"Master Draco, will ye be having anythin ter drink?" a scratchy voice broke through Hermione's daze of sleep, and she sat up with a yawn. The driver, as an afterthought, added, "And milady?"
"I'll take a vodka and tonic." Draco said, looking at Hermione. She couldn't help but feel a bit awkward- she'd never had a drop of alcohol in her life. Draco seemed to pick up on this, and he turned back towards the fogged glass. "Something light for Hermia, Maxwell- she's still a bit sick from traveling. We should be their presently anyway, if I recognize the country."
Hermione could see Maxwell's toothy grin through the mirror of the car, and she shivered. The shaggy-haired man laughed.
"Right perceptive, you're gettin, Master Draco." He wheezed. "Soon you'll be drivin this car yourself, I daresay."
"I think not." Hermione interrupted haughtily, to Draco's surprise. He smirked at her, and she smirked back. "I would hope Draco will never have to lower himself to these- Muggle- forms of transportation. In fact, if all goes well, we'll both be getting our apparition licenses next year. Of course, I can already apparate- but Uncle Severus said it wouldn't be wise to do so right under that Dumbledore's nose."
Draco's eyes widened as she finished, and her smirk only grew wider. She gave off another yawn, curling her legs up on the car seat and laying her head in Draco's lap. He leaned down to give her a quick kiss on the lips, and whispered-
"You'll be perfect."
She was quite enjoying this already. It was like playing a role in a film, or a play, except the stage wasn't two-dimensional. She got to wear beautiful clothes (she'd done a very handy bit of work on her wardrobe with a few charms), and makeup for the first time in her life. And her leading man didn't hurt one bit.
The rest of the car ride passed without event, though Hermione was a bit frightened when Maxwell turned around to give Draco his drink, and her a bit of iced tea… an 'Arnold Palmer', her parents would have called it. He must have been using some sort of spell to steer the limo.
It seemed to be hours she spent in that bloody car- she couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy at the Muggles, without magic. Forced to resort to all kinds of crazy machines to make up for their sad lacking... what was she saying? Method acting was dangerous, to a point.
They entered a valley, lush and green, a silvery mist covering the road in front of them. The car came to a pair of steel iron gates, which quickly parted, and drove on, Draco growing visibly more excited by the second.
"You'll love it, Hermio- Hermia." he gushed, barely forgetting to use her 'new' name, eyes fixated on the fogged window. "I've never seen a house more beautiful-"
"Nor have I." Maxwell added, glancing back at the sleepy girl. "Well, here we are then, Master, and Miss." Hermione liked the sound of that, and so, apparently, did Draco, for her flashed her a dazzling smile and jumped out of the car, going around to the other side and opening the door for her. She giggled, and took his hand as she stepped out of the car, for the first time laying eyes on Malfoy Manor.
She was first taken aback at the mere size of it. Her head spun, unconsciously calculating how much marble it must have taken to build only what she could see. It looked supernatural in the hazy fog, glowing but not shining. It was long and tall, four stories or more, it seemed, not including the soaring round towers on either end. The top of the house was domed, a sculpture of a man (looking not unlike Draco… or his father, for that matter) with a snake wrapped around his arm, and a sword in the other adorning the pinnacle.
In front of the house, there was a fountain- nearly as wide as it was tall, creating a wall of foaming water in the middle of the circular driveway. It was a statue of a woman, seated in a high-backed, jewel adorned chair- or more, throne. Her eyes seemed to glitter emerald green, though it could have simply been a trick of the water. She shuddered at the mere feeling of power that emanated from her- and her breath caught in her throat, as two people stepped forward from the great arching stone doorway.
Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were walking towards her… and smiling.
Narcissa ran forward first, throwing her arms around her son. Lucius followed at a more leisurely pace, embracing Draco after Narcissa had pulled away from him. Draco looked extremely embarrassed, flushing a deep red. After a moment of simple beaming at her son, Narcissa turned to Hermione, a smile lighting up her delicate features.
"Lovely! Oh, my dear, my son has excellent taste." she leaned down and embraced Hermione, much to her dismay. She quickly regained her composure, though, looking to the much older couple.
"Sir, Madam, it's an honor to meet you. I've heard such wonderful things about both of you from Uncle Severus, and… you've been most generous to allow me to stay in your home." she curtsied, looking to the ground, and then looking up into their eyes. To her amusement, she seemed to have passed the test, for Narcissa shrieked in happiness, pulling her son into another apparently embarrassing hug.
"Takes after him, doesn't she?" Lucius muttered under his breath, the closest thing to a warm smile Hermione had ever seen sneaking onto his face. She grinned to herself, and to Draco, as Maxwell came around to the front of the house, levitating the bags next to him.
They all stepped into the foyer of the house, and Hermione paused, looking back to the fountain, and the car. The statue of the woman seemed to glare at her, but it did not matter in the least.
After all, she fit in perfectly.
"Now, dear, I believe the boys have some catching up to do," Narcissa looked over to Lucius and Draco, who were already deep in conversation, "so I'll show you your room. I think you'll like it- it's where I stayed, when I first came to visit."
Hermione nodded, with what she hoped was a sweet sort smile, levitating her bags and following Narcissa up a large, gray stone staircase. She didn't have much experience in being charming… but she was going to try! Maxwell, she noted, had not been allowed past the door. Strange… didn't they have servants in the house?
"Now tell me about Durmstrang, dear." Narcissa said cheerily, guiding Hermione down what seemed like an infinite amount of Slytherin-green hallways. One could get lost in a second in this house… she'd have to get Draco to take her everywhere!
"Well, the school itself is beautiful- a castle. And a real castle, not like that Hogwarts." she said airily, ignoring the tinge of guilt she felt at insulting her home. Narcissa laughed.
"Yes, Hogwarts does have a rather - rustic- sort of charm. Do they teach you well there?"
"Oh, of course." she said, with a superior smirk that was quite easy to fake. Fleur Delacour had mastered it. "You can imagine how shocked I was when Draco told me they only teach Defense against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. Why, Dark Arts and Potions is my favorite class! I've the highest marks in the school." she bragged on, rattling off the things Viktor had told her about the school, dormitories, and classes… slightly altered for her, of course. She knew their- relationship- would be good for something.
"Dear me, it sounds delightful." Narcissa said when she'd finished, heaving a melancholy sigh. "Makes me almost wish I'd sent Draco there- of course, it's too late for him to switch now. But I'm glad he's met you- I'm sure you'll be a wonderful influence." Changing moods quickly, she flashed Hermione a smile full of dazzling white teeth, as they stopped in front of a door. Now she knew where Draco had gotten it.
"And here we are." she announced, pushing open a small, rounded stone door with flourish. She seemed to take the job of hostess very seriously- though, of course she would. It was her only job.
The room was larger than any bedroom Hermione had ever seen, a bit bigger than the dormitory she'd been sleeping in only last night. The one she shared with three other girls. It was circular and stonewalled, and, looking out the window, she realized she was at the top of one of the soaring white towers. The floor was covered in soft-looking bleached white sheepskin rugs, and there was a small lit fireplace carved into one of the walls. Next to it sat a stack of fragrant wood, in a small, silver wicker basket. There was a small oblong-shaped door next to that, which she assumed led to a bathroom.
Directly across from the fireplace was the bed, a gauze silver canopy draped over the top. The entire room was done in gray and silver, right down to the inlay on the ivory bedposts. Including the giant wardrobe next to the bed, which seemed to gleam silver. A full-length mirror hung between the wardrobe and the fireplace, conforming to grooves in the wall. The silver it was set in gleamed, as if it had just been polished, and there were jewels, what looked like emeralds, pressed into the silver around the top. Something was written there, as well, in Latin- she'd translate it later. After a moment spent in stunned silence, she allowed herself to breathe.
"It's lovely." she whispered, barely able to believe her eyes. Narcissa smiled down at her, relieved. Astonished, Hermione realized she'd been waiting to see if she was used to better. She couldn't even imagine better at the moment.
"I'm so glad you like it, my dear. Now I'm sure you've packed plenty of clothes, but I've taken the liberty of putting some of my old things in the closet- in case you want to please an old married maid." she chuckled, with a sad twinkle in her eyes. For the first time, Hermione felt a twinge of pity for Narcissa Malfoy- she must have been the only woman to live in this manor for years. It must get awfully lonely.
"You're too kind to me, Madam." she said, curtsying again. Narcissa laughed.
"Oh do call me Narcissa, dear- or at least when the boys aren't around. I know you want to make a good impression on Lucius- God knows it was difficult enough to bring old Marcus Malfoy around to liking me- I wasn't born into this family, you know." she nervously looked behind her, worried she'd said too much. But Hermione smiled, trying to put her at ease.
"Thank you… Narcissa."
Hermione yawned, and fell back onto the silver featherbed, delighting in the 'whoosh' of the silk and down. After trying on all of Narcissa's old, but beautiful dresses, and cautiously lighting the fireplace, she'd finally decided a good nap was in order. She wasn't quite sure how dinner went at Malfoy Manor- somehow she imagined it was a stiff, formal affair, full of forced conversations and long, stifling silences. That, of course, was before she had met Mrs. Malfoy, who, after some reflection, she'd decided was quite a pleasant woman, if a bit chatty.
She glanced over out the window, still taken aback at the sight of the grounds. Or what grounds she could see. There were no boundaries, as far as she could tell… for all she knew, the Malfoy's property could extend beyond the mist-shrouded mountains that she could barely make out. Her window looked directly out on a small grove, filled with what looked like fruit trees. Perhaps a small apple orchard? She wondered which woman would have thought to plant it- such a humble, yet beautiful thing among so much grandeur. She supposed, as it was for Narcissa, it must have always been slightly depressing for women to live in the house. Though she'd never met a woman who wasn't a Malfoy through marriage, yet- perhaps, and it was a frightening thought, the women were as cold as the men. Most of the men.
Her eyes drifted lazily about the room, settling on the eccentric mirror. They flitted over the inscription, and she squinted, trying to make out the engravement at a distance. Suddenly, it came to her, and she sat up straight.
May my daughter live in peace. And the daughters after her.
She shivered, and leapt to her feet, flying to the window. Looking over the edge of the balcony, she stared down at the apple trees. They were roughly in the shape of an M. She looked straight down the edge of the house- the wall around the window was smooth, for yards around. There was nothing to climb on to, and nothing to jump down on.
The door was stone. The walls were stone. With a sinking feeling, she pressed her palm against it- lodestone. No magic could be used inside this room, the power of the stone would absorb it immediately.
It had been a prison.
As if a rescue from the whirlwind of her frantic thoughts, a knock came at the door, and Hermione shook her head. She quickly fixed her hair- Hermia LeFay would never allow herself to be seen in such a state of disarray.
"Come in." she called. Her now lovely face broke out into a very uncharacteristic grin at seeing Draco, the beloved and familiar smug smile on his face, and she stood and walked to him. He reached out and pulled her closer for a hard kiss, leaving her gasping for breath, and quickly continued past her to the open wardrobe, eyeing the dresses inside.
"My mother's." he acknowledged quietly. She nodded, joining him in front of the ornately carved maple relic.
"Yes, she told me she'd like it if I wore them-" He laughed at that, and turned to face her, eyes sparkling. She raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"You're the first one of them she's allowed to sleep here. And wear her clothes- seems she's taken to you, and in such a short amount of time! But mother always was attracted to beauty…" he trailed off, earnestly looking into her eyes. "You know, I'll never be able to see you with that face, Hermione."
She frowned. He shouldn't be calling her Hermione in this house… wasn't he the first to tell her that she would be Hermia alone for three months? Perhaps his parents had ways to listen in, paintings or mirrors- but no, she was being paranoid. Draco knew this house better than anyone. But what did he mean, her?
"Me how?"
"You're just… different. And I'm not sure if I enjoy it." he sighed, and ran a hand through his soft blonde hair, sitting down on her bed. She sat next to him.
"Enjoy it? Draco, I did this all- these looks, in part for you. I could have made myself look like Pansy Parkinson, and I'm sure your mother would have been just as pleased. Your father even more."
He grimaced, affirming that she had been entirely correct.
"I just miss seeing your face, Hermione. It's the same smile, the same glare- just trapped, in a body I can't recognize." he cupped her face in his hands, suddenly grave. "Promise me you won't change, Hermione Granger. Change your mind, but do not change."
She searched his eyes for any hint of emotion- and found none. Her only clue was the frantic, troubled tone in his voice. What did he mean, change? Was she acting any different? Oh, of course she was… but she was simply playing a part. Just acting, so his parents wouldn't suspect. She needn't stay cold around him did she? Or is that what he wanted? Is he why she was doing this in the first place?
She swallowed, and nodded.
"I can stay the same, Draco. This face- it means nothing. It's just a ruse to fool your parents. I'm still the same woman inside."
"Girl." he smirked, leaned forward, and roughly captured her mouth in his. Captured was the only way to describe it- he was in control, yes, but she was still there, and still fighting him. After a few blissful moments they pulled away, faces flushed.
"You still kiss the same." he said smugly, seeming satisfied at last. She rolled her eyes as he stood, and walked towards the door.
"Wear one of my mother's dresses tonight- we're having a lot of people you'll recognize for dinner. Parties here are always a fancy affair, and you'll be expected to make an impression, without your parents." he called over his shoulder, halfway out the door. She jumped to her feet, stopping in front of him and blocking his way out.
"Draco! You can't do this to me- a party, already?"
"You'll be fine, Hermia." he said, eyeing one of the paintings on the wall. She followed his eyes, and nodded slowly. "I'm sure my parents' friends will take to your quite well, they know your uncle."
"If they serve Lord Voldemort, Draco, I'm sure we'll get along quite famously without Uncle Sev's help." she said airily, looking down her nose at him. His smile for her was less genuine, which brought her no small amount of comfort.
"I'll see you in a few hours."
He leaned down and pressed his frozen lips against hers. They both pulled away quickly, and she returned to the lonely little room.