CHAPTER TWELVE: Look Who's Coming to Dinner

-----

Ok, so the big debate is apparently about when Draco and Hermione are going to stop being total hypocrites and actually sit down and talk about all the stuff that's bothering them. I've had some really nice debates with my friends and readers over this. The point of this story was that all these lies are what's really tearing them apart – not the trial or Blaise or Voldemort – even though they think they're doing it for what's best for the other. (Hence the name Lies, Loyalty, & Hermione Granger.)

Hermione becomes very hypocritical here. I mean, she spends so much time convincing herself she's turning Draco into a better man when just look at all she's hidden from him. His father, the sleeping potion, the effects of their "bond," Snape's involvement in everything, the fact that she's lying to Dumbledore about Seneca… It's going to get to a point where things kind of blow up in her face and she's going to have to win Draco's trust back. Hope that clears it up a bit and I LOVE that you're looking into more than just plot.

-----

"Mother!" called Draco as they walked into Grimmauld Place. The invisibility faded quickly after they entered, probably due to the myriad wards. "Mother, I have to talk to you!"

Narcissa squealed joyously in the distance and came running to meet them in the entryway wearing a green and white apron covered in flour. Draco put his arms out in front of him, telling her to keep her distance. "I'm so glad you're home!" she said, her hands over her heart. "I'm making dinner."

Draco and Hermione looked at each other as though sharing a silent warning. "You, Mum? Dinner? Are you serious?"

A slightly aggravated Mrs. Weasley came up behind her and, with a weary smile, corrected, "She's 'helping' me."

Everyone tried to hold back the snickers. Somehow, though Narcissa was only helping, she had managed to filthy herself up sevenfold. Hermione pulled off her scarf and offered to Narcissa, "I'd love to help, if you'd like, while you and Draco talk."

Both women shook their heads. "You two go get cleaned up first. You smell like bedpans. Go on," said Mrs. Weasley, shooing them up the stairs. She turned her attention back to the half-dozen Aurors coming up behind Draco and started asking if they had any food allergies.

They got halfway up the stairs when Hermione suddenly stopped and called down to Mrs. Weasley, "Excuse me? Which one's my room?"

"Don't be silly," said Draco suddenly, having figured this out as soon as he was told he'd be on house arrest. "You're staying with me."

"But—" she began, looking down at a very sour-faced Molly Weasley for collaboration.

He put up a hand to stop her. "You're my alibi if anything happens. The whole 'I was alone in my room' thing is not going to fly at trial."

"Excuses, excuses," growled Narcissa, waving them off dismissively. "And get out of that horrid shirt!"

They took it as a go-ahead and skidded up the stairs. Before they went up to his room, they passed a large bedroom with two beds on opposite sides. Ron's Cannon posters were tacked up and there were boxes near the door with a few of his other things. Harry's were considerably less since they couldn't go back to Privet Drive. It seemed they were still relocating from the Burrow and it made Hermione feel horribly guilty over that unauthorized floo. She made a note to apologize to Mr. Weasley later.

Draco pushed in the doors to his room and bowed, gesturing with a sweeping arm for her to come in. She laughed softly and entered, dropping her scarf on the first chair she saw. The room was twice the size of theirs back at Hogwarts and much drearier. It smelled of Draco though, before the hospital, so it made her smile as she walked about. The bathroom was nearest to the entrance and two windows, both covered, were behind the large queen bed in the middle. The walls had striped black and gray wallpaper, obviously very old, and chessboard-tile floors. The bedspread, a deep red with white canopy, stood out amidst the dreariness. Narcissa was an eclectic decorator, to put it mildly.

"I don't want us getting in trouble," she said, sitting on the bed to take off her shoes. "I can easily sleep in the next room. I could hear you if anything happened."

He ignored her completely, his mind scheming elsewhere. "I don't like this. Something's going on. My mother never cooks. Never. The little witch is probably planning how she's going to decorate my space at the family mausoleum already."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Are you serious? Maybe she's just happy to have you home and this is her way of showing it. Doesn't always have to be a life-or-death scenario, love. Besides, we have a few days to ourselves. Shouldn't we be enjoying it?"

He ignored her again and went to turn on the shower, stripping off his plaid shirt on the way. She watched the way he limped about and wondered if there was something she could do for the pain. At least, she hoped it was just pain. She could never be sure if her healing charms and spells were working perfectly. He never complained.

She watched him struggle taking off the sleeves completely so she told him to wait and went to help him finish taking off his shirt. He went to undo his pants when they both realized she was staring.

"What is it? It's not like you haven't seen this before," he joked, kicking his pants into the corner of the large bathroom. He knew he couldn't bend down to get it just yet. The bandages around his torso didn't allow for much movement.

"Nothing," she replied, her voice so small it was barely audible to anyone else. "I guess it hasn't really hit how hurt you were until now, away from that awful hospital."

He still ignored her worries, because they knew it was utterly pointless to dwell on this with all that was going on, and started undoing her blouse. She slapped his hands away. "Hey hey hey! You're my fiancée, remember? I have equal right to those," he complained, pointing at her breasts.

She rolled her eyes, looking furious. "I don't come with dowry and I'm not your sex slave, Draco Malfoy! Why do I feel like I have to keep repeating myself? Stop calling me your fiancée! It's cruel!"

Cruel, cruel, cruel. He didn't get it. "What's so bloody cruel? It's a nice thought. A very nice, distant thought."

She bought his smirk and settled for swatting him on the hands again as he tried to undress her. "Yes," she admitted. "I suppose. It's just cruel to think of something that might never be, now isn't it?"

He shook his head and smiled brightly, erasing all of her thoughts instantly. He didn't want her dwelling on the amount of reporters waiting for them outside that hospital. Not even Harry got this sort of attention.

"Don't want to get your hopes up, Mrs. Malfoy?" he said smoothly, bringing her to him by the waist.

Cocky bastard, she thought. Cocky, maniacal bastard.

"Don't call me that!" she spat. "I am not your mother."

He grimaced and she knew she'd succeeded in killing the mood. Never compare yourself to your boyfriend's mother. It's eerie how usually the two resemble each other. Lily and Ginny, for example, could be twins. And, it was enough to bring down any sort of excitement in Draco's boxers which he still hadn't taken off. Hermione realized he probably couldn't. Pants were heavy and fell down by themselves once unbuttoned and unzipped. Boxers clung.

She sighed and giving him a look saying, "This isn't a sexual thing," she pulled his boxers down and started undressing his bandage as he watched her with ever more lustful eyes.

"You're healed up fine, Draco," she said, running her gentle fingers over the scars. She threw the bandages into the sink and started undressing herself.

"Joining me after all, aye?"

She smirked and stepped into the shower, shutting the door behind them. She helped lather him up, head to toe, and he watched as she washed herself. He scooted out from under the stream and watched her still with that look he got when he watched her sleep. It was a sort of desperate desire mixed with admiration.

"I love you," he said randomly, causing her to turn around and stop washing the shampoo out of her hair.

"Where'd that come from?"

With the saddest eyes she'd seen from him in a while, he crossed the little shower and wrapped his good arm around her waist, pressing her against him. She squealed at his force but couldn't tear her eyes away from him. "I love you," he said again, more forcibly. "Marry me."

At that, she started laughing hysterically into his chest. He realized what he'd just said and burst out laughing too. "What the fuck was that?" she asked, holding onto her ribs to stop the pain of laughter.

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean that. I think those damn nurses spiked my potions."

It just made Hermione laugh even harder. She reached for him, hugged his bare body for balance, and – lifting herself up onto the tips of her toes – rested her chin on his shoulder. "We've known each other six years, Draco. I know it feels like a lifetime but we're still in school. Look at everything around us."

"If you said you were my fiancée, they'd stop coming between us. You'd even get to visit me in prison."

Why oh why did he have to bring up prison? It only trailed behind it a series of worries and dangerous question. "So it's all a convenience thing? Is that it?" she spat, pushing him away.

He rolled his eyes and took a step closer so her back was to the wall. "You know what I mean. Stop making a fuss. I love you. I want to marry you someday, many years from now, but if we don't get a chance, I guess I just want you there with me while I still have you."

It took her a second to get what he meant. How could she be in prison with him? And then, it hit her. "You mean you don't want me going off to find someone else while you're in prison, yes?"

He went to object but realized that had been exactly what he meant and closed his mouth again. He looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"No, no. Thank you for telling me. I wouldn't though, you know. Werewolves kind of mate for life so even if you're a total disgrace and end up at Azkaban, I'd still bloody love you, you idiot!" she scolded, her tone increasingly sarcastic until she smacked him in the back of the head.

"Stop hitting me! I'm wounded, woman!"

"Stop being an idiot and deserving it!" she shouted back, returning to the state of her hair so she wouldn't have to face him anymore. "Yes, Draco, it'd be much easier to pretend we were engaged but it wouldn't be fair. I want to marry you for real one day, not for pretend and not because a valley-full of reporters coerced us into it. I don't ever want to find anyone else so I'd really like it if my first marriage wasn't a sham."

"It wouldn't a sham! You love me! You admit you want to marry me!"

She spun back around, whipping him in the face with her hair and covering him with shampoo bubbles. She laughed and scooped it away so it wouldn't get in his eyes. He looked like a little kid in his bathtub with a little rubber ducky. He always made her feel so horribly grown-up in comparison. "I do want to," she admitted, her voice considerably softer. "How about this… I have a proposal for you."

"For me?" he asked coyly, pushing her back against the wall.

She hissed at the cold tile against her back but continued nonetheless. "Yes. If we win your case and you don't get sent to jail, I'll marry you."

"Is this some incentive to—"

"Yes," she interrupted shamelessly. Her expression told him she was deadly serious.

He raised an eyebrow, his business eyebrow. "You'd be my fiancée for real? Even wear the real Malfoy ring and put out a bulletin in the papers and go ballroom shopping with Mother?"

She laughed despite herself and nodded. "If you live, you know. I'm not marrying your ghost either."

He smiled and bent to kiss her neck the way she liked, biting just below her ear. "It's a deal," he mumbled into her skin and let her finished getting showered.

They dressed and headed down to dinner some time later. The dining room had been expanded to fit the Aurors and Weasleys as well. Tonks, Lupin, and Hermione's parents weren't set to arrive until Christmas Eve. She managed to get her apology in before everyone sat down and Mr. Weasley basically waved her off because he hadn't believed her about the mate thing. No one had really understood how serious it was until now. It was obvious by the way they stared at them before dinner when they could pretend to be distracted by their food. All they could do then was stare like the two were some crazy enigma all of a sudden. Draco rolled his eyes and ignored him, conversing quietly with Kingsley.

Hermione's mind was a little too preoccupied staring at Ron, Harry, and Ginny's empty seats. She'd asked and was told they were still at the hospital but it was getting ridiculous. They'd been waiting an hour for them, just staring at empty plates like morons. Mrs. Weasley especially seemed to be shooting daggers at Draco for betraying her separate-room policy. She was simply too polite to say anything since Narcissa had given the go-ahead.

An hour and fifteen minutes after Draco and Hermione had sat down, they heard the sounds of pitter-patter on the roof and Ginny and Harry's argument coming down the stairs from the attic. The others didn't hear them till they were coming down the stairs, their fury matching their hunger. The cause of their argument seemed to have been lost a while ago because now they were fighting over Harry's inability to commit or some such nonsense.

"Whoa!" shouted Mr. Weasley over them, standing up. "You two! Be silent or tell me where Ron is."

"He'll be down in a few minutes," sneered Ginny. "With his guest."

"Guest?" echoed Narcissa, her eyes lighting up. "Is he bringing a date? Oh my, I'll have to set another place."

She pulled out her wand and with a quick flick, the place was set. Hermione rolled her eyes. How terribly difficult witch life was. "What guest?" she asked. "Not—"

"Oh yea," answered Harry, a smug look on his face that Hermione couldn't quite place the source of.

Then, she heard the pitter-patter again, this time of heels followed by the unearthly scent of St. Mungo's hospital and Pansy Parkinson. Hermione and Draco tried not to gag on it. No one should wear that much perfume, much less another werewolf unless her nose was broken. Draco tried to think back on it but he didn't remember breaking it though he did hit her head pretty hard. Nope, she was just insane.

Hermione and Draco shared weary looks before the new couple came down the stairs silently. They didn't seem to be touching much either. They stood a good arm's length apart with hands folded behind their backs. Pansy's hair was brushed and her eyes weren't puffy like Hermione had seen that morning. And to top it all off, she was wearing one of Ron's shirts as a dress.

Oh fuck, thought Draco, and probably a whole lot of people in that room.

"Uh, Mum, Dad, Ministry people…" introduced Ron. "This is my friend Pansy. Her parents are still in South America or something somewhere so I invited her to dinner."

Everyone sort of scanned around for the proper way to look or respond but everyone's faces were stuck in shock mode. Wasn't this the girl that had tried to attack the Weasleys? Wasn't she a Slytherin and former fuck buddy of Voldemort's new errand boy? Hadn't she brought the Ministry on Draco's head and gotten him on trial for murder? Wasn't she his ex as well and thus an instant enemy in Hermione's book?

"Of course," said Mrs. Weasley slowly, standing beside her husband. "Why don't you take a seat, dear? We set one out of you."

"Thank you," she said in a tiny voice, looking at her feet. "We're all starving."

Harry and Ginny had already sat down across from Draco and Hermione and gestured for them to sit too. Narcissa announced for them to dig in and the uncomfortable silence began. The house echoed their gulps and plate-scraping and knife-clinking and general awkward shuffles in seats. The Aurors who only had a broad idea of what going on seemed to still look around for an explanation. It was such a contrast from the lively, vibrant house Draco had walked into this afternoon.

There she goes again, sucking the life out of the room, thought Draco. I swear that girl only knows how to suck and swallow.

Hermione giggled beside him though they didn't know why. She just felt she must. The silence continued until dessert when Moody stood up and cleared his throat unnecessarily. Everyone dropped their forks, their eyes begging a distraction from their plates. "I have an announcement to make," he boomed.

Narcissa's eyes opened unusually wide and she replied, "Alastor, don't you think maybe we should wait for another time to—"

"Narcissa and I are engaged," he said over her voice. "Just thought you should know." The silence swept away again, nearly knocking Draco off his seat. Harry dropped his water glass but nobody noticed because they were all staring at Draco, waiting for his reply.

When five minutes passed and nobody talked or moved, Mr. Weasley decided he should take the lead and stood. "I'd like to be the first to offer my congratulations," he said honestly.

"Hear hear," said his wife. The Aurors and Ginny and the others mumbled it into their glasses but Draco just stared open mouthed at Moody. Hermione reached for his hand under the table, gripping it tightly and pulling on his arm for him to speak.

"Are you bloody kidding me?" he screeched. "That was the most horrible wedding announcement ever! You have no flair, no panache! Honestly, man, I shouldn't give you my blessing on that alone."

Hermione and Narcissa knew that he couldn't be too angry if he was cracking jokes and relaxed a little. The Aurors had drawn their wands under the table, anticipating a fight. They'd all known Moody for years and by reputation and they weren't blind. Moody didn't reply to Draco, unsure of his feelings on the matter.

Ron couldn't take it anymore and, in a fit of adrenaline, shouted, "Pansy and I have been secretly dating for about two months. I'm in love with her and I don't care what she is!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Not you too," he groaned at the manner Ron had shouted instead of the news itself. It was all old news to him to him anyway.

"I don't remember!" yelled Pansy beside Ron, still staring down at her plate. Hermione had gone from the guillotine to a gauntlet in a single day. "I don't remember being a werewolf or attacking the house or Draco and I apologize!"

Harry cleared his throat and stood as well. "I don't care about any of these dramas. As long as Voldemort is tearing up at Draco's traitorous ass, I can sleep well at night for the first time in years!"

"I hate that you're sleeping in the same room!" said Mrs. Weasley a bit more sheepishly. "All of you! It's just not proper, less you're married."

"I hate peas!" confessed Ginny, shooting an apologetic look at her mother. "And, I've been teaching myself how to play Quidditch for years by stealing my brothers' brooms from the tool shed.

"I hate peas too!" added Mr. Weasley in a much lower voice. "You really don't have to put them on everything, dear."

Everyone started to chuckle. It was getting ridiculous. Hermione didn't smile though because her heart was riddled with horrors and fear she desperately wished to confess. She abandoned Draco's hand under the table, took her napkin off her lap, and stood too. Everyone stopped laughing because they could tell her problems were serious, her confession absolute.

"I want to confess too," she said in a normal tone of voice. Everyone had silent again. She decided to go with the most pertinent offense. "It's my fault the family nearly got attacked."

-----

Reviews make my day.