whom he should have never, ever of spoken to. "I'm sorry. Oh Merlin, I'm so sorry," he cried hoarsely into his chest. "Go. Please, Mia; go."
Long after the pain ended, he continued to lie on the floor, sobbing.
Hermione didn't need to be told twice, despite being curious over the name Mia and feeling small amounts of pity and sympathy pulling at her heart. She had an instinctual urge to stay and comfort him.
Instead, she wiped away any remains of tears on her face as she walked to the door to open it, telling herself that it was just the Veela connection that was making the feelings so insistent. Before she could touch the doorknob, Draco muttered what she recognised to be an unlocking charm behind her, and it swung open. Lucius swept in immediately and nudged Hermione out the way and towards the door, where Narcissa quickly grabbed her and ushered her down the hall.
She didn't know where she was being taken or where they had gone, but after a few minutes, she found herself in the kitchen, having a salve rubbed gently onto her arms by Narcissa, despite being surrounded by House-Elves. Hermione sat in silence, while Mrs Malfoy chatted to her, despite knowing that she wouldn't get a reply. "Do not worry about a thing, Miss Granger. We will get you a pretty little dress that will cover these up if they are not gone by then," Narcissa rambled as she smeared more paste on Hermione's upper arms. For a heartbeat, she considered correcting her, and asking her to call her Hermione - but as quick as the thought appeared, it vanished.
Narcissa waited a moment, as if she had saw that Hermione had wanted to say something, but she never took her cue and after clearing her throat delicately, Narcissa continued speaking. Hermione wasn't sure whether she welcomed the distraction or not, or even if she wanted her to give some form of explanation. Was she supposed to think in the past, live in the present as it came, or continue planning ahead in the future? What was she supposed to make of that?
She smiled brightly at her. "Did Draco ever ask you if you could dance before you left school, Miss Granger?" No answer; but Hermione's blank eyes shifted to her. "Oh no, I suppose he did not have much time to ask. Well. We will soon find out, will we not?" She lowered her voice as if it was some secret, and Hermione's ears perked up a bit; a distraction was what she wanted, she decided then." I am taking you dancing today, so you can learn the steps to yours and Draco's first dance - and the others."
She put the lid back onto the salve and handed it to a waiting House-Elf, who immediately ran off to put it back in its original place. She wiped her hands on an offered cloth.
Hermione didn't even know that she had to dance at this Ball. She thought that she'd be able to get away with standing around the whole night with Draco while everyone else danced. Draco wasn't keen on dancing; the plan had seemed reasonably flawless, until now. She didn't think her face showed her surprise or her disappointment, and she was glad as Narcissa was evidently excited at the prospect.
Narcissa reached out and lightly placed her fingertips on Hermione's cheek, brushing along the bones, taking note of the slight redness on the skin. Hermione flinched at first, but when she noticed how fast her hand withdrew at her discomfort, she relaxed slightly. "This morning I thought it would be a horrid idea for you both to go up to the third floor. No doubt the both of you would come across a particular portrait there," she confessed, folding her hands on her lap. "But now...I think it is best that you both do go. It might do some good." She smiled tiredly. "We had thought to test him this morning at breakfast, Miss Granger. It was ill timed on our part, I am sorry. Perhaps we pushed him too hard, but we had hoped he was not this bad. We did not think he would have..." Her eyes drifted to the tops of her arms, "acted this way. Obviously it needs to be dealt with right away, but I am not sure if there is a lot me and Lucius can do."
"It was his Veela, wasn't it?" Hermione whispered. "It's...stronger. He was-"
"-angry," she finished, quickly. "A fatal flaw of his, I must say. He will have an easier time controlling himself if he doesn't get so angry."
Silence passed as Hermione lapsed back into quiet again, thinking on everything. After a few moments, Narcissa hummed quietly to herself, before standing up and wondering further into the kitchen, without an explanation. Hermione only watched her leave, and return with a glass of a milky white liquid that she set down in front of her. She looked at it dubiously.
"It will help," Narcissa said encouragingly. Her eyes were fixed on the door behind her, as if someone was there; but when Hermione turned around there wasn't anyone or anything - only House-Elves. "With the healing and - shock," she added.
If they kill me, they kill their son, Hermione repeated mentally, reaching for the glass. She took in a deep breath. They love their son.
She finished it in several gulps.
It was the first time, Hermione thought, that she had seen Narcissa look grim. She wondered what was wrong.
When Hermione's dance lesson was finished, she ached all over. Yet, she was proud of herself, having learned the entire dance in a few hours, and parts of the others. Although, she hadn't practiced any of them with Draco himself yet, which she had thought was strange as everyone danced differently. She hoped that they weren't going to make fools of themselves on the day, that being the first time they had danced together. Nevertheless, she was rather confident that they weren't going to; maybe they won't be as smooth as they could be, but she didn't think it'd be a disaster.
Instead, she had practiced with the instructor. He- Josef – was as tall as he was broad, but he still managed to move lithely and gracefully; but that wasn't much of a surprise considering his soft face, which hinted that he was younger than 30. Hermione had liked him enough and thought him rather handsome, though there was a communication difficulty between them, seeing as she had a limited understanding of French. Narcissa, however, seemed well versed in the language and was able to speak enough for the both of all three of them; although, through patience and some miming, they were able to understand each other well enough, which was a good thing considering that he was coming back to the Manor later to continue the lesson.
Hermione had also felt that Narcissa was proud too, but it wasn't quite in a friendly way and it wasn't quite in a motherly way. She wasn't sure what she thought of her yet. She had seemed amicable enough in the studio and on the way there and back, but...she was the wife of Lucius Malfoy and the sister of Bellatrix Lestrange, she surely couldn't be so calm about her dirtying their bloodline. Hermione had promised Draco that she would give his family a chance though, and Narcissa had seemed sincere enough, but...There was just something about Narcissa, and Lucius – and perhaps even the Manor - that was making Hermione continue being cautious. When Narcissa danced alongside Hermione however, her eyes were never able to look away from her for long; she was graceful and practiced - something Hermione wasn't at the start. Overall, it had taken a lot of effort from Narcissa, but after a while, she had started feeling as if she was warming to her.
Still, Hermione remembered the grim look on her face before they had Apparated to the studio, and it hadn't gone until after the first half hour. After it had gone, it helped Hermione to relax a little bit more, knowing that she wasn't being taken anywhere that could lead to a premature death - or somewhere to have torture inflicted upon her. Tomorrow, Narcissa had said, they would find a dress for her to wear to the Ball, as well as a mask - and oh! There is also a little surprise for you, before we do all that. I will send a House-Elf to fetch you tomorrow; you will have some time with Draco first. You need to talk to each other, I think.
Hermione tried to hide her confusion at that remark. She didn't know in the least what she and Draco would need to talk about together, but it wasn't as if she wanted to refuse any time that they would have with each other.
Sometime during all the dance practices and dress discussions, Hermione couldn't help but think that she was being made into a perfect Pureblood girl, the perfect Malfoy daughter – or Malfoy wife, for that matter. That only seemed to add to her cautiousness and continue to complicate her pre-determined image of Narcissa.
When they arrived back at the Manor, Hermione was given a House-Elf to escort her back to her room, as she was still relatively new to its long halls and corridors and both women knew that Hermione would sooner get lost in the twists and turns before she made it anywhere near her destination. As they reached her and Draco's shared room, Hermione reflected on the fact that she most likely had the scent of the dance instructor all over her, which she knew Draco (or any Veela, really) wouldn't take well. She knew how possessive he could get with other males, reflecting back on their first date at Madam Puddifoot's – and even before that, with Jayson Innes. Moreover, Hermione couldn't help but wonder what would happen when he came back from Paris and found Josef dancing with her?
Pushing open the door, Hermione prepared herself for a jealous Draco, who was probably going to fire questions at her as soon as the door was ajar. Instead, she found him sprawled on the floor by his bed, groaning and struggling to push himself back up. Quickly, Hermione ran over to where he was to give him a helping hand, but when she touched his back, he spat at her. "I told you to leave me alone! I don't want fucking help with everything," he said, the words slurring together slightly.
"Don't be a bloody idiot, Malfoy. You can't get up yourself," Hermione snapped back, ignoring the sting of his words.
He turned his head, which was previously not looking at her. His eyes were unfocused, but when he realised who it was, he smiled goofily. With some extra strength that seemed to be fuelled from seeing her, he managed to push himself into shaky legs and use his bedposts for balance. "I'm sorry about saying that," he said sheepishly, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. "The House-Elves have been in and out of here for the past couple of hours fretting over me. It's like they think I'm incompetent now."
He laughed, but soon stopped when he realised that Hermione was looking at him confused and frowning. "How come you didn't know it was me when I came in?"
"What?" He said, propping himself up against the bedpost. He blinked more furiously now, trying to get his eyes focused. "I - of course I did."
"You thought I was a House-Elf," she reminded him gently. "Please don't lie to me."
"I – uh," he stuttered. Hermione had never known him to have such difficulty in trying to speak, and it was rather insulting to see his eyes search around the room as if he could find an answer on the walls. He sighed and looked away, his gaze coming to rest on the tops of her arms before looking quickly away and making a weak fist by his side.
Hermione looked to her own upper arms, and frowned at the bruising she saw there. When did I get that? She wondered. She could only think that it must've been from dancing, but Josef had only touched her lightly as far as she remembered; and Draco didn't seem to be the least bit concerned that someone had marked her skin. There was something wrong with him, something different about him. She reached out to touch him, as if she could feel what was missing.
Her hand had barely stretched out towards him before he had grabbed it with both of his hands, and lowered himself onto the bed, leaving Hermione standing in front of him. He wanted to establish a height difference between them; he wanted Hermione to feel superior in this case, he wanted her to be the one that had all the power and he wanted her to feel as if she did for once. It was her decision this time. "I love you Hermione, I promise you I do," he said, his mouth slowly forming the words. His mind still felt as if it was full of cotton wool, as if all that cotton wool could fill the void in the back of his mind that had never been vacant a day in his life. "You understand that, right? You know I would never hurt you in any way on...purpose."
This is difficult, he thought, licking his lips nervously. His father had never needed to do anything like this, he knew that much; but he wondered whether anyone else had, and what had happened to them afterwards. He knew that Lysandra had suffered through something similar but – No, that's not going to happen, he fervently reminded himself. Not with Hermione.
Hermione's eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, not knowing where this profession was coming from. She placed her other hand on top of both of his and squeeze them reassuringly. "Of course I do. Draco, what is-?"
He quickly shushed her. "I'm going to tell you, okay? Be patient," he said, smiling to himself ruefully. "Look, I want to tell you and explain to you some things, alright? I just...I need you to understand – I, uh, I need you to know what parts of this relationship has been based on, how some things started. I need you to understand what the rest of your visit here might be like, because I don't want to trap you." He moved one of his hands away to brush her upper arm, his thumb running over the fading bruises. He then moved his hand away and fiddled with the bracelet he had sent to her all those weeks ago; clasped around her right wrist since the day she got it. "And I'm sorry, Hermione. You can leave at any time you want to; you can leave the Manor all together if you want and you can let me die and will never hold it against you."
Hermione nodded her head and Draco took in a deep breath, prepared to get it all off his chest.
He began with reminding her about when he transferred some of his pain onto her; and she held onto his hands tighter as if she could pass on her strength.
Draco apologised for it, of course, and then explained why he had done it to her in the first place - completely truthful in everything he said. He explained that he had known that he was a Veela then, and had recently discovered that he could have been wrong about his Mate - that it could've been her instead of Ginny.
After that, he felt somewhat lighter. However, he could no longer bear to look at her; he stared at his lap instead, and decided to continue with all the bad things that had happened.
He followed his first confession with the reminder of their first date when he had beaten up the waiter, Aries Parker, and even made her recall when he had latched onto the 5th Year Ravenclaw, Jayson Innes. Before moving on to anything else, Draco made sure to tell her why there was such animosity between him and Innes, that it was because Lucius had murdered their father during the War, and he had still not been arrested or sent to Azkaban. As well as being jealous of her and Innes together, Draco was also nervous that she could've been used in a revenge plot. He then admitted that there had been another time before either of those, where he had been as aggressive to a male in her presence, and quietly told her that it was in fact, Ronald Weasley. Draco told her that it was when they were in Potions, and she had passed out because they had touched; he had being trying to protect her, he said, and that was all he remembered. Then there was the time after that, sometime in the middle of all of the previously mentioned attacks, when he had returned from the trial over Innes' attack and was conscious of scaring her off by more attacks. Still, he was unable to let males look at her with something as little as an appreciative glance and he bullied younger Slytherins with a knack for violence to sort them out for him without being incriminated.
Draco wasn't even sure whether Weasley had already told her about their fight, since there was barely any contact between them; and for some reason, he couldn't work out if he liked their limited contact or not. As for him confessing to having cronies do his dirty work for him – he wouldn't be surprised if she had already strongly suspected that that was the case.
He then half-heartedly told her that once; he had gotten into a fight with Potter and Weasley while she was there, and used his Veela Charms to use her as a weapon against them. At Hermione's confused, yet slightly familiar look, he explained (and repented) about how, like when he slipped into the Veela, when he used his Charms, she didn't usually remember – like how ("not that you'd know, of course. Well, you might remember...bits") before they got together they'd spend time just kissing in the corridor. It was non-consensual, he said painfully, and he was sorry if it misplaced some of her trust in him. After that, he quickly went back to his original point about their small scrap in the corridor. He said that Blaise and Luna had come and stupefied her friends before they could get themselves in trouble or any bigger fight, and then later obliviated them in case they had remembered just what he was taunting them about. Once the four of them left, Draco was left alone with her, and that was how her library book on dreams and Veelas were bookmarked, specifically for her interests. He was trying to lead her to the evidence quicker, he said; but after he took her back to the common room, he obliviated her too.
Lastly, on his list of everything that he had done wrong, he spoke about what had happened today. "My parent's, Hermione. I...I don't hate them. I don't. And you shouldn't either," he said thickly. "If you feel that there has to be someone to hate or blame for this, then please, let it be me." Of everything that he had come clean about, this was the one that had hurt Draco the most, had made him feel the most guilty; and the fact that it had only happened hours ago, still weighed heavily on his heart and stung. "You won't remember what happened, my sweet, and maybe it's best that you don't. My mother gave you Aelin's Antidote before you went dancing – which is ironically made from forget-me-nots." He nervously snorted. "As I said, you're not likely to remember it, Hermione. It's...irreversible, unlike obliviate – and, well, stops clearing after the most recent traumatic memory. St Mungo's like to use it."
He cleared his throat and closed his eyes, replaying the memory in his head. "This morning, my parents thought to see how far they could push me before I lost control – and rightly so. I'm glad they did. I didn't know it had gotten so... Since I've been sick, Hermione, I've had less and less control over myself; maybe it has something to do with the potion - and maybe it doesn't, but you might not be as safe as you once were. At least, until I learn to control myself again
I was very angry after our breakfast, and I...I just slipped into the Veela. You must understand me, Hermione. I didn't lie to you when I said that Veelas would never hurt their Mates – it's just a little more complicated than that. They would never hurt them usually when they're in control, but sometimes they just...slip, and then they're too far-gone and all they know is fear or anger or jealousy and nothing can pierce that veil.
He sighed heavily, drifting in and out of his deep thoughts. "I was, uh, going to tell you the good things that I've done now, but..." He sighed again, resigned. "Saying everything aloud - it's clear that it's not about to change anything that happened."
They wallowed in silence for a few moments, until he felt a growing wetness on his hands that he knew wasn't coming from him. His already chipped heart shattered even further when a small hand, that was also damp, lifted his face towards her own and forced him to see the damage that he'd done. He shook his head and released her hands, muttering to himself and distancing himself from her.
"Go," he whispered, scrambling backwards. "I can't take this. Please. Oh please."
" No, no, Malfoy," she whined. Hermione shook her own head, and moved after him on the bed. Wiping her tears away with the back of her hand so that she could see better, she managed to back him up against the headboard then cease any movements by pinning him.
"Merlin, look how miserable I've made you," he said in a self-loathing voice. He reached up, in a last act of gentleness that he was sure to have, and began to brush away tears that were dropping on his face. Then, suddenly, her hands were inside his and pressing them back down at his sides, and her warm, salty lips were on his and Draco wasn't sure whether he had ever known what she was thinking.
She pulled away and stared down unblinkingly at him, the corner of her lip twitching as if she wanted to smile, but couldn't so long as tears were dripping down her face.
"What are you doing?" He gasped.
"I love you," she said simply. "I know it."
"No," Draco told her. Suddenly his heart had mended itself, but was now too fat and swollen and so close to exploding that it was just as painful. "You don't. You can't."
Hermione frowned and the tears stopped. "Yes. I do," she said. "You told me, Draco - that's what matters. Not how many good acts that you've done to even out the bad, or even how long you've lied for - well, actually, it would've been better if you had admitted earlier." She smiled, and it was so astoundingly normal and pretty, that Draco couldn't believe that he thought he could live to the end of his lifespan without it. "You've been waiting to hear those words for so long, and now I've said them. I've said it, Draco. I. Love. You. And I believe them. I'm committed, and want to say them until I die because the truth must always be said."
Draco had wanted her to say it for a long time, she was right. He knew she was. However, he didn't think this was how he expected her to know. He shuffled slightly, holding Hermione in place on his lap as she prepared to move, and sat up against the headboard. "I don't understand," he said, shaking his head. "I abused you, Hermione. I don't want to be that person - I never intended to be that person to you, but I was, and neither of us know if it could happen again."
She looked sad again, and Draco tried not to feel guilty. He was being truthful and realistic about this; he could go to his grave knowing what he'd done. "Please sound a little like you want to try. Like you still want me."
He smiled a little. "I never stop wanting you." He closed his eyes and looked down. "But..."
"But you're scared for my safety, of course you are," she said gently. Hermione grinned. "I don't care. You wanted to give me a choice, and here's my decision: I'm staying. We'll just have to always keep you happy."
" It's not going to be that easy," he said quietly. He didn't want to cave in to her persuading, but he was oh so selfish and the more she spoke the more tempted he became. It was a nice picture she was painting...but all Draco could see we're the sharp, angular features of Lysandra - the definitive contrast of what he wanted.
She took his head in both her hands and leaned in close. "Have you ever fought for something, Draco? It's never easy."
She kissed him again, and Draco let his selfishness consume him for one moment as he savoured and reciprocated the satisfaction. "I do love you," he said, as if she wasn't sure.
"I love you too," she said instantaneously. "So. Are we going to do what everyone else does and cope or are you going to let me slip through your fingers again?"
He remembered how horrid he felt whenever they were apart for even a few hours, and how much worse it was whenever they fought or weren't speaking to each other. Draco remembered the rage, the need to destroy everything as wretchedly as he destroyed a delicate thread on the string that held them together each time something went wrong. Each time Fate thought to test them, ruin them, and break them, only for them to find their way back to each other again.
Most importantly, Draco remembered the first time he had watched her slip away. He hadn't known then, of course, and neither did she - but that didn't matter. Because what really mattered was that they didn't need the knowledge of what they knew now about Veelas to keep them together. Back then, they had had each other and that was enough. He hoped it was a sign, and that it was enough - because they miraculously found their way back to each other only years later.
With her, he knew he had a purpose. He was to protect her, make her smile and give her everything that she needed and deserved. And so long as she was happy, he wouldn't be the one to shove his needs and fears to first place, in front of hers. It was time he stopped running and accepting, but instead fought - fought like his little brave Gryffindor. It was something I could do, he thought. It was something I could try.
"Okay," he whispered.
Hermione beamed and kissed him again. He felt lighter. "Okay?" She asked.
"I love you," he said in confirmation.
"I love you."
He smiled and basked in the feeling of it for a moment. "So, I suppose we should get ready for dancing now, then. Josef should be here soon," he said casually, lying back down on the pillows and stretching.
Hermione looked at him confused, but rolled off the bed anyway and begun preparing for the dance lesson she was thankfully reminded of. "No," she said slowly, trying her hair up in a high ponytail. "You're supposed to be going to Paris with your mother, remember?"
He snorted. "Do you think she would've let me stay here for so long if we were? She probably took my father, which means that my - our - introduction into society is for definite. They weren't so sure originally, but..." He shrugged. "I suppose she's clearly decided that you can foxtrot."
She blanched. "Introduction into society?" She repeated. "What does that mean?"
He laughed, rolling off the bed. He kissed her firmly on the lips. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it. Everyone - Pureblood, that is - has this big celebration when they turn 18, where they're formally introduced into the rest of society. Traditionally, only heirs have this privilege so others can see what they'd be inheriting and matches would be made then, perhaps. Obviously, my parents are still unsure about what...what your motives are and so are moving mine forward in case I do perish before my eighteenth."
Hermione nodded her head and resumed getting ready to go to the ballroom. She was stopped momentarily as Draco took her hands and twisted her around to face him.
"You do understand what you said, don't you? About loving me and being committed, Hermione." He shifted nervously. "You promised to Bond with me. That you will - no 'maybes' and 'I probably will' and 'soon'. When the time comes - when I ask you to uphold your promise and commit yourself fully, you'll do it?"
She laughed and looked at him as if he was an adorable, silly child. Draco was suddenly panicked that she didn't think he was serious and was joking about her entire implied promise, when it was in fact the most serious he had ever felt. If she thinks it's a joke, he thought, maybe I should start laughing too.
And he was just about to do that, when she buried her face in his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Draco Malfoy, you act as if I don't know what I'm getting myself into. I'm the Brightest Witch of Her Age, remember?"
A/N - Please follow, favourite and review!