Falsity
Just A Penniless Writer
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.
Author's Plea: My narrative voice seems to be missing. I don't know where it went. But I sure do miss it. My dialogue is stilted without it. Next chapter before Christmas, I promise. Enjoy if you can.
Part 8: A Flair for the Dramatic
"Professor Snape, you have related that you were under the belief that Mr. Malfoy knew of Miss Granger's identity from the beginning. What then did you believe was the cause of their argument?"
"I thought nothing of it. There was little need to speculate, especially with the Prophet spouting enough rubbish for the lot."
"And why did you not consider that you were misled?"
"For one, I never expected that dunderhead to be capable of Occlumency. Perhaps Draco is worthy of Slytherin after all."
"What else?"
"What you miserable excuses for wizards fail to understand is that Lucius is nothing if not volatile. Similarly, Madam Malfoy is much like a spark -- she is rather prone to arguments. It was only a matter of time before an argument occurred and it did not concern me, as it should not have concerned anyone but them. However, it seems they once again read it correctly and used your mindlessness to their own advantage."
"How so?"
"They turned themselves into a spectacle, and now you will turn them into martyrs."
"Aren't you being perhaps a tad dramatic?"
The glare he received was answer enough.
Draco had, early in their acquaintance, made Hermione cry numerous times. However, fewer and fewer of his insults fazed her over the years and certainly none as much as this.
This... this was disgusting. With the puffy face covered in red splotches, the tears forming a revolting sheen, the loud sniffles that made him cringe... while he wasn't sure why his Father wanted such a person, he knew it was in his best interest to get her back to her scheming, Lucius-loving self.
"Granger."
"Go away!"
"Granger!"
"I said, go away!"
"How do you expect me to understand you through all that disgusting noise you are making. Clean yourself up, Granger, and stop looking like a common Mudblood."
He wasn't sure what curse she tried to hit him with, but he was mighty glad her tears threw off her aim, if the oozing substance coating the wall was any indication.
"Go away, Ferret!"
"Granger, just stop your blubbering and listen!"
"There's nothing to say!"
"Listen to me!"
"NO!"
"He loves you!"
"He loves Helen!"
"Helen IS you!"
"No, Helen is a pureblood. Helen has class and style. Helen is everything he wanted."
"Granger, you are Helen, even though you have fil- Muggle parents. Everything he loves about Helen is you."
"Regardless, he's such a bigoted bastard that he'll never accept me now that he knows who I am. And I don't want to be with someone who truly believes I'm less simply because of who my parents are. The stupid egotistical man ruined everything with his bloody prejudice!"
"Granger!"
"What!"
"My Father is not a bastard!"
"I don't care!"
"Sure you do! You care a lot! I've seen the way you look at him! You care for him, and you care that this is hurting him!"
And he was right. Whatever expletives Hermione could use to describe Lucius, she certainly did care that her actions had hurt him. The fight drained out of her, leaving bitter grief in its wake.
"I do care. But it was not the lie that hurt him but his own prejudice. Had it been a pureblood under Helen's illusion, this wouldn't have happened." She paused to pull herself together, and Draco reflected later that she was every bit dramatic as his Father, yet another sign they were meant to be.
"I care," she continued as she walked towards the door, "but it doesn't matter because I can never be with a supremacist, and he'll never change his ways."
Whatever impressive exit she intended to make was overshadowed by Draco's sudden inspiration. After all, his Father wasn't the only person in his family with melodramatic tendencies.
"Don't do anything rash," he ordered. "I have an idea!"
"What was this grand idea?"
Draco stared at the clerk with an expression he hoped relayed how entirely hopeless he viewed him to be.
"I Owled my Mother, of course."
Lucius refused to call his behavior 'moping'. Because he was not moping. A man of action such as himself simply did not mope. No, he was merely reflecting at length on the sad turn of events regarding Helen. It wasn't moping at all.
The difference in definition did not occur to his ex-wife.
"Lucius, dear, thank you for coming. Draco was afraid you would stay in the Manor to mope some more."
"I was doing no such thing."
"Of course not. Cognac?"
"Please."
Once the brandy had been served and the pleasantries dispensed, Narcissa finally decided it was time to find out exactly what was going on with her former husband. For a woman of action such as herself, the formality she had been bred into quickly wore out its welcome. Now she was interested in Plotting, but first, the requisite Gathering of Information through Whatever Means Necessary.
"Lucius, dear, why have you been moping? Draco has been dreadfully worried about you. Is it the woman from the Prophet?"
He eyed her suspiciously. The invitation alone had been enough to warn him of interference, but her interest was most definitely making him question his acceptance.
"I may have... overlooked something significant. The woman I planned to marry was not who I believed her to be."
Her eyes sparked, and he was reminded forcibly of the day she announced their divorce.
"And what was she? A Muggle-born, perhaps?"
"How much did Draco tell you?"
"Enough."
They paused for a well-timed drink. The cognac was fortification in and of itself, though he did wonder if she hadn't added a certain tasteless truth serum to his cup. But then, perhaps it was simply that telling the truth, or a truthful version, was becoming habit.
"I wish I could be angry at her for deceiving me, but it was so well done, I simply cannot. If anything, I want to admire the girl for such a grand performance."
His eyes widened. That was certainly not what he had intended to say. Her demure smirk, hidden partially by her glass, was answer enough.
"Then do so."
"She is a Mudblood. It truly is such a waste of potential."
"Then do not let it be wasted. Really, Lucius, if you want her then take her. Are going to let something like blood keep you from having what you want?"
"You have become rather open-minded."
"No, I have simply decided to take what I want, even if that may be a Muggle who showers me with expensive gifts. The cognac is from him."
"Indeed."
"I thought so. It is so terribly difficult to find worthy cognac."
"Almost seems a waste to use it as the carrier of Veritaserum."
They paused to enjoy the gift before continuing.
"She will always be a Mudblood."
"Think of her as the exception."
"Regardless, I will always be a supremacist."
"Then be your own supremacist. You already consider Malfoys to be above all. Is it really so far a stretch to consider Mudbloods and disreputable purebloods equally revolting?"
"Three decades of belief cannot be washed away so simply."
"Then marry her now and use the rest of your life to see what she sees -- and change it. Really, Lucius, you were not so blind when I married you. Though perhaps you were, listening to my dear sister regarding the Dark Lord and whatnot."
He nodded stiffly and took another sip of the spiked cognac. It was certainly worth the truth to drink it.
"There is always a matter of the public. We were highly successful in bringing our relationship to light. Now, I wonder if it was a folly."
Narcissa closed her eyes slowly, a sign of irritation well known to him.
"Truly, you are out of practice. There is no one that can stop you from marrying the girl; no one else knows who she is. And once you are wed, there will be no way for it to be annulled quickly. As for public opinion, it can only benefit you. Why, think of it Lucius! You have already publicly visited a Muggle restaurant on her behalf. How could you possibly prove your acceptance of the new society without marrying a notable Mudblood? No one could possibly doubt your sincerity then."
"And those that did could say nothing, or risk being brought to the Ministry's attention."
"Of course."
She paused thoughtfully before continuing.
"Then, there is the matter of your affliction. Did the curse pick up again? Has it been upsetting you?"
"She is a beautiful young woman," he stated baldly.
"Perhaps. Still, for that alone I see only how marriage could benefit you. Truly, it would be a folly to refuse this opportunity on the basis of prejudice. At least admit her as an exception. Hate whom you will, but do not let it interfere with your happiness. That is not the Lucius Malfoy I know so well."
"I am a changed man."
"Not fundamentally. You still think solely of yourself. You simply need to prioritize."
He smirked lightly.
"Where did you learn these delightful phrases?"
She returned his smirk.
"My Muggle is a motivational speaker, and that is exactly as it sounds."
"Curious that Muggles would need such a thing."
"Not so. It is a new form of persuasion that works very well. You should consider it."
"I shall. It would work wonderfully on Miss Granger."
"Ah. My suspicions were correct."
"Really."
"After you stared so maliciously down at her some years back, I always knew she would be trouble. Though I never suspected this."
"And that is why our upcoming marriage will never be forgotten."
"Just do take care of this matter quickly. It is upsetting Draco."
"He is not upset over my interest in his schoolmate?"
"Why would he be, dear? You have given him all he has ever wanted."
"A new mother?"
"Of course not. You are now in his debt forever."
"After you discussed the situation with your ex-wife, what did you decide to do?" the Auror asked flatly.
"I did what any smart man would do in such a situation: I promptly sent an Owl loaded with my apologies and jewelry. I requested her presence at dinner, and I ensured I was persuasive enough during our meal that she agreed to continue with the arrangement."
"She agreed to play as your fiancée once more?"
"I never said play -- a fact she was quick to pick up on only after we had finalized our agreement."