Chapter Sixteen
The folds of silk were soft on Hermione's skin, smooth like water; Layer upon layer cascaded down to the floor, fringing at the edges. The very material was sensual, it seemed: Something a woman would wear to please the fingers of her lover.
"Oh! It's perfect!" Dora exclaimed.
Hermione gazed into the mirrors stationed around the platform for her own benefit – it certainly was a beautiful dress, yet she had never been more unhappy in her entire life.
The image reflected in every mirror was one of serene beauty, but she saw none of that. There was something severely wrong with the girl that met her eyes… her smile was too forced, or her finger twitched every so often. And was that a crack in her chest, a visible scar of the broken heart underneath?
"Do you like it, miss?" the store associate prompted. "It certainly looks beautiful on you: I don't think I've seen anyone pull off this style with as much grace as yourself."
"It DOES suit you, darling," Dora agreed.
The Hermione in the mirror nodded; Her lips parted to agree with the two women. Her eyes were hollow, unseeing – she did not even notice her measurements being taken, nor the hem being noted.
They had discovered her. But how? Draco had assured her they were safe: Safe in Scotland, beyond Antonine's Wall…
Hermione remembered every detail of the moment Lucius Malfoy had appeared in the camp.
He hadn't even been angry; It was as though he had accepted the fact that they'd run away a long time ago… and everything following that realization was just fun – it had been the hunt and now it was over. Predator wins.
The sun had just set, though the sky was still tinged with the memory of it; A bloody red piercing the horizon, throwing the orange of the day's remnants into relief.
Lucius had put a body-binding curse on his own son first, before turning on Hermione. The whole thing was so utterly unexpected; A bird had twittered, peaceful and out-of-place, just before they were whisked away. An eager Dora was breathlessly waiting for her granddaughter back home.
It seemed like their discovery had been mere hours ago – things were happing in seconds instead of minutes – but in reality, it had been two whole days.
But oh, what two days they had been!
Wedding preparations were taking place faster than Hermione could keep up with. Flowers were being ordered from Barbados, the satin and lace had to come from France… and the guests were from all over the world! Hermione was positive she didn't know HALF of the people her grandmother had invited.
She would have loved to say to Dora: "If YOU are so excited, why don't YOU marry Draco fucking Malfoy and LEAVE ME OUT OF IT!"
But that wasn't reality… in reality, Hermione merely said: "Yes, the ivory is nicer."
She didn't care, anymore. She had tried and she had failed and that was the end of it all. There was no time for herself either, ever since Jalena and George had been given shifts to watch her. It was kind of like babysitting, really.
"I don't suppose you have a preference as to whether the guests will have the option of choosing their dinner beforehand or not, Miss Granger?" one of the wedding planners prompted. Hermione had forgotten the girl's name days ago.
She shook her head no and rearranged herself so that she had a proper view of the grounds. The sun was shining in the big French windows and something glittering caught Hermione's eye, down by her hand.
She swallowed hard when she realized the thing was ON her hand.
The ring: The vile, disgusting symbol of a mockery of love. The diamonds glittered gaily as they always did, proud to be such a disgrace. The longer Hermione stared at the contemptible thing, the more she despised it; She felt like it was growing tighter – as if determined to prove the pressure she was under to marry her childhood enemy.
Really, the more she thought about the predicament, the more ridiculous it became. She sought out her grandmother.
"Hermione, darling, I have something for you," Dora enticed, steering her toward a box encrusted with, what appeared to be Swarovsky crystals.
The box contained a pearl necklace, wrapped around into three layers, each hanging longer than the previous. It was simple, but it commanded attention.
"It was your mother's when she got married… and mine when I married Harfang. Goblin-made too, so you know it's of exquisite quality."
Her mother's…
Hermione reached out a hand to touch the necklace: Her mother had once worn this necklace. It had touched her skin on the day she had said her beloved "I do's". What a beautiful day that must have been.
Such contrast to Hermione's own wedding.
"Will you wear it, my dear? It would be lovely with your dress," Dora continued, clearly unaware of what a big thing she was offering her granddaughter.
Hermione lifted the necklace out of the box; Dora helped her clasp it on before presenting her granddaughter with a hand mirror.
Yes, Hermione thought, Mum will be with me that day, after all. I can do this, now. She will be there, and I am her daughter.
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Draco Malfoy was not angry. To say he was angry would have been the biggest understatement of the century. Draco Malfoy was not irate either, for this too, would have been a massive understatement.
No. Draco Malfoy was PISSED, fueled by the demons of Hell itself.
"I'm telling you, it wasn't me," Blaise persisted.
"Like fuck it wasn't," Draco snarled, pinning his companion against a tree.
"Listen Malfoy, I don't know who sold you out, but you can bet it wasn't me," Blaise hissed, still on the offensive even though he had a wand at his neck. "I never even knew where you were in the first place… all you said was 'north'."
Draco pondered this for a moment; Blaise Zabini was a tricky character, but he also tended to be very loyal. On the other hand, he had a slick tongue – had he been a goose, he could have talked foxes out of devouring him.
Draco lowered his wand, still fuming but in a much less directed way. Blaise massaged his neck before taking a good look around.
"So this is where she lives, huh?" he snorted, "Who would've thought: Granger a pureblood…"
Draco remained silent, his fist clenching and unclenching.
Blaise peered at him, "You still want me to be your best man, right?"
Draco slowly nodded, but remained silent.
Blaise frowned, "When was the appointment?"
His companion only grunted.
Blaise's frown deepened, "Well, whenever the hell it was, we're probably late. Shouldn't we go inside?"
"I don't want to see HER."
"Who? Your mother?"
"No… HER."
"Granger? Why?"
Draco clenched his teeth in a grimace, "I can't stand to LOOK at her."
Blaise snorted, "Well you'd better get used to it, considering you're marrying her in less than a week."
Silence.
"Have you noticed my father lately?" Draco asked abruptly.
"No, why? What's wrong with him?"
"He's… HAPPY."
Blaise considered this carefully, as it was common knowledge that Lucius Malfoy had never been happy in his entire life – or so it seemed, anyway. "Well, what are you going to do about it?"
"Do?" Draco rounded on his companion. "What do you mean, Zabini?" he demanded.
"Well, you're going to find out what's getting him in such a good mood, right? I mean, the way your life tends to work, if Lucius is pleased and you're already miserable, you're about to go through some hefty shit. Remember last time?"
Draco shuddered inadvertently, his gaze flickering to his forearm. Though it was barely visible anymore, the Dark Mark stung for a split second, as if to remind him that it was always going to be there, as a symbol of the terrible things he had done in his life.
"I wouldn't know where to start," Draco sighed, thinking again about his father. The less he thought about the Dark Mark, the less he would feel like vermin.
"Don't you think it's an odd match: You and Granger?" Blaise pondered. "Who suggested it in the first place?"
"I don't fucking know, Zabini!"
"Alright, alright – I'll drop it. Are you ready to go inside? Your Mum is going to have a heart attack, considering how late we probably are…"
The boys reluctantly headed inside, both silent; To an outsider, it would seem they were preparing for a funeral rather than a wedding.
Even though Draco had entreated Blaise to stop talking about the odd coupling choice his father had made, the topic certainly had not left his mind. He knew his father had made the suggestion: But why? What was so special about Hermione Granger? She was a goody-two-shoes Gryffindor smarty-pants, and he… well, he was your average educated, pureblood, Slytherin male, former Death Eater. What was the attraction to pairing them?
Draco could understand Dora's point of view; The woman had never known about his Death Eater days and probably never would, if Lucius had his way. Dora would consider the match an advantageous marriage – of course she would agree!
He kept coming back to the same question that had been railing his mind long before Blaise suggested it: Why on Earth would Lucius DO this? It wasn't as if he was trying to make amends for the family name by marrying off his only son to a Gryffindor goody-goody.
There had to be some ulterior motive – and with his father, that could only be a bad thing. There was more to this than trying to continue the Malfoy family line...
Blaise was right: If he was going to remain sane, he was going to have to find out what was really going on - and fast.
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Author's Note: Yay for reviewers: AerintheWhiteKnight, Readerforlife, GoodCharlotte615, RIPJameSiriusLupinTrueMarauder, TheGreatAmericanNightmare, rosi4ka1706, Hermione0323, brooklynsam3, and sureynot. Thanks a ton for your time in letting me know your thoughts!
You know... this chapter is a turning point, and I'll tell you why. I have a blank Microsoft Word Document and no ideas. But after everything I've just written, I have reached a fork in the road: I can either make this a story with a happy ending, or a severely tragic one. What do you think? Or should I write both and have alternate endings?