Chapter Two – Journey
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The next morning, Princess Hermione wakes early. Her slumber was peaceful; the bed sheets warm and comfortable. Her maids slept at the foot of her bed and the servants rose early to prepare her morning fire. After getting dressed, she is shown a small parlour where breakfast is to be served. Her mother, Lady Rose, is already seated, picking at a piece of unbuttered bread. Her sisters sit on either side, and Hermione takes her place at the head.
"Where are the Lockhart's? The kidnappers?" Hermione asks, as one of the servers pours her out tea and passes her a plate filled with an assortment of fresh fruit, breads, cheeses and jams.
"Gildroy will join us for afternoon tea before we depart once more," Lady Rose says pointedly. "And our entourage are outside hunting."
"No doubt bringing back a prize for the usurper," Katie mutters under her breath, which makes Luna laugh.
"Stop it," Lady Rose snaps. "Eat your food. I want to be on the road by noon."
"Why are you in such a hurry to be there at all?" Katie asks. "Our lives will be unbearable."
"Not once your sister is Queen," Lady Rose states plainly.
"There's only one Queen in Hogwarts castle," Katie replies sharply, "and that is the Kings Mother. Narcissa."
When the Malfoys had first arrived at Hogwarts castle, Draco was dismayed to see that it resembled only a meagre shell of its former glory. Whilst growing up in France, he had been shown paintings and maps of the beautiful castle by his uncle Lucius, and he had vowed that when he was King, that would be the place of his residence. Unlike the former King, he would not shelter in the quiet quarry of Hampstead palace. No, he wanted The Hogwarts Castle, a place his ancestor, and subsequent claim to the throne, had resided during his reign in the 12th century. Lord Voldemort.
Draco, is a direct descendant from the infamous Lord Voldemort himself. Lord Voldemort was King Marvolo's oldest child and heir apparent, until he was murdered and usurped by his own brother. Voldemort's wife, was left alone and pregnant, forced to flee too and give birth to her daughter in safety. And it was that daughter that carried on the lineage, producing girl after girl until - Narcissa. Narcissa produced Draco and that's when everything changed. He was the rightful heir to the throne of England, not Voldemort's wretched brothers descendants, which were the Gryffindors. No, the house of Slytherin would prevail and so it has.
King Draco, now claiming his rightful title, sits in his throne at just eighteen years old, finally feeling as though justice has been restored.
The throne room, is one of Hogwarts holy relics, practically untouched from the ancient days. Thought the castle is in need of repair, this room remains intact, and already hundreds of servants and labourers are working dusk until dawn to bring the glorious castle back to life. He will restore his ancestral home and he will bring glory to the kingdom once more.
"Where is the princess?" He asks, directing his irritation at a poor and unsuspecting member of his privy chamber. This time, it happens to be Mr Ogden, in charge of maintaining open communication between the Knights of The Garter and his new bride to be.
"We have been informed that the Lockhart's hosted her, the two other princesses, and the Queen Dowager last night your majesty," Mr Ogden replied hastily. "They will head straight here this afternoon if all goes to plan."
Draco leans forward slightly in his chair, staring straight into the old mans eyes. "And it shall go well, shan't it?" He asks him, his voice an octave lower. "Because if something happens to her, then I will know who to blame."
Mr Ogden swallows hard, but Draco leans back his head and laughs, the voice echoing throughout the entire lofty room.
"Draco," his mother warns quietly, and he rolls his eyes as he sits back up.
"Be quiet mother," he whispers. "Or I shall marry you off to Ogden myself."
In front of the throne, on his left, stands Narcissa Malfoy. Now, formally known as My Lady The Kings Mother. On his left, stands Lucius Malfoy. His uncle and dearest companion he could have ever asked for. These two people right here are who helped every single step of the way to place Draco on the throne. From his uncle fleeing with him to France to keep him safe, all the way to his mother pretending to serve the Dowager Queen Lady Rose whilst sending illicit messages across the border to Lucius. When King James IV finally died, Narcissa saw and opening. A crack in the story. A place to be filled. She had always been looking for one, and hell she would have created one if nothing came along but fate had pulled through and granted them open door.
She was not about to let King James' bastard son take the throne over her pure-blooded Draco. Rumour had it, that the whore Lady Rose Granger, had had a wild affair shortly before the birth of James V, and everybody had already agreed the boy looked nothing like his father and siblings. No, Narcissa would take this opportunity. She would weal it like melted metal and she would put her only son on the throne, just as God intended.
Once council is over and everybody has left, Draco removes himself from his throne in anger. Narcissa and Lucius both know what is to come. It is all they have been hearing since they first arrived and struck the deal with Lady Rose.
"I will not marry the harlot," he says, as though he has finally made his decision.
Narcissa and Lucius give each other a look. He catches it and faces around toward them angrily.
"I mean it," he states, and in that moment, his eyes are a little wild. Determination set in them like stone.
Narcissa reaches forward to place a hand on his shoulder.
"Draco," she says softly. "You must. We must do everything we can to unite the houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin. We have been at war for far too long."
He wrenches away from her, his footsteps making loud clapping noises on the hard wooden floor.
"My ancestors would never have married a whore from the rival house," he insists. "Why can I not marry a bride of my own choosing? What is wrong with one of the Greengrass girls?"
Narcissa sighs. "Draco, they are noble blood yes. But Hermione, she is a princess. A royal princess that will help unite the houses. Half of your claim was dependent upon marrying a Gryffindor princess."
He grows angry at this. He stalks up to his mother, only inches from her face.
"I am the rightful heir to this throne," he spits. "My claim is not based off of any woman. Royalty or not."
Narcissa flinches, and Lucius steps next to her protectively.
"Draco," he says, his voice low and cool. "You are the King now and Kings must do what is in the interest of their country. The interest of their stability on the throne. If you do not marry a Gryffindor princess, who is to say she won't breed her own heirs in time to come and have them claim their own stake to the throne? If those heirs are with you however, we are secure. A dynasty for all time."
Draco, is furious. He wants to counteract their arguments but knows he cannot. Lucius is right. Aside from him, Princess Hermione and her sisters remain the only legitimate claimants to the throne. As girls themselves, they would never be able to convince an army to stand for them, but if they had boys…
He knows what he must do, even though he despises it with every inch of his being.
"You can take whichever mistress suits you best," his mother says gently, trying to appease him. "You do not have to be loyal to the girl. You do not even have to like her."
Oh, he already knows that. But his temper is foul, and it is no use.
"Ready the horses," he yells, at nobody in particular. "I'm going to hunt."
Gildroy sends the girls off with small gifts of silk pouches and ribbons for their hair. Neither Hermione or Katie are impressed, but Luna is young and she ties one in her hair straight away.
At nightfall, they stop at an inn, where the princesses and Lady Rose all have to share a room which the latter mumbles heavily about.
"You would think that the King would provide better lodgings for his Queen to be and her immediate family," she says stiffly, trying to get warm in the cold bed.
"When will you realise that I am nothing but a puppet for him mother?" Hermione says, the darkness making her brave. "He weds me to control me. To stop me from seeking the throne myself."
"Shut up," Lady Rose hisses. "I told you, there are ears everywhere."
But Hermione has fallen into the dangerous pit of despair these past few hours, a whole she thinks herself unlikely to climb out of anytime soon.
"When I am convinced that there are no spies," Lady Rose hisses. "Then I will talk to you properly. But for now, we must mind our tongue."
Hermione looks over to her mother, intrigued. She shakes her head firmly however.
"Go to sleep," she insists. "Tomorrow is a long day Hermione. Tomorrow, you will meet The King."
If Hermione could have begged the gods themselves to stop dawn arriving, then she would have. Alas, her prayers are not answered, and as the sun rises high in the sky, she is ushered from her bed by her mother and forced to ready quickly.
The morning air is chill, and they ride for hours, not breaking until Hogwarts is in front of them. As they approach the land, Hermione stills, fear echoing throughout her very core. The sight is nothing short of magnificent and looks like something straight out of a long lost fairy-tale. It sits high, deposited by a beautiful valley area with surrounding mountains dotting the structure like soft plump clouds. An enormous black lake lies to the south of the main building and a dark forest stretches out for miles and miles on all sides. Hermione thinks it an appropriate place for the usurper. Dark and broody. Beautiful and mysterious. Well, she doesn't know about the beautiful part. But from what she's heard, the new King is not exactly lacking in the looks department.
As they get closer, she begins to see the enormous oak front doors, the entrance to the main building. They are so big that they could fit a small army in all at once, and as the horses draw closer and closer, her heart begins to pound like a sallow, desperate to escape from her heavy chest. Perhaps sensing her distress, Lady Rose reaches out a hand of comfort toward her daughter. Hermione takes it quickly; her breathing growing heavier and heavier with each passing second.
"It's enormous," Luna whispers, half in awe and half afraid as she looks out of her window. It is dusk now, and the sky is taking on an ethereal inky appearance. Almost translucent and supernatural.
"I don't want to be his Queen," Hermione whispers. "Mother, I can't."
Lady Rose squeezes her hand once more. "My dear, you must," she says, almost apologetically. "For the good of the realm and for the safety of your family you must."
"I want to go home," Katie says, her voice shaky. Her face is white and sallow, with evidence of cold trapped beneath the skin.
Lady Rose sighs and takes a deep breath, steadying not only her daughters, but herself.
"This is our home," she says, with a quiet finality that leaves everything feeling black. "This is our new home, and we must learn to survive. Now, wipe those faces and smile. We're almost there."
