Chapter Two
Draco led the way through the creepy manor to his room which Hermione was delighted to see knew the meaning of colour, albeit green. The room was practically all green and silver with serpent motifs on just about everything. From the ceiling several racing brooms hung, suspended in the air. Black, or possibly dark green, drapes shielded the room from the sunlight, but after being in the Manor most of the day Hermione was beginning to become accustomed to the gloom, alleviated only by the old fashioned lamps.
"Well what do you think?" Draco asked as he flung himself onto the bed.
"It's very nice, but I wonder what you would have done if you hadn't been put in Slytherin: your room would have been all wrong." Hermione smiled at her little joke.
"Not funny, Mudblood."
"Uh, you can't call me that anymore remember?" Hermione grinned.
Draco cursed.
"So where do I sleep?" Hermione looked about the room.
"It's a big bed, you know." Draco pointed out.
"I have to share a bed with you?" Hermione nearly screamed.
"God, not so loud." For the second time that day Draco's hands went to his ears, "There is nothing wrong with sleeping in the same bed."
"I disagree, Malfoy."
"Well sorry, Malfoy, but we are married." Draco grinned evilly back at Hermione.
Hermione shuddered, "Please don't remind me; and never call me that."
Hermione could tell that she was about to enter a yelling match with her husband and worst enemy, but was fortunately saved from the experience by Mipsy suddenly appearing next to her.
"Mrs. Hermione?" The elf asked cautiously.
"Yes?" Hermione turned her attention to the elf.
"Mrs. Malfoy would like to see you." The elf fumbled with the hem of her pillowcase, "Can you please follow me."
"Certainly." Hermione left Draco alone in his room and followed the small elf through the Manor. Hermione began to pay more attention to the paintings on the wall. There was vast number depicting terrifying scenes of bloody battles and some even showing the massacre of hundreds of innocent muggles. Hermione quickly stopped looking at the paintings after about ten metres.
The elf led her to a large wooden door; the house seemed to be full of such doors, closed to keep out prying eyes. Mipsy turned to Hermione, "Mipsy shall announce you to Mrs. Malfoy, and you wait here for a moment."
With that Hermione was left standing outside the open door, listening for Mipsy to say her name. On cue she walked through the double doors in to the study. Narcissa was sitting at a desk, writing on a piece of parchment. "I'll be with you in a moment; please have a seat."
Hermione looking about the room spotted two armchairs placed in front of a fire. Taking one she waited for Narcissa to join her.
Narcissa took her time in joining Hermione by the fire and when she did so she sat with elegance and grace. "Hermione, we must discuss what it means to be a Malfoy. There are certain rules and standards which you must adhere to at all times. You are to carry the Malfoy name with pride. The first thing you should know, however, is that you are not to shame your husband, which means you shall remain loyal to him at all times. There is to be no 'relationships' on the side, as it were. In turn Draco will not cheat on you with anyone.
"Secondly, you will not do anything to compromise the Malfoy name; that means you will not disobey any of the wizarding laws. You may think that it is a little hypocritical of us to say this, but what Lucius does, he does to uphold the name of pureblood. This brings me to the third rule. You shall not disclose information about this family to anyone we do not wish it disclosed to. Should you break that we will know and you will be punished.
"Those are the basics. This is a book in which will be explained the rest of the things you will need to know. You will adhere to these guidelines without failure. Do you understand me?" Narcissa handed Hermione a book and looked her sternly in the eye.
"Yes, Mrs. Malfoy." Hermione nodded her head, a sorrowful expression on her face.
"Now, dear, we come to the fun part of our little discussion: fashion! The servants inform me that you have little to nothing in the way of suitable attire for a witch of this status. So I would like to introduce you to Madam Consillo. She is the finest designer in Europe and she will transform you into a lady of the Malfoy name." Narcissa clapped her hands and a thin witch walked in followed by a crowd of what Hermione was inclined to describe as minions.
Hermione was pulled from her seat and placed on a stool that one of the helpers had brought in. She then spent the next two hours standing up while people walked around her waving wands and fiddling with her hair. A tape measure, like the one from Ollivanders, flew about the place taking the most obscure measurements.
Hermione was relieved when Narcissa finally decided to be content with the selection of garments Madam Consillo had created. Sinking back into her seat Hermione noted that it was seven in the evening and she was in fact rather hungry.
"Hermione, dear, before you go, I want you to note that dinner will be at eight and you should not go wandering about the manor without escort, for your own safety." With that Narcissa shooed Hermione from the room and left her standing in the hall outside. Hermione looked up and down the hallway, trying to decide which way she should go. In fact she was also trying to decide where she should go.
"Can Mipsy be of assistance, madam?" Hermione jumped at the small voice at her side.
"Oh, Mipsy, yes you can." Hermione tried to slow her heart, "I was wondering where I should go. Do you have any ideas?"
"Mipsy would recommend Mrs. Hermione return to her room and ready herself for supper."
"Well then, lead the way." Hermione was disappointed that she did not have time to visit somewhere like the library; she had heard Draco boasting about it while at school.
As Mipsy led Hermione back to the room she shared with Draco, Hermione tried to keep track of the twists and turns, without much success. She was lost after fourteen rights, nine lefts and three flights of stairs; not in that order, of course. Only fifteen minutes had gone by when Mipsy and Hermione reached their destination.
"In there, Madam." The elf squeaked.
"Mipsy, before you go, may I ask how I call you if I am in need of your assistance?" Hermione bobbed down so she was looking the elf in the eye.
"Madam needs only to clap her hands or call Mipsy's name and I shall come." With that the elf disappeared.
Hermione opened the door to the bedroom and was greeted by a very angry Malfoy.
"What is the meaning of all this girly stuff?" He sneered, arms crossed, foot tapping on the floor.
"What girly stuff?" Hermione asked, walking past him. She hadn't spent six years at Hogwarts without learning how to get past the Slytherin.
"The girly stuff that was brought in here by a swarm of house elves." Draco motioned towards a new wardrobe that had been placed next to his.
Hermione walked over and flung open the doors, the space inside the cupboard had been magically increased so that it was a walk-in wardrobe. Hermione had never seen so many dresses, robes, gowns, shoes and even jewellery all in one place before. 'If only Lavender could see me now; she would go green with envy!' Hermione couldn't believe the array of garments that now surrounded her.
"So, care to explain this?" Draco walked to the entrance and glared in at Hermione.
"Your mother wanted me to be dressed more regally; it seems she went a little overboard with it."
"For once, Hermione, I find myself agreeing with you." Draco, despite his words, was also inside the wardrobe admiring the gowns.
Hermione was overwhelmed. It was several minutes before she realised that she had to change her outfit for dinner. She was still wearing the gown she had been married in and although it was very nice she didn't think the sleeves offered themselves to being worn while eating. There was a problem however, with Hermione not knowing what the dress code was for dinner, in a place like this she felt she should dress up. This presented a problem which all of her book knowledge could not solve, but a problem which almost every female faces everyday of her life: what to wear.
"Draco?" Hermione called. While she had been exploring Draco had retreated back into the main section of the bedroom; that is, out of the wardrobe.
"What?"
"What should I wear?"
"How the hell should I know?"
"Oh for crying out loud, come and help me."
Draco pulled himself away from the book he was reading and walked back to Hermione. He glanced around at the shelves, "You have a million clothes, Hermione, how can you have a problem with finding something to wear to dinner?"
"Too much choice," Hermione replied, "I've only ever had a few nice dresses at one time. On top of that there is the matter of a dress code which I happen to be unfamiliar with."
"Well, this will do," Draco pulled out a black robe in silk; there was a silver trim around the hem of the sleeves and around the neckline.
"I'm not sure about black," Hermione eyed the dress closely, "Isn't there a better colour?"
"There is no better colour than black, and as you can see there are plenty of outfits for you to choose from. It was you who asked for my help." Draco thrust the dress into Hermione's hands and walked back to his book.
Hermione ended up going with the black robes; she added a sliver chain belt that hung loosely around her waist. She charmed her hair so that it was up in a delicate French twist. She found a pair of silver earrings that matched a necklace which had a light blue crystal as a pendent.
"You ready yet?" Draco called.
"Yes, just a second." Hermione pulled on the second shoe and walked out into the bedroom.
"What do you think?" Hermione twirled around, showing off her outfit.
"It'll do." Draco walked out the door, Hermione in tow. She was a little peeved off at his response, but what did she expect? It was Draco Malfoy after all.
Dinner was an extravagant affair; Hermione found herself worrying about which fork to use, and the proper etiquette to ask for the butter. The rest of the Malfoy family didn't seem to be fazed by any of this and Hermione felt rather small and alien in such unfamiliar terrain.
Hermione also felt very nervous in the presence of a known death eater; she may not be counted as a muggle-born anymore but she was still a close friend to Harry Potter. However, if Lucius planed on doing something horrible to her he didn't do anything that evening, that is if you don't count forcing her to marry her worst enemy. The point of the matter is that he didn't do anything else to her.
After dinner Draco led Hermione back to their room.
"A couple of rules," He snapped, "I have the left side of the bed, you sleep with your clothes on, and I will return that simple courtesy. And you are not to wake me in the morning, for any reason."
Hermione stood at the side of the room, not really wanting to go any closer to the bed. Draco didn't seem to really care, he flicked his wand and was suddenly wearing green silk pyjamas, and he pulled back the covers and climbed into his bed. Rolling on his side, he seemed to fall asleep instantly.
Hermione didn't move for over an hour, but when she did she too flicked her wand and was wearing a scarlet nightgown. Her hair fell about her face, the normal bushiness replaced by loose curls thanks to Madam Consillo's assistants. She moved closer to the bed, but only so she could sit in a large office-style chair at a desk.
Curled up in the chair, Hermione cried herself to sleep.
Draco lay awake listening to her sobs until they finally subsided into silence. Sighing, he then fell into an uneasy sleep himself.
Hermione and Draco were married only three days before they were due to return to Hogwarts for the start of their seventh year. Hermione had been made Head Girl and Draco had somehow managed to become Head Boy. Hermione strongly and bitterly suspected that his father had placed pressure on certain influential people in order for that to happen. It had been decided that on the last day of the holiday Draco would take Hermione to Diagon Alley to collect their school supplies; Hermione had for some reason left this until now, despite her eagerness to make a head-start on her study.
The two days leading up to the trip away from the manor were hell for Hermione. Are examples needed? Right, of course they are. Hermione didn't sleep well the first night, not only because she was in a chair, but her dreams were plagued with horrifying pictures and images: scenes she had seen around the house. Of course she woke up early screaming her head off, discovering that the worst part of her dreams was real. Her screams woke up Draco and caused him to yell at her for over half an hour before he decided that she had cried enough and the only way she was going to stop is if he did.
Every meal time Hermione was forced to endure the company of people she knew were affiliated with the Dark Lord. She was afraid that Lucius would decide he didn't want her as part of his family and, to rid himself of her, simply kill her.
Narcissa took every possible moment to "train" Hermione in the etiquette required to be a Malfoy; Hermione had found this very demeaning and degrading. She was told hundreds of things she had to do and hundreds more that she couldn't. Narcissa also constantly "corrected" her posture, which was good for an average person but obviously didn't stand up the standards of a Lady Malfoy.
The second night at the Manor Hermione, decided that she would brave the bed and hope that Draco didn't kill her for it. She simply couldn't stand another night in the chair, which was comfortable to sit in but not to sleep in. The bed was alright and as Draco pointed out to her it was quite large so they weren't too close together when they fell asleep. Waking up was another matter. One, or possibly both of them, wriggled about in their sleep. This meant that Hermione woke up in her least favourite person's arms. For the second time in two days she gave her vocal cords a morning workout by screaming her head off. Again Draco was woken and again he exercised his voice by yelling at Hermione for half an hour.
The good thing about having to stay at Malfoy Manor? The library, of course. Hermione found this on her second day of wedded bliss. (AN: CoughBSCough) This was where Hermione spent most of her time: scanning the walls of the three floor library that could rival Hogwarts and easily win. There were thousands of volumes crammed into the shelves. Some of the books looked very old and obviously handwritten, possibly even only copies of original manuscripts.
Hermione made the library her sanctuary; nobody else seemed to use it, and when they did it was big enough for Hermione to avoid them. She learnt so much in those two days which she had to spend there. She had brought with her a book she had bewitched in her second year so it had as much space as she'd ever need, and she'd been slowly filling it up with spells and potions written in her meticulously neat writing. She managed to fill upwards of twenty pages with new spells she learnt during her short study.
The day before the trip back to the enchanted castle, Hermione and Draco flooed to Diagon Alley to acquest their new school supplies. The trip to the Alley was not unpleasant, only lasting a spilt second; in fact Hermione found it quite enjoyable to be able to escape from the hands of the majority of the Malfoy family. Upon arrival in the shabby pub that led into the most popular wizarding market in Britain, Draco pulled Hermione aside.
"Hear me well, Hermione, because I only plan on saying this once." Draco's eyes narrowed, "While in the presence of any other wizards or witches you are not, I repeat not, to inform anyone of our union. I don't want people to know until I want them to. That means if you meet Scarhead or Weasel you are not going to tell them you are married. Understand?"
Hermione looked at Draco reproachfully. "Why would I ever want anyone to know that I've been forced to marry my worst enemy?"
"How the hell should I know," Draco sneered.
"Well, at least we are on the same page here." Hermione fixed a stray strand of hair that had come loose, "We tell no one. We'll meet up here at four to go back to… that place."
"You mean home?" Draco corrected.
"I refuse to call it that."
Hermione pulled away from Draco and made her way out the door and to the entrance to Diagon Alley. She counted the bricks and tapped three times. She loved to watch as the archway formed itself in the brick work. Draco walked up beside her.
"Take this." He handed her a small ring.
"What is it?" Hermione asked taking it in her hands.
"It works in the same way as a muggle credit card. It's a seal that signifies the Malfoy account at Gringotts; you can charge things to the account by pressing that onto a wax seal at the bottom of a form and signing your name next to it."
"Wow. Thanks, I guess." Hermione place the ring on her finger to keep it safe.
"Don't thank me; it was mother's idea." Draco shrugged, "Just remember to use the Malfoy name instead of Granger or it won't work."
Hermione frowned as he walked off down the alleyway, and then gathering her wits she followed him. The first place that Hermione went was Eeylops Owl Emporium. Hermione had formulated a plan while she was in the Malfoy library; it wasn't much of a plan, but it would make her life a little more bearable. She bought a small Tawny owl called Helena. Carrying the cage to Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour, she sat down at one of the tables outside after ordering herself a large milkshake. She pulled out a quill, inkbottle and a piece of parchment. Hermione pause before setting the quill the page.
Dear mum and dad,
I feel the need to apologise for the delay of this letter but I regret to say that I have not had the opportunity to write. The scene in which we parted could not be worse for either of us and, without being there to see for myself, I feel it may have ripped you up inside. I want to say that I love you both very much and you will always be my parents.
The past few days have been the worst in my life to date. It seems difficult to believe that I am now Mrs. Hermione Malfoy. You have no idea how hard that is for me to write, the tales which I used to regale you with during the holidays were only a portion of the horrible things Draco Malfoy did to my friends and me. Coming to terms with my marriage to him is very difficult, to say the least.
However that is not the reason I have decided to write you this letter. I felt that this is as hard on you as it is for me, perhaps worse for you because you are isolated from the magic world with no way of contacting me. This is where my plan comes into play. This owl, Helena, is for you. You may use her to send letters to me or anyone else you may wish. The witch in the Emporium assured me that she will be a delight for you to have and will listen to you.
I don't recommend that you send me letters at the Malfoy Manor; as you know, Lucius Malfoy frowns upon muggles and I do not know how he would react to me receiving a letter from you. This should not be a problem: as you know I return to school tomorrow on the first of September, and I will be able to receive letters at school with no problems.
That is all I feel I need to say at this time, apart from reassuring you that, while I have not been enjoying my time as part of the Malfoy family, I have not been mistreated in any way that would cause you to need to be concerned; remember I am allowed to do magic now that I am of age and am capable of defending myself if the need arrises.
I love you both,
Hermione.
Hermione scanned over the letter before sealing it with a mild spell so only those she wished to could open it. She then turned to Helena.
"I want you to take this to Carl and Evelyn Granger. They are your new owners so you can stay with them once you have completed your task. Do you understand?"
Helena nipped Hermione's finger in an affectionate way which Hermione took to mean yes. Then, with the letter attached securely, the small owl took flight, leaving Hermione sitting at the table sipping her milky drink.
Hermione passed the majority of the day at Flourish and Blotts. Apart from the large stack of books she was buying for school, she had another pile for extra reading recommended by her Professors at her request and a few other books that she decided that she just wanted to purchase for light reading and general interest.
As she wobbled over to the counter, the large number of books blocking her view, she heard a familiar voice.
"Hey Harry, if I had to take a guess I'd say that walking book-pile was Hermione."
"That's because it is Hermione, Ron."
Hermione smiled at her two best friends through the books. Finally reaching the counter she was able to put them down and turn back and face Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.
"Hello." She beamed for the first time in days.
"Hey 'Mione," Harry smiled back, "doing a little light reading, I see."
"Light?" Ron turned to face Harry, and then a look of realisation appeared on his face, "Oh, right. Light reading by Hermione's standards."
"Most of them are school books." Hermione pressed a ring on her hand into a pool of wax at the base of a page the cashier had handed her and signed it with a self inking quill she'd bought earlier in the day.
"School books?" Ron looked flabbergasted. "How many more subjects than us are you taking?"
"Not that many: after third year I intend never again to overdo myself." Hermione pulled out her wand and shrunk her new books so that they would all fit into a bag she had slung over her shoulder.
"Hermione, something about you looks different." Harry tilted his head in confusion.
"Yeah, it's probably just the hair, it's been fixed up." Hermione frowned a little.
"You don't like it?" Ron observed more than questioned.
"Not really, I don't like the idea of changing my hair, or anything about myself for that matter. It loses its natural look." The three students walked out of the shop and headed back up towards the Leaky Cauldron.
"Trust me, Hermione, it looks great. One could even say it looks natural." Harry opened the door to allow his two friends entry to the shop.
"Thanks, Harry." Hermione smiled.
They grabbed a table in a corner of the room so that Harry wouldn't be recognised and they could talk in talk in peace. Hermione let Harry and Ron do most of the talking; apparently they had spent most of the holidays together.
For two weeks Ron's brother Charlie had asked Ron and Harry to come and help look after a sick dragon in Romania. Hermione was fascinated by the techniques Ron described for looking after the dragon. She laughed when Harry told how he'd been pouring a liquid down the sedated dragon's throat and it had sneezed mucus all over him. Fortunately Harry had the good sense to laugh too and there was no harm done.
Ron talked for a while about his twin brothers' business. Apparently they hadn't done too well at the beginning but they had quickly gained a loyal clientele and were now doing really well. They were also having lots of fun experimenting with new ideas for products; their latest creation was a chewing gum that changed a person's voice when they were eating it. Ron gave Hermione a piece which she cautiously tried and had Harry and Ron in hysterics as her voice became high and squeaky like a house-elf's.
Hermione spent the afternoon laughing and enjoying herself; pushing the horrors of the past few days from her mind. All too soon, however, she found that it was time for her to leave, meet up with Draco and return to the dreaded manor for one more night before her return to Hogwarts.
Draco was tapping his foot impatiently when Hermione ran up to him. They both grabbed some floo powder from a bag and returned to the manor. It was then Hermione realised that this was a big mistake, for more than one reason: it quickly became evident that Draco had been waiting to return home before letting loose at her.
"Do you have any idea how long I have been standing there waiting for you to show up?" He practically yelled.
"No, and I don't really care." Hermione folded her arms defiantly, "But I bet you're going to tell me anyway."
"Too right I will." Draco sneered, "Five minutes. Five bloody minutes!"
"Oh, that's terrible." Hermione's voice oozed with sarcasm.
"Don't mock me." Draco drawled, calming his voice; this gave a dangerous edge to what he was saying.
"I'll mock whomever I want to." Hermione turned her back on him and waited for his next outburst before turning around. She didn't have to wait long.
"You will not mock me!" Draco walked around to face her and stared straight into her toffee eyes with his cold grey ones, "Nobody mocks a Malfoy and gets away with it."
"News flash, Malfoy: I am a Malfoy and as such I can mock whomever I want." Hermione hated using that one; calling herself a Malfoy only served to remind her of the situation she was in, but it would stump Draco and that was all that was important at this moment.
"I'd hardly call you a Malfoy." Draco hissed; he knew it was a weak rebuttal but he wasn't going to let Hermione win this battle.
"So what the hell am I doing here then?" Hermione screamed, "If I'm not a sodding Malfoy then why do I have to live in this god forsaken house? Why do I have to follow all of the Malfoy 'rules'? If I'm not really a Malfoy why do I have to wear this vile ring on my finger? Why do I have to share a bed with the scum of the earth, if I'm not a Malfoy?"
Draco glared at Hermione: she had a point. He couldn't rebut that one. By law, she was a Malfoy. In his parents' opinions, she was a Malfoy. Even Draco could admit that, but that didn't mean he had to like it or even admit that he understood that.
Hermione's voice dropped down to barely a whisper. "If I'm not a Malfoy then why can't I have my own life?"
Hermione turned away from Draco and began to walk up the stairs. Half way up she was joined by Mipsy, having been forbidden from wandering the manor on her own.
Draco had no response to Hermione's actions. He was completely stumped: something about the words she spoke, or perhaps the tone of voice or the actions that accompanied it, made him think. She really was living though her own personal hell. Draco didn't like the situation any more than she did, but he was able to stay at home. He still had his parents, his wealth, his childhood home; everything he grew up with was still here for him. Hermione had none of that. It was at this moment that Draco realised something: he cared.
Well, for a second, anyway; two at most.