Thank you to all those who followed and favorited this story, and especially to those who took the time to review! This chapter is quite a bit longer than they usually are, I hope you don't mind... Let me know what you think of it!
The dreaded evening arrived, and it was with a lot of apprehension that Hermione and Draco dressed up for the party. They met in their common room, both looking elegant, and with a terse nod Draco offered her his arm.
"Mrs. Malfoy," he said.
"Mr. Malfoy," she replied. "Here goes nothing."
"Do you think there will be alcohol there?" Draco asked hopefully. "You know, to dull the horribleness?"
"Are you out of your mind?" Hermione hissed. "Need I remind you how catastrophically the last time we drank alcohol while at the same party ended?"
"Well it's not like we can get married again. And I'm not talking about getting absolutely shit-faced, anyway, more like taking of the edge."
"You really shouldn't," she said disapprovingly.
"Would you listen to that," Malfoy said. "You already sound like a nagging wife."
"And you still sound like a foul, loathsome, evil—"
Hermione was interrupted by Blaise who, having heard the conversation, smoothly went to stand between Hermione and Draco, throwing an arm over their shoulders.
"Now, now, none of that now. We have a party to attend, and everything needs to be perfect." He managed to sound patronizing and idiotic at the same time.
"Blaise," Theo said, staring at his friend in shock. "You just sounded like Slughorn."
"What?" Blaise let go of the Malfoys immediately, his entire posture changing. "No I didn't."
"You kind of did, mate," Draco confirmed.
Blaise shot a wide-eyed look at Hermione, who shrugged apologetically.
"Oh my Merlin," Blaise muttered, walking away. "What the fuck is wrong with me? I need to go take a shower."
"No you don't," Pansy said, grabbing his arm. "What you need to do is escort me to that party. Shower all you want afterwards."
"But—" Blaise started to object, but Pansy interrupted him.
"Darling, I just spent hours getting ready for this thing. My feet already hurt, my dress is so tight I can hardly breathe without fearing it'll break, and I'm hungry. Do not piss me off."
Her tone was dangerous enough to shut Blaise up, while Hermione shot her a puzzled look.
"If it hurts so much," she asked, "why do you wear those shoes and that dress?"
"Why, because I look hot, of course," Pansy replied, flipping her hair. "Now let's go."
They headed to the dungeons, where they met up with Harry, Ron and Ginny. They entered Slughorn's rooms all at the same time, and the professor was so elated to see Hermione, Draco and Harry that he didn't even notice Theo's presence.
The room, while still somber, had been decorated with hundreds of tiny lights on the ceiling, reminding Hermione of seeing the stars reflected in the sea. There were a lot of people, most of them not even at Hogwarts anymore, while the less famous Hogwarts studens walked around with plateaus on their arms. When a nervous looking fifth-year student approached them with champagne, Hermione forgot all about her earlier misgivings and grabbed a glass.
Draco met her gaze and raised one eyebrow, so she rolled her eyes at him.
"If you want me to survive the night without appearing highly uncomfortable all the time, you will kindly refrain from commenting," she told him.
"Not a word," he promised, an amused glint in his eyes while he took a glass for himself.
"Draco, Hermione," Slughorn greeted them again, now with a beautiful but slightly scary woman in tow. "Allow me to introduce you to Patty Cartwright, the editor of Witch Weekly. Patty, meet the Malfoys!"
Hermione was staring at Slughorn like he had lost his mind. Was it old age that made him a bit... odd? Surely it wasn't normal for an adult man to be this excited about the marriage of two teenagers he hardly knew?
"It's nice to meet you," Draco said politely, shaking Patty's hand. Upon noticing Hermione's lack of reaction, he elbowed her discreetly.
"Oh, er, yes, very nice to meet you," Hermione said.
"I assure you," Patty replied with a predatory smile. "The pleasure is all mine. You two have been the talk of Magical Britain these past weeks. Tell me, how did a war heroine end up married to a Death Eater? And what the readers are dying to know, Mr. Malfoy, is how your mother reacted? She can't be happy about this, surely."
"I wasn't aware this was an interview," Hermione said, her eyes narrowing.
"And it really isn't any of your f—" Draco started, but Pansy jumped in.
"Mrs. Cartwright, what an honor," she said charmingly. "I'm a big fan. Aren't Draco and Hermione the most handsome couple you have ever seen?"
"Oh hush, Pansy, you'll embarrass them," Blaise said. "Hermione here isn't a big fan of attention. A very modest girl."
"We're hoping that her good influence will lessen Draco's arrogance," Ginny added, linking her arm with the blond as if they were the best of friends.
"But let's not hold our breath," said Theo. "Lest we all die of oxygen deprivation."
Patty noticed Harry, who had reluctantly joined the group with his fiancée, and immediately adressed him. "Mr. Potter, would you say that the wedding between your best friend and your former nemesis has allowed you to put an end to the feud between Gryffindor and Slytherin? You all certainly seem to get along."
Everyone held their breaths and stared at Harry, who cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well... I wouldn't say Malfoy and I are going to be the best of friends anytime soon, but I trust Hermione completely, and if she chose him then I will learn to get along with him. Our friendship is far more important to me than any feud ever could be."
Hermione smiled at Potter in such a sappy manner that it made Draco uncomfortable. He desperately looked for a way to escape this horrible conversation and noticed there were already several couples on the dancefloor. Perfect.
"Let's dance," he told Hermione, grabbing her hand and dragging her away before she could react. He slipped his arm around her easily, thanking his mother for the many years of practice he had, and they started dancing.
"Look up at me," he whispered. "We're supposed to be in love." He dragged her a bit closer for good measure. She appeared annoyed, but smiled broadly anyway. For the show, of course.
"At least you're a good dancer," she said.
"Yes, I suppose it's quite an upgrade from your usual dance partners." Draco shot a meaningful look at Ron, who was dancing unelegantly with Hannah Abbot. Hermione couldn't contain a snort, causing Draco to grin.
"I vaguely remember from our drunken conversation in Vegas that you're not half as nice as you like to pretend to be. Seems I was right."
"Shut up, Malfoy. Ron may not be the best dancer, but he is a good man."
"There it is again, that goody-two-shoes act." Draco leant forward and whispered in her ear: "You can't fool me."
Hermione shuddered at the sensation of his breath on her hair, his smell bringing back memories of their night together. She had done everything in her power to forget about that, to forget that she had sex with Draco Malfoy, but in this exact moment all she could think of was how good he had made her feel that night. Shit.
Draco was facing similar problems; holding her close in his arms, feeling her warmth and touching her skin like this was making him feel... things. His wife might be the most annoying witch he had ever met but there was no denying she was attractive. This wasn't good, he needed a distraction right now. His eyes swept the room, resting on a certain journalist that was observing them with the greatest interest.
"Do you think Cartwright is buying it?" he asked Hermione.
"I sure hope so," she answered. "Is she looking at us now?"
Draco nodded in comfirmation.
"Then do something romantic," she whispered. "Rest your forehead against mine or something, I don't know. I'm—"
He interrupted her with a kiss. There was no way he was going to do anything as sappy as forehead touching, but kissing he could do convincingly. (If a treacherous voice in his head was of the opinion that he had been hoping such an occasion would present itself, that was of course utter and total nonsense).
It was a sweet, short kiss, nothing that would attract attention in public, but it was enough to make Hermione feel just a little dizzy. She leaned into Draco a bit more, something he didn't seem to mind at all as he tightened his grip on her waist.
"That should do the trick," he said.
"I wish you would warn me before you unexpectedly kiss me like that," Hermione grumbled, resting her head against his chest in an attempt to hide her blush.
Malfoy snickered. "Where's the fun in that?"
The song ended then, and Hermione immediately put some distance between them. "I'm going to get a drink," she told him before walking away. She grabbed another glass of champagne before joining Harry and Ginny.
"Hey, 'Mione," Harry said. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she answered. "Just getting really tired. I wish people would leave me alone, my private life shouldn't be any of their business."
Harry smiled wrily. "I know that feeling all too well. I'm kind of grateful you're keeping the spotlight away from me and Ginny."
"It's almost like he's ashamed of me," Ginny said with a grin. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to talk to Neville." With that, she left the two friends alone.
"Really, Hermione, how are you doing with all this? I know we make a lot of jokes, and maybe even act like it's not all that big a deal, but you know I'm here for you, right? If you need to talk or vent, or a horrible accident to befall Malfoy..."
She laughed and hooked her arm through Harry's, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Thank you, Harry. I know I can always count on you. It's just confusing, you know? I don't really know what to think of him, not anymore. Sometimes we actually get along quite well, and then I remember that this is the spoiled brat that tormented me throughout Hogwarts. It's enough to drive me barmy, really. I keep wondering if he actually, genuinely changed or if he's working on something sinister."
"Well, it's Malfoy, so my first instinct would be to believe he's up to something, but then again the War did change us all. Why not him too?"
Hermione nodded pensively. "When did you get so wise?" she teased him.
"I've always been wise, Hermione, you simply took a few years to catch on."
She pinched his arm and he stepped away from her, complaining about both his fiancée and his best friend being violent women.
"What makes you say he has changed, anyway?" Harry then asked.
"He hasn't called me a Mudblood since the day after our wedding, for one, and even then he corrected himself immediately," Hermione said. "He has been reading Shakespeare, although he tries to hide it. He is surprisingly bad at being sneaky for a Slytherin, but I've been humoring him and pretending I don't notice it to make sure he doesn't stop. We work surprisingly well together, and he's even asked me a couple of questions regarding Muggle things!"
"That is shocking, indeed," Harry admitted. "I would have never thought it possible for the two of you to get along, despite your best efforts."
"Oh, I wouldn't say we get along exactly. We bicker about almost everything, it's really annoying."
"Hermione, don't get mad, but you have a bit of a habit of bickering with the people around you even if you like them a lot, so I wouldn't use that as proof that you don't get along."
"What are you talking about? I don't do that!"
"Yes, you kind of do. I'm not saying it's a bad thing, but you kind of really do that. How often did you have screaming rows with Ron? How often did you berate us for not doing or homework? How—"
Hermione interrupted him before he could keep listing all her faults, looking betrayed. "I can't believe you're taking Malfoy's side over mine."
"That's not at all what I'm doing," Harry protested.
Before Hermione could answer, she noticed Patty Cartwright coming their way. "Shit, that woman is coming to interview us again. Dance with me."
Harry obliged, although not very happily, and they swayed on the dancefloor. "If you're going to evade that woman by dancing all night long, your feet are going to hurt a lot," Harry said.
"I don't plan on staying long," Hermione said.
Harry chuckled. "I fear you won't have much of a choice."
When the song ended, they hurried to move to the opposite side of the room from where Patty was, before being intercepted by Theo. "I've been ordered by Pansy to deliver you to your husband, Granger," he said. He grabbed Hermione by the elbow, nudging her towards Draco who was talking to three well-dressed men. When Draco noticed Hermione, he put his hand on the small of her back and introduced her.
"Gentlemen, may I introduce you to my wife, Hermione Malfoy. Hermione, these are some old bussiness associates of my father. They work at the Ministry."
The men inclined their heads in greeting politely, although Hermione got the distinct impression that they were less than impressed with the youngest Malfoy's choice for a wife.
Hermione smiled uncomfortably, unconscously leaning closer to Draco. "Nice to meet you," she offered.
They didn't answer, instead turning back to continue their conversation with Draco. "Do tell me," one of them said. "How is your mother doing? I imagine she's quite distraught what with Lucius being so unjustly imprisoned."
"Unjustly?" Hermione couldn't help but exclaim. Draco's fingers tightened against her back until she was sure he would leave bruises, but what did he expect, really? This was a man who had attempted to kill her when she was only fifteen years old, and all for a stupid prophecy. Lucius Malfoy more than deserved to spend time in Azkaban for the crimes he committed.
The men all stared at her, obviously surprised she dared interrupt them like that.
"My mother is a strong woman, Mr. Shafiq," Draco answered, ignoring Hermione's comment. "She will get through this."
"Of course, of course," the man named Shafiq replied, still looking a bit out of sorts.
"I guess it's a good thing she has a daughter-in-law to dote on, know, isn't it?" the sinister looking man on the left said snidely. It was an insult, and such an obvious one at that that there was no way around it, Draco knew at once. No matter his personal thoughts regarding his wife, she was a Malfoy (for) now and if there was one thing Malfoys were good at, it was protecting their own.
"I do hope, Mr. Warrington, that you meant that last comment differently than it sounded. Because to me it sounded like you were criticizing the latest Malfoy-bride, and I believe you know very well how Malfoys respond to insults."
Hermione looked at Draco with surprise. His entire stance had changed, mimicking the intimidating posture she was so used to see on his father. A quiet fury emanated from him, and even though she wasn't the least bit scared of him she found herself relieved she wasn't on the wrong end of his temper.
Warrington stiffened. Despite the fact that Draco was only half his age and the Malfoy reputation was in shambles, he remembered exactly what the family was capable of and refused to make the mistake of underestimating the boy. "I also thought I knew what the Malfoys' stance on blood-purity was, but that apparently has changed."
"Times change, Warrington," Draco responded coldly. "Anyone with half a brain knows that those who can't adapt die. I can assure you, however, that the one thing that remains unchanged is that Malfoys stick together, and you'd do well to keep that in mind. I believe my father has quite a lot of enlightening documents in his library, and wouldn't it be a shame if some of those were found by the Aurors?"
Warrington paled notably at the threat, and nodded his comprehension. "I'll leave you to your party then, Malfoy. Mrs Malfoy, goodnight." There was no hint of contempt in his voice when he addressed Hermione now, and Draco relaxed infinitesmally. His point was made, and there were still people who respected his last name. Excellent.
Shafiq and Blishwick, the two other men, stared at both him and Hermione with barely concealed interest before excusing themselves and leaving the couple on their own.
"What in Godric's name was that?" Hermione hissed.
"Nothing to concern yourself with," Draco said dismissively.
"Don't patronize me," she said, her fingers digging in his arm. "If you blackmail people because of a slight against me it's very much my concern."
"Look, we may not have wanted to get married, but regardless of that you are a Malfoy now, which means that I will protect you and your reputation."
She looked offended. "I think I've proved I'm perfectly able to take care of —"
"I'm aware you can fight, Granger. But you don't know the ways of the pure-blooded witches and wizards, so just let me deal with them, will you? I'm not talking about any kind of physical attacks, but if they thought for one second they could get away with it I can guarantee you that they would have started a campaign to destroy your reputation."
"I don't give a damn about my reputation," Hermione responded, grinning when she thought about the Muggle song she just quoted.
"What the fuck are you smiling about?" Draco asked, now even more convinced she was crazy.
"You wouldn't understand," said she. "It's a Muggle thing."
He frowned at her tone, but focused back on the important part of their conversation. "Whether you like it or not, you're a Malfoy now, Hermione. You have little choice but to care about how you are perceived, because the eyes of everyone will be on you for quite some years."
She met his gaze with a slightly mocking curve to her lips, defiant and slightly condescending at the same time. "I find life to be considerably easier when I only take into account the opinions of people I value, Draco. I refuse to alter anything about myself because someone I hardly know complained about this or that. You might enjoy it if you tried to apply this philosophy, you know. It takes away so much pressure!"
And for the first time Draco Malfoy became aware of something he never would have thought possible before: Hermione Granger genuinely looked down on pure-blood notions that he had always thought were undeniably impressive and right. She had never hesitated in telling him and his family off, before, but he had always assumed that it was because she was bitter because she herself had not been lucky enough to be born in one of the good families. He realized now that she did not look at him with envy and jealousy, but that she honestly believed being a Muggle-born was not something bad, not a burden she'd have to carry around for the rest of her life. He was confused, a bit frightened, a thousands thoughts rampaging through his head and destroying more of the foundations he had grown up with.
"Granger," he suddenly asked, the urgency in his tone making her look up with interest. "If you had the chance to be born in a pure-blood family, would you have taken it?"
She stiffled her instinctual angry response. The look on his face was not derisive or angry, instead he appeared bewildered more than anything else. She recalled their conversation at Grimmauld Place, and hoped that this was a continuation of Draco questioning what he had always been taught.
She wanted to answer that of course she didn't want that, that she was proud of being who she was, but she figured that if he truly was on a quest for answers she owed him more honesty than that.
"I'm not entirely sure what you mean," she admitted. "Do you mean would I have preferred my parents to be pure-bloods, or being born in a different family altogether?"
"Whichever," he answered agitatedly.
"I dearly love my parents, and wouldn't want them to be anyone else, that's for sure. I think my life would have been a lot easier had I known about the existence of magic from the beginning," she then admitted. "It was difficult to grow up and have all these strange incidents happen around me without being able to explain them. My parents thought they were going crazy, sometimes. So I guess that if they had both been magical too, I'd have encountered far less problems growing up. That being said, I'm glad I got the chance to experience both worlds. There are so many things that Muggles did that most wizards know nothing about, and I think that's a shame. Not to mention that Muggles stand far more progressively on several issues, and I'm relieved to have been raised in an environment that encouraged me to be who I am and think for myself. So no, I would never choose to be born a pure-blood, regardless of the advantages, but I do think that Muggle-borns and their parents would benefit from being told about who they are and what they can do at a far younger age."
She frowned pensively, considering that. "That's actually a very interesting proposal," she said, almost to herself. "I should discuss it with Kingsley. Not to mention Hogwarts ought to offer classes specifically for Muggle-borns, to help them adapt better."
Draco was staring at her intently, trying to absorb what she was telling him. If it had been anyone else telling him this, he would have thought them to be lying. But the honesty in Hermione's gaze left no doubt as to the veracity of her words, and just how the fuck was that possible?
"You're surprised," she said, noting his expression.
"I am," he admitted.
"You always thought everyone wanted to be pure-blood like you, didn't you?" she asked with a little smile. "There are advantages and disadvantages to every situation. I don't think one is inherently better than the other, it just depends on what you make of it."
"How typically Gryffindor," he said with a sneer, but Hermione could tell his heart wasn't in it.
"Do you think we've been here long enough?" she asked, hoping his discomfort would work in her favor. "Surely no one will be surprised that two young newly-weds prefer their privacy."
He nodded absentmindedly. "Let's escape before Pansy finds us."
Hermione took his hand and intertwined her fingers with his, already used to the casual little touches that had felt so odd at first. She led the way, allowing Draco to mull over what she had said, and soon enough they had escaped the dungeons and were heading to their own rooms.
Draco only noticed that Hermione was still holding his hand on the second floor, even though they were no witnesses around, and a strange warm feeling nestled itself in his chest. He almost let go of her, because this was Hermione Granger, but it was as if he had suddenly forgotten how to move his fingers.
So he refrained from mentioning it, pretending he didn't notice even though it was the only thing he could think about.
Hermione realized that she was still gripping Draco's hand when they arrived in their common room and she released him quickly. Draco observed the blush coloring her cheeks and found it oddly charming. They had been sharing a bed for the past week, they had acted like an enamoured couple every time they were in public, they'd had sex already for fuck's sake, and yet here she was, obviously flustered because they'd held hands for a bit longer than expected.
She looked up at him shyly, worrying her lip with her teeth, and his gaze dropped down to her mouth. Not for the first time, he wondered what it would feel like to kiss her without the excuse of alcohol or keeping up the pretense. Would he hate himself for it, later? Would she push him away? Would it lead to a repeat of their wedding night?
He closed his eyes and blew air out of his nose, forcing his thoughts back to less dangerous roads. He fully blamed Blaise for this. His so-called friend had taken it upon himself to remind Draco that the marriage-contract he so stupidly signed included a fidelity-clause, which meant that neither of them would be capable of straying (he never thought he would hate magic, but hey, there's a first time for everything). To put it simply, if Hermione and him did not have sex again, the following five years would be interminable.
He had refused to consider this yet, refused to consider the fact that they were well and truly stuck together for five years, and he suspected Hermione was doing the exact same thing. It was easier to keep thinking one day at a time than to really acknowledge the extent to which their one night of stupidity would impact their lives.
But ever since that conversation he'd found himself trying to remember exactly how she felt and tasted, wondering if her reactions would be different when sober, imagining how it would be if at least one part of their marriage was real.
Stupid Blaise.
"I'm going to bed," Hermione told him then, and he almost groaned.
"I'm going to take a shower first," he said. And a very cold one at that.
When he got back to their room, Hermione was already sleeping. He assumed the alcohol had something to do with that, as normally she had a tendency to move around in bed for far too long, a habit that made him want to smother her with a pillow. Cautiously, he slipped in beside her, hoping he'd surrender to sleep as easily as she had. He was shocked to stillness however when Granger moved in her sleep and cuddled up to him. She grabbed his arm and held it tightly, using his shoulder as her pillow, and he could feel her breasts under her pyjamas and her breath in his neck and Merlin this woman had horrible timing.
"Granger," he muttered, trying to shake her off his arm. She moaned in protest and the sound went straight to his groin.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He ran his free hand through his hair, praying to gods he didn't believe in to help him survive the night. Gently, he extricated his arm from her grip. Unfortunately, this did not have the desired effect, as Hermione merely moved a little further and rested her head on his chest.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me," he mumbled. His arm hovered over Hermione, unsure of where to let it rest. He tried to move once again, but she held him tightly, and, well, the feeling wasn't altogether unpleasant. It shouldn't surprise him that Granger was a cuddler; he had noticed she tended to be rather touchy feely with her friends. Hesitantly, he placed his arm around her shoulders and tried to relax. She hummed contentedly and snuggled up even closer, and Draco couldn't help but chuckle quietly. For all her aloofness and her obvious dislike of him when she was awake, her unconscious self did not appear to share the same notions.
He listened to her even breaths and before long they had lulled him to sleep, still holding on to her.