Chapter Eight

Hermione was pleasantly surprised to find that she got along well with Narcissa Malfoy. And while she was having a wonderful time conversing about the strange pureblood customs and their unbelievable Muggle equivalents, she felt a bit ill at ease. Draco had been acting so distant since they'd arrived at the manor, and it was really bothering her. Of course, she did her best not to let it show, even to herself. She wasn't supposed to be falling for Draco in this whole scheme. So she told herself she didn't care one whit what he did.

Except she did care.

After the house-elves had cleared away the leftovers from tea, Draco excused himself, saying he had some "business" to attend to. Hermione shrugged it away and returned her attention to Narcissa.

"Mrs. Malfoy, may I ask you something?"

"Oh, please call me Narcissa, darling," she responded. "And yes, you may ask me a question."

"I hope it doesn't offend you," Hermione started, "but Draco told me your health has been troubling you lately, and I was wondering what was going on."

Narcissa nodded. "Yes, I'll admit it's a touchy subject," she said. "But I don't mind discussing it with you, as I trust nothing will leave this room."

"You have my word," Hermione promised. "I'm actually interested in becoming a Healer after I graduate, so if there's anything I can do to help you, I want to do it."

She smiled. "I assume Draco told you that other Healers have suggested my ailment is a result of lingering Dark magic that I've been exposed to?"

"Yes, but that sounds preposterous," Hermione said. "I've never heard of such a thing."

"Nor have I," Narcissa agreed. "Personally, I believe it's some kind of curse that activated when Lucius died in Azkaban."

Hermione gasped in horror. "He cursed you?"

"You mistake me, my dear," Narcissa corrected with a shake of her head. "I don't believe he meant it quite like that." She sighed wistfully. "As bad as Lucius seemed at times, he really did love me very much, and I him. He often told me that he never wanted to be apart, in life or death, and I believe he may have cast the spell when we were first married without knowing exactly what it did."

Hermione pursed her lips. "You must know that I have a bit of a hard time believing that, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."

"I understand," Narcissa acquiesced.

"All right, so if we go forward assuming you were cursed, then your symptoms should help in identifying what it was. Do you mind discussing that with me?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

Narcissa smiled softly. "No, I don't mind. And Hermione, please know that I'm not upset that you are uncertain of Lucius's motives. I know he was only ever hostile with you, and it must be hard for you to reconcile the Lucius that I knew with the one you knew."

"Thank you, Narcissa. You truly are a forgiving woman."

"I should say the same to you. I never dared to think that you of all people would be willing to forgive me the things I've done."

Hermione smiled. "There's no point living in the past now, is there?"

"Indeed." Narcissa sat up straighter with a bit of a wince and rested her hands in her lap. "Now, as for my symptoms."

"Yes," Hermione said hastily. "Let's go through those."

"Primarily, I struggle most with low energy. Most days I can't even get out of bed, but I do make more of an effort on Sundays to see Draco. Aside from that, I have soreness just about everywhere, my eyesight is often blurry, and on occasion I black out for long periods of time."

"I see. Anything else?"

Narcissa shook her head. "Not that I can think of right now, no."

"All right. Well, I have some suspicions as to what it could be, but I'd like to do some research before I let you know. Is that okay with you?" Hermione asked.

Narcissa surprised her and leaned forward to pull her into a hug. "I'm just grateful that someone's taking me seriously for once," she murmured. "Thank you so much. You are truly a treasure."

Hermione blushed as Narcissa pulled back. "I'm sure you say that to all the girls Draco brings home," she deflected.

Narcissa gave her an odd look. "What other girls? Why, you're the first one he's ever brought home, dear."

Hermione was shocked into silence and didn't get the chance to respond before Draco had reentered the room.

"Hermione, will you join me on a walk?" he asked.

She glanced once more at Narcissa, then stood up. "Sure, I'd love to."

Draco took her hand as they left the sunroom and headed for the front door again. They spent the first several minutes in a rather comfortable silence, walking across the manor's grounds and out into the lush fields surrounding the property. Even as they walked casually down a dirt trail through a field of wildflowers, Hermione got the distinct feeling that Draco had something he wanted to talk about. Finally, she couldn't stand the silence anymore.

"Was there something you needed to talk about?"

Draco stopped, released her hand, and turned to face her. Indecision warred across his features for a long time before he burst out, "Did you know that most of Wiltshire was actually founded by the Malfoy family?"

She raised an eyebrow, certain that this was not what had been on his mind. But she decided to play along. Perhaps he'd get to it if she was patient. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah, my family's lived in this area for centuries."

He went quiet again after that and resumed walking down the path at a leisurely pace. Hermione stared at his back for a while. Maybe he wouldn't say what was on his mind.

"Draco, wait," she called out.

He stopped, but didn't turn around.

"What aren't you telling me?"

She watched his shoulders droop in resignation. He slowly faced her and retraced his steps back to where she stood. After a long moment spent in silence, he looked up and met her gaze.

"I—" He paused, sighed, and began again. "I'm just a bit overwhelmed with this whole thing between us." He feebly waved his hand back and forth to indicate the two of them.

Hermione sighed. She understood all too well. "I know. We've only been together for a few days, but I've still never felt like this before."

He nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off when a loud rumble of thunder sounded overhead. He looked up at the sky with wide eyes, then reached for her hand and began running back toward the manor.

"It's going to rain, come on!"

"Wait, Draco, why don't we just Apparate back?" Hermione called as she stumbled after him.

"Can't!" he called over his shoulder. "The wards won't let us!"

They barely made it to the edge of the wildflower field before the skies opened above them and rain began to pour down. Hermione was soaked within mere minutes, and her hair began to frizz up in the worst way. It took far longer than it should have to reach the manor again, as the road had become muddy from the rain. Their feet squelched through the muck, fighting against the wetness that threatened to drag them down.

Hermione shrieked when a particularly large mud puddle swallowed her shoe. She dropped Draco's hand and spun around to retrieve it, only to lose her balance. She felt Draco's hand grab at her elbow, but her forward momentum was too much for him to stop, and he went tumbling into the mud with her.

For a moment, she stared into Draco's eyes in shock. His gaze roamed her face, and suddenly his face split in a wide smile as he began to laugh. Hermione glared at him halfheartedly for a split second, and then she was laughing, too. He looked positively ridiculous the way he was covered from head to toe in the nearly-black mud. His white-blonde hair was nearly black, and there was a great glob of dirt sitting on the bridge of his nose. She reached up to wipe it away, but the mud on her own fingers wound up smearing it over his cheek. She laughed harder.

Draco finally rolled off of her and struggled to his feet. He fished her missing shoe out of the mud, then helped her to stand. She put her shoe back on, causing more mud to squish out between her toes. Then, still laughing, they walked the rest of the way back to the manor.

When they stepped into the grand foyer, Draco cast a spell on the floor to repel the mud and water dripping from their clothes and shoes, then led her by the hand down a hallway, up a flight of stairs, and into a bedroom.

Hermione looked around, certain that this room decorated in shades of green and silver belonged to the man holding her hand. If she hadn't been sure before, the shelf above his bed filled with various miniature dragons—like the one Harry received during the Triwizard Tournament's first task—was a dead giveaway. Each of the small figurines was wandering around the shelf, wrestling with its shelf-mates, or blowing harmless sparks out its nose.

"You can clean up in here," Draco said, startling her from her admiration of the tiny dragons.

Hermione turned to face him, and he was indicating a cavernous room beyond an archway. She walked in, even more in awe of her surroundings. The bathroom was nothing but tiles made up of emeralds and precious silver ores. All of the fixtures were made of steel, carved into the shape of dragons with emeralds for eyes. As she watched, the dragons writhed in their casings.

Draco walked over to a bathtub that rivaled the one in the prefects' bathroom at Hogwarts. He twisted a few taps, and warm, soapy water began gushing from the faucet.

"Er, towels are in the cupboard over there," he said, pointing to a hinged mirror. "And, er, holler if you need anything."

Hermione nodded her head, suddenly overcome with a wave of melancholy. She sank onto a bench resting against the wall perpendicular to the tub and dropped her head into her hands. Unbidden, a small sob escaped her mouth.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" Draco asked, a hint of alarm coloring his tone.

She simply shook her head as tears began coursing down her cheeks. She couldn't explain it to herself, let alone to him. Draco knelt on the tile at her feet and put his hands on her knees. He peeked up at her through her fingers.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

She dropped her hands to her lap and looked up at him through tear-swollen eyes. "I have no idea," she whispered.

Draco laughed incredulously. "What?"

"It's just . . . your mother . . . before you came back into the sunroom, we were talking, and she hugged me. She really hugged me. For telling her I'd do research! I just—" Another sob cut her off, and she swiped at the tears on her face with a strange mix of sadness and frustration.

"Hermione . . ." Draco looked at her like he was worried for her sanity. "It was just a hug."

She swallowed back her tears and nodded her head. As she stared into his eyes, the butterflies she'd been fighting with for days rebelled and seemed to set her stomach on fire. Draco's eyes were molten steel, and his gaze seemed to burn right through her. She felt the sudden inexplicable urge to lean forward and kiss him. She tamped down the feeling instead, keeping her eyes locked on his.

Draco's gaze flicked to her lips and back up, then again. He swallowed hard, licked his own lips, and appeared to decide something. Hermione's heart thudded in anticipation as he leaned forward ever so slowly and kissed her.

The kiss was brief, hesitant. He pulled back almost immediately and returned his gaze to hers. His eyes held a question, and in that moment, she wanted to scream "yes!" to the heavens. She leaned forward in answer and pressed her lips against his once more. Her arms went around his neck, and she threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. He deepened the kiss, and Hermione dragged her hands down his front and let them wander underneath the hem of his shirt and against the bare skin of his chest. Draco groaned and broke the kiss so she could pull the shirt over his head. She happily obliged.

Hermione was certain her head was going to explode from the multitude of emotions rushing through her. The logical side of her brain told her to stop what was happening. Instead, she stood up, pulling Draco with her, and pressed herself as close to him as she could get. His hands roamed around to the back of her dress and lithely unzipped it. She stepped back the smallest bit to let the dress pool at her feet.

Draco stared at her like a starving man staring at a Thanksgiving feast. And then they were hurriedly shedding the rest of their clothes and falling into the bathtub, kissing all the while. Draco fumbled behind him for the knob that would shut off the water. Hermione somehow decided through her lust-hazed mind that she wanted this—that she wanted to give this to him. She had only been dating him for five days, but it felt like her whole life had been leading to this moment where she would give Draco Malfoy her virginity and her heart.

So she did.