Chap 9: Tilting At Windmills
3 months after the Battle of Hogwarts…
Ron walked into the small kitchen of the Burrow, where his younger sister, Ginny, was busy making dinner with their mother, Molly. He grabbed a biscuit fresh from the oven, tossing it back and forth between his hands, trying to cool it off.
"Oi! Those are for our guests!" Ginny reprimanded him, smacking his hand away as he grabbed for a sausage.
"Cut it out, Ginevra!" He moved to hit her back when she dodged around him, her elbow connecting with his back.
"Oaf!" he groaned, whirling around, with his hip colliding into a tray full of the flaky pastries his mother had just pulled from the pantry. They toppled over to the ground with a loud clang.
"That's enough!" yelled Mrs. Weasley. She threw her hands up in exasperation. "You two - OUT! Now!"
"He started it," Ginny whined.
"And I'm finishing it," Molly replied. "Really, Ronald…" She snatched the half eaten biscuit from his hand, "These are for our guests!"
"At this point, Mum, I doubt we should consider Harry a guest…" he mumbled, grabbing the biscuit and stuffing the remainder in his mouth.
"Well George is bringing Angelina and then there's…"
"Hello, Ron."
Ron froze, his mouth so full of bread that it was impossible for him to speak at all. He turned around and his gaze fell on one of the loveliest sights he had seen in a long while.
Hermione Granger stood in the entrance to the kitchen, looking a little tired and perhaps still a bit too thin, with dark circles under her eyes. She was dressed in an oversized jumper and jeans, with her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and her beaded bag slung over her shoulder. Ron reckoned she had never looked more beautiful than she did in that moment.
He swallowed and then had to chew and swallow again, just to get the biscuit down his throat. "'Mione… you're back…" he was finally able to say. He took a step towards her but she immediately shrank back, her arms folding over her chest almost as if to protect herself.
Ginny shoved by him, knocking her shoulder into his. "She's here because I asked her…" Ginny supplied, throwing him a disgusted look before she surprised the witch with a tight hug.
Hermione cringed and immediately pulled away from her friend. "S-sorry, Gin, just…" She shook her head as words suddenly failed her.
"Oh, give her some space. She's had a long trip." Molly dusted her hands on her apron as she came to Herimone and also tried to hug her. Again, Ron noted how she kept her space, her hands coming up and ending the contact almost immediately.
Molly didn't seem to notice, drawing back from the young woman, "You look haggard, you poor thing."
"How was Australia?" Ginny asked.
Immediately, Hermione's eyes darkened. She shook her head and turned away as a tear slipped down her cheek. Ron felt the unmistakable tug at his heart. He never liked to see her like this.
"Aww, 'Mione… you'll figure out how to reverse it. They don't call you the brightest witch of our age for nothin'…" he offered.
She looked up at him, her mouth opening to respond but then suddenly she turned away, her arms tightening around herself.
"Ginny, dear, why don't you show Hermione to your room? Maybe she would like to rest before dinner?" Molly tried.
Ginny tangled her hand within Hermione's and started to drag her to the stairs. She glanced back only once and met Ron's worried gaze but quickly looked away, following the youngest Weasley as the girl was animatedly filling her in on all that she missed.
Molly patted her son's shoulder. "Give her time… She'll come around."
Ron could only stare at Hermione's retreating form, uncertainty filling him. No one wanted to say it but the fact remained she hadn't been the same since the war ended. She was withdrawn and quiet, especially with Harry and himself… mostly with himself.
And then she took off to find her parents almost as soon as the smoke had cleared the battlefield, barely writing. And when she did manage to, it was addressed to Ginny or his Mum… a few brief cordial words and an update on her parents. Gone was the easy banter they once all shared … something simply seemed broken inside her, making her feel practically like a stranger.
But she was back, he tried to convince himself. Sure, she looked different and gone were those adoring looks she used to cast his way… but she was back, nonetheless. He could make her happy again… he just knew it. She only needed to put the past behind her… the war… the battle… the loss of their friends… Fred…
But most of all, she needed to forget what happened to her at Malfoy Manor.
He clenched his fist at his side, fury welling inside him as he again heard her screams rent the air as if it was currently happening all over again….just as it did in his nightmares night after night.
She was back… and he would help her to forget… for both their sake.
Hermione stared at her plate, pushing the food around so the others would think she was eating, but Ron knew better. He sat across from her at the table, just watching her. And she was making every effort to not meet his gaze, instead investing all her energy into listening to his father and Harry talk about the upcoming trials.
"You three are all on the witness list to speak at Draco Malfoy's trial, so be prepared for a summons," Arthur Weasley was saying.
Ron snorted his disdain, "They best not call me unless it's to tell them what a right foul git he is. Should throw him into Azkaban with both his father and mother, if you ask me."
"Well nobody asked you, did they?" Hermione snapped, her gaze moving to glare at him.
" 'Mione…" Harry chided.
"Yea, 'Mione, what gives? I thought you, of all people, would agree the Malfoys belong in prison," Ron replied, his hurt at her words evident in his tone.
She snorted her disdain, her eyes suddenly full of contempt. "So I guess it doesn't matter that Draco refused to identify us to those Death Eaters or how he wouldn't summon Voldemort…" She turned sharply to Harry, "And let's not forget how you'd be dead right now, had Narcissa Malfoy not lied for you to the Dark Lord himself!"
Harry threw up his arms in defense, "I'm not arguing with you!"
She returned looking at Ron, "If not for The Malfoys, we could all be dead right now."
Ron's hurt suddenly turned to anger. "You almost did die, Hermione, or have you forgotten what Draco's lovely Aunt did to you?!"
Hermione reared back, her left arm immediately leaving the table to hide in her lap. "I have not forgotten what happened to me… but Malfoy had nothing to do with the demented acts of Bellatrix."
Ron slouched in his chair then, his arms folding over his chest as he huffed, "He didn't lift his wand to stop her either…"
"ENOUGH!" bellowed Mrs. Weasley. Everyone turned their attention to the matriarch of the Weasley clan. "I will not have any more talk of the war at my dinner table. Is that understood?"
There was a chorus of murmured yeses, as everyone returned to staring at their plates. Ron glanced up at Hermione. She was red with embarrassment… or perhaps it was with anger. He honestly couldn't tell.
"So, George, how's business at the Joke Shop?" Ginny made an effort to change the subject.
But before George could answer, Hermione abruptly stood. "If you will excuse me, I think… I think I need some air." She didn't wait for anyone's response. She maneuvered around her chair and fled the dining room.
Molly met Ron's gaze, "Go after her, Ronald."
"Why me?" he questioned, annoyed with how quickly she had come to the defense of the ferret yet had only hatred for him.
Harry, ever the perfect sodding gentleman, stood now. "I'll go check on her." And he didn't hesitate, following Hermione.
Ron just sat there for the space of several heartbeats, aware of the looks he was getting from the rest of his family. Suddenly, someone's foot collided with his shin and he looked over to see Ginny craning her neck towards the direction Harry and Hermione went. Ron looked down at his plate then sighed heavily before pushing his chair away from the table and also leaving the dining room.
He went into the small kitchen and started to pace. He ran his hands through his hair before sliding over to the sink and nudging open the window. He could hear the voices of his two best friends now, their whispers catching on the wind.
"So he believes that people shouldn't be given second chances and you're okay with that, Harry?" Hermione replied, her voice cracking with tears.
"No… I mean.. maybe…okay..no… no, I don't agree. It's just… it's Malfoy. You know how he feels about him…"
"People make mistakes…" she was pleading, the tears obviously coming faster. "And most just need to be forgiven… We all deserve forgiveness…"
"Oh Hermione… you have to let this go. You did what you thought was best…"
"Did I? Or was I acting out of pure selfishness? I took what I thought was the easy way out and now… now I'm paying for it…" Her words were rushed, her breathing close to hyperventilating.
"No one blames you for what you did. And your parents won't blame you…"
"My parents?" she questioned. "My parents…."
And then there was the faint sounds of a scuffle… rustling in the bushes followed by the sounds of retching. Ron cautiously peered outside. It was dark, but there was just enough light coming from the Burrow for him to make out the forms of Hermione and Harry. She was obviously throwing up in the bushes and Harry was holding her hair back, rubbing soothing circles on her back as he whispered to her. She sat down on the ground then and he sat with her. She leaned her head on his shoulder, whispering something to him but their voices were too low now for Ron to hear what they were saying.
His belly clenched with the all too familiar feeling of jealousy then. But not that he suspected they were having some clandestine relationship… Harry loved Ginny… but they were still close… closer it seemed than he would ever again be to Hermione.
Perhaps he shouldn't have kissed her during the battle… she had been hesitant, to be sure, but still sort of receptive to it…hadn't she?
Was he going completely mental? She couldn't even look at him, let alone have him touch her without cringing…
Something had changed and for the life of him, he didn't know how to even begin to figure out what it was.
It was well after midnight as Ron stood in the doorway of Ginny's room, watching as Hermione twisted and thrashed on the bed, locked in a nightmare. He wasn't sure how the rest of the household hadn't been woken by the noise. Even Ginny was oblivious, softly snoring on her bed over in the corner.
Hermione cried out then, "No! No… please… don't leave me…"
Before he knew what he was doing, Ron was beside her bed. Tears were streaming down her face, soaking the pillow but she was still fast asleep. He lifted his hand towards her, determined to just give her a shake and awaken her but as he stared down at her beautiful face tightened in a grimace of pain, he stopped.
A thought suddenly occurred to him.
Ron swallowed then lifted his wand from the pocket of his robe. "Accio flask," he whispered.
A small vial appeared in his hand. He looked down at Hermione's sleeping form again. She was whispering something over and over, the tears still falling.
He leaned closer.
"I love you… I love you… I'm sorry…" she was chanting, begging some unseen person.
Ron's heart clenched in his chest. He took a deep breath. He lowered the flask, careful not to touch her face with it. He let her tears fall, capturing the glistening drops within the glass.
This was for her own good, he convinced himself. He couldn't fix it if he didn't know…
Present Day:
3 weeks after signing the Marriage Contract…
"So he isn't going to press charges?" Hermione inquired, absently flipping through the clothes on the rack, not really seeing any of them.
"Not according to Harry," Ginny replied, her vision trained on the shirts hanging in front of her, her hand sliding them past her at such an alarmingly fast pace Hermione wondered how she managed to even see if they interested her or not.
Ginny had insisted the two of them go shopping in Diagon Alley on this Saturday afternoon, citing their equally busy schedules as the reason they hadn't been spending much time together. It was partly true, what with the start of term at Hogwarts and all the craziness the Ministry had been throwing her way with wedding nonsense, but the simpler answer, she feared, was Ginny, and even Harry, just didn't know what to say to Hermione now.
Between the Ron debacle at the Manor and the fact that she was still going through with this marriage to their old arch nemesis, it almost felt like if the Potters weren't constantly questioning her life choices, what else was there left to talk about? And without anything left to say, would this be the end of their seemingly unbreakable friendship? These were the questions that had been plaguing Hermione, keeping her up at night. These and so many more…
So when Ginny had owled yesterday and asked her out, she leapt at the chance. And that was saying a lot, because Hermione frankly loathed clothes shopping. But if it got her out of her apartment for a few hours and away from her thoughts, she could feign interest in the latest fashions. And maybe if she played nice, Ginny would even let her stop in at Flourish and Blotts for a new book… or three… without much of a fight.
"Between you and me," Ginny continued, "I think Harry may have been the one to step in and convince the Ministry not to pursue the case. And, boy, he doesn't want to hear my opinion on the matter, either. We got into a little argument the other night when he tried to convince me to let Ron move in with us." She turned to look at Hermione, hurriedly adding, "Not that I would ever allow that to happen. And he won't be at your birthday dinner on Tuesday. I've already told Mum she has to take him that night."
Hermione smiled, in spite of herself. Until Ginny's next words suddenly wiped if from her face, "Why? What does Malfoy say?"
Hermione bit her lower lip and avoided her best friend's gaze, pretending to be much too occupied with the light grey peasant blouse she was admiring (that for goodness sake, reminded her of a certain somebody's eyes). "Oh! You know… we…uh… we haven't actually spoken much in the last few weeks…"
Ginny furrowed her brow, "You haven't spoken…much?"
"Yeah… or more like not at all since we signed the contract…" she mumbled.
"But you two did that interview in The Prophet… with the big announcement of your engagement…"
Hermione sighed, "We met with the reporter separately. I actually haven't physically seen him in three weeks." Now she met Ginny's gaze, sighing, "Is that normal, do you think?"
Ginny rolled her eyes, "You're marrying Malfoy, Hermione… 'normal' left this conversation a month ago…"
Hermione mustered a smile but it didn't quite reach her eyes, which didn't go unnoticed by Ginny. With one hand on her growing tummy, the petite redhead waddled over to her side and laid a comforting hand on Hermione's forearm, "I'm sure he's just working through everything… you know, in his normal, dickish way."
"Not helping, Ginny," she replied.
"Sorry. But it's Malfoy, Hermione…" she whined then stopped when she saw how it made her friend cringe.
She sighed, "Okay, I'll admit, this is taking some getting used to... We can't all be like you, Hermione, just so accepting of the Ministry's matchmaking…" Again, she paused, "But I will make every effort to try to be cordial to the ferret… but, I make no promises I won't tease him mercilessly every chance I get."
That earned a half-hearted smile from her closest friend. And then suddenly, Hermione was hugging Ginny.
Ginny patted her on the back before pulling slightly away to look at her closely, "Have you tried owling him?"
Sadness shadowed her features for a moment. "And say what exactly? Hi, remember me, your Mudblood fiancé?" Hermione groaned. "I'm supposed to go meet with his mother for tea tomorrow afternoon to discuss the wedding. Perhaps I'll see him then."
"When is the date again?"
"October 28th. And don't even think about backing out.. you and Harry are the only family I have and I need you there, whether you agree with my choice or not."
Ginny took a step back, "Hermione, we would never miss your wedding. If you told me you were eloping with the ferret tomorrow on the shores of Brazil, I would still be by your side. It's just so soon…"
Hermione shrugged, "I don't see why we should wait. We've settled everything… no sense in postponing the inevitable…"
Ginny scrunched up her face, "You make it sound so clinical. What about your dress? The flowers? The guest list? My dress, for crying out loud?!"
Hermione waved her off, "I'm letting Narcissa plan everything. Obviously Draco doesn't seem too invested in the details so why should I?" She turned away from Ginny then, afraid if she looked her in the face, she'd be able to see her obvious hurt.
Ginny grabbed her friend by the shoulder and turned her to face her, "Because it's your wedding… and you've probably been planning it since you were five."
A tear trickled down her cheek, "Since I was three… but what does it matter, my own parents won't even be there…" And the groom doesn't even have two minutes to spare to just be with me…
"Awww…. Hermione…" Ginny grabbed her and pulled her in for another tight hug. "If it's any consolation, men are complete rubbish with wedding planning. Harry had absolutely the worst taste in music and flower arrangements, I finally just had to fire him so Mum and I could finish it all."
Hermione giggled through her tears. She pulled back and tried to wipe at the tears, aware they were starting to get strange looks from the other customers in the clothing shop.
The last thing she needed was for the headline in tomorrow's Prophet to read, Golden Girl Granger Weeps Over Wedding to Slytherin Heir.
"At least you had your mum, Ginny. I only have Mrs. Malfoy…"
"How is Malfoy's mother? Is she completely awful?"
Hermione shook her head, "No, she's actually very sweet… at least I think she is. My only interaction with her was in front of Shacklebolt, so maybe it's all an act… but I don't think so. I hope not, anyway."
"If you want, I can go with you tomorrow and help with everything…" Ginny offered. "I make a good buffer. No one likes to anger a pregnant woman… especially one with a fiery Weasley temper."
"No, Ginny. It's fine." She met Ginny's incredulous look, taking her hand and patting it, "Truly."
"Well, if you change your mind… I'm here for you, Hermione. Never second guess that."
"Thank you," she replied. And Hermione meant it. It suddenly felt like a weight had been lifted just knowing that she still had Ginny's support in all this.
"Even if it means I have to sit there and watch you snogging the ferret … which if I am to believe Harry, was quite a show," Ginny answered.
Hermione started to turn a deep shade of red, "Harry told you about… oh for Godric's sake!" She buried her head in her hands.
Ginny giggled, "Said it took all his willpower to not punch Malfoy in the face…" She then gave her a devilish smirk, "...but that you seemed to be rather enjoying yourself…"
"Snogging Draco Malfoy? Well there's a conversation I simply must take part in…" a silky voice replied from behind the two women.
Ginny and Hermione whirled around to come face to face with none other than Pansy Parkinson. The tall, formerly pug-faced girl was dressed to perfection in an elegant green silk blouse and black leather pencil skirt. She had these beautiful black stiletto heels with small silver snakes slithering up the heel to wrap around her petite ankles and silver snake earrings to match. And her makeup was flawless, with bright red lips and smokey eyes; her long dark brown hair hanging perfectly straight and loose down her back. She was definitely dressed the part of the Slytherin princess…
All that was missing was her prince… Hermione thought warily.
Hermione immediately took a step back, crossing her arms over her plain blue and white striped jumper, as if that would shield her from the woman's assessing gaze.
Pansy gave her the once-over, from the jumper to her most comfortable pair of jeans with the ripped knees to her simple white trainers. She brought her perfectly manicured fingers to her chin, tapping with one blood red nail against her bottom lip while she considered her.
"Parkinson," Ginny spat out, never one to hide her dislike for their former classmate.
"Hello fellow witches," she purred, turning to give Ginny a cat-like grin. But it was only for a moment and then she returned her lingering gaze to Hermione again, making her suddenly feel slightly uncomfortable.
Pansy shifted, her hands resting on her hips, "Well, Granger, I hear congratulations are in order. You finally caught your white whale…" She gave her a wink then, "The book reference I threw in just for you."
Hermione was taken aback, stammering, "Umm… thank you, I think."
Ginny, never the shy one, took a step towards Pansy, "You can drop the act, Parkinson. Malfoy isn't here."
Pansy raised one eyebrow, "As if I would ever pretend to be nice, Weaselette… You know me better than that."
"Then what gives? I thought you, of all people, would be spitting nails at the news. Weren't you and Malfoy like a thing all through school?"
"Ginny," Hermione warned her friend. She glanced over at Pansy who was giving her this knowing smile that suddenly made the hairs on her arms rise.
"Relax, Weaselette, I may have been his date to the Yule Ball…" Again she looked at Hermione, adding, "And, yes, we did snog once or twice at the beginning of 4th year, but Draco has always had eyes for only one witch… Isn't that right, Granger?"
Ginny gave her a questioning look, "What is she talking about?"
Hermione just shrugged, swallowing down the bile that was rising in her throat. Did Pansy know? Had Draco shared his feelings with her all those years ago?
Pansy's mouth dropped open in surprise then she laughed, "You mean he hasn't told you?! Well, far be it for me to ruin that conversation."
"Oh I don't believe you," Ginny snorted. "You're a Slytherin, which makes you a very good liar, Parkinson…"
Pansy clucked her tongue, "Me-ow, Weaselette… Your claws are out today. Perhaps you were too busy getting starry-eyed over Potter to notice, but my boy, Draco, spent much of his time at Hogwarts chasing this Lioness's skirt, no matter where she went…"
"You mean when he wasn't planning the murder of Headmaster Dumbledore, that is…" Ginny replied with disdain.
Both Pansy and Hermione turned to give Ginny equal looks of shock.
Ginny shook her head immediately, "S-sorry. That was uncalled for." She laid her hand on her tummy, "Blame it on the pregnancy hormones."
A twinkle danced in Pansy's eyes, "You slag! And here I thought you were just fat from the last baby. Potter must be very good in bed!"
Hermione instinctively stepped back as Ginny's mouth dropped open. "I had James over three years ago!"
Pansy shrugged, "You were wise not to wait. Keeps the Ministry off your backs about all this 'procreation for the good of the community' nonsense."
Hermione covered her mouth to suppress her smile. If there was one way to get under Ginny's skin, it was to mention her weight gain. She almost felt bad for Pansy… almost.
Pansy turned and looked at her, a clear smirk on her face, "I wouldn't laugh too hard there, Granger. Soon you'll be round with the Malfoy heir… That is, if you aren't already." She gave Hermione a wink.
"Hey!" Hermione exclaimed, quickly looking down at herself. Yes, her jumper was a little big but not enough to hide a baby bump. Ginny just snickered, which earned her a smack against her arm.
"Ouch! Oh, come off it, Hermione, even I'm kinda surprised your knickers aren't already balled up on Malfoy's bedroom floor. I mean, it has been a while… and he's always been a decent looking bloke…"
"Ginny!"
Pansy roared with laughter. "Well, maybe it has something to do with the way you're dressed, Granger. And that is definitely something I can help with." She took a step back, cocking her head to the side, studying Hermione with a quizzical eye. "Size 6, I'd wager." She turned to the racks, randomly grabbing blouses, skirts and pants.
"Ummm… I really don't know what my clothes have to do with anything. I rather like being comfortable," Hermione tried.
Pansy whirled around to face her, thrusting the collection of outfits into Hermione's empty hands. "Oh Granger, you may be book smart but I know clothes… and men, for that matter. Trust me."
"Trust a snake…not bloody likely," Ginny replied.
"Watch your tongue, Weaselette… your best friend here is about to marry one of those snakes, which practically makes us family." Pansy wrapped her arm around Ginny's shoulders and squeezed. Ginny cringed and rolled her eyes. Pansy laughed maniacally then proceeded to flip through the racks of lingerie.
"How long is 'a while', Granger?" Pansy queried.
"What?" Hermione juggled the several pieces of clothing in her arms, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed.
Pansy crooked an eyebrow, "Potter's wife said it had been 'a while' since… you know… Just exactly how long has it been?"
"I don't see how that's any of your concern!" Hermione huffed.
Pansy smirked, "Oh, that long, huh?" She turned back to the racks, grabbing lacy undergarments in a variety of colors. She thrust them into Hermione's arms, adding a corset ensemble in a deep shade of green to the top of the pile. "For the wedding night…" she purred. She grabbed her by the arm and dragged her over to the fitting rooms, Ginny following close behind.
"Do you work here?" Ginny asked.
Again that laugh, "I own this place, dear." She practically shoved Hermione towards one of the empty rooms but Hermione froze and turned to face the other two women.
"Everyone just stop. I don't need a new wardrobe and I certainly do not need either of you commenting on when it was the last time I had sex."
Pansy rolled her eyes, "Do not be so dramatic. No one is trying to change you, Granger. You'll always be that swotty little know-it-all with the bushy hair who will one day save us all from ourselves." She approached her, gently bringing her hands to her shoulders and turning her to face a nearby mirror. "Clothes make you feel confident. And a confident witch… especially a smart, confident witch… well, that is a force to be reckoned with."
Hermione studied her reflection. She was brave… and smart… no doubt about it. But confident? Especially around the Slytherin prince himself?
"Look," Pansy continued, "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but Draco likes attention… like every other red-blooded man. If he thinks you're dressing a little sexier for him… well, it will intrigue him. If he thinks you're doing it for yourself though, you'll practically have him eating out of your hand. A little jealousy never hurt any relationship."
Hermione met the other woman's eyes in the reflection of the mirror, "Why are you helping me? Aren't we supposed to be naturally sworn enemies?"
Pansy's smile faltered. She looked down at her nails, pretending to be preoccupied with a speck of imaginary lint. "School's over, Granger." She then looked up and their eyes met, "As is the war." She shook her head, smiling once again, "And you're marrying one of my best friends."
Pansy brought her hands to Hermione's hair then, pulling it back before casually sweeping it across her shoulder. "He smiled, you know…"
"What do you mean?" she asked.
Pansy bit her lip then shrugged, "When he opened his letter from the Ministry… he smiled when he saw your name." She swallowed, "I haven't seen him smile since before Sixth Year. You're good for him." She cleared her throat then stepped away. "Far sight better than Astoria Greengrass, for sure." She shrugged again, "But what do I know….?"
Hermione sighed, resigning herself to her fate, "Alright, let's do this." Pansy happily clapped her hands. Hermione grabbed the green corset set, "But this is not happening."
"Spoil sport," Pansy pouted.
"Oh, you have no idea," Ginny interjected.
"Hey! Standing right here!" Hermione exclaimed.
"You, dressing room," Pansy ordered. "Weaselette, let's go find you something. I'll have you pregnant with a third child before this one is even born."
"Oh sweet Merlin…" Ginny mumbled, as Pansy dragged her away.
Hermione stood there for a moment, perhaps a bit in awe that she was here, being coerced by Pansy Parkinson into buying new clothes. Is this my life now? she wondered. Would it be so bad if it was?
He smiled…
Her heart fluttered at the words and a quickening of an all too familiar feeling began deep in her abdomen. It really had been 'a while'... eight years, to be exact. She eyed the green lingerie she had tossed aside. She picked it up and admired it.
Well, hell, if you can't beat them, join them.
And she entered the dressing room.
"Sorry, Granger, your money's no good here," Pansy replied, sorting through the clothing pile. One brow rose when her gaze landed on the green lingerie, but she wisely chose not to draw attention to it.
"I'm not taking these things for free, Parkinson."
The woman smiled, "Certainly not. Your fiancé will be billed accordingly." She leaned towards Hermione, lowering her voice, "Draco has already had accounts set up for you at all the shops in Diagon Alley."
"Well, in that case, the ferret can pay for my things too," Ginny replied.
"No, absolutely not," Hermione put her foot down. "I can pay for my own things."
Pansy sighed, "There you go with the dramatics again, Granger. Stop acting like he's encroaching on your woman's rights or whatever. Let the man spoil you. It's only fair after all the hell he put you through in school."
"Wow, I actually think I agree with the snake on this one," Ginny said.
Hermione opened her mouth to protest but then quickly closed it. Draco had his pride, of that she was most certain. And knowing she willfully ignored his generosity just might send the wrong message. But she hated feeling like she was using him for his money. It somehow felt dirty to just charge her purchases to him, especially without saying something to him first.
Fuck, this was going to drive her insane… and they weren't even married yet.
She caved. "Fine. Just this once." She grabbed Ginny's items, "But these I am paying for…"
"Oh Hermione…" Ginny started.
But she just shook her head no, a sure sign she would broker no argument. Hermione sighed, watching as Pansy folded all her new purchases. Then an idea started to form in her mind.
"So we were thinking of grabbing some lunch, Pansy… if you'd like to join us."
Pansy froze, a look of bewilderment crossing her features before she hid it behind her casual, sly smile. "A snake in the lion's den…fascinating…"
Ginny rolled her eyes, "Just say yes, Parkinson."
She laughed. "Apparently I have no choice. What's next? You asking me to be a bridesmaid?"
"Yea, not happening," Ginny responded.
Hermione shrugged, "It's just lunch. I mean, you said it, we're practically family."
Pansy eyed the two women carefully then gave a brief nod. "Let me have Marigold finish this and I'll go grab my purse."
"We'll meet you outside," Hermione agreed.
Hermione and Ginny left the store, stepping out into the brisk, afternoon air.
"Is it wrong that I'm starting to actually like her?" Ginny asked.
Hermione shook her head, "People can change, Ginny."
Ginny laid a comforting hand on her arm, "He'll come around." She then laughed, "Besides, you heard Parkinson… he smiled… no matter how cheesy yet sinister that may sound."
"Oh shut it," Hermione replied, playfully slapping Ginny's arm. Then both women burst into giggles. Though she loathed to admit it, this had been the most fun Hermione has had in weeks.
"Excuse me, are you Hermione Granger?" inquired a deep, male voice from behind the ladies.
Both turned to see a middle aged man standing a little too close for comfort. He wore a large overcoat and a hat pulled tightly around his face.
"Who's asking?" Ginny butted in.
The man pulled out a copy of the recent edition of The Prophet… the exact one that featured the announcement of her engagement to Draco. "I would love it if I could have your autograph…" he replied. He took a step forward.
Hermione instinctively stepped back. "S-sorry… I don't think so…"
He took another step towards her, thrusting the paper and a pen forward. "Awww, it's for my little girl. She just admires you so."
Hermione again stepped back and Ginny came between them. "She said no."
He tried to move around Ginny, "Please… it would mean so much to her…"
Hermione backed up into a post, her back colliding with the metal. The man pushed the paper into her face now. Suddenly she felt very trapped.
A hand with bright red nails snatched the paper from the older man. Pansy stepped between Hermione and the interloper. "Oooo… you can have my autograph."
The man's face scrunched up in disgust, "And you are?"
Pansy feigned like she was wounded by his words, "Who am I? How dare you? I am Pansy Parkinson, the one who tried to willingly hand over The Chosen One to Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts."
The man reared back, giving both Hermione and Ginny a look of pure hatred, "You are cavorting with snakes?!"
"Perhaps you should try reading that article you're brandishing. I'm actually marrying one of those snakes. They make the best company," Hermione replied.
He grabbed his paper from Pansy, "You lot with your ideals and inter-house unity shite… Mark my words, you'll come to regret it." He then turned and stormed off down the street.
"Well, that was just strange…" Pansy remarked.
"You have no idea," Ginny responded.
"You okay, Granger?"
Hermione was suddenly shaking, "I…uh…. Yes…" Ginny came to her side and started to rub soothing circles on her lower back.
"I'm missing something…" Pansy noted.
"Hermione kinda had a bit of a run-in with a stalker, after the war."
"Stalker? Like a crazed fan?"
"Something like that," Hermione murmured.
"They never caught him," said Ginny.
"Does Draco know?" Pansy asked.
Hermione shook her head, "No one really does, save Harry and Ginny. The Ministry kept it out of the papers. It's why I try to keep such a low profile now."
Pansy looked thoughtful for a moment then replied, "Well, make sure you tell him. Don't let him find out something like this from someone else. He won't take kindly to it."
Hermione's stomach knotted at Pansy's words. She gave the witch a brief nod.
"Come on, let's get you something to eat and maybe a glass of wine for those nerves." Pansy put her arms around Hermione's shoulders, "You're with friends now."
"Is that what we are… friends?" Hermione smiled.
"Well, you're about to ask me to be one of your bridesmaids and I'm about to agree so… yes, we're friends."
Ginny cocked a brow, "Seems like the snake has earned it."
"See? Even the Weaselette agrees."
"I can't believe I'm about to say this – Pansy Parkinson, would you do me the honor of being one of my bridesmaids?"
"On one condition, Granger."
"And what's that?" she questioned.
"You set me up with Neville Longbottom."
"What!?" both Ginny and Hermione exclaimed.
"Oh yes… I think he's so delectable in his jumpers and corduroy trousers…" Pansy practically growled.
"Oh ew!" Ginny cringed.
"I think he's dating Hannah Abbott," Hermione replied.
"No, they broke up. He's very single," Ginny said.
"Single… taken… married… Doesn't faze me. I'm not picky." Pansy licked her lips and gave the girls a wink.
"Well, I guess I'll mention it to him…" Hermione paused for a moment then added, "You do know he kills snakes, right?"
"He killed one snake… and the bitch had it coming."
Both Ginny and Hermione burst out laughing.
"Yep, it's official, I like Pansy Parkinson," Ginny announced.
Pansy's smile turned sly, "Aw, Weaselette… I don't normally swing that way, but for you, I'll make an exception…. If Potter gets to watch."
Ginny gagged, "And I hate you again…"
"Then all is right in the world…" Pansy laughed, linking her arm with that of Ginny's. "Let's go eat. You can regale me with tales of Longbottom and maybe I'll let a secret or two slip about the Slytherin boys."
"Like Blaise Zabini?" Ginny asked, suddenly very excited.
"Ugh, Blaise. Why do you Gryffindors like Blaise so much…?"
Pansy and Ginny walked ahead, talking animatedly while Hermione trailed close behind. She couldn't help but turn back and look for the man that had accosted her, a shiver creeping over her neck. But he was nowhere in sight. She just prayed that was the last she would see of him.
Draco awoke with a start. He had to peel his face free from the parchment he had been studying when he must have dozed off. He pried his reading glasses from his face, which had somehow twisted around his nose, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Then he stood to stretch. It was late… or early… hell, he wasn't even sure what day it actually was. That happened occasionally when he chose to lock himself in the Manor's dungeons and work on his potions.
He moved to the supply closet, grabbing yet another cauldron to begin a third potion, a batch of Draught of Peace. Demand for the calming liquid had been high ever since the conclusion of the war, and even his own personal supply of the stuff was running a bit low.
He slammed the cauldron down on the tabletop and snapped his fingers, the fire beneath it lighting automatically. He returned to his ingredient cabinet, procuring moonstone, porcupine quills and unicorn horn. He returned to his workstation, took a sip of the thick brown sludge the Muggles called coffee, cringing at the cold and bitter taste, and began to meticulously grind the ingredients he needed into fine powder.
Soon he was lost in his task, his brain systematically shutting down at the mundane activity. This is why he liked to come down here. He didn't have to think and he, sure as hell, didn't have to remember. It was easy and instinctual. And it was the one thing he was good at.
A hissing sound gave him pause and he suddenly remembered his other two potions he had started before his unplanned nap. He hurried over to the second cauldron, giving the bubbling greenish-blue concoction two counter-clockwise stirs of the spoon. It calmed the liquid and he was certain his momentary lapse hadn't completely ruined the Wolfsbane potion. The full moon was fast approaching and he had several discreet clients in desperate need of it. He watched it for a moment, satisfied it was still usable, and now turned his attention to the first cauldron.
He approached it with caution, noticing the pink liquid was at a fine simmer… perfect and almost ready, by the looks of it. The gentle smell wafted upwards. He hurriedly turned away but it was futile. His nose caught the distinctive scent…
Green apple tarts…
The crisp pages of old books…
Roses…
Or, more precisely, the rose and vanilla scented shampoo she still seemed to favor after all these years.
Fucking Amortentia.
He backed away from the table, instinctively placing as much space as he could between the love potion and himself. He rested against his workstation and closed his eyes, desperately trying to ward off the barrage of lustful thoughts that had been burning at the edges of his mind for the last three weeks.
Her warm body beneath his… the way she mewled and writhed as she came apart on his tongue… her wild curls spread against his pillows, so deceptively soft he could literally spend hours simply running his long fingers through it…
Hermione fucking Granger…
The things he wanted to do to her… Merlin, he could never be accused of having a lack of imagination.
He slid his hand down his face, realizing he had about a week's worth of a beard now, and tried in vain to wipe her from his mind. He opened his eyes and his vision immediately fell on the small bottle of clear liquid, almost mocking him from its place across the room in his open cabinet.
Felix Felicis. Liquid Luck. Almost impossible to brew… unless, of course, you have eight long years to get it just right.
"He...he's poisoned you...with a love potion...and...and he's rigged the results…"
Draco cringed at Weasley's words and his stomach roiled. It wasn't exactly the truth. How was he supposed to know the Ministry would match him with Granger? It wasn't like he had knowingly plotted to have her specifically chosen for him when he agreed to participate in the inane Initiative. He had hoped… but he hoped for many things that never came to fruition.
So maybe he took a few sips of the potion right before the battery of tests and interviews… but it was more to insure he didn't completely fuck it all up, not to sway the actual results…
At least that's what he tried to convince himself of...
He sighed, shoved away from the table and crossed the room to the cabinet, slamming the door shut with a loud thud. If he didn't see it, he didn't have to think about it.
A loud pop sounded behind him and Draco turned to see his house elf, Flinty, looking dapper as usual in his midnight blue wizarding robes. "Master Draco," came Flinty's small voice, the elf giving a slight bow.
A small smile tugged at Draco's lips. Flinty had been with the Malfoys for as long as Draco could remember, a loyal elf who now served as more of a personal assistant to his mother ever since he was freed after the war. He helped to manage the estate and employed several other freed house elves to work around the Manor… all which Draco paid rather handsomely. But Flinty, along with his sister Sierney, were like family… and when life was at its darkest, they were the only friends he and his mother had.
Draco returned the bow, "Flinty."
"I came to check on you sir; see if perhaps you require anything. We haven't seen or heard from you in quite some time."
Draco cocked a brow, "We?"
Flinty gave him a knowing look, "Your mother is looking for you."
"Ah." Of course… He sighed dramatically. "I would like some tea, I think. And you can let my mother know you have now seen me and I am fine."
"Or you could let her know yourself," replied a cool voice from behind Draco.
He cringed inside, giving himself a moment to take a breath before turning to see Narcissa Malfoy standing at the base of the staircase that led into his potions lab. Flinty immediately made a quick exit.
Smart elf...
"Mother," he nodded. He swallowed and moved away from her, returning to his workstation but keeping one watchful eye on his mum.
Narcissa cautiously swept into the lab, her robes swirling around her. She said nothing to Draco, simply walked among the tables, looking in the brewing cauldrons… obviously checking up on him in as discreet a fashion as she could muster. She came to the Amortentia, leaned over it and inhaled then looked over at her son, raising one perfect brow. He said nothing, turning to focus on the unicorn horn before him.
Finally, no longer able to stand the silence, he said, "What brings you to the dungeons, Mother? Here to reprimand me for something, I assume."
"You've been hiding down here for days, Draco...cannot a Mother come visit her son?"
He gave her a look.
"Oh all right... Professor Slughorn owled again. He really is considering retirement and he's pressuring me to have you apply for the position at Hogwarts."
"No."
"Why ever not? Potions is your passion and you've always been good with children…"
"I already have a profession, Mother," he replied, gesturing around him.
"Illegally brewing love potions in our basement for unsavory individuals is hardly a profession, dear," Narcissa snapped.
He snorted. "Yes, well, I sincerely doubt Headmistress McGonagall is going to allow a former Death Eater to come and teach at her school," he replied matter-of-factly.
"You were acquitted of all those charges…" She paused then gently said, "Perhaps if Potter or Ms. Granger were to talk with her…"
"Absolutely not."
"Why? I mean, it will benefit Ms. Granger…"
"No, Mother. And that's final." He glared at her for the space of several heartbeats before returning to his work.
"She's already done enough for this family by simply agreeing to marry me," he added, his voice low.
"You're still quite a catch, Draco," Narcissa reiterated.
"Not for her." He looked over at his mum now, "If that's all, I have work to do."
She hesitated then replied, "Actually, I thought you'd be interested to know Ms. Granger will be here tomorrow afternoon for tea and to finalize wedding details… in case you wish to make an appearance..."
He snorted his disdain, "I'll pass."
He didn't need to turn towards his mother to know she was giving him a disapproving look.
"Draco…" she started.
He suddenly stood, interrupting her, "Whatever Granger decides is fine with me. I'll only get in the way." He slid around her to stand before the Amortentia. He busied himself pretending to study it, all the while letting the smell of roses and vanilla surround him, again triggering a fantasy that fogged his mind and made him slightly giddy.
Fuck…
A thought occurred to him then and he turned to look at Narcissa. "This is Granger's wedding, Mother... do not push pureblood traditions off on her. Whatever she wants, she gets..."
Narcissa gave him a feigned look of mortification, "How could you even suggest such a thing, Draco?" She paused, "But it's your wedding, too. And it may do everyone some good if you at least pretended to care…"
"I care. I've noted the date. October 28th. I'll be the one in the expensive tailored robes standing at the end of the aisle. You won't be able to miss me."
He moved away from her then, returning to take a seat at his workstation, giving her his back.
Narcissa sighed, "Have you spoken at all to Ms. Granger? Perhaps you could owl her and invite her to dinner."
"You're meddling, Mother."
"Seems I have to meddle, Draco. Ms. Granger is a certain type of woman... she must be wooed, not ignored."
He chuckled darkly, "Yes, I'm aware of what sort of woman she is… I did spend most of my adolescence bullying her, you know."
"A fact she seems all too willing to forgive…"
"But never forget…" he added. He pulled absently at the left sleeve of his shirt, "She'll never be able to forget."
"I think you're wrong. Perhaps if you told her how you feel…"
He snickered, "Oh, and how exactly do I feel, Mother?"
She reached out and laid her hand over his to stop him from fidgeting with his sleeve, "You weren't alone in that parlor, Draco. I was there, too." She brought her free hand to caress his forehead, pushing a lock of hair away from his face, continuing, "Bella didn't notice. Your father was blind to it. But I saw." He turned his face to look up at her, his eyes searching hers. "I saw everything…"
He looked away then. He sighed, "What do you want me to say? I highly doubt you want to hear that I'm one Floo call away from surprising her at her Flat and shagging her senseless."
Narcissa raised an eyebrow, "I saw the way she was looking at you, dear, and I'm certain she wouldn't be opposed to that."
He cracked a smile.
She ran her hand across his face before giving his cheek a pat, "Please, Draco... shower, shave off that abhorrent beard and get a good night's rest. Then tomorrow you come to tea...for me… and for Ms. Granger."
He didn't move. Then he gave a quick nod and rose from the table. But he stopped just short of the stairs leading from the dungeons. "Go on up, Mother. I just need to finish one last thing."
Narcissa nodded, giving him one last reassuring pat on his hand before ascending to the next floor.
Draco watched her leave then waited for several minutes just to be safe. Once he knew she was gone, he turned and walked over to his cabinet. He opened it and reached his hand up, his fingers closing around the small vial of Felix Felicis.
He stared unrelenting at it in his clenched fist for a moment before making up his mind and slipping it into his pocket. He closed the cabinet and murmured a quick locking spell before he sauntered over to the stairs, taking them two at time.
