Rise and Die! Chapter 9
A/N:
o-o-o-o symbolizes a break in the story
Draco wished he'd never screwed his life up. He hadn't meant to. It was amazing, in a very bad sort of way, what one night could do. One little mistake, resulting in a whole lifetime of regret. It was absolutely terrible.
And now, his father had cut out half his inheritance. Half. Half was a ridiculous number. Half was insanity. Half was… pure evil.
Poor Draco would only be left with three hundred and seventeen million galleons instead of the six hundred thirty four he deserved. He would half to be careful with his money—he couldn't just spend it around. He wouldn't be able to have houses in Sevilla, Paris, Zurich, Edinburgh, and Minsk. He might have to cut out Minsk and Edinburgh (the Edinburgh loft was awfully drafty anyway).
"I hope this makes you understand, Draco," his father said coldly, interrupting his thoughts, "that you've made a very grave mistake. And here I want to let you in on a little something."
"What is it?" Draco tried not to look pained, but surely the news wasn't good.
Obviously, it wasn't. "I don't think there's a way out," came his father's laconic answer. "I really don't. Otherwise, I would've come across it sometime in the course of my well-learned life. I am an expert in all things Pureblood… and I've never heard of a divorce being allowed. Ever."
"Well, what about annulment?" Draco suggested, knowing it was a very futile suggestion.
"Don't be stupid, Draco," his father rolled his eyes, "you can't annul a marriage that everyone knows about. If you'd kept it small and secret, then maybe that could have worked. But it's too late now."
"And whose fault is that?" Draco scowled. "You and Mother have made this whole fiasco one big mess! You're making us throw a party Saturday night and escape on our 'honeymoon' this week!"
"Because a Malfoy never does things by halves," his father scowled right back. "And mudblood or no mudblood we're going all out."
Draco slumped against the wall of his father's study. "I'm such an idiot," he growled to himself. "I should go down and help her. Maybe we'll find something."
"Maybe you won't," Lucius replied pessimistically. "But go look. Perhaps the fates will be good to us."
Draco exited the study quickly and made his way to the library, wondering if his father's predictions would come true. He really didn't want to be stuck with her for the rest of his life. That was a long time. The rest of his life. The rest of his life! The rest of his freakin' life!
Oh, bloody hell. Life was shot.
Mumbling, Draco entered the library and found Hermione engrossed in some old, dusty tome. "What're you doing?" he demanded.
"Reading," she replied, absent-mindedly. "This is really interesting."
He glanced at the cover, Rules of Pureblood Conduct. "Have you found anything?" he asked suspiciously.
"Hmm…"
"Hermione! You did not come here to read, for Merlin's sake! You came here to find one specific thing. That is, looking for a possible breaking of a Pureblood marriage. Look, look, look away!"
"Right," she stood abruptly. "Right. Let's look. It's not in here. This just says, once a Pureblood man is married he is bound to his wife for … eternity. Not even life, eternity!" she giggled slightly, and Draco knew that the humor was the only way she could stomach such a declaration.
"I hope you understand the seriousness of that passage," Draco frowned down upon her, rather like Madam Pince.
"Yes, I do, Madam Pince," Hermione rolled her eyes, laughing. "Do you remember that woman?"
"Certainly. Everyone was always talking about your torrid love affair with her," Draco smirked.
Hermione gasped and shut her book with a snap. "Excuse me?!"
"Oh, yes," Draco was excited, now that he had a willing audience. "It was just wonderful. Who knew, against the odds, that a student and a teacher, separated by age, class, gender even… could come together against the odds! You two loved each other even though you knew that people would frown down upon your romance! Oh, don't pretend it wasn't true, Hermione. We all saw those furtive glances you sent her."
"Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew!" Hermione squealed and threw her hands across her face, as if to protect her eyes from the strange tales she was hearing. "Oh, Draco, please, that's just disgusting… Madam Pince! Oh, God, you've gone and made me ill…"
Draco laughed. Somehow, annoying Hermione never ceased to be really, really fun. "Okay, so…next book…"
She pointed dramatically to the bookshelf. "Let's try A Pureblood's Paradigm of Perfection. Sounds interesting, no?"
"I think that my great-grandfather wrote that," Draco mused. "Yeah. Right after his daughter fell in love with a muddy."
Hermione pursed her lips and Draco felt instantly sorry. It wasn't so much that he felt sorry, he suddenly rectified, it was just that Draco had promised not to use demeaning language about her in front of her. "Er, sorry," he mumbled. "A muggleborn."
She harrumphed.
God. Why was she so incredibly difficult to deal with?
"Wait," she suddenly stopped her little I'm-so-mad-at-you-pretense (seriously, who could really be mad at him? He was perfection walking!), "your grandmother fell in love with a muggleborn?"
"Absolutely not!" Draco couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth. A simple "no" should have sufficed, he scolded himself; instead he'd gone and made it a big deal. "My great-grandfather had three children. Two daughters and a son. The son, Charles Malfoy was my grandfather… on my father's side. And then one of his daughters, er, what was her name… we don't speak of her… ummm I think it was Desdemona… yeah, it was, it was Desdemona! Yeah, she definitely had a muggleborn's baby. Disowned in an instant."
"Interesting that her name was Desdemona," Hermione said, intrigued. "How very similar to the plight of the actual girl."
"What are you on about?"
"well… have you ever read Othello?"
"No," Draco conceded, although he hated to seem less read than she was (although, unfortunately, this much was true). "Or perhaps I have and I've just forgotten."
"I'll tell you the story," Hermione grinned and Draco knew the girl was in her element. "Desdemona was in love with Othello – and he was a Moor, and the only dark-skinned man in her society. They were married but a lot of people didn't approve of it."
"So then what happened?" Draco rolled his eyes, feigning complete disinterest, but such was a lie. He wanted to know.
Hermione proceeded to tell him the entire story, captivating him completely. "And driven by absolute rage and jealousy… he stabbed her," she whispered, shaking Draco out of his trance.
"Stabbed her! Stabbed her! What an idiot! Obviously Iago was a manipulative little bastard. God. That stupid Othello; I can't believe him. He had no faith in his wife whatsoever. Faith and trust are so important in a relationship… you should seriously think about this sort of stuff before you get married…"
"Unless you're in our situation," Hermione reminded him gently. "Then you just don't think at all. And when you have to deal with the consequences, you realize…"
"You're screwed," they finished up simulatenously.
o-o-o-o-o
Narcissa Malfoy was poring over her guest list. "Oh dear, I've passed the two hundred mark," she commented to her husband, who was reading the newspaper.
"Goodness, Narcissa," he shut his paper abruptly and walked over to her. "That is too large of a party!"
"But Lucius," Narcissa told him coldly, "I cannot just have it as half of an affair. People will talk. They will think that we are not happy with our bride."
"But we aren't happy—"
"Hush! They can't know that. You know what we must make them think? We must make them think that bloodlines are a thing of the past. We must make them think that it is utterly and completely fashionable to marry a pretty little mudblood. To marry an innocent little girl and slowly mold her into the ways of pureblood thinking," a smile formed on Narcissa's icy face as she said the words. "Yes. That's what we'll do."
"What the hell?" Lucius was stunned, perhaps by his wife's strange way of thinking. But there was no turning back now, because Narcissa was set.
"No, Lucius," she breathed, "it's absolutely perfect. You know they all want to emulate us anyway. It is the sincerest form of flattery… why not give them a little taste of what they're really going to copy? All this time I've hated when that silly bint Amelia Zabini wears the exact same thing as me… one week later too, the disgrace!...I'm sure she'll want her son marrying a mudblood too! It's perfect! Revenge and my son is the most fashionable of them all! Lucius, I love it, we're going through with it. Make it seem like you are just thrilled with your new daughter-in-law."
Narcissa glared at her husband, and he glared back, mute, until finally giving in via a small sigh. "Fine, Narcissa," he mumbled, "have it your way. Just like always."
"I knew you'd see my point," his wife told him, not even glancing up.
"Yes, of course dear," Lucius bit out, grumbling. He really was beginning to despise that child of his…
"Lucius, have you called Pierre to cater the party?"
"Can't Draco and the mudblood do it?" Lucius whined. "It's their party, isn't it?"
Bad, bad idea to say anything at all. In a flash, Narcissa was in front of him, scowling. "Please repeat what you said," she said frigidly.
Lucius knew he'd said something wrong, but what it was escaped him. "Er… can't they do it?"
"No, before that," she continued in the same unemotional manner, and then dropped it in favor of screaming-woman-in-child-labor, "You called her a mudblood! Haven't I just told you that you love her and you think she is the perfect match for your son! You said 'Draco and the mudblood'. Never again will you say that! We need to practice at home if we don't want to give people outside of the house the wrong idea! You will repeat after me, 'Draco and Hermione'. That is her name."
Lucius felt sullen. "Fine then," he snapped. "Draco and Hermione! Are you happy now?"
"Much better," Narcissa told him approvingly. "Now if you'll excuse me I must go interrupt those two. I've got to plan a shopping excursion for Hermione – see, you'll note that I'm using her name, unlike some people – and I need Draco to arrange the entertainment. You'll help him there, I expect."
"Whatever you say, dear," Lucius grumbled. By now he had a terrible headache and he would say anything just to get his wonderful wife to leave him alone.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Hermione wasn't quite sure what to think. It was kind of nice seeing Draco actually work. He was not being immature about it or anything; he was seriously helping her find a way out of this tangle.
Then again, he was half of the tangle.
But right now the atmosphere between them was pretty amiable; pretty tolerant. She kind of didn't hate it, which certainly was a start. "Hmm, look here," she pointed at a passage detailing the typical pureblood marriage ceremony, "we didn't do any of this. Does that make a difference?"
"Look one below," he told her, not unkindly, "and let me read, it says, If the above is not performed, it is disgraceful of course, but the marriage will still hold if the vows are exchanged and there is a witness."
"Oh, damnation," Hermione moaned. "This is really awful."
"Agreed," Draco nodded in the affirmative and for a moment there was a nice, comfortable silence.
And then havoc was wreaked in the form of one Narcissa Malfoy, who burst into the library. "Have I interrupted anything?" she asked wickedly.
"not at all, mother," Draco gave her a half-smile, one that wasn't very pleasant.
"Pity," his mother replied in that same fashion. "I was beginning to think you two might have just begun to get along. You might as well."
"Absolutely not," Hermione said fiercely. "I'm sorry Narcissa but I think your son is a bigoted prick and there is just no way that I can get along with someone who dislikes me because of my blood."
Before Draco could say anything, Narcissa had already begun to speak – and her words were incredibly surprising.
"That reminds me," Narcissa turned to Draco, "you will never discriminate against your wife because of her blood. I'd say just refrain in public but private habits breed and you might make a mistake. Therefore you really need to be respectful and drop this whole blood thing. I've decided it's very trendy to have a mudblood wife. So go with the trend. If I hear otherwise you know you'll have some comeuppance, don't you Draco?"
"Yes, Mother," Draco swallowed and looked to the floor. His mother could just be so intimidating sometimes. He hated when she did that; making him seem like less of a man. He made a spur of the moment decision. "You know, Hermione and I have been here for a while. I think it's best we went home now."
"Yes, you're right," his mother agreed, surprisingly. "Hermione, you and I need to have a chat about your outfit and your mannerisms for Saturday night. I'll be in touch with you."
"Okay," Hermione shrugged. "We'll just be off then, I suppose."
Draco turned and waited for his wife and the two of them made their way to a fireplace so they could use the floo to get home.
The house was eerily silent and foreboding as they entered. Draco noticed Hermione shiver next to him. "It's awfully cold in here," he remarked, "I wonder why Poppy didn't start any fires."
Hermione turned red. Not quickly, but slowly, as if the blush was creeping on her face. "What is it?" Draco demanded.
"Er, well… I kind of… I let Poppy… I let her go."
Draco could feel the blood rushing to his ears. His voice started out softly, because, like his father the angrier he was the softer he was, "You let my house-elf go?"
"Well," Hermione began defensively. "I don't think we should keep house-elves."
"You let my house-elf go."
"Because it's wrong to have house-elves! The poor thing wasn't even paid! They're slaves!"
"THAT'S THE POINT!" Draco roared. "THEY LIKE IT! THEY LIKE IT! THEY LIKE IT! I cannot believe you! And to think I actually thought you weren't so bad!"
He stomped off, angry beyond words. God that girl irritated him to no end, taking away his house-elf. What right did she have? What right did she have?!
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Hermione stared after her new husband, completely and totally pissed off. How dare he yell at her for doing the right thing? How dare he yell at her for removing something in her house? Yes, it was her house now, too. He needed to realize that.
"I really dislike you," she growled under her breath. "I hate you so much. I really do."
He spun around, apparently having heard her. "I hate you too," he spat. "I hate every moment I have to spend near you. If we don't get a divorce I'll have you know that I'll never remain faithful to you and don't expect me to be a good husband because you're not worthy of being my wife… mudblood."
Hermione's mouth hung open… what he had said was amazingly hurtful. Tears filled her eyes before she could stop them, and slowly she shook her head, knowing he didn't deserve a response. Instead of hitting him, as was her first instinct, she spun on her heel and walked out.
Fuck pureblood marriage. There's nothing that said she couldn't just up and leave.
A/N: I know it's kinda short and I know the end is a crap place to stop because ya'll are like what's happening… and I'm sorry for that expletive in the end but it's the easiest way to explain how Hermione's feeling… sorry for the delay, too.
Thanks everyone for all those pressies (the reviews)! They were completely amazing. I loved all of them and read them over and over again. I'm overwhelmed. I'm so glad you guys like this story. Please tell me what you thought of this chapter. Thanks.