Draco and Hermione bid adieu to Blaise in the Honeydukes' storeroom and Apparated to the front gates of the Malfoy Manor together. Hermione looked up at the giant iron-wrought gates of the Manor and repressed a shudder at the memories that it dredged up. All at once the iron wrought railings moulded itself into a mouth. Next to her, Hermione felt Draco cringe. Clearly he anticipated what the door would say, for he grabbed her hand and walked through it. Hermione had a split second view of Draco passing through the gates as smoke, before she was pulled along through. She was barely inside when Draco quickly apparated them without so much as an "if I may?"
Hermione felt herself make contact with solid ground again in an unknown place for the third time that night. She was about to launch into a tirade of insults against Draco's presumptuousness on Apparating her as he pleased, when she caught sight of the room they were in: It was breathtaking. It was done entirely in diverging shades of subtle sapphire blue. The furniture was a beautiful dull gold to complement the tasteful colour scheme. All the portraits hanging on the walls had identical wrought frames and there were several priceless ornaments adorning a heavy marble mantle-piece on a midnight blue wall opposite her. Before Hermione could comment on the obvious beauty of the room, she heard the heavy gold door to her left open.
Turning, she stifled a groan as she saw Narcissa Malfoy glide into the room.
Narcissa swept across the room with all the elegance of a ballerina and embraced her only child fiercely and planted a kiss on each cheek. Hermione noted with amusement that Draco's pale cheeks had a faint tinging of pink at this overly affectionate welcome.
"Thank Merlin you're back Draco," said Narcissa breathlessly, "We were beginning to worry that maybe you didn't make it."
"I'm fine Mother, don't fuss," said Draco gently disengaging his mother's arms from around his torso. "I would like to officially present Hermione Granger to you"
Narcissa stepped back and surveyed Hermione, while, unbeknownst to her, Hermione did the same. The aftermath of the war had changed the older witch in more ways than one. She no longer had her characteristic expression of looking as though she had just smelled something awful. Instead, her eyes had the quiet desperation of trying to protect her family and her tall stature made her look courageous over arrogant. Looking closely Hermione noticed faint dark shadows under her eyes. Clearly Narcissa was having trouble sleeping. This was not the look of a shallow lady of society, this was clearly a fiercely brave woman who had no qualms lying to Voldemort himself to save her only son's life. Hermione found herself shrinking back slightly and politely inclining her head. Narcissa stiffly mirrored the gesture, still surveying her hesitantly. Draco was unsure of what to say or do next, but thankfully the silence was broken by a far-off high pitched squeal that made him cringe every time he heard it.
"Oh let him squeal Draco," chided Narcissa, her face crinkling into her first genuine smile of the evening.
"Mother, I don't care how strongly you feel about this, little boys do not squeal like pigs, or worse, girls," said Draco firmly.
"I want him to enjoy his childhood, just like you enjoyed yours. In fact, your squeals were significantly louder and more high-pitched." Narcissa smirked, clearly enjoying her son's discomfort.
Hermione heard Draco mumble something along the lines of "if the bloody old bat wants a daughter so bad she should find one". She was still confused as to whom their conversation referred to. Surely Draco didn't have any siblings? Her train of thought was interrupted as three house-elves wearing oddly done make-up ran inside the room and immediately bowed down in the presence of the humans before hiding behind Draco's robed legs. They smelled curiously of a flowery perfume.
"Master Draco, little master is trying to put us in clothes again," one of the older house-elves sputtered, while the other two nodded fervently, their dangling earrings swaying, "we got away just before he bought out mistress' cloaks and dress robes."
"Great. Now he has a fetish for cross dressing elves…" mumbled Draco, shooting his mother a trademark glare as she giggled in a most un-Narcissa fashion. Hermione was struggling to follow the chain of events, and the copious amount of perfume was giving her a headache.
"Let's go find the little troublemaker before he finds us." Narcissa suggested, elegantly picking up a fold of her pale silk nightgown and delicately spreading its train behind her. Hermione silently observed that the train of her nightgown glittered with millions of seed-pearls. So far none of the events that had taken place in the Malfoy Manor had matched up with her expectations of what would happen. Draco's family seemed not only normal but also… fun.
"Granger?"
Hermione jumped out of her reverie as she realised Draco was addressing her.
"Sorry, spaced out for a second there," mumbled Hermione, feeling wrong-footed, "You were saying?"
"Would you mind if I may take your leave? I have a matter to attend to and I'm sure you would rather rest?" It was amazing how much more polite Draco Malfoy became in the presence of his mother. Hermione resisted the urge to grin as at least twenty quips about mother issues and the Oedipus complex flooded her brain.
Just as well we're being polite, Malfoy probably doesn't even know who Freud is she thought, as she nodded her assent.
Hermione tried not to gasp as she saw the grandeur of the hallways in the Manor. Small but elaborate crystal chandeliers hung every few feet, and to her surprise all the hallways had multiple glass windows with elegant spidery mosaic designs on them in pale grey.
"This is my favourite hallway," said Narcissa unexpectedly, catching Hermione's eye, "I often get bored at the Manor so I spend my time redecorating the place. I designed this hallway with the concept of light and dark in mind. During the day the light streams in through the windows and the mosaic designs on the glass create shadows on the floor and through an intermittently place Reflecting charm, it catches the overhead chandeliers at especial angles to make rainbow displays on the walls."
Hermione was dumbstruck. She had always mentally dismissed Narcissa as a housewife, but if the thought that had been put into this hallway was any indication, Narcissa was clearly gifted and creative.
"It's beautiful," she said softly, looking around once more.
"Thank you." Narcissa acknowledged Hermione's appreciation with another subtle inclination of her blonde head. Hermione felt woefully inadequate next to Narcissa's regal beauty. Both witches were dressed for bed, but Narcissa was still immaculate. Her nightgown was a work of art, and her hair hung down to her waist in a sheet of gold. Hermione was painfully reminded of her faded cotton nightdress and no doubt unruly curls. She snuck a quick peek at Draco as he walked next to her. He had certainly filled out in the last three years. Not to mention, he was impeccably dressed in stiff black silk robes that no doubt complemented the expensive cloak she had around her shoulders. It was curious how she had never noticed that there was something very refined about the Malfoys back in her former associations with them. It was amazing how much prejudice could blind you to the good qualities of others.
Draco pushed open another heavy door at the end of the hallway and held it open for his mother and his wife-to-be to walk through.
"This is where I say farewell. I hope you have a pleasant sleep, and I will be happy to answer all your questions tomorrow when you're awake," said Draco, as he lifted Hermione's limp hand to lips. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Narcissa give Draco the smallest of approving nods. Mummy's boy indeed. She bit back her laughter yet again and allowed her eyelashes to sweep over her eyes, hopefully hiding her mirth.
Draco turned and strode back down the magnificent hallway, his expensive robes swirling behind him as he walked. Even at this late hour he exuded nothing but confidence and class. Hermione realised she'd been staring when Narcissa delicately coughed and led Hermione to her sleeping quarters.
Hermione's eyes fluttered open and she stretched herself out luxuriously. She had been too tired to take in her surroundings last night, but in the beauty of the pale morning sunlight that broke through the French windows of her bedroom, she was awestruck. Everything was elegant and tastefully decorated. Hermione was tempted to fall back asleep amidst the feather soft pillows and silken sheets, but the events of last night flooded through her mind, causing her to sit up sharply.
…The promise ceremony…
…Marriage…
…Draco Malfoy…
She groaned as she pulled the pale pink and gold silk coverlet over her curls. Maybe if she hibernated for the next few weeks, by the time she woke up this would no longer be an issue? How could she possibly be in a position where she had to get married to that scoundrel? Out of nowhere, McGonagall's words echoed in her head. She bit her lower lip softly, trying to contain her sigh of exasperation. Maybe he had changed, but he was still Malfoy. Pureblood, Slytherin-obsessed, Muggle-born hating Malfoy. The only reason he had been even mildly civil to her last night was because he was such a mummy's boy that he was incapable of having an original thought when she was around. And she had to marry him? Hermione sighed and swung her legs out of the bed. Just as she was wondering what to do regarding her inherent lack of clothes, a subtle knock sounded on the door.
"Come-come in," said Hermione hesitantly, folding her arms over her chest.
"I trust you slept well?" Narcissa swept into the room, making Hermione once again self conscious of her old nightgown and no doubt dishevelled appearance. Without waiting for a response to an obviously irrelevant pleasantry, Narcissa nodded to a house-elf that appeared almost out of nowhere from behind her, carrying what looked like some folded peach silk.
"I was alerted that you do not have access to your belongings right now, and Draco is anxious that you do not leave the Manor before he has had a word with you, so I have taken the liberty of having these robes made up. Rest assured, our dressmaker is excellent, and has charmed this particular set to fit you perfectly once you put them on," said Narcissa, as the house-elf placed the robes next to Hermione.
"Thank you," said Hermione, taken aback at this sort of extravagance, "That is incredibly thoughtful of you to arrange." It wouldn't hurt to get on her future mother-in-law's good side while she could.
"I hope they are to your liking," Narcissa nodded stiffly and swept out just as quickly as she had come. The house-elf pointed Hermione to the direction of the bathrooms that were located behind some panelling in the wall, and bowed out saying that she would be back to escort her to breakfast.
Hermione picked up the silky peach robes and walked over to the bathrooms. They were easily the size of an average bedroom. In the middle of the floor was a perfumed hot tub filled with swirling bubbles. Immediately Hermione soaked her slightly sore body into the warm water, which helpfully automatically adjusted its temperature and fragrance to suit the user. After a luxurious bath she quickly donned the peach robes which shrunk to fit her curves in the most flattering fashion. She shot a few spells at her mass of bushy hair, and tamed them into heavy silken curls that fell halfway down her back. Satisfied with her appearance, Hermione stepped outside, only to be met with the house-elf that had promised to escort her to breakfast, who had clearly been waiting outside, and followed her through the twisting maze of carpeted hallways.
"You look well," said Narcissa pleasantly, as Hermione entered the breakfast room. To her amusement, Draco's head shot up at his mother's comment and he all but gawped. Hermione arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him, causing him to once again have a slight pink hue surround his cheekbones. This game was going to get very addictive very quickly.
"Morning," said Hermione, trying not to grin at the obvious shock Draco was in. She took a seat opposite him, next to Narcissa, who was sitting at the head of the breakfast table. Before anyone could make any awkward small talk, a house-elf entered the chamber with a boy who looked about three years old. Hermione stared at him in puzzlement, as he looked absolutely nothing like the rest of the Malfoys. He had a head of curly bronzed blonde hair and bright brown eyes that were brimming with mischief and happiness. From the obvious quality of the clothes he was wearing he was clearly well off, but surely he wasn't Malfoy's brother?
"Granger, I'd like you to meet Julius Malfoy, my son," said Draco grinning at the boy with the softest expression Hermione had ever seen.
"Wait, you're already married?" asked Hermione looking from Julius to Draco in horror. "Where is his mother?"
"My mummy's dead," supplied Julius helpfully, as he hopped up onto a chair next to Draco, "I hear you're my new mummy, I hope you don't die too!"
"Julius!" Narcissa chided, while Draco and Julius laughed at Hermione's horror-struck expression at being called someone's "new mummy".
"Sorry Juls and I are just kidding around," said Draco giving his son a high five and tousling his curls.
"His mother was k-i-l-l-e-d during the w-a-r," said Narcissa, spelling to keep Julius out of the loop.
"That's awful," said Hermione in undertone, looking over at Julius, who was pre-occupied with his cereal that seemed to flash blinding colours every time a spoon was dipped into the bowl.
"Bit of a pick me up in the mornings, don't you think?" winked Draco, referring to the strobe-light effect that the cereal created in the room. Hermione felt herself blush slightly at his wink.
"Draco hasn't been the same since Juls' mother died," continued Narcissa confidentially, her voice so low that Hermione had to strain to hear her, "I know he seems to be alright on the surface, but deep down it really changed him as a person, and helped him finally properly unlearn all the prejudices Lucius taught him."
"You still love him." Hermione stated.
"Of course, always, but unlike Draco, Lucius didn't see the error of his ways until it was almost too late, and unlike Draco, Lucius didn't have the strength to question what he was taught by his father, and worse, his overbearing grandfather," said Narcissa, her usually stoic expression faltering.
"It must be hard being away from him," murmured Hermione, a small part of her realising the absurdity of having a deep and meaningful with Narcissa Malfoy, while Draco Malfoy and his son filled the room with flashing lights every time they dipped into their cereal.
Hermione found herself trailing behind Draco as they climbed through thickly carpeted stairs to get to Draco's study. She had been burning with questions ever since their ceremony, and finally Draco promised to answer them. She found herself admiring the beautiful room, decked out in rich mahogany and dull gold.
"I expected your study to be green and silver, filled with engraved snakes," said Hermione, examining the intricate engraving of his heavy desk drawers.
"Why? Because I was in Slytherin? If you must know, I'm actually not particularly partial to the colour green," said Draco, looking amused at her assumption, "I like it well enough as a colour, but that doesn't mean I'm surrounded by it constantly." He pulled out a heavy chair for her to sit and sat down on one opposite her. Hermione watched him as he pulled out two intricately engraved crystal shot-glasses and poured Firewhiskey in both of them. He had really nice hands, just the way she liked them. Large and masculine, but well taken care of. He wore no jewellery on his hands except a heavy thumb ring in the shape of an owl on his right hand and the promise ring she had slipped onto his finger the previous night.
"So…?" asked Hermione, expectantly, sipping on her Firewhiskey to Draco's amusement. He downed his drink in a single shot before replying.
"So what? I was expecting you to have questions for me. It would be far easier than me having to explain everything and risk leaving something out."
"Well, for starters, how the hell did you Apparate into my house? How did you know where I live and how did you get past my wards?" asked Hermione, her voice gaining decibels as she progressed.
"For such a smart witch you're surely acting fairly dumb. I apparated into your house -past your precious wards- because Potter changed them to let me in. He was the one that discovered that we were cursed to begin with. He and Weasley ran a raid on some of the houses and found a correspondence between Nott and Avery about someone that had set them both up to punish us."
"Punish us? Together? Who would do that?"
"Well, the correspondence didn't give a name, they referred to him as the Arisen One, but that is not atypical given that several Death Eaters and Slytherins have had nicknames, however this person seemed to have a personal vendetta against me for being a blood traitor. At this point it seems that you were picked by him simply for being part of the Golden Trio," said Draco almost apologetically.
"How the fuck did he put these spells on us?" asked Hermione, frowning.
"We're not exactly sure. Hair is pretty easy to procure, I don't know about you but my hair follicles have not exactly been friendly to me off-late, but getting our blood unnoticed is a bit obscure."
Despite herself Hermione felt a smile. Who knew the ferret had a slight sense of humour?
"So you're basically saying that someone decided the best way to punish you was to hook you up with me?" she said, internally grimacing.
Draco smirked. "Apparently marriage to you is the new form of torture, Granger"
"If you're into that, Malfoy, I'll be more than happy to torture you whenever you want."
Hermione tried to stop herself from smiling as Draco realised he'd been outsmarted. Winning against Draco in their verbal sparring was definitely something she could get used to.
"So, if you didn't already understand from what I said before, Potty and the Weasel know you're safe, and you need to move in to the Manor as soon as possible," said Draco hastily changing the subject after seeing the cat got the cream expression in the Gryffindor's honey-coloured eyes.
"Fine, when do I have to move my stuff by?" asked Hermione, reluctantly. Now that she had seen Julius she knew it was only fair that she move in with Draco and his family. As much as that sucked. She crossed her fingers discreetly and hoped she would not be turned into a snake the second she officially moved in. It was already a miracle her skin hadn't burnt off while she was sleeping in a Malfoy's bed.
"We can have the elves move it for you today itself; you and I will live in adjoining rooms in the East wing until we're married. Julius lives in the West wing with mother. The North wing is filled with rooms for entertaining the guests, like the living room, mother's parlour, the ballroom, spare suites and a few more you don't need to know right now. The South wing is for our use. It has our library, the indoor pools, a green house, some spare suites for family, the kitchens and such. The back gardens next to the South wing are mother's pride and joy and we often take tea there on weekends. You'll learn your way around pretty quickly, and just to speed to process, here-" Draco paused for a breath as he handed Hermione what looked like a folded up piece of black silk.
Hermione opened the rectangle and found a floor plan of the Manor embroidered into the velvety fabric in shimmering silver thread. There were a few crystals scattered in different areas of the map.
Draco leaned forward, his blonde hair falling into his eyes, as he pointed to the crystals on the map. "The sparkly black stone moves to show my mother's whereabouts, the grey stone is mine and as you can see its showing where we're sitting right now, Julius is the sapphire in the West wing. If you ever need to find one of us, all you need to do is locate our stones on the map. Impressive isn't it?"
Hermione looked up at Draco's silver eyes, once again holding back the urge to laugh at his use of the word "sparkly". At the excited look in his eyes as he shared a piece of magic he obviously expected her to be impressed by, she decided not to tell him about the Marauder's Map.
"Quite, how did you get a hold of it?" she asked instead.
"Well, apparently it's a Black family tradition. All the Black family males were taught how to make one so that they would keep their females in check so to speak. My maternal grandparents had no sons, so it was passed on to my mother and my aunts," explained Draco.
Suddenly both Hermione and Draco realised that their faces were only inches apart, and they could feel each others' breaths on their faces. Almost as one, they sprang apart awkwardly.