"A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment."
Draco cruised along a winding country lane, enjoying the purr of the E-Type mixed with the strains of Sticky Fingers blasting from its speakers. Could that enchanting witch possibly have been right about the best Stones album? He smiled—even the fact that he had been summoned to what would certainly be a stiff and boring lunch with his mother couldn't dampen his mood.
Swinging the long nose of the car up a discreet drive, he revved the engine a bit as he crested the hill. Narcissa absolutely hated it when he drove his muggle cars onto her property, and so he took a boyish delight in doing it. As he'd asked her once, what was the point of having a driveway if you weren't going to drive something on it? She'd sniffed and told him not to be obtuse.
Oh good, "Can't You Hear Me Knocking" guitar intro. Draco turned up the sound and idled in front of the house for a moment of maximum obnoxiousness. His mind drifted to the already well-worn memory of the previous day's—and night's—events, and he felt a softness steal over his features. She'd tasted like fucking honey. Her skin. Her lips. It was better than even his most heated imaginings. Gods, her hands running up his back and her voice sighing his name. And the kiss had just been the cherry on top. The whole day had been fucking delightful.
He wondered if it would seem overeager to try to see her again tonight. He wanted to taste more of her. Bury his face in her hair. Feel those long legs wrapped around him. Hear her opinions about something obscure and interesting. He wondered what she'd do if he told her she was right about her precious record. He suspected that might be a turn-on for her and laughed softly. He also shifted in his seat and pulled his mind back to the present. It wouldn't do to walk into his mother's house in a state of obvious arousal.
He finally cut the engine and slid out of the car, moving slowly up the steps to what Narcissa called her 'cottage'. On the one hand it was about one tenth the size of the Manor, and on the other it had eight bedrooms, four sitting rooms and a conservatory, so one's mileage may vary. He did find it mildly interesting that his mother also hadn't wanted to live in the ancestral home after the war, although she had been totally and unsurprisingly opposed to the idea of turning it into The Meadows. Of course, the Malfoy family followed the most sexist of pureblood inheritance laws, and control of the entire fortune had been left to him, so Draco hadn't been much concerned with her objections. He didn't know why she was so fretful about it— there was more than enough to spend in several lifetimes.
Walking into the cool interior of the house, Draco was greeted by one of the several house elves who had moved with Narcissa rather than stay at the Manor and serve the plebes. He was divested of his driving coat and escorted to the terrace where a lovely and elaborate table setting was laid. His mother sat in serene calm, her pearl gray robes a perfect compliment to the platinum edge of the bone china. He crossed to her and kissed her lightly powdered cheek before dropping into a chair.
"Hello, mother. Thank you for the invitation. Lovely day for lunch in the country."
"Draco." She picked up and sipped a small, very cold glass of white wine.
Wonderful, she was in a pique. He'd wondered at the reason for this lunch. Or maybe he'd overdone it with the car and the music. He'd probably need to grow up and stop acting like a 15 year old with her at some point, but it was so amusing.
Draco requested his own glass of wine and told the elf to leave the bottle. A slight crease appeared between his mother's brows and she narrowed her eyes, but he ignored her and drank a healthy measure. He could always floo home and leave the car here, which would annoy her even more.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, mother?" he said buoyantly, his good mood from yesterday still unsinkable.
Narcissa signaled for the first course. "A mother likes to see her son in person, rather than exclusively in the newspapers."
Ah, so it was going to be a lecture about him being more discreet. Likely a dose of 'when are you going to settle down' with an underpinning of 'you are such a disappointment to me'. Of course, Draco had come to see his mother's disappointment as a sign that he was doing something right, so he wasn't too daunted at the prospect of today's instruction. He'd just tune Narcissa out, drink her excellent wine and replay yesterday in his mind until it was time to leave. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs ankle over knee, another thing he knew she hated, and prepared to pretend he was listening. Her next remark drew him up short, though.
"What are your intentions with regard to Hermione Granger, Draco?" His mother may have been a lady to the core, but she was never one to beat around the bush.
Draco popped up from his blasé pose, not missing the tiny flicker of triumph in her eyes. "What do you mean?" he said, trying to temper his reaction. How did she fucking know? Did she have spies in the streets and parks of muggle London?
"I mean that I saw a set of very incriminating pictures in the Daily Prophet a few weeks ago, which I dismissed as idle speculation and/or a meaningless dalliance." Draco felt heat start up his neck. "Until I received an owl from your great-aunt this morning, informing me in gleeful tones that you had written to her on Ms. Granger's behalf. Those two occurrences and a rising tide of whispers amongst my acquaintance lead me to my question. What are your intentions with the muggle-born?"
Draco ground his teeth together to bite back a response that would have been both unhelpful and vulgar. He was seething and he could feel the flush on his neck spreading upwards. Could he not have this good thing for a time before it was sullied by familial expectations? Of course not, because everything he did was under scrutiny.
To be truthful he didn't exactly know what his intentions were yet. And one kiss in, he shouldn't have to. What he did know was that he was enjoying getting to know someone. That she excited and interested him. That her beauty captivated him. That he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her for weeks. And yes, he also knew in the back of his mind that if it went further than casual it would be complicated—and not only for him. She would face her own uncomfortable consequences in becoming entangled with an infamous former Death Eater. And he hadn't really examined that. But he didn't want to yet, and certainly not with his mother.
"My intentions are to not discuss anything about my private life with you unless I deem it appropriate," he said in what he hoped was an extremely indifferent tone.
Narcissa wasn't deterred. "You don't deny that you've become involved with this person? That she's a part of your 'private life'?" Draco could tell his mother's calm was beginning to crack, which was rather alarming.
"Your Wisteria looks particularly prolific this year, mother. Whatever is your secret?" He took another deep draught of his wine.
"Draco. You will answer me." Narcissa's mouth tightened and her voice grew icy. "I will not have my only son throw himself and the lines of two ancient families away on a muggle-born. I will not. This is not what I saved you for."
Draco blanched and a muscle twitched in his jaw. "This conversation has grown incredibly boring, mother. Thank you for the lunch invitation, but I find I can't stay. Another time when you're less upset, perhaps." He rose from the table and walked through the house and out to the Jaguar without a backward glance. Fuck it, he'd drive, he'd only had one glass of wine, he thought conducting the car calmly down the drive and out onto the lane and accelerating with a squeal of tires only when he knew he was out of earshot.
Anger coursed through his veins as he took the curves of the road at breakneck speed. Without realizing it, he'd set a course for Theo's house. He needed the drive, his friend's calming presence and maybe a hard fly around the practice pitch to work this poison out of his system.
The worst thing was that he knew that Narcissa was in some small, absolutely bollocks way, right. He would have to 'examine his intentions' at some point and decide if he was all in for the shit that would come his—and Hermione's—way if they decided to make a real go of this. They weren't just normal people who could go out, spend time together, or gods forbid, fall in love. It would all be scrutinised and dissected. The whole wizarding world would have opinions. And there would be consequences for their personal lives, their public lives and possibly their careers.
Did he really want that?
It would be much easier to do as he'd always planned—marry a woman of his own social class and live his private life discreetly and privately, in the way of countless generations of his pureblood ancestors. He hit the steering wheel. FUCK! He'd felt so good this morning and now he felt unsettled. Maybe that had been Narcissa's intention all along—to plant an insidious little seed. He swore long and fluently, setting an illegal pace and muttering a disillusionment charm so that he could get to Theo's as quickly as possible without ending up in a muggle jail.
~oOo~
Hermione sat at the desk in her bedroom, chin in hand, musing about the events of the previous day, or more accurately, mooning over that incredible kiss. That first moment when Draco had pulled her to him had been like an explosion. She was breathless just thinking about it. And she was honest in what she'd told Ginny—it had never been like that for her before.
What would it be like the next time she saw him…? A wicked grin spread over her face and she sighed decadently, thoughts running rampant again until a sharp tapping interrupted her reverie. She looked up to see a sleek owl at her window, hovering imperiously. Hermione gave a start of surprise, then let it in and untied a tightly wound scroll from its ankle. A feeling of déjà vu stole over her at the quality of the thick parchment. Unrolling it, excitement spiked in her blood as she realised it was the long awaited response from Lucretia Black. Draco had worked quickly indeed! He must have owled his aunt last night. Hermione's cheeks warmed with pleasure at the thought of his help.
The response was formal and succinct, granting, "Ms. Granger permission to cross the Black lands and treat with the centaur herd." But the boon was huge, effectively clearing the last roadblock to the project. Even though it was the weekend, Hermione excitedly owled a note to her department head to inform her of the news.
Not ten minutes later the owl returned with a hurried reply containing congratulations and a command that Hermione immediately put her travel plans into motion—her supervisor expected her in France within the week for an indefinite stay. Hermione squealed then promptly began making to-do lists and sketching out an itinerary for the journey. Next, she owled Percy and Penelope Weasley to let them know she was finally coming.
By late afternoon she had gotten many things in order as well as a reply from Pen stating that the cottage was ready and waiting for her. Hermione smiled at this, looking forward to seeing her friends. It was Sunday and she should be ready to leave by Wednesday. She leaned back in her chair, anticipating the work ahead with a satisfied sigh. Then she tilted her head to the side. Should she tell Draco that she was leaving town? It seemed…rude…to disappear without word after the day they'd shared. But one kiss, no matter how earth-shattering, also seemed premature to be alerting him to her movements. And wouldn't it seem a little over-eager to reach out to him so quickly?
She tapped her fingers thoughtfully. Could she possibly write to thank him for interceding with his aunt and mention that in light of the positive response she would be leaving directly? That seemed to strike the right note. And it would leave the door open for seeing each other before she left. He had said 'soon'.
Staring unseeingly out the window, Hermione gave a sigh of disappointment that she would be leaving just as things were starting between them. The timing couldn't be worse. But, she shook her head impatiently, it also couldn't be helped. Grabbing a piece of parchment, she dashed off the missive to Draco before she could second-guess herself. She signed her name and, after chewing her quill for a moment, added a sweet postscript that flamed her cheeks. She then quickly summoned the house owl and sent it off before resuming her preparations for the trip.
~oOo~
Draco sank into a deep leather club chair in the library at Nott House, feeling much more collected than when he'd arrived. He and Theo had flown a bruising course around the pitch and fenced until they fell down. Now they were enjoying an old and peaty single malt as the last rays of evening sun filtered through the dim room's thickly curtained windows. Draco's earlier agitation hadn't allowed for meaningful conversation, but now he was catching Theo up on the general outline of what had happened since they'd last seen each other.
Theo seemed particularly interested in— and quietly excited about—the developments with Hermione, although he wasn't dismissive of Narcissa's reaction. Draco was reminded that Theo had profound experience with the unpleasant reality of defying familial expectations. And the fact remained that the interview with Narcissa had shaken Draco. He'd tried to get back some of the euphoria he'd felt earlier, but it hadn't come.
He leaned back in his chair and sighed, then became aware of a tapping at the library window. A vaguely familiar owl was hovering outside. Theo opened the latch and it flew in, looking extremely tired, and landed next to Draco.
"Poor little bloke looks like he's been trying to find you all day," Theo said, looking at the owl with concern.
"Well I have literally been all over the countryside." Draco untied the scroll from the owl's foot and gave him a stroke. "Hope he didn't try to follow me when I was driving!"
Theo summoned a house elf and asked him to take the bird to the owlery for refreshment and rest. Draco unrolled the scroll and couldn't stop a smile stealing over his face as he realised who it was from. He involuntarily stroked the paper with a finger as he read. Theo looked quizzically at him and Draco looked back, the smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"It's from Hermione. She's thanking me for interceding with my aunt. Lucretia's given her full permission to cross the Black lands and she's leaving for France in three days. She'll be there for at least six weeks." He didn't tell Theo about the little personal comment the note had ended with, but it landed like a sweet arrow in his heart, leaching away some of the doubt planted there by his mother.
His next thought was more bittersweet. She'd be gone for six weeks . Just as they had begun. He sighed. Maybe he could try to see her before she left, although he figured she'd be busy getting ready to go.
"Six weeks. That's a long time," said Theo, seemingly reading his mind.
"Yeah. Well maybe it's for the best. I can get some perspective and see if this thing has legs."
Theo shook his head. "Mmm if I were you, I'd be inventing an excuse to visit my aunt." As the words left his lips, the floo suddenly leapt to life in the library fireplace and emitted a crying Daphne.
"Daph, what's wrong?" Theo jumped up.
"What is it?" Draco said at the same time. He sprang forward and supported Daphne to a chair, his heart clenching with worry.
"It's Astor," Daphne sniffed. Draco kneeled next to her, terrified, grasping her hands.
"We saw that fucking arsehole in Oxford Street." Daph took Theo's proffered handkerchief and wiped her eyes. "She wanted to go shopping and I thought muggle London would be safe. It was fine the other day. Plus there's no way we'll run into Jack Wickham in a huge crowd of muggles, right? Well there he was with his stupid, smirking face. He had the nerve to try to talk to her. And I couldn't hex him, because muggles. I got her out of there, but now she's gone into that place where she won't speak and just lays on the bed staring out the window. I don't know what to do, Draco." Her pained eyes shot to his. "I knew we shouldn't have let her stay in London once we knew he was there." She shook her head. "I need to get back straight away, but I wanted you to know."
Draco's felt his face set into rigid lines throughout this recitation. He squeezed Daphne's hands. "I'll go with you," he said tightly. "Right now. Theo can you have the elves send my things?"
"Of course. I'll actually follow with them myself. I'll be at the flat in less than an hour."
Draco nodded and he and Daphne moved toward the fireplace, his arm around her slumped shoulders. "It will be OK, Daph. We'll get her through it. I'll do her away. She's been on at me about New York. We can be there in six hours on a muggle jet."
Daphne let out a little sob. "Thank you. You know I can't do this without you."
"You'll never have to. Now let's go help her be better." Draco grasped her hand and they disappeared into the floo.
~oOo~
Twelve hours later Draco sat with Daphne and Astoria in a chartered jet on the runway at London City Airport. The idea of New York had been the only thing that elicited a flicker of interest from Astoria, so he'd put a plan into motion immediately. Maybe running away wasn't the best thing to do, but he couldn't stand to see her with that vacant stare. There had been weeks of it last winter and it had been bloody awful. They hadn't known if she'd ever come back, and Draco would do nearly anything to not let her go to that place again.
He had felt a pang of regret that he wouldn't see Hermione before she left, but he'd pushed it away, dashing off a quick note responding to hers to congratulate her on the progress of her project at long last. He'd also told her something unexpected meant he'd be in New York indefinitely and closed with an endearment: "I look forward very much to when I can see you again, whenever that may be. xx. ~D" He stared out at the pinks and oranges of the sunrise as the plane took off over the sinuous Thames and hoped it would be enough.