Chapter 7 Can't Buy Me Love[The Beatles]

In his study, Tuesday before they began their studies, Draco gave Hermione a long, thin wooden box, containing an enchanted quill. "I really do apologize."

"Draco, I accepted your apology," she replied as she looked at the golden quill. "This is too much. I can't accept this."

"You have to," he said refusing to take it back as she handed it to him. "How else do I make it up to you?"

"That very brave episode in the dining hall was a start. Actions not expensive gifts: that's how you make up for it." She smiled at him. "Face it, Draco. The world will see that you're not evil."

"I like my reputation just the way it is."

Impulsively, they both laughed. "By the way, I just wanted to let you know that with Mickey, I can't tell you what's going on but it's nothing bad or that would hurt me. I made a promise which I intend to keep."

"Like a pure-blood giving their word," he deduced.

"Exactly," she replied. "I'm keeping my word of honor."

"You know I was surprised to hear that you were in New York over the summer." His comment confused her. "From the grapevine, I thought you would be marrying Weasley. What happened?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," she mumbled.

"I won't tell anyone. You have my word."

"It's not that. I don't think you would understand." When she saw Draco confused look, she wondered if he realized that she meant he didn't have any compassion.

"Try me," he said. "I thought we were making strides."

"We are but you're not very……never mind."

"You're right, us Malfoys aren't known for that are we?" Why should I try to change? When she wasn't looking, he snuck the present in her bag. Now, he accepted the fact that they were strictly lab partners with a thinly veiled guise of friendship since she didn't trust him.

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That Thursday, after their next study session, they adjourned for a supper of sweet apple pork and potatoes. As Hermione sipped her tea and gathered her courage to query about pure-blood traditions. "Since we're friends, can I ask you a question regarding something Mickey told me, but you have to promise not to get offended?"

He relished the idea of proving Mickey wrong about anything. "Ask away."

"Is is true that traditional pure-blood families have arranged marriages?"

"Sort of," he replied astonished at the unexpected question. "We have choices. There are arrangements made for several different matches." From her shocked reaction, she thought polygamy. "We choose one out of those matches. So, it's not a true arranged marriage since we have choices, more of an encouraged one."

"So your parents had an encouraged marriage." He nodded. In a sardonic tone, she asked, "Do you have an upcoming encouraged marriage?"

"Yes, I do." He recalled the only match he hadn't turned down yet. "She's Italian. That's why I spent so many summers in Rome. Father kept the family's options open."

"That's barbaric," she stated in an acid tone. "I would never marry anyone I didn't love."

"As if it matters," he countered. How dare she criticize his traditions, when she herself would probably marry that lying oaf, Mickey, who didn't appreciate her or some other idiot. "Encouraged marriages rarely end in divorce, unlike others."

"No, they just go on endless holiday," she said viciously. Everyone knew that Narcissa had been in Madrid for awhile now.

"My parents are not getting a divorce! How dare you even imply that! My mother is busy with other family matters!" With a loud clap, he slammed his chair into the table and left hastily. "Now if you'll excuse me. See you Tuesday," he yelled behind him.

He changed and went to his gym in the basement. As bare knuckles met burlap, he heard very meekly behind him, "Draco." He ignored her. "I'm sorry for what I said. That was awful and uncalled for."

"It's true. My mother is on endless holiday, contemplating divorce." He threw a hard left jab. "I can't blame her." Now he threw a right punch. "She doesn't want to see me either." The bag threw a right cross at him which he blocked. "She writes me once a week but never visits. We were once close."

"She's going through a difficult time. She still loves you but you look so much like your father, that she probably feels guilty when she sees you." She ducked between him and the punching bag. "Your parents love you very much." She looked at him with such concern. "I'm sorry that your father's in Azkaban." She hugged him. "It must be difficult for you but he loves you."

Draco closed his eyes. "My father never loved me. He's never showed me any affection at all." As he shuddered, she hugged him even tighter. "All I am to him is an heir to carry on the family name. My entire life has been devoted to him and his ideals." Slowly, he pulled her firmly against him. "Many times, it tore me up." He took a languished breath. "Everything I do disappoints him."

She tilted her head up. "I'm sure you're not a disappointment."

"During school, I tried to be the best student but only came in second." Looking down at her, the top student, he rolled his eyes. "I tried to be the best Quidditch seeker but came in second to Potter." After a half-hearted laugh, he remembered the greatest disappointment for his father. "To be Death Eater extraordinaire, but I couldn't murder. At the same time, I'm not a hero nor do I care to be a saint like Potter." After a deep breath, he stared at the floor. "My father was disappointed at his weak and ordinary son, as usual."

"You are not weak nor ordinary," she assured him. "Not wanting to murder is not being weak." She smiled at him. "Be proud Draco. There's good in you."

"Don't insult me," he joked.

"So you were the second best student overall and the second best seeker, do you know what that means?" She looked at Draco's slouching frame. "It means that you were the most well rounded student. You should be proud."

"Never thought of it like that," he remarked standing taller. "Thank you for listening." He butterfly kissed her forehead. She looked up at him quizzically. "It's a traditional pure-blood friendship kiss. You can confirm it with Mickey, I'm sure."

"But I'm not a pure-blood," she countered.

"It doesn't matter to me anymore," he replied, startling himself with that truth. "You're a very tender person. I'm not used to all this…hugging." Tilting her head up, she looked appalled at his statement. "It's ….oddly… comforting."

"I'm glad."

Draco watched her brow furrow, a look familiar to him. "You have another question."

"So what's the future Mrs. Draco Malfoy like?"

"A beautiful olive skinned Italian witch my age who is extremely perceptive and will try to wrap me around her wand," he responded with a chuckle.

"Do you love her?"

"I'm not really sure." Draco sat on the gym bench where she joined him. "Over a year ago, she had an affair with this wizard which lasted several months. I heard about it after the fact and was quite upset ….so it could be love. Maybe it was jealousy, maybe not. I'll soon find out."

"If …if you don't love her,…will you marry her?"

Dejectedly, he nodded. "Yes, it would be better that way."

"How can you say such a thing?" With her voice taking a shrill note, Hermione almost gasped the words.

"All I want in a wife is an attraction and a great fondness." Once he said that, Hermione shook her head in horror. "I don't want love because it only brings pain." Again, Hermione just looked at him like he was a monster. "Even though my parents had an encouraged marriage, they loved each other very deeply. My father's actions tore my mother apart. Because she loved him so much, she stayed with him."

"I'm sure they'll get back together."

"They won't be. After the battle, not long after we restored the manor, my mother stopped wearing her wedding ring. Every time my father's name was mentioned, I saw the pain in her eyes." Disconsolately, Draco shook his head. "I want nothing to do with a love so strong that I couldn't live without that person." Forcefully, he punched the bag again. "However, I think I love Bianca but I hope not that much."

"I'm not sure what to say to that."

"There's nothing to say." Not much more was said that night before she left.