DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also don't own Full House or any of its characters. Heck, I don't own anything except for the clothes I'm wearing, so I'm begging you, please don't sue me.
A/N: College is beginning to take its toll. From now on, you may have to wait a while before updates. Really sorry, but I can't do anything about it. So anyhow, I hope you enjoy this…. R&R!
Chapter 5: We're In Trouble
"Yes! Yes!" Hermione shouted with joy, as she held the manuscript of her first novel in her hands. "I've finished it!"
In fact, that wasn't the only thing she had finished that day. She had also cleaned the house from top to bottom. She cleaned it so well, Draco couldn't say anything to insult her cleaning abilities, which Hermione thought was a first. After that, she went directly to work on her novel, even forgetting to eat lunch (nevertheless not forgetting to feed Crookshanks). It was late afternoon and at last, after almost a year of hard work, she finished it, and the 345-page romance novel was now carefully put inside a white envelope. Hermione cradled it in her arms, like she would her first child, her lips in a wide smile.
Draco entered the living room and saw Hermione, at once taking the opportunity to get into her nerves.
"Congratulations, Granger! You're officially insane!" he teased, walking towards the girl who was standing by her computer on the corner of the living room. Hermione was too happy to snap back and merely smiled at Draco.
"What's that?" Draco asked, trying to grab the envelope from Hermione.
Hermione protectively pulled it from Draco's grasp. "It's the manuscript of my first novel and the only way you can get it is over my dead body,"
Draco laughed. "Yeah right. Like I'd want to read something you've written." He plopped on the couch. "I bet it's a lame story about a flobberworm who fell in love with a leaf of cabbage,"
Hermione pretended to be confused. "Flobberworm? Oh no, Draco, unfortunately, this story isn't about you,"
"Ha ha, Granger. Almost got me there,"
"You know what? I don't care what you think. This novel is going to get published and when I'm rich and famous, I'll conquer the world and send you to Mars," said Hermione, turning off her computer.
"You surprise me, Granger. I thought I was the only one in this room with ambitions of world domination,"
"Well, you don't know me, so buzz off."
Draco yawned lazily. "I will soon enough. I'm going to the banquet tonight..."
"Oh right," said Hermione, pretending she had already forgotten about the event. "That's going to take long, right?"
"Not long enough to get rid of you, unfortunately,"
Hermione threw a candle at him. "You think you're the only one who isn't happy in this situation. Well, you're wrong. When my writing career takes off, I will too, and I can't be happier." With one last glare at Draco, Hermione went into the kitchen.
Draco looked at the computer table and found another thick white envelope. He stood up and went to it.
"Hey Granger! You left your precious manuscript!" he shouted.
"That's a copy! I've got the original with me!" answered Hermione from the kitchen, "But don't dare touch it or I'll kill you!"
Draco smirked and picked up the manuscript. It was entitled "The Room of Innocence". He really wanted to know what it was about, but his pride got in the way. Glancing around to make sure Hermione wasn't looking, he brought out his wand then tapped the manuscript and it vanished. Whistling, he walked away from the computer and climbed the stairs to his room to get ready.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the ravenous Hermione had whipped something up for herself to tide her over. While eating, she was already planning how to convince the publishers in the banquet to let her sign a contract. She was thinking so hard that she didn't notice the wrappers and fruit peelings that were starting to pile up on the counter in front of her. For thirty minutes she ate, while Draco was upstairs, admiring himself in the mirror half of that time. Hermione emerged from the kitchen the same time Draco went down the stairs, dressed in black formal wizard robes.
"I'm going," Draco said, as he made his way to the door. He was about to push aside the sliding doors when Hermione stopped him.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm opening the door, what does it look like?"
"Why?"
"Is that a trick question?" replied Draco, annoyed by Hermione's pointless questions.
"I mean why do you have to open the door when you can just apparate," elaborated Hermione. "Don't tell me you're planning to drive the car to the manor?"
Draco snorted. "Drive the car? Of course not. I'm opening the door because you can't apparate or disapparate in this house,"
Hermione's eyes widened. "Really? I thought you couldn't apparate to go in but you could once your inside---"
"No. I'm making sure none of your freak wizard friends would get in and wreak havoc," snapped Draco. "Now that you've wasted enough of my time, can I go now?"
Hermione grimaced. "Fine! I hope you land into a ditch,"
"You wish," answered Draco and banged the sliding doors behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Hermione hurriedly went to her room upstairs and locked the door. Then, she opened her closet and rummaged for some nice robes to wear. She figured that Draco couldn't do anything if she showed up at the banquet, for fear of his father who didn't know they were living together. Entry wasn't a problem because she had an invitation. The only thing she was worried about as of that moment was what she would wear. She wanted to look decent, respectable; someone the publishers would trust enough to take her word and accept her works. But unluckily, since she had lived in the Muggle part of London for years now, her wizard wardrobe was, let us say, not up to date. She looked sadly at the robes she wore at the Yule Ball years ago. Shaking her head, she shoved it aside and rummaged some more.
Time elapsed quickly and Hermione still had nothing to wear. She squatted on the floor, disappointed that her chance to be free from the monopolizing Draco was thwarted by the lack of decent dress robes. She looked at her old dress robes again. It didn't exactly look old; in fact, if it only fit her, Hermione would have no second thoughts of wearing it. She crawled to the mattress and picked up the robes. Standing up, she took off her shirt and shorts and attempted to wear the robes. Unluckily, she couldn't even get it past her head. She sighed heavily and bowed her head. She saw her wand lying on the floor as she did. At that moment, an idea struck her. Smiling, she picked up the robes again and started to work.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
The banquet was turning out to be a success. About 3/4 of the people invited were seen chatting and drinking with the others. The garden of Malfoy Manor was packed. Tables and chairs draped with red silk covered the grounds. Floating yellow balls of light served to illuminate the darkness of the night. A string quartet was playing in the corner of the large buffet table. The who's who of Wizarding London was present and at the moment, were busy boasting the new jewelry and clothes they had worn for the night. Draco found this extremely boring and spent his time milling around and trying to avoid his father, because he knew that Lucius did not forget what Draco had promised him days ago. He occasionally exchanged a few polite words and waves to those who bothered to acknowledge his presence. While doing so, he kept one eye out for Pansy. She ended up not doing the things she promised him she would do: like call him or invite him to dinner. Draco started to think that Pansy was avoiding him because of what had happened. The thought made Draco want to break Blaise's neck.
"Mr. Draco Malfoy," A voice said behind Draco. Turning around, he saw a tall, imposing man with shoulder length black hair smiling at him.
"Ah, Mr. Isaac Rochester," said Draco, smiling and offering his hand for a shake. "It's nice to see you made time to come,"
Isaac Rochester was one of his father's most cunning business advisers. He was the one who took care of mishaps and the one who made sure they would not happen again. He was a wise, quiet man whom Lucius had trusted to assist Draco in their new business venture; in fact, he was the one who had suggested that MWC merge with a Muggle company to expand its business empire. During the days when Draco was too busy quarreling with Hermione or trying to figure out how to get Pansy to marry him, he represented Draco in the board meetings and made sure that everything went as smoothly as Lucius had wanted.
Since Rochester was very close to Lucius, it is surprising that Draco has not developed any ill feelings towards him. For Draco, he was a shrewd tactician and an invaluable asset to the company but he still managed not to interfere with Draco's personal life and rarely asked him about it, unless it concerned business; something quite opposite to what his father did.
Rochester shook Draco's hand amicably and seemed sincerely pleased to see that for once, Draco was not occupied with disobeying his father.
"How nice to see you, too," he said. "I hope you received the owl I sent the other day, about the upcoming launch the board wanted to hold next month?"
"Ah yes, I have. It's a good idea. But the plan still needs some polishing,"
"We decided not to finalize everything; we wanted to wait for your opinions,"
Draco smiled, trying to hide his guilt; he had not attended even one board meeting yet. "Yes, I will drop by tomorrow, I assure you,"
Rochester nodded. "Then we will be waiting."
"Oh, before I forget, there is something I wanted to give you," said Draco, reaching inside his robe pocket and extracting a white envelope. "Here,"
Rochester took it and looked at it curiously. "The Room of Innocence?" he asked, reading the title written on the front.
"It's a novel. A friend of mine wrote it and I was hoping you would find interested publishers to read it,"
"A novel? And may I know who that writer friend of yours is?"
Draco grinned. "I'd rather not say until you find the publishers. You will find some, I hope?"
"Of course. I will inform you about it when I do,"
"Thank you," said Draco, giving Rochester a pat on the shoulder. At that moment, he saw an awfully familiar back, standing in front of the buffet table just behind Rochester. Squinting, he realized that he was looking at Hermione Granger. It looked like she was wearing a tightly-fitting, knee-length periwinkle dress with billowy sleeves.
"Erm, I'm a bit...thirsty. Do you mind if I leave you and get something to drink?" he asked Rochester.
"Go ahead, Draco. I'll just see you tomorrow?"
Draco smiled and nodded, then left the man and walked briskly to the girl that wasn't supposed to be there.
Hermione, with her back to him, was busy stuffing herself with all the food that could fit her plate. She was munching on a tempura when Draco reached her and whispered viciously in her ear.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Hermione was startled and almost let go of the plate she was holding. "Malfoy!"
"Put down that tempura,"
"What?"
"I said put down that tempura!" Draco tried to reach out and take the shrimp from her right hand, but Hermione walked backward.
"Why would I? It's delicious; you should try it," She brought her attention back on the buffet table and pretended that Draco was not standing beside her, seething.
"Granger, do not annoy me," he hissed. "I told you not to go here,"
"So what if I did? It's no big deal," answered Hermione, munching on a chocolate-dipped strawberry and not even looking at Draco. "Look, let's just pretend we don't know each other. You do your business and chat with your pureblood buddies and I'll just stay here and eat. It's not like we have to tell all of them we're living under the same roof---"
"Shut up!" admonished Draco, becoming nervous at her mention of their current situation. Draco was sure Lucius was going to slit his throat if he found out about it. "And what are you wearing? This is a banquet, not a strip club!"
Hermione glared at him. "These are dress robes for your information. I wore them during the Yule Ball, remember?"
"And why d'you think I would? Did you think I actually looked at you during that ball?" answered Draco, not admitting that he actually remembered the dress. In his memory, they were the dress robes that made him realize that Hermione was a girl.
"What I wear is none of your business. If you don't have anything nice to say, I suggest you stay away from me. And take your hands off that crabstick!" added Hermione, swatting Draco's hand as he reached for a piece.
"We'll talk about this later," Draco said in a menacing voice. "Just make sure you don't do anything stupid." He then got a glass of champagne and walked away. Hermione merely shrugged and continued eating.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Draco had been sipping his champagne and thinking how he would punish Hermione for disobeying him when he felt a soft tap on his shoulder. He turned around and his heart shot up to his throat. It was Pansy, looking particularly ravishing in white robes. She smiled a bit shyly.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you," she said, noticing that Draco had just been brooding.
Draco tried to smile but all his nerves permitted was a small grin. "No, of course not. You look great, as always."
"Thank you," Pansy returned with a wide smile. "I hope we're okay..."
"Okay? Oh, yeah. Sure. We're okay. Okay. We're okay. Right?" Draco mentally kicked himself for being such a blockhead. Pansy didn't seem to bother about his babbling.
"I feel really guilty for not calling you or sending an owl. It's just that I've been busy with the boutique. Half of the people here are my clients, you know. I know I'm making petty excuses again... I'm sorry." She fixed Draco with an apologetic look and reached for his hand.
The warmth of her palm contrasted with Draco's marble-cold one. The familiar feel of their hands together eased Draco and for the first time that night, he genuinely smiled.
"No need to be."
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Hermione had finally drifted away from the buffet table. She decided that with a dress that tight, she should watch what she was eating. She couldn't imagine facing the publishers with a large stomach as though she was four months pregnant.
She walked around, trying to spot people who looked like rich wizards who had Muggle publisher friends. After some time, Hermione realized that merely looking would be fruitless because all of the people in the banquet looked like rich wizards with Muggle publisher friends. And since she was afraid that someone who knew her was among the crowd and would spot her and ask her where she had gone, she went to a quieter part of the grounds. She selected a spot just behind a particularly large hedge shaped like a dolphin and took a seat on the metal bench just under it.
Hermione looked up at the dark blue sky shimmering with stars and sighed. She had never been to the Malfoy Manor before. She had heard about it, of course, from her classmates in Hogwarts. And Draco had always boasted about it, saying that it was half as large as the school with great mullioned windows and a gigantic gate made of pure wizard gold. Hermione had never entirely believed Draco, partly because his description of the manor seemed too fantastical and mainly because he was a liar. But now that she was sitting on a bench right inside the manor grounds and she had seen for herself just how huge the manor was and just how gargantuan the golden gates were, she could only smile in awe. She clutched her bag tighter as a gust of the cold wind passed her. The air smelled of orange and grass.
"Hermione Granger? Is that you?"
Hermione's heart jumped at the voice, confirming one of her worst fears that someone from Hogwarts had come and had finally spotted her.
She turned her head slowly and saw, though it was a bit hard to, the profile of the grown Blaise Zabini, in dark blue robes that perfectly matched the blue eyes looking at her with curiosity and surprise. A grin was on his thin, delicate lips. As he stood there, the wind blew again, ruffling his jet black hair. Hermione felt her jaw drop.
He laughed lightly; a laugh she had never heard him give before.
"I can't believe it. Of all the people I would see tonight,"
Blaise walked toward her slowly as though trying to ascertain that it was really her. Hermione felt self-conscious all of a sudden and stood up quickly. The moment they were about a foot away from each other, Hermione was happy she decided to stand up, or Blaise would've towered over her; he had grown awfully tall since their teenage years; and more handsome, too.
Hermione could only smile. She was left speechless, for once, as she stared at the boy she didn't even pay attention to years ago.
Blaise noticed Hermione's loss of words and decided to fill the silence.
"How have you been? It's been years, hasn't it?"
Hermione merely nodded.
"I see you've changed," he continued in an amused voice, "You've become quieter... and more beautiful."
Hermione felt the color rush up to her cheeks. "Th-thank you. You, too--- I mean, you look, er, nice--- I mean---"
Blaise laughed again. "No need to be shy, Hermione. It's just me." He motioned for her to sit back down again. She sat and he sat beside her.
Hermione had already expected that he would start asking her questions about the past four years, what happened to her, why did she leave, etcetera etcetera. So she was quite surprised when he didn't ask about the past. In fact, he didn't say anything and for minutes they just sat there, staring at the stars, enjoying each other's quiet company.
When another particularly strong gust of wind hit them again, Blaise spoke.
"Are you cold?" has asked kindly, looking straight into Hermione's eyes.
Hermione, who had been rubbing her arms to keep warm, stopped suddenly and tried to look as though the temperature didn't affect her. "I'm fine! I'm perfectly warm, thank you." But her teeth rattled slightly when she spoke. Blaise smiled and moved to take off his coat.
"Oh no! Don't!" said Hermione, holding her hands up for him to stop. "I'm fine... really I am." She smiled to reassure him.
"Really? Because you're lips are turning blue,"
"They are?" Hermione quickly touched her lips.
Blaise laughed again. "I'm kidding." With his hand, he gently held Hermione's wrist and brought down her hand which had been touching her mouth.
Hermione felt herself blushing again, so she looked at the other direction, hoping that Blaise didn't notice.
"So, what's keeping you busy these days?" she inquired, trying to stir up a conversation.
"Well, I've been handling family business. In fact, I'm in charge of everything here in London," explained Blaise.
"Wow, really? Who's helping you?"
"Nobody," he answered, grinning. "Nowadays you have to hold up on your own,"
"You don't know how much I agree with you," replied Hermione. They both laughed.
"How about you? What have you been up to?" asked Blaise.
Hermione decided to leave out Draco in her answer and simply told him that she was a writer.
"A writer?" said Blaise, seemingly very interested. "What do you write, exactly?"
"Fiction. Novels, basically. Short stories, too," said Hermione proudly.
"Really? And how is it going?"
Hermione smiled sheepishly. "Not exactly the way I imagined it would go, but I'm working on it."
Blaise nodded. "Right. You know, I'd like to help you,"
Hermione beamed. "Really? Do you know a Muggle publisher that could get my works published?"
"No I don't," said Blaise. Hermione's face fell at this, but Blaise wasn't finished yet. "But I own a publishing company. Do you think that would help?"
Hermione jumped up from her seat in glee. "Are you kidding? You own a publishing company?"
Blaise shrugged. "Yes. But its' not muggle. It's a Wizarding publishing company, and as of this moment, I'm looking for a writer who could provide us with weekly serials. And you said you write short stories and novels---"
"Yes!" exclaimed Hermione. "Yes I do! Oh my God, you are an angel!"
Blaise laughed. "Well, it depends on how you define angel,"
"You know what, I have a copy of my very first novel here," Hermione said hurriedly, barely containing her excitement. She pulled out the white envelope from her bag and handed it to Blaise, who read the title and looked intrigued. "You can have it. You could read it and you know, probably give me feedback,"
"Yes, I would do that,"
"I can give you a synopsis right now, if you want," volunteered Hermione.
Blaise smiled again. "Bring it on,"
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
"So then, she tells him, 'No! Don't go! I love you!' And she runs after the guy and wham! She gets hit by a truck!"
Hermione was in the middle of her very animated synopsis and Blaise watched her with amusement written all over his face. They both didn't know just how much time had passed. And personally, Hermione didn't care. Now that she had found the person that would save her from Draco's dictatorship, she felt so happy she just had to let it out.
"And then, the guy looks back and sees her lying on the ground unconscious; so he runs back and calls out 'Carmina!'" Hermione said this with all the energy and hand movement that the champagne inside the glass she was holding swirled violently, threatening to spill at any moment
Blaise laughed and clapped his hands. "Hermione that is so funny!"
Hermione was stopped by this remark. "Funny? But--- but this is a romance..."
Blaise suddenly stopped laughing, too and suppressed a smile. "Oh right. Yeah, what I meant was, erm, it was entertaining,"
Hermione laughed weakly. "Right,"
A waiter holding a tray of empty champagne glasses approached them.
"May I take your glass, ma'am?" he addressed Hermione.
"Oh okay, here," Hermione held out the glass and was about to put it on the tray when her fingers slipped and the champagne spilled on the front of her dress.
"Oh my gosh!"
"Hermione!" Blaise stood up quickly and moved toward her. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just my dress," answered Hermione, trying to rub the liquid off her dress. "I hope it doesn't stain,"
"I am awfully sorry, ma'am," muttered the waiter, bowing apologetically.
"No it's okay," Hermione said, dismissing his apology with a wave. "It wasn't your fault." She smiled at the waiter and he left them.
"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" asked Blaise concernedly.
"Of course, it's just a spill,"
"Here, let me help you," offered Blaise. He got out a handkerchief and gently rubbed the stain just above her navel. Hermione felt her cheeks turn red.
"Blaise..." started Hermione, but they were interrupted when a voice called Blaise, too.
"What are you doing?"
It was Pansy, and the look on her face was a mixture of curiosity and jealousy.
"Hermione Granger? Is that you?" she added, noticing Hermione. She drew near them and fixed them both with a questioning gaze.
"Hello, Pansy," greeted Blaise, withdrawing his hand from Hermione. "It's nothing. Hermione spilled champagne on her dress. I was just helping her clean up."
Pansy turned to look at Hermione. Hermione gave her a feeble smile.
"Hi Pansy! Nice to see you again."
Pansy looked at her from head to toe before returning the smile. "Hermione, you look... different,"
"Er, thanks. So, um, I better go to the ladies' room to clean up." Hermione turned to Blaise. "I have to go. Thanks for listening and I hope you like my novel,"
"No problem," answered Blaise with a wide grin. "I'll just send you an owl, then,"
"Yeah. So, erm, bye. Bye Pansy," said Hermione and she retreated, leaving the two alone.
Minutes passed before Pansy began to speak.
"I really don't understand you, Blaise," she said coldly.
Blaise's brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"
"How could you do this to me?" Pansy continued, her voice trembling and tears shining in her eyes. "Can't you see that I like you?"
"Pansy---"
"No! I can't take this. I will not be ignored, Blaise. You can't play with my feelings like you do with your women." Pansy had her fists clenched at her sides.
"Pansy, you don't understand," said Blaise, trying to explain. "You're special to me but, I can't--- I don't---"
"What? What do you mean you can't? You can't like me?"
"It's complicated, Pansy---"
"Try me," Pansy demanded.
Blaise sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Pansy, don't be stubborn,"
Pansy gave a sound of indignation. "Me? That's not enough explanation for me, Blaise. I'm not going to stop asking until you tell me why!"
"It's Draco," mumbled Blaise.
"What about Draco?"
"Pansy, couldn't you see that he loves you?"
Pansy looked like she was slapped. She had to blink a couple of times.
"What are you talking about?"
"He's liked you since we were children, Pansy."
"So that's it? That's the reason why you can't like me?" Pansy was already yelling.
"Pansy, please---"
But Pansy didn't heed Blaise. She furiously wiped the few tears that had fallen and turned her back on Blaise.
"Pansy! Where are you going?"
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
It was late. Draco looked at the time on his watch. He craned his neck, looking around for Hermione. It took him a few minutes before he spotted her, making her way to the buffet table. He approached her and grabbed her arm.
"Hey! Let me go!" demanded Hermione, struggling from Draco's grip.
"We're going home. It's late."
"I can go home by myself, thank you very much."
Draco let go of Hermione's arm. "I said we're going home. So shut up and follow me,"
"You have no right to boss me around, Malfoy,"
"Of course I do. I feed you, remember?"
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Why you stinking, arrogant, lazy---"
"Draco!"
Both Hermione and Draco's heads turned towards where the voice was coming from. It was Pansy, and she was walking briskly toward them, Blaise at her heels.
"Pansy, don't do this," they heard Blaise say to Pansy. Pansy acted as though she heard nothing.
"What's going on, Pansy?" asked Draco as soon as she was near enough. People who had been milling around had started to watch them.
Pansy glared at Draco, with resolve in her eyes. "Draco Malfoy, are you in love with me?"
Draco was taken aback with the question. Even Hermione's eyes widened. The crowd around them began to grow large.
"Pansy, stop this," pleaded Blaise, touching Pansy's shoulder, but she shrugged him off violently.
"I don't understand---" began Draco, completely confused. He looked at Blaise but his only answer was a shake of the head.
"Answer me, Draco, are you in love with me?" yelled Pansy.
Draco looked her in the eye and knew that this time, he couldn't escape. In the corner of his eye, he saw his father, mother and Hermione watching the exchange with shock.
"Pansy---"
"Answer me!"
"I love you!" Draco shouted back, still keeping eye contact with Pansy. "I love you so much, Hermione!" He grabbed Hermione's arm, and then planted his lips firmly on hers.
Everything happened so fast. One moment, Hermione was merely staring at Draco and Pansy; the next, she felt a pull and before she could blink, Draco was kissing her. His soft lips were pressed on hers, and all she could do was close her eyes.
A whirlwind of emotions filled Hermione. She felt like she was spinning and all she could hear was the beating of her heart. Draco's expensive cologne filled her nostrils. A few tendrils of his blonde hair caressed her left cheek. His hand was awfully cold on her wrist. Hermione stopped herself from reaching out and touching his face. All her senses seemed to hold on to that moment, that it took her some time before she realized that Draco's lips were no longer on hers. She opened her eyes slowly and she met his gaze. Silver orbs streaked with blue and gold stared at her with both surprise and curiosity.
"Narcissa!"
Lucius' voice shattered the semi-trance that enveloped the crowd. All turned their heads and as they saw Mrs. Malfoy unconscious in her husband's arms, noise broke out. Cameras started to flash. The smoke covered them that Draco could no longer see Pansy's reaction. He gripped Hermione's wrist harder.
"Let me pass, let me pass." It was Rochester and he was making his way toward Draco and Hermione. "Draco, what's going on?" he asked as soon as he recognized Draco's platinum blonde hair.
"Mr. Rochester?" said Draco, but his voice was drowned by the raucous reporters who started yelling at him and asking him a hundred questions at the same time. Draco let go of Hermione's wrist and draped an arm over her shoulders protectively. They could barely see amidst the purple smoke.
"Malfoy?" he heard Hermione say, slightly coughing.
"Just hold on to me, Granger," said Draco.
Rochester had finally been able to reach them. He steered the two away from the reporters and the crowd which almost squashed them.
"Mr. Malfoy! Are you getting married?" a reporter shouted over the din.
"Mr. Malfoy will answer no questions at the moment!" yelled Rochester. "I suggest you make way and let us pass!"
But the cameras and the voices could not be subdued. Draco was already finding it hard to breathe. Hermione clutched at his robes tightly and fought hard not to faint.
Draco knew his father was already insane with anger and even if he escaped at that moment, he couldn't escape from him forever. He had to deal with what he had done.
They continued walking towards the gates. Rochester's hand was on his back and was pushing him forward; with his other hand he pushed away anyone blocking their path.
It was a difficult ten minutes until they reached the golden gates. When they get past it, they could apparate from the Manor.
"We're almost there, Granger," Draco told Hermione, whose breath was coming in short gasps. He looked at Rochester and voiced out his worry.
"What about Father?"
"I'll take care of it. For now."
Rochester brought out his wand and swished it. The gates opened a little. Draco and Hermione had to make themselves fit the small opening. Draco went first then pulled Hermione away from the crowd. Rochester was left behind and with another flick of his wand, the gates closed.
"Go!" he shouted at them.
Draco didn't have to be told. He clutched Hermione's hand and with two soft pops, they vanished.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Hermione's feet landed unsteadily on the backyard of her house, still holding Draco's hand. But the moment she was able to steady herself, she wrenched her hand from Draco's grip.
"Hey!" exclaimed Draco in surprise. He looked at Hermione but she didn't even glance at him and instead went straight inside the house, banging the door close behind her. Draco hesitantly followed suit. He tried to catch up with Hermione, who was going upstairs, but she was a bit too fast and he ended up having the door of Hermione's room slammed in front of his face.
Draco knocked at the door impatiently. "Granger! Granger, let's talk!"
There was no reply. Draco knocked again. "I said let's talk! Open this door, Granger!"
Draco kept on knocking but it was no use. He gave the door a violent kick. "Fine! Suit yourself!" He headed to his room and also slammed the door closed.
"Damn it," he muttered. He ran his hand through his head in frustration. He had no idea on what to do about what had happened. He knew he should apologize to Hermione, but since she was being her usual obstinate self, he couldn't. And there was still Pansy. And his parents. He paced around the room, trying to come up with something to smoothen things out. But his brain wasn't cooperating. Sighing, he decided to put it off for tomorrow, and got ready for bed. He was already pulling off his shirt when all of a sudden, the door opened and Hermione stormed in.
"What the hell!" Draco cried out, trying to put his shirt back on as quickly as he could.
Hermione gasped in surprise at the sight of Draco's bare chest. She closed her eyes and turned around. "Oh my God, I'm sorry," she said.
"What is your problem, Mudblood!" yelled Draco. It was a moment before he realized what he had said.
Hermione had faced him as she heard the insult. Her eyes were narrowed.
"I take it back. I'm not sorry," she snapped.
"Granger---"
"You think you could play with me, Malfoy? Are you really trying to ruin my life?"
Draco cautiously took a step closer to her. "Granger, let me explain---"
"Shut up! I don't want to hear the lame excuse you've come up with!" she interjected, "Who do you think you are, bossing me around and putting me down? And if that's not enough, you try and seduce me in front of everybody!"
"Granger, I didn't seduce you!"
"Oh yeah? So what exactly did you do? You know, your insults and name-calling I can take but taking advantage of me is something I wouldn't let you get away with!"
"Fine!" said Draco, raising his hands in surrender. "If you really don't want me to get away with it, you can do something,"
"And what is that?"
"Marry me." Draco said, looking Hermione in the eye.
For the second time that night, shock filled Hermione. She stared at Draco, flabbergasted. She had that peculiar feeling of not being able to breathe, not unlike what she had felt when all those reporters cornered them in the Manor. Her knees wobbled a bit.
"W-what did you say?" she asked, almost in a whisper.
Draco swallowed. "Marry me, Granger,"
Draco didn't actually plan on proposing to Hermione. In the ten years he had known her, he had never thought of asking her that question. He surprised even himself. Draco didn't exactly know where that idea came from. Probably it was from his exhaustion or from the lack of something to say. But now that he had said it, he actually thought it was a good idea. Hermione remained speechless, however, and stared at him as though he had sprouted feelers.
"It's not that I'm in love with you or something of the sort," explained Draco hurriedly, before Hermione got any ideas. "It's just that, well, everybody already expects it. You know, after what happened earlier." He cleared his throat to show his awkwardness.
"But that wasn't my fault," said Hermione, finally finding her voice again.
"Yes, but--"
Hermione halted him with a hand. "What you mean to say is that you didn't mean what you said earlier and you're asking me to marry you because you can't take it back?"
"Uh yeah."
Hermione gave a short laugh. "What do you think I am, stupid?"
Draco tried to be patient. "I hate to admit it, Granger, but I need your help--"
"In what? Making me miserable? Don't worry, I always am when I'm with you," interrupted Hermione scathingly.
"No, Granger. Just... try to listen to me first, okay?"
"Whatever."
Draco sighed heavily and then sat on his bed. "I really didn't know why I did it. I was just too..."
"Cowardly to tell Pansy you love her?" Hermione suggested. Draco glared at her. "Well, it's true!"
"Anyway, even if I actually did tell her that I... you know, I don't think I'm ready for it."
"You're not ready to marry Pansy but you're ready to marry me?"
"Like I said, I'm not in love with you," snapped Draco. "So it's a different situation,"
"Yeah sure."
Draco ignored Hermione's sarcastic remark. "I figured that since Father is always nagging me to settle down and stuff, then I will, but not exactly the way he wanted me to do it."
"I get it," said Hermione. "You want to get Lucius insanely angry and you're using me to do it?"
"If you want to put it that way---"
"Boy, Draco, you sure know how to get to a woman's heart," replied Hermione derisively, "I can imagine why Pansy wants to marry you,"
"Ha ha." said Draco. "Are you going to help me or not?"
Hermione grinned evilly. "What's in it for me?"
Draco shrugged. "Okay, fair enough. How about... this house," Hermione's eyes widened. "Yeah, you heard me. After we get divorced, you will get this house and I promise you I'll never bother you again,"
Hermione smiled but then began to be suspicious. "How sure am I that you're going to keep your word?"
"Easy. We'll make a contract."
"A contract?"
Draco nodded. "Sort of like a pre-nup. You give your terms, I give mine. If one of us breaks it, the marriage is off."
"What will happen to me when the marriage is over?"
"You really don't trust me do you?"
"Uh yeah."
Draco shrugged. "If you agree to marry me, you'll be set for life. In case we don't stay married for the period stated in the contract-- which is highly possible-- you'll still get the house and a monthly stipend. How's that?"
"I admit, that sounds good," said Hermione, "but for some reason, I'm not comfortable with this,"
"Granger, all you have to do is say yes."
"What if I don't?"
"I'll kick you out of the house," Draco stated simply.
"Gee, thanks for giving me an option," remarked Hermione sardonically.
"Welcome," Draco smiled.
Hermione stood there, looking at Draco with a calculating gaze, and then walked out of the room.
Draco stood up. "Hey! Where are you going?"
Hermione's head peeked in. "I'm going to type my demands, just so I won't forget anything." She smiled widely at Draco and closed the door.
Draco could only grin.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
The next morning, the two were up early to arrange the contract. They sat at the dining table, facing each other, with a pile of documents type-written by Hermione in front of them. Draco was already in a business suit because he was going to office later that morning. Looking at him made Hermione feel like she was selling her soul to the Devil in an Armani coat.
"This is an absolutely stupid one, Granger," commented Draco, as he went over a page. "Term number one: We shouldn't fall in love with each other," he read, laughing. "Like that would happen."
Hermione tried hard not to blush. "It's just a precautionary measure, Malfoy. Just so we're clear, I'm never going to fall in love with you,"
"Ditto! So why do we need this one? Maybe you should change it to 'We shouldn't kill each other'; that would've been more likely,"
"If you're finished mocking my terms, could you sign it already?" said Hermione acidly.
"All right, all right," replied Draco, scribbling his signature on the paper and turning to another page. "Wow, you really want to make life easier for you, don't you?"
"Well I'm making your life easier for you, so it's only fair," answered Hermione, also scribbling her signature on Draco's terms, trying to memorize as much of them as she could, so he wouldn't have the chance to twist them if ever the situation arose.
"Done?" Hermione asked, looking over at the papers Draco were signing. Draco finished with a flourish and made a thumbs-up sign at Hermione.
"Done!"
"Good." Hermione offered her hand and Draco shook it to seal the deal. Then he stood up and picked up his briefcase from the floor.
"I'm going now,"
"Okay." Hermione smiled at him.
"Clean the house," commanded Draco.
"Yes,"
"Scrub the bathroom tiles,"
"Uh huh,"
"And try not to break anything while you're at it,"
Hermione gritted her teeth. "Just go. Please."
Draco turned his back on Hermione, walked away and was just about to exit the kitchen when he looked back again and raising a finger said,
"And don't forget, no magic."
Hermione's jaw dropped. "But the contract says I can already use magic!"
"I hate to break it to you, Granger, but we're still not married." Draco smirked. "Have a great day!"
Hermione buried her face in her hands. "I'm going to be married to him for six months," she muttered. "I'll probably be dead by the second week."
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Draco rode the elevator to the top floor of the main building, where his office was located. He had to admit, even though he was used to tall imposing buildings with polished oak furniture, nothing could have prepared him for the Muggle version of it. For the first time in his life, he was alone in the elevator, without twenty flying paper memos noisily flapping around him.
Outside the elevator, everything was weirder. Draco did not see numerous wizards popping in and out of the place and no inanimate object was moving by itself. The floor wasn't littered by owl droppings and most importantly, the people were not wearing wizard robes and pointed hats. They even seemed nicer there. They politely nodded and smiled at Draco, though it was apparent that they didn't exactly know who he was but were just assuming that he was related to another platinum blonde-haired man who was often seen talking with Edilbert Maverick, the big boss.
Draco did his best to seem sociable, or at least sociable enough to not be given looks of pure loathing, the ones they gave him back at the Wizarding Office. He walked the long halls lined with oak cubicles, occupied by seemingly diligent employees, typing noisily on their computers. He also passed different portraits made by famous Muggle painters. At the end of one, there were huge double doors, which, as soon as Draco was close enough, automatically opened, revealing a room with nothing but a huge desk and another door.
Behind the desk was a red-haired young woman who was currently filing her nails. The sight of Draco surprised her and her jaw dropped; so did the nail file. Draco grinned. He knew he had a strong effect on women.
"Good morning," he greeted, trying his best to look extraordinarily charming.
The young woman blushed before giving her a timid smile. "Good morning, sir,"
"I'm Draco Malfoy, and I assume that you know why I'm here,"
The woman hurriedly stood up. "Of course, Mr. Malfoy, sir. Welcome to your office,"
Draco nodded appreciatively. "Thank you. And may I know the name of the gorgeous woman that I have the pleasure of speaking to?"
She giggled at the compliment, but held her hand out. "I'm Stacy Milton, sir. Your secretary,"
Draco held her hand but instead of shaking it, he gripped it tighter. "Looks like I got pretty lucky." He grinned suggestively. Stacy replied with another flirty giggle.
Draco was just about to ask more about his attractive secretary when the door of his office opened and his father emerged, the graveness in his eyes betraying his calm face. Stacy quickly let go of Draco's hand.
"Your father is here to see you, sir," she said quietly.
"Yes, I was expecting him," answered Draco, keeping eye contact with Lucius. "I'll be going in now, Stacy,"
"Yes sir."
Lucius held the door open for Draco and he went in, trying to hide the fear he had felt at seeing his father's face. Lucius calmly sat on the big armchair behind the imposing office table and then motioned for his son to sit at the smaller swivel chair opposite him. Draco grimaced but conceded.
"So, Draco," began Lucius, in a cool voice, resting his elbows on the arm rest and slightly interlacing his fingers in front of him. He fixed Draco with a stare that clearly demanded his son's attention. Draco nodded to show that he was listening.
"What in Merlin's name did you do last night?"
Draco did not dare break eye contact with his father. He swallowed and answered in a way that he hoped seemed convincing.
"I did what I should have, Father,"
"Really? You think so?"
"Yes, Father,"
Lucius' lips curled into a small smirk. "Boy, I thought I asked you to propose to Pansy Parkinson. But you proposed to that filthy--- muggleborn." The contempt he felt towards the kind showed in the steely glint in his eye. "I didn't tell you to do that."
Draco licked his dry lips. "Father, you told me to get married, did you not?"
"Yes---"
"Then I suppose that I have the right to choose who I'm going to marry,"
Lucius was surprised at his son's daring. "You suppose wrong, boy. Do you know what embarrassment you have brought our family? How stupid you are!" he spat.
"It doesn't matter who I wed, Father. The children would still be Malfoys---"
Lucius banged a hand on the table. Draco cringed slightly. "Malfoys are pure-blooded!" he said, his anger now beginning to be more evident. "I will not let Malfoy blood be tainted with dirty Muggle blood!"
"Father--"
"This will not do, Draco! There will be no excuses, boy! You will break off whatever you have with this--this Mudblood and you will propose to Pansy Parkinson!"
Lucius breathed heavily. Draco merely watched him with a rebellious gaze.
He let his father calm down a bit before speaking.
"I will not, Father." he said with a tone of finality. Lucius' eyes widened at this, and in a moment, he was up on his feet.
"What did you say, boy?" he asked, almost whispering.
"I said I will not break anything off with Hermione." He said her name in such a way that it made Lucius even more furious. His father's lip curled and slowly, he reached for his cane on the side of the table. Draco darted a look at it and swallowed. He knew what was going to come next.
"Do you dare disobey me, Draco? Do you not know who I am?" spoke Lucius, his voice dripping with venom.
Draco stood up, too. He was not going to take everything sitting down.
"I know who you are. That's why I'm doing this."
"What?"
"I will live my own life from now on, Father. I'm not going to let you live it for me. And I will do what I wish."
To Draco's astonishment, Lucius began to laugh. A low rumbling laugh which escalated to a maniacal one. Draco stood there, his father's mocking laughter echoing in his ears. After some moments, Lucius stopped.
Brushing strands of blonde hair so like Draco's own from his face, he fixed his son another glare.
"Draco, Draco. Now I know why you did such a ridiculous thing. You want to spite me, is that it? You want to rebel against me, don't you? You want to anger your dear old father..." Lucius held a hand to his chest and grinned. "You hurt me," he said sarcastically. "You're destroying your whole future, the future of the Malfoy clan because you want to get to me. Pathetic. And here I was thinking I raised you right."
Draco gritted his teeth. He actually expected this to happen, for his father to figure out what he was doing; he didn't become one of Voldemort's most trusted servants for nothing.
"Come now, Draco," continued Lucius, approaching his son, a hand outstretched. "Don't be such a fool. Stop all this child's play right now. Do what I want you to do and everything will be all right--"
"No. I've had enough of you're manipulating, Father." Draco replied, summoning all his courage. "There would still be a marriage, as I have promised you. But Hermione Granger will be my bride."
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Hermione was sitting in front of her computer that afternoon, trying to squeeze her brain for ideas. She had been slumped there for about an hour but she hasn't even filled a page yet. She picked up the glass of water beside the keyboard and took a swig. Her computer table was already littered with potato chip wrappers, half-eaten chocolate bars, a bowl of peanuts and a pitcher of cold water which was little by little warming up, it's moisture, dripping onto the wooden surface, but Hermione barely noticed.
"How am I going to make him come back?" she said, talking to herself. "Perhaps, I could make the girl fall in love with another guy and then he comes back and finds out and then-- then what?"
She sighed heavily as her train of thought once again vanished. Hermione absentmindedly scratched her head with the pencil she was holding. She scrunched up her face in thought but nothing came out.
Then, the doorbell rang. Hermione was startled and almost fell off the chair. The doorbell rang again. She quickly stood up and dusted the crumbs off the front of her shirt.
"Wait a minute! I'm coming!"
She ran the length of the living room, opened the sliding doors into the foyer and pulled the door open.
"Yes, Good--"
But Hermione wasn't able to finish her sentence because the sight in front of her stunned her. It was Ned and Sheila, holding a bouquet of flowers and beaming at her as though they just didn't make her life a living hell.
"Congratulations!" They shouted in unison, positively giddy with happiness.
Hermione could only stare. Her friends didn't seem to notice that she was in a state of shock, however, and forced themselves inside the house before Hermione could react.
"We've missed you sooooo much!" said Sheila as she stood in the foyer, an arm linked around her husband's. "How was the workshop? Did you learn loads? Who did you meet?"
Ned looked on eagerly for Hermione's reply. But she didn't even make a sound and just kept staring at them. So Ned took the initiative and shoved the bouquet of flowers into Hermione's arms.
"For you! They're lilies, your favorite!" he announced, as though Hermione was blind and couldn't see what kind of flowers they were.
Finally, Hermione blinked. Apparently, she was hoping that what she was seeing was merely an apparition of her friends and was actually not real and was just due to being in front of the computer for so long. But as the scent of the lilies wafted to her nose, her senses were awakened and they finally confirmed that she was not just having a nightmare.
"Ned? Sheila?" she mumbled softly.
Sheila laughed. "Who did you think we were, silly!"
The couple, without a sign of awkwardness, continued their way to the living room. The sight of all the expensive furniture astonished them.
"What do you have here, Hermione?" said Ned, money signs practically dancing over his eyes.
"Wow!" exclaimed Sheila, touching the nearest porcelain vase. "I've seen one of these at our house! My mother never allowed me to touch it because she said it was so expensive!"
"Hey look at this!" said Ned, approaching a golden Egyptian statue of the god Anubis. "Is this pure gold?"
The two continued on prying and poking everything they laid their eyes on, paying Hermione the least bit of attention. They sat and bounced on the soft couch, played with the TV remote, turned on the stereo and even eating the left-overs of Hermione's chocolate bars, while Hermione just stood there and watched them unbelievingly.
"Where did all of this come from? I thought we had all of Hermione's money?" Sheila wondered loudly. What she said snapped Hermione out of her stupor; and faster than Ned and Sheila knew what was going on, Hermione was already on them, whacking them both with the bouquet of flowers they had given her.
"How dare you! How dare you!" yelled Hermione, while hitting Ned's back, petals flying over the place.
Sheila tried to stop Hermione at the same time trying to protect herself. "Hermione, stop! Stop!" she shouted, covering her face with an arm. Her husband remained helplessly bent, afraid that if he exposed even an inch of his face, she was going to rip it off.
"How dare you barge in here and act as if you haven't ruined my life! I hate you! I hate you! I HATE YOU!"
Nothing remained of the bouquet when Hermione finished, only limp stems and crumpled plastic. Sheila had finally been able to push Hermione away from her husband and was now tending Ned, careful to keep a considerable distance between them and the bushy-haired woman.
Although she had stopped whacking, Hermione kept on yelling.
"And I thought we were friends! But noooooo! You took everything away from me and now look at what's happened to me! My cat is hungry, I'm poor and I'm living with the most arrogant human being on earth! And it's all because of you! I hate you! I will never forgive you!"
Ned, still wincing, tried to calm his friend down. "Hermione, please, we're sorry! That's why we're here, we wanted to apologize!"
"Bullshit! I don't need your apology! I need my money back!"
"Like we told you, we still have to get jobs--" said Sheila, pleading.
Hermione turned a deaf ear to her. "You should pay for this! I will sue you! I will make sure you both go to prison!"
Both Ned and Sheila cringed at the mention of prison.
Ned tried again. "Please, Hermione, don't be angry anymore. I mean, look what you have now? You're richer than you were before! And you'll be richer, now that you're getting married and you don't need us to pay you back--"
Hermione held up a hand to stop Ned. "What did you just say?"
Ned blinked. "Erm, I said, you're going to be richer--"
"No, before that,"
"Uh, that you shouldn't be angry anymore?"
"No! After that!"
Ned looked lost. He glanced at Sheila and she hesitantly spoke, "That you're getting married?"
Hermione's jaw dropped. She felt like her knees were going to give way. She unceremoniously flopped down on the closest chair.
This could not be happening, she thought, astounded.
She looked at Ned and Sheila, waiting for an answer. But they were mirroring the questioning gaze she held. She desperately wanted to know how on earth they knew about that. She had to open and close her mouth several times before her voice came out.
"How-- how did you find out?" she asked weakly.
Ned shrugged. "In the newspaper,"
Hermione felt faint. "N-newspaper? I-- I don't-- do you have a copy of it?"
"Oh yeah! I have it here!" said Sheila, rummaging inside her bag. "Got it!" She cautiously approached Hermione, half-expecting her to bite her arm off, but Hermione just grabbed the newspaper and took a look.
She didn't even have to scan it. The news of her marriage to Draco was on the front page.
"How could this happen?" she asked more to herself than to her friends. The headline said "Son of Top Business Mogul To Be Wed". Then there was a picture of Draco, incredibly handsome in a business suit and, much to her surprise, there was even one of her. She was wearing the periwinkle robes she had worn to the banquet. Hermione realized that it had been taken during the banquet, which puzzled her even more. She knew that it was a wizarding event. So how could Muggle newspapers get hold of the picture? And the biggest question was, how did they find out about their (Draco and hers) decision to get married? The multitude of questions and consequences piled into her brain that she felt nauseated.
"What's wrong, Hermione?" Sheila inquired, taking a tentative step toward her friend, Ned at her heels. "You looked more shocked than any of us were,"
Hermione gave a feeble laugh. "You have no idea,"
"What do you mean? Isn't it true?" Ned asked.
Hermione sighed. "It is," she admitted, finding no reason to lie about it, since it was already on the papers. "I just-- we wished to keep it secret. At least for some time." She looked her friends in the eye, to see if they believed her excuse. To her relief, Sheila burst into giggles.
"Oh! You two are so cute! A match made in heaven!" she remarked.
Hermione snorted.
"So where did you meet him?" asked Ned, taking a seat on the couch, eager for a story.
"I, uh, we, uh, we... met in school," she stammered, nervously fidgeting with some strands of her hair. She gave them a small smile.
"School? You mean, in Russia?"
Hermione blinked. "Huh?"
Sheila sighed. "You told us you went to school in Russia, remember?"
Hermione remembered her fabricated story and nodded quickly in agreement. "Oh yeah. Yes, that's it. In Russia." She made a mental note to tell Draco about their "meeting in Russia"; just in case he met Sheila and Ned and things get complicated.
"And?"
"And what?"
"How was he? Did he like you first or was it the other way around? He looks really handsome in the picture; I bet you were the one pining for him. You're really not that beautiful to look at, you know. You probably looked geekier during high school--" Hermione shot Sheila a death glare and she retracted her statement. "I mean, of course, he saw how pretty you were and how smart you were. God, he's one lucky man!" Sheila laughed nervously. Ned joined in.
"Ha ha." said Hermione sarcastically. "You think I've forgotten everything, don't you? Out!" She stood up and pointed the two to the door. "We're not going to be friends again, that easily,"
Ned and Sheila also got up and began to protest.
"Come on, Hermione! We're best friends! Please, forgive us already!"
"Nope. You're not going to get away with it, this time, Ned. Out!"
Hermione walked towards them and they walked backwards.
"But you're going to invite us to the wedding, right?"
"Oh yeah, sure, if you could come up with the money by that time, I'd love to invite you!" replied Hermione sardonically.
"Hermione--"
"Out!"
"Hermione!"
"Uh uh. Out!"
Ned and Sheila had reached the front door by then. Hermione continued to advance towards them.
"Don't do this, Hermione. You're going to need us, I assure you," said Ned.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Sure. Whatever."
With one long stride, she reached the couple, turned them around, opened the door and pushed them out roughly.
"I don't need to remind you that you deserve this, don't I?"
Sheila scowled. "We'll be back, Hermione. You can't live without us!"
Hermione didn't even reply and merely shut the door on their faces. Then, satisfied though still bothered, she went back to her computer, the newspaper article still in one hand. As she sat on swivel chair, she browsed through the article again. She seriously considered giving Draco a call, just to let him know that trouble was brewing but she hesitated; he was probably in a business meeting and if she disturbed him, he'd probably make her clean the toilet bowl again. She sighed. This was not good.
When she was about to continue her work, the door bell rang again.
"What the--"
It seemed that Ned and Sheila weren't giving up that easily, too.
With a scream of frustration, she ran to the door, determined to frighten the two away as fast as possible. But when the door opened, Ned and Sheila weren't the ones standing in the doorway. It was a man, wearing what seemed like a bellboy uniform, and was currently smiling at her pleasantly.
"Good day, Miss Granger,"
Hermione nervously shifted her weight from one foot to another. "Er--"
But the bellboy didn't let her finish and continued talking. "I am here to escort you to the Malfoy Manor. Mistress Narcissa Malfoy and Madame Maud Malfoy are requesting your presence," he said rapidly.
"Narcissa? Narcissa wants to see me?" asked Hermione in surprise.
"Yes, Miss Granger. And I am to take you to the Manor, right away."
Hermione instinctively touched her hair, suddenly conscious of her appearance. Nervousness began to take over. "B-but I don't think I'm ready,"
"I beg your pardon?"
"I mean-- I still have to change clothes and er, fix my hair," she explained weakly.
"I do not think there will be time for that, Miss Granger. I ask you to kindly follow me." He stepped sideways and made room for Hermione, but she was still in shock.
"You mean now? As in this minute?"
"Yes."
"Are you kidding?" she exclaimed, panicking. "I can't go there looking like this!"
The bellboy seemed impatient. "I am afraid your appearance will have to do. Please, follow me,"
Hermione continued to protest, but the bellboy had already gotten hold of her arm and was forcing her out of the house. "No wait!"
Just outside the white fence, a shiny black limousine was parked, apparently waiting for her. Hermione's eyes widened.
"I'm going to ride a limousine to the Manor?"
"Not exactly," the bellboy replied.
As they reached the vehicle, he opened the door for her and pushed her in rather forcefully.
"In you go!"
"Wait!" called Hermione, holding the car door open. "You can't do this!"
"I am sorry, Miss Granger, but if the Mistress requests your presence, then she will get it."
The bellboy gave her one last smile and pushed the door close with all his might. Hermione was determined to get out of the vehicle. But before she could do anything, her surroundings began to swirl in front of her eyes.
"What's going on?"
It only took a few seconds. It was too late to get out because then she realized she was no longer inside the limousine. She had fallen painfully on her butt on a carpet, at the center of a huge hall, with walls lined up with paintings; moving paintings which watched her with calculating eyes. Tall candleholders were scattered all over the place, each taper emitting bright red fire. She looked up at the high ceiling painted with a fresco of angels with somber faces, gliding amidst pastel blue clouds. The entire place looked like a cross between a cathedral and a gothic funeral home. She shivered slightly noticing the cold draft sweeping the place.
Slowly, she picked herself up from the floor and tried to straighten her clothes. Everything was quiet until a voice broke the silence.
"So, you are Hermione Granger,"
Hermione spun around and saw two women. One was Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother, dressed in elegant midnight blue robes, rich blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. At first, Hermione had to squint to make sure it was her, for the haughty look that usually occupied her face was gone and was replaced by a look of apprehension.
Hermione's gaze transferred to the other lady. She had never seen her before, but she was pretty sure she was also a Malfoy. The woman was old, but she had prominent Malfoy features: regal bearing, steely silver eyes and blonde hair, which had gone whiter through the years, changing the color from platinum blonde to light lemon yellow, tied up in an elegant bun at the nape of her neck. She was wearing gray robes which matched her eyes perfectly; those eyes which looked at Hermione with clear dislike.
"So, you are Hermione Granger," she repeated. "I am Madame Maud Malfoy, Draco Malfoy's grandmother. And to be honest with you, Miss Granger, I don't like you at all."
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Next Chapter: Hermione meets the family and the wedding of the century takes place. Or not.
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A/N: How'd you like it? 22 pages of sweat and toil, people. You know, I found out that people actually have alerts on this story; it makes me wonder why I don't get many reviews… to all the guys who read this story, please try and review. I'd really appreciate it. Flames are welcome, as long as they're connected to the story; because I encountered one not criticizing the story but Asians in general! Imagine that! He/She/It pissed me right off. I think the review doesn't show on the review page, but if it does on yours, well then at least you know what I'm talking about. To that flamer/racist: get a life. But to the others, much love! Till next time!