Roses are red
Violets are blue
I don't own Harry Potter
This is sad, but true
Thanks as always to ravenclaw-sass and littlered1992 ?
We're getting so close to the end guys! I'm excited and nervous to mark this complete! *squee*
The Healers appeared in the fireplace within minutes of Hermione sending a Patronus. Draco was momentarily shocked at the appearance of a pearly white otter, but soon recovered as he realised what its purpose was. If he hadn't been so preoccupied with keeping his mother alert, he would have kissed Hermione for her quick-thinking and constant support.
The women were wearing pyjamas and dressing gowns in place of their robes; it was Christmas Day, after all, and it was still very early in the morning. They hovered over his mother, asking her questions which she was able to respond to. Her voice was very weak and she was often taken by long bouts of coughing fits which prevented her from saying much of anything, and Draco was reminded of his own hoarseness after his release.
His heart soared in his chest as the minutes wore into hours and his mother was still awake. As the sun rose in the sky and shone through the window, the Healers turned to Draco and asked to speak with him privately.
"Well," the older one of the pair said, "it appears our fears have been assuaged; your mother is still very weak and it will take time for her to regain her physical strength; however, it appears that she has full use of her mental capacities." She turned to look over her shoulder, where the sound of whisper-quiet laughter was coming from the bed.
Hermione was perched in a chair which she had pulled against the mattress, and she was helping his mother into a sitting position. Draco's chest threatened to burst as he felt a warm light radiate out from his heart and seep into his bones.
"Thank you," he said with a wide smile. He shook both of their hands and then wished them a happy Christmas before returning to the bed.
"Draco," his mother said, one of her arms reaching for him. He crawled onto the mattress and settled himself beside her, leaning against the headboard.
Her skin was warm for the first time since she had returned from Azkaban, and Draco allowed his mother to pull him into her his side, unashamed of what sort of picture this would paint to Hermione.
His witch stood as his mother dropped a weak kiss on to his cheek, her arm hanging limp across his shoulders. Hermione cleared her throat, a warm smile on her face as she gazed down at them. "Well, I think I'll leave you to it—" she began, but his mother cut her off.
"Nonsense!" His mother waved a hand in a way that he was certain would exhaust her. "I insist, Miss Granger; please sit down."
Hermione returned to her seat, her smile still on her face, though her eyes searched Draco's momentarily as if seeking permission. He nodded once to her.
"Now," his mother whispered, taking her arm back from Draco's shoulders and glancing up at him. "What's this I overheard about a wedding?"
"Mother, no." Draco shook his head. "Not yet; you need to focus on resting."
"And how am I to achieve that, Draco?" she replied, her tone surprisingly sharp. "I overheard something about a wedding that concerns you and a witch you have no romantic feelings for. If I'm to sit idly by while this happens, I should think I'll fall into another coma!"
"Alright!" Draco rolled his eyes and moved so that he was sitting at the end of the bed, facing his mother and Hermione. Glad to see Azkaban hasn't squashed Mother's flame, he thought wryly. "It's true," he said. "Lucius has betrothed me to Astoria Greengrass."
His mother frowned. "Greengrass?" she echoed. "Interesting. And what clauses has your father placed in the contract?"
"There's no death clause, Mother," he answered quietly.
His mother's shoulders sagged in relief and she took a moment to readjust herself against the pillows, with the help of Hermione.
"Well," she said finally, "that's good news."
Draco hummed in agreement, but his mother's comment did nothing to quell the familiar feeling of dread which swirled in his stomach. "We've tried to find a way out of the contract." He gestured between himself and Hermione. "So far, we haven't found anything, and if I'm being honest—" his gaze dropped to his lap "—I don't think there is a way out."
His mother scoffed. "Of course there is, Draco." He lifted his head slowly; his mother had just woken up...he didn't want to argue with her or explain the complexity of the contract which would undoubtedly prove her wrong.
He smiled weakly at her. "Well," he said, "if anyone could find a way out, it's Hermione here." He nodded towards his witch, who offered him a small smile of gratitude. "And so far...nothing." He shrugged.
"I believe that," his mother agreed. "However, I have a few more tricks at my disposal, and years of dealing with Lucius as a husband. I won't allow the marriage to proceed, son."
Draco exhaled slowly through his lips. He daren't allow the beginnings of hope to settle in his heart as he took in the determined look on his mother's face. But damn it all if what she was saying wasn't the lifeboat he longed to jump on to.
"I'll need to speak to a lawyer," his mother said, breaking him out of his trance. "I'm not sure if Herbert Holt will agree to help us, but—"
"He won't," Hermione interjected. The brunette witch glanced between Draco and his mother and seemed to realise that her comment may be construed as rude. "I mean," she continued quickly, a delicious blush crawling up her cheeks, "I know him personally, and he refused to help when I asked him to get you out of Azkaban." She licked her lips and tucked a hair behind her ear. "But I can pull a few strings at work; it pays to be the Head of Department." She smirked as she met Draco's eyes and he could not remember ever feeling so proud of another human being in all of his life.
A broad grin stretched his features as he turned back to his mother. "What do you say, Mother?" he asked.
"How soon can you pull these strings, Miss Granger?"
"This afternoon," Hermione affirmed. "It may be Christmas, but a few owls to the right people will have them here by tomorrow at the latest."
"Tomorrow is perfect."
"I'll return home and get straight on to it then."
Hermione stood and locked eyes with Draco. She jerked as if she meant to walk towards him and then stopped herself. Was she concerned about saying goodbye to him properly? He smirked as he rose to stand as well, reaching out as she moved to walk past him and wrapped his arms around her waist. She stumbled against his chest and he ran his thumb in a soothing circle on her lower back as he kissed her possessively.
"Thank you," he murmured against her lips.
"You're welcome," she breathed back.
And then she was gone.
"So…" His mother's voice brought him back to the present, his grin only widening as he took in the arch of her pale blonde eyebrow. "You and Miss Granger are—"
"Dating, yes," Draco said happily, making his way to the chair Hermione had just vacated.
"And you're serious about her?"
"Very serious."
His mother was silent for a long time. Draco feared that maybe she had fallen asleep with her eyes open, but then she said, "I like her."
Draco laughed, relief crashing over him and turning his bones to liquid.
It was decided that Draco would attend the ball to be held in his honour despite the fact that Hermione had owled to confirm that the lawyer would be visiting tomorrow morning. His mother had told him that it was important to keep up appearances so that his father would not suspect anything. After so many weeks of being crushed by his father's iron fist, Draco was only too happy to participate in a plan that would pull the wool over Lucius' eyes.
The party was an extravagant affair. Draco had to hand it to his father; he knew how to celebrate. Lucius was missing from the party, but Draco only noticed this when Astoria, dressed in a ridiculously large gown made of burgundy silk, pointed it out. He brushed it off, stating that his father often disappeared early to drink alone in his study. The lie passed his lips easily, but he spent the rest of the party looking for the tell-tale platinum pony-tail, itching to send an owl to Hermione to tell her of this development.
As things turned out, he didn't have the chance because as the House Elves ushered the last of the party goers from the manor when the sun was rising over the southern forest. Draco's eyes itched with exhaustion as he dragged himself up the stairs, thinking only of taking off his shoes and collapsing into his bed.
As he closed the door to his bedroom behind him, he sighed gratefully and lifted his gaze to his bed, only to find that there was someone already sitting on it.
"Good morning." Hermione arched an eyebrow, a soft smirk playing around the corners of her mouth.
He groaned, half in relief and half in frustration. "Please tell me we have time for a short nap before the lawyer arrives."
Hermione chuckled and held out her hand, which he took. She tugged him towards her, her fingers sliding up his arms to his neck, where she deftly undid his tie and threw it on the ground. "Yes," she whispered, beginning to unbutton his shirt.
In any other moment, Draco would have reacted immediately and taken her against the mattress, but exhaustion had set in and it was all he could do to remain upright as she pushed the garment down his arms.
She then set to work on his belt and rid him of his pants, so that he stood before her in his boxer shorts. She shuffled slightly so that she was laying on the far side of the bed and patted the mattress beside her. Draco mumbled his thanks and fell in to the silky sheets, magically warmed thanks to his amazing witch.
He mumbled something as he fell asleep, his mind far too laden with alcohol and weariness to register what he had said. He vaguely noted Hermione's sharp intake of breath before he fell into a dreamless sleep.
Hermione tried to sleep while Draco slumbered beside her, but the garbled admission he had made just before he drifted off rattled around inside her head like a particularly loud housefly.
I love you.
It had been barely there. The lightest of declarations; the heaviest of statements. Hermione wasn't even sure how she felt about the blond wizard. She knew she cared for him, obviously, but did she love him? And if she did, was she ready to tell him as much?
Luckily, she did not have to lay frozen in her thoughts for too long, as nine 'o'clock arrived quickly.
"Five more minutes." Draco groaned as he opened one eye blearily.
"Come on, Sleeping Beauty." Hermione planted a smacking kiss on his cheek and then scrambled from the bed. "The lawyer will be here any minute now and we need to make sure your father isn't the one who greets him."
That seemed to wake Draco up far more than a cold shower would have, and he was up and dressed in a matter of seconds.
The lawyer was a middle-aged man dressed in a tweed suit. He stood in front of the small mirror hanging on the wall of the sitting room, his fingers wrapped around a tendril of hair in the middle of his forehead. He tugged at the black lock, attempting to get it to stay where he wanted until he caught sight of Hermione and Draco in the reflection.
"Hello," he greeted them, his smile wide as if he hadn't just been caught preening himself in the mirror. "Cliff Douglas." He took Draco's hand first and shook it before turning to Hermione. "Miss Granger, lovely to see you again."
Hermione nodded. "Thank you for coming on such short notice, and over Christmas."
"Not at all," he said, flashing a toothy smile. "Where would you like to chat?" He glanced around the airy sitting room, both hands now gripping the handle of his briefcase.
"We will need to adjourn to my mother's room." Draco pointed towards the hallway and let his arm stay there as he continued. "She's still not able to get out of bed, and she's the one who wishes to speak with you."
"Lead the way."
They made their way in silence through the manor and towards Narcissa's room. Hermione's heart sat in her throat the whole time; Lucius had an uncanny knack for turning up precisely when you didn't want him to, and she was convinced that he would be standing around every corner.
As they arrived at the door to Narcissa's suite, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. They had met no human nor creature in the few minutes it took them to get to their destination. Primarily, Hermione felt grateful, but there was a small voice in the back of her head that was questioning why the manor was so quiet after the hustle and bustle of the past few weeks.
"Good morning," Narcissa greeted them. She was propped up against the headboard, a nest of pillows supporting her small frame. Her cheeks were tinted pink, and Hermione noted that it was the most colour she had seen on Draco's mother since she had been released from Azkaban. Her blue eyes assessed each of them as they entered the room, shrewd and piercing.
"Mrs Malfoy." Mister Douglas bowed low.
After introductions, Hermione waved her wand and set up two chairs on the right side of the bed, next to Narcissa. She turned to Draco. "I'll leave you to it," she murmured, and took two steps back towards the doorway.
"Miss Granger!" Narcissa called. "Please, stay." She gestured towards the chairs Draco and Mister Douglas were settling into.
"Are you sure?" Hermione hesitated, one hand still reaching for the door handle.
Narcissa arched an eyebrow, every part the aristocratic matriarch. She nodded once and Hermione smiled in response; her heart leapt in her chest at the thought that Draco's mother wanted her to witness such a private moment.
"What can I help you with?" Mister Douglas asked as Hermione conjured another chair and settled herself on the other side of Draco.
She watched as the lawyer busied himself with opening his briefcase, pulling out several sheets of parchment. The man had the outward appearance of being every bit the smarmy, money-hungry bastard just like most of the private lawyers in the Wizarding world, but Hermione knew better. He was a Muggleborn, graduated from Hogwarts twenty-five years before they had arrived, and often took cases without payment for those with less than fortunate backgrounds.
He was well known for beating the more affluent families in petty disputes, which had ruffled quite a few feathers, but his integrity and no-nonsense attitude had kept him afloat; he was a powerful ally.
"I wish to divorce my husband," Narcissa whispered, and Hermione was jolted back into the present. Did I hear that right?
"I see." Douglas shuffled some pages and put a stack back in his briefcase, which he then placed on the floor. "I am sorry I have to ask you this, Mrs Malfoy, but on what grounds will you be filing for divorce?"
"I'm scared for my life." Narcissa's voice was barely there and Hermione leant forward, her elbows on her knees, in order to hear better.
"Mother—" Draco took her hand, but Narcissa pulled it from his grasp and waved him away.
"It's been five years coming, Draco," she said. "Probably longer, if I'm being completely honest." She turned back to Douglas. "I don't feel safe with him in the house; he should not have been let out of Azkaban."
Hermione ducked her head as guilt filled her chest. She knew that it was her fault that Lucius had been allowed to walk free. She had deluded herself into thinking that she would have time to work out a plan which would see him stay behind bars, but then the stress of procuring the vial after Ron and Harry took it… She bit down on her lower lip; in her heart, she knew she had done the best she could given the circumstances, but it still ached to know that in trying to save Draco and Narcissa, she had inadvertently created more issues for them.
"Do you think he is a threat to your physical safety?" Douglas asked, glancing up briefly from his quill and parchment.
"Yes," Narcissa said. "Among other things. He has created a document which legally binds Draco to a marriage he does not want; I believe Lucius is up to something. He never does anything unless it furthers his own gains."
"And would you be willing to recite the reasons you believe that he would be a danger to you and Draco—and anyone else—" he nodded to his left, indicating Hermione "—in front of the Wizengamot?"
"Why would that be necessary?" Hermione interjected, looking at Douglas. "A full Wizengamot trial is a little excessive, don't you—?"
"With all due respect," Douglas said, his gaze shifting from Hermione to Narcissa, "we're talking about one of the most prominent cases of Death Eaters since the Lestrange case. You know as well as I do that the Wizengamot would insist on a full trial should they hear that Mrs Malfoy wishes to banish her husband back to Azkaban."
"I don't think so," Hermione argued, panic mixing with determination in her chest.
"It's fine, Miss Granger," Narcissa said. She shot her a look before turning to face Douglas. "I am willing to face the Wizengamot if necessary."
Hermione exhaled forcefully through her nostrils. She was grateful when Draco took her hand and gave it a squeeze, but the decision to ensure Narcissa didn't have to face a full trial just to get a divorce sat firm in her gut.
"Excellent." Douglas paused to scribble on the parchment again. "Now, tell me about this contract between Draco and…?" He turned to face the blond wizard, his dark eyebrows raised expectantly.
"Astoria Greengrass," Draco supplied.
More scribbling. Draco's thumb began to trace soft circles on the top of her hand and Hermione realised that at the witch's name, she had tensed, squeezing Draco's fingers until her knuckles turned white.
"Neither one of us want the marriage," Draco explained as Douglas continued to make notes. "Through the limited interactions I have had with her, Astoria has told me that though she begged, her parents would not agree to breaking the deal they have made with Lucius. The contract does state that should either of us find another person whom our parents deem fit, the contract could be nullified. However, it seems that my father has bribed the Greengrasses in some way—not that it has been easy for Astoria to find someone she wants to marry, given the circumstances…" Draco mumbled the last sentence before trailing off, shrugging his shoulders.
For the first time, Hermione actually felt sorry for Astoria. She couldn't imagine her parents forcing her to marry a man she barely knew, refusing to even consider her wishes.
"Do you have a copy of the contract?"
"Yes." Draco stood, his hand slipping from Hermione's.
"Sit," she told him. "I'll go and get it. You keep talking." She nodded towards Douglas and Draco offered her a grateful smile.
He took his seat again. "It's in my study; you'll find it in the waste paper basket by the door. I—" he coughed delicately "—may have torn it up."
Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile that spread across her face before she slipped silently from the room. She gripped her wand in her hand as she tiptoed down the hallway; Lucius may not have made an appearance when Douglas arrived, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to corner her if she was alone.
She made it to Draco's study without incident, and breathed a sigh of relief as the contract put itself back together with a simple Reparo. Hermione folded it neatly and tucked it into the back pocket of her jeans before once again gripping her wand and making her way into the hallway.
When she had almost made it back to Narcissa's room, she was stopped by an odd noise coming from around the corner, where the staircase to the main foyer lay. Hermione, never one to ignore someone in distress, held her wand out in front of her and crept to origin of the sound.
On the stairs sat Miksy, her hands holding the ends of her large ears in a way that stretched the skin taut from her head. Hermione winced; it looked rather painful. She approached quietly and continued to watch the elf as she wailed openly, crouched on the stairs like a beggar in a dirty alleyway. Her hands dropped from her ears suddenly, gripping the front of her monogrammed pillowcase, ripping it away from her body as if she was desperate to be rid of the garment.
Her sobs quickly turned into grunts of frustration, and Hermione decided it was time to interrupt the distraught creature lest Miksy hurt herself.
She cleared her throat, but Miksy didn't appear to hear her.
"Miksy?" she tried, keeping her voice low so as not to startle the elf.
Miksy rounded on her, her eyes wide and red-rimmed, her nose leaking freely on to the front of the pillowcase which she still gripped roughly in her fists.
"Miss—Miss Hermione!" Miksy squeaked, instantly releasing her front and standing so that she could fall into a wobbly bow. "What is you needing, Miss?" The elf swiped at her eyes and blinked rapidly, forcing her mouth into a watery smile.
"Are you okay, Miksy?"
Miksy nodded, her false smile holding for all of two seconds...then her lower lip wobbled and she threw her head back, emitting a high pitched wail as she collapsed onto the step again.
"Shh!" Hermione hushed, trying to sound both comforting and stern at the same time; this was exactly the sort of thing that would draw Lucius out from his lair. "Tell me what's wrong," she whispered quickly as she crouched beside the elf. "Maybe I can fix it?"
Miksy only wailed louder, burying her face on the tops of her knees as she sobbed openly.
"Okay," Hermione said, desperation fluttering in her chest like an angry moth. "Did you drop a centrepiece? Order the wrong flowers? Is there an issue with the cake?" Hermione listed off possible wedding-related problems, but Miksy shook her head savagely at each suggestion.
"Oh, M-Miss H-Hermione!" Miksy stuttered and then blew her nose loudly on the corner of her tea towel. "I is being bad, I is! M-Master Lucius s-said—" but what Master Lucius had said Hermione did not find out, because Miksy suddenly stood and ran towards the bannister, her head connecting with the unforgiving wooden pillars with a sickening crunch!
"Miksy!" Hermione ran to catch the elf before she stumbled down the stairs. A lump was already forming on the elf's forehead, and her eyes were rolling dangerously into the back of her head. Hermione held the elf in her arms as she dashed back up the stairs and sprinted down the corridor to Narcissa's room.
She didn't bother knocking as she approached, simply muttering the spell to open it and crossing the threshold without slowing her pace. "We have a problem," she panted, indicating the unconscious elf in her arms by nodding down at the sleeping form of Miksy.
Draco stood abruptly as Narcissa gasped. "What happened?" he demanded, coming to stand in front of Hermione.
"I-I found her on the stairs," Hermione explained, shifting the weight of the elf to Draco when he opened his arms. "She was crying, and she said something about your father, and then she ran at the bannister and—" Hermione realised then that she was hyperventilating and sank to the floor, her head between her knees.
"Douglas!" Draco rounded on the lawyer, who had remained seated throughout the exchange, his eyes moving from Hermione to Draco, his jaw slack. "I need you to stay here with my mother. I'll take Miksy to the kitchens and see what I can find out. Hermione, can you stand?" He bent over her slightly, unable to offer her his hand as he was carrying Miksy.
Hermione nodded, willing herself to stay upright as she forced her legs into a standing position. She was shakey, but a few deep breaths and the sound of Draco's voice allowed her to make it into the corridor.
"Where did you find her?" Draco asked when the door to Narcissa's door had shut behind them.
"On the main staircase," Hermione answered, jogging to keep up with Draco's long strides.
"And she didn't say anything?"
"She said she had been bad, and she mentioned your father…" Hermione chanced a glance over her shoulder, fully expecting to see Lucius exiting a room behind them.
Draco grunted and sped up; it was all Hermione could do to keep up with him.
Once in the kitchens, Draco allowed the elves to crowd around Miksy. He took Hermione's elbow and pulled her into the corner, where they watched the creatures work.
"Where are the rest of them?" Hermione whispered to Draco. "The manor is suspiciously quiet today."
Draco shrugged, glancing around before settling his gaze back on the group of House Elves in the middle of the room. "I'm not sure; perhaps they were given today off since it's Boxing Day."
"Seems odd for your father to suddenly develop concern for his slaves." Hermione shook her head.
Draco muttered his assent, but Hermione knew that he had no more of an explanation than she did.
After a few minutes, the elves stepped back and Miksy's voice could be heard cutting through the otherwise silent room. "I'm sorry," she was saying. "Miksy is so sorry—such a bad elf!"
Suddenly, Miksy was on her feet and her eyes were darting around the room as if looking for something. Hermione caught on just before the elf readied herself to launch at the oven which was in the process of cooking lunch.
"No!" Hermione cried.
"Miksy!" Draco shouted, catching Hermione's wrist as she made to run at the elf. "I order you to stop!"
Miksy froze. Her terrified expression turned slowly towards Draco; fat tears pooled in her eyes and began to fall down her cheeks.
"M-Master D-Draco—sir, Miksy—"
"You will not harm yourself," he said in an authoritative tone, stepping towards the kitchen island and pulling out a stool. "Sit here." He indicated the chair and then sat on the one next to it.
Miksy did as she was told, scrambling to the top of the stool and settling herself there. She was shaking like a leaf, her lower lip trembling with such force Hermione thought she might be in danger of biting it.
"Start from the beginning, please," Draco said.
"I c-can't tell you," Miksy whispered, her hands bunching into the front of her pillow case. "M-Master t-told me not t-to sp-speak!"
"Where is Master Lucius?" Draco asked, his eyes narrowing.
Miksy released a loud groan, her hands clenching and unclenching in the material. She shook her head violently. "No-no-no!" she moaned. "P-please don't ask me, Mister Draco, s-sir!"
Draco released a heavy sigh and ordered the rest of the elves to look after Miksy. "And you are not to harm yourself, Miksy, that is a direct order."
Miksy sobbed, her shoulders sagging in relief as the other elves shuffled around her, offering tea and helping her down from the stool.
"Draco, what—?" Hermione began, but Draco gripped her elbow and pulled her towards the exit.
When they had travelled out of earshot, he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "He's gone."
Hermione's blood ran cold. "Gone?" She shook her head. "What do you mean gone? He's under house arrest, he can't just—"
"Gone, Granger; gone as in not here. I don't know how he managed it, but I'm sure—" he cut himself off as they reached the door to an unfamiliar room which Hermione had not visited before.
Draco placed his right hand gingerly on the wood and splayed his fingers across it, as if testing whether or not he would be attacked. When nothing had happened after a few seconds, Draco raised his hand and knocked smartly three times.
Hermione held her breath as she stared at the doorknob, waiting for it to twist, indicating that someone was in fact on the other side of the door...but nothing happened; there was no answer.
Draco sighed and then pulled his wand from the inside of his jacket. He held the tip to the metallic door handle, muttering a string of spells under his breath that Hermione had not heard before.
With a satisfying click, the door swung inwards to reveal the immaculate study of Lucius Malfoy. The desk was made of mahogany, intricately carved with detailed filigree along the edges. The fireplace was glowing with orange heat, casting a warm glow across the space. An armchair sat to Hermione's immediate right, made of shiny black leather, and the walls were covered in shelves with rows of books all bound in the same emerald green.
Had she been in here under alternative circumstances, Hermione would have longed to spend hours exploring. As it was, Draco swore colourfully as he reached the centre of the room, placing his left hand onto the surface of the desk and using his right to wipe his brow.
"He's gone," he said, his gaze burning into Hermione's.
"Well, you can't be sure," she reasoned, though the conviction with which he spoke told her that he was right. "He might just be—"
"Hermione!" Draco squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth. Hermione snapped her mouth closed. He sighed, the harsh sound filling the room. Draco brandished his wand and for one wild second, Hermione thought that he might hex her. "Homenum Revelio!" he spat.
His eyes remained closed as the spell washed over him and Hermione waited with baited breath.
"How many—?"
"Four," Draco whispered, his eyes opening slowly and then widening in fear. "You, me, Mother, and Douglas…"
Hermione felt her blood run hot and cold at the same time, her cheeks instantly flushing as her teeth began to chatter. Her stomach rolled and she swallowed thickly against the bile which rose in her throat. "Which means—"
"Lucius has escaped."