Breath in-breath out. Breath in-breath out.
Hermione's breathing became shallow as the doors opened.
"There they are!" John Claret announced, ending a quiet conversation between Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Claret. The men in the armchairs sat ramrod straight, yet their expressions showed informality and a close relationship. He motioned the teenagers to take seats in two chairs across from them. They sat stiffly, uncomfortable with the seating arrangements; it very closely resembled being on trial.
"Now, there is a very important matter we must attend to immediately." Clara/Hermione's father began once everyone was settled properly. "When the two of you were little – or babies, really – a lot was uncertain." He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "You have to understand that the Dark Lord was at the height of his power, and the only way we could guarantee your safety was to – well…" Mr. Claret put his hand to his face and rubbed it anxiously. Clara was at the edge of her seat, eager face leaning forward. What? What was the only way you could guarantee my safety? "It was the only way; it was dangerous if it wasn't done." He took his hand from his face and stared into his daughter's eyes.
"We signed a contract a year after you were born, several months after the birth of the Malfoy's child. It wouldn't be long before the Dark Lord fell, but he was very demanding in his followers. Male children showed promise, female ones did not. What was a female to the Dark Lord but an individual destined, in his eyes, to become passive in all the ways of war? There was Bellatrix, but of course, she was different, always hard to the core." He paused for a moment, looking for the right words. The room was thick with angst as he struggled.
"The Dark Lord eventually fell, and the Death Eaters were put on trial. We knew it would be suspicious, but we went into hiding. Everything had to be changed: our looks, our names, our occupations. All of it. We knew the Ministry would come after us one day, and they did, but we covered our tracks well enough that they found nothing." He stopped, waiting for a reaction, and after receiving none, carried on with the story.
"As a muggleborn we knew it would be hard for you, but we had no idea you would so quickly befriend the bane of the pureblooded world's existence: Harry Potter! We had talked of telling you your true heritage, but now there was no way.
"Since the Ministry incident a few months ago, the Dark Lord's power has grown. Your mother's sister, who was the only one to know where we were, contacted us, and alerted us that he was recruiting again.
"It was time we came out of hiding. This is a dangerous business; I don't even know our status with him now. We could be punished." Clara's eyes widened at his words.
"No… he wouldn't…" She breathed.
"We're sorry, Clara. We should have told you sooner." Her mother consoled. Clara gulped.
"What about the contract?" Clara said quietly, distracting herself from the horrid concept of Voldemort hurting her parents. Her father sighed.
"The contract was supposed to create the idea in the Dark Lord's mind that you weren't worthless, but worth much, much more to his new world idea. It would have to magically bind you to a worthy magical candidate and hold you to a promise that would be carried out seventeen years later." Her father took another moment to pause, for dramatic effect, she didn't know, but his next words knocked the sure wind out of her.
"We signed for your marriage when you came of age."
Clara stayed still.
"What?" She finally whispered.
"We had to do it!" He pleaded. "Even now, with the Dark Lord back in power, he will want to make sure the contract is still in place.
"Clara," Her father's voice was softer now, and he was on his knees in front of her chair, taking her hands in his. "Please, you must do what we ask. If you don't, we could all die. You must marry Draco and-"
"What!" Clara exclaimed, jetting out of her seat. She looked form her parents to the Malfoy's.
"Draco is a sure wizard in the eyes of the Dark Lord. If you marry him, you will be safe." Her father told her with his hands still clasping hers. She pried them away and stepped back, breathing hard.
Then she darted from the room, heart beating fast, and with the clap of her shoes against cold marble.
"Were terribly sorry for our daughter's outburst." Mrs. Claret apologized to the Malfoys. She felt disappointed Clara had acted so abruptly, but could not blame her child.
"It's quite alright, Mary. The girl only needs… time." Mr. Malfoy said cryptically. The Claret's nodded solemnly.
"We will still see you tomorrow evening?" Mary asked.
"Of course. We would not miss our son's engagement dinner." Mrs. Malfoy told them. Draco's eyes widened, but he stayed quiet. Luscious stood up, tall and imposing to anyone who did not know him as the Claret's did, and tapped his can on his son's left.
"We will leave now; there is a lot to prepare for." The man gave his arm to his wife and directed his son into the large fireplace at the head of the room. The couple stepped inside once Draco had gone and waved, Luscious adding, "Tomorrow night then!"
In a flash, they were eaten by the flames.
The flames had barely disappeared before Luscious Malfoy was charging towards his son, cane pointed.
"Sit." Mr. Malfoy commanded his son. Draco obeyed.
"I might as well lay all the rules for you now. No doubt you'll go searching for a loophole in the contract." Mr. Malfoy sighed in a way that told his audience he had better things to be doing. "Sixteen years ago, we signed this contract as a favor to a friend, with no idea the two of you would grow up to eventually loathe the sight of the other. The situation has changed." Luscious looked at his son imploringly. "You are to marry the girl. This family will not be shamed; you will do it." Mrs. Malfoy watched her husband sweep away, coat flying behind. Draco stared at the floor.
If there were anyone on earth so confused, it was the poor Malfoy boy. He was torn. The girl at the Claret Manor was quite a sight for sore eyes, someone he would have absolutely no problem marrying forcibly.
Except for the fact that beneath her long curls, wide eyes, and thin lips laid Hermione Granger, bookworm extraordinaire, defender of everything un-pureblood, and Harry Potter's best friend, next to that twit, Weasel.
There first moment of true conversation involved him admitting that, yes, he was aware that she was that mudblood he had so avidly hated before. If that wasn't a conversation stopper, he didn't know what was.
His mother stared a moment longer after her husband, perhaps making sure he was surely gone, before turning to her dear Draco.
"Draco, you must listen to me." She spoke quietly, and with great earnest. Draco looked at his mother. "Your father… Your father's imprisonment was the deepest shame of the family. Do not shame us further by rejecting this marriage. If this marriage goes well, the Malfoy name will be restored." She paused for a moment to look back at the door. She dropped her voice to a whisper and got closer to her son.
"I know what the Dark Lord has asked of you this year, but you must conduct yourself without alerting anyone else not involved. The ministry will be watching us and the Claret's closely. We must not look suspicious." Mrs. Malfoy gripped Draco's hands tightly for a moment, as if the motion would allow Draco to see the heavy weight of the ordeal.
And it did.
As Mrs. Malfoy walked through the door her husband had taken, Draco buried his head in his hands, miserably succumbing to what he had to do.
Pat, pat, pat.
She ran like a crazy woman down the corridors.
Clara's eyes were streaming, making navigating the confusing hallways even harder. She wobbled from side to side as her feet hit the floor dully.
Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my goodness…
Oh, what cruel fate had done this to her? She was a good child, always doing her work. She was the top of her class! She was best friends with the Boy Who Lived, helping endlessly to defeat the darkest wizard of all time… Instead, she finds out her parents work for the evil man. But not before they told her she had to marry one of the cruelest boys she knew. All within twenty-four hours.
Her life seemed hopeless.
A door suddenly opened up ahead, embellished with only a pretty golden doorknob. Being under the influence of her intense emotions, Clara could hardly comprehend why on earth a door would open for her so mysteriously, so she ran inside, glad for the empty space. She threw herself into the nearest chair without the faintest idea to look around.
In a word, the room was regal.
The walls, the drapes, the ceiling and the lamps were a nice cream color. A grand chandelier hung from the top. The bed, with a cream colored cover, was king sized and had a large, drape canopy to match. In the center of the room was an intimate space for small gatherings, complete with two plush pink love seats, a coffee table, and two armchairs that matched the color of the walls. The carpet was floral printed.
The tears didn't stop, but the sobbing did. She lifted her head and wiped the water from her eyes, taking a sharp breath at what she saw. Her gaze lingered on the window and the large balcony outside overlooking the gardens. Suddenly, her chest filled with longing for an escape, a place to go that could be hers and hers only. If only…
"I see you've found your room." A woman asked behind Clara. Clara turned around to see her mother. "It was magically charmed for you when you were born." The older woman continued. Clara turned around obstinately and covered her face.
"Oh, darling." Mrs. Claret consoled. "I know this is-"
"You know?" Clara cut her mother off vehemently. "How could you possibly know how I feel right now?" Clara turned away pointedly and rubbed her eyes while sniffing. "It's just…" She tried again. "It's just so much to take in…"
"We only did this for your safety, not because we want to see you miserable."
Clara said nothing. Mary sighed.
"Come dear, stand up. I want to take you somewhere." Clara's interest perked at the sound of leaving.
"Where are we going?" The younger witch asked.
"To my sister's house. To the Zabini's."
How was it?
If anyone is confused about anything, feel free to let me know so I can clear it up. If you're confused about something, someone else probably is, too.
I know I like to have visuals, so here is the picture of the dress Hermione is wearing in this chapter. The (DOT)s should be replaced with periods.
http:/www(DOT)flickr(DOT)com/photos/51066263N07/4720228912/
This is Hermione's bedroom:
http:/www(DOT)flickr(DOT)com/photos/51066263N07/4731850579/
In the next chapter: A Zabini frenzy, an engagement dinner (to be taken in a very literal sense – wink, wink), and some more internal conflict.
Cheers!