Roses are red
Violets are blue
I don't own Harry Potter
This is sad, but true
Thank you, as always, to my beta littlered1992! I apologise for the loooonnnnggg wait between chapters; I'm hoping that it won't be as long a wait for Chapter 24, but I'm still finishing off fests and NaNoWriMo is coming. "Necessary Evil" is my priority right now and I'd really like to see it done before the end of the year...thank you so much for your ongoing support and patience! *big hugs*
As evening fell, the trio waited anxiously in the sitting room, their ears straining for the familiar rush of the Floo.
Blaise lounged on the three-seater, one foot on the ground while the other leg relaxed along the length of the couch. His demeanour was calm, but by the way he held his shoulders, stiff and slightly hunched forward, Hermione knew that he was as tense as she.
Draco had been pacing for fifteen minutes; after ten, she asked if he would like to sit down, but he hadn't responded – not even with a look – and so she fell silent again. He held his arms stiffly at his side, and with his long strides he looked as if he were marching into battle; Hermione reminded herself that in some ways, he was.
Hermione had positioned herself in the corner of the room, as far away from the fireplace as possible. She figured that Draco would need his space when meeting his parents for the first time in five years, and she wasn't sure how Lucius would react, seeing her in his home, even if she was the reason the patriarch was able to set foot in it again.
"Granger," Blaise said, his deep voice slicing through the silence like a hot knife through butter.
Hermione raised her head to look at him, and as she did so the room filled with a green glow. She gasped and stepped backwards, pressing her spine into the wall. Blaise's eyes widened and he scrambled to stand. Draco simply froze, mid-step, staring wide-eyed in to the dissipating flames.
"Hello, son." Lucius stepped through first, dressed in ragged grey robes that looked about three sizes too small. "Mister Zabini." He turned to Blaise and offered a stiff nod. "Lovely to see you."
Hermione waited with bated breath as his eyes came to rest on her poor choice of hiding place. He did not greet her, however, choosing to simply sneer and then move away from the grate, watching it expectantly.
Draco still hadn't moved.
The Floo roared to life again, and this time two Ministry official wizards stepped out, a limp figure floating behind them.
Suddenly, Draco lunged forward, knocking Lucius sideways and almost colliding with one of the officials. "Mother!" He choked. "What have you done to her?"
He did not look up from his position, kneeling beside the unresponsive form of Narcissa as she floated horizontally, a foot from the floor.
"We need you to sign this," the official said. He held a wooden clipboard towards Draco, who ignored him. His hands fluttered over his mother, over her face, her hands, readjusting her flimsy prison-issued sack.
Why hadn't they changed her?
"Draco?" Lucius drawled. "The quicker you sign, the quicker they can leave."
Hermione did not miss the way Lucius directed his statement to her.
"Draco?" Blaise tried, moving slowly towards the blond, his hands raised in a surrender.
Silence.
Hermione pushed herself off from the wall and came up behind him. Softly, she placed a shaking hand on his shoulder. He jumped slightly but did not make to throw it off.
"Draco," she whispered. "You need to sign -"
"Alright!" he snarled. He snatched the clipboard, used the proffered quill to quickly scribble his name on the dotted line, and then stood, thrusting the piece of wood into the chest of the guard. "Now get out."
The officials nodded to Hermione, and then departed via the Floo. As soon as they were gone, Lucius stepped up to Draco.
"We need to get her to our quarters." He nodded down at Narcissa but did not look at her. "I trust you've prepared them?"
"Miksy has," Draco said, his voice strained. "I'll take her up."
Shakily, he pulled his wand from his back pocket. Hermione watched as Lucius eyed it hungrily; an uneasy feeling twisted in her gut, but there was no time to analyse it, as Draco reversed the spell that was keeping Narcissa afloat. Gently, he lowered her to the ground, before pocketing his wand and stooping to collect her frail form in his arms.
As he raised himself into a standing position, he met Hermione's gaze. She was unable to stop the tears from cascading down her cheeks as he held his mother, the tenderness coupled with the unfairness of it all too much for her heart to handle.
"Wait for me?" It was barely a whisper, but Hermione heard it and nodded in response. Without looking back, he swept from the room.
"Well, Granger," Blaise said, moving towards her. "You did it. Well done."
"Thank you." She used the back of her hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "I just hope Narcissa is okay."
He did not respond to that, his lips settling into a thin line. "I'm going to head up to bed, give you guys some privacy. Are you okay on your own until Draco gets back?"
"Of course." She nodded. "Thank you…for everything."
Blaise shrugged as he began to walk backwards. "You're welcome." With that he turned on his heel, and Hermione was left alone.
She was unsure whether she should continue standing where she was, or whether she should take a seat. She didn't want to appear too at home, still uncertain where she stood with the blond wizard after everything that had transpired in the last week and a half. Of course, it seemed silly – his letters had been warm and frequent, but…
Hermione sighed and moved quickly toward her armchair. She folded herself into it, trying not to feel too impatient. Of course, she understood that Draco needed time with his mother; she wanted that for them, too. But she couldn't help feeling on edge as she waited.
After what felt like a lifetime had passed, footsteps finally sounded down the hallway. Hermione stood, a small smile playing at the edges of her mouth as they came closer. She prepared herself to welcome him with a pleasant expression, folding her hands in front of her so she wouldn't be tempted to fidget, a sure sign that she was nervous.
But it wasn't Draco who rounded the corner.
"Miss Granger." Hermione's smile fell as Lucius greeted her, an all too familiar smirk on his face. "I believe we have a few things to discuss."
"Oh?" Hermione quirked an eyebrow, the frustration that had been slowly building as she waited for Draco finally bubbling over. "Would you like to start with the grovelling, or end with it?"
His smirk slipped, his expression becoming one of disgust. "Excuse me?"
"I'm sorry." Hermione sneered. "I thought I'd just freed your entire family from the fate of rotting to death inside Azkaban; was that a dream I concocted?"
"There's no need to be so dramatic, Miss Granger," he hissed. "I am eternally grateful for your help in freeing my family. However -" he stepped closer to her, readjusting the cuffs on his robes "– dating my son was never part of the bargain."
"Funny," Hermione spat, folding her arms across her chest. "I don't remember reading that in the non-existent contract."
His hands dropped back to his sides and Lucius drew himself up to his full height. A voice in the back of Hermione's mind told her that she ought to be cowering under such a cold gaze, but the thin man in front of her did little to present an ominous figure.
He might have changed into his good robes, and he'd clearly showered, shaved, and combed his hair. But that didn't make a skerrick of difference given that a strong wind could make short work of him - and he was wandless.
"He is to be betrothed," he bit out, "and you will not stand in the way of it."
"Does he know this?" Hermione countered. "Because I think, after everything Draco has been through, he's earned the right to choose what his future holds."
"I appreciate your concern, Miss Granger." Lucius' gaze was as cold as ice, and despite her warm ire, Hermione couldn't prevent the shiver as it ran up her spine. "Draco might think he knows what he wants, for now, but rest assured, what's best for him is to not lower himself to the standard of getting involved -" his mouth twisted around the word as if he were likely to gag on it "- with a Muggleborn."
Hermione squinted her eyes, canting her head as if trying to solve a rather difficult puzzle. "You speak as though you were merely asleep for the duration of the Second Wizarding War," she whispered.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Mister Malfoy," she answered in the same soft, deadly tone, "I fought very hard, risking the my own life, and the lives of those I hold most dear, to prove that I am not some second-rate witch, and I am definitely -" she punctuated the word by pointing her finger at him "– not someone your son has to lower himself to."
"I don't expect you to understand." He shrugged. "Now, please leave. I'm tired of this conversation and I wish to return to my wife."
"I'm waiting for Draco," Hermione said through gritted teeth.
He fixed her with a simpering look. "Draco won't be coming down tonight. He's refusing to leave Narcissa's bedside. Perhaps try owling tomorrow."
Lucius leered then, mirth dancing in his eyes as Hermione's face drained of all colour. Part of her wanted to stay, to show the arrogant, bigoted bully that Draco wouldn't stand for the bullshit he had just spun…but then, she realised that Draco probably did need more time with his mother, and though she longed to see him, hug him, and find out just how grave the Narcissa's condition was, she finally decided that perhaps a new dawn was what was needed here.
"Fine," she growled, collecting her things. "But I'm not leaving because you asked me to; I'm leaving out of respect for Draco."
Lucius did not respond, but continued to smirk as she stepped into the fireplace with a handful of Floo powder, and then whirled away.
"Lucius?" Draco called, not two seconds later.
"How is she?" he asked, his eyes still fixed on the grate.
"Fine." Draco yawned as he entered the sitting room. "Where's Granger?"
"She had to leave." He turned slowly, frowning as he took in the look on Draco's face. "Come now," he chided, "involving yourself with someone like Miss Granger is incredibly stupid, son, even for you."
Draco's fists clenched at his side. "I do hope," he started, an edge to his tone, "that you didn't drive her away, because I would like you to know that I have every intention of dating Granger, and embracing wherever that may lead in the future."
Lucius scoffed. "You're a fool."
"I don't care what you think." Draco shook his head, meaning the words for the first time in his life. "I'm going to – "
Crack!
Miksy suddenly appeared between them, her eyes wide and fretful. "Master!" she squeaked. "Masters!"
"What is it, Miksy?" Draco asked, with some impatience.
"It is Mistress, Master Draco!" The elf began to wring her hands together at lightning speed. "She is not breathing right!"
Draco took off behind the elf, racing towards the wing he had left his mother in. Lucius only watched as his son disappeared, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. If things continued to go this way for Narcissa, Lucius would not have to try very hard to keep Draco out of Miss Granger's clutches at all…
Over the next four days, Hermione sent Draco more than ten owls, of which he returned none. In the beginning, she was able to tell herself that he was just busy with his mother; he hadn't seen her in five years, after all. Hermione knew that if it were possible to reverse the memories of her parents, she'd want plenty of alone time with them.
But then the doubts began to trickle in. Surely, he would have had five minutes to spare, to reply to even one of her letters? Had Lucius been right? Perhaps having his parents back again had shed some new light on Draco's perception of her – of them?
She shook her head and stripped out of her Ministry robes, thankful that it was Friday night. With a wave of her wand, the bottle of wine on the counter began to pour itself into a large glass, and she gratefully swallowed a large mouthful.
As she relished the tang on her tongue, Hermione unzipped her skirt and let it fall to her ankles. She stepped out of it, took another mouthful of wine, and tapped her fingernails against the glass as she held it against her lips.
I could go over there, she thought. If he kicks me out, at least I'll know where I stand…
Acknowledging this thought, Hermione hurried to her bedroom. She pulled on a comfortable pair of jeans, shucked her blouse and replaced it with a plain sweater, and then slid her feet into a pair of ballet flats. She was back in front of her fireplace within five minutes, taking the Floo powder from the mantel before throwing it into the flames and stepping into the emerald glow.
"Malfoy Manor!" she called.
Her living room spun away, and she squeezed her eyes shut as foreign grates flashed before them. Within seconds, it was over, and she landed in the Malfoy sitting room.
Her first realisation was that Draco was there, standing in the middle of the room. The second, was that he was kissing Pansy Parkinson.
The blood drained from her face, pooling in her stomach until it felt as though she had been kicked in the torso. Her breath left her in a choked and forceful exhale and she staggered back until she clutched the mantel, the noise causing the kissing couple to break apart.
"Granger!" Draco spun on his heel and stumbled towards her, bracing himself on an armchair as he moved.
Speechless for the first time in her life, Hermione simply shook her head, grabbed the pot of Floo powder from behind her, and threw a handful into the grate.
"Twelve Grimmauld Place!" she shouted, and seconds later she was gone.
"What the hell, Parkinson?" Draco growled, rounding on the dark-haired witch as soon as the fireplace was silent again.
"What?" She raised an eyebrow innocently.
"You know exactly what," Draco spat. "Why did you kiss me?"
"Come off of it, Draco," she scoffed. "This hard-to-get game is becoming rather tiresome."
"You're certifiably insane." He shook his head and made to walk past her, towards his room.
Pansy grabbed on to his sleeve as he came level with her. "Your Father means to marry you off," she hissed, her eyes now cold. "I thought you'd rather it be to someone you know you can stand; or would you prefer Astoria?" She cocked her head to the side, regarding him from beneath her eyelashes.
"Let go, Pansy," he said through gritted teeth. "I thought we could be friends, but obviously you are so deluded that you think -"
"I'm deluded?" she squeaked. "I'm not the one pretending that it's a good idea to openly date a Muggleborn -" she spat the word as if it were the most disgusting curse imaginable "– if you want to talk about delusion, Draco, how about you start -?"
"Just let go!" he roared, snatching his sleeve from her grip. "Show yourself out," he said, finally making it to the hallway, not bothering to look back as he left her standing in the middle of the room.
Fuming, he made it up the first flight of stairs before his way was blocked by Lucius.
"What do you want?" he snarled, coming to stand in front of his father.
"Manners, Draco," Lucius drawled. "I heard a commotion. Is everything okay with Miss Parkinson?"
Draco's eyes narrowed, and his hands balled into fists at his side. "Did you set that up?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Pansy -" Draco pointed behind him in the general direction of the sitting room "- did you set that up – the kiss – Granger -?" His breathing was ragged now, but Lucius only looked disinterested.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said softly, peering down his nose at Draco. "I was actually coming to find you, to discuss your betrothal to Astoria Greengrass."
"What?" Draco shouted, throwing his arms wide.
"Come now." Lucius simpered. "We need to rebuild the Malfoy name, and the Greengrasses are -"
"Not the witches I intend to marry!" Draco interjected hotly. "If you'll excuse me, Lucius, I'm actually on my way to -"
"Miss Granger?" Lucius' mouth twisted. "I'm afraid she's going to have to wallow in her obvious inferiority for just a bit longer. The contract has been signed by both parties," he continued when Draco simply locked his jaw and folded his arms across his chest. "Once your mother wakes, the preparation for the ceremony will begin."
"And if I refuse?" Draco tilted his chin upwards in defiance.
"You won't," Lucius spat. "This is what's best for the family, Draco, and let me tell you, your life will be much easier once you understand that." With one last cold glare, the older Malfoy sauntered down the stairs in a languid fashion which contradicted the way he had just spoken to his son.
Draco watched him go, shaking his head slowly, until his father's retreating back had disappeared towards the library. Turning on his heel, Draco hurried towards his room and summoned his owl. He suspected that Hermione wouldn't be home yet, and if she was, she most definitely would have changed her wards to ensure he would not be able to get in. A letter, as cowardly and unfulfilling as it was, would have to suffice…for now.
"I just don't understand." Hermione hiccupped, nursing a lukewarm cup of tea in her hands.
"I'm not surprised." Ginny arched an eyebrow as she took in Hermione's tear stained face.
"What?"
"You didn't bother to wait for an explanation." The red-haired witch shrugged. "It's no wonder you don't understand."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not trying to be a bitch." She sighed. "But don't you think you may have overreacted?"
"He was kissing her, Ginny…I don't know what an appropriate reaction is to that. He hasn't spoken to me in two weeks, except for letters – and they've stopped – and, I could have -"
"Stop." Ginny held up a hand to punctuate the syllable. "Hermione, I'm not saying that he's innocent. Maybe he does want Pansy Parkinson -" Hermione blanched "- but what if there's more to the story? What if there's an explanation that proves his innocence? I mean, it's Pansy Parkinson ; from what you've told me about her, it's plausible that she accosted him, and you simply walked in at the wrong time."
"Or right time," Hermione muttered, though her attitude was beginning to change.
"Whatever." Ginny waved a hand. "But the Hermione I know would get all the facts before stumbling out of my Floo in hysterics."
"I don't think she exists anymore, Gin." Hermione wiped her face with the back of her hands and stood from the table. "But thank you, for the advice and the tea."
Ginny shrugged, standing as well. "My mum always says that anything can be fixed with a cup of tea."
"I remember." Hermione smiled, and for the first time in weeks she felt relaxed, knowing that the rift between her, Ginny, and Harry was on the mend.
When Hermione returned home, she was met by the haughty stare of Draco's owl. She sighed; she should have expected this. She hadn't changed the wards, though that had been her intention when she left Malfoy Manor.
While she knew she had to go and face him, she found that the thought of doing so twisted something uncomfortably in her gut. The owl hooted, flying over to where she stood fidgeting by the lounge.
"Fine," she sighed, taking the letter from its proffered leg. "Let's see what he has to say then."
She sat on the three-seater, letting her legs rest along the length of it.
Dear Hermione,
I'm sorry for what you witnessed this morning. Please know that it wasn't what it looked like. I would never kiss Pansy voluntarily; she's simply delusional about the status of our relationship, and Lucius isn't helping matters.
I'd really like to continue this conversation in person; we have a lot to discuss, and I have a few things to apologise for…number one being that I haven't contacted you since Mother came home.
Please come to the Manor as soon as you get this (I don't care if it's the middle of the night) so that I may have the chance to grovel properly. I've opened the wards so that you may Apparate directly into my bedroom.
Yours,
DM
Hermione read the letter over three times, her heart leaping at the use of her first name. He had obviously been in a rush, given the terrible penmanship, but she didn't care; Ginny was right – he hadn't been kissing Parkinson willingly.
She glanced up, looking for the owl with the intent of writing a response, but the bird had left sometime during her readings of the letter; apparently he was not expecting her word. She sighed heavily, stood and walked to her kitchen, placing the letter on the counter. She drummed her fingers atop the laminate and then began pacing around the island, staring at the piece of parchment as if unsure of what to do with herself.
Of course she wanted to go over there; she wanted to hear exactly how Parkinson's lips became fused with Draco's…
But, she thought, frowning, though an apology is warranted, I really don't want to have to explain my outrageous jealousy just yet…our relationship is so fragile, and he'll never let me live it down.
Eventually, though, Hermione had to admit she had left Draco to sweat it out for long enough. If he had not done anything wrong – and Hermione desperately wanted to believe that this was the case – it was only fair for her to go to the Manor and listen to his explanation.
And apologise for my reaction, she reminded herself with a grimace.
When she finally Apparated into Draco's bedroom, it was closing in on midnight. She had been a little taken aback when he'd suggested meeting in his room, given the connotation for potential debauchery, but supposed he was unwilling to be interrupted. It made sense in her logical brain…but when she arrived in the middle of a large, green room (besides resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the obvious colour scheme), Hermione could not understand why it was completely dark.
"Draco?" she called in a whisper, blinking rapidly to adjust to the sudden blindness. "Hello?"
She frowned; his letter had very explicitly said he would be awaiting her in his room, so why -?
Hurried footsteps drew Hermione's attention to where she assumed the door stood. A crack of yellow light appeared, framing a tall shadow before the door clicked shut and everything went black again.
Hermione fumbled in her pocket for her wand. "Lumos!" she hissed, her hand shaking slightly as she held it straight out in front of her.
The tip was an inch from his chest, the light casting an eery glow over his agitated features. His face was as white as a sheet and his hair mussed to the point of total disarray; Hermione only had a moment to think that it was completely unlike the Draco she knew to greet her in such a state, but before she could ask if he was okay, he started rambling, his eyes wide and devoid of everything but sheer terror.
"My mother," he garbled. "Granger, my mother – she's not well – not warm – please, help!"