Rise and Die! Chapter 7
Hermione was just debating where to put Ron's hideous lampshade when her mobile rang. With one last look at the abovementioned item (which Draco had insisted, rather rudely, that he wanted out of the house before he returned from work) she answered the call with a resigned, "Hello?", thinking it was probably a colleague asking why she wasn't at work that fine Monday morning.
Armed with an explanation of, "I'm sorting out my things in my new house"—which was perfectly true, she waited for the colleague to fire away at the questions. Imagine her surprise when said colleague turned out to be a certain Ronald Weasley.
"Hermione!" gasped the voice on the other end.
"Ron!" Hermione smiled to herself.
"Please tell me that what I'm reading is not true. Please. It's revolting and it makes me nauseous to look at these!"
"Look at what?" Hermione asked innocently as she fingered the lampshade, wondering if she should just stash it in one of Draco Malfoy's many closets.
"Tabloids! Tabloids proclaiming your marriage, Hermione, or do you not remember that?!" Ron shrieked.
Suddenly everything came back to Hermione in one huge jumbled mess. She was absolutely disgusted that she had actually forgotten her predicament, but Hermione was a fiercely focused young woman and interior decorating was a hobby of hers…no wonder it had captivated all of her attention (and brain cells, it seemed). "Er," she began awkwardly, wondering where to begin, "Ron, I can explain…"
"I'm waiting," Ron growled. "I mean…that git…" he sputtered. Hermione suspected that he was too angry to be able to form coherent sentences.
"I sympathize with you," she sighed as she remembered what Lucius Malfoy had just told her yesterday. That whole pretend-you're-in-love bit…and he said that it couldn't leak out, at all.
She had a quick mental debate. Harry knew. Would it be fair if she didn't tell Ron the truth? Aha, suddenly an idea stumbled upon her. "Look," she said quickly, "I can't tell you a thing except it's not what you think it is… and I want you to ask Harry. He'll tell you everything."
"What?" Ron's voice conveyed the confusion the poor chap must be feeling.
Hermione ignored it, deciding that she would definitely stuff the lamp in a closet. "What tabloids?" she swiftly asked. Oh, dear, had this reached the tabloids already?
"Only every wizarding tabloid in existence. For once even The Quibbler has the same story printed on its cover! And it's on the front page of The Daily Prophet! And also on Skeeter's Secrets! Huge headlines proclaiming, "Heir to Malfoy Fortune Marries Muggleborn Witch!" And then right underneath that, "Top Researcher Hermione Granger, Best Friend of Harry Potter, wedded to Draco Malfoy, Heir to One of the Largest Wizard Fortunes Ever Seen? Wedding of the Century! Hermione, it's all that rot! I mean, this is Malfoy… we hate Malfoy, remember?!"
Hermione grinned, knowing he couldn't see her expression of serenity. "Just talk to Harry," she promised, "and you'll get all the answers you want. We'll catch up later, Ron, I've got to find places for all of my things. This house is just so darn big!"
"Wait, what?" Ron's yelp was cut off as Hermione hung up the phone, feeling sorry for him.
He really didn't deserve to be treated like that.
But then again, it had been fun. Who would have though innocent Hermione Granger could turn the tables on her friends like that? Anyhow, it would all be cleared up in a matter of minutes as Ron would no doubt storm into Harry's office and demand to know the explanation.
With a smile still playing on her lips, Hermione resumed her task, humming a tune softly under her breath. She had specifically told the house-elves she didn't need their help, but now it seemed that that hadn't been the best of ideas. Some of her furniture that she couldn't bear to part with was downright heavy, too heavy for one person, and a fleet of house-elves (which Malfoy certainly had) would find it much easier.
Swallowing her ego she called for Lola—who remembered her new name, unfortunately. "What can Lola do for Mistress Malfoy?"
Rather than argue about this name issue, Hermione simply dictated the work and sat down for a needed rest, glancing at the large grandfather's clock in the dining hall. Oh, dear, it was already eleven-thirty…and Narcissa was forcing her to meet for lunch at twelve.
Deciding she'd better get dressed Hermione hurried to her room, which was unfortunately right next to Draco's. She blushed at the thought of Draco's room, remembering of course last night's little…thing. That hug. She hadn't meant to throw herself at him…it was just that everything had looked so bloody dismal and it was just such a relief to know that perhaps she would be able to at least save a part of her old life and work.
The worst part was that being in his arms was actually really rather comforting.
Well, no matter, she brushed it off. She'd have hugged anyone that had been standing next to her at that moment, and everyone's arms were comforting. This was no exception, even if it was the most horrible bloke to walk the planet.
Just as she threw open her closet and looked at disdain at her robes, an owl flew in through the window and dropped a letter in her arms.
It was off before Hermione could even address it so she turned her attentions to the letter instead.
Hermione—
Mother has just informed me that you are meeting her for a lunch today. I advise you to wear a designer outfit because Mother has a penchant for fashion and appreciates any lady that does. Go with a Madame Madison creation, those are her favorite, or perhaps an Elitian silk robe. You'll find both in that guest room closet with new clothes. Pick whatever suits your fancy.
--Draco Malfoy
Hermione sputtered as she reread the note. Imagine, Draco Malfoy sending her a letter about fashion. Imagine, Draco Malfoy even knowing about top-notch wizard designers. Of course she'd heard of Madame Madison and Elitian; they were equivalent of Chanel and Oscar de la Renta in the muggle world.
First off Hermione wondered if she even wanted to be in Narcissa's good graces. Narcissa was a pompous, arrogant, snobby woman (much like her son), and Hermione couldn't care less what Narcissa thought of her.
Then again, in the event that they were unable to find a loophole…Hermione would be stuck with the woman for life, and things would be very miserable if she didn't get along with her.
Deciding it was for the best Hermione sauntered over to the guest closet and pulled out a pinkish hued, silky Madame Madison robe. It was brand new and just lovely to look at. Hermione couldn't help but want to slip it on immediately, and so she did, and then promptly transfigured her fanciest strappy heels into a gorgeous matching shade of pink.
Feeling pretty, she grabbed her purse and stepped out, Apparating to some restaurant that Naricssa had picked out—Makhani's.
Luckily Narcissa Malfoy was already there when Hermione arrived at 12:02 p.m. Hoping that she would not be reprimanded for her slight tardiness (and if she was, that would just be ridiculous!) Hermione slipped into the seat across from Narcissa.
Narcissa looked stern. "A Malfoy," she scowled, "is always fashionably late. That was not late. I invited you here at twelve; you should be here between 12:10 and 12:15. Do I make myself clear?"Hermione was astounded. "But…well, how come you are here?"
"Because," Narcissa began grimly, "I had a feeling you would do that, and Malfoys do not keep each other waiting."
Hermione wondered when exactly during the last twenty-four hours Narcissa had taken it upon herself to believe that Hermione really was a Malfoy. Because Hermione sincerely hoped that this Malfoy status was only temporary. "Er, all right, then," she finally said, noticing the tension between them and not wanting to cause a struggle.
"Now," Narcissa continued as she ordered two plates of steaming hot Indian food, chicken tikka and naan, "I've brought you here to discuss…the activities of a Malfoy wife."
Hermione nearly choked on her complimentary mango shake, the special of the day. "Activities?" she echoed with a sense of foreboding.
Narcissa nodded as confirmation. "Look at this place around you. The most expensive, tastiest Indian food available in England…this is a top-notch place. This is the kind of place you will dine at regularly. Only the most expensive restaurants for you. The service is a bit lax right now, I'm afraid, but that is only because it is lunch hour. Otherwise you are treated with utmost dignity and respect."
"But this is a Muggle restaurant," Hermione protested, "how could they even know of the Malfoy name?"
"The Malfoys are resourceful. A hundred years ago some ancestor of Lucius opened up a very successful Muggle business…the Muggles know of our name, somewhat—they only know a little bit, of course—but it's enough to give us recognition. We are entitled to their privileges as well, as inane as they are."
Hermione had to nod her appreciation. Merlin, this family was cunning… "I see. That's very clever."
"Indeed." Narcissa seemed to just have noticed Hermione's attire and she eyed it approvingly. "I see you are wearing Madame Madison."
Hermione nodded and blushed. "Er, yes…my favorite designer," she added as a quick afterthought. Never in her dreams would she imagine ever kissing up to Narcissa Malfoy…
Narcissa smiled very faintly…so faint that you could barely see it, but it was there. Hermione ignored the urge to scream, "Score!"
"At least your taste is decent enough for a Malfoy wife," Narcissa finally said.
Hermione scowled inwardly but kept her smile plastered on. Only the Malfoys could twist a compliment around enough to make it sound like a demeaning insult. She wondered why again she was putting up with this.
Oh yes. That possibility that she just might be stuck with this family for life!
Now was not the time to have a temper tantrum. "So, er, what activities do I have?" she changed the subject.
Narcissa smiled serenely. "Of course your number one activity is to research. My husband will help you, as will Draco—when they have time. Malfoy men must keep up appearances and thus of course their work will come first. But you will have time."
"Ah," Hermione interrupted, just as serenely, "your son promised me that I would be allowed to work."
The older woman's calm disappeared immediately. "What?"
"Er, yes. He promised I would be allowed to work."
"Oh, did he?" scowled Narcissa. She took a few deep breaths and Hermione knew she was fighting to stay calm; to stay in control. "All right then," Narcissa finally ground out, looking as if she'd just eaten the spiciest curry available. "You'll work and then come straight to our manor to research."
"No," Hermione disagreed, "I shan't spend all my time researching. I'm determined to make this marriage the smallest of dents in my life. I will come after work, for one hour. That's more than enough."
"Two hours."
"An hour and a half."
Narcissa seethed. "Fine. An hour and a half. You will get off work at five. NO arguing. Then you'll be able to go home by six-thirty, which is approximately the time that Draco comes home."
Hermione swallowed the rising anger and nodded wearily. "But why should you care if Draco and I get home at the same time?"
"Because you must look like you're in love! Have you not seen the tabloids? You will be all over them and in them for a good while now. Reporters will stealthily follow you everywhere. You must at all times look like this marriage between you and Draco is full of love and happiness. Cook him dinner at night. He likes sauté; do that a lot."
"Excuse me?" Hermione sputtered. "Cook him dinner?!"
Narcissa grinned evilly, a trademark of hers. "Now, normally, I'd suggest the house-elves…but you don't approve of them, do you?"
Hermione clenched her fists. "I will cook him dinner," she argued heatedly. "All me. Those poor creatures will not be made to serve him food!"
"Lovely," Narcissa said with a cool smirk. "You realize what you've just said, right?"
Hermione gritted her teeth as she realized that she had just sagely promised to cook Draco dinner. Ugh. "I do," she spat out.
"Whenever you leave the house," Narcissa informed her, "you will dress accordingly. Obviously, that is not a problem, you seem to know what you're doing in that department. But make sure you always look sexy and unavailable. Hermione, darling," she condescendingly told her, "you are now a trophy wife. Be sure to look like one. All Malfoy wives do, no matter how brainy they are. Another good thing that you are smart. Every Malfoy wife is very intelligent."
Hermione grimaced. Trophy wife?! What other atrocities would she have to put up with? "Wonderful," she managed, "I just make the perfect Malfoy wife, don't I?" she added sarcastically.
"Hardly," Narcissa's reply came scathingly. "And lastly, no infidelity will be tolerated. Do you know what happens to pureblooded families if a member is caught practicing adultery?"
Hermione shook her head, although she was beginning to form an idea.
"The entire family's name is tarnished," Narcissa's expression was dangerous. "Entirely. In past times the adulterous individual is put to death by the family…for bringing shame upon them, of course. Nowadays we don't do that, but Hermione, you will become a pariah. Not to mention that Lucius and Draco will make life absolutely miserable for you."
"I understand," Hermione nodded, "don't worry. No cheating. But please. Tell your son that. I have a feeling he may forget."
Narcissa pursed her lips before she finally answered. "I have a feeling you may be right."
Hermione and Narcissa finished their meal and left the classy restaurant. Narcissa bade Hermione goodbye in her own unique way. "Stay out of trouble," she warned, "As much as I dislike you, I don't want poison slipped into your drink—oh, don't look so worried, Lucius hasn't done that in years—and yes, we do use muggle ways of death sometimes, less conspicuous, although nothing beats a good killing curse—and, I will inform you of other duties as you go along. Go on now."
"Thank you, Narcissa," Hermione replied politely, and Apparated away. She had mixed feelings towards Narcissa Malfoy. Narcissa was evil in her own little way, but she was nothing compared to Lucius. Hmm. Perhaps that formed the family's karmic balance?
Shaking her head in contemplation she soon found herself in her new house. Malfoy Junior's mansion. It was very pretty, that it was… and some part of her was a bit excited to say that this was her new house. Granted, it was definitely under Draco's name and her name wouldn't pop up on any legal documents… but wouldn't it be just a blast to tell people that this was her house? And that she had married into one of the richest wizard families ever? Okay, her husband was a prat, but they didn't know that.
She'd probably have some sort of opportunity come up later. Before she could even enter the house a regal looking owl swooped down on her, holding its leg out. She took the letter off and patted the owl, wondering who it could be this time. Ah, Narcissa.
Hermione-
I've decided that in order to make this look more Malfoy-esque, you and Draco will be throwing a party, celebrating of course your marriage. Malfoys throw parties. We have grand affairs. Already this looks strange and people are talking because you eloped, and that is not the Malfoy style. I'll send you the guest list tomorrow…we'll have it on Saturday night. Oh, and one more thing: Lucius and I have decided you and Draco will have a honeymoon. Not a real one, of course, you don't deserve it, you ungrateful children, but both of you shall take the rest of this week off and stay in his house. Don't leave, unless you apparate over here in order to research (which you will be doing). The tabloids cannot see you out of the house because you will be on your "honeymoon" in some undisclosed location. I'll tell Draco.
-Narcissa Malfoy
Hermione reread the note in disbelief. WHAT?! She couldn't work for the rest of this week, either, because of her so-called pretend honeymoon? It wasn't as if they were stalked so thoroughly that people would question the lack of a honeymoon.
Of course she was wrong because at that very instant reporters who had been hiding in the bushes jumped on her. Quickly Hermione hid the note and faltered. "Excuse me?"
"Mrs. Malfoy! Mrs. Malfoy!" called one. Hermione brushed past them and tried to make it into the house, throwing off questions about her marriage.
"I'm not answering any questions," she protested weakly as she made her way up the steps. "Now if you'll excuse me…I, er, must pack for my honeymoon."
"Honeymoon?" one reporter questioned and once again they were on her like a pack of wild dogs.
"Yes, my honeymoon. My, er, lovely husband and I are leaving promptly tomorrow morning and shan't be back until Saturday morning…and that night we are having a party to celebrate our marriage."
She couldn't believe she was actually agreeing to all this, but right now she didn't have time to think rationally. She just had to give out some information to get these reporters off of her!
"Where is your honeymoon to?" someone questioned.
"I'm not going to share that," she answered with a small smile, hoping it came off as shy and the newest Mrs. Malfoy was just so high in her state of wedded bliss (ha!) that the reporters wouldn't ask why she didn't share.
Luckily she was able to break through the people-barrier and shove her way into her house. Panting deeply she sighed in relief as she sank against the door, completely exhausted from her battle with the reporters. They were vile creatures, they were!
At that instant, just as Hermione had regained her breath, her mobile went off at an ear-splitting shriek and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Hurriedly she picked it up with a breathless, "Hello?"
"I just found out the whole story, Hermione," Ron shouted from the other line. Poor boy had never properly learnt how to use a phone.
Hermione was really not in the mood to discuss it, not with so much going on. "Hmm?"
"Yes, and I think there's just got to be a way to get out, I mean may—"
"If you'll excuse me, Ron," Hermione began with a small giggle, "I've got to pack for my honeymoon. I'm leaving first thing tomorrow."
"Honeymoon?" she heard him sputter from the other end, right before she'd clicked off the phone.
With the same smile still playing on her lips, she went back to her interior decorating. For the first time since Saturday, she was in a really good mood.
A/N: Hermione wasn't being mean…she was just having fun! She needs some fun. Her weekend was really shot ;) Anyway, yes, another chapter is out. Narcissa—still snobby upscale wife. Her major concerns include the family name and fashion. So, yeah, that's the way she's going to be.
I'm surprised a number of you also disliked "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince." That book better be really good because the title…is a bit discomfiting. Anyway, thanks for the brilliant reviews! Tell me what you thought of this chapter!