Chapter 9:

After the coronation ceremony, Harry and Ron found themselves drifting along with the rest of the guests into the grand ballroom where the reception was being held. It was the same room Hermione inspected on her very first visit to the castle, its gilded crystal windows now twinkling brightly under the light of the chandeliers. Unfortunately, the beauty of the room was lost on one of its guests. Blind to everything but his own rage, Ron was seeing nothing but red.

"Can you believe what 'Mione just did?" he asked, his expression pure fury, his magic shooting out little warning sparks. Harry stepped back, having learned the hard way what that meant; Ron was about to blow. Jerking his head, he indicated that they move away from the main group so they could stand closer to the balcony.

Once they were there, Ron started up again. "How could she do this to us?"

"Lower your voice," Harry hissed, aware that Ron's comment had captured the attention of several high-ranking ministry officials who were standing nearby. "Hermione's done nothing wrong."

Ron gave Harry a look that clearly showed his opinion of that statement. "Nothing wrong? Noth….." he pursed his lips, words failing him. How could his best friend be so blind? "Harry, didn't you understand what happened? She picked Draco Malfoy. She's gonna be marrying a death eater. That's what that consort business was all about."

"I think I was able to grasp what happened in there, thanks. It just means he'll be a prince."

Ron's mouth gaped open in astonishment. His friend was acting thicker than Goyle and Crabbe. "Come on, Harry…..do I have to spell it out for you? Hermione knows all the secrets of the Order. What do you wanna bet she'll be telling them to him? And we both know what he'll do with that information. Dear old dad will get an earful to share with his Master. She's gonna betray us all!"

Harry drew back in surprise. Did Ron have so little faith in Hermione? He should know better. And maybe he did, but whether he didn't care or couldn't stop his skepticism no longer mattered. Harry was tired of it. Tired of feeling yo-yoed between his two best friends, not that Hermione had ever tried to pry him away from Ron. But the same could not be said of the boy beside him. After all, this was a consistent pattern in their relationship; Ron doubting Hermione at every turn. Just like he did at the Yule Ball. He'd accused her then of fraternizing with the enemy. At the time, Harry had passed it off as misplaced jealousy. But maybe Ron really had been suspicious. Maybe trust was harder for him to give than Harry thought. Still, it didn't make it right. And it was past time for him to point that out.

"You act like I'm dim-witted, yet you say something like that. It's stupid, Ron, and what's more, you know it. You know Hermione would never turn on us."

Ron bristled, instantly offended. Stupid was a word he'd heard far too often in his childhood. From his great aunt to his older brothers…even once from the ghoul living in their attic. Dumb ickle Ronnie, not half as clever as the rest of his family. It was why he was Mummy's favorite, the twins once said, inferring that it was only pity that had made him her pet. Just nine years old at the time, Fred and George had only been trying to wind up their baby brother, but it had turned out to be one of the very few cruel things they'd done in their life. They'd succeeded in wounding a vulnerable little boy, because that little boy had believed their lie, no matter that it was said in jest.

The result had been anything but funny.

Ever since, any remark questioning his intelligence instantly triggered an emotional response in Ron. A feeling of worthlessness would rise up, choking out all happiness. It was as if the word could conjure his own personalized dementor. It was one of the major reasons for Ron's insecurity, though he didn't know it. It was also why he unconsciously put Hermione down whenever he could; to his bruised psyche, her brilliance always felt like a threat.

"Yeah, that's right. I'm stupid. Always have been, I guess, 'cause I never thought 'Mione would marry Malfoy. Yet here we are."

Harry, not knowing the source of Ron's pain, gritted his teeth. "Look, Ron…..I'm not saying I'm thrilled about all this, but I don't think he's a…you know. He never got the mark."

"You can't know that, Harry."

"Actually, I can. I've seen him without a shirt and.."

"What?" Ron practically shouted.

Harry made a shushing motion with his hand. "Good gosh, calm down, will you? A healer came to check on him when I was at the castle that afternoon with Zabini."

"Why would a healer need to see Malfoy?"

Harry paused before answering. "He'd been hurt, Ron. By his own father."

Ron wasn't buying it. "Yeah, right. Or maybe it was just the story he was putting out."

"No. It's true enough. Listen, I know I haven't mentioned it, but I've learned that things are not as they seem with the Malfoys. Mrs. Malfoy….and Draco even more….they've always had to go along with Mr. Malfoy…he's been abusing them, Ron. That I know for sure."

His friend scoffed. "I have a hard time believing that. Don't you remember all the things he said at school? When he would brag about all the money his family had….and I know you haven't forgotten how he would threaten others by saying my father will hear about it. And the way he acted….did you forget about that, too? Strutting around Hogwarts like he owned the place. He even wanted Hermione to be the muggleborn who would die after the Chamber of Secrets was opened!"

Harry stared at the champagne glass in his hand, thinking; then he said, "I don't think he meant it."

"Oh, of course not… how silly of me," Ron mocked. "His heart has always been filled with nothing but daisies and buttercups."

Harry's gaze turned serious. "I've been talking to Zabini.'

"Well, there's your problem right there. Why would you believe anything he says?"

"Zabini's alright. I like him…now that I've gotten to know him. And I believe what he's told me. He's close to Draco, you know, and he's let me in on a few things. I can tell he's holding back on other stuff….but as I say, they're close. He's protective of Draco….. like you and I are to each other. That alone tells me Malfoy can't be all bad, to inspire loyalty like that."

Ron heaved a heavy sigh, a martyred expression clearly written on his face. The last thing he cared to hear was the way they'd been wrong about their enemy.

Harry, not noticing Ron's put-upon expression, continued with his thoughts. "So I've been thinking….maybe we should give him a chance. For Hermione's sake."

That apparently was the limit to what Ron could endure hearing.

"They really got to you, didn't they? Well then, why are you here talking to me? Go be with your new friends whose word you seem to trust more than the opinion of your best mate. I'm done here." Leaving Harry with a look of pure scorn, he took off by himself in the direction of the buffet.

Harry huffed. He loved Ron, but he could be so exhausting when he got in one of his moods. Feeling suddenly weary, he rubbed the back of his neck, unconsciously popping it, a strange habit he was unaware of having.

"Is he always that stubborn?" said a familiar voice behind him.

Turning around, he saw Pansy Parkinson with a flute of champagne in her hand, dressed in a violet blue dress. Not having seen her in any color other than green before, Harry was startled to discover how the blue in the dress brought out the depth of blue in her eyes. No wonder her parents had named her Pansy, for her eyes were the exact velvety-bluish color of the flower.

"You heard him?"

She rolled her eyes. "Me and half the people in here."

"Sorry about that," he said. "It's just…Ron is…."

"You don't have to tell me. I know. Weasley's a typical Gryffindor….self-righteous, judgmental….no tolerance for any point of view that doesn't line up with his. But what I want to know is…why aren't you like that?"

"Uh….me?"

"Uh-huh," she purred, deliberately moving closer.

Harry cleared his throat while pulling on his collar. Two textbook tells of a man suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Which he definitely was. Was Parkinson trying to accost him?

She grinned at Harry's obvious discomfort with her proximity. "What's the matter, Potter? Cat got your tongue?" She watched his expression as she inched into his personal space, giving him a teasing, sultry smile. "Or did a snake….bite it?"

Harry's eyes widened. He could feel his face begin to warm. Pansy was hitting on him. But why? And why was it making him feel like a nervous first year? He could stare down the dark lord in a fight for his life, but he couldn't match the gaze of the flirty witch in front of him.

Chuckling knowingly, Pansy stepped back a space. She'd pushed enough for now. Time would tell if the idea she'd planted in Harry's mind would take root. She'd not considered the bespectacled wizard until this year. She couldn't pinpoint what had garnered her interest in him now. But she wasn't afraid to explore it.

Returning to the question she'd asked him earlier, she said, "I'll tell you what I think, Potter….I think you were placed in the wrong house."

Harry was too surprised to deny it. "Who told you?"

"Told me what?"

"Oh….well, er….the sorting hat did suggest Slytherin to me….but I asked it to put me in Gryffindor."

Her smile grew until it was positively wicked. It reminded him of the Grinch's grin from the classic holiday cartoon he watched as a child.

"Ha! I knew it. I always thought I detected a trace of Salazar in you," she said, still smirking. Taking a dainty sip of her wine, she continued to make small talk, going from one topic of interest to the next. Harry was bemused, surprised to find her so chatty. Yet, the conversation was never boring. He found himself chuckling a few times listening to her describe the antics of some of her housemates. Finally, their discussion came around to the most sensational part of the evening.

"So….what do you think of our lovebirds? Were you as shocked as I was?"

"Not really. I'd seen them together before tonight."

"And what was your reaction when you did?

"To be honest, I didn't like it. But like you heard me tell Ron, I'm okay with it now. Mostly. Not that it matters. Hermione let me know in a hurry that it was her opinion that counted in that relationship, not mine."

"So you're not going to try to stop it?"

"As if I could, but no. She's my friend. I trust her."

Pansy tossed back the remainder of her drink before setting it on a tray that belonged to one of the palace elves. Toying with the strand of pearls around her neck, she began to measure Harry with an appraising, cat-like sharpness. "You know….I never bothered to notice it before, but you're kinda cute….and fit."

"Gee, thanks," Harry said, chuckling. "Just what I always wanted; to be objectified."

Pansy didn't deny it. "I think what does it for me is the scar. It makes you look rakish. And naughty." She chuckled when Harry's face turned a tomato red. "Aw….are you bashful? Relax, I was just teasing, Potter. Actually, it's kinda nice finding a wizard who doesn't think he's God's gift to women. Unlike your horrible Cormac McLaggen."

"Hey…he's not mine," Harry protested.

Pansy waved her hand unconcernedly. "Gryffindor, I mean. Well, I'm glad you're not like him. So vile. Anyhow, I can see now why Romilda sent you those potioned chocolates. And your honesty is refreshing. Don't find that often, either. I may just have to borrow a leaf from Draco's book and check out what's so great about you lions."

Harry's blush returned. "I…I uh…I'm with Ginny now."

Pansy shrugged her shoulders, unconcerned. "Then I guess it's a good thing I'm patient. Now go find your hotheaded friend before he spontaneously combusts, because he's been watching us the whole time, fuming all the while." She gave Harry a wink before she left, leaving a whiff of perfume in the air. "Catch you later, Potter."

The double meaning of her parting words went unnoticed by Harry. He was left breathing in the remaining fragrance, trying to place the scent. For some reason, its aroma comforted him. He knew he'd smelled it before….but where?

He might have been alarmed to discover that it was the exact same scent that had come from the amortentia potion he'd made in potions class a few weeks ago.

In a different room, another tête-à-tête was occurring, this one less teasing but far more romantic.

"I love you…so much. You just don't know how much," Draco moaned in inexpressible relief against Hermione's mouth. He'd barely allowed her to draw breath since leaving the assembly after the coronation.

The onslaught of his passion had taken her by surprise, although she didn't know why. Draco had always had a passionate personality. And to have held his feelings in check for as long he had…..no wonder he was all over her now. Not that she minded. He kissed her again and again, hugging her body tightly against his, his sprinkled whispers of adoration tickling her skin and filling her heart. And Merlin, the way he was kissing her…. she had no words to describe it other than toe-curling, even though she'd already known he was skilled in that area. But this….. this was different. He wasn't holding back anymore. It was as if a wall had come down ever since she'd named him as her consort. His desire for her was all-consuming.

"Can't breathe," she panted against his lips after a particularly amorous exchange. Pulling back to get some air, she saw him smiling at her in a way she'd not seen before. It was infinitely softer; his eyes, normally a grayish hue, now seemed to be filled with flecks of soft blue, reminding her of the ocean outside. And like the ocean, she saw a quiet power in their depths. Not just the power of magic, but a strength of commitment. His was a total devotion.

Cupping her face, he rested his forehead against hers.

"I don't think I can describe what I'm feeling…..this level of happiness," he admitted. "I still can't wrap my head around the fact that you chose me."

His humility and sweet words were making it hard for her to keep her tears at bay. "Well, I did choose you. And I would do it again."

Of that, she was certain, although she didn't know how she was. Only that it felt right. And right now, that was enough. She was going to trust her instincts.

"When do you want to have the bonding?" he asked, nuzzling her cheek. "Please don't make me wait long."

The Bonding. Truthfully, she'd not thought that far ahead. Hedging, she said, "You've not reached your majority yet. We need to wait at least until then….don't you think?"

He sighed. "I suppose."

Then he kissed her again, deepening the kiss until she felt she would swoon. Feelings she'd never experienced were running through her, causing her to shudder in delight.

"Draco," she moaned, helpless in the onslaught of her own emotions.

"Say it," he implored. "Please, Hermione."

She knew what he was asking. Those three little words she'd not yet uttered. But could she? And would it be the truth?

I could try. He deserves that much.

Parting her lips, she was just about to speak when the door flew open to show Blaise and Narcissa standing there, both with ridiculous grins on their faces.

"Oh, my darlings," Narcissa gushed, rushing in to give them both a hug. "Forgive my lack of decorum," she said as an afterthought. "And also for my attitude this morning," she added, looking directly at her son. "I just hadn't realized how serious…well, no matter. I am so very happy for you both."

Hermione hugged her back, leaving a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you."

"For what, dear?"

"For him. For Draco….for not minding the life I've bound him to."

Narcissa didn't have a chance to reply, for Blaise came next, refusing to wait any longer.

"Your Majesty," he said, joy radiating from him to such an extent his magic was actually sparkling. "I've never seen him happier." Quietly, he whispered, "Thank you, 'Mione." Turning, he clapped Draco on the back. "Congratulations, brother. Or, your Majesty, if you prefer. I guess I'm going to have to say that from now on."

Draco laughed, a real, honest to goodness laugh that brought smiles to all who heard it. "And don't you be forgetting it." He added in a soft tone of affection, "I owe you big."

"Why?"

"You know why. I wouldn't be having all this now if it weren't for you."

"What? I didn't do anything."

"Of course, you didn't," he winked, not buying one word of Blaise's denial. "You had to have talked to Hermione, even though I distinctly recall telling you not to. This is the one time I'm glad you ignored me."

Blaise didn't correct him; he knew the ones he'd talked to had been the professors, but he didn't think he should mention that now. Although he couldn't help but grin thinking about what their reactions would be when they heard the news.

A couple of minutes later, a soft knock could be heard against the door facing. Francesca Zabini nodded to the guard now standing beside it. Remembering her from her last visit to the castle, he looked to the queen who nodded.

She sauntered in, smiling like a Cheshire cat. "It would seem multiple congratulations are in order, your Majesties."

Of course, they had to start all over again, with hugs and kisses and good wishes. Narcissa said something about now having to plan a bonding, but Francesca was the one to tell her that a midsummer ceremony would be best. She gazed at Hermione as she did so, letting the queen know without words that she knew the state of her heart.
A new round of laughter and good-natured teasing ensued when Blaise tried to take the mickey out of Draco by saying he'd heard the spurned suitors would be appealing the Queen's decision, but it was for naught. Draco was too drunk on love at the moment to let anything burst his bubble. For a short time, all joined him in his light-heartedness.

Then it happened.

Francesca was the first to feel it. A pull; not hard enough to be a yank, but more like a sliding feeling. Not upwards, but down. Something was trying to draw her soul into a shadowy gloom. But rather than depressing her, it made her angry. She knew what was coming…or rather who; the selfish spoilsport.
Amid the jubilation, Lucius Malfoy appeared. He seemed out of breath, as if he'd been searching for them for a while. He tried to push aside the guard, but was quickly stopped.

"Let me by, you fool!"

Undeterred, the guard immediately cast a body bind curse on him. Narcissa frowned, while Draco's features hardened, anger returning to them.

The guard turned to Hermione. "Ma'am, shall I take him away?"

She hesitated, tempted by the idea.

"If you refuse him now, he'll just be worse later," Blaise's mother pointed out.

"I suppose that's true." Sighing, she nodded to the guard. "Release him."

The man did so, but still kept his wand trained on the irate wizard. Angrily straightening his robes, Lucius entered the room, glaring at all there.

"I suppose it would have been too much to ask that the father of the selected consort be included in the discussion prior to announcing it to the world?"

Immediate silence descended the room like a heaviness before a storm. The aura of the elder Malfoy was malevolent, sucking all the good will and cheer from the air. Everyone felt it.

It was a dark, menacing presence.

But then a wave of…something pushed back against it. Something infinitely stronger, making the evil tuck its tail and retreat. Hermione had raised her palm, pointing it outward while at the same time surrounding her loved ones with a flaming shield that no one could see save her and Draco.

"There was no discussion, Lord Malfoy," she intoned, her voice quiet, but still causing tremors in the air. "It was a choice. My choice."

"But your Highness…."

'Her Majesty, you mean." This came from Narcissa who was facing her husband bravely.

His lips pursed in disapproval. Looking daggers at his wife, he sneered, "Ah, yes…my darling Narcissa. I've missed you so. Now that the coronation is over, I expect you to return home. We have much to catch up on. I shall await you this evening."

Draco stiffened. "No," he uttered in a barely audible tone, yet Hermione heard him. She wanted to comfort him, then thought of something better.

"Oh, dear. I'm afraid that's just not possible, my Lord," she said nonchalantly. She wanted to laugh; it was quite enjoyable disrupting the death eater's attempts to terrorize. One of the perks of royalty, she guessed.

His face was a study. "Ma'am, my family is my own. I have a right to be with them."

"They are your family, yes. But they have their own autonomy as well. Your wife has graciously accepted the appointment to be my lady in waiting. It was the express wish of both mine and my consort that we have her close by." It was a bald-face lie, but Draco and Narcissa were both smart enough not to show it on their faces.

"But they belong to ME!" he shouted, no longer able to contain his mask of gentility.

She totally ignored his outburst, which made him even madder, but she didn't care. Hermione now had the power to stop him, and she intended to use it.

"May I remind you that they are MY subjects, as are you. What's more, I think you know better than most the binding power of a royal appointment," she said loftily, trumping his hand. "Now, if you will excuse us, we have guests to greet." Giving him a final look of challenge, she said, "I have treated you civilly this time, Lord Malfoy, for your family's sake. But if you ever speak to me like this again, I will have the guards on you. This is your only warning." Hermione then motioned to the guard to escort him out.

Lucius, not having been used to being dismissed in such a fashion, was shocked. He watched as his wife and son left with the Queen. How had they so easily achieved what had eluded his grasp? That uppity little witch never gave him the chance to charm her. But why?

I'm still superior in looks and magical ability, even against the youth and vitality of my son. So why did she choose Draco? He huffed. And all that talk about her intelligence….her reputed brilliance must not be too bright to choose something lesser.
There was something strange about it all…..perhaps she'd been brainwashed. Perhaps someone had gotten to her before he could. Someone who would have no love for him…someone who would have fed her lies….like Dumbledore or…..Harry Potter. The Dark Lord should have killed Potter when he had the chance. I can guarantee I won't be making that mistake. As soon as I can, I'll…
His eyes trailed over to the hallway where young Zabini and his mother were standing. She was watching him with a knowing expression on her face. Lucius swallowed. That witch….she was unnatural. She knew too much.
She's looking at me as if she could read my mind. But I know for a fact she's not a Legilimens; besides, I would be able to feel it if she tried to invade my thoughts.
Still, she had a power he didn't understand and didn't like.

Perhaps she'd been another one who'd had her finger in the pie.

In his twisted heart, he'd planned for a future where the queen would marry one of those spineless lapdogs from another country while carrying on with him. She was, after all, rather pretty. He could have improved her, just as he had Narcissa, who had been a bit of a tomboy in her youth.
He certainly could have attended to her needs better than his son, who although a Malfoy, was still a clumsy, inexperienced youth.
It would have been a pleasant future for all. Her vanity would have been appeased; she still would have been queen in name. Lucius would have been her right hand man. The Dark Lord would have achieved his goals.

There could have finally been peace.

That future was impossible now, and that infuriated him. He hated having his plans derailed.
Because that meant now he would have to make new ones.

A/N: Oh, Lucius. He's evil. And mad. He's the one who thinks he's God's gift to women, even more than Cormac. He's my version of Jafar from Aladdin. Remember when the genie called Jafar "Señor Psychopath"? Well, that's what I call Lucius when I'm writing him.

On the subject of Ron: I wanted to give a little background to Ron's attitude and garner him some compassion to have on hand for future chapters.

I love Pansy with Harry. I love Luna with Harry, too, but the latter was not possible in this story, so Pansy's the one who's up to bat.

Lastly, my FF writing may be a bit thin on the ground until after the holidays. The reason for that is that I'm writing original stories to give as Christmas presents. I've been doing that for a while now. Before I ever started writing fanfiction, I was writing children's stories. It's my first love. And with five grandchildren, I have to stay on my toes to get their stories written in time. But after New Years, things should settle back down. When I see you next, we'll continue the reception.

Expect a few fireworks from Ron and perhaps a couple of other surprises. See you then!