"Angry people are not always wise"
Hermione moped around her cottage for about an hour after Draco left and then decided she was absolutely not going to sit and brood when she had so little time left in France. Instead she walked to the swimming spot and spent the rest of the morning there. Then she treated herself to lunch and shopping in Aix and finally invited herself to dinner with Pen and Percy. They had a lovely night that reminded her of when she'd first arrived, although it was definitely cooler and darker in the evening now.
On Saturday, she went up to the farmhouse early and offered to take the children for the evening so that Pen and Percy could get away alone. At first they had protested, but Hermione had insisted, practically pushing them out the door. An overnight with three under-eights was the perfect antidote to sitting around and obsessing about Draco and the ball he refused to take her to. She would much rather play endless rounds of Exploding Snap or Gobstones, than wonder if his refusal was the first step down a long slippery slope that would end with her crying on a sofa and consuming too much ice cream.
The children wanted to stay in her cottage, seeing it as a sort of exotic holiday location, so they had a jolly time, camping out in her sitting room and staying up a bit too late. When the morning rolled around, Hermione awoke refreshed and in a much better mood, her natural optimism and practicality having reasserted themselves. Even if this whatever-it-was with Draco didn't work out, she told herself briskly, she still had her work and her friends and her life in London. She would be fine. This frame of mind required quite a bit of ignoring of a persistent inner voice that whispered she would be anything but fine, but she managed for a few hours.
She delivered the small Weasleys up to the farmhouse in the late morning, where Pen told her that they would be leaving again for the rest of the day, on an invitation from friends in a neighboring village to attend a fun fair and stay overnight. Hermione hung around and helped as they got ready, then waved them off a few hours later as they left through the floo.
She was locking up the farmhouse behind her when a large owl swooped by, the daily paper delivery in its beak. Hermione absentmindedly picked up the rolled Prophet from where the bird dropped it and ambled down the path to the cottage, her thoughts on the presentation she would be making to her department next week. Would it be better to structure it chronologically or by individual rights enumerated…? She opened the cottage door and tossed the paper on the counter, then hurried over to her workspace to start jotting down ideas.
Working quietly for almost an hour, Hermione was startled by the floo when it flared in her fireplace grate. She was even more shocked when she realised the flames held a sobbing Ginny.
"Oh my God, what's wrong!?" Hermione called as she rushed across the room. As she got closer, Ginny dashed her tears away and Hermione realised that she was angry, not scared or sad.
"It's your fucking ferret of a boyfriend," Ginny spat.
"What!?" Hermione's heart seized.
"He's convinced Theo to pull all of his investment out of the quidditch scheme." Ginny's face was white and set, and her eyes sparked fire that Hermione could see even through the green flames.
"What? I don't understand! He never said anything. When? How?"
"Yesterday. Theo came by yesterday and told Harry he'd gone over the plan in detail and just couldn't support it." Ginny's voice dripped venom.
"Oh my god, poor Harry." Hermione's hand drifted to her mouth. "But how do you know Draco was involved? Did Theo say something?"
"He didn't have to. George was at that stupid club all the pureblood twats belong to—as a guest of course—and he saw them huddled up yesterday afternoon over the prospectus. He said Malfoy was doing all the talking. And Theo came to the house directly after."
Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. How could Draco have done that? Without even mentioning it to her? He'd even told her he was meeting with Theo… "How is Harry?" she said shakily.
"Oh he played it off with Nott," Ginny said bitterly. "But he's absolutely destroyed. This is effectively the end of the scheme. Once it gets out that Nott's dropped out, no one is going to want to touch it." Ginny's anger seemed to seep away. "He's so depressed, Hermione," she sobbed. "I haven't seen him like this since after Sirius."
Hermione felt her anger flare. What the fuck? She couldn't believe Draco hadn't said something—warned her at least. And Theo? She'd thought they were closer than this… And even if she'd known on some level that Harry was playing fast and loose with the plan's financials, she'd figured Theo—and by extension Draco—knew that by now and had factored it in. Ginny was right, Theo's desertion would cripple the scheme. Her fists clenched and she exhaled raggedly.
"I want you to know that I had no idea this was in the offing," she said, looking intently at Ginny. "No clue. I would have told you."
"I know that, of course." Ginny's face was sad. "And I want you to know that part of me is sorry about what this means for you."
Hermione shook her head. "I don't know what it means. But I will find out. And maybe I can fix it."
A look of doubt flashed across Ginny's face before she glanced over her shoulder. "I have to go. Harry's awake—he didn't sleep at all last night and he's been napping for the last few hours. I'm going to try to get him to eat something. He hasn't had anything since yesterday." She turned back to Hermione, "I'll see you on Tuesday or Wednesday, yeah?"
"Yes, likely Tuesday evening."
Ginny nodded once and the flames went dark.
Hermione sat in front of the empty fireplace grate, hugging her knees and staring off into nothing for a long while. Eventually she pushed up and moved across the cottage into the kitchen—she definitely needed a drink.
Reaching for a glass, she poured a healthy measure of cognac and leaned against the counter, sipping slowly.
She was angry, yes, and hurt at the lack of openness. The secrecy and back-room dealing felt, for lack of a better descriptor, so Slytherin. But her analytical side also knew that there had always been real flaws in Harry's scheme—flaws that she'd pointed out to him and to Ginny, and which they obviously hadn't addressed.
She'd known there was going to be difficulty and awkwardness around integrating her relationship with Draco with her life back home, but this was going to be a true trial by fire. Wait until Molly Weasley got wind of it… Hermione blew out a long breath.
Was it even worth it? On the heels of that thought, she imagined the way Draco had looked at her in the dim light yesterday morning. When his eyes had been deep and fathomless and she had almost said what was in her heart.
Didn't all worthy things take work?
She sighed and looked down. This was going to take a lot of work.
Staring into nothing again, Hermione's eye was caught by the moving image on the front page of the rolled up Daily Prophet. Something in the shape looked familiar…
She picked up the paper and shook it out, turning it over to the front cover. What she saw made her gasp, her cognac glass slipping from her fingers to shatter on the hard stone floor.
'Sacred Stroll Straight to the Altar!?' screamed the headline.
And under it two photos—both of Draco—and the dark-haired girl from Theo's party.
Hermione's brain seemed to stall in place as she gazed at them.
Of course she first registered that he looked gorgeous, his dark dress robes in stark contrast to his striking hair. Then she noted that the girl—oh, her name was Jonquil, how lovely—was absolutely breathtaking, a perfect china doll, complete with porcelain skin and sleek ebony locks. And then Hermione took in their body language. In the first picture, they were dancing, the copy noting that they had opened the ball. The girl, Jonquil, was smiling up at Draco as they twirled. He was obscured at first, but the picture ended on a full view of his face, tenderness radiating from it as he looked down at his partner. Blaise Zabini was grinning just over his shoulder and the cherry on top was Narcissa Malfoy, looking on with a beaming smile.
The second photo? Oh the second photo was even better! It was much smaller and clearly taken from quite far away. Draco and Jonquil were tucked into a dim corner, obviously having a very personal conversation. She placed her hand on his chest, (Hermione's breath sucked in painfully at this) and he pulled her gently against him. Then she rested her head against his lapels as his hand went up to cup the back of her neck.
Hermione felt like she was going to throw up.
And that was before she noticed the lurid bold-faced type at the bottom of the page, "Turn to Rita Skeeter's latest on Page Six to see how the rest of the lovebirds' night (and morning after) went!"
Seemingly of their own volition, Hermione's shaking fingers found page six, but not before she noticed a gushing quote from Narcissa Malfoy referencing her hopes for a 'happy announcement' in the very near future.
Page six was almost all photos. In contrast to the high quality images on the cover, these were grainy and unfocused. But they still painted a clear picture: Draco leading the dark-haired girl into his flat the night of the ball and her exiting the next morning, this morning, when Hermione had been helping the children sort every-flavoured beans on her sitting room floor.
And Jonquil was wearing one of his shirts.
Hermione slid to the ground, her eyes barely taking in the article accompanying the photos—something about long-standing engagement rumours and two fortunes joining to fund major projects at the Meadows… Then she snapped into focus again, her horror renewing as she read,
"Does this mean Draco's golden days in France are over? We've heard rumours that he's been keeping company with a certain well-known golden girl on assignment there. But it seems that play-time is over for the platinum-haired prince and it's time to settle down."
And then all the way at the bottom of the column Hermione noticed Jack Wickham's name. She skimmed the item dazedly, her blood beginning to boil. It was about the breakup of Wickam's engagement, with Skeeter alluding to a person from his past warning-off Gladiola Sinclair, (did they all having fucking flower names?) then noting archly that Draco had been seen at an intimate lunch with the heiress the week before. He had certainly been fucking busy. The item continued with hints at the bad blood between Draco and Jack, finishing with a typically Skeeter-like flourish, "Does it seem fair that as he's finding happiness, Draco is preventing an old 'friend' from doing the same? But then again, Draco Malfoy has never played by the rules…"
Hermione's fist pounded the floor. Every feeling about being hidden away and not good enough rioted to the surface.
She was so angry.
Oh, of course she was angry at him, the duplicitous bastard. But she was more angry at herself. How could she have drifted into this role? The ever-available mistress, tucked away in the French countryside…known only to a few trusted friends and even fewer family members.
She'd let passion get in the way of her judgement. Gone against every instinct—every warning flag that had come up. She'd just ignored it and this was what she got.
Hermione's fingers curled against the flagstones. It was so clear now that she'd been kept in a little bubble exactly where he wanted her. And no, they had never talked about exclusivity, but she had fucking assumed.
She heaved up and stumbled back over to the fireplace, throwing in the floo powder and muttering, "my flat."
Ginny was already sitting at the grate. "I wondered if you'd seen yet," she said tonelessly when she saw Hermione's face.
"I just. I feel like such a fool. I should have listened to myself."
"I'm so sorry," Ginny reached her hand out through the flames. "I'm angry at him on Harry's behalf, but I'm livid with him on yours."
Hermione felt a tear roll down her cheek.
"Fuck!" Ginny's breath exploded from her lips. "I mean, it's just this crowd, Hermone. We shouldn't have trusted them. Skeeter got it right for once. They don't play by the same rules that we do. Decency? Honesty? Who cares!"
Hermione nodded but felt some niggling thoughts intrude, mainly around Astoria and the care Draco had taken with her, but that was obviously the exception. And, of course, Astoria was one of them.
"We tried to give them the benefit of the doubt." Ginny continued, "We really tried." She looked up at Hermione with tired eyes, "I'm so sorry, love. I wish I were there."
"And I wish I were there," Hermione choked out. "But I'm leaving though, Gin. As soon as Pen and Percy come back tomorrow evening. I'll say goodbye to the herd tomorrow during the day and owl Lucretia. There's no need for me to stay any longer."
"Are you going to see him before you go?"
"Yes, he's supposed to come over tonight. And seeing as I'm not a fucking coward, I'll tell him in person what I think."
"Well, call me any time of the night if you need to." Ginny blew her a sad kiss and Hermione reached out her hand back to her.
"Thanks, love. I'll see you very soon."
The flames died again and Hermione picked herself up and made her way to the kitchen, where she cleaned up the shards of her broken glass. Pouring another, she picked up the paper and dragged a chair to the back garden of the cottage, then sat herself down to watch the sunset and wait.