Sold-Chapter 22- What a Lovely Dinner Party!
By Marmalade Fever
A.N.: Stole the chapter title from one of my other fanfics. Hee hee.
Hermione, her counterpart, and "Good" Malfoy were all in the kitchen, watching house-elves at work. "Bad" Malfoy was in a spare bedroom, napping.
"I told him I'd take him to the Manor in the morning," Malfoy said, searching through drawers for a tablecloth.
"Stubborn, aren't you?" Hermione M. commented, opening a drawer and pulling out a very large flowered tablecloth. He held his hand over his heart and pretended to look hurt, but then he winked.
"So who all are coming?" Hermione asked, following the couple into the dining room.
"Let's see," he counterpart said, using her wand to levitate the cloth. "The Potters, the Longbottoms, the Weasleys—Ron and Eliza—and the Thomases." She levitated a vase of flowers onto the table, as well as plates and cutlery.
"So when are you going to ask?" Malfoy said.
"Hmm?" Hermione asked, looking to him. "Ask what?"
"We know you've been dying to find out how we ended up together."
Hermione bit her lip. He was right on the nose about that one. "Well, Evander told me a bit, but there were blanks. You, I mean, the other Malfoy, told me about the Marriage Contract."
The other Hermione nodded and went to a cupboard to pull out a scrapbook. "After school got out we didn't see each other. The day after Draco's twenty-fifth birthday, he sent me an owl." She opened the scrapbook to the first page.
Dear Miss Granger,
I would be most appreciative if you would meet me at seven o'clock tonight at Basil Garden. Please do not be alarmed. I have a very important matter to discuss with you. Thank you very much. I look forward to seeing you again.
Sincerely,
Draco Malfoy
"You sound so… pitiful," Hermione said, looking to Malfoy.
"That's what I thought, too. So I met him for dinner. He looked so sad and so nervous, I had to listen. He showed me the contract and told me what his father had said, and it suddenly dawned on me that he had just proposed. It was the saddest thing you've ever heard." Malfoy rolled his eyes a little. "And so I decided to give him a chance. I went to his birthday party at the manor."
"Which was when my father decided to threaten her life," Malfoy said, chiming in. "He recommended that I do anything in my power to keep you… Hermione from getting away."
"So he proposed to me in a crowded restaurant in front of Witch Weekly and the Minister of Magic." She wrinkled her nose in annoyance. "They started chanting for me to kiss him. Didn't talk to him for a few days."
"I made up for it on our two-week anniversary." Malfoy winked.
"Everything went smoothly for awhile, until Christmas," she said, with a frown.
"What happened?" Hermione asked. The couple shared a look.
"Mid-snog," Hermione cringed, "I was summoned to my father's office. Antoine Bellover—don't know if you'd know her—had been recovered. She'd been frozen in a tundra. Father made me break off the engagement in pursuit of her instead.
"So I courted Bellover for a few months." He grimaced. "As Hermione so accurately put it, I was in denial. I wouldn't admit I had fallen in love. I ended up waiting until the wedding day to apparate away and beg you… her… to elope with me."
"How did your parents take it?" Hermione asked, absorbed with the story.
The couple looked at each other as if communicating silently. "His father," Hermione M. replied, "gave us permission. We were suspicious for the longest time before he finally explained that he didn't have a choice because of the media.
"Oh, look at the time. Our guests should be arriving," she ended. Sure enough, Kobby led several couples into the room. Harry and Penelope arrived first, along with Ron and Eliza. Neville and a strange woman came next. Last, and not totally expected from Hermione, were Ginny and Dean Thomas.
"So where's the newest Malfoy?" Harry asked, when they were all seated.
"Upstairs, moping," Hermione M. said, sipping her water.
"Moping?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I found him in the kitchen, paralyzed, earlier," "Good" Malfoy said, looking pointedly at Hermione.
Everyone turned to look at her. "Believe me, he had it coming," she assured them.
"What did he do?" the strange woman with Neville asked.
"I'd rather not say," Hermione replied, perhaps a little too shortly.
"So Hermione, er, Hermione G., I guess… wait, you aren't married, are you?" Ron asked.
"Er, no," she replied.
"Good. I mean, less confusion that way. Anyway, what's this other dimension like, for those of us left out of the loop?"
Hermione hesitated. How could she tell all of these innocent people about their despair? "Well, Ron, for starters, you're dead." He paled, apparently not expecting that answer. "Voldemort's in power. Harry's missing. And Malfoy bought me at a 'Mudblood Auction'." The silence was overwhelming.
"Speaking of whom," the better of the Malfoys said, looking to the door. "Nice of you to show up."
"My room service bell wasn't working," the long-haired Malfoy replied, seating himself beside his counterpart. He made a fuss with placing his napkin on his lap. "So," he said, at last, looking at the guests, "you married Longbottom." The strange woman beside Neville looked up, a glimmer of a smirk in place.
"Yes, yes I did. Mind if I ask how you know who I am?" she asked, folding her arms over her enlarged belly.
He grimaced, as if rethinking whether or not he should have brought it up. He was in a room full of people he hated, after all. "In my timeline, Antoine, we were married."
Neville stood so quickly no one would have thought it possible. "I'LL KILL HIM!"
"Oh, sit down, Longbottom. It's not like I'm interested."
"Yes, Sweetie, there's nothing to worry about. You remember how much I annoyed Draco, don't you?" Antoine said, patting his arm.
"Good" Malfoy nodded in agreement. "Trust me," he said, "Antoine's all yours. I've never been good enough at herbology to even interest her."
"Herbology?" "Bad" Malfoy repeated. "You're still stuck on that, are you?"
"It's my passion, and Neville's as well. We've co-written… fifteen books on it now," Antoine said. Hermione was beginning to remember her conversation about Antoine a few days ago, though she could only remember making fun of her name.
"Longbottom's written books?" he asked flatly.
"And so have I," "Good" Malfoy stated, easily.
"You're an author?" Hermione spoke up, at last, her heart beating faster for a reason she couldn't guess. If there was anything she truly cared about, it was books…
A.N.: Yeah, that ended weirdly. Thanks for reading, everyone!