"You are the most insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune to meet." – Hermione Granger
Hermione nervously showered and dressed, though her ensemble displeased her greatly. She cast aside yet another pencil skirt and ruffled blouse and silently screamed into her hands. She didn't want to go. She didn't want to spend her afternoon with Narcissa Malfoy and Luna Lovegood.
"What the hell does one wear to tea with Mrs Malfoy?" Hermione mumbled as she quickly removed her red blouse and tossed it onto the growing heap on her bed.
"You're overthinking it again. Of course, I have to say rethinking the red blouse was definitely in your best interests. You don't want to venture into Malfoy Manor sporting your House Colours," Gemma Farley plucked through the discard pile with pursed full red lips.
"You're supposed to be helping me. I don't know what to do!"
Hermione tossed her hands into the air and gazed at her reflection with a critical eye. She was in the process of rethinking every decision she'd ever made since taking her N.E.W.T.S. First and foremost, was accepting a position at the Ministry, but living with Gemma was a close second.
"You're quite matronly aren't you? I mean, this is a collection of pencil skirts and horrid blouses with hideous ruffles. This will never do."
The tall, long-legged brunette swept from the room with an easy sway to her hips that was easy to envy. She was willowy limbs and perfect hair. Other witches would have been jealous, had been jealous, but not Hermione, which was why Gemma liked her.
Gemma knew Hermione was wound just a bit too tightly and her job at the Ministry didn't help matters. In fact, the tensions had only risen since working in such close proximity to Draco Malfoy, but that subject was succinctly closed whenever it was broached. Instead, Gemma observed, as it was her favourite pastime.
"I thought you weren't coming back until Yule. That's what you told me," Hermione muttered as she twisted her uncooperative curls into some semblance of a twist.
"I was bored. There's only so much shopping a witch can do in France before everything runs together. It could have been too much wine, I can't be sure. It doesn't matter. Aren't you glad I showed up? Otherwise, you'd be off to the Manor wearing Gryffindor red and your grandmother's pearls," Gemma languidly tossed a conservative navy dress toward her roommate. "I picked this up for you on one of my many adventures. There's a lovely pearl white cardigan that would be smashing, but we've got to do something about those shoes."
Hermione frowned heavily and kicked off her substandard brown loafers under protest. She loved those shoes. They were comfortable and comfort always won out over fashion. The day she could make Gemma understand such things, would be a day that Hermione knew would never come.
"This shows entirely too much cleavage and too much leg. You're ridiculous," Hermione huffed as she straightened the dress over her hips.
Gemma narrowed her pale green eyes and raked her long fingernails through her chestnut hair. It wasn't the perfect ensemble. It certainly wasn't what she would wear, but Hermione Granger was the epitome of conservative. Gemma ached to get her friend to break free from her constraints, but as of yet, she had been unsuccessful.
"Someday you're going to allow me to dress you from head to toe. Perhaps for the Ministry Ball," She tapped her fingertip against her bottom lip and thrust a pair of red strappy heels toward Hermione.
"Fine, if I manage to walk away from this tea unscathed, you can have carte blanche for the Ball. Gods, I'm going to be late," Hermione groaned.
"You definitely can't Floo in that outfit. Hurry on then," Gemma waggled her fingers with laughter on her lips while Hermione scurried down the narrow steps.
Hermione held her breath and gripped her wand. She recited the words nearly every time she Apparated and never felt better about it. Destination. Determination. Deliberation. It never got easier and she hated the way her eyes pressed into her skull and her ears felt filled with everything and nothing.
She didn't heave upon landing and for that, she was ever so grateful. While she wasn't completely familiar with the Malfoy grounds, she had been to the Manor once or twice since the conclusion of the War. She stared at the iron gates with the deep feeling of trepidation that never seemed to wane when faced with the Malfoys.
Hermione refused to admit it to anyone other than herself, but they intimidated her. They were an old and powerful family. They had connections that ran deep through the Wizengamot, but it was their aloofness that she found most off-putting.
Despite her trepidation, Hermione placed her hands near the gates and held her breath as they swung open. Nervously, she stepped forward and braced herself. For reasons even she didn't understand, Hermione always expected some sort of jinx whenever she stepped onto the grounds, but it never came.
The walk was long, but it was never unpleasant. Hermione enjoyed the silence laced with solitude, as well as the welcoming grove of trees. Malfoy Manor was quite imposing, but the grounds were peaceful. She often imagined herself exploring the expansive gardens and quickly pushed away such thoughts. It wouldn't do to indulge such dreams.
"Ms Granger," Narcissa Malfoy waved congenially from the entrance with a hint of a smile pasted on her blush lips. "We expected you to Floo." She frowned slightly and shook her head to wipe away the traces of confusion.
"I'm sorry?" Hermione wobbled on the unfamiliar red heels as she ascended the stone staircase ever so carefully. "Gemma suggested Apparition and with this cardigan, I was apt to agree."
"Yes, I never did care for Floo Travel myself. Ms Lovegood is waiting for us in the Conservatory and I fear if we keep her waiting too long she'll entertain herself by plucking the aura of my house elves."
Narcissa gestured toward the foyer with an open arm and Hermione nodded agreeably. She kept her eyes downcast as she always had when venturing into the Manor, but the pale hand on her forearm caused her brown eyes to look up.
"It isn't the same, you realise?" Narcissa's crystal blue eyes held traces of apprehension, which Hermione understood quite well. "I was certain Draco had informed you when last you visited. Although, if I recall correctly your entrance was into his bedroom and quite late at night."
"It was work related, of course!" Hermione blushed as Narcissa smirked knowingly. "We had a break in an important case and the Minister said it couldn't wait and—"
"Breathe, Ms Granger. You'll live longer."
It was a long and comfortably quiet walk to the Conservatory. Hermione listened to the sounds of her heels on the marble and the vague shuffling of house elves. Narcissa glanced at the girl often, yet remained silent. Hermione released a breath of relief upon spying Luna Lovegood conversing with a distressed house elf.
"Ms Lovegood," Narcissa sighed.
"Hermione, you're here, lovely."
Luna waved over her shoulder as the house elf retreated with a gulp of fear and smiled broadly at Hermione. She bounded over with stars in her eyes and embraced the uncomfortable brunette despite Narcissa's frown. She threaded her arm through Hermione's and waited for the Matriarch to direct them.
"Perhaps, we should enjoy tea in the garden. I'm sure Ms Lovegood will be able to occupy herself with the infestation of Nargles and Ms Granger and I will be able to converse plainly."
Hermione didn't much like the sound of that. She regretted accepting the invitation to tea, but dammit, she needed answers. She needed to understand that horrible heavy feeling in her chest whenever Draco was near. It wasn't there before their stint in St Mungo's, at least she didn't think it was. Everything was hazy and convoluted and Hermione just wanted some answers.
She waited until Narcissa was seated and stiffly took the chair across from the blonde witch. She didn't know the proper protocol for having tea with a woman that frankly, intimidated her. Hermione carefully folded a linen napkin across her lap and waited for the innumerous questions she was sure Narcissa begged to ask.
"How have you been? I haven't spoken to you since that unfortunate situation at St Mungo's. Are you faring well?" Narcissa inquired.
"Most of my time has been spent delving into the lasting effects of the Fear Inducement Hex. I regret my involvement in that particularly nasty spell, but it can't be changed I suppose," Hermione shakily poured a cup of tea and hoped Luna would intercede soon.
"Have you spoken with Draco about his Veela Tendencies? I must say I find that supremely intriguing."
Luna tittered quickly and stirred more than an ample amount of cream into her tea. She glanced between Hermione and Narcissa under hooded eyes. She wasn't the sort of witch to skirt a subject. The Veela Tendencies needed to be discussed and it was better to broach such subjects immediately, at least in her opinion.
"I-I—" Hermione shook her head and pretended the clotted cream and raspberry jam dripping from her scone was much more interesting than Luna's invasive question.
"He hasn't informed you. Well, isn't that just like my son," Narcissa scoffed.
"I haven't seen him. I've been avoiding him. I have entirely too much work to do and I simply haven't the time to entertain his mumbled, nonsensical ramblings. He's incredibly emotionally stunted. I've had my fill of such things after spending months on end in a tent with two idiots. I can't put up with it again. If he's got something to tell me, he can send me a bloody owl," Hermione snapped.
Her eyes immediately widened as she realised she had shouted at Narcissa Malfoy. Her cheeks flushed and it was nary a moment later that she covered her face with her hands. She winced and wished she had entertained the idea of educating herself in Pureblood Customs.
"Ms Lovegood, I hardly think now is the proper time to pluck the poor girl's aura. She's obviously out of sorts."
Narcissa pursed her lips carefully and dabbed the corner of her mouth with the cream linen. If Hermione had glanced at the older witch, she would have seen the barest hint of a smile, but Hermione was busy silently berating herself for her faux pas.
"I apologise," Hermione said calmly.
"No need. My son often has that effect on others. I would blame Lucius, but I fear I must take responsibility for my ability to avoid as well. Draco is—" Narcissa paused, "unwilling, I suppose you could say, to accept his heritage. We kept it from him for ages, I'm sure you understand."
"I honestly thought it was a figment of my imagination. I thought it was some distorted nightmare or something, but it wasn't, was it? It actually happened. Malfoy actually bit me."
Narcissa set aside her superior breeding and reached across the table. It was a foreign sensation to grasp a trembling hand in her own, but she did it. Despite her upbringing, Narcissa knew it would be up to her to ease the Muggleborn witch into her new role.
"It would be so much easier to direct you to the impressive Malfoy Library, however, I must admit there aren't any books on the subject. I know that's probably utterly and completely devastating to a witch such as yourself. It's quite a personal matter. It's a long held secret if you will and as such, neither the Malfoys nor the Blacks wished to document such anomalies. I'm sure you understand."
Narcissa slowly stirred her tea and waited for the brunette to process the information. She pretended she didn't hear the crash of crystal from within the Manor. The last thing she needed to entertain was her drunken lout of a husband as he interjected his unnecessary and prejudiced opinions.
"When I was still a student at Hogwarts, I read nearly every book in the Hogwarts library. I even managed to nick a few from the Restricted Section, but if you ever repeat it, I'll deny it. There were quite a few books on various magical creatures, but the options concerning Veela were few and far between. It pains me to admit it, but I don't know much about Veela at all," Hermione winced under the weight of her confession and looked to Luna.
Luna Lovegood waved at the French doors and crinkled her nose. She giggled. Luna giggled the moment Lucius stepped into the blinding sunshine and squinted in obvious distaste. She waggled her fingers at the disagreeable blond and gestured toward the empty chair.
"Lucius, what on earth?" Narcissa's strangled voice startled the flock of white peacocks that had wandered nearby and Hermione stifled a laugh when they ran away.
"The sun should stop doing that," Lucius moaned.
"Shining?" Hermione interjected with a half smile and brown eyes that sparkled with mischief.
"Cissa, she's doing that thing. Make it stop," Lucius groaned and dutifully waited as his personal house elf poured him a cup of tea.
"I apologise, Ms Granger. It seems my husband is lamenting his existence," Narcissa smiled sweetly at Hermione and swiftly turned to glare at her husband.
"Overindulgence of firewhiskey will do that to a man," Hermione quipped.
"She's speaking again. Why must you torture me this way? I don't like to hear the blathering of Mudbloods before I've had my tea," Lucius waved airily and his elf poured a liberal draught of firewhiskey into his teacup with a shiver.
As for Hermione, her barely concealed simmering rage caused her teacup to rattle on its saucer from the force of her grip. Luna easily plucked the China from white knuckles and set it to the side. Narcissa's lips were pursed so firmly they appeared as pale as her blonde hair and Lucius would have noticed if he wasn't quite so busy attending to his hangover.
"I was simply discussing Veela Tendencies with Ms Granger when you so rudely interrupted."
"Wait. What? Why would you discuss familial confidences in such mixed company?" Lucius sputtered.
"Perhaps it's because Draco bit her," Luna shrugged and nibbled a particularly delicious shortbread biscuit.
"I'm going to be sick," Lucius gasped.
"You're so dramatic," Narcissa sighed.
Hermione squirmed in her seat, yet remained silent. She desperately wanted to ask a million questions and steer the conversation back toward the unusual Malfoy heritage. Instead, she toyed with the corner of her napkin and closed her eyes.
She regretted attending tea with Narcissa and Luna. It was the sort of regret she felt deep in her bones. She hadn't learned a speck of new information really. It was conjecture and insinuation, which was useless when one utilised logic to form proper opinions.
"If it would be possible to get back to the matter at hand, I'd much appreciate it," Hermione spoke demurely and folded her hands in her lap.
Narcissa appreciated Hermione's efforts but knew the poor girl really needed to relax. If her ramrod back was any indication, the young witch was bursting with anxiety, which would never do when dealing with Malfoys. She supposed it would fall onto her, as most things did, but for the moment, she merely needed to distract her husband.
"Lucius," Narcissa crooned. "Would you do me the honour of explaining our unique heritage? I fear it's been so long since I've discussed it, I can't recall everything."
Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously as she listened to Narcissa Malfoy play the simpering, ignorant witch for the benefit of her husband. It raised her hackles to see such a formidable woman bat her eyes and offer sweet lies in order to stroke her husband's ego.
"Liar," Lucius spat. "I know what you're doing. You think I don't know what you're doing?" He tossed back yet another amber filled teacup and belched into his hand. "Now, I don't know why you're determined to share our lineage with the likes of her, but I love you—"
"As I do you," Narcissa interrupted and stroked her husband's left hand in what could only be described as a sensual caress.
"Cissa is silently making sexual promises to be fulfilled later," Luna whispered loudly. "It's their favourite form of foreplay. Perhaps you should write that down, it might be useful information for when you're dealing with Draco."
"Luna!" Hermione hissed. "That's completely inappropriate. I have no intention of dealing with Malfoy in a—in a sexual nature."
"I've heard about all that snogging at the Ministry. It's only a matter of time before he seduces you," Luna crinkled her nose and shrugged.
"Snogging?" Lucius interjected. "Cissa, why have I not heard of this? Has our son lost complete control of his faculties?"
"Only where Ms Granger is concerned it seems," Narcissa pinched the bridge of her nose and nearly wished for a sherry to calm her nerves.
"I've read that Veela are sexual creatures, is that true?" Hermione was desperate to turn the conversation.
Lucius huffed in self-righteous indignation and ignored the uppity wench. He'd much rather focus on the sidelines of Narcissa's delectable breasts than listen to a voice that grated. He shifted in his seat as his thoughts turned lascivious and snarled at the pointed glare from the irritating Muggleborn.
"My dear, if my son were full Veela and he had chosen you," he sniffed, "you would have been on your back before you could say Gryffindor. Of course, I doubt my son would risk his legacy no matter how enticing he finds your skirts."
"Why did we do this again?" Draco Malfoy moaned into his tumbler of firewhiskey with bleary eyes.
"We're stupid," Ron Weasley replied.
"Speak for yourself."
Draco swirled his glass and winced as the ice clinked loudly against the side. He knew it was a bad idea to day drink with Ron Weasley and yet, he'd done it anyway. It was better than listening to Potter lament his terrible life choices, even he had to admit that much.
"This is Harry's fault. Can't even watch a fucking Quidditch match without listening to him blather on about Lavender. Merlin, I wish he'd divorce her already."
Ron rubbed his bleary blue eyes and considered taking a quick kip on the pub table. He knew it would be frowned upon. He knew Malfoy would probably mock him endlessly, but he was just so bloody tired it was almost worth it.
"She's awful. I don't know how you Gryffindors put up with her. I restrain myself from strangling her every bloody time I'm forced to set eyes on her."
"Malfoy, you don't need to lie. You look forward to her impromptu visits to the Ministry. I mean, think about it. Without her visits, however, would you manage to snog Hermione?" Ron laughed stupidly and avoided the swinging palm veering toward his head.
"We're not going to discuss Granger today, Weasley," Draco spat and avoided the curious blue eyes boring into him.
"It's much better than discussing Lavender," Ron shuddered. "When are you going to admit you fancy her? I didn't see you lot at St Mungo's. Apparently, I was busy shouting about spiders, but from what Nott's mentioned, you two were quite cosy."
"I don't want to fancy her. Don't scoff at me, Weasley. I don't want to like her. We get on alright, but she drives me absolutely barmy. She's obstinate—"
"So are you."
"She's stubborn—"
"So are you."
"She's arrogant and I swear to Merlin you interrupt me one more time I'm going to remind you of that fucking slug incident," Draco snarled.
"You nearly shagged her, Malfoy. If I hadn't intervened—"
"I told you I didn't want to talk about her! Fuck, why are we friends?" Draco groaned and gestured toward the pretty barista to refill his abandoned coffee mug.
"Oh, this is serious. You're retreating from the firewhiskey and going to dutifully sip horrid coffee in order to keep your head," Ron laughed. "We wouldn't be friends if it weren't for my mum. You know that."
Draco sneered, but the malice behind it was severely lacking. He knew Weasley was right. If it hadn't been for his intervention during the Final Battle, his psychotic aunt may have very well ended Molly Weasley. It wasn't something he enjoyed discussing nor did he preen in the praise from his action. He simply considered it something that anyone with half a heart would have done.
"Yeah well, I still recall you shouting a bit about it."
"I didn't like you then. Hell, I barely like you now. I nearly lost my mind when my mum embraced you. I thought she'd been Imperiused or something else equally horrible. Of course, then she smacked me a bit and all those pesky doubts fucked right off," Ron snickered. "My mum says you and Hermione are well suited. You can't tell Hermione that though. Mum thinks it's hilarious to carry on about Hermione marrying me. As if that would ever happen."
Draco growled low in his chest and then baulked away from the sound in surprise. The very idea of Ronald Weasley courting his witch set his blood on fire. He didn't understand the overwhelming wave of possessiveness that cloaked him and he wasn't sure he wanted to.
His parents had been incredibly tight lipped about everything after his stint in St Mungo's. It was fairly disconcerting considering his mother merely prattled on and on about the Muggleborn witch that had brought his son to safety. Draco knew his mother was never that obvious without reason, but the reasoning behind it eluded him.
"Malfoy, we need to get out of here. You're growling like some sort of beast and Nott just walked in. I'm not in the mood to listen to him lament the loss of his witch. I wouldn't have let her go if it had been me. Mum says that makes me selfish and that I should want any witch to be happy and I do. I just want the witch I want to be happy with me."
"She didn't love him, Weasley," Draco nodded curtly toward Theo and flinched away from the longing gaze in the other man's eyes. "He loved her enough to want her to be happy, even if it wasn't with him. I still don't understand how she chose fucking Longbottom, but that's neither here nor there I suppose."
"Wait," Ron leant forward and hissed. "Nott's bird was Hannah? You're taking the piss, aren't you? There's no fucking way that—"
"Shut it. It was an arrangement between their parents. Nott simply fell for the bint and her affections had always been elsewhere. She wasn't unkind to him, but her bloody Hufflepuff nature allowed him to believe there was hope when there wasn't any."
Draco suddenly pushed away from the pub table and lurched to his feet. He wavered for a moment and wiped his palms down his pale face. The air in the pub was suddenly thick and it made it difficult for him to breathe. He wanted to go home, but in his current state, Apparition was out of the question.
"Oi, let's Floo. I dislike the idea of splinching again."
"Again?" asked Draco.
"Yeah, ask Hermione about it. Hey, isn't today Saturday?"
Draco ignored Ron and stepped into the green flames near the back of the Leaky. He mumbled his destination and hoped he'd arrive. He probably should have been more concerned, but he wasn't. His thoughts were filled with wide brown eyes and bee stung pink lips.
"Get off me," Draco groaned.
He blinked his bleary eyes and shoved the mass off him. He groaned and had half a mind to close his eyes. His parents would find him eventually and they'd berate his lack of dignity but he was fucking tired.
"Malfoy, your parents are in the garden and they've guests," Ron squinted as he gazed down the corridor. "I smell food."
"You always smell food. Help me up you bastard," Draco tossed his arm into the waiting hand and moaned dramatically when Ron yanked him to his feet.
He inhaled deeply and wavered on his feet. His grey eyes snapped open and his breaths rapidly increased. Draco inhaled once more and despite his inebriated state, he felt quite invigorated.
Ron scurried after the tall, pale, blond and secretly hoped they were headed toward the vittles. He flinched away from the fresh air that assailed his nostrils and frowned when the sunlight pricked his blue eyes. He didn't want sunshine and fresh air. He wanted a full belly and a kip.
"Draco!"
"Bollocks," Ron muttered.
Narcissa Malfoy stood in all her regal finery and glared at her unwelcome guests. She looked to her husband to reprimand their only child, but Lucius was busy batting away the insistent hands of Luna Lovegood. It would have been quite amusing under different circumstances, but Narcissa narrowed her blue eyes and her glare varied between her husband and son.
"Granger," Draco snarled.
"Malfoy," Hermione hissed.
Lucius Malfoy's blurred eyes focused on the tension between the two and he groaned, quite loudly. He still had high hopes his son hadn't enforced the bond. It was only a small bite. He hadn't exacerbated it by repeating the gesture. There was still hope.
Draco could change his mind. He could very well decide it was in his best interest to turn his affections to the pretty little Greengrass chit. At least she had an affinity for cock. Lucius mightn't have been able to rise to the occasion, but he did recall her enthusiastic efforts. He didn't necessarily want to shag his future daughter-in-law, but what man would decline warm supple lips wrapped around their bits?
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Draco sneered quite nastily and grasped her arm.
"Your mother invited me," Hermione struggled, but his fingers were iron on her skin. "You're drunk."
"You're insolent. I've half a mind to set you over my knee," Draco leered appreciatively at her gentle curve of exposed cleavage.
"Sweetheart!" Lucius lurched to his feet with a desperate shout. "Bring my son and his heathen guest a Sobering Potion, immediately!"
His stomach rolled dangerously as he watched Draco and Hermione's interactions. He didn't like the way Draco carefully extricated the witch from her chair and stood entirely too close to be proper. He detested the way his son studied the glaringly obvious set of white teeth marks on her throat. He nearly lost his mind when Draco's fingertips touched the girl's pulse point.
"Thank you for having me, Mrs Malfoy," Hermione stuttered and pushed away from Draco's hard chest.
Draco allowed his hands to drop and stepped away from her. He looked at Weasley, but that tosser was busy stuffing his face with biscuits and scones. Utterly useless, as usual. He wanted to sink his teeth into Granger's neck. He wanted to peel her dress off and watch it pool at his feet. Instead, he clenched his jaw and watched Hermione and Luna depart with promises of owls.
"He's impossible," Narcissa scoffed as she watched her son angrily stride through her rose bushes.
"He's a Malfoy," Lucius offered with barely a glance in her direction. "This is your doing, you and that Lovegood girl. If you hadn't continuously pressed him toward that insipid Greengrass wretch, he would have married her. He would have given me beautiful blond grandchildren. Instead, there's a chance we'll be strapped with that horrid little Mud-Muggleborn. You and your meddling will be the death of me."
"You realise he believes Astoria was your choice, don't you? I implicated you quite well actually. Don't look at me like that. You should be thanking me. Our grandchildren would have been stupid. Stupidity is always inherited and I simply cannot abide the thought of stupidity as a dominant trait in our legacy," Narcissa dabbed the corner of her mouth with a linen napkin and set her tea in its saucer.
Lucius grunted and poured himself a healthy draught of firewhiskey while he ignored his wife's disapproving frown. If he wanted to drink during the midday, who was to stop him? There was nothing better to do since the Wizarding World was filled with happiness and horribleness.
"She's pretty. I like pretty. I chose you, didn't I?" He leered at his wife with a knowing smile until she blushed prettily.
"Yes fine, she's pretty, but you knew the choice wasn't ours. You hoped it would be ours, and I can't say I wasn't wishing the same, but it's better this way, Lucius."
"Better this way? You were instrumental in pushing them toward each other. How is it better?"
"I did no such thing. I simply observed our son and the way his thoughts constantly drifted toward her. It's obvious if you ever paid attention to more than the bottom of your goblet, Lucius. Are you incapable of recalling the way he'd rant and rave about her? It was only a matter of time and so what if I just so happened to send the Malfoy Ring with the Contract to the Ministry?"
"You did what?" Lucius leant forward and braced himself on his elbows and his upper lip twitched in distaste.
"I can hear you, you realise?" Draco shouted from the safety of the rose bushes. "You keep assuming it's Granger, well let me assure you, it most definitely is not!" He lied.
"You're a liar," Ron chortled.
"You're a Weasley," Draco scoffed and angrily tore a white bloom from it's prickled stem.