A/N : Sorry again for the long wait! I've been on vacation in Maryland for a week and haven't been able to update. Thanks for all the lovely reviews! Sorry that I haven't been able to reply to each one individually. Maybe I'll do better this time! Enjoy!
"I suppose you imagined making me wait would ensure you a grand entrance."
Hermione couldn't see where the voice was coming from as she glanced around the large drawing room nervously. The voice was warm, friendly even, but there was no mistaking the venom in the words. Despite her apprehension over meeting Draco's grandmother, she felt color rising in her cheeks, and resisted the urge to give a loud snort. They were not late.
Draco shot her a warning glance, as if he could read her thoughts. Hermione took a deep breath and forced the anger down until it was mere annoyance.
"Ah, but I won't be around forever," the voice sighed, and Hermione finally saw the back of the high-backed chair, tucked away in the corner and facing one of the wide windows. Draco rolled his eyes and began to cross the room, pulling Hermione with him.
"Grandmother," he said finally, rounding the corner of the chair and smiling a charming smile Hermione recognized at once - how many times had she seen him turn that very smile on a teacher when they were still in school?
"Draco," the voice, Grandmother Malfoy, acknowledged. Draco bent to kiss her cheek, and Hermione peered cautiously over the top of the chair.
The first thing that surprised her was the shock of black hair; if there was one thing that she'd been expecting, it was for Draco's grandmother to have the same white-blonde hair as her son and grandson, possibly snowy white with age. But the hair that was piled on top of her head was sleek and dark, coiled elegantly and sinuously in the fashion of an older time and pinned in place with several emerald studded hair combs.
"If your young…friend is quite through ogling me over the back of the chair, you might introduce us, Draco."
Hermione started. Recovering herself, she stepped as gracefully as she could from behind the chair to stand next to Draco, a few inches closer than was strictly necessary. So Grandmother Malfoy wasn't going to use the word fiancé. The battle lines were clearly drawn, and Hermione wasn't going to just lay there and let this woman walk over her like that.
She had a hard time keeping her face smooth and expressionless, though, especially now that she was looking full in the face of the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen.
There was no way this woman was old enough to be Lucius's mother. She looked like she might have been thirty-five, possibly forty. Her skin was smooth and pale; her shocking violet eyes were big and bright. She surveyed Hermione with the air of a queen who was about to sentence someone to be hanged.
Hermione glanced up at Draco, under the pretense of waiting to be introduced, but really shouting a million silent questions at him. Is this some kind of joke? Who is this woman? Draco's expression was completely unreadable, and he seemed to be avoiding her gaze as he cleared his throat.
"Grandmother, this is Hermione Granger," he began, placing a hand on the small of Hermione's back as he spoke. "My fiancé."
All the air seemed to rush back into her lungs on the word. At least Draco was going to stand beside her.
To Hermione's immense pleasure, Grandmother Malfoy didn't seem at all pleased with the way this interview was going. Her nose crinkled as if there were something bad-smelling underneath it. She sighed.
"I thought perhaps there might have been a mistake, or at the very least that this were your idea of a prank, Draco," she began, and Hermione scowled openly now. A prank, was it? Her hand twitched towards the pocket where her wand lay, but she held herself steady, thinking Draco might not like it if she cursed his grandmother into bits right in front of him.
"No mistake, Grandmother; and I think you know me a bit better than to suspect that I would take becoming engaged so lightly," he smirked a bit on the last words, and Hermione knew he was thinking of last year when he had pretended to be engaged to get out of a magically binding contract. If she hadn't been so infuriated, she might have smiled as well.
"There's no talking you out of this, then?"
"Not a chance."
"Well, then, my dear," Grandmother Malfoy continued, addressing Hermione now and stressing the word with extra venom and contempt, "come closer so that I may get a better look at you."
Hermione thought about flatly refusing, about, perhaps, taking her wand from the inside pocket of her robes and showing that woman what she could get a better look at. But she paused when she glanced up at Draco's face again. His eyes were pleading, and she knew he wanted to make a good impression. She wouldn't deny him that.
She took a step closer to the woman in the chair. Grandmother Malfoy sighed and cast a long-suffering glance at her grandson.
"Ah, Draco, when I think of the beauties you could have had!" She turned her attention back to Hermione, who was trying very hard not to scream. "Closer, my dear!" Hermione took another step.
"You parents were Phillip DuMont and Moira Astell, were they not?" At Hermione's tight nod, she continued. "I remember them well; I used to tell Abraxas that it was only a matter of time…"
Hermione wasn't sure what she had been going to add there…only a matter of time until what, exactly? She didn't dare ask for fear that she might say something she would regret later. Or that Draco would regret later.
"But the past is the past," Grandmother Malfoy added brusquely. "What matters now is the future. You wish to marry my grandson?"
Hermione cleared her throat.
"Yes, I do," she said defiantly, tilting her chin up slightly.
"So proud. May I ask why you wish to tether yourself to young Draco?"
Hermione paused, slightly taken aback.
"Well, I love him," she stammered, confused. Grandmother Malfoy's mouth drew into a thin line.
"Do you, now? Well, I'm sure you do, my dear, and the fact that he's incredibly wealthy has nothing to do with it," she said, sounding anything but sure. "You attended Hogwarts, is that correct?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued, "What was your class rank, then? You did graduate?"
"Yes, of course I did," Hermione snapped. Seeing Draco's face, however, she modified her answer. "I went back after the war ended to finish my seventh year, just as Draco did. I was Head Girl." She blushed slightly; even though she wanted Draco's grandmother to know this fact, she was always a bit uncomfortable being the one to speak of her accomplishments. She didn't like to boast.
Grandmother Malfoy eyed her suspiciously. After a few moments, she seemed to decide something.
"Yes, I thought as much. Gryffindor through and through, aren't you?" Seeing Hermione's slightly shocked expression, she added, "How could you be anything but, with that prideful, arrogant attitude you carry with you? Hmph," she said as an aside to Draco, "didn't your father ever teach you about mixing about with those from other houses? Why do you think they sort you in the first place?"
"I think, Grandmother, that you might be careful how you talk about my future wife," Draco said darkly. Grandmother Malfoy shut her mouth and stared at him as if she'd never seen him before. Her strange eyes glittered ferociously at him.
"I'm sure, Draco, that you don't mean to disrespect me when you say that," she said a moment later.
"No disrespect was meant, just a warning before you overstep your bounds." His eyes were flashing, too, his hands clenched into fists; and yet his tone betrayed no disrespect whatsoever.
Hermione's eyes slid back and forth between the two of them as they spoke. Her brain was no longer functioning at this point. Anger and disbelief, shock and awe were all trying to push themselves to the forefront.
It was one thing that Draco's grandmother hated her; she'd expected that. But what really made her jaw drop was the way Draco defended her, so readily, so forcefully, not caring that this was the matriarch of his family he was speaking to, that he could be disowned in a heartbeat.
"I think, perhaps, that we had better call an end to this little interview," Grandmother Malfoy was saying imperiously.
"Yes, I think we had better take our leave, Hermione," Draco replied, never taking his eyes off the lady in the chair as he took Hermione by her elbow and began to lead her from the room. "Goodbye, Grandmother."
"Draco," she called as they reached the door. Draco froze, then turned slowly to face her once more. He raised his eyebrows. "Do come visit me again soon, dear. I so enjoy these little visits."
And then they were gone.
Hermione couldn't remember leaving the Manor; she didn't even register as Narcissa helped her into her cloak and asked her question after question about what had transpired in the drawing room. She couldn't answer any of them; she merely shook her head. Draco wasn't any better - he refused to speak again until they had exited the Manor and Apparated - separately this time - back to his apartment.
He was fuming as he threw his cloak on the sofa.
"That…woman! Didn't your father teach you about mixing houses…ugh!" He kicked the coffee table; the leg broke. Hermione wordlessly mended it again before Draco could react. She was beginning to regain a bit of her bearings.
"That went well," she said flatly, straightening the books that had been upset when the table broke. She stacked them neatly and collapsed onto the sofa behind her. Draco growled.
"Aren't you furious?" he asked her through gritted teeth.
"Actually, yes. Why didn't you tell me your grandmother was an Metamorphmagus?" she asked matter-of-factly.
Draco's face turned from livid to sheepish in two seconds flat.
"Well, I just sort of wanted to see your face," he mumbled quickly. Hermione fought the urge to laugh.
"Does she always look like that?"
"Most of the time. I think she may have put on a bit more today, though, because she knew she was going to meet you."
"She wanted to impress me?"
"Intimidate you," Draco corrected. "Did it work?"
"Not really. She more or less just made me angrier than I've ever been at anyone, including you," Hermione replied.
Draco chuckled.
"Thanks for standing up for me, though," she added, as Draco dropped onto the couch beside her and threw an arm around her shoulders. She sighed and leaned into him, and he pulled her tighter.
"Thank you, too," he mumbled into her hair. Her head snapped up quickly, confusion evident on her face.
"For what?"
"For going there today in the first place, and for being you," he added with a chuckle. As her puzzled expression deepened, he explained. "I've never seen her so angry, not even at Mother."
"Well, I suppose we're lucky that she didn't disown you, then," Hermione sighed, settling back down into his arms. It was Draco's turn to look confused.
"Well, I'm only after you for your money, after all," she explained, snuggling deeper into his embrace. With her ear against Draco's chest, she could hear the deep rumble as he chuckled and pulled her tighter.
A/N : Well, what did you think of Grandmother Malfoy? I like her already. This was by far my favorite chapter to write so far in this sequel. And don't everybody get all crazy and tell me Hermione didn't defend herself well enough. She was pretty much in shock during the interview, and she was trying to keep herself calm for Draco's sake, remember?
Anyway, this chapter is an excellent example about characters sometimes not doing what you want them to do. Originally, Hermione was supposed to be furious and raving when they got home, and Draco was supposed to be calm and amused. But when his Grandmother started saying all that junk about Hermione and not mixing houses and all that, it just set him off, you know? I couldn't control him. :D
No chapter preview this time...but I am going to start taking suggestions for the title for this story! Go ahead and start submitting! :D