Hermione Malfoy, Chapter Eight

A/N:  Umm…whatever you asked, consider it answered…or ask again so I'll remember next time.

Getting back in Hermione's good graces would have worked much better if the wench would let him talk to her.  Instead, she constantly engaged in conversation with his mother. 

A mother and daughter-in-law conversing amicably…

Why did this kind of unnatural occurrence only happen in his family?  Draco rolled his eyes.  He had to ask.

Two days.  48 hours.  At least 18 of which would be spent in close quarters with Hermione.  Hopefully, they would not be a repeat of last night's experience, wherein she surrounded him with a silencing spell and had sparks jump out at him if he came within two feet of her.

There was a possibility she was still mad.

Unfortunately, he knew from personal experience that she wasn't the type to let these kind of misunderstandings just blow over.

He would need help from someone with experience.

The person who seemed to piss her off most was Ron Weasley, but the likelihood of Ron thinking his way out of her ire was up there with Potter lying his way out.

Fucking goody-goody.

'Twas enough to make any self-respecting Slytherin nauseas.

Draco listed possible candidates to give him…he shuddered…advice.

All of his friends were idiots, save Blaize Zabini, who was still pissed about the 'gender clarification' comment.

Seriously, no one could take a joke anymore.  It was pathetic. 

It wasn't Draco's fault Zabini actually took his advice.  How was he supposed to know that kind of spell turned one from a man to a woman every other day?  Honestly.

You'd think there was no cure from the glares he'd been receiving.

Blaise actually looked rather good in female form, she should be thanking him.

Bloody hermaphrodites.

She'd probably just lie if he asked her advice anyway.  Pissing off a Slytherin was unwise enough if they were male.

So…on to the Gryffindor list.

Ron was out.  Fighting before lunch was so unappetizing.  And he'd rather shower with the Hufflepuff Boy's Club than ask Potter.

So that really just left one possibility…

***

"Hey Weas-Ginny!"

Ginny's eyes widened to find her best friend's husband running toward her.

"Uhh…hi," she blinked up at him in confusion, hoping his sudden appearance had nothing to do with the sex discussion he'd stumbled on.

"Hi," he looked around suddenly, "Are you headed to class?"

"Well, I would have been in half an hour, but I have Defense Against the Dark Arts," she shrugged, "So I guess not."

Draco frowned, "So…you don't like that class?"

"Uhh…the teacher left, didn't you hear?"

"Bloody hell," he muttered, "You'd think they could try to at least stick out the year."

Ginny shrugged, "Fine with me.  So did Hermione want something or…?"

"Right, listen," Draco swallowed, "You've known Hermione awhile, right?"

"Yeah…"

"So if you had, hypothetically, pissed her off in some way, what would you do about it?"

Ginny smirked at him, "First fight?"

"No!" he snapped, "We've…fought before," Draco pouted.

"Then I'm sure you're a pro at this," she grinned, walking around him.

"Hold up," his fingers cut into her arm, spinning her back around.  "Perhaps we've never been very good at making up."

"You try sex?" Ginny laughed at the look on his face.

He mumbled something, looking down.

"What was that, Malfoy?"

"She won't let me close to her."

"Don't tell me you're not smooth enough to talk your way into her pants, Malfoy.  If she fell for it once, she's sure to do it again."

"It's a little hard to do when the only time she doesn't break out a silencing charm is when my mother is in the room!"

Ginny laughed in delight, "What did you DO, Malfoy?"

"Just tell me how to get her to lift whatever force field charm she has around her."

"Oh, no, Malfoy, first you tell me how you managed to piss off your bride so quickly."

He scowled at her.  "Gryffindor's honor you won't tell anyone?"

She lay her hand on her chest solemnly.

"There may have been an incident where I yelled at her after my mother caught us snogging."

"Ahhh…" Ginny struggled to keep a straight face, "Well, that falls into an area of very grave male sin.  Not considering her feelings."

***

Draco swallowed.  That sounded like something his mother bitched to his father about.

Considering what an insensitive prick Lucius had been, it might be prudent to just confine Hermione to the list of the unshaggable.

But he just hated to do that without photographic proof of lesbianism.

For Draco liked to think that he could have any woman he wanted…that wasn't gay or married.

True, Hermione was married, but to him, so that didn't count.

In fact, it was almost his responsibility to make a woman of her.  Marriage came with certain obligations, after all.

"So what do I do?" he mumbled, hoping the redhead knew some secret girl bypass for giving Hermione time to think, which couldn't possibly work in his favor.

"Give her time and then apologize."

"Umm…thanks," Draco winced.  "What if that doesn't work?"

"You're screwed," Ginny beamed at him, sashaying her way down the hall.

Draco considered her suggestion.  There had to be another way.

***

"Draco!  Did you hear about Professor…" Pansy's voice trailed off in confusion as, apparently, she forgot the professor's name.

Considering every other professor had been around since their first year, Draco gave her the benefit of the doubt and assumed she meant their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"Yeah, I heard.  Would you look at the time?  I have class."

"Dra-co!" Pansy pouted, "Does you getting married really mean we can't even talk anymore?"

Sweet Merlin.  If only!  "I'm not that lucky, Pansy."

Pansy chuckled, "Oh, don't be so mean," she slapped his arm playfully, looking over his shoulder.  "Oh, look, there's your…lovely…wife now.  Who is that with her?"

Draco's head spun, meeting his wife's determined gaze immediately before she looked down.

"Bloody hell!" Pansy hissed next to him, "Isn't that your…"

"Mother, yes," he muttered in annoyance.

"Draco, darling," his mother waved to him, "Just who we were looking for.  Dumbledore's given us permission to go on an outing to Hogsmeade together as a family."

Draco turned terrified eyes to Hermione.  Surely this couldn't really, truly be happening to him.

"Let's go, son, grab your broom," Narcissa pulled a pin from her hair and enlarged it into a broom.

"Mother," he whispered hoarsely, staring at the end of her broom, "What is that?"

She held up her broom and frowned at the banner attached to the back of it, "What is what?  Oh, this!  I'm just so proud of you, darling!"

"Proud parent of a Slytherin Head Boy," Hermione read the banner slowly, her mouth quirking in what had to be her first smile since they were caught in the hallway.

"Mother, you can't take that in public!"

"Why ever not, dear!  They're all the rage, you know!"

It wasn't just the words.  It wasn't merely because the thought of her flying around with a sign like that flying out of her arse could humiliate him to the grave and back.

It was the picture of them, together, surrounded in silver glitter that he had the real problem with.

If nothing else, it was very clear he had to make his marriage work…cause his chances of getting laid just plummeted. 

***

If Hermione was being completely honest with herself, she would admit she felt a bit sorry for Draco.

But even that kind of self-awareness can't overcome the sheer satisfaction of watching his mother browbeat him into coming along with them to the Three Broomsticks.

Every time someone entered the room, he jumped, his eyes flying to the door to see if it was anyone who knew him.

Sometimes she would throw a look behind him, just to see him spin.

Hermione smirked into her butterbeer.

"Say, now, let's do shots!"

Draco met her eyes across the table and slowly, they both turned their eyes to the speaker.

"What?" Narcissa beamed back at them, "It's a time for celebration.  Shots over here!" she shouted to the bartender.

"What are we celebrating?" Hermione asked nervously, the only event coming to her mind the death of Lucius Malfoy, whom she, herself had not been particularly fond of, but the others in the room ought to have been at one time or another.

Narcissa frowned as the bartender set their drinks in front of them.  "Your marriage, for one!"

"Oh!" Hermione blushed and Draco laughed.

He took her hand, lifting it to his lips.  "How could you forget, love?" he winked at her.

She reminded herself she was mad at him and watched as her mother-in-law downed her whiskey.

What the hell?

***

Doing shots with his wife and mother wasn't really ever something Draco'd planned to do on a Friday night.

But he eventually decided the least he could do was drink himself to the point of unawareness.

If he were unconscious, for example, he couldn't see his mother trying to drink Hermione under the table.

"Well, well, well," a voice interrupted his musings.  "If it isn't the Malfoys."

Draco turned to see Rita Skeeter approach their table.  He wasn't sure why she felt the need to bring her twin, just one of her was enough.

"Rita, darling, join us," Narcissa offered merrily.  "Thish is my shon, Draco and his jusht DARLING little mudblood bride, Her-mi-o-ne."

Trying to figure out what was wrong with what his mother just said, Draco frowned and turned to his wife, who was glaring at her mother-in-law.

"No, no, Narshisha, that's why I hated HIM!" she pointed an accusing finger at Draco, "That language is unacshep…shep…" Hermione frowned, "not called for."

"Oh, I'm shorry, Her-mi-o-ne," Narcissa looked crestfallen at the slip of her tongue, "I love you, shweetie."

Hermione waited a moment, considering the matter, but nodded magnanimously, wrapping her arms around her mother-in-law.

"Wait," Rita tried to clarify the situation in front of her, "You, Draco Malfoy, married Hermione Granger.  Why?"

Draco ignored her, staring at Hermione as she swayed a bit in her chair.  He slid around the table, pulling her onto his lap.  She giggled as he played with her hair and whispered unintelligibly into her ear.

"Uhh…never mind," Rita muttered, turning to Narcissa instead.  "Is there any other news you'd like to share with Witches Weekly, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Oh, yes, darling, I've fabulous news!  I'm going to be a Professor at Hogwarts!"

Draco's lips froze in their trail down Hermione's neck.