"The nerve of some people!"
Lucius Malfoy frowned at the shriek of his wife and looked up. Narcissa was pacing around the room, mumbling wildly to herself. Lucius placed his cup of tea and newspaper, The Greedy Galleon, down on the table and cleared his throat in an attempt to rouse Narcissa from her thoughts. Narcissa looked up at him with sharp eyes and stopped, placing her hands on her hips.
"I'm going out. I should be back for lunch," she said and turned, marching from the room, presumably to change into something decent. Lucius raised his brows at Narcissa's back but she had already swept from the dining room and up the stairs to their bedroom. He released a sigh and shook his head as he picked up his newspaper once more. Narcissa returned five minutes later in a pretty black dress, her shoes clipping noisily against the marble floor.
"Darling, where are you going?" Lucius called, not looking up from his paper.
"To hex Barnabus Laphroaig into last century," she replied back and he frowned once more. "Check the front page of the Prophet."
"Can I watch?" Lucius muttered to himself, abandoning The Greedy Galleon in favour for The Daily Prophet and his eyes widened. "What in Merlin's name is this?"
Narcissa walked confidently and quickly through the halls, ignoring the cries of protests from underlings and interns. A young wizard, fresh out of Hogwarts by the looks of him, tried to stop her but she sent a glare his way that had him recoiling behind his desk. When she reached her destination, she was stopped by a confident woman.
"You can't go in there, miss. Mister Laphroaig is in a meeting," she said, coming to stand between Narcissa and the grand oak doors.
"I don't care. I am going in there, and I seriously doubt you will stop me," Narcissa said coldly.
"Miss, I will resort to force if it is necessary," the woman said.
"Are you threatening me? Do you have any idea who I am?" Narcissa's voice was shrill and the woman only shook her head. "You will get out of my way, or so help me, I will curse you without a moment's hesitation."
"Miss, I can't let you do that," the woman reached for her wand and Narcissa snorted.
"Move. Let me in, or you will feel what it is like to be cursed by Narcissa Malfoy, and that is not an experience you will wish to live with," Narcissa's voice was low and deadly and the woman flinched.
"Lady Malfoy! Please, please forgive me! I meant no harm, simply protocol," she squeaked.
"It is protocol to threaten all of Barnabus' visitors. Strange, but understandable. Now, I am going to go in there, and you are not to allow anyone in, no matter how loudly Barnabus is screaming. Are we clear?"
"Crystal, Lady Malfoy," the woman nodded, waving her wand to unlock the oak doors. Narcissa flashed her a smile and glided through the doors, keeping the pleasant smile plastered upon her face.
"Yes, it is quite the scandal, so I would certainly be willing to pay that much for any more pictures you may have," a squeaky voice, belonging to the particularly squat Barnabus Laphroaig said, oblivious to Narcissa's entrance.
"I would not do that if I were you. Judging by the slander you've posted on the front page of your newspaper today, you're talking about my son and Hermione Granger, and I can assure you, any photos are fabricated," Narcissa interrupted, seating herself in a lounge chair in the corner of the large room. Barnabus jumped, hitting his head on the mantle and ending the Floo conversation he was having.
"Oh! Narcissa. How charming it is to see you," he simpered, scuttling over towards her and grasping her hand. She sneered coldly at his form and he stood to his full height, barely as tall as Narcissa when she was seated.
"I cannot say the same about you, Barnabus," her voice was cool and he paled slightly.
"Wh-wh-what do you mean, Cissy?"
"Don't call me that! You know perfectly well what I mean. How dare you publish photos of my son without my permission?" she stood and he shrunk away from her full height.
"Little bit embarrassing for young Draco to be seen with Miss Granger, is it?" Barnabus' voice was surprisingly confident.
"You forget, Barnabus, that my family is your major funder, and that you know nothing about us," Narcissa hissed, lowering herself to his height. "If you even think of publishing anything more on my family or Miss Granger, then I will crush you. Do not underestimate me."
"We can find other funders," Barnabus lied and Narcissa quirked her brow.
"No you cannot. You're turning the Prophet into a gossip tabloid, and my family and my family's money will not stand for it much longer. Either get some decent reporters and decent news, remove any trace of my family's mention in the slander you call news, and then maybe we will continue to fund you. If you don't comply, you will be even closer to the ground than you already are," Narcissa stood, straightened her dress and smiled placidly at Barnabus who was now very pale and very shaken. "Good day, Barnabus."
Barnabus whimpered in reply as she turned on her heel and marched from the room, ridiculously pleased with how the meeting had gone.
Hermione groaned, rolling over and burying her face in a pillow. The groan instantly made her headache infinitely worse and she reached up blindly to press against her temple with her hand in a vain attempt to soothe the throbbing. Altheda meowed from the foot of her bed and the sound made her head pound again. The light was invading the room and piercing the back of her eyelids and she felt like death warmed over. To make matters worse she was in a ridiculously uncomfortable piece of clothing that was far too tight to sleep in.
After coming to the realization that the sun would not go away on its own, nor would her pounding headache, she sat up. Her head spun and the pain increased and she could feel bile burning the back of her throat. In fast movements that surprised even herself, Hermione had dived from the bed and into the bathroom and was bent over the toilet, retching. When her stomach was empty she collapsed backwards, resting her head against the cool tiled floor until she regained her strength to stand.
She noticed she was still in her dress from the night before and blushed at the hazy memory of Draco helping her home. Wiggling from the tight garment she let it fall to the floor along with her knickers and bra and allowed herself a long, steaming hot shower. She scrubbed herself clean, shaved, massaged liberal amounts of shampoo into her hair, and it was only when she felt sparkling clean did she shut the hot water off. The water seemed to have washed away her headache, and Hermione felt much better.
She dressed simply in black yoga pants and a tank top and was soon curled in her lounge room, a book open on her lap and her hand clutching a cup of tea. She felt remarkably calm and entirely at ease and was having a lovely time reading about the use of dried and powdered gillyweed as an execution method in ancient wizarding Greece. That was until her fireplace erupted in bright green flames and out stepped a furious redhead, closely followed by her husband and their young son who was bawling. Apparently James Potter did not like to travel by Floo.
"Ginny? Harry?" Hermione asked once she had recovered from the shock of their arrival. "What are you guys doing here?"
"Sorry, Hermione. I told her to call ahead, but she didn't listen," Harry said quietly and Hermione frowned at Ginny who held up her hand to silence him.
"Why the hell didn't you tell us?" Ginny snapped, pacing back and forth in front of Hermione.
"Tell you what?" Hermione asked, closing her book and crossing her arms defensively.
"That you're dating Malfoy! I knew it when he was here the other week! I can't believe you're dating him!" Ginny tossed something in Hermione's lap and the brunette realized that it was the Daily Prophet, which she had not yet had the chance to read.
"I'm what?" Hermione's voice was shrill and she had snatched up the paper. Sure enough, on the front cover, was a very large picture of her and Draco. Draco had his arm around her waist and she was leaning into him. From anyone's perspective it looked as though she was whispering something into his ear and his face was bright. She watched with a sinking feeling as her photograph-self leaned into Draco again and again, her lips parting quite close to his ear, and a smirk forming on the blonde's face. "But, this isn't true. Who would even-," Hermione was furious. She looked past the picture and found the article (continued on pages two, three, four and five) to find that the reporter was Lavender Brown.
"Well?" Ginny's voice was impatient.
"I am going to kill Lavender fucking Brown," Hermione spat through gritted teeth, standing up suddenly and throwing the paper into the fireplace.
"How could you not tell us?" Ginny said. "Did you think you could keep it a secret forever?"
"What are you talking about? I am not dating Draco Malfoy!" Hermione felt like screaming, but kept her voice firm and level.
"Then what the hell is this?" Ginny prodded a finger towards the fireplace where the newspaper was slowly curling and burning.
"I went to Paris with Narcissa yesterday and we went out for dinner. Draco was there, and I had a bit to drink, and he helped me get home. Nothing happened," Hermione tossed her hands up in exasperation and fell back into the seat she had been curled in.
"Why were you in Paris with Narcissa Malfoy?" Harry asked with a frown. "Since when were you friends with her?"
"She was one of the major donators to my charity before the divorce. When I came back into wizarding society she helped me avoid any horrid things people were saying. She wants to restart my charity," Hermione explained.
"Where was she in the photograph, then?" Ginny questioned. Her voice was still accusing, but less so than before. Hermione was relieved.
"She was walking ahead with a friend of hers. I suppose the photographer only wanted the scandalous part of the photo which just so happens to be Draco being a gentleman," Hermione stated and Ginny looked appease.
"Damn right I was just being a gentleman," came the all too familiar voice of Draco, and Hermione turned to the fireplace. His dishevelled head sat in flickering green flames. "Potter. Potter. Mini Potter," he nodded to the other occupants of the room. Harry raised a hand in greeting, Ginny nodded back and James cooed.
"Draco? What is your head doing in my fire?" Hermione had moved to sit on the floor in front of the fire.
"I'm at the Manor. I'm just letting you know my mother is on damage control. Father said she left in a rage, swearing to hex Barnabus Laphroaig. Merlin, I hope she does. That fat little man has done enough damage as it is," Draco's head shook itself in the fire. "I suggest you don't go anywhere near wizarding London unless you would like to be swarmed upon by reporters. Mother will probably want to visit as well, so keep your Floo networks opened."
"Thanks, Draco. Tell your mother that I said thanks, as well," Hermione smiled at the head in her fireplace which gave a lazy smirk back.
"Will do. See you around," with a final pop Draco's head vanished from sight and the flames returned to orange.
"Well, um, sorry for the misunderstanding, Hermione. I guess I was a bit hasty about it all," Ginny apologized sheepishly and Harry nodded along.
"Don't worry, guys. You had every reason to be suspicious. But you seriously thought that I would date Draco Malfoy?" she asked sceptically and Ginny's face turned as red as her hair. "Seriously?" Hermione laughed and Ginny nodded.
"Gin, James is getting tired. It's time for his nap," Harry reminded his wife, trying to comfort their fussing son. "Sorry about this, Hermione. In future I'll tell her to call ahead and think about things logically before barging through your fireplace," Harry winked at Hermione who grinned.
"Your impromptu visits are all I live for," she quipped and Harry laughed.
"Oh shut it, both of you," Ginny snapped, taking James from Harry's arms and stalking to the fireplace. "Twelve Grimmauld Place!" she cried out, tossing a handful of Floo powder into the fire and stepping into the green flames. Harry followed suit with a final wave to Hermione who shook her head at the pair and returned to her reading.
"Mari, I'm going out. I need to talk to Hermione," Ron called, his aggravation clear in his voice. Marietta could hear him stomping around upstairs as he got dressed and she held baby Rose close to her body, calming her. Ron's heavy footfalls sounded on the stairs and he poked his head into the sitting room. "I should only be an hour or so. You'll be fine without me, right?"
"Hm? Oh, yeah, of course," she nodded vacantly and Ron frowned at her, reaching her in two strides. He knelt on the floor before her and cradled her face in his hands.
"You're okay, aren't you, Mari?" he asked worriedly, blue eyes roaming over her face to see for any signs of distress.
"I'm fine, Ron," she forced a thin smile and it seemed to appease him. He pressed his lips to her forehead and then gave Rose a kiss on the cheek.
"I'll be back soon. Don't you go anywhere," Ron said. She heard the front door open and close and then a loud crack as he apparated away, and then she stood. She held Rose close to her body and rushed up the stairs to the bedroom where she placed the baby on the bed. Rose gurgled when she was put down and Marietta couldn't help but smile at the sound. This was her baby, her daughter. She had created this little life.
After a little bit of scrambling she pulled her wand from the top drawer of her bedside table and hastened over to the child, holding her wand in front of her. Rose gave a toothless smile when Marietta's face appeared overhead. Marietta extended her wand over the child and cleared her throat.
"Nomen vestri abbas," she murmured, pointing the wand at Rose. A thin blue light shot from the end of the wand, wrapping itself around Rose's body once before shooting up to hover in the air before Marietta's eyes. The light wound itself into two words, a name, and Marietta let out a little shriek, quickly moving her wand through the words to make them disappear. "What have I done?"
Draco was desperate for a firewhiskey. It was only three o'clock in the afternoon and he was rifling through the liquor cupboard, searching for the oldest vintage he could find. He finally withdrew the bottle and poured some of the dark liquid into a glass, collapsing into an armchair with it firmly in his grasp. He released a long sigh and took a deep drink.
His first encounter of the day had been with his old friend Pansy Zabini, nee Parkinson. The pretty Slytherin had turned up in his room at seven o'clock in the morning when he was still fast asleep, and had promptly decided to pour water all over him. He had leapt out of the bed immediately whilst she stood laughing, tears of mirth running down her cheeks. After he had cleaned himself up she confronted him with the newspaper. Pansy had raised a perfectly tweezed brow in question at the article and he had dropped his cup of tea.
Just as he had talked Pansy around about the article, confirming to her that it was all a lie but that he was friends with Hermione, Astoria decided to pay a visit. His ex-wife was dressed only in a lacy garment that revealed more than it hid. She had flown into a rage at the article, saying that he was a filthy traitor for even thinking about being with Hermione Granger. Then she had seen Pansy and had flown into a rage at her being there. Draco finally restrained his raging ex-wife with a body-bind curse before unceremoniously sending her, via portkey, back to her own home.
Pansy had laughed at this, putting up her feet on the coffee table, and he had scowled at her. Not five minutes later did his doorbell ring, and when he answered he was so furious he very nearly tore off the hinges. He found himself face to face with Theodore Nott, who had a disbelieving look on his face.
Six hours and eight visits later from Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini, Marcus Flint, Astoria again, Narcissa, Lucius, Daphne Greengrass, and finally a particularly nosy Lavender Brown, he was comfortably seated in his living room with his firewhiskey. He could hear Pansy rattling about in his kitchen, fixing herself a sandwich. She had stuck around all day, amusing herself by watching the exchanges between Draco and his various guests. Her favourite visits were from the Greengrasses and Lavender Brown. All three seemed to be dying to get close to Draco who could not be more repulsed. Pansy had been doubled over in laughter when Lavender had tried to seduce him into giving an interview.
"Drake, are you sure you don't want anything?" she called from the kitchen. Draco sighed at the shortening of his name.
"I'm fine, Pans. Just hurry up and eat your sandwich so you can go ahead and irritate someone else," he replied and took a swig of his drink, the liquid burning a trail down his throat. Pansy returned holding a plate with her meal and a glass of wine. "Yeah, go ahead. Help yourself to my alcohol," Draco muttered.
"Thanks, Drake. You're so sweet," she said in a falsely sweet voice, seating herself across from him in another arm chair. She lifted her feet and placed them on the coffee table. "You look tired," she remarked.
"No shit, Sherlock," Draco rolled his eyes and leant his head against the back of the chair.
"Who is Sherlock?" Pansy frowned.
"Muggle stuff. Never mind. Why are you even here?"
"That's not very nice," Pansy pouted, finishing one half of her sandwich. "I was bored, and I think I'm pregnant," she said nonchalantly.
"What?" Draco sat bolt upright in his chair, his firewhiskey swilling over the edge of the glass. He snatched the glass of wine that was halfway towards Pansy's mouth and downed it in one gulp. "What the hell do you think you're doing, drinking when you're pregnant?"
"Calm down, Draco. I was only joking," she said coolly and he scowled at her. "You know I would never have kids. They're too bloody sticky."
Draco snorted. "Good luck getting Blaise to agree with that in the long run. He's going to want the Zabini line to carry on."
"I've just told Blaise that if he gets me pregnant, he'll never have sex again. I think I've scared him off kids for now," Pansy winked and Draco choked on his firewhiskey. "Can you get me more wine? Someone very rudely took mine from me."
"Ronald Weasley! How dare you say that! Why do you have everything against anyone I date?" Hermione screeched. She felt like throwing something at the freckly redhead who stood in her living room. "I have said nothing about you and Mariette, so don't you dare say anything about me and whoever the hell I choose to date!"
"It isn't just anyone, Hermione!" Ron bellowed. "It's Draco sodding Malfoy! This is the bastard who teased us all for our entire time at Hogwarts. He killed Dumbledore! He killed Fred!"
"Draco didn't do any of that, Ronald! He was just a kid! Voldemort was threatening to kill his parents if he refused!" Hermione replied angrily.
"So bloody what? He is evil. His whole stupid family is evil! How could you even think of dating him?"
"I am not dating him!" Hermione really did throw something at Ron this time, a particularly heavy book to be precise. It hit his shoulder and he stumbled backwards. "And his family is not evil! I will have you know that they've put their prejudices aside and I am good friends with Narcissa. Maybe you should put your prejudices aside and take a look at yourself."
"Take a look at myself? Why the hell would I need to do that? I'm perfectly in order," Ron snarled, grasping the shoulder that had been hit.
"You're blinded by petty schoolyard rivalry, Ron. You can't keep holding that against him. He's changed. You haven't," Hermione accused Ron who looked shocked.
"You're the one who seems to have changed, Hermione. How could you forget the things he's done to you? To us?"
"I haven't forgotten, Ronald. Not by a long shot," she admitted. "But I've forgiven him for some of what he's done. He was a kid. A dumb kid. You did dumb stuff when you were younger. We all did."
"Dumb stuff? Yeah, I hid my mum's wand as a joke a couple of times. That's dumb stuff. He let Death Eaters into the fucking school! That's not dumb! That's evil!" Ron was yelling again.
"He is not evil! He was being threatened. What would you do if someone was threatening to kill your family if you didn't do something?" Hermione demanded.
"Th-We-That's entirely beside the point!" Ron spluttered.
"You know damn well that it isn't, Ronald. You don't know Draco Malfoy, so don't you even think about making assumptions regarding him," Hermione said coldly. "Now, if you don't mind, I would really appreciate it if you would get the hell out of my house."
"Fine," Ron spat. "Have fun with your Death Eater scum boyfriend."
"He is not my boyfriend!" Hermione screeched at the spot Ron had just apparated from.
"Mari?"
Marietta froze over Rose's crib. The baby was fast asleep. She had been fussing since Marietta had performed the spell, and Marietta didn't want her to wake. When Rose was awake, Marietta's betrayal would be at its strongest.
"Coming, Ron," she called softly. She heard him grunt in reply and fall into a seat in the living room with a soft poof. She hurried downstairs and stood in front of him nervously.
"What's wrong, Mari?" he asked. He looked angry.
"I have something to tell you."
"What is it, Mari?" he stood, taking her hands in his own. She looked into his eyes and took a deep breath.
A/N: I end it there because I am evil, and in all likelihoods you will have to wait until next week for another chapter. Well, if you piece everything together then I don't think it will be too difficult to figure out, but hey!
Next chapter there will be more Draco/Hermione interaction, don't worry! Also, I've put up some links to various websites of mine in my profile, so PLEASE go and take a look!