Chapter 12: The Engagement Party
Six and a Half Years Ago...
Hermione's memory of Draco's romantic ultimatum was broken by the pop of Gaius the house-elf.
With a gravelly voice, he growled, "Madam, the Master's gown is in the wardrobe for your review."
"Thank you Gaius, I will look at it." She called over her shoulder.
Once she heard the second pop, she gave a short sigh, too nervous to look but too excited to pretend she was interested in anything else. Pulling her robe tighter, she slowly opened the doors and gasped.
Although she had replaced the gowns turned to ribbons last year, the reality was that she didn't need to buy new clothes very often. Draco undoubtedly knew this and, in his usual style, went above and beyond.
"Gaius, are those diamonds?" She asked the house-elf.
"Of course Madam Malfoy." The elf gleaned from his place by the wardrobe. "Although I had to go to Canada to buys them Madam."
Shocked, she turned her head to meet his saucer-shaped eyes. "North America? Why?"
"Non-conflict diamonds, Madam. Master insisted, ridiculous I'd say-" Gaius took a sharp breath to begin what would certainly be a rant.
"Thank you, Gaius, you are dismissed," Hermione interjected. He won't stop talking if I let him go on now, she thought. Besides, she thought, I need to take this in.
The gown was simply too much. Silk emerald green was so dark it was almost black, covered, absolutely covered in diamonds. The sweetheart neckline was combined with a set of sheer sleeves, probably added so that her smaller breasts didn't have to hold up the hundreds of diamonds.
Taking this masterpiece out of the wardrobe, she turned the hanger around in her hands to view the back or lack thereof. Only a deep v of missing fabric remained, so low she knew she would have to take off the knickers she had only just put on.
Is this really what I want? She asked herself. Was this really worth it? To be a man's sloppy seconds, his backup choice. Could she live down the shame of knowing that most of the upper class would forever remember her husband running out to the Peacock gardens with Pansy?
She rolled the fabric in her fingers, making sure not to disturb the diamonds from their placements. Was he just trying to buy her? To breed with her before finding another, or just to pass the time?
After what felt like a long time, she came to the conclusion that he was her only husband and that he had made this request without coaxing her. If it was a lie, at least she would be able to rub this exquisite dress in front of the blonde harlot. But if it was true, it could mean that they could continue on as before, perhaps for always.
Can I risk my feelings...again? She thought.
Hermione called over her shoulder, careful not to disrupt her spell-crafted up-do to her new lady-in-waiting. "Silvy?"
A call came from deep within the bathroom; no doubt the red-haired woman was looking for the moisturizer she asked for ages ago. "Yes, Milady?"
"I am sorry to disrupt you, Silvy, but I will certainly need your assistance with this blatant display of arrogance..."
Over 30 minutes later, and fashionably late, Hermione left through The Griffin Door of her rooms and moved to the top of the grand staircase. She knew he would be waiting at the bottom, probably irritated with her, as guests had probably begun arriving.
To her surprise, he was waiting for her in his parent's wing, just outside the view of their guests but directly across from her. His face was completely blank, unyielding of any emotions.
Her chest began to tighten; her breath came faster; maybe he had changed his mind, maybe he saw her and realized that she was only pretending, an imposter in this great house. That he had made a mistake. She didn't believe any of these things about herself, of course, but Draco Malfoy is a Douche Bag. He could probably convince himself of anything.
Slowly, she took a step forward, squaring her shoulders, determined to make the most out of a very uncomfortable dressing experience, regardless of her idiot husband.
Suddenly the blonde man stepped forward.
She didn't slow her pace, they were evenly spaced apart, and she wouldn't wait for him.
She wouldn't have to.
He matched her steps at first, and as she picked up her pace to the staircase, he matched that too.
Within moments he was within arm's reach of her. Still, he stared, still betraying not even a thought.
Not wanting to blow him off, she hesitated just a moment. Long enough for him to reach out a hand palm up, waiting for her hand with a deep bow.
Cautiously she held out her hand to him, and he took it lightly, standing up straighter than she had ever seen him before and meeting her eyes with grey steel. Pulling her hand to his lips, he brushed her knuckles against his bottom lip, not taking his gaze off of her.
After making sure he had her attention, he gently took the knuckle of her index finger and gently placed it between his teeth. Firmly enough to leave a mark, but not enough that the mark would last until the bottom of the stairs.
Finally, he lowered his arm, leaving her hand in his, slowly coaxing blood back into the mark he had made.
"Good evening Madam Malfoy," He purred.
"Master Malfoy," she smirked back at him, refusing to blush or be the first to break the gaze.
Thankfully, Draco broke the silence first. "Are you teasing me?" He asked.
Confused, the brunette lifted a brow, turning her head to the side, trying to sense if he was kidding. "What do you mean?" She replied.
With an ice-cold tone, he replied, "Is this truly your answer? Or are you mocking me?"
Slowly it dawned on her that her husband had been dead serious that night in his library. Suddenly, she saw that he wasn't really looking at her, but into her. His gaze was a shield more than a rejection.
She responded with a disbelieving whisper, "No... I - No. I am not teasing you... Draco."
Their tense moment was slowly turning into something much more significant, and her intuition told her she would remember this interaction for the rest of her life.
He began nodding his head, finally letting go of her hand. "Well then, that's- What I mean to say is... Good. That's- that's swell." He looked at the floor and pulled at his suit, a full black wool number that was shockingly subtle compared to her attire.
With complete shock, the words stumbled right out her mouth. "Swell? You have a dark mark on your arm, Sir, and the best you can do is swell?"
With a start, he looked back up at her, clearly uncomfortable, before finding his grounding again. "I assume you have put together the meaning of your dress?" He asked.
Her reply was as fast as the smirk that emerged on her face. "Obviously."
Turning to face the staircase with his wife, he took her hand again as they began to descend the stairs. "Prove it," he admonished.
With a soft chuckle, she retorted, "how do I know that I am not vastly over-estimating you, and feeding you with answers to make you look charming and thoughtful?"
"Ah, of course," He said, taking them another step. "Did you put together the colour?"
"Elementry dear, Draco," She smiled. "Green enough to be Slytherin, dark enough to represent that we are in mourning we didn't get the girl."
He turned his head with an open-mouthed smile to look at her. "Well done, Madam, one point to Gryffindor!" Another step. "And the neckline?"
Rolling her eyes, she glanced back at him, "The sweetheart of Hogwarts."
"No kidding," He sighed. "The Diamonds?" Another step.
"Guess the new Malfoy Consulting Firm is doing well..." Another step.
"And the back?" Another step.
"A sweetheart when in front of others, and a lust-filled whore for my husband, leave thim filling in their own fantasies." She purred—another step.
"Well done, Madam Malfoy," He said, stopping at the landing just before the announcer was to call attention to them. "You did fairly well considering your education. All but one."
Shocked once again and thoroughly enjoying the banter, she beamed at him with only a little bit of sarcasm. "One, we have the same education, and two, what could I have possibly missed?"
He waited for a breath before answering in a voice only just above a whisper. " You are my diamond, and our marriage will not be remembered as being forged in blood, or conflict. Not after today."
Breathless, she searched his face. Her shock transformed into admiration. " No kidding."
With a loud laugh, the heir turned back to her with a bright smile on his face. Leaning closer into her ear, he whispered, " I won't lie to you, Granger. I did love her, but she would never have done what you have. I will spend the rest of my life repaying you, and we start tonight."
He pulled back from his whisper to smile warmly at his beautiful bride. "Get your shit together; we need to make an entrance." With a warm kiss on her forehead, he squared his shoulders to face the guests waiting for them below and placed his hand on the small of her back.
She faced the guests below as well, but her face was turned up to her husband, no doubt the image of a couple infatuated. As the announcer called out their titles, a hush settled across the mansion.
Present Day
A warm hand was squeezing her shoulder, and slowly the voice of solicitor Cornwall was resonating through her mind.
"Madam Malfoy, we must discuss your late husband's transfer of your marriage."
She sat up to get her barrings, clearly triggered back through the past.
"Hermione?" Came the calming tone of Servus Snape.
Squeezing the Position Master's thigh to reassure him, she repositioned herself uselessly on the chair, hoping her poor posture would explain her daydreaming.
"Yes of course Mr. Cornwall, what needs discussing." She sighed, hoping that she could get this over with and go find Mr. Wilfred in the kitchen for some pastries.
Relieved to have permission, the man began shuffling through papers. " Draco- Master Malfoy, that is, left a condition in the transfer, which of course Lord Snape you have already signed, that requires your signature, Madam."
Hermione chanced a glance at Severus, who was gazing at the red velvet-covered portrait above his desk.
Turning back to her representation, she nodded to him in encouragement.
His confidence, however, seemed to waver. He looked down at the parchment in his hands, back to her soon-to-be husband, who was acting none-the-wiser and settling on her face. For the first time in their almost ten-year acquaintance, she saw what could only what could be referred to as pity.
" Go on, Mister Cornwall."
Clearing his throat, he chose to speak to her while staring at his document.
"Yes, of course. Well, you see, Master Draco was adamant in this documentation, that your mutual goal of growing a family be respected upon your transfer."
Blanching at the thought, Hermione looked down at her lap. Glancing over to her left, she saw he betrothed's fist clenching and unclenching, exposing the white of his knuckles. She couldn't help but wonder if he could please her with these same hands or if the pleasurable days of sex were over. Based on what she observed at the engagement party, she doubted that very much.
With a blush, she moved her eyes to the mahogany desk,
"Generous of my late husband to recommend such a commitment of another man." She offered.
Sighing with a touch of relief, Cornwall continued. "I suppose so, yes. This amendment was non-negotiable as a term of the agreement. Without it the transfer is void, Madam Malfoy."
Hermione leaned into the man over the table, "obviously, my husband wasn't the not get my way type... your point?"
Clearing his throat again, Cornwall met her eyes again. "As you may know Madam, Lady Amelia Snape was heavily pregnant at the time of Lord Snape's engagement to... now Lady Snape." He paused to look back at Severus, but the dark man had yet to take his eyes off of the painting.
"As you know Madam, the first wife has the ability to require their husband to prioritize growing their family, over their new wife for a period of time. To ensure that they are not skipped over for a younger-"
The sharp movement of Severus' hair caught the air in the room. A stinging warning of how Cornwall's generalization could be interpreted.
Cornwall turned a particular shade of purple and bravely decided to move along. " Well, given Lady- well Lady Amelia that is- given her state at the time, this condition had to be enacted."
Hermione's mind snapped into place; she turned her head to Severus, who was gazing back at the curtained portrait, probably wishing he could crawl into it. She waited, hoping this man who had so well protected here in these last months would do her the courtesy of ripping out her heart with eye contact.
"And." She growled.
"Well, upon the First Lady's death that condition wasn't eratecated." Said the man.
Her body shaking, she felt the tears begin to well in her eyes. Still nothing from the Slytherin.
"And." She said with a betrayingly shaking voice.
With a deeper sigh, Cornwall answered. "The current Lady Snape is able to enact the same privilege."
Hermione asked again, this time with no emotion at all, as her body attempted to numb to the inevitable.
"And."
Cornwall placed the parchments on the table, obviously preparing to leave. "As is her right, she has chosen to do so."
Hermione looked up to the ceiling, with its beautiful geometric panelling and massive chandeliers, hoping that the light would transfer into her soul and save her.
"For how long?" She asked.
"Madam Malfoy, I want to reassure you, as Lord Snape has agreed to the terms, and it is not by his choice if any wife of his executes this condition, your transfer will go through. You can stay with this family, of whom I know you to be close...mostly. You can stay close to these children, and your maid can remain with you as well-"
"How long, Charles?" She asked with far more a ragged breath than she would have liked. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Lord of the Castle himself place his head in the hand that was propped up on the chair, rubbing his eyelids with a shuddering breath.
She looked to Cornwall, but still no answer.
She lifted herself up in her chair enough to pivot towards the face of her so-called rescuer.
"When did she enact this, how long have you known?" She demanded.
Without so much as moving a muscle, he replied, "last night, after we arrived."
Standing from her chair, she calmly placed her palms on the cool, textured table. Leaning into the face of what would usually be a trusted ally, she spoke slowly and with diction that would make her grammar school teacher proud.
"For. How. Long?"
Cornwall looked at the woman he used to casually refer to as a Mudblood, who turned into a worthy adversary and then a treasured client. He remembered writing up the transfer documents for Draco, so pleased that Hermione would be transferred to a man who adored children and so admired her for everything she was and could be.
Despite his usual professional decorum, Charles Cornwall broke down, and a single tear escaped his eyes in what would now feel like a double loss for Madam Malfoy.
"Indefinetly."