Author's Note: So, if you don't like, or haven't read Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (or watched the film) you may not get this chapter. To make up for it I'm double posting again and you can read chapter 23 as well :)

Chapter 22: Pride

When he woke up, Isabelle was gone, but that was ok. He knew she'd slept, because her breathing had evened out before he had drifted off so he hadn't been abandoned the moment he had fallen asleep. He glanced at the clock and realised it was nearly lunchtime. No wonder she'd gone. He felt better for the sleep though, and once he'd showered and dressed and was heading down to the Great Hall to join his friends he realised that it was frighteningly easy now he was back here to pretend that the two week's at home had never happened.

It was rather a relief too.

Things did indeed go back to normal far more quickly than he would have thought, with one small change. It was one he tried not to think about too much, and one which he tried not to make too obvious, but it was there all the same. He was being openly affectionate towards Isabelle now outside of anything to do with sex.

They still bickered incessantly about everything from his clothes being on the floor to who was right about the answer to their Ancient Runes homework, but more than once Draco found himself tucking her hair behind her ear, or sitting far too close to her on the couch, or even wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and pressing a kiss on the back of her neck. He didn't know what was compelling him to do it but something deep inside him cried out for the contact and he didn't have the will power to deny it.

He never kissed her on the lips though; he felt that was a boundary he should not cross.

"Is this true?"

Draco stopped in his tracks on the way to the kitchen after dinner on the Friday. Along with everything else he'd started drinking Isabelle's peppermint tea, which he'd decided was actually quite pleasant, and sometimes, like now, they had started making each other cups.

"Is what true?" he asked, resuming his journey and leaving the door of the kitchen open so Isabelle could call out to him from the living area.

"What it says in this book."

Stupid question. How was Draco supposed to know what it said in her book?

He grinned to himself and shook his head, boiling the kettle using magic because he might be drinking the stuff, but he didn't have Isabelle's patience to do it the muggle way. He pulled out the cups and teabags, working quickly and pouring the hot water over them straight away.

"What does it say in your book?" he asked, scooping out the teabags before carrying the cups back through to where Isabelle was sitting on one of the sofas. He'd left the teabags on the sink draining board, which he knew annoyed Isabelle, but the house-elves would clear them up later.

"What is that book anyway?" he continued, when Isabelle didn't reply, putting the cups down on the coffee table and sitting next to her. She turned around, arranging herself so she was sitting cross-legged facing him and showed him the cover.

"Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austin," he read, "Is this more of your muggle rubbish?"

"It isn't rubbish," Isabelle grumbled, pulling the book away from him and opening it up again. "Anyway I want to know if what it says here is true." She paused and looked at him, he gestured for her to continue and she read, "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a large fortune, must be in want of a wife."

Draco frowned at her. "How should I know?" he asked.

"Well," she said, rolling her eyes at him as if this was obvious. "You're a single man and you're in possession of a large fortune, or at least you will be one day. You're exactly the sort of man this book is talking about. Are you in want of a wife?"

"What?" Draco blinked at her, because what the hell sort of question was that? "Are you serious?"

Apparently she was, because she just stared back at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"Why the hell are you asking me that?" He was starting to panic a little bit now, although all it did was earn him a roll of the eyes from Isabelle.

"For goodness sake Draco, I'm not proposing to you. I'm just asking a general question," she said, "It's a muggle book, but it was written about two hundred years ago and they all acted a bit like rich pure bloods back then anyway so I was wondering if it's true. I think it is."

Draco looked at her incredulously.

"Not right now, I mean," she said hastily, "I'm not saying you want a wife right now, but in the future you will, won't you? That's what you're supposed to do as a good little Malfoy heir right? Get married to someone suitable and make another little heir? Therefore you are a single man in possession of a large fortune and you are in want of a wife. Or you will be. The muggles are right."

She looked triumphant as she said this and Draco made a grab for the book.

"Let me see that," he snapped, flicking open the first page and reading the first sentence.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.

"This says good fortune, not large fortune," he said accusingly.

"Same thing," said Isabelle lightly, shrugging.

He rolled his eyes and read the next sentence.

However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.

Draco laughed at that, because bloody hell wasn't that just the truth? Every pure-blood family of standing was desperate to get their daughters married off to eligible heirs to other pure-blood fortunes. It was how they kept the bloodlines pure. Even Isabelle's father wanted her to marry a pure-blood for Merlin's sake. It was his mother's life goal to get him married to someone suitable… or at least it had been.

He pursued the next few lines partly to cut off that train of thought and partly out of curiosity.

"My dear Mr Bennet,"' said his lady to him one day, "have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?''

Mr Bennet replied that he had not.

"But it is,'' returned she; "for Mrs Long has just been here, and she told me all about it.''

Mr Bennet made no answer.

"Do not you want to know who has taken it?'' cried his wife impatiently.

"You wish to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it."

This was invitation enough.

Draco looked up and blinked, because apart from the strange, old-fashioned language this Mrs Bennet sounded just like his mother. Or at least, just like his mother had sounded before everything had gone to shit. Vapid and gossipy and interested only in who was who in high society.

Mr Bennet on the other hand, didn't seem to be a single bit like his father, which Draco considered to be to Mr Bennet's advantage.

He furrowed his brow and read on. When he reached,

"You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these twenty years at least,''

he laughed out loud and decided that he rather liked this Mr Bennet character.

He was about to read on when Isabelle hit him on the arm. "Can I have my book back now?"

"No," he said, shifting around so he could lean against the cushions on the arm of the couch. Isabelle huffed and picked up another book from the coffee table. Draco gave her a brief glance and then returned to the book in his hand.

By the time he'd finished the second chapter, which had once again made him snigger to himself, he had forgotten that this was supposed to be muggle crap and had settled himself down to read it seriously, picking up his cup of tea with one hand and raising his knees so he could balance the book there, pushing his bare toes under Isabelle's legs for warmth.

He read and read because the society it described was so strangely like the one he'd grown up in, though as a male he had paid less attention to it than perhaps a girl would have done. He saw people he knew reflected in the characters as well, mostly his mother's friends in the ladies, their daughter's in Lizzie's vapid sisters, and his father's beliefs in the haughty Mr Darcy and his stuck up aunt.

It was not at all the sort of book he would usually have read, because it was clearly going to turn into some sort of sappy romance, and Draco certainly wasn't into sappy romances. On the other hand it was quite amusing and he found himself sucked into the storyline before he had even stopped to think about it.

He didn't know how long he'd sat there reading, but at some point Isabelle got up and then a few minutes later his empty cup was removed from his hand and replaced with an apple. He bit into it almost unthinkingly and turned the page.

He was more than halfway through the book when an arm slipped around his shoulders from behind and dark hair tumbled around his face.

"Don't stay up all night reading," Isabelle murmured into his ear, "Go to bed."

There was a kiss on his cheek and then she was gone, disappearing through her own bedroom door as Draco turned back to the book.

Only when he'd finished it did he finally move, blinking dazedly in the dim light as he lifted his eyes from the text for the first time in what was a good few hours. He dumped the book on the coffee table and stretched, wondering what time it was. He felt tired. Tired and confused.

Mr Darcy had turned out not to be like his father at all. In fact Mr Darcy was rather like…

Who?

He rubbed his eyes and went to brush his teeth, leaving his clothes in a messy pile on the bathroom floor and heading back to his room. He stopped on the way and frowned thoughtfully at the book on the table, giving it an almost accusing glare.

Stupid bloody pride. Stupid fucked up life.

He changed direction and went to Isabelle's room, crawling into her bed and wrapping his arms around her whilst she slept. She murmured sleepily and cuddled into his shoulder, letting him nuzzle into her hair. She was warm and soft and everything she should have been Draco realised.

It didn't take him long to fall asleep and in the morning he was still there.

It was only when he woke up, blinking in the soft morning light coming through the window that he registered what he'd done. He'd spent the night in Isabelle's bed and they hadn't even had sex.

It was too late to pretend he hadn't either because Isabelle was already stirring and she was still curled up against him with his arm around her shoulders and any movement on his part was definitely going to wake her fully. With this in mind he left his arm in place, rolling onto his back and starring upwards. Maybe he could just pretend he wasn't here.

Isabelle, however, didn't seem to be at all bothered. After a few seconds of squirming and wriggling it was obvious that she was completely awake and she propped herself on her elbow, so she could look down into Draco's face. He studiously avoided her rather amused eyes and playful smirk in favour of the obviously fascinating canopy of the bed.

"So did you enjoy the book then?" she asked after a few moments of rather annoying smirking.

"It was ok," he replied, keeping his voice flat.

"Just ok?" she teased, "Is that why you spent half the night reading it?"

Draco frowned. "I just wanted to see what happened at the end," he informed her coldly.

"And what did you think of the end?"

"Ridiculously sappy," he snapped, feeling even more annoyed when Isabelle started to giggle.

"It is supposed to be a romance you know," she told him, dropping back onto the pillows and rolling onto her back, "I think Lizzie is my favourite ever character."

Draco snorted. "I preferred Mr Bennet."

"Of course you did," Isabelle giggled, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. Draco raised a disbelieving eyebrow as her face came back into view. "He's intelligent and full of sarcastic wit," she continued, in answer to his unspoken question, "And he can be quite cutting towards people who are less than sensible. Of course you liked him."

Draco let out a humourless laugh and tried to pretend he wasn't at all interested in this conversation.

"What did you think of Mr Darcy?" Isabelle persisted.

"He's an idiot," Draco snapped, wondering why she was so determined to carry on this conversation. Merlin, he wished he'd never read the damn book in the first place. He vaguely registered Isabelle's look of surprise at his outburst and felt compelled to add. "You don't get a girl to sleep with you by insulting her family, therefore he's an idiot. He could have had Lizzie a whole lot sooner if he'd had any brains."

"I don't think he was trying to get Lizzie to sleep with him. That was hardly the point!" Isabelle sounded rather scandalised and her words were accompanied by a poke to his stomach.

"Fine," he said, wincing at what had been quite a hard jab with her finger, "I expect it's hardly the ideal way to get a woman to marry you either."

"Hmm." Isabelle sounded like there was something on her mind, and for the first time Draco looked at her properly. Her expression was unreadable, but she was regarding him through narrowed eyes as if waiting to see his reaction.

"What about his mad aunt?" she asked eventually.

Draco couldn't help the snort of derisive laughter that came out. "Oh I sympathise with him there. I've got one of those too. Good job she couldn't do magic, otherwise Lizzie would probably have found herself on the receiving end of the cruciatus curse."

He regretted the words the moment they'd left his mouth and he shuddered involuntarily, biting his lower lip and fixing his eyes back on the canopy above. He really didn't want to think about that curse now, or about his aunt, and definitely not about the two of them together. Granger's screams…

Another shudder. Isabelle could obviously sense his mood because he became aware that her hand was on his chest, gliding across his skin in a soothing motion. He tried to pull himself together. Merlin, it was bad enough that he'd woken up in her bed, now was definitely not the time to start falling apart.

"Didn't you think the ending was nice though?" Isabelle had obviously decided to go for a different line of questioning, "They all got to live happily ever after."

"That doesn't happen in real life," Draco pointed out bitterly, "And I'd hardly say her little sister got a happily ever after. She was forced to marry someone who didn't actually love her."

"Yes, but she was a slut," Isabelle announced, causing Draco to let out a sudden, genuine laugh. The way she'd said it, so firmly and so definitely, as if there could be no room for argument, just sounded so ridiculous that he couldn't help it. To his surprise Isabelle grinned too.

"I realise that's ironic," she sighed, still grinning, "When I'm lying in bed with a man who isn't even my boyfriend, let alone my husband, but the point still stands." Draco tried to pull himself together as Isabelle decided to crawl over him and straddle his hips, her grin now changing to a mischievous smirk, "Since we're both here though, Draco, don't you think it's about time you fucked me?"

Draco choked on his own laughter. They might have been doing this for a while now, but it still threw him every time Isabelle was so blatantly obvious about what was going on. Somehow, it didn't seem right coming from her, though he had to admit it turned him on more than it should. He tried to ignore the way his cock was twitching in interest and kept his gaze firmly on the canopy.

"What do you think this is sweetheart? Sex on demand?"

Isabelle dropped to her elbows so that her lips were very near his. "Yes actually, I do," she told him, quirking one eyebrow, "And I'm demanding it right now."

"Oh well, in that case," he hooked his arms and legs around her, rolling her over onto her back in one smooth motion, "I wouldn't want to disappoint."

She let out one of those delightful little whimpers as his lips met hers and he lost himself in the moment. A moment where it didn't matter that he'd woken up in someone else's bed, properly and undeniably, for the first time in his life. All that mattered right now was Isabelle's lips, and her skin, and her scent and the way she made him feel like his whole body was on fire.

This was all he wanted until the end of the year.

Maybe even beyond.