This is the follow up to the last chapter which was posted approximately forever ago. This can probably stand alone but I'd really recommend reading Chapter 17: Parental Intervention first. It's short :)
Draco wasn't actually an idiot. He knew- he had known for a while- how he felt about Hermione. It was just that he'd thought that anything beyond friendship with her was impossible. Not because of his parents. Though he had brought her home to visit for Yule that first time during their Eighth Year as a kind of dare to challenge their prejudices.
It had been a childish and petty move and he'd never felt so dressed down as he had when she called him out on his motives. The apology he'd later offered her had changed his life. It had taught him the true meaning of humility and cemented their friendship.
And then, as if to spite him for even attempting to use her in such a way, she'd absolutely charmed the immutable Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Unsurprisingly, his mother had crumbled first in the face of Hermione's refined manners and honest intentions; Narcissa had always wanted a daughter, after all.
But the night that he'd caught her and his father in the library having a spirited debate about spell crafting, when it appeared that Hermione was about to chuck a book at the older wizard in the midst of her irritation and Lucius seemed merely amused by the prospect, he knew that he was well and truly fucked. They loved her as much as he did, he could no longer use them as an excuse to guard his heart.
Which meant that he was doomed. Because it wasn't as if she'd ever actually have him, she was far too good for him. And now nobody else would hold up in comparison. He should have kept Hermione to himself and brought a series of respectable air-heads home to keep his parents satisfied that he was doing his duty to secure a good match.
But then Lucius had gone and talked to him about it. And that had brought into the bright light of day- or, rather, the low light of his father's study- something he could no longer ignore. In fact, that short conversation had given him a sense of urgency he hadn't experienced since his Sixth Year. But now the emotion that he felt wasn't necessarily that of impending doom, though there was a great deal of terror involved with what he did feel.
How long did he think that this woman was going to remain available? Could he live with himself if he didn't even try to make her his? If even his father thought that he had a chance, believed that it was worth risking his dignity for, then maybe it was.
He ran to the floo in his suite but came to a skidding halt in front of the flames as a thought suddenly occurred to him. He spun on his heel and retreated to his study to retrieve the ring he'd inherited from his great-grandmother which he had inexplicably decided to start keeping on hand a year ago.
On second thought, perhaps that decision hadn't been so inexplicable.
Then he ran back to the floo and used it to step straight into her flat, which said far more about their relationship than he'd allowed himself to consider until this moment- that they had unfettered connections to each others' personal spaces. He couldn't remember the last time he'd shut down Hermione's access to his wing of the Manor.
His landing was not graceful and he cursed quietly to himself. Crookshanks deigned to lift his head from where he was napping on the sofa and Draco would have sworn the ancient terror was laughing at him.
"Shut up Old Man," Draco griped. He'd learned over the years that the only way to get even a modicum of respect from the feline was to give absolutely no quarter.
"Don't be mean to Crookshanks," Hermione chastised as she breezed into the room dressed in a pair of pajama bottoms and a jumper that had once belonged to him, looking completely unsurprised by his presence.
"He started it," he responded automatically.
She tutted and sat down next to the cat, reaching out to stroke him. "You know you're always welcome here, but is there a purpose to your visit other than to annoy Crookshanks and presumably to raid the chocolates you brought back from Brussels and pretended were a present for me?"
Her lips twitched in amusement and he had to forcefully redirect his brain to keep himself from simply falling into their familiar banter. It was no longer enough. He allowed his gaze to settle on her and wished for a little of her Gryffindor bravery.
"Father asked to speak with me after you left."
"Oh? Is everything okay?" She asked, and it sounded like she was choosing her words carefully.
She, better than anybody else, understood that he regarded his relationship with his father as something of a house of cards, and how he feared that one wrong move could send it toppling to the ground.
He took a deep breath. "Yes. At least I think so. It's just that he thinks it's time that I settled down and he wanted to discuss it."
"Well," she licked her lips, a telltale sign that she was trying to buy herself time to formulate a response. "How do you feel about that?"
Seeing an opportunity, Draco seized it. "I'm not opposed, with the right witch."
"I see. And you've come to, what? Seek my aid in this endeavor?"
Her face was blank, her words measured, and Draco- who had thought he was being clever by easing into his confession- was struck with the terrible certainty that he'd missed something important.
He'd seen this more than once before, this was how she behaved just before she explained to him all the ways in which he'd been very, very stupid about something. But that just meant that he absolutely could not back out now, because in this short exchange he'd somehow managed to either make her angry, or worse, hurt her, and that was so far from what he'd hoped to accomplish that it was almost laughable. But before he could respond, she continued.
"I'm sorry, but I can't Draco," her voice broke on his name.
"Can't what?"
"Be your wingman, or whatever."
"What?"
"I knew this would happen eventually," her voice broke again, "please just let me get this out while I still can, okay?"
"Okay," he agreed automatically, unable to do anything else when faced with her tear-filled, pleading eyes.
"I treasure our friendship more than anything else in my life, and there is very little that I wouldn't do for you, but I have my limits. It wouldn't be fair to me, or to you, or to any of the witches in question for that matter, for me to essentially help you shop for a wife."
"Shop for a wife?" Draco was aware that he sounded like an idiot, but he couldn't help it. Because, honestly, she thought he wanted her to do what?!
When he voiced this very thought she let out a little growl of frustration. "I don't mean to demean your traditions, but that's what it essentially is. I've seen it done. I'm sure your father has at least one witch in mind."
Draco perked up, thinking he'd found a way to get this conversation back on track. "He does."
"Good then, if it's somebody you think you may be interested in. But don't let him push you around Draco, you deserve to be happy. Find somebody that will make you feel that way. And that's the last I'll say about it, from now on you have my full support, from afar."
Draco just stared at her, even as he was internally starting to panic. "Afar? Why would it be from afar? Where are you going?"
"Not literally, emotionally," she bit out.
"What? Why are you doing that?"
"Jesus!" She stood swiftly and Draco winced. He had learned the hard way that when Hermione swore, it was best to run for cover. When she swore like a muggle, there was no hiding from her. "You're really going to make me say it?!"
"Say what?!"
"That I love you, okay? Are you happy?!"
Draco was, in fact, very happy, but he didn't have time to enjoy it as Hermione was just getting started.
"I know that we're friends, but I recognize that the fact that you're a straight male doesn't give me any right to expect that our friendship would lead you to return my sexual or romantic interest in you. At one point I thought that you might, and so I tried to make sure that you were aware of my affections, but it became clear that I'd misinterpreted your feelings. I do, however, as I stated, have my limits and that includes helping the man that I love find a wife, no matter how much I truly do want you to be happy." She took a deep breath, as Draco stood frozen, gobsmacked. "I'll get past this eventually and hopefully we can go back to a semblance of what we had before, because I don't want to lose you."
"Never." At the devastated look on her face he scrambled to explain. "You'll never lose me. It's you that Father had in mind. That's what I came here to tell you. He told me to go to you, so here I am." He removed the ring box from his pocket and held it out in her direction, hoping to demonstrate how very serious he was.
She stared at him, and his heart leapt when she took a step towards him. "Is that what I think it is?"
"If you think it's a betrothal piece, then yes. Specifically, a ring." He popped the lid of the box open and wiggled it in her direction. "So?" He asked.
"So?" She repeated.
He nodded eagerly and held his breath as she took another step forward and snatched the box out of his hand. His heart swelled with hope, but then she glared at him and, without breaking eye contact, hurled the ring down the corridor in the direction of her bedroom.
She stomped to the floo, called out for the Manor, and was gone before he could begin to process what had just happened. He blinked several times, shook himself, and took off after her. But he found himself unable to follow her. The floo had been locked from the other end.
A rather manic smile overtook his face when he realized what she had done and what it meant.
She was furious- though he didn't understand exactly why.
There was going to be a lot of groveling in his immediate future.
But she was going to be his wife, and that was all that mattered.
0000000000
Lucius wasted no time in joining his wife in their private sitting room after his son had- quite literally- run off to make his intentions known to Hermione. He didn't tell Narcissa what he had discussed with Draco, and she didn't ask, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe she didn't already know. She had probably known before he had even made the decision to have the conversation.
Not half an hour later their peaceful evening was disrupted when Hermione- dressed like what Lucius could only imagine was a muggle street urchin- stomped into the room with a cadre of elves on her heels, all begging her to allow them to assist her.
"I'm fine," she bellowed, before immediately softening, "I don't need anything, thank you," she corrected herself, "you can return to your duties." The elves slowly began to back away, but she didn't appear to notice as she turned her attention to him and leveled a finger in his direction. "Are you honestly under the impression that I can be bought like a new broom, or something else you would procure for your son?" She demanded.
Lucius opened his mouth to respond, and quickly snapped it shut.
"Surely not," Narcissa jumped in, "right, Lucius?" She eyed him warily.
He bristled, insulted that she felt that she even needed to ask. "No," he then turned to Hermione, "no," he repeated for emphasis. "Why would you think that?"
"So you didn't tell him that you thought it was time that he considered marriage and that I was the witch you thought he should settle down with?"
"Well yes, I did say that, after a fashion." Narcissa gasped quietly and he hastened to explain. "But I assure you, I never suggested that you were something to be purchased."
She let out a long breath. "Perhaps you wouldn't see it that way. I know that arranged marriages are still considered quite respectable in wizarding society, but I just can't do it. He deserves better than that, and so do I. I don't care that he can drape me in jewels. I thought you knew me better than to think that would turn my head. And, truly, I'm flattered that you would approve of me for him. But I love him too much to marry him just to please his parents!"
Lucius automatically reached for his wife and squeezed her hand in reassurance. Hermione had said that she loved Draco, so this could still be salvaged. But an arranged marriage? Where in the world had she gotten that impression? Lucius was not completely unfamiliar with how foolish love could make a wizard, but surely his son hadn't bungled the conversation that badly.
"I assure you, I never suggest such an arrangement. I did make a quip about changing your name from Granger to Malfoy, but only because I was under the impression that he loved you deeply and he would desire it, and that he was only hesitating because he believed I would object."
She deflated. He'd never seen her look so small and it was deeply disturbing. "You were mistaken. I assure you, any discussion of love was entirely one sided, my side. Not that it needed to be said. I know it's obvious how I feel about him."
"Not to me."
Draco appeared in the doorway and Hermione immediately readjusted her posture, as if bracing herself against a blow. But he wasn't deterred, in fact he was grinning like a loon, and Lucius briefly considered the possibility that sometime after he'd exited his study, the boy had been hit with a confundus charm. But his eyes were clear and his gait certain as he sauntered into the room.
"You got here faster than I thought you would," Hermione responded. "I thought it would take you longer to re-open the floo."
"I was motivated," Draco quipped, still grinning.
She just looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "What are you so happy about?"
"Only the fact that the witch I love more than I could possibly express- which is the only excuse I have for not even trying to express it before this moment-, and who is beyond my wildest dreams, loves me in return. A witch who even in the face of my very-characteristic cowardice and the most ridiculously bungled proposal since Mr. Darcy at Hunsford, still accepted me."
He removed a small jewelry box from his pocket- presumably containing the jewelry Hermione had assumed was the price of her purchase- and wiggled it in her direction with a besotted smile on his face. Lucius reconsidered the idea that Draco had been confunded and turned to Narcissa to see if she shared this thought, but she was watching the younger couple, a rapt expression on her face.
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "Just to be clear, you are referring to me?"
"Of course I am."
"Well then there's something wrong with your memory because I did no such thing. In fact I distinctly remember throwing that thing," she wrinkled her nose as if she was referring to a pile of dung and not a priceless heirloom, "at you!"
"Oh I remember that, you missed by quite a wide margin."
"Well I wasn't actually trying to hit you, just make a point. That thing is the size of a small planet, it could have hurt you!"
"Thoughtful as ever, Princess. Unnecessary, but thoughtful. It gives me hope that I will survive our union with all of my important bits intact."
Lucius braced himself for another explosion of the little witch's temper when Draco wrapped his arms around her, but she simply leaned into him.
"There is no union, I didn't agree to anything," she protested anew, but it was feeble.
"Maybe not with this," he raised a hand and tapped her lips, "but I presented you with a betrothal offering, and I did it with my whole heart. My words were beyond clumsy, but my magic was certain and true, and yours responded in kind."
"How do you know that?"
"How do you think you were able to shut my floo down, love? What did I tell you the first time we talked about the wards at the Manor?"
Her head fell to his chest. "That only true Malfoys can control them."
"Congratulations, don't you feel that much more special now?"
She snorted, "not even a little bit." He sighed and tried to shove the jewelry box into her hand. "What are you doing?"
"This is yours now."
"Oh," she laughed, "that's cute," she reached up and patted his cheek. "Are you under the impression that tonight gets you out of wooing me? I expect to be swept off of my feet, Malfoy! And if you didn't want to do that then you probably shouldn't have spent years spouting off to me about how much better Malfoys are at everything than everybody else because now I have high expectations."
"No. I mean, of course, you deserve that, love," he stuttered.
"And when the time comes I'll expect a proper proposal. Of course, you'll have to ask my parents for their blessing first."
"Pardon?"
"My parents," she repeated slowly, "it's a muggle tradition, unless you care to explain to them that we've magically claimed each other and that their opinions are unnecessary. You waited to approach me until you had your father's approval, don't you think it's only fair that you seek my parents' as well?"
Draco's eyes went comically wide- Lucius was aware that the Grangers weren't overly impressed with the magical world in general and with his family in particular- but Draco just nodded enthusiastically in agreement. "Anything else?"
Hermione began to toy with the buttons on Draco's robes and it dawned on Lucius that she was toying with Draco as well.
"Well, don't expect for me to let you forget that you just commiserated with Mr. Darcy."
Apparently this statement meant something to the two of them that Lucius couldn't begin to understand, he had never met anybody named 'Darcy.' But Draco immediately relaxed and a smile blossomed on his face. It was full of joy, more glorious than anything Lucius had ever seen from him before. He stooped to place his forehead against hers. "I love you, you evil witch."
"That's more like it, and for future reference that's what you should have led with," she whispered. "I love you too."
Narcissa sighed happily but the other couple didn't appear to hear her. Draco just grabbed Hermione's hand and practically dragged her from the room. After they had disappeared Narcissa turned to him and smirked. "Is that the way you envisioned that unfolding?"
"Who could possibly have envisioned that?" He scoffed.
She grew more serious. "But you do approve?"
"Of course I do, I'm not sure any other witch could put up with him. Foolish boy, I'm not sure where he gets it."
Narcissa smirked at him. "Keep asking yourself that, Lucius."
Lucius pretended not to hear the taunt and said nothing. He certainly didn't tell her that he fully intended to claim full credit for this fortuitous turn of events in the future. And who would be able to argue? Even Hermione had admitted they'd needed his approval. At least that was the way he'd heard it, and nobody would ever be able to convince him otherwise.