Chapter 4: The Announcements
...3 months to D-Day...
Hermione felt certain the person who once said that time healed all wounds had never been forced to consider the prospect of marriage with someone he or she hated in order to avoid losing a job, enduring a prison sentence or suffering death.
Frankly, no amount of time was going to heal that particular wound.
This was one that was going to fester for a long time, destroying her life and everything she had built up. It was for this reason that Hermione, although highly conscious that it could not be ignored forever, had at least been ignoring it for the last few weeks.
Hermione was not, by nature, prone to procrastination. She was the sort of person who liked to push up her sleeves and tackle a problem head on, in the most pragmatic way. Unfortunately, that sort of level headed, logical approach which had always faired her well, was not likely to work in this instance. And it wasn't as though she was spending the time twiddling her thumbs.
She'd been extremely busy in the few weeks that had passed since Narcissa Malfoy dropped what could be unequivocally called the bombshell of the century. Given the very generous offer from the Ministry that she take some time off preceding her hearing, in the wake of all the scandal, Hermione had an abundance of time on her hands.
It was used wisely of course. Firstly, in brushing up on her knowledge of wizarding marital custom as it was really rather remiss of her to have neglected such an important area of study. She'd also managed to convince her slightly inept assistant to continue reporting to her on the sly. In Hermione's opinion, this unexpected loyalty could counteract a whole multitude of sins and or incompetencies. She'd also had several lunches with Anthony under the guise of discussing the progress on their bilateral agreements with foreign Ministries regarding the S.P.E.W. project.
All in all she'd been very busy indeed. She had not, however, utilised the time in planting the seeds as she was expected. This was an understandable quandary, she thought. After all, how would one casually slip it into conversation with friends that she was set to marry a man who, by all accounts, she found utterly intolerable.
A lot of energy had been expended on contemplating just how exactly she was going to announce the news to her family and friends, who would most assuredly not understand. She also figured that since the entire Malfoy way of life was about to be enforced on her in a very large way, she deserved a reprieve from them for the time being. Just a few short days to help her forget all about the saga. Only those days had turned into weeks, and the repeatedly ignored messengers from Malfoy Manor were starting to get a bit violent.
She tried not to think about how she'd been chased down the street only yesterday by a trio of rampaging white owls. They may have looked gentle in nature. They were anything but.
Hermione was planning to take one of the necessary steps tonight at her dinner with Anthony. She'd seen him on several occasions and had ample opportunities to tell him about what was coming, but since he had been so supportive of the mess she was in, she hadn't quite worked up the nerve.
She may have been brave when it came to facing dragons and walking down dark allies, but admitting to a relationship with Draco Malfoy – one which ironically wasn't even real – was just a step beyond her capabilities. In any case, it was too far along now not to admit it. Both she and Malfoy were due in at the preliminary hearing in two days time, at which point they would have to tell everyone of their engagement anyway.
Narcissa Malfoy was growing increasingly venomous in her missives, which informed Hermione that the announcement had to be made a certain way. And that certain way required Hermione's obedience and attendance. These were demands to which she was, shockingly, uninclined to acquiesce. Personally, she was just relieved that the family hadn't just gone ahead and announced the betrothal regardless of her cooperation. She truly could not bear the prospect of a surprise like that greeting all of her loved ones in the morning paper.
It would be unforgivable.
In fact, Anthony was likely to find it unforgivable in any case, because it would probably seem to him that she'd led him on. Nothing had happened, per se. Not even so much as a kiss on her doorstep, but it had all seemed to be leading that way to her, and she suspected to him as well.
"Hermione?" his voice interrupted the flow of her thoughts, and she cursed herself for getting lost in them once again. She'd never been the spacey sort of girl who gazed at dust particles, and now he probably thought she didn't have an intelligent thought in her head.
She smiled guiltily as she turned her attention to him once more.
"Sorry… I just have so much on my mind at the moment; I got caught up in it. What were you saying?"
He shrugged, and she thought the way the candle light on their table caught the blond gleam of his hair was very fetching.
The restaurant was rather an intimate setting for what was, on paper, supposed to be a friendly catch up. Anthony had chosen it, and she'd felt slightly giddy as he took her hand and guided her to their little candle-lit table. In truth she would have preferred to sit somewhere that wasn't in the middle of the restaurant, given the sensitive nature of what she had to tell him.
"It's okay… you've been through the ringer." He paused and she noticed the way he placed his hand on the table, very close to her own. Her stomach flipped, with delight or horror. It was hard to differentiate. "I just said that I think you look… lovely tonight." He ducked his head a bit and a pink flush crept upon his cheeks, no doubt matching her own.
"Oh… thank you." She was fairly certain the faint blush was darkening over her cheeks. It was both mortifying and stomach-flipping all at once. He was just so nice.
His fingers then brushed over hers pleasantly, and she knew that she had to tell him. In fact, she raised her eyes to his lovely blue ones and opened her mouth to tell him the truth. Or at the very least, the version of the truth that she was going to have to go with.
"Interrupting a cosy moment, I see."
The introduction of those drawled tones to their lovely moment caused Hermione's heart to stop. Her eyes widened in horror as she turned to capture the gaze of the tall, fair man standing by their table. His grey eyes were resting firmly on the point at which her fingers joined Anthony's.
She knew, suddenly, that the night and all her hopes for solving things amicably were for nought. Anthony saw the expression in her eyes and seemed to take it that she didn't want Malfoy there, which was true, but not for the reason he thought. His hand tightened over hers.
He cleared his throat and turned his most stern expression toward the intruder.
"Malfoy. I really think it best that you leave… we're trying to have a nice dinner here. And Hermione's been through enough with the trouble you've caused."
Her heart sank. The words spoken were not unlike one waving a red flag before a bull. Malfoy cast her a quick look which told her exactly how things were about to play out, before turning back to Anthony.
She tried to interfere, but the increasing testosterone levels were too thick to cut through.
A pale brow arched in response and Malfoy tilted his head as though considering the words. "The trouble I've caused? Well now," he said, "that's rather interesting, given that you're the one with your hands on my fiancée."
Her heartbeat had been pounding so loudly in her ears that she hadn't been able to say something – anything - to intervene, until the words were out of his mouth, rather loudly at that, and all noise in the restaurant ceased.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Anthony just stared at him, as did all the other curious eyes surrounding, before swivelling as one to her.
She glared at Malfoy with as much force as possible before turning her gaze to her companion. "It's not what you think."
"What are… he's joking, right?" He looked like a contestant on one of those Muggle reality shows her father had always watched when she was little. In fact, the premise of this whole scene would have made a vastly entertaining episode, if she weren't the main player.
"No… well-" she began before being interrupted again by Malfoy.
"I'm not, actually… so I'm sure you can imagine how I'm feeling right now. You don't seem like the sort of bloke to pursue-"
The screeching sound of Anthony pushing his chair back drowned out the rest of Malfoy's comment. His hands were raised as he stared at her.
"You must think I'm an idiot," he said, staring at her. "This whole time I think we're taking it slow because that's what you wanted… didn't want to push it, you know… because of all the drama in your life. And all along the problem with him," at this he jerked his thumb in a self-satisfied Malfoy's direction, "is that he's your husband to be?"
Hermione jumped swiftly to her feet. "I was going to tell you tonight… I… it just happened and-"
"Now, now, Granger… don't lie. We've been together for months, actually. Just kept it secret because of her friends… rather tetchy lot they are."
"But you can't stand him!" This was Anthony again.
"Yes, well... she seems to get along fine with you, but I'm guessing that little display of hand holding is as far as you've got." Malfoy shrugged conspiratorially. "Women."
Anthony cast his gaze between the two, before resting a final disgusted look at her and storming out of the restaurant. The crashing of the door behind him broke the silence in the vast room, and a buzz of chattering swarmed around them.
She stared at Malfoy, who was smirking at her and passing his gaze over the folds of her simple midnight blue dress. "You look like a female, who would have thought." He whispered the words and leaned closer to her.
As much as she wanted desperately to push him away and follow after her date, she knew she had little choice. She could see it for what it was now, a ploy to showcase their relationship. She glared at him as he leaned close and brushed his palm down the exposed skin of her arm. She shivered at the contact, and he grinned in response. One hand lifted to brush errant curls from her face, and he leaned down to whisper in her ear.
"Thought you were taking too long to get the story out. You should thank me… now that I've done your dirty work for you." She hissed in response, but before she could say anything, she felt him tugging her closer. "There's a fellow in the corner with a camera… be convincing."
His arms braced her back and she stiffened immediately. The word wrong kept reverberating through her brain. She tried her best to quell it though, to soften her fists, which were so desperate sought to pummel him, into palms placed gently against his shoulders. Their cheeks brushed and the slightly spicy scent of him invaded her nostrils.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
He pulled back then smirking down at her as he was wont to do. "That ought to satisfy the gossip-mongers. Get your coat."
She did just that, not unaware that had she been leaving with Anthony, he'd have done the gentlemanly thing and fetched it for her. For a man who prided himself on his breeding, she really thought Draco Malfoy had abominable manners.
With her head held high, Hermione followed him through the throng of tables and smiled weakly at the confused Maitre d'. Almost as soon as she stepped into the cool night air, she felt Malfoy grab her wrist and the inevitable pull behind her navel which signalled Apparition.
With a pop she landed, blessedly on her feet this time, in the narrow corridor of her building. She couldn't deny she was grateful to avoid a visit to the Manor, but she was getting entirely fed up with his presumptuous use of side-along Apparition. Her nemesis was leaning, quite casually, against the corridor wall, tapping his foot impatiently.
"Quite drafty out here. Do take your time…"
"Get out of my corridor right now! I'm not in the mood to deal with you or your psychotic owls." She scowled at him and turned her wand to the doorway, simultaneously lowering the wards and turning the small silver key.
She slipped inside and made to slam the door in his face, but he'd moved forward quickly to shove a foot in the doorway. He easily pushed the door open and strode by her.
To say that Hermione was exasperated by the evening's proceedings was an understatement. She was suddenly incredibly exhausted, wanting nothing more than to curl up with Crookshanks, a good book and pretend it had never happened. He was clearly not going to let her.
"Why did you do that?" she asked, turning to face him, her cheeks flushed with anger. "I was going to tell him tonight… you couldn't just let me do it in my own time?"
"No, Granger… I couldn't. Your own time seems to be taking an eternity and we're due at the Ministry in two fucking days!" He stared at her like she had three heads, like she was the horrible person destroying both of their lives.
"You did it on purpose… so that everyone will know within minutes, my friends included. Congratulations, you were thorough."
He didn't look at all repentant. "Perhaps if you'd answered one of the many owls I'd sent you it wouldn't have come to this. I don't want to marry you… I don't want to look at you again for another century."
She looked at him, noting his own flushed cheeks and aggravation. It was sometimes difficult to recall how it was affecting him too, because of his composure and constant smart arse remarks. He'd even mentioned something about a girlfriend at one stage.
She sighed, raking an agitated hand through the tumult of her hair. "I know, okay. I know… I just… I really didn't want it getting out that way."
He snorted with laughter. "No matter what way it got out Goldstein wasn't going to be happy. Your friend's will get over it, though." He shrugged, before casting a sly looking her direction. "And anyway... really? Him?… bit of ponce to be honest."
"I think... what? He is not! Anthony Goldstein is a gentleman and-"
"Nobody moves that slow... how long have you been seeing him, Granger? Or is it that he once saw you in that jumper you wore to the-"
"A few months and... well we're friends, not that it's any of your-"
"Months! What did I tell you? A ponce."
"Shut up, Malfoy... and anyway are you planning on filling me in on your own relationship? No doubt some highly pretentious, equally pasty looking girl who-"
He shot toward her so fast her head nearly spun, his hand pressed to the base of her neck and rested heavy on her collarbone. Her eyes flew to his in alarm.
"Don't ever talk about her like that."
She was almost at a loss for words at the strength of his reaction, and its intrinsically violent nature.
She swallowed, speaking slowly because she felt no urge to make him press harder on her larynx. She'd never attributed any great strength to him before, but she was suddenly very conscious of how breakable she was by comparison.
"So it's okay for you to make disparaging comments about my love life, but I can't-"
"You don't have a love life. I thought we already ascertained that." He let go of her then, and took a step back. He cast his ashy gaze away from her when she rubbed gingerly at her throat.
"Was there a reason you came here, other than to harass me further?"
With an ease that disconcerted her, he slipped back into his flippant, drawled tones. "That's usually incentive enough, but on this occasion yes... I did have a reason." His hand slipped into a pocket and removed a small black box. Her eyes flew up to his. "You'll need this... but don't lose it. That ring is worth more than you are."
Her mouth dropped open to respond, but she quite forgot what she had planned to say because a loud thumping started at her front door. This was followed by repeated shouts of her name in a couple of very familiar voices.
Her gaze flew to his.
"Are you connected to the Floo Network? Because I rather think that's my cue to leave."
Well, she thought, at least he was gone. Now she had a few very hot heads to deal with. The pounding continued, even after Malfoy had left. Still holding the small box, she went to open the door.
Harry and Ron looked like they'd been arguing on the way over, and had clearly warmed to their topic.
"Where is he?" Ron prowled around the room like a caged animal when she finally let him in.
"It's a joke, right? You're not actually engaged to Malfoy?" This was Harry, clearly trying to compensate for the lack of tact shown by Ron.
"If you thought it was a joke then why did you come pounding on my door like a pair of lunatics?"
Ron stopped to look at her and Harry's mouth was partially agape. This was probably because there was nothing appeasing about her tone. In fact she was rather fed up with high testosterone levels today and the last thing she needed was a lecture from her friends.
"I don't believe it," said Harry finally.
Neither did she.
She took a deep breath and opened the small box. Inside was the diamond ring she'd been expecting, in all its square cut beauty. She resented it immediately though, because it didn't mean anything. She slipped it on nonetheless, trying to ignore the alien feeling.
"Look... we've been keeping it a secret because I knew this was how you'd react. It just… happened. And I – I shouldn't have to justify my feelings to you both. I know you're concerned but..." She just shrugged and neither of them seemed to know how to respond.
"This has something to do with the trial." The words, spoken in a relatively calm voice, had come surprisingly enough from Ron.
"No it... you're both harbouring grudges. But you can't because I lo – I'm marrying him. Now go, both of you. We can discuss this tomorrow. It's been a crazy night and I have a lot going on so..."
They both cast each other determined looks, which spoke plainly of their suspicion, and allowed her to push them out the front door.
When it was closed she slumped against its solid weight, relishing the comforting purr of her feline friend who came to join her. Crookshanks at the very least wasn't angry with her. It made a refreshing change.
Hermione looked down at the gleaming ring on her left hand. It was a prop for their play, but thus far she had been horrendously unconvincing. Whilst she had known that neither of her friends would accept the situation, they knew her too well; she had to at the very least make an attempt at convincing everyone else. How she was going to achieve that, she wasn't entirely sure.
And she now had further issues to consider. She had to stop thinking of Draco Malfoy as the spoilt little boy he had once been, had to reconcile him with the man he had become. The problem being that she didn't really know what sort of man that was.
He flipped personas like he was putting on new masks, and each was as perplexing to her as the other. One thing she had determined, however, was that in spite of her doubts that anybody could love such a man, clearly there was someone out there that he loved back. It was the most troubling thought of all.