There was a light rap on the door. It drew her from sleep like a drug. Slowly, she turned in her bed, her eyes drifting open. The light rapping came again. She moaned softly as she disentangled herself from the sheets and stood. Moving to the door, she nearly tripped over the long nightgown she was wearing, and had to stop and groggily pick up the edges to make walking possible.
She reached the door just as the light rapping became more insistent and blearily, she opened the door to admit her tormentor. When she saw who was standing at her door, she immediately became more alert. "Yes?"
"Breakfast is ready. Our Lord shall be dinning with us. Get dressed." Malfoy spoke in clipped tones, as if he was struggling with inner demons.
She nodded. "I'll be ready in a moment. Thank you for waking me." He inclined his head and turned away as she closed the door softly.
It had been two months. Hermione had officially been a Deatheater for two whole months. And it was eating her alive. Every waking moment she could feel the twisted evil of the magic that bound her to the Dark Lord. Every second of every day was utter torture for her. She would wake in the mornings, dine with Draco Malfoy, and follow him through his duties. She watched, and she learned. They had never spoke since her first night. They were barely ever alone together again, and when they were neither dared to speak.
The day after she had been marked, Malfoy had taken her to Malfoy Manor. She had been given her own suite of rooms, in a separate wing of the house than Draco, and a schedule of what she was to do every day. There were dancing lessons, etiquette lessons, dining lessons, and most importantly, the long hours of the day she spent following Malfoy. After the third day of this, Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She had stormed away from Malfoy, screaming about how she had never wanted any of this, and slammed her bedroom door as she entered. That night, however, when she went down for dinner, she was given no food. He never even looked at her. From that moment on, she did everything she was told, and she never once complained.
This morning, Hermione went into her closet and chose a lovely morning dress of light blue encrusted with pale blue crystals. She had been given an entire wardrobe upon her arrival to the Manor, and she was expected to wear only what she was given. After slipping into the dress and pulling on some delicate heels, she pulled her hair up into a loose twist, leaving some faint tendrils to grace her face before putting on her make-up. A few moments later, and she was ready.
Finding her way to the dining room now was like walking the back of her hand. The first week she had taken great care to note where every room of the Manor was located, and the easiest and quickest way to get there. She was quite proud of herself, although she would tell no one.
When she arrived in the dining room, Draco was already seated, but when she entered, he stood, inclining his head to her. She nodded lightly back. She moved to sit across from him, at the opposite end of the table, when the Dark Lord entered the room. He swept in with his robes billowing about him and Hermione was all too suddenly reminded of Professor Snape and her Potions class. She fought to stifle a giggle, and bent low to her Lord before moving to her seat. His voice stopped her.
"Oh, Hermione, my dear, won't you come sit beside me." He took his place at the head of the table, where Draco usually sat, and motioned for her to sit on his right. It was where Draco normally would have been seated on such an occasion, but he waited silently for her to arrive at her seat before pulling out the chair and allowing her to be seated before moving around to the Dark Lord's left. Hermione kept her head down and waited for her food. But then she felt something cold on her hand, and jerked when she saw it was a hand. A hand belonging to the Dark Lord.
"Hermione, darling, how have you been?" His voice dripped with venom. She fought the urge to cringe.
"Everything has been going well, My Lord." She bowed her head to him. "Thank you for inquiring." He scoffed.
"No need to be so formal!" His hand moved to her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you." His voice was so soft and velvety that Hermione was taken completely by surprise. She blinked several times before regaining her speech.
"Of course, My Lord." She met his eyes carefully, trying to keep all her emotions hidden behind her mask of indifference.
"Wonderful." The food arrived then, allowing Hermione to look away and begin to eat. Only moments later did the Dark Lord speak. "Now, I would like to get to the matter of which I am here." Hermione placed her fork and knife neatly over her plate and folded her hands in her lap, awaiting the Dark Lord's instruction. Draco placed his own fork on the table and clasped his hands on his knee.
"What do you wish to discuss, Lord?" He was all honey.
"The matter of Miss Granger. I find that she is in lack of a husband." Hermione almost choked. "I also find, Draco, that you are in lack of a wife." Draco's body went rigid as the Dark Lord continued to speak. "I have decided that the two of you shall wed." Draco began to protest. "This is final, Draco. It is not a negotiable matter." Looking pointedly at Draco, he continued on. "Hermione, dove, what is your opinion of this matter?"
In all his years, Draco Malfoy had never heard the Dark Lord ask for someone's opinion. Of course, he had certain people that he would listen to from time to time, his aunt being one of them, but never in a million years did Draco think that the Dark Lord would ask a muggleborn for their opinion. He watched Hermione carefully, awaiting her answer. She seemed the perfect image of composure, but Draco could see behind her mask. She was just as shocked as he was. But then she cleared her throat lightly and spoke.
"I think My Lord is very wise. I will gladly follow any instruction He lays upon me." Draco couldn't believe what he was seeing…and hearing. "If that wish is for Draco and I to wed, than I shall be more than happy to oblige." Draco watched her intently as she looked upon the Dark Lord. No one every looked at him, really looked, and here she was looking, seeing, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Her calmness irked Draco to no end.
"My Lord, wouldn't someone of higher rank and age be a better match for Miss Granger? I mean, surely—"
"Silence, Draco!" His voice was like ice. The room was deathly quiet. His dark eyes burned. "Hermione is more than willing to accept you as her husband, so what reason could you possibly have to say no?" He turned his dark gaze upon Draco, and the fire was tangible in the thick air. "As I have decreed it, it shall be done. The wedding shall be set for a month from Sunday. Your mother has graciously agreed to see to all the arrangements in the interim. There shall be an engagement ball in a week." Abruptly, the Dark Lord stood, Draco and Hermione following. "I believe I shall leave you to your breakfast. I find I am no longer hungry. Please, enjoy your meal without me. I shall see you in a week." And with that, he was gone. And the room was suddenly colder.
His eyes never left her. She sat again quietly, picking up her fork and continuing to shift her food around on her plate, occasionally bringing it to her lips and taking a bite. And then he couldn't take it any longer.
"I will not marry you!" His voice cut the silence and she froze. She placed her fork down on her plate once more and folded her hands in her lap. Her eyes rose to meet his, they were cold.
"The Dark Lord has decreed it, Draco. We shall be married in a month whether we like it or not." She was like ice, chilling him to the bone.
"I WILL NOT MARRY YOU!" He exploded. He was burning, his skin scalding as he stood silently. His breathing ragged, he found his voice again. "We will not be married in a month, you will move out of his house, and you shall trouble me no more!" His hands had become fists as he spoke, his knuckles turning white with his anger. His body shook with rage. "I will not marry you."
Hermione's calm had cracked. She could feel the walls she had built up slowly breaking as his anger washed over her like waves. He was supposed to be the calm and collected one! He was the one who was supposed to be telling her what to do, not the other way around!
She closed her eyes tightly, inhaling deeply before standing, placing her napkin on the table beside her plate. Locking her eyes with his, Hermione dug deep for her Gryffindor courage, and took the first step. She moved around the table, letting her hand trail lightly over the hard surface as she moved. His eyes never left hers. And when she reached him, she stepped firmly within his bubble and ran her hand over his cheek, her knuckles dragging gently down his jaw, fingers tracing the slight curve of his lower lip. And then, Hermione Granger said the few words that would haunt her for months to come.
"We shall do as our Dark Lord commands us."
It was dark. There was no light by which to see. The curtains blew softly in the breeze, the brush of it caressing her as she stood. The sky was beautiful at night. This much Hermione had come to love about her new home. The stars shown brightly over her, twinkling, sparkling. The moon was dim, and dull, as if concealed by a veil. There were no clouds. A single tear rolled over her cheek. A single finger wiped that tear away. She breathed deep the cool evening air.
The week was almost over. She and Draco had spent little time together. Most of Hermione's days were filled with planning for the engagement ball and dancing lessons. She found herself going through the days in a haze, never really committing to what she was doing. Only at night did she breathe in the cool air her lungs so desperately craved. Only at night did she let the delicate thoughts of Ron and Harry creep into the crevices of her mind and fester until morning. Only at night did she let herself writhe as the anguish grew steadily in her stomach. Only at night did she softly cry.
Breakfast was quiet. There were two days left until the engagement party. Draco Malfoy was thoroughly annoyed with Hermione Granger. She never looked at him. She never touched him. She never did anything she wasn't asked to do. It was driving him mad. Breakfast was too quiet.
"How have you been?" His voice was deep and grave. He could feel the coarse vibration running through his body as he spoke.
She looked up at him. Ah! That was why she was never looking at him. Her eyes were rimmed with red and her cheeks were puffy. She'd been crying. He thought she would never cry. "I've been well. I'm enjoying my dancing lessons. And your mother has been very helpful in planning the engagement ball." Looking back down at her breakfast, she took a bite, eyes never leaving her food.
He'd had enough.
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" His fists banged down on the table, rattling plates and sending glasses crashing to the floor. Hermione dropped her fork, the sound of metal on china echoing through the room as it clattered into her lap. He could barely stand her calm demeanor as she picked up her fork and placed it on her plate. Then her eyes found his.
"I beg your pardon?" She was not the Hermione Granger he remembered from school.
"What the hell is wrong with you? What happened to Hermione Granger? Where did the feisty lioness from Hogwarts go? You're not supposed to be so cool and collected! And you most certainly are not supposed to bow down to the Dark Lord like a dog that's been beat too much! So, I'll say again. What the hell happened to you!" He could feel his fingernails digging into his palms, carving little half-moons of blood as he raged on. He couldn't take another minute of this torture, of this silence and complacency. He was about to rage on at her, but then he saw something change in her eyes. And then he wondered something. He chose his next words carefully. "Why would Hermione Granger, a filthy Mudblood, who supposedly loathes the very ground I walk on, consent to marry me on the demand of a Dark Lord she's sworn to fight against with her dying breath? I wonder what she would have to say about you now?" His voice had grown cold and hard. He hadn't meant for his words to be so cruel, but perhaps that was exactly what she needed. However, nothing could have prepared him for what happened next.
Hermione breathed slowly. Truthfully she didn't know how to answer him. He'd asked her a question to which she had never really given thought. Frankly, she was flabbergasted that he would even bring it up. Be that as it may, she still had no intention of actually giving him the real answer, the answer that she had been wrestling with for the past few months without ever really coming to a definitive conclusion. She breathed in and out, allowing her breath to calm her fraying nerves. When she finally did speak, her voice was much more calmer than she had originally thought it to be.
"I am marrying you because I have learned my place in this world, and I have come to accept it. I suggest you do the same." Turning to leave, a thought struck her as she moved around the table and away from him. I really am becoming a Death Eater. And the thought shook her to her core. She was more shaken now that she had ever been in her entire life. It took all her will to make it past Malfoy's piercing gaze and out the door. Once out into the suffocating halls of Malfoy Manor, it was all she could do to not bolt straight for her room and stay there until the engagement was announced and she could just get the whole thing over. When she finally did reach her room, the door closed firmly behind her, Hermione Granger collapsed to the floor, her head buried in her hands as the tears flowed freely at last.
Standing alone in the dinning room, Draco Malfoy was completely lost for words. It was the 'pop' of a house elf apparating to clear the table tat brought Draco out of his thoughts. He nodded briefly at the little creature before turning on his heal and storming his way through the Manor, hell-bent on getting some answers. And there was only one place he was going to get those.
As he rounded the corner, his eyes fixing on the door before him, he found himself incapable of banging the door open. He found himself hesitating, hovering before the door, hoping that this confrontation might do some good.
At last he found his hand moving, finally his knuckles rapping lightly against the hard wood of the door. He heard a muffled gasp, felt the movement and rustle of clothes as she moved. And then there was a warmth emanating from the wood. It was a warmth that seeped through his palm, pressed against the door, pressing for answers. It was only now that he realized that it was answers he was seeking, and not a desire to drive her over the edge to become something she no longer was. He slowly opened the door.
Stepping inside, he found himself shrouded in darkness. Closing the door softly behind him, he searched the room for her, and when he finally spotted her in the dim light, he wished he hadn't. Although she stood regally, as if commanding an army before her, the withered look on her face made his heart ache. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks splotchy. And even though her eyes met his, her gaze was nervous and unsure. And it was then that he realized. She was afraid. He stepped towards her. "Hermione—"
"Don't." Her voice was like ice. "Don't pretend that you care for one second. Don't you dare." It was barely a whisper, but it was enough to send chills down Draco's spine…chills that were soon engulfed with fury.
"You think that I don't care?" Even he could feel the shock in his voice.
"Of course you don't care. You never have." Her shoulders squared evenly as her body tensed.
"After all we've been through—"
"Yes, after all we've been through!" Her hands balled into fists at her sides, her body swaying dangerously towards him. "Especially after all we've been through!" She moved then, her feet carrying her soundlessly across the floor, growing closer with each passing moment. "After all we've been through I'm sure now more than ever that you would gladly watch me die with a smile on your face. I'm sure that you would gladly enjoy bearing witness to all the pain and suffering I've been through because of his stupid, ridiculous, absurd war! I'm sure that there is not a bone in your body that has ever, ever, cared for someone other than yourself." She was just before him now, the warmth of her body touching him through all the tension and anger. He felt himself give up as she spoke, each word driving it harder and harder home that she was right. There had been a time when he hadn't cared, when he didn't want to care. She was right, and that thought scared him to no end.
"You're right." Her eyes widened. "At least you were once. I'm not that boy anymore, Hermione. I don't think that boy could survive in this world. He wouldn't last one day." His hand brushed her cheek. She flinched away only to be drawn back by the feather-light fingertips against her arm. "I do care, Hermione." She visibly started, eyes glistening at the thought. And then, as she swayed gently forward, hand pressing lightly against his chest, his lips danced over hers. It was a ghost of a kiss, but it was more than enough. Within moments, Draco Malfoy found himself holding her sobbing form against his chest, wishing he could make it all go away, and only finding that the most he could do was hold her. The greatest gift he had to offer her was just this.
He pressed a kiss to her hair, finding his own tears falling down his cheeks, and realized then that this moment, this one solitary moment, was the one that made their past, their history, their tragedy, part of their future.
The morning was cold. It shouldn't have been. The fire in her room was lit, the windows closed. And yet, somehow, cold air was just drafting in from all over the place. It could have been her nerves, or it could have been her cold demeanor that was making everything that morning icy. Even her breakfast was cold. It was one of her favorite dishes too. Eggs Benedict. She loved Eggs Benedict. And this morning she just couldn't bring herself to actually eat it. There she sat, in the grand dinning room of Malfoy Manor, her husband-to-be sitting across from her, his eyes fixed on the Daily Prophet, his plate blissfully devoid of food, and she could not take one, single, solitary bite of food. It was driving her mad. And it was only 10:00 in the morning! Oh for fucks sake! She stood up abruptly, causing her chair to scrape horrendously against the marble floor. "I'm going for a walk." With that, she turned and walked out of the dinning room, through the halls, into the library and out the terrace doors and into the cool, brisk morning air. Hermione was immediately confronted by a horrible wind, catching her dress up and whipping it about her. She relished in the freezing air, allowing it to awaken her senses to what was coming.
The whole staff of the Manor was in high order as they worked for the night's coming festivities. The entirety of the Dark Lord's following would be attending tonight. The highest of the Elite. Minus one, of course. Belllatrix Lestrange had been sent off immediately after Hermione's arrival to the Ministry of Magic for the bargain to be actually effective. She found herself smiling at the thought of Bella imprisoned and tortured by the Aurors. Then she grimaced at the though of Harry actually torturing someone. No, don't think of Harry. Don't think of any of them. They don't exist in my world anymore.
Hermione wrapped her arms around her, pulling her light sweater tighter around her chest as she walked slowly to the edge of the terrace and looked out over the grounds. If she was honest with herself, they really were quite beautiful. Directly before her lay a large field of lush grass where preparations were well underway for the coming evening. Beyond that there was a grand fountain that stretched from one end of the Manor to the other, the main fountain spouts located at the middle of the house with mirroring spouts fanning out all the way to the end. She could see further outward the great guest apartments where all the guests of the evening would be hosted after the party. All around the Manor lay the gardens complete with hedge maze and rose garden. Unconsciously, Hermione found herself wandering towards the hedge maze with no real thought as to her current circumstance. It was only after she'd entered the maze and gotten thoroughly lost in it that she realized where she was. "Oh this just perfect." She sighed before dropping onto the bench situated between two rose pots on the side of the path. Crossing her legs, Hermione propped her chin on her palm, her elbow on her knee and waited. Having left without her wand, she would just have to wait until someone came out and found her. This is going to take forever.
It was just as Hermione had come to this thought that someone rather unexpected appeared in the shadows of the maze.
Draco watched, puzzled, as Hermione left the dinning room. He then listened as she promptly left the house all together. Folding his Prophet and placing it on the table beside his plate he noticed that hers was completely untouched. He frowned. She really should eat something. He stood, straightening his clothes as he did so, and walked out of the dinning room. His mother found him soon after, reading in the library.
"Draco, have you seen Hermione? I need to talk with her about some things for this evening." She walked over to the terrace doors, peering out them over the grounds. She was nowhere to be seen.
"No, last time I saw her was an hour or so ago at breakfast. She didn't eat anything though. Have you checked her room?" Draco also moved to the terrace doors beside his mother, folding his book easily beneath his arm.
"Yes, Draco, I've checked the whole house. I'm actually very worried for her. None of the elves have seen her either." It was at this moment that Draco noticed his mother was unusually worrisome.
"Mother, what's going on?" He turned to face her, forcing Narcissa to look him in the eye. Her eyes were full of concern.
"Blaise is here." The terror behind her wavering voice was more than enough to send quivers through Draco's calm exterior.
"Hermione." His voice was silk. "How wonderful to see you." His hand trailed down her shoulder. "The sun does wonders with your skin." Her hand was suddenly in his. "Won't you walk with me?"
Hermione looked up into the eyes of Blaise Zabini with distaste. If there was anyone she would rather not have to put up with, it was him. Swallowing her disregard, she stood. "It would be my pleasure." He tucked her hand in this crook of his arm, pressing her dangerously close.
"You have no idea how greatly it pains me to see you marrying Draco. He's so undeserving of your…talents shall I say." They'd begun to move…in the direction, Hermione hoped, that would bring them out of the maze and into the sights of the Manor. "Really I feel it only my natural duty to warn you of the factors that shall condition your marriage." This gave Hermione pause.
"What ever might you mean, Blaise?" She hated the way his name rolled off her tongue.
"I mean that your life will be one of complete solitude should you go through with this. I mean to say, that although Draco will promise that always be true to you, and to never waver in his care, and all that, well…Draco, if anything is disloyal." He stopped their movement, his hand firmly gripping hers. "I beg you to reconsider."
"Blaise, regardless of your opinion on the matter, or of the 'factors that will condition' my marriage, it is the Dark Lord's will that Draco and I wed. Far be it from me to go against his power." Her hand was stinging from the pain, her nerves were brittle with tension as she awaited his eventual attack.
"Of course, it is the Dark Lord's will, and as such, one should follow. But I can't help wondering…if he really wanted you to flourish, why would he ask you to marry Draco? Of all the highly qualified people at his disposal, why choose the least qualified of them all?" Now he was facing her, his eyes boring into hers, his fingers digging deep into her flesh. She could feel the bruises begin to form as his nails continued to bite, to tear, to shred. Forcing herself to remain in his grasp, Hermione considered his words.
"Be that as it may, it is still His will. And as such, His will is law. I will follow His will with my dying breath, even if that may be to marry a man such as Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately for you, you're just going to have to deal with that, regardless to how you feel the matter should be sorted." Her hair blew in the wind, his nails bit harder into her skin, and she struggled to keep her tears at bay. He was moving closer to her, invading, his lips forming into words when here was a noise behind her. It was a noise she was most grateful to hear.
"Blaise, you found her! I've been looking for you Hermione." Hermione turned to find Draco emerging with a House Elf from behind a hedge. "Mother needs to speak to you about tonight. Something about your dress." Blaise had released her arm as soon as Draco had come out of the green, stepping away from her and standing neutrally by the opposite hedge. Draco turned to Blaise. "You know you're early for the party tonight. I thought you wouldn't be arriving for at least another hour or so." He smiled at Blaise, welcoming him, but the smile was guarded. He was hiding something.
"Well, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I should probably go and find Narcissa. You know how she can get when it comes to dresses. Blaise, thank you for finding me in this maze, I was completely lost. I found our conversation most stimulating." She nodded her head at Draco before turning to follow the House Elf back into the Manor. When she had finally exited the maze and been delivered into the main parlor, Hermione sunk gratefully into an armchair and finally breathed. It was then that she realized that she'd been holding her breath since the moment she'd woken that morning.
Draco eyed Blaise as they walked the grounds carefully. There was something going on in his friend's head, and he was going to find out just exactly what it was. It was an interesting feeling to have, this burning rage to pummel Blaise. He'd never wanted to do it before, but for some reason, as soon as he'd seen him with Hermione in the maze, he'd felt a kind of predatory haze of violence cloud his mind and overcome his senses. He found that even now he was barely listening to the words coming from Blaise's mouth. It was most puzzling.
"Draco, are you sure you can marry her? I mean, she's a Mudblood for Merlin's sake! I'm astounded the Dark Lord even graced her with the Mark! He's slipping my friend, and he's slipping fast." Blaise's words burned into his skull.
"You should watch who you talk to like that Blaise. Not all of our friends will be as understanding as I am." They'd paused at the edge of the forest that surrounded the grounds. There was a path for them to walk on, but Draco felt it was time for them to start heading back. There was no telling how much his mother wanted to fuss about him in the hours before the party.
"I know, I know. But think about it Draco! She's a fucking Mudblood! He's forcing you to marry the one thing we've all sworn to rid the world of! She should be scrubbing the floors of the Manor, not waltzing about the halls as if she belongs." Draco watched his friend as he ranted. There was something different about the words he was saying. It was as if he was putting them on, as if he was pretending for the sake of keeping face. Still, he felt he should say something in defense of his wife-to-be. He just didn't know what. What he did know was that whenever Blaise had said 'Mudblood' he'd wanted to rip his throat out. That wasn't normal behavior at all.
"Blaise, regardless to what you say about Hermione, I'm going to marry her. The Dark Lord has commanded it, and as such, I must follow. It doesn't matter what I think of her, or what you think of her for that matter. All that does matter is that she is one of us now, and she will be treated with the respect that deserves. He blood is no longer a factor. The Dark Lord has seen to that. By his own hand, he has sanctified her blood, and made her one of us. As far as any of us should be concerned, she's as Pureblooded as you or I. Anyone who dares to say otherwise is betraying our Lord, and should be punished for it! You should watch what you say Blaise. It's a dangerous slope you're slipping on." Draco straightened his shirt before moving to turn back to the house. "Now, I have some matters to attend to for the party tonight, so if you'll excuse me. But please, make yourself comfortable in the interim. I will speak with you again later this evening." With that, he turned on his heel and walked briskly back to the Manor. It was then that he realized that he'd meant every word he'd said to Blaise, and that terrified him.
The Manor was swimming with House Elves and hired squibs and servants preparing for the coming event. Green and silver silk drapes adorned the walls of the ballroom and the dining room. The foyer was swathed with shimmering gauze that glittered in the light. Hermione didn't think she could've seen anything more spectacular. The Manor itself was beautiful on it's own, but these embellishments only gave enhancement to the glory the Manor already possessed. Narcissa really had outdone herself.
"Hermione, dear, would you come upstairs with me? I believe it's time to start getting ready. When it's time to join everyone, Draco will come and get you." Narcissa ushered Hermione briskly through the foyer and up the grand staircase to her bedroom. Her dress was lain out on the bed, her matching shoes placed at the foot of the bed. The dress itself was a deep green satin, beaded with emeralds and diamonds. It had cap sleeves that dropped delicately over her shoulders. It was a silken sheath as she slid into it, the fabric sheathing her in its cool beauty. After she was fully dressed, shoes on her feet, stockings dressing her legs, dress set in perfect order, Narcissa herself set about fussing over her makeup. Hermione stood patiently, for what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes, as Narcissa dabbed and brushed her face into perfection. Her hair was next, something Hermione never thought to be an actual possibility, but Mrs. Malfoy had a trick or two up her sleeve. When Hermione finally opened her eyes, she saw in the mirror before her a vision in emerald. Her hair was tied up in a twist, thin ringlets whisping around her face. The dress shined in the light, the reflections of the jewels dazzling her as they sparkled. Her makeup was subtle, elegant, and it made her feel special.
It was at this moment that Narcissa came up behind her and draped and emerald and diamond teardrop necklace over her collarbone. "This has been in the Malfoy family for seven generations. I wore it at my engagement ball, and Lucius' mother before me. It has seen many powerful women through this family, and I hope it shall see many more." As Narcissa clasped it at the nape of Hermione's neck, she turned, hiding her eyes.
"Narcissa—"
"No, you must wear it. It is tradition." Hermione watched as the woman brought her hand to her lips, no doubt holding back emotions that had never been released.
"What do you mean by 'powerful women'?" Hermione placed a hand on Narcissa's shoulder, urging her to open, to let go. She was silent for many moments before she found her voice.
"For as long as I can remember, and from what I've learned from the portraits of the previous Malfoy women, each one was chosen by the male for their extraordinary gifts. Lady Alyssa Malfoy from 1752 was said to have done great things for the good of the world. She was a fierce woman. This was a time of great sorrow for witches and wizards. There was constant warring between factions and committees. This was just around the time the Ministry of Magic was formed. Lady Malfoy was solely responsible for bringing the factions together to form the Ministry. Her husband saw the greatness in her, and married her for it." Narcissa smiled at the history.
"Why have I not heard of her?"
"The Malfoy's have since fallen from any grace that could have been offered. You see, my darling Hermione, Alyssa was not a Pureblood. She was not even a Halfblood. Alyssa was Muggleborn, and was very proud of it. Since the Malfoy name fell from any true and respectable society, they have buried the parts of their past they believe to be tarnished, and unclean. They even burned her portrait. The last remaining remnant of such a great woman, burned, because they couldn't stand the sight of her!" She inhaled deeply. "I'm sorry, I should not speak this way, but you must know. You must know that we Malfoy's were, at one time, part of the light. Part of what Dumbledore has fought so hard to keep alive…and what our Dark Lord has fought so hard to destroy. We were not always so afraid to believe in good." Her hand touched Hermione's cheek. "Never forget Hermione, that while you are a part of this family, there is still some hope for my son. He has potential to be great, to be a warrior for light…for you." A tear slid down the elder woman's face, adding a sorrow to her words Hermione had not thought possible. She herself felt her shaky intake of breath, felt the tears threatening to fall. Narcissa breathed carefully, wiped away the tear. "Now, I believe it's time for me to go and greet our guests." She squeezed Hermione's shoulder once before moving to the door. Her hand paused over the handle. "You really do look lovely dear." And with a final mournful smile, she was gone, the door closing softly behind her.
Hermione found herself alone, her dress sparkling around her. She sat at her dressing table, staring at her reflection with revulsion. What was this creature of perfection staring back at her? I hate you. "I hate you!" She shoved away from the table, small bench falling to the ground. She moved to the window, threw it open, breathed in the cool evening air. Her heated flesh calmed as the breeze sent shivers down her spine. Closing her eyes she allowed herself one last dream, one last thought of the hope she'd once shared. This was not Malfoy Manor. She was not engaged to Draco Malfoy, and the Dark Lord was not going to be walking her down the isle at her wedding. Instead, she was giggling with Ginny in the Burrow, her dress fine and white, her hair tamed and loose. Ron and Harry waited outside, all the Order were there, their smiles and wishes of happiness echoing through her head. She was getting married now, to Ron, with all her friends there. With all her family. With everyone she loved. She felt herself smile at the thought, at the dream. She could get lost in that dream. Oh Ron. I will always love you. She opened her eyes and stared at the stars. It was now she wished she were one of them. It was now she could be as simple as a stone in a glassy pool in the Forbidden Forest. It was now she finally let the dream fade.
There was knock at the door.
The stairs seemed like a mountain as Draco moved up towards her room. As he reached the landing he realized he didn't want to have to bring her out of the solitude of her bedroom. He knew she felt safer there, in her private place. He knew she would rather stay in there than make rounds about the ballroom on his arm. He breathed deeply.
"Draco, you're just in time." It was his mother. "She's all ready. It should be time soon. Have all the guests gathered in the ballroom?" She was walking hurriedly down the corridor, her steps quick and light.
"Yes, they're all assembled. The Dark Lord has only just arrived. He's being shown into the ballroom as we speak. He'll be very pleased to see you." Draco nodded to his mother as she passed him, his own pace quickening as he thought. It was only minutes later when he reached Hermione's door. He raised his hand, poised to knock, when he heard something. "I hate you!" Then there was a crash; something had fallen to the floor. It took all his power not to burst through and demand to know what was happening. There was nothing. There was not a sound, not a whisper from beyond the door. He waited a minute before finally letting his knuckles rap lightly on the hard wood. It was another minute before the door actually opened. It took Draco a moment to recover from the sight of her beauty. "Are—" He cleared his throat. "Are you ready?" His voice was barely a whisper.
"Yes." Her own voice was a grace across his senses. She opened the door fully. He offered her his hand. She accepted delicately. "Thank you." As she moved out of her room, the door closed soundlessly behind her, and Draco was forced to move away from her. Taking her hand from his, he placed it in the crook of his arm, tucking it there and holding his hand over it for fear she might bolt at any moment. He needed her tonight just as she needed him.
They walked in silence, the heels of her shoes clicking against the marble as they moved. It seemed like ages before they finally reached the ballroom doors. Draco ceased their movement. He turned Hermione to face him. "Are you sure you're ready? Are you sure you want to face this?" He could see the tears behind her eyes. She nodded numbly.
"I have no choice. Whether I'm ready for it or not, Draco, I must walk through those doors with you and face whatever is to come." She finally looked him in the eye. "I don't need your pity Draco. I can do this alone. In this place, all I am is alone." She moved to turn from him, but his hands on her shoulders held her in place.
"Hermione." His voice was raw and cracked. "You are never alone." He tried to let that show in his gaze, but knew he failed. He knew there was nothing he could do in that room that would protect her. All he could do was lend her strength where she needed it. Whether she asked for it or not. Her hand touched his cheek softly and he found himself turning into that simple touch, that reverent caress. A pop beside them made both of them start.
"Master Draco! It's time!" The little House Elf was gone before they could blink.
Draco cast one last look at Hermione who had regained her icy composure. She stood beside him now, facing the doors, her hand still tucked in his arm, her strength unwavering. He swore he saw something hidden there, but he let the though drift as the doors slowly swung open. He turned to face whatever was coming, to face the room of Deatheaters and his Dark Lord. They stepped forward into the ballroom, Hermione's hand tightening on his arm, his own hand tightening over hers, as they moved on to face their destiny. Together.
Author's Note:
Finally finished updating this one too...sorry about this! Hope you're all enjoying reading it! :D
-The Crimson Sheath