Falsity
Just A Penniless Writer
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.
Author's Plea: Completely unedited and one big cliche. Enjoy if you can.
Part 8: To Honor the Patron Saint of Drunks
"Your marriage to Mister Malfoy was not long after you resumed your partnership, correct?"
"Obviously."
"And why was that? Was there any... particular reason you wedded so quickly?"
The insinuation was blatant and tasteless. Hermione could not understand how anyone could lack so much tact.
"I suppose there was, though not the reason you may think. For one, it was not my intention to be married so fast, but the situation changed and we felt no need to delay the inevitable. In the end, you are not too far off the mark."
"And why is that, Miss Granger? Are you expecting?"
The assembled spectators gasped. Hermione merely huffed in annoyance.
"Must you be so inane? No, I am not with child, else you would have read it in the Prophet."
"Then why, Miss Granger? Please, spell it out for us."
"In the end, it was all about sex. And blackmail. But mostly sex."
His note had been so deliciously complimenting and apologetic, without any of those ridiculously poetic phrases she loathed so much, and the jewelry so beautiful, without any of the ostentatious snakes the family seemed so fond of, that it had never even occurred to her to refuse. At the dinner, he had been so suave and humble, or rather as humble as he could get, that it had never occurred to her not to forgive him.
But then, perhaps it was because she'd had a rather lot of wine. It seemed he was always there with the bottle, refilling her glass, til she lost count of exactly how many glasses she'd had and only knew that the room was terribly warm and her dress robes terribly clingy.
When he'd given her that half smirk, half smile, she knew there was no other life for her than with him.
"So..." she'd begun in a slightly giddy voice. "You don't care that I am a Mudblood?"
"I care that you are the best. I will have nothing but the best. I will have you."
That statement was so very self assured that she almost pushed through the wine fog and chastised him. Almost.
"Have me, will you?"
"Have you, I will."
She took another sip of her wine. Rather, she took another gulp of her wine and swallowed it thickly as she watched the smirk on his face brighten.
"And so, Miss Granger, do you agree? Are you my betrothed?"
"I suppose. Yes. Yes, I am." She nodded so enthusiastically that the wine glass still clutched in her hand threatened to spill over.
His smirk was every bit as malicious as it was delicious.
"Wonderful. However, I find that you are lacking in one area."
"Lacking?"
"You, my pet, are lacking this." With that, he pulled a small box from his robes and set it before her. Her eyes widened as she went to open it. However, he stilled her hands.
"First, let me know exactly who I am with."
She didn't quite understand what he meant until he pulled out his wand and removed the charm from her hair that she'd applied out of habit to make it Helen's straight, black locks. When the illusion dropped, the bushy brilliance that she'd been cursed with since birth was revealed and she patted it self consciously. However, all was well again with his murmured 'beautiful', even if she did not understand the sentiment.
"Now, you may open it."
With that, she completely forgot about her hair, and that he had never referred to her alter-ego, and that she was, in essence, accepting his gift as no one but Hermione.
With one look at the ring, she completely forgot Helen had ever existed.
"This isn't the same ring."
"No. It isn't."
What he neglected to tell her was that the previous ring had been a very beautiful but very standard engagement ring. This ring, however, was the official Malfoy engagement ring that had been passed down each generation. Rather, it had been passed down since his family had knocked off the previous owners and become the new pinacle of society three generations before.
"It's... beautiful."
"Put it on."
She did so, feeling undiluted feminine joy course through her veins. Really, she'd never fully appreciated the joys of being female until her alliance with Lucius. With that thought in mind, she turned hungry and thankful eyes onto her dinner partner.
He was refilling her wine glass again. A small part of her mind made note of that, but the rest of her was inclined to ignore it.
"I am afraid you are still lacking," he murmured appreciatively.
"What am I lacking now?" she murmured back, ignoring the cry of indignation that came from the same small part of her mind that was taking notes on her wine consumption.
He stood then and walked around the table. Hermione was reminded of a predator and the image brought to mind made her giggle before his finger delicately tracing her collar wiped her mind completely clean.
"Yes... You are missing this."
It took her a minute to realize the weight on her neck had to be a necklace, something he was fond of providing her, and another minute for him to sift through her hair so he could fasten it. His hands remained in her hair when he was done, though whether that was by choice or entanglement was not known. She chose to ignore the reason and instead enjoyed the feeling even as she conjured a mirror to see the new addition to her ensemble. Her drunkness threw off her ability a bit, but even the shiny metal that resulted was reflective enough to show her exactly how much opulence she was adorned with.
"Wow..."
She turned to look up at him in attempt to relay her gratitude in a more satisfactory manner but only succeeded in losing concentration when her eyes met his.
"Now, you are perfect."
She wasn't quite sure how she could be perfect when she was gaping up at him like that, but whatever it was that he saw she certainly wasn't going to argue with it, especially not when he actually bent down and kissed her. She wasn't sure what shocked her more: that he had kissed her, and was kissing her so enthusiastically, or that he had actually lowered himself to do it. That he had only made her respond all the more passionately.
Lucius couldn't be happier. Whether she realized it yet or not, Hermione Granger was now officially his betrothed. Her kiss was a little sloppy from her inebriation, but she would not have been so eager had she been sober, so it was all well. And really, with her hair untamed like this, it made him so much less hesitant to wrap his hands in it -- after all, it was not as if he could muss it up any.
And then she was moving toward him, rising from her chair and bringing her own hands into the fun, and he frankly couldn't care less about her hair when she was doing that delightful thing with her tongue. She seemed to be directing him backwards into the parlour and onto the chaise, and he was not inclined to stop, especially when she climbed on top of him like that.
However, the minute she moved her hips in what was probably an unconscious and timeless move, he remembered why he had never thought to inebriate and take advantage of her before.
"My pet... we must stop."
She ignored him, focussing with her typical single-mindedness on his neck.
"My pet... please stop."
"Why?"
"We must wait til we are wed."
"You would wait even for a show marriage?"
"There will be no show marriage. You've agreed to be my wife."
"Mmmmm?"
"The show has ended. You, Hermione Granger, will be my wife."
She ceased her activity and looked at him dumbly, the wine and her hormones making his statement take some time to process.
"You proposed?"
"And you agreed."
"As Helen."
"I did not ask Helen."
"Oh." She paused. "You tricked me."
"Did I?"
"Yes." However, it seemed to bother her little. In fact, it seemed to make her all the more enthusiastic as she once again attached herself to his neck. He groaned with frustration.
"My pet, stop."
"Why must we wait?"
"Because we must."
"But why?"
"It is only proper."
"Propriety has no business here."
"You must understand, I simply cannot."
"And why not? Am I so undesirable? Why do you want me then?"
The alcohol was making it so much harder to stop her tears from gathering. He took note that the next time he got her drunk, he'd make sure nothing stood in the way of him having her or risk having her turn into an emotional mess, or at least, an emotional mess that he could not profit from.
"It is precisely because you are desirable that I cannot." He paused, preparing for the moment of truth. "There is... a reason I am familiar with the adulterium nequeo curse."
He regarded that perhaps it had been a bit too much alcohol because it was taking her entirely too long to understand his point.
"Oh... You can't..."
"Precisely."
"But..."
"It is a matter of tradition amongst the Malfoy family. Apparently Malfoy women felt it necessary to enforce after a string of disastrous affairs. I had thought perhaps the curse would take my divorce into consideration but apparently not."
"... so Draco was lying about that night with Pansy?"
"Of course."
She snickered. She couldn't help it, and she couldn't even remember why she should try to stop until his smirk took a distinctive turn into a sneer.
"I'm sorry... It's not funny... But Pansy was saying..."
He understood a bit better, but it still didn't make him any happier. After all, when one has a ready and willing female at hand but is unable to take do anything about it, one will be frustrated.
"My pet, I want nothing more than to devour you whole. But until we wed, it is impossible."
"Then hurry up and marry me. I have Plans too, you know."
He smirked at that.
"Two weeks, my pet. Wait two weeks, and you will have me forever."
"You agreed to truly and legally marry Mr. Malfoy so that you could be intimate."
"When you put it like that, it does sound rather bad. But really, I was already in love with him. Considering we'd been playing at marriage, it was only a matter of time before I actually did marry him. But yes, sex was a deciding factor in the rush."
"You are aware that you are not accountable for agreements made under the effects of restricted potions."
"Yes, but there was no potion involved, only simple over indulgence of wine. Besides, ignoring a bit of morning-after insanity, I did not regret the decision."
"Morning-after insanity?"
The headache that greeted her in the morning was not to be rivaled.
The frustration she felt when she realized there was no hangover potion in her cabinet to resolve it made it all the more painful. She would have cursed the day she stopped stocking it in the effort to keep Ron and Harry sober, but cursing would require entirely too much energy and just the thought of cursing made her headache worse.
Such was it that when she finally made it to the Great Hall after most had already left, her first order of business was to trade her usual tea for black coffee.
"Granger!"
Before she'd even managed to take a sip, Draco was upon her with a unquestionably happy expression that was somewhere between smirk and grin.
"I understand congratulations are in order."
She sipped her coffee, trying to block out his voice even as she tried to figure out what in Merlin's name he was speaking of.
"My Father sent this for you. He would have sent it directly but was a bit unsure about publicity."
She took a large gulp of the coffee, managing to burn her throat but feeling a bit more human regardless, before accepting the envelope. Opening it slowly, and taking a break to still her dizzy head, she finally was able to pull enough of her remaining brain cells together to read it.
With a definitive click, she remembered everything.
"I am getting married."
"Yes, you are."
"To Lucius Malfoy."
"He could not be happier."
"Your father."
"Of course."
"Bloody Hell."
"Draco brought Madam Malfoy to me shortly after I recieved an Owl from Lucius. Apparently, he had to Immobilize his prospective step-mother to keep her from harming anyone. I administered a Calming Drought before ending the charm."
"You thought nothing of her reaction?"
"You fail once again to listen. I suppose I should expect as much from one such as you. Madam Malfoy has a volatile nature, and, I quickly discovered, the victim of overindulgence in alcohol. It was every bit understandable."
"And why did Mister Malfoy write to you in regards to his upcoming nuptials."
The Professor sneered unapologetically.
"I assume I was one of the few persons aware of the true nature of their relationship. In addition, he had a favor to ask of me."
"What favor was that?"
"He remembered, as few have, that I retain an unlikely title."
"And that is?"
"I am a superindendent registrar. He wished me to perform the ceremony."