Dragon's Bride - Chapter Three
Disclaimer: The characters in this fic are not mine. They belong to Time Warner and J.K. Rowling.
Whoever said lawyers are evil, obviously misunderstood the concept of a lawyer. Mr Cavendish, the Brown family lawyer, was by no means evil. If the light side had won, he would have the exact same thing he did right now - his job.
"...and there is also also a partial ownership of the Bertie Bott company. To make it short your bride is a very wealthy woman now."
No, Mr Cavendish wasn't evil. He just read Draco Malfoy the list of things the fake Lavender Brown now owned. It had nothing to do with evil. Nothing to do with the amount of killing the younger Malfoy had taken part in, nothing to do with the fact that Miss Brown was probably a very unwilling bride. Nothing to do that recounting her wealth would damn her to a very unhappy life, nothing at all. Mr Cavendish was just being what he was - a lawyer. But even Mr Cavendish felt a tremor of guilt when he looked into Draco's gleeful face. He closed his files and asked "If there aren't any more question, I beg you to excuse me now." The Malfoy heir nodded and watched the man disappear through the door, hurriedly like there were thousand of devils on his heels.
Draco congratulated himself on his own genius. Not only he had saved Hermione from a certain and painful death, he was also now in the possession of the largest fortune of the Wizarding World. His plan had worked out beautifully. He would have Hermione in his bed forever and power and money like no Wizard had before him. He smiled when he thought about the previous day, about her creamy soft flesh of her arm and her shocked face when he ripped of her nightgown's sleeve. If she would have protested if he had ripped more than just the sleeve? He thought about her breasts exposed, her legs in their full length, her... 'Patience,' he chastised himself, "just a little bit more patience and she is all mine."
***
Hermione hadn't read the etiquette books, she hadn't eaten either, all she had done since Draco had walked out of her room was crying until she fell asleep.
She was woken up by a rather tall, aristocratic-looking woman shaking her. "Get up, we have much to do."
"Who... where...?"
"My name is Narcissa Malfoy, I am Draco's mother and while the torn nightdress look is becoming, it is by no means an appropriate wedding dress." She threw a bunch of clothes on Hermione's bed. "I expect you to be showered and dressed in fifteen minutes sharp." Her tone left no doubt that whatever would happen to Hermione if she wasn't out of the bathroom within the time limit, it wouldn't be pleasant.
Fourteen and a half minutes later a very subdued ex-head girl followed Narcissa Malfoy through a dark hall. Hermione guessed that this had to be Malfoy Manor just from looking at all the arrogant, blond wizards and witches whose portraits graced the walls. She entered a sunlight-filled study full of Louis Quinze furniture, which gave the study a feminine look. There were already a seamstress and vast amounts of white silks and velvets waiting to be fitted for the Malfoy bride.
Obviously Narcissa Malfoy had already chosen how the dress should look and all the seamstress needed was her measurements. "Lavender Brown?" the seamstress asked, when Narcissa had gone to the other side of the room to take a closer look at an especially expensive Chinese silk. "Strange... I remember you were taller," the seamstress said.
Hermione stared at her in shock: "How?... What do you want?"
"Don't worry, girl," replied the woman, "My son... he died a few days ago." She looked down. "If..." she started anew: "If he could have... then... yes." She went down on her knees and started to look for a pin, she hadn't lost. "Don't worry, girl. I won't say anything. And..." she gave up her search for the pin, "Anyone who'll ever ask me... you are Lavender Brown."
Narcissa had grown bored of the Chinese silk and came back to seamstress to talk about the rather elaborate embroideries on Hermione's wedding dress. "Dragons. I want dragons across the back and the hem of the skirt. And maybe a snake pattern on the sleeves. Wouldn't that be sweet, dear?" she asked Hermione not waiting for an answer. The question was purely rhetorical and they both knew it. Hermione would get exactly the wedding dress Narcissa wanted, her own desires notwithstanding.
***
After a lunch that was more of an unsuccessful exercise in small-talk and an afternoon full of choosing even more robes for the Malfoy bride - Hermione being needled and pinned and Narcissa doing the actual choosing, a very pleased Narcissa led Hermione back to her room, where she went back to hiding under the covers and crying herself to sleep.
She dreamed of being back at Hogwarts, of being in the Great Hall, which was empty. The enchanted ceiling showed a grey sky and from the open doors and windows an icy wind went through the hall. And suddenly Hogwarts was gone and Hermione stood all alone on a field full of flowers. And then she woke up to look directly into a pair of grey eyes.
Disclaimer: The characters in this fic are not mine. They belong to Time Warner and J.K. Rowling.
Whoever said lawyers are evil, obviously misunderstood the concept of a lawyer. Mr Cavendish, the Brown family lawyer, was by no means evil. If the light side had won, he would have the exact same thing he did right now - his job.
"...and there is also also a partial ownership of the Bertie Bott company. To make it short your bride is a very wealthy woman now."
No, Mr Cavendish wasn't evil. He just read Draco Malfoy the list of things the fake Lavender Brown now owned. It had nothing to do with evil. Nothing to do with the amount of killing the younger Malfoy had taken part in, nothing to do with the fact that Miss Brown was probably a very unwilling bride. Nothing to do that recounting her wealth would damn her to a very unhappy life, nothing at all. Mr Cavendish was just being what he was - a lawyer. But even Mr Cavendish felt a tremor of guilt when he looked into Draco's gleeful face. He closed his files and asked "If there aren't any more question, I beg you to excuse me now." The Malfoy heir nodded and watched the man disappear through the door, hurriedly like there were thousand of devils on his heels.
Draco congratulated himself on his own genius. Not only he had saved Hermione from a certain and painful death, he was also now in the possession of the largest fortune of the Wizarding World. His plan had worked out beautifully. He would have Hermione in his bed forever and power and money like no Wizard had before him. He smiled when he thought about the previous day, about her creamy soft flesh of her arm and her shocked face when he ripped of her nightgown's sleeve. If she would have protested if he had ripped more than just the sleeve? He thought about her breasts exposed, her legs in their full length, her... 'Patience,' he chastised himself, "just a little bit more patience and she is all mine."
***
Hermione hadn't read the etiquette books, she hadn't eaten either, all she had done since Draco had walked out of her room was crying until she fell asleep.
She was woken up by a rather tall, aristocratic-looking woman shaking her. "Get up, we have much to do."
"Who... where...?"
"My name is Narcissa Malfoy, I am Draco's mother and while the torn nightdress look is becoming, it is by no means an appropriate wedding dress." She threw a bunch of clothes on Hermione's bed. "I expect you to be showered and dressed in fifteen minutes sharp." Her tone left no doubt that whatever would happen to Hermione if she wasn't out of the bathroom within the time limit, it wouldn't be pleasant.
Fourteen and a half minutes later a very subdued ex-head girl followed Narcissa Malfoy through a dark hall. Hermione guessed that this had to be Malfoy Manor just from looking at all the arrogant, blond wizards and witches whose portraits graced the walls. She entered a sunlight-filled study full of Louis Quinze furniture, which gave the study a feminine look. There were already a seamstress and vast amounts of white silks and velvets waiting to be fitted for the Malfoy bride.
Obviously Narcissa Malfoy had already chosen how the dress should look and all the seamstress needed was her measurements. "Lavender Brown?" the seamstress asked, when Narcissa had gone to the other side of the room to take a closer look at an especially expensive Chinese silk. "Strange... I remember you were taller," the seamstress said.
Hermione stared at her in shock: "How?... What do you want?"
"Don't worry, girl," replied the woman, "My son... he died a few days ago." She looked down. "If..." she started anew: "If he could have... then... yes." She went down on her knees and started to look for a pin, she hadn't lost. "Don't worry, girl. I won't say anything. And..." she gave up her search for the pin, "Anyone who'll ever ask me... you are Lavender Brown."
Narcissa had grown bored of the Chinese silk and came back to seamstress to talk about the rather elaborate embroideries on Hermione's wedding dress. "Dragons. I want dragons across the back and the hem of the skirt. And maybe a snake pattern on the sleeves. Wouldn't that be sweet, dear?" she asked Hermione not waiting for an answer. The question was purely rhetorical and they both knew it. Hermione would get exactly the wedding dress Narcissa wanted, her own desires notwithstanding.
***
After a lunch that was more of an unsuccessful exercise in small-talk and an afternoon full of choosing even more robes for the Malfoy bride - Hermione being needled and pinned and Narcissa doing the actual choosing, a very pleased Narcissa led Hermione back to her room, where she went back to hiding under the covers and crying herself to sleep.
She dreamed of being back at Hogwarts, of being in the Great Hall, which was empty. The enchanted ceiling showed a grey sky and from the open doors and windows an icy wind went through the hall. And suddenly Hogwarts was gone and Hermione stood all alone on a field full of flowers. And then she woke up to look directly into a pair of grey eyes.