A/N: Thank you ever so much for the feedback on this story. I hope you enjoy the update. Happy reading Xx
Beta love to NikkiB and Kreeblim Sabs
~oOo*oOo~
The dress she wore felt entirely too revealing. Hermione couldn't help but wonder where the sleeves had gone? The style of clothes in Wiltshire proved to be just as different as everything else she encountered so far in this strange land. She ran her hands down the a-line corset and further down to the layers of organza that made up the cathedral style skirt. It hadn't fit her initially, but the strange creature known as Hokey had performed some type of spell that had tightened and shortened the dress without the use of thread or needle. Hokey had then proceeded to pin her hair in an elaborate updo. None of the primping had prepared her for their imminent trip to the palace, however.
"Must I truly wear this to meet the king?" Hermione gnawed on her lip as she chanced a glance at Thomas who was once more wearing his armour and chainmail over his silver and green tunic.
Thomas frowned which only served to make his already handsome face look somehow even more handsome. "It's what all the ladies of the Court wear. Better get used to dressing to suit your station."
She pressed her lips in a petulant line as they continued to make their way from the extravagant Floo room and down the equally gorgeous hall. "Why didn't you marry one of the ladies of Court?" She knew she was pushing it by asking him such a forward question, but her curiosity spurred her on. Surprise flashed across her face when he actually answered her.
"The kingdom of Wiltshire has kept to itself for ages, shutting its doors from outsiders. Over the years, lines have become convoluted and nearly everyone is related to each other. Inbreeding has led to infertility, and that's the main reason the king has demanded we find foreign wives to introduce new bloodlines. But, of course, that presents with inherent problems as well."
Hermione fought to keep the shock from registering on her face. Of all the possible answers she'd expected to hear, that surely wasn't one of them. What a peculiar issue for Wiltshire to face. She couldn't help thinking it served them right for being so reclusive and unwelcoming in the first place, but another part of her understood the decision to hide their secrets from the rest of the world. In her experience, people feared what they didn't understand.
"What sort of problems?"
"There are some unwelcome results that come from coupling with Muggles," he drawled, a wicked glint passing over his eyes. "For instance, despite the fact that the marriage bed has proved fertile, there is the chance that a child born of a Muggle and a witch or wizard may be a squib."
"A squib?"
"Born without the ability of wielding magic."
"Oh." Hermione felt her heart suddenly plummet in her chest. What if that was her fate with Thomas? What if she gave him a child, but they would not be magically inclined like their father? Would he hate her for it? "What are the odds of something like that happening, My—, Thomas?"
"A four in five chance, actually, and only a one in one hundred chance when between a witch and wizard."
She felt suddenly nauseous. The odds didn't seem to be in her favor at all. She pitied a child born without the special ability if they were destined to live here. They would be outcasts, like she was surely doomed to be. "Oh dear."
"You needn't fear. I'm confident our prospects will be favorable."
Hermione did not share his optimism. "You do realize that those statistics threaten the existence of witches and wizards? There are bound to be less and less magical births with numbers like those."
She could hardly focus on her opulent surroundings as she turned the idea over in her head. Their footsteps echoed in the vast and empty hall as she studied him nervously. Her husband was a force to be reckoned with. There was an air of power that hung around him like an impenetrable shield. He strode confidently through the castle with a fearless devil-may-care attitude. Hermione could not be more opposite to him.
"Not necessarily, Dear Wife." He slanted his hard gaze over to meet hers. "There are times when a witch or a wizard can be born of two Muggles."
She gasped. "Really?" The notion momentarily stunned her. Try as she might, she could not imagine a random witch or wizard being born in the kingdom of Ballycastle. How would they know who they were, or how to connect with their roots? They would go mad! The thought was tragic. Suppose they never knew of their heritage? She pitied the poor person. "What is the likelihood of something like that happening?"
He arched an elegant brow as a smirk pulled at his lips. "One in one hundred thousand, I would guess. They are rare, but they exist. We call them Muggle-borns."
Something dark passed through his eyes that she couldn't quite register, but it made her uncomfortable just the same.
"Enough with the statistics lesson," he said sharply, his attention pulled to the entrance of the Court they had finally reached. "It's time for you to meet your king, and you'd better not disappoint me."
Hermione gulped, wishing desperately to remind him he hadn't prepared her for what she was supposed to say and it was very likely that she could disappoint him—a one in two chance by her estimations.
As they entered through the high doorway, Hermione had to grit her teeth to keep from gaping. The Court was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. There were trees edging the room - trees with some type of flittering lights nestled in the leaves - and floating chandeliers above their heads. Many members of the Court were gathered around the various sitting areas that lined the crystal-stone walkway which led to the extravagant throne. Gems were carved into the walls and cut into the impressive throne itself, sparkling under the light of the chandeliers. Behind the throne was a waterfall that seemed to feed itself. It fell into a sapphire blue pool designed around the dias. In the throne sat the king she recognized instantly as Prince Draco's father. Never before had she seen such long, platinum blond hair on a man or a woman. He wore a fur grey robe around his black tunic and a jewel studded crown atop his head.
The sick feeling in her gut came back with a vengeance.
The pressure on the small of her back brought her to herself once more and she let Thomas urge her further into the room. She was acutely aware of the eyes on her from the various ladies and gentlemen of the Court who watched them curiously. They were all stunningly beautiful - inhumanely so - in her opinion. They had the strange beauty Sir Nott, Prince Draco, and her husband the duke had when she first noticed them in Ballycastle. Hermione wondered if it was an effect of the magic they possessed—magic she was almost sure she could feel rolling off of them in dark, intoxicating waves.
"His Grace the Duke of Salazar and his Lady Wife, the Duchess," a man standing below the dais announced in a booming voice that echoed down the hall.
Hermione fought from flinching as she quickly dipped into her best curtsy while Thomas bowed beside her. Surely she had done that right, at least. So far so good.
"Lord Riddle," the king bit out in a tone so silky Hermione almost didn't detect the disapproval hidden in his words.
"Your Grace," Thomas returned.
"I must confess," the king sat forward, resting his forearms on his legs, "I've been most eager for you to present your Lady Wife. The prince has regaled us with quite the tale."
Hermione felt shame creep up her face as she kept her eyes ducked.
She wasn't good enough.
It was a fact she knew already, but still the reminder pained her. What had her brilliant and cunning husband been thinking to select her over a more fortuitous match? She'd heard his excuses before, but surely they would shrivel up and die in front of the formidable King Lucius.
Thomas was the picture of ease as he gestured to Hermione, seemingly oblivious to the rude stares he was getting from the sidelines. "This is Lady Hermione, a maiden of Ballycastle, as you instructed me to find, Excellency."
Murmurs suddenly filled the hall, but Hermione could not distinguish the words behind them.
"Your Grace." She curtseyed again and kept her eyes lowered, feeling wholly foolish. She should be in some kitchen somewhere scrubbing the dishes from a feast, not parading as a duchess. Did wizards require their dishes to be scrubbed? Or did they tend to such things magically? The distracting thought almost made her chuckle giddily. It was a pure nightmare! She was vaguely aware of the fact that she hadn't had one of her visions since leaving Ballycastle. Perhaps that's what this was - one long, drawn out episode? - maybe she had finally lost her wits.
King Lucius scoffed loudly, completely ignoring Hermione much to her relief. "I distinctly remember advising you to choose the best possible match, one that would benefit us politically. Yet you bring… what was it Draco?"
Hermione's attention was pulled to where Prince Draco sat, a dark-haired raving beauty lounging cozily by his side. His smile was cruel. "A chambermaid, I believe."
Her eyes dropped to the stone where she imagined herself shrinking and melting between the cracks. The giggles from the fine assembly rang through her ears. Surely this was enough for Thomas to see the error of his ways? He would no doubt send her back to her kingdom, where she would be destined to live forever in disgrace.
The king cut his chuckling short. "Do you mean to mock me, Lord Riddle? Surely such a slight on King Charles would spur war."
Thomas voice remained calm. "A war? With the Muggles? It wouldn't be much of a fight, would it?"
"Muggles have their uses," Prince Draco said smugly. "They make a good resource for the front line."
"You know our enemies are amassing an army in the north." King Lucius shot a glance around the room. "Surely you don't need to be informed again of the benefits of aligning with our neighboring kingdoms?"
"Perhaps our illustrious prince should have the honor of uniting such powerful houses." The expression on Thomas' face could only be described as arrogant. It didn't take a wizard to see that he was inciting the king's wrath, so why did he provoke him so?
"I am still holding out hope that a union can be made with the Burrow," King Lucius said, his voice dropping several octaves. "As you are well aware."
"I don't want to wed anyone from there, Father," Prince Draco bit out angrily. "They're far too inferior to have the privilege."
"Is it that?" called a new voice.
Hermione looked up to see a black-haired wizard with green eyes speaking.
"Or is it that the Mage's daughter wants nothing to do with you?"
The prince let out an indignant snort as he reached out to grab an errant curl of the girl sitting beside him—a girl Hermione now noticed was staring daggers at her. "You would think so, Lord Harold, but really it is I that wants nothing to do with her. She's a fiery hellion that comes from a line of Muggle-lovers."
"But they are a fertile line," the king interrupted, "as evidenced by her many brothers. We cannot afford to be this selective, Draco. An heir is all that matters. A union with the Burrow would be highly advantageous should they acquiesce to my request. And the possibility of a magical birth would be greatly in our favor."
"A magical heir," Thomas interjected, "is of the most importance."
"Yes." King Lucius curled his lip, displaying his teeth. "And you must pray that if you're fortunate enough to produce a child with this Muggle foreigner, that your child will not be born a squib." He sat back, and eyed Thomas menacingly. "You've wasted your choice on someone that brings nothing to the table whatsoever. By the looks of her, I'd say she's a few Knuts short of a Galleon. She's shaking like a bloody leaf."
I'm cold! she thought bitterly. This dress leaves much uncovered! Of course I'm shaking. Her gaze narrowed at the floor as she sensed Tom walking away from her and towards the king. The few members of the Court that were present did not stray far from her mind. Hermione wondered if they were family or the privileged elite, or a combination of the two. Why were they permitted to witness such a scolding of a noble? There were not more than ten in attendance, and she was grateful the Court was not fully occupied, but still her embarrassment raged like a wild beast.
"I don't believe it was such a waste, Your Grace." Thomas let out a short laugh at the notion. "I find it quite agreeable to have a wife capable of caring for herself instead of a pampered princess. What's more, she is obedient. My other options were horrendous."
"You could have Imperiused any one of them for all I care," King Lucius snapped. "Now you are stuck with a former commoner you've elevated in status without my permission."
"I had your permission," Thomas told the king darkly. "You said the most eligible maiden that struck my fancy, and I really couldn't have planned for a better option, Your Grace."
Hermione's heart soared at the praise, though it didn't make the least bit of sense. She was hardly a suitable bride for a noble.
"You mock me and you mock this Court," King Lucius growled. "How do you expect us to believe she is the most eligible?"
Thomas said nothing, but then Hermione felt that pull again, and couldn't help but to look up expectantly. Sure enough, he had summoned his magic and was coercing it. He formed a small ball of fire in his hand which grew larger the longer he held it. She watched entranced.
"What is this madness?" The king barked out impatiently.
She couldn't help but wonder the same thing. The members of Court watched alongside her, probably trying to discern just what he was up to. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to be able to figure out her husband or anticipate his next move.
"Hermione," Thomas called to her, flashing a grin, "catch this!"
There was not a second to react as he threw the ball of fire at her and she felt the heat of it approach furiously through the air. She grabbed her head and ducked just when the attack was supposed to hit her straight on. The nerve of him! He brought her all this way only to shame and murder her in a foreign Court! Her rage was palpable, and she snapped upright to face the attack with defiance blazing in her eyes. It was then that she noticed there was no pain.
No.
She had felt the force approach her, but it seemed to have transformed into something else when it met her skin. Her eyes widened in surprise when she noticed tiny silver flakes fall from her dress and collect below her noiselessly on the floor. She looked up again - this time uncertainly - and noticed her surprise was mirrored in the eyes of her onlookers. They were pointing at her and whispering behind their hands.
Her eyes flew to her husband's and there was no mistaking the look of triumph that burned in his eyes. He was the picture of smug, as if there had been a battle and he'd come out the victor.
Hermione was baffled into silence.
"Your Grace," Thomas said, facing the king once more. "You asked me to select a wife from Ballycastle and I have selected the most eligible maiden—a magical maiden."
Shocked gasps could be heard throughout the Court and even the king and the prince seemed stunned into silence.
Hermione on the other hand, had found her voice. Pulse hammering at her temples she turned her confused glare on Thomas. "Magical?" she echoed. "You mean to tell me—I'm a witch?"
Thomas nodded, absently examining his fingernails. "It would appear so, yes."
"And you didn't think it pertinent to inform me of this before?" Her voice was deathly low as she had to physically restrain herself from launching at the man.
His eyes flashed perilously as he fixed her with a look that said any further comment on her part would be met with retribution. She had questioned him in public - in front of the Court' most elite - but she couldn't bring herself to feel regret over it.
"What is the meaning of this?" King Lucius finally asked.
"She has the strongest protective magic I've ever seen, and she uses it without a wand, without so much as realizing it." Thomas was back in control, enacting his plan effortlessly. "Inherent shielding abilities which I noticed upon our first meeting. Hermione - my Duchess - is a Muggle-born."
"Outrageous!" Prince Draco stood hurriedly to his feet. "You knew if there was a magical one, I was supposed to have her!"
"Then you should have been paying attention," Thomas replied coolly with a careless shrug of his shoulders. "Besides, you already planned on courting Lady Ginevra of the Burrow."
"It goes without saying," King Lucius shrieked. "My son gets the best, always. You must renounce her as your wife and hand her over to him immediately."
The Court erupted in chaos.
The black-haired wizard that looked a lot like Thomas, Lord Harold, she remembered, spoke up, "A Muggle-born. Has there been one found in the last decade?"
"Powerful magic," someone else said.
"Did you see what happened to the fire when it met her skin?" another asked.
"She wasn't even holding a wand!"
But Hermione could no longer focus on the words, not when the king was looking at her with those hungry eyes, eyes that matched Prince Draco's. She suddenly felt very much like prey caught in the eyes of a hunter. How would Thomas save her now? Even more perplexing, when had she considered Thomas to be her best option as far as saviors went?
"I regret to inform you that your request is impossible to grant, Excellency." There was a faintly sorrowful expression on Thomas' face that Hermione did not believe to be sincere in the slightest. "We were wed in the most ancient of Pureblood vows and the bonds are sadly, unbreakable. If only I'd have known sooner…"
King Lucius slammed his hands down on the sides of his throne, his face twisted in a harsh frown. "Has the marriage been consummated?"
"Of course, Your Grace," Thomas lied flawlessly.
She was glad the question had not been directed to her. She would have choked on her answer!
"Well I suppose that's that, then." King Lucius exhaled a breath through his nose then turned to face Prince Draco. "The Ginevra girl is your only option. Mage Arthur has agreed to let us host her at Court. Let's hope he agrees to a marriage as well, or it's a Muggle for you." He turned back to Thomas. "Do leave my sight."
~oOo*oOo~
They left the palace in record time and fled through the Floo. Thomas didn't wish to try the king's patience anymore than he already had by staying in his sight. Perhaps he was thinking of a reason to punish him even now, but Thomas had done nothing wrong, in the strictest sense. The king would lose the favor of the people if he took out his anger on Thomas over such a matter.
His deceit had played out beautifully and he would relish replaying it over and over in his head just to see their shocked expressions. Shame on them for mocking him in the first place. Thomas never did things by half measures.
"Ow!" he shouted, looking down at his little Muggle-born wife to see she was pinching his arm and twisting it as hard as she could as they stumbled out of the hearth. He wrenched away from the ferocious creature. "What was that for?"
"You used me!" she shrilled, equally enraged by the look on her face. "You deceived me and nothing you've ever told me has been close to the truth!"
His eyes rolled skyward. "I've told you plenty of truths." He shot her a dark look, remembering how she had questioned him in front of the Court. "I merely didn't tell you all of it. And don't think I will be forgetting how you addressed me in the presence of the king."
"It's the least of what you deserved." Her hands dropped to her hips as her hot stare rose in intensity. "And not telling me all of it is the definition of deceit."
"Maybe I didn't know for sure. Call it one final test."
"One final test?" she echoed incredulously. "To throw a ball of fire at my abdomen?"
"I was fairly certain your magic would protect you."
"Fairly certain?"
Her face reddened to crimson and for the first time he felt mild unease, before he remembered that he was far superior to his little wife in every possible way.
"That's right. Ninety-nine percent sure."
His eyes widened in surprise when he felt her hands come up to push him in the chest, so caught off guard he actually stumbled into the wall. Irritated, he reached for her and tangled his hand in her hair as he hauled her forward roughly, her feet scraping along the wood. He threw her down none-too-gently on the sofa, but that didn't deter her from coming after him a second time.
"Calm down, wild beast," he said as he crawled over her and grabbed her hands to restrain her. "Surely you see that even now I've done what's best for you."
"You've done what's best for you!" she accused, trying to break from his grasp. "I just happen to be a convenient opportunity."
He grabbed her forcefully and spun her around before wrapping his arms around her torso. He pulled her into his lap and finally felt her go lax. He didn't relinquish his grip, however, especially if she meant to play possum before going at him again.
"Would you rather you belonged to the prince?" he asked around her mass of hair already escaping the pins thanks to her unladylike behavior. "I'm sure he would be most considerate with you."
Her sharp nails - talons, rather - dug into his hands where he held her. "You lied to him about the consummation. Perhaps it is a lie that I am completely yours as you claimed I am."
His fingers dug punishingly into the bare flesh of her forearms. "Don't presume to threaten me, Dear Wife." He squeezed her harder still until she stopped writhing against him. The pale skin of her neck and the part of her back that was bared to him was enough to distract him for a moment. "Or perhaps you are suggesting that we complete our union now?"
She tensed in his arms and made to look wildly over her shoulder at him, but Thomas stopped her by latching onto her neck, unable to resist catching her off guard especially when she was being so difficult. She let out a gasp of astonishment and then renewed her efforts to break free of him.
"Do keep wiggling against me, sweet, loyal wife," he encouraged. "It does make it so much more exciting."
She relaxed instantly and he laughed.
"I am loyal." There was a tremble in her voice.
"Oh?" Thomas didn't stop nuzzling her neck, counting it as a personal triumph when gooseflesh spread over her skin.
"And I can be sweet so long as I'm not being betrayed."
"Is that a threat? You're hardly in a position to make them." Thomas widened his legs and got more comfortable with her, loosening his grip as he tried to determine what exactly she smelled like. Wildflowers and citrus mixed with untapped power. It was heady. He began to forget why he was supposed to be angry with her in favor of more pleasurable pursuits. His plans were seeing fruition and his new wife was turning out to be a delight - for the most part - perhaps it was time to enjoy her fully.
"It's not a threat." She tilted her head over her neck in an effort to block him, but he only switched sides. "I'm only trying to communicate my feelings. Is that not what a wife and husband do?"
"I don't care much for feelings."
He licked a line from her neck to her shoulder and she made a sound of protest. "You said you would wait to do such things."
"I believe it was you who initiated this. Must mean you're ready."
"Well I'm not."
Thomas sighed and pulled away from her, but he didn't release her. "Fine. Though I'm starting to believe you're something of a tease."
She huffed and tried to glare at him from over her shoulder, but the effect was somewhat ruined given her vulnerable position.
He rested his head against the cushion, still feeling the rush of victory. Things had worked out exactly as he had intended them to. The king had set out to play him, and had been played in return. What was more, he had been right in regards to Hermione. She really was a Muggle-born - a precious gem hidden among common stones - and she was his.
He couldn't help but smirk when he remembered the way the fire had shifted to water before reaching her and dissipating into a ball of harmless flakes before brushing off her and falling to the floor. They knew what she was then - a witch - and the mockers and neigh-sayers could do nothing but swallow their own words.
What was more, he had challenged the king - albeit subtly - and there was nothing he could do in retaliation. Gradually people would come to see that Thomas was more fit to be a leader than anyone in the Malfoy line. He was capable of anticipating the moves of his enemies and coming up with calculating plans others were unable to expect. He discovered buried treasures where some did not bother to look twice.
"How did you know?" Hermione asked him quietly, somewhat more relaxed against his chest.
She didn't need to elaborate. He knew exactly what she meant.
"I felt the pull of your magic." He peered at her through hooded eyes, still feeling the desire she had fanned in him. "In the wizarding world, we have a spell that repels Muggles from noticing us, and you were using it." In truth, he wondered if maybe that was the reason Hermione was so oblivious to the ways of men. Perhaps her inherent shielding ability had protected her innocence, in a way. It would explain the unusual purity coming from a common chambermaid. "I've long since trained myself to recognize magical traces." He ran an errant finger of her bare shoulder, watching as she shivered in response. "And there was the time when you breached my wards."
"I thought you said that was due to the vows."
"Due to your magic, rather."
"I didn't realize I was using spells, but that would explain...so many things." She swallowed thickly and Thomas thought that maybe she was sad. Her life had been lonely and the fact that she carried this gift a secret she never found out until now.
"I thought I was crazy. I tried to make it go away."
"You should embrace it," he told her quietly, his tone much softer. "Not only does it make you special, but it puts you above other humans. You can bend magic to your will. You only need someone to teach you."
She twisted her upper body to look at him, and this time he allowed the movement. "You will teach me?"
He nodded, attempting to conceal the hunger from his eyes. "Your magic is instinctual. It will not be so hard to learn, and you will not find a better teacher."
Her eyes gleamed at the prospect, and some of the wariness seemed to fall away. "I think I would like that very much."
Drawing his hands from her shoulders down to her wrists, he brought them back up again in a gesture meant to be soothing. She didn't recoil from his touch as she had been prone to do before, and he called that progress. "You may get a wand tomorrow when you are fitted for your dresses."
"That's...kind of you."
"What sort of husband would I be if I didn't see to all your needs? Besides, you are a magical being and you belong here."
Her eyelashes fluttered and she gave him a small smile through half-lidded eyes. "I'm sorry for doubting you. Perhaps you really do know what's best."
She laid back to rest her head on his chest, her soft curls tickling his chin. He inwardly delighted over all of his accomplishments this day. He secured his future with a wife of his own selection, planted seeds of doubt in the mind's of the other nobles, and was gradually beginning to establish trust with Hermione. It wouldn't be long until she placed all of her faith in him.
~oOo*oOo~