Chapter 2
Over the next hour, Draco introduced Hermione to a list of important business partners from all over the British Isles, all of them charmed by her and some of them astonished that he had succeeded in wooing her, as they recognised her as a former War heroine.
He had previously thought her to be harsh and lacking any upbringing, so he caught himself repeatedly as he watched in amazement how graceful and charming she acted.
"Mr Malfoy, I'm so glad you could make it!" A middle-aged man approached him, clad in a similarly tailored dress suit, although his cummerbund seemed a bit stretched in places. "I'm so sorry for missing you at Blackwood's retirement party, but my Healer strictly forbade any stress that day."
"Mr Thursby, what a pleasure," Draco greeted with a polished smile, placing his tumbler on the standing table next to him before holding out his hand for a shake. "Glad to see you feel better again."
"Don't you want to introduce me to this gentleman, my dear?" Hermione said with her most adoring smile as she came up from behind, hooking her arm into his.
Mr Thursby's face immediately lightened up as he saw her, and he bowed his head as a greeting. "Mrs Malfoy, I presume? My wife has told me so much about you. Such a pleasure to meet you…"
"The pleasure is all mine," she replied, managing to blush the exact right amount. "Such a wonderful garden party… I'm really enjoying myself."
"Your presence certainly is a highlight tonight," Mr Thursby replied, his smile widening in response to her compliments. "I do hope to get a chance of a dance with you later."
"It would be an honour, but I think my dear husband would like to have the first dance with me." With an unwavering smile, she nudged Draco in the side, who had laid his free hand on hers that rested on his arm.
"Oh yes, dear. The first dance is mine," Draco replied, slightly leaning into her with a warm smile. "Looking forward to it."
"Now, Mr Malfoy," Mr Thursby continued with a more earnest tone to his voice, "can I invite you to a glass of my finest stock? Business is best discussed over a well-aged Firewhisky."
..
Later that evening, Draco was finally able to lead Hermione to the dance floor as a slow waltz had been announced just as he returned from the business talks with Thursby in private. He was smiling broadly throughout the walk onto the floor, holding on to her hand in his.
"How did it go with Thursby?" she asked as they were dancing slowly to the music; his hands were carefully placed above her waist to avoid any dangerous slips. "Did my charms work on the man?"
"I think I should hire you as my lucky charm, Granger," he replied with a satisfied grin, throwing a quick glance around him to avoid crashing into another dancing couple. He was positively surprised at her security in her steps and her trust in him leading them. Given their history, he had expected a bigger struggle, yet here they were, dancing in harmony. "He agreed to most of my conditions, and the rest is just details."
"I don't think you could pay me enough for that, Malfoy… And working with an opportunist and snob like you is not on my list anyway. This is a one-time arrangement; don't forget that."
He frowned briefly at her words, but then immediately covered it with another smile. "I'm not as bad as you think I still am."
"You got off scot-free for what you've done in the War–"
"Granger, please. Just ask your friend Potter about it; he did testify for me at my trial. You forget that I was under supervision for a few years, and I was only allowed to take over the business after agreeing to some very strict conditions. You just think I'm still a shallow, prejudiced bully, right?"
With a sigh and a faint smile, she lowered her gaze for a moment. "I'm… I'm sorry. It came out harsher than I meant to. It's just… It's just hard to ignore sometimes."
"I get that," he replied, appreciating her honesty. In the corner of his eye, he could already see Thursby waiting at the edge of the floor, ready to take over. "I learned a lot of things the hard way, and I still sometimes get hate mail or insults in the streets. I can live with that. However, it would be great if we could let the past be past and…"
She looked up again, her faint smile slowly widening, the warm spark in her dark brown eyes returning. "You want us to be friends?"
"Let's start with acquaintances." He sighed once more as the last notes of the slow waltz were played.
"Hmm… I think I can live with that, as long as we keep up the banter. I love that." Just as the waltz was finished, she came to a halt, even though her hands remained in their positions on his shoulder and hand. Her face was beaming with her broadest, yet slightly timid smile; it was like an invitation to just kiss her right there.
"Oh, I definitely love your fiery retorts, my dear." He leaned forward as the chatting noise immediately grew while the small orchestra got ready to play their next piece. "No one gives back as good as you do–"
"Mr Thursby!" Hermione let out, adding her charming smile for good measure, when the host approached them. "I presume your wife isn't so fond of dancing a waltz?"
"She isn't so fond of dancing, yes," the elder man said with a sheepish grin. "Arthritis in her knees. But she still loves playing hostess."
Draco nodded before he unwillingly let go of Hermione, as he would have loved to share another dance with her. "Have fun, my dear. I'll go and get some drinks."
"I'd love another of those Magic Sunrise cocktails, my dear." With a wink towards Draco, Hermione accepted the offer to dance by Mr Thursby just as the next waltz, a faster one, started playing. "I think I deserve it after this one."
"Sure, my love." Draco had to chuckle at the tip of her tongue she dared to pull at him in response before she was whisked away onto the dance floor. He watched them for a few more seconds before finally turning around to get the drinks.
It wasn't the last drink he'd get for her that evening, nor was it the last dance they would share amongst lots of exchanged words in their continued friendly banter.
..
Monday morning, Draco was about to finish writing his instructions for Gringotts to transfer the money from his vaults to Granger's vaults, even adding a generous bonus for playing her part so wonderfully.
Emptying his coffee, he had one last look over it to make sure it contained all the necessary information. The goblins at Gringotts were pedantic enough to refuse a transfer instruction just because it contained a single typo.
Just as he was about to get up to leave for his company, he heard the Floo sound, announcing a visitor. The instruction note still in his hand, he left the kitchen to see who had arrived—it was far too early for his mother to pay him a visit.
"MALFOY! You said it was a private party! That no one would know!"
The harsh words thrown at him rang in his ears for a moment before he realised that a very irate Hermione stood in his living room, holding up a copy of the day's Daily Prophet; the first page of the newspaper showed a picture of them dancing later that evening, both smiling. And to his utter dismay, his growing affection for her was clearly visible as well.
"The Thursby garden party is always a private event," he retorted with a hiss as he approached her. "I had no idea there would be any of those scumbags present. I know you hate them with a passion–"
"You have absolutely no idea!" She was shaking with anger, and her lethal glare made it clear that she would have loved to hex him into the next dimension. "This is entirely your fault, so make it clear that we are not married for real."
"With those pictures published, do you really think anyone would even believe us?" Not moving away an inch, he could feel the spikes of her frenzied magic as it came in contact with his own. "We'd make fools of ourselves by responding to this trash!"
Before Draco could continue, the fireplace activated once more, drawing both their attention. He sighed when he recognised his mother stepping out of it.
"Draco! What's going on? Did you forget to tell me something?"
He took a deep breath to calm down and put up a softer expression to appease his mother. "It's just a misunderstanding, Mother. Granger only helped me close a deal by playing my wife at Thursby's garden party. Press wasn't supposed to be there at all!"
"This is a nightmare," Hermione let out, rubbing her eyes with her free hand, her rolled-up copy of the Prophet in the other. "Me, married to you of all people. Might as well go into exile now."
Narcissa pulled the Prophet from Hermione's hand to have a look, her face softening for the briefest of moments when she studied the pictures on the first page. "Oh, my dear. You really do look like a couple enjoying themselves…"
"That's not even the worst part," Hermione replied and turned towards Narcissa to share a look at the front page; her eyes were still a dark glare, and her lips pressed into a thin line as she pointed out a paragraph. "Here it says 'It's clear that the newlywed Mr Malfoy is in love with his absolutely stunning wife.' Ugh."
"Hey, you did look absolutely stunning," he said, adding a smile as an attempt to appease her. "They at least go that part right."
She shot him a quick look before she sighed; however, her slightly blushing cheeks betrayed her. "It's not about that, you know? They can't seriously believe you could ever love someone like me?"
"Miss Granger–"
"Please, Granger, do give me some credit. I'm not half as bad as you think." Exasperated, he brushed through his hair, not caring about tousling the carefully arranged strands now. "And I'm really sorry for the mess."
She nodded in acknowledgement to his relief before she turned around to face him once more, his mother behind her folding the paper once more. "I'm just tired of having my private life all spread out on the front page all the time. It was hell after the breakup with Ron, even though we split as friends."
"Yeah, I get that."
"So," Narcissa said with a questioning furrow of her brows, interrupting the moment, "what are you going to do? This needs to be corrected…"
"I don't know." Draco briefly slumped his shoulders as he rubbed his neck. He could feel a low headache coming on, throbbing in the back of his head. "It's not like they are going to believe us. And…"
"What?" Hermione asked, her brows furrowed when he hesitated.
"You're not going to like it, Granger," he replied, suddenly hesitating.
"Just say it, please. What's possibly worse than the situation we're already in?"
He shared a look with his mother who nodded in possible agreement before he returned his attention to Hermione, who was staring at him impatiently and with her arms crossed now. "I… Look, what about playing along? I mean, continue playing the married couple for them. You'd have–"
"You have to be kidding! Continue that charade?"
"You'd have full access to the estates and the main family vault. I'll make a monthly donation to your charity, the same amount as agreed upon for the garden party."
"I'm not going to share a bed with you, Malfoy!"
He sighed at her open display of disgust at the very idea. "You can choose your own residence. It's not entirely uncommon for a Malfoy wife to have her own quarters."
"That is true, my dear," Narcissa added with a faint smile. "I always had my own quarters before… you know. You don't even have to see him every day…"
"I should have known better than come here! You really are an opportunist!" Hermione growled right at him. "You know the advantages of being married to a member of the Golden Trio, as much as I hate that name–"
"Granger, I'm just buying some time to find a way out of this mess!"
"Oh no!" She made a step towards him, her finger raised to poke his chest. "You're not. I should have asked Ginny for help… UGH!"
"Oh, as if she could have solved our problem! You're actually stupid enough to refuse my offer–"
"I'm not stupid!"
"Then heavily prejudiced for all I care!" He pushed her hand away, getting a momentary hold of her wrist before she managed to pull it away.
"I've had enough. I'm leaving! And don't you dare mention your idea ever again!" After one last threatening glare, Hermione finally turned around, reaching for the porcelain pot with the Floo powder.
"Draco, you can't let her leave like that!" Narcissa cried out as she stepped aside to let the furious Hermione pass.
He shrugged and watched Hermione step in the fireplace. "No use arguing with her right now, Mother. Not when she is like that."
"You're a fool…" She only shook her head at him in disbelief.
"I know, Mother. I know." His headache was now throbbing stronger and along the right side of his head; closing his eyes was only a momentary relief from it. It was one of those moments when he wished his heart wasn't such a fucking traitor.
Oh yes, he was a fool for liking the fiery lioness. An utter fool.
"Could you please take this to Gringotts?" he asked a few seconds later, holding up the transfer note he still had in his hand. "I need to lie down and take a potion before my headache blows my brains out."
"Of course." With a sympathetic smile, Narcissa took the note and folded it neatly before putting it in the pocket of her robe. "We'll find a solution; don't worry."
"Thanks."
..
Several days of headaches and deadly silence from Hermione later, Draco received an official-looking owl. The bird was waiting at his home, staring at him in sheer indignation as he opened the window to let it in.
"Oh, don't look at me like that," Draco muttered as the owl hopped inside, holding out its leg for him to take the note off.
It let out a little, satisfied sound as it accepted the owl treat from him in return for the delivery of the note. As soon as the piece of parchment was off, the owl returned outside with another hop, ready to find its way back home.
"Oh, it seems you don't need a response then…" Draco watched it fly off before he returned his attention to the note in his hands. He knew the seal; it was the one the Head Auror used. With a sigh, he opened it.
..
Draco,
Don't be scared off by the official-looking seal; I just used the opportunity while visiting my dear husband in his office.
We're both a little tired of listening to Hermione rambling on about you without being specific. I can only guess that it is about the article in the Prophet…
So, Harry's making lamb chops tonight, and it would be great if you could join us. Dinner is at seven. Be punctual. No excuses.
Oh, and it would be great if you could bring a bottle of your good Firewhisky.
See you tonight!
Ginny
..
Draco barely had any time to freshen up and grab a bottle from his alcohol stock. He would have preferred to recharge at home from a long day at his company, but then he'd rather not face an irritated Chaser the next day should he not show up. Being hit by her famous Bat-Bogey Hex was no fun at all.
Ginny was waiting for him as he stepped out of the fireplace, hands on her hips and a smirk brightening her face. "You made it!"
"Not saying no to lamb chops," Draco replied, returning the smirk, and held up the bottle for her to take. He wouldn't bring a bottle from his good stock for just anyone, but Ginny was the exception. After the War, they had connected over their shared love for Quidditch, as they had run into each other at games often enough; in addition, he tried to support her professional career as Chaser because she had the talent and fierceness the Harpies needed for a chance to win the next title.
Harry had been a different story; at first, he only begrudgingly accepted his apology and his good acquaintance with Ginny, but he eventually warmed up as well, just like Weasley.
"Didn't really believe you'd come…" Harry came out of the kitchen, his glasses slightly foggy and an apron wrapped around his waist. He looked just like the embodiment of a houseman, so unlike the official look he wore as Head Auror.
"I prefer to spend a quiet morning tomorrow," Draco replied, his smirk growing, ignoring Ginny's nudge in his side. "You Gryffs have the tendency to ruin them."
"You ruined mine often enough," Harry replied snarkily without hesitating as he pulled his glasses off and wiped them with the hem of his apron. "But glad you could make it. Dinner is almost ready, only needs a few more minutes. I hope you're hungry."
Draco only raised his eyebrow in response, then he leaned sideways against the mantelpiece of the fireplace just as Harry shot his wife a questioning look.
"Okay, I'll leave you two to discuss whatever you need to discuss." With a sigh, Harry turned around and wandered back to the kitchen from which a heavenly smell was already escaping.
As soon as they were alone again, Ginny crossed her arms and her face turned into a more earnest pensive expression, although losing nothing of its warmth. "You have an idea what this is about, right?"
"Well, you weren't exactly subtle in your letter," Draco replied with a sigh. "The whole thing is a mess…"
She nodded in understanding. "We tried to have the chief editor redact the piece, but he said he had enough witnesses who would testify that you introduced her as your wife–"
"So much for privacy." For the briefest of moments, he narrowed his eyes and couldn't help a small growl escape his throat. "But thanks for the effort."
"Hermione almost hexed him. I think the break-up with Ron upset her more than she wants to admit, and this was just the famous last drop to make her explode."
Confused, and partly curious, he leaned forward. "They didn't split amicably? That's what she told me…"
Ginny shook her head with lips pressed into a thin line. "Well, it wasn't easy, but there wasn't any fight, if you mean that. Just awkward between them right now. Good thing he's on a mission abroad right now."
Great, Granger was taking it out on him for having her heart broken. Draco sighed. "Maybe it wasn't a good idea–"
"I'm sure you meant well… I know by now that you're a big softie under all that sarcasm."
"I should never have gotten drunk with you!" he let out in exasperation to her amusement. "I just tried to accommodate her as good as I could—full access to the family estates, all the libraries, as well as have her own residence, which wouldn't be entirely uncommon in the Malfoy family—and she thinks I try to buy her. Honestly, has she ever cared to look into anything I do these days?"
Turning slightly, Ginny nudged him with a wink. "It's not like you shout it from any rooftop, so barely anyone knows what you do for wizarding society. Believe me, Harry tried enough times to tell her that you've changed quite a bit, but when she has her own ideas about someone, it's close to impossible to change them."
"Oh, I know." Draco sighed, adding a faint smile to soften it. "And here I thought the garden party was the chance… Honestly, you should have seen her. She was gorgeous–"
"I see," Ginny said with a slow-growing smirk. "Her charms worked a little too well on you. You like her."
*Pff… Right now, she only gives me headaches."
"Dinner is ready!" Harry shouted from the kitchen from where the clatter of pans could be heard.
The kitchen smelled heavenly when Draco entered it to take a seat at the table, salivating when Harry brought the filled plates to the table. He knew that it was a rare treat to have Harry cook dinner, given his workload as Head Auror, although Ginny was usually just as busy with her training and games.
However, Draco saw that there was a fourth set of cutlery next to Harry seat, and it immediately dampened his appetite. She was supposed to be here too.
"I'm sorry for the deceit," Ginny said when she noticed his expression sitting down next to him. "I didn't want to risk you running back as soon as you knew."
"It's okay." He smiled faintly and loaded some of the green beans on his fork. "Maybe she'll listen this time…"
..
They were finished with the main course when the fireplace activated once more, announcing the arrival of their second guest. Harry immediately ran into the living room to greet her; a few tired words could be heard before they came into the kitchen.
Draco could watch the door from his seat, and with his heart racing slightly faster, he waited for them to enter.
"I'm really sorry for being late, but Talbot came in with a few urgent cases when I want—Oh." Hermione stopped mid-step as soon as she saw him, her expression immediately hardening.
"Come on, sit down. We're just having a nice dinner," Ginny said with an inviting smile as she pointed at the empty seat next to Harry, opposite herself.
"I-I don't know."
"You're going to miss out on the lamb chops," Draco said with a quiet voice, his gaze still fixed on her, yet he avoided looking her in the eyes. "I was tricked here too."
"Okay…" With that, Hermione took her seat, nervously pulling her hair into an easy bun. She looked exhausted, most likely distracting herself with work.
But at least she seemed willing to listen now.