A/N - Yes, I know, I always apologise for taking such a LOOONG time to update, but, what to do? Circumstances prevent me from being an author full-time and, believe me, it's harder on me than on you.

A lot has happened since I last updated; the most important, the release of the Half-Blood Prince. I thought it was a good book (but I'm still kind of deciding, though I finished it on the 17th), but very sad. The events that take place in my story may not fit with those in HBP, though I will make amendments wherever possible, but please bear with me regarding this.

This chapter is the climax of the story and I sat and wrote it in one sitting. Please do review to tell me what you think of it and I'll try to be faster next time. Enjoy!

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Chapter 19 – Decision

As Hermione walked into the Malfoys' gigantic mansion greeted by a frigid Narcissa Malfoy, she gazed with awe at the magnificent decorations adorning its ancient walls. She had her arm in Ron's, and Harry and Laetitia walked just a little behind them. The hallway was lit by oil lamps and the floor was covered by a red carpet – one of the few non-medieval touches. A huge banner stated in sleek, compressed letters, 'The Betrothal of the Most Honourable the Marquis of Sleverthen Draco Malfoy with Her Ladyship Marissa Beaumont'. At first Hermione was surprised, but then she remembered that people like the Malfoys and the Beaumonts formed the aristocracy of the wizarding world, though their titles were not of as much importance as their pure blood and power.

It was a quarter past six and the hallway and ballroom were packed with guests. Indeed, the entire aristocracy or, as Ron darkly phrased it, "all the bad blood" of the wizarding world was present. The ballroom was certainly the centerpiece of the mansion, with its stoned walls, glowing lamps, wooden furniture and dais for special guests. Yet, despite the magical glow emanating from the lamps, the room was very dark; rather like a dungeon, thought Hermione. The guests were being offered refreshments in wooden bowls and glasses. Hermione recklessly tried a glass of a flaming red liquid and immediately collapsed into a coughing fit. She noticed that she, Harry, Ron and Laetitia were being eyed coldly wherever they went and generating a lot of surprised, sometimes whispered, more often loud, conversation. She grinned to herself.

Harry and Ron kept exclaiming when they spotted any famously dark wizards, most of whom were missing or presumed dead. "Gosh, that's Francis Ledgerweed! I thought he died years ago!" or "Ron, look, it's Newert Rauwel; the Order's been looking for him for ages!" were becoming quite commonplace exclamations. The trio were making lots of mental notes of information for Dumbledore and even Laetitia tried to help, by pointing out shady characters and screwing up her eyes trying to memorise a face.

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While the four were busy with work for the Order, Draco Malfoy stood at an indoor terrace and gazed at the face he had grown to adore. She looked so beautiful…how was he supposed to do this when there she was standing looking so exquisite and innocent? Draco sighed. For the billionth time, he wished he wasn't himself.

It wasn't all bad, though, he though, as a slow twisted smile spread across his face. After all, he had invited them, hadn't he? They were bound to obtain a lot of information for the Order while they were there and Draco hoped against hope that they would use it to destroy his father's latest plans. If they didn't…well then he would just have to give them a leg up.

A servant came with a glass of firewhiskey. "You asked for the whiskey, sir?" he asked tentatively.

"You may hope I did," he replied and took the glass, disposing of its contents at one go. The servant looked scared and scurried down the stairs.

Draco fixed his gaze once again on the trio, who were slowly making their way through the crowd. Who was that red-head with Potter? Ah, he had heard about Potter's little girlfriend. Draco looked at her face intently. She was pretty enough, but looked too much like a doll. Draco's tastes ran more towards expression than perfection. And Weasley? So he hadn't found himself a girlfriend, that's why he was escorting Hermione. Draco wondered if Hermione had told her boyfriend about the whole affair. Maybe she hadn't gotten the opportunity yet. Maybe she felt it wasn't important enough to mention…

No. Draco didn't doubt her feelings for a moment. He didn't doubt his either. That was the problem.

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Half an hour into the party and Hermione was already bored. The room was overcrowded and there was still no sign of Draco. Marissa had appeared to graciously greet her guests, though there was a presence of politeness and an absence of cordiality in her greeting for Hermione and the rest. She did look very nice in an ice-blue gown, with a darker sash round it, but Harry, Ron and Laetitia assured Hermione there was no question as to who was the prettier.

They had certainly gotten a lot of information; aside from spotting dark wizards, the trio had also overhead bits of conversations and gathered that the Death Eaters were planning a major attack on a famous wizarding church within the next fortnight. Also, that one of their members was missing and it was speculated that he had run away of choice. It was vital for the other Death Eaters to find him immediately, because he knew too much. Hermione's blood ran cold when she thought of his fate on capture.

Finally, after an hour, Draco made his appearance. His father looked a little – was it possible? – relieved, when he finally arrived.

Draco was attired in the traditional grey dress robes of the Malfoy family and they suited him very well. He appeared cool and composed, but Hermione could detect a great deal of reserve in his manner. He appeared to save greeting the trio and Laetitia for the end, for he made a circle right across the room and greeted everyone before he reached them.

"Harry, Ron…" he began. His gaze fell on Laetitia and he inquired, "And this must be the lovely Laetitia Farshawe; I've met your father occasion, Miss Farshawe."

Hermione was torn between irritation at his ignorance of her and surprise at his acquaintance with Mr Farshawe.

Laetitia smiled and replied, "Yes, Mr Malfoy. My father said good things about you."

Draco bowed, but said nothing in response. He turned, hesitating slightly, toward Hermione.

"Hermione," he said in a heavy voice. "You look beautiful."

Hermione managed to smile, though she felt a familiar constriction in her throat. She raised her hand to him and he held it tightly before brushing it with his lips. A tingling sensation permeated her body.

"The-the house looks…" she stammered.

"Garish?" grinned Draco. "You know my parents…" he tapered off.

Hermione felt despair piercing her heart. This wasn't what she wanted; this wasn't how it was supposed to be.

The band started strumming a lovely waltz and Draco held his hand out.

"Would you like to dance?"

Hermione inserted her hand in his and he led her to the dance floor.

They took their places on the floor; her hand in his, his other hand on her waist. As they moved with the music, Hermione realized the impropriety of it all and noticed the shocked glances of the guests. She looked up at Draco and said, "Draco, we can't…all these people…"

"None of them is going to stop me from dancing with you here, right now."

"But Marissa…"

"She should know that my heart has always belonged to another."

Hermione said nothing, not trusting herself to reply. She looked downwards, suddenly feeling like a shy schoolroom miss. But then she looked up, with renewed courage and in that one moment that her eyes met his, she knew that she would never fall in love again; knew that what the two of them shared was so much beyond love; it was a bond that could never be broken. They waltzed around the room, lost in each other, completely oblivious of their surroundings. The song ended and the band tentatively struck up another waltz, but neither of them noticed.

Finally, after a long time, Draco broke the silence.

"Hermione, I can't do this."

The dream faded. She prepared to stop dancing. "I know…I told you…all these people…"

"I'm not talking about the waltzing. I mean I can't marry Marissa."

Hermione's eyes opened wide. "But, Draco, I thought you decided it was best to…"

"I was wrong," he replied shortly. "I can't marry someone else knowing that I am destroying your happiness along with mine."

"But Draco…"

"I've always done what my mind tells me is my duty, my obligation, but this time, I just know it's wrong. I have to follow my heart."

Hermione recalled Professor McGonnagall's words and nodded. Draco was right. No good could come of following the mind.

"I'm going to break off the engagement and apologise to all these people for bringing them out here for nothing, but I need your support."

"Of course, Draco. You always have it."

The song ended then and the two stopped waltzing. Instead, Draco took Hermione's hand and walked towards the platform that had been set up for the engagement ceremony. A microphone was there and Draco picked it up. His audience awaited his speech with baited breath and his father wore a furious expression.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," began Draco. "You have all been invited here tonight for the purpose of witnessing my engagement to Marissa Beaumont, the daughter of one of my father's oldest friends. The betrothal between Miss Beaumont and myself is of long standing and I felt myself committed to it. However, circumstances alter one's commitments and they alter one's feelings. I find my own have altered me dramatically and therefore I can no longer feel committed to this betrothal. It is to terminate this engagement that I stand before you now and I wish to thank you all for your presence here tonight and to offer my apologies for any inconveniences or offences. Miss Beaumont," he added. "All I can say to you is, I am sorry. I am very sorry if you have felt yourself committed to me and I wish to assure you that I have every wish for your future happiness. You could not find it with me. We should not suit. Once again, I am sorry."

A silence proceeded this remarkable speech and Hermione looked at Draco, impressed. However, the silence was short-lived and it was broken by a furious cry of "WHAT?" from Miss Beaumont.

She marched onto the platform and held Draco's robes in her clenched fists. "How dare you?" she demanded in a voice shaking anger. "How dare you humiliate me like this? You think that you can calmly stand there and announce that you are no longer 'committed' to me and walk off with this filthy little mudblood and I will just stand there and swallow it? Well, you're wrong, Draco Malfoy. I will not let you humiliate me and my entire family like this."

"Marissa," said Draco, disengaging his robes from her clutches. "First of all, I must ask you not to insult Miss Granger in that vulgar fashion. And secondly, I am sorry. I never intended to humiliate you. But, really, for your happiness and mine, it is better that we part."

"I don't care what you think, Draco, but we are betrothed and we will go through with this betrothal if I have to force you to the altar."

"No, Marissa. I apologized and I meant it. But nothing you can say or do will make me change my mind and that is final."

Marissa was a bit taken aback. She was not used to having her will crossed like this. Luckily for her, her father appeared by her side and added his commands to hers. A large scene followed, where Marissa, Mr Beaumont and Mrs Malfoy alternately hammered Draco. Mrs Malfoy tried both anger and pleading, but to no avail. None of the guests left. They were all completely absorbed in the scene and nothing short of force would induce them to leave the sight of this sensational engagement. Harry, Ron and Laetitia appeared by Hermione's side and supported her through the multiple insults that were flung at her by the outraged in-laws and spoilt daughter.

Finally, Draco got tired of the whole scene and thundered, "This argument is over. I am not going to change my mind and the betrothal is terminated. I apologise to the guests, who are now requested to return to their own homes."

Reluctantly, the guests started to leave, full of the scandal they had just witnessed. Finally, silence prevailed on the assembled group and everyone had a chance to calm down or enlarge their fierce emotions. Stealthily, Mr Malfoy entered the group and looked at Draco, cold fury in his eyes. But Draco was a match for him and an equally cold fury raged in his identical grey eyes.

"So, you have finally shown your true colours, Draco. I am ashamed to think that any Malfoy could do what you have just done."

"And I am ashamed to think that I bear the name of Malfoy," replied Draco coldly.

"Obviously, merely bearing the name does not bring the greatness that is inherent in most Malfoys."

"And I suppose I must be thankful for that."

Mr Malfoy's eyes glinted with anger and he said, "Go. Do not enter this house again. You are not my son. I hereby disclaim all responsibility for you. You may go to your doom."

"It is not my doom that is pending, father."

With that, Draco took Hermione's hand and walked out of the ballroom with her, closely followed by Harry, Ron and Laetitia. They left the mansion and walked out of the majestic gates. The gates shut behind them and bolted.

"This is the last time that I or any of us enters these grounds. The doors are closed forever."