Hi all. I know it has been forever. Forgive me.
I guess I got caught up in life.
I truly wanted to thank all of you who have added me to their favorite's list and have taken the time to review this story even after it has been so long since I have updated. This chapter is for all of you.
As a side note, my spell check has not been working, so I have done my best to proof read this story. If I have failed in some parts, forgive me.
Thanks once more!
-Bubblemilktea
Chapter
"The girl is too old," exclaimed Narcassia Malfoy she, her husband and her son sat in the parlor. Lucius Malfoy sat in a chair by the fireplace as he smoked a cigar, the lighting dim with cascades of orange and red from the fire place, the room saturated with smoke. Lady Malfoy stood looking out the window as Draco sat on the love seat facing the fire. "She has too much to learn for a girl her age."
Hermione had retired to her chambers soon after their meal. She knew what they wished to discuss. They wished to discuss her.
The Malfoys had been pleasant enough. They said nothing of her clothes, nothing of her heritage or her past, but they also spoke nothing of the present. She knew their confusion. She was a mudblood turned pureblood. She knew that in their eyes she was not pure. She knew nothing of their world. She was not of good society. Thus, she knew that the Malfoys were rather perplexed as to what to do with her. They were to be her guardians and guides in this world of purebloods, but it was difficult to care for a ward they knew so little about, someone who in their eyes was an outsider.
Thus, when it was polite enough to dismiss herself, she did so with the utmost speed.
She wanted to hear nothing of the conversation which would ensue.
"She learns quickly though," Draco replied. "Everything you saw today she has learned in the matter of a month, perhaps only a few days. We haven't had the opportunity to meet frequently."
"Learning is not her problem right now," Lucius Malfoy interjected breaking his silence. "She has no standing in our society outside of our own. She lacks the authority that comes with one's years." He paused and shared a look with his wife. "They will not respect her."
There was a contemplative silence as the members of the Malfoy family thought of their current situation.
"We are faced with two problems then. She is too old to learn our customs as efficiently as she would have at a younger age. She has no experience playing our games, being a part of our world. At the same time, she is too young. The older generation will not respect her for her name alone. She is at a disadvantage then. To gain that advantage, she will need not only know our laws, our rules, but she will have to excel and outdo them all at their own game." Narcassia Malfoy announced. She looked at her men. "We will begin immediately tomorrow."
Hermione awoke the next morning with sunshine streaming through the large French doors of her new residence. She knew where she slept. She slept within the highest ranking purebloods of English society, if not European society. The Malfoys showed every inch of their wealth in her very room. The bed itself was massive with piles of silk in rich gold and ivory surrounding her. She gazed at the gauzy canopy above her. The room was gorgeous. She could tell the embroidery of her silks was done in gold and silver thread of the finest quality and the pearls which adorned her covers were real. Then again, she expected nothing less of the Malfoys.
She slowly made her way out of bed to look further around her room. Last night, Hermione had been too tired, if not physically then emotionally, to properly look around. Besides, the room radiated differently in sunlight than in moonlight. Before, it shimmered in shades of pale silver. Now, it sparkled brilliantly from the sun beams which entered her room.
Vast dressers and wardrobes spanned one wall and in another section of her room sat a small sitting area in which she could attend to intimate guests. There was a love seat and another matching high back chair next to it with a fire close by and vast windows with the sheerest of silk drapes.
She looked in one of the wardrobes to find it empty save for one gown; her belongings were not to be found. It didn't surprise her. She didn't expect to keep them. They were no longer of her world.
She made her way to the bathroom to find a huge circular marble tub fit to swim in. There was a glass shower in one corner and a vast vanity on the other. She quickly got ready by washing up and donning the dress robes she was expected to wear.
The dress robes were nothing extraordinary, but she felt the difference from her old robes. They were cut differently. They were made of higher quality material. They were simply not for your everyday witch.
She stood before her door, contemplating what could be outside. She knew very well that within her room it was her domain and that the Malfoys would not bother her unless necessary. Outside, however, was a different matter. Thus, she stood before the door, rather awkwardly, hand partially outstretched to reach for the door.
She slowly gathered her courage and turned the knob. The hall was dim compared to the brilliant radiance of her rather sunny room. This is not to say it was gloomy, rather, unlike the warmth of her room there was something darker. She felt the power of the ancient house surround her; a loss of innocence which her newly furnished room held.
She made her way down the hall, trying to recall how she arrived at her room. She remembered the small house elf named Daisy who had led her there last night. The house elf had explained that the Malfoys had given Hermione her the north wing of the mansion on the third floor and told her about what a great honor that was. Apparently the north wing had the best view of the grounds and had the most sunlight. Besides that, as one went higher in the mansion, they were more respected, so that a person residing on the first floor was beneath those residing on the second and so on. Daisy explained that the Mistress and Master lived on the East wing of the third floor and that the Little Master Malfoy lived in the West.
She looked around her in the hall and saw paintings lining the walls. What surprised her was that not all the paintings were of magical origin. She saw paintings of the Renaissance, the Impressionists. She saw Monet and Rubin along with magical painters acclaimed for their lifelike representation of the world.
"Angelus,"
Hermione paused and turned to see Mrs. Malfoy down the hall quite a ways, her eyes downcast and her upper body bent into a small bow. Her mind began to race. She tried to remember her lessons as she returned the bow. When she saw satisfaction in Narcassia Malfoy's eyes, she knew she had made the right move.
She waited as Narcassia Malfoy made her way to her. "I am happy to see your robes fit. I could only guess at your size Angelus."
"Thank you for your kindness," Hermione replied with the expected answer. She waited to see what more Narcassia Malfoy had to say before speaking. She didn't want to give more information than necessary about herself.
Narcassia showed no sign of approval for Hermione's behavior save for the slight look of joy in her eyes. "Angelus, may I only hope to serve," she replied appropriately. After a pause she continued. "I meant to seek you out, Angelus, in hopes that we may go shopping."
"Shopping?" Hermione asked puzzled, reverting back to her former self. For the first time since Narcassia Malfoy had spoken to her, she was thrown off. She wanted to go shopping?
Narcassia couldn't help but smile. "Yes Angelus. I had hoped to go shopping with you so that you had a proper wardrobe in which to present yourself to our society."
Hermione understood. She was, in the most muggle terms, going to get a make over.
"When do we leave?" she asked.
"I hope to leave not long after breakfast, if that is agreeable to you Angelus," she replied with a small nod of her head to show her respect. It created a distance and established roles. She was not to be her new mother, but rather a guide in this new world.
Hermione gave a small sigh. "Please, call me Hermione," she whispered quietly so that anyone less aware of their surroundings would have missed it. The name Angelus held with it so much power. She still winced inwardly whenever she heard it.
There was a pause. Both stood still, a few steps away from one another. Hermione could feel the shift in Narcassia's mood from joyful to somber. It made her nervous.
"While I may take the liberty to address my lady by her first name in the future, I shall refrain from doing so now," Narcassia finally explained and paused once more. "It is my wish to help the Angelus to realize her position in our society and the power she wields."
Hermione understood. This was Narcassia Malfoy's way of training her. With Narcassia Malofy every conversation was a lesson, a test to her skills. This was her way of telling Hermione that she was above Narcassia in both rank and power. It would not do, at least for now, for Narcassia to call Hermione by her first name.
They spoke no more as they made their way to breakfast. Together they walked quietly to the dining hall. When they arrived there was a small table with a meal spread out for two. It meant that she and Mrs. Malfoy would be sharing a meal together. She knew she would not see Draco or Lucius Malfoy today.
She felt empty without her gaudian's presence. She was not lost, for that would imply that she could not determine her position, determine up from down in this pureblood world. No, she was not lost, but empty. Draco was the only person who remained constant in both of her lives. He existed when she was Hermione Granger as the arrogant, stuck up pureblood who would call her names for being muggle born. Now, he existed still existed as Draco Malofy, the prick, even while he was her guardian and protector. She felt empty without that familiarity, that someone to ground her in this new identity. Despite their opinions of one another, Draco was the one who led her to this home. She felt as though he should be addressing her needs and that he should be the one to be constantly with her to ground her to this new world.
Thus, she ate her meal in relative silence as she contemplated her thoughts. She was rather sure Narcassia Malofy was doing at the other side of their small table.
After breakfast, they did not adorn cloaks and travel through the floo. They did not wander through the streets of wizarding Britain or apparate to some unknown location. No, instead Narcassia Malfoy led them to the Parlor where upon entrance, a dozen or more wizards and witches stood.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for your arrival. May I introduce to you our Angelus."
Each one of the wizards and witches bowed with deep formality to her. Hermione could do nothing but stand in shock. She knew these were designers for brands she had heard of before. Hermès, Yves Saint Laurent, Gucci, Christian Dior. Each came to her, one by one, taking her hand, introducing themselves and what they would be designing for her. Each looked at her with respect and, more importantly, love. To them she was hope. She was their Princess, their lady.
"Angelus, I am Bailey. I shall be designing your clothing accessories. It is such an honor."
"Angelus, I am Stella. I shall be designing your dress robes. I am honored to serve you."
Each one came up to her and there was sincerity in each one of their voices that she was touched. "Thank you," she said after they all returned to their places. "Thank you very much for being here today."
With introductions out of the way, they moved her to a platform in the middle of the room.
"Now Angelus, we must get your measurements. It would be preferable if you were to stand in your undergarments. We are all professionals and this is our job, but should this be disagreeable to you we will allow Madame Malfoy to take your measurements and then relay that information to us," the one named Stella explained.
She paused and looked at those before her. She knew that they wanted nothing more than to serve, so she complied and began to undress.
Each one of the designers took their measurements to adjust for the fit of their clothing style. She had designers making everything for her, from the typical dress robes, to formal robes, to casual robes, to undergarments and stockings. Each had their function and each began to sketch as she stood in nothing but her underwear and bra on a platform in front of them. After they were done with their sketches and measurements, she dressed and sat down at the head of a group of chairs.
One by one they came to present their ideas to her. She found herself deeply interested in the subjects of each conversation, while at the same time realizing that she had to be fair to all and not show favoritism.
"Angelus, you are still so young and fresh. It is my desire to create for you casual clothing which will present you in both good taste and yet push the limits of what is deemed proper. I realize that my inspiration comes much from the muggle world, but if that does not offend my lady, I wish to design a line for you."
On the papers presented in front of her were robes she had never even dreamed or heard of. None of the robes were full length. They were all colors of blue and while being one pieces, were spaghetti strapped or were cut short to allow for high socks or leggings.
Another designer approached her with her design. "I swear to you Angelus that if you let me design this line for you I will not make these outfits for any other. It is my fondest wish to design for you, Angelus, a line for you inspired by the sigma of your great house."
He presented her with drawings of robes in which her crest was incorporated to make everything from dress robes to casual robes and even night wear and under garments. It was all rather breathtaking and dazzling to her, someone who until now had never bought a designer robe in her life.
The morning passed by in much of this fashion and it was not until the lunch bell that the designers were dismissed to work on their assignments. They left with assurances that the lines would be done in the following month.
Hermione, while excited throughout the whole ordeal, was relived when they left. She was already exhausted with dealing with so many people. The whole time she felt as though she were sitting on pins and needles where one word would greatly offend someone and send her down to a certain, and rather painful, death.
She thought she could finally breathe when she caught Narcassia's eye. She knew then that she would have to do this all day.
"It's difficult, Angelus. All the more difficult because you were not born into wealth, prestige. You are not of this world of children born with silver spoons in their mouths. You have not grown up with everyone watching your every movement, your every breath. Thus, what to us is comfort and ease will be to you a noose. The faster you accommodate to our ways the safer you shall be," Narcassia replied.
Hermione couldn't help but see the truth in that. She was no longer in a world where her actions were her own to judge and dictate her life. She was no longer a part of the crowd. She was now in the spotlight, gone from spectator to the highlight of the show. She had to preform her part perfectly to receive an encore from the crowd.
Thus after a light meal of soup and sandwiches, the two moved into the ballroom.
"This is where we shall hold all our lessons Angelus," Narcassia Malofy explained. "Here we shall learn everything from the standard etiquette to the mind games that we purebloods play. I shall teach you rules and secrets that your mother would have taught you had you been raised in a pureblood family. These you shall learn in less time than a six year old." Their eyes met and the rest was understood. "You have little time for mistakes."
After a small pause, she spoke once more. "Today we shall begin with the etiquette one must hold around women."
"Among women, one must always know her place, otherwise you will be quick to make enemies and there is a slim chance to make friends," Narcassia explained. "As a general rule, those of older years have seniority. Those who have born many sons also move up in rank. The lowest female is one who is unmarried and past marital age."
She paused to look at Hermione.
"You, my Angelus, are an exception. While young and unmarried you weld great power and status. You must tread carefully. You must respect your elders, but make them bow down to your will. You must look down upon those beneath you, but you must not walk on them as to bring their anger against you. You walk a fine line Angelus, and it is you who will determine your place and power within our society. Always know that," Narcassia exclaimed at the finish of her speech. She paused to see if the gravity of her statement had reached its mark. Hermione slowly nodded. It had.
"Let us begin."
Hermione was exhausted. Actually, she was past exhausted. She thought the first day was hard. The next day was not easier, nor the next, nor the next. Each day she woke up tired, feeling as though she had not gotten enough sleep. It was not a physical exhaustion. No, it was mental exhaustion. She felt like her mind had run a marathon. Each day she was expected to keep track of all the details presented to her. Each day she was expected to perform spectacularly.
She recalled earlier that day during their lesson she had fumbled on her memorization of a poem. She had said "sadness" instead of "loneliness." It was a small error. It did not seem that much different to her if the poem read "sadness is the lone flower which weeps" instead of "loneliness is the sad flower which weeps."
"Angelus. It is 'loneliness is the sad flower which weeps upon the windowsill of greatness.'" Narcassia cut in. "Start once more from the beginning," she demanded.
Hermione made the mistake of letting out a small groan. Narcassia's eyes flashed dangerously. "What is the matter Angelus? Does a poem seem to be a waste of your time?"
Hermione said nothing in both fear and exhaustion: she simply didn't have the strength to argue. Besides, she had no rebuttal. She knew it was not a waste of her time, rather, it was her survival kit in this new world where words were not mere sounds, but weapons of choice.
"You will learn Angelus that words cut just as sharp and deep as knives. There is a saying among the ancient lines. 'Men commit murder with wands. Women kill with the spoken word.' A poem is a woman's weapon. A single line can slice her opponent's argument or build her own. It is your responsibility, Angelus, to memorize the 100 poems in the Book of Values and utilize them to their full extent," Narcassia lectured.
Hermione could only comply and start once again from the beginning.
It wasn't that she thought it was a waste of her time. It was simply too much. Not too much to learn, but too much to change. She felt herself changing all too quickly. Soon, there would be nothing left of Hermione Granger. She will become a shadow of the past, a fleeting memory of what she once was. All too quickly, she was becoming Hermione Angelus, a pureblood woman of significant social standing within the pureblood society. A small part of her wanted to cry.
She wanted to hold onto Hermione Granger and never let it go. She wanted to be who she was, what she had always been. She wanted to be safe. She wanted her life back.
Instead, she was being transformed into someone new, someone she didn't know. She was being transformed into someone of incredible power and rank who wielded that power to make others bend to her will. It was so different from the meek Hermione of the past who would follow the decisions of her friends and support their endeavors with her intellect.
She was stuck in a place in between, with one foot in each world. She was unwilling, scared to embrace one and sad to leave the other. Quite like adolescence when one thought about it.
She didn't know if she'd like who she was going to become. She would lose friends and make enemies. She would have the whole wizarding society in Great Britain out for her head, perhaps even the world.
Another part of her though, realized that this was who she had to become. There was no turning back now. She could not throw away her responsibility. She was Angelus and Angelus she would become.
On top of those thoughts, a small part of her, a very small part, wished Draco was with her.
She had seen very little of the Malfoy heir once she had arrived at the Manor. The only time she caught a glimpse of him was at dinner. She had breakfast and lunch separately with Madame Malfoy. Even at dinner, he sat engaged, talking to his father and paying little attention to her. She might as well been a light fixture for that's how little attention he paid her. Thus, she could only guess at how he was spending his days at the Manor. To her it was all a mystery.
That's why it came as a surprise when there was a knock at her door.
She looked up to find Draco Malofy standing the doorway with it wide open to show he had allowed himself in. He stood with a rather amused look on his face, as though he were unsure of what to make of the scene before him.
"Mother out did herself this time," he exclaimed to no one in particular as he scanned her room. Apparently, he had never seen her quarters. Either that or he had become quite the actor.
"What do you want Malfoy?" she asked her fatigue forgotten. Malfoy supplied the energy she needed in the form of irritation and anger while providing, at the same time, curiosity. She was rather interested as to why he had come. It was unlike him to simply stop by, particularly given the time of day. Hermione had been about to turn in for the night, even getting into bed when Malfoy invited himself in.
"I came to ask if you wanted to go shopping," he explained casually. "Mother is busy tomorrow and she thought it would be a good opportunity to do some last minute Christmas shopping." He paused and gave her a look. "Besides, Merlin knows you need a break Granger. You look half dead right now."
She looked surprised. She had completely forgotten about Christmas. In the past, it would have been an impossible feat. The few weeks before the holidays at Hogwarts were filled with holiday spirit as the Great Hall was decked in festive colors and random sprigs of mistletoe hung from rather convenient places. Everyone was buzzing with excitement and usually she would be too. She would have done her Christmas shopping before going on break to get the magical items for her friends and then later go Christmas shopping for her mother and father. Now, however, the thought of Christmas had never crossed her mind. The excitement which had touched her for the past seventeen years of her life failed to touch her now.
Thus, she sat contemplating the fact that Christmas did not excite her and did not reply to Draco. They sat in silence as Draco assessed their surroundings and realized that talking to Granger would do no good.
"How is it?" he finally asked when he became bored looking at the cream colored wall paper. When she didn't answer he said, "Come on Granger. I'm not going to bite."
She gave him a curious look and he returned the same one in return. Finally, she gave him a reply.
"It's not difficult. Just a lot to absorb," she remarked. While she was far from alone, her company being mostly Narcassia Malfoy, she was in lack of companionship, an equal to talk to. Thus, while Malfoy was not her ideal person to talk to, he was indeed a student of the same grade and age as her and likewise, an equal to talk to.
"I heard you're doing well," he remarked casually as she looked up at him in surprise. He guessed at her thoughts. "Mother is not one to openly praise, but her lack of degrading comments is uplifting."
So much for companionship. She gave him a rather dirty look. "What do you want Malfoy?" she asked once more. "I suggest if you're bored to go pick on someone else. I'm sure they'd be far more interesting," she exclaimed. Determined not to allow him to disturb her peace, she laid back down in her plush bed and pulled the covers up as though she didn't care if he was there or not: she was going to sleep.
Thus, she was surprised when she felt the covers pulled from her body. She gasped and sat up her bed only to glare at Malfoy.
"I'm trying to be nice Granger," he replied coldly, the light tone gone from his voice.
"I don't need nice from you Malfoy," she replied back with the same edge. She was furious that he had disturbed her in her room of all places. It was her only sanctuary in this God forsaken place. "I need sleep."
He glared at her as she once again grabbed for her covers.
He didn't know what to make of this girl in front of him. At times, he wanted nothing more than to kill her with his own bare hands, the rather crude muggle way. He couldn't stand her. She brought anger out of him and made him lose control of his emotions. He couldn't manipulate her like other girls, and because of that he was inexplicably attracted to her.
It was curiosity. He wanted to figure her out. He cared nothing about what she liked or disliked. He cared nothing about her past or her present. He cared nothing about her moods or her feelings, but he cared about how she affected him and why.
He wanted to know why she made him angry like no one had before. He wanted to know why he was so god damn protective of her. He wanted to know why she made his perfectly built mask slip in front of her. He wanted to know what it was about her that made him care.
Before Granger women, were split into two categories: his mother and everyone else. His mother cared and coddled him since he could remember. Other mothers were just like his mother and looked out for their young. Everyone else were objects, toys for his amusement.
Take Pansy for example. Since he could remember she had hung on his every word and action. She was there when she was needed and there even when she wasn't needed. She bent to his will along with every other girl in his house. The other girls bent to his will and became clay in his hands. He could make or break their hearts, play with their emotions and use them as he wished. They were objects, toys to be played with and used to his advantage.
Granger was obviously not a toy. She was a girl. She was the Angelus, his ward.
Thus, Draco Malfoy found himself in a predicament. Hermione Granger was the first girl he could not make bend to his will. Instead, he was forced to bend to hers due to their relationship to one another and Draco Malfoy did not like that one bit.
Thus, he gained control of the opposite sex in the only way he knew how: sexually.
Hermione laid, unaware of the happenings within Draco Malfoy's brain, confused. She had expected him to get angry. His lack of anger made her uneasy as she hid under her covers. Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore and surfaced to a sight she wasn't expecting.
Draco Malfoy was towering above her. She let out a little squeak when he placed his hand to the right of her face on the bed next to it. He leaned in and the atmosphere in the room suddenly became very heavy. Hermione found it difficult to breathe. She avoided Malfoy's eyes for fear of what she would find in them.
Her back was currently pinned to the bed. She was all too aware of its firmness as she tried her hardest to get as far away from Malfoy who was leaning over her.
"You think your so smart Granger," Draco remarked with a quiet chuckle."Well, you don't seem too smart right now."
Hermione didn't reply. She didn't know how to reply, both in actions and in words.
All she knew was that she felt uncomfortable as hell.
They stayed like that for what seemed to be ages. Both were unaware of the passage of time, only the ticking of the small charm clock hanging on Hermione's wall told of the passing time. Hermione looked away and Draco looked forward. She tried desperately to stare at something other than the man in front of her. Thus, she ended up counting the lines in the ivory wall paper. It was near impossible.
Finally, she let out a breath when Malfoy moved an inch away, and slowly, that inch became two and then three until finally he was an arm's length way.
"I expect to see you tomorrow at 10'o clock in the parlor. We leave then," Draco explained smoothly. Hermione couldn't help but shiver. She had sat up once he had moved half a room away.
He gave her one last look, a rather smug look, and finally left, allowing Hermione back her sanctuary. She allowed herself to breathe as she unceremoniously flopped onto her back. Breathe, she thought. It took all of her energy to focus on the in and out motion of her lungs. When she finally regained control over her lungs, she pulled the covers up and, with the wave of her wand, turned off the lights.
She forced herself to forget what just happened and to not think about it. She told herself that it was not worth her time. Thus, she thought of something that made sense to tidy up her rather dazed mind. She considered Christmas, or more specifically, her shopping list.
Two names popped into her head: Harry and Ron. In the past, she would always get their presents first. They were always at the top of her list. Now she wondered, if perhaps they were on her list at all. It seemed inappropriate. Her anger towards them had long since left her. To be honest, had the Angelus affair not happened, she would have apologized long ago. Well, perhaps not so easily. Her pride had been wounded due to her childish anger which is what led her to dual them. Perhaps not the smartest move of her life. Now, however, their fight seemed petty compared the the other issues in her life. Besides, they were bound to become enemies. Perhaps it was best to leave things be as Malfoy had suggested.
She set the thought aside as she turned in for the night. Presents could wait until tomorrow.
Hermione met Draco in the Parlor at 10 o'clock sharp. That morning she had woken up and had a quiet breakfast with Narcassia. They had a brief lesson afterwards on social functions before Narcassia had to go to a morning tea party at the Parkinson's.
"I have attended only the more important affairs as of late," Narcassia explained. "If I do not show my face at this one people will begin to talk. Besides, I'm sure word has gotten out about your staying here. It's a wonder I haven't received more invitations from the gossips."
Narcassia instructed her to wear one of her better dress robes, saying that it would be unsightly to appear in anything less than the best with a Malfoy on her arm. She paused and gave Hermione a rather Malfoy smirk. One she must have inherited from her husband, Hermione thought. Thus, she wore a set of pale, sky blue dress robes cut just above her knees and hung off her shoulder. Along with her robes, she wore a rich white cloak with white fur lining over that and her sky blue muffler as instructed by the designer. This one had apparently been forwarded early as a preview of her upcoming line.
Malfoy arrived five minutes later. He entered the parlor in his travel cloak thick with fur lining. She thought it must be rather heavy, but didn't mention it. She rather thought they looked quite the couple. At least, Lucius thought so. He passed by them on the way to his study. He stopped, gave them one look over, a curt nod, and continued on his way.
Draco finally caught her eye and gave her one look. "Are you ready?"
She nodded. He held out his hand to her and she realized she was to grasp it. After a moment's hesitance she finally did and they apparated.
Diagon Alley was busier than ever. People of all sorts were bustling about to do some last minute Christmas shopping. She saw wizards and witches bundled up, young and old, moving from shop to shop to make their final purchases. Despite the cold, shop doors were flung wide open due to the constant ebb and flow of people in and out of the shops.
Hermione found that they themselves were headed, not to join the crowds of people, but that they were headed for Grigotts, the Wizarding Bank of England.
When they arrived she saw that the place was relatively quieter than the bustling of outside, not due to the lack of people, but rather, the atmosphere. Here, people were doing business, serious affairs, unlike the gay laughter and happiness that accompanied the holiday season and Christmas shopping in particular. Inside, goblins were running around with their customers in tow. She saw the elevators wizzing around and there was a dull roar from the sound of people talking.
"Ah, Master Malfoy," a goblin announced as he approached them. "What my I do for you today?" he asked after taking a minute to bow. He was a rather short goblin, as they all were. Though, he looked more accustomed to human mannerisms due to his tidied up appearance as opposed to the underlings who ran around in whatever clothing it was that goblins wore.
"I would like to request your most private conference room. I have important matters to discuss today," Draco replied in a casual tone, but one would be stupid to miss the seriousness of his tone.
The goblin's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "A private conference you say?" There was a heavy pause full of wheels turning and calculation before the goblin spoke once more. "May I be so bold as to inquire the reason?"
Malfoy looked at him and with a delicate pause said, "I will discuss matters with you once we are in the proper location to do so."
They had bit of a staring contest. It was a battle of authority, power and will. Finally an agreement was reached. "Of course. Of course. Please, follow me." The goblin paused and gave a look at Hermione. "Is the young lady to come with us?"
"Yes. She is to follow," he replied casually looking back at Hermione as though she were an after thought.
Hermione just nodded and followed behind the two who looked to be discussing casual matters such as the weather and the holiday season, the previous atmosphere lost, but by no means forgotten. They had begun their dance of business and affairs.
The further and further they went, the quieter it became. Soon, all she could hear was the trickling of water through pipes and the echos of their footsteps. The goblin named Tuk led them through various corridors which seemed to get narrower and narrower, winding down like a slithering snake. She felt the lighting become dim and it felt to her as though they were going further and further underground to the very belly of the earth itself.
Finally they arrived at a massive door. It was ten times taller than they were and gilded in gold. Perhaps the door itself was gold. Hermione couldn't tell. However, it was extravagant. Each panel, ten in all, had different inlays so that figures were popping out or receding in. She was awed by the depictions in the door and wondered what story they told.
"They are the Doors of History Lady," Tuk explained as though he knew her question. Hermione looked up in surprise at the goblin. "For centuries we have added to it. It is one of our great treasures. Not many outsiders are lucky enough to see it."
She could only imagine with what greed the goblins hid this door from the public eye. It was a treasure indeed.
The massive doors opened to a great hall. Inside she saw a table which spanned from one end of the room to the next. It looked as though it could seat 500 people. Upon the walls were further depictions of what she guessed to be goblin history. It reminded her very much of Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel in Rome. Perhaps he was a wizard himself, inspired by the depiction of Goblin history. She made a mental note to look up more on him once she was back at the Manor. It did not occur to her that she was beginning to think of it as her home.
As they were led to the head of the table, she noted that there were goblins seated at the other end. No heads were raised at their arrival though and none of their conversation could be heard. She could only assume they were having a meeting of their own private matters.
"Now master Malfoy, what is it that you wish to discuss?" Tuk asked as they sat down. The had danced around the matter long enough. Now it was time to get down to business.
"I wish to inquire about Vault 225," Malfoy explained loudly so that all in the room could hear.
The conversation at the other end of the table came to a halt. They stopped to stare at Malfoy with eyes first of shock, then of suspicion.
Even Tuk hesitated before he spoke, having chosen his words carefully.
"Vault 225 is very special to us, you must understand Master Malfoy. Even we goblins do not speak lightly of it. What is it that you wish to discuss?" the goblin asked again as the others moved closer to listen in.
Malfoy paid them no heed. "I wish to take some funds out of vault 225."
There was a shocked whisper as a crowd began to gather. Hermione looked up to see that the gallery above the table was beginning to fill with goblins. Apparently, word got out fast. She could see their whispers, their looks of shock and scandal.
"Forgive us, but we goblins hold Vault 225 very highly. We will not allow just anyone, even a Malfoy to access the vaults," the goblin explained gravely.
"I understand. That is why I have brought with me the Angelus," Malfoy explained casually.
Once again suprise and shock ran through the crowd. The Angelus? The last Angelus to have arrived was Marcus and that was years ago. It had nearly been two decades. How could this be? They asked one another. Marcus was dead and Lillian had passed away soon after.
The goblin began to understand before anyone else and looked at Hermione for the first time.
"Lady, I never did get your name. May I ask what it is?" he asked politely. The whispered quieted down as they too came to the same realization and looked at her with curious eyes.
She looked at him and was surprised to find warmth in his eyes. He looked at her with kindness and a friendly sort of affection. It was so different from the cold eyes he had previously looked at Malfoy with, those accusing eyes frigid at the thought of losing money and something more.
"Hermione," she replied still rather lost at the significance of her name.
"Ah, Hermione," the goblin repeated. "What of your father's name?"
"Marcus," she replied pronouncing the name for the first time on her own tongue. "Marcus Angelus."
Another round of gasps and whispers.
"May I first give my condolences at your loss," he said. "Your father was dear to us as is your family Angelus. Whereas The Families have the house-elves to do their bidding, your great house has forever been our masters," the goblin explained. He pointed to the far wall. "See for yourself Angelus. Your family has been blessed and honored in our history. The crest of your family is the only human crest to grace the walls of this magnificent chamber."
Indeed, Hermione did look and at the far end of the hall was her family's crest.
"However, one must inquire as to why Master Malfoy is speaking on your behalf," the goblin asked his eyes cold once more.
"I am her guardian as Lillian was before I," Malfoy explained.
The goblin contemplated this information for a moment as though he was asking himself a question. During this moment, his eyes flew around the room, matching glances with those of authority. Finally he spoke. "We would like proof of your loyalty. If you are truly the guardian of our Angelus you will bear her crest."
Draco looked surprised for the first time since their arrival. Hermione looked at him surprised as well. She was not aware that he bore her crest. She knew only of the necklace he kept hidden beneath his robes. The one she happened across that fateful night.
He began to undo the clasp of his outer robes. To her, it felt rather ceremonious. After taking off his outer robe he stood in a white button up-shirt and a pair of black slacks. Slowly, one by one, he undid the buttons of his shirt, starting with the cuffs and moving to the chest. When he removed it he turned to show the crest on his lower back. There, blazed in white, was the Angelus crest.
There were gasps and Hermione couldn't help but gasp as well. She marveled at the crest upon his flesh. He was truly her guardian, bound by flesh and blood to protect her at the cost of his own life.
"Very well, thank you Master Malfoy," the goblin bowed. "We thank you for your service to our Angelus." He then turned to Hermione and spoke. "Angelus, while we do not doubt your sincerity we too must ask that you show us evidence of your blood."
Hermione understood. They wanted to see her crest as well. She too took off her cloak. Then, as modestly as she could, she lifted up her skirt to show the Angelus crest which resided on her thigh.
"Thank you Angelus."
"Our family has kept the Angelus Vault Key safe. I present it to you now as a token," Malfoy replied after he finished redressing. He took out a silver key from a hidden pocket within his robes.
The goblin accepted it and then with two hands held it out to Hermione.
"Angelus, this is rightfully yours. May you be pleased,"
She accepted it with two hands also and together they bowed in respect towards one another.
For the first time Malfoy addressed her. "You now have access to your family's fortune. If you wish to withdraw money from it, now would be the time to do so."
She nodded. "May I see the vault?"
"Of course Angelus," he replied.
Thus, together they rose and made their way to the Angelus vault.
There was no elevator to get there. They went deeper into the earth and Hermione knew this was where the vaults of the ancient families began. She suspected that the Malfoy vault was among these as well.
At the very end of the corridor was a large silver door and upon it was the Angelus crest. The goblin looked at Hermione. "You must place the key within the hole Angelus. Only those with Angelus blood may open it."
She nodded and approached the door. She placed the key and heard a small click as she turned it. The door soon transformed and began to open into a massive pathway.
Inside she gasped. There was not only jewelry and gold, but stacks of tomes and parchment of all kind.
"Your family has long been passionate about learning. They value books as much as they value gold. You will find many priceless tomes within this collection. May you use them well," the goblin explained.
Hermione nodded and took with her a small bag of gallons. She knew it would be more than enough for her purposes today and beyond.
They exited and she extracted the key from the now closed doors.
"We ask that you keep this transaction private. The world does not know of the Angelus' return. We wish to keep it that way. You understand the danger she would be in if it were otherwise." Malfoy explained.
The goblin nodded. "The transactions which take place in the Angelus vaults have always been kept private. Much like you Master Malfoy, we goblins place the Angelus at the highest. While they have their limits on what they may order us to do, we will not harm them. Your secret is safe with us." He turned to address Hermione. "May you be well Angelus."
"Thank you" she replied with a sincere smile. She had just met this little goblin and she was already charmed by his fierce loyalty and determination.
With that they parted ways and once more they were out in the blistering cold of Diagon Alley.
Hermione almost expected Malfoy to take off on his own leaving her to fend for herself. When she saw that he did not, she looked at him rather surprised.
"It would not do to leave the Angelus unguarded," he whispered as he made an intimate move to adjust her muffler. "I will follow you."
She understood. There were ears everywhere. They must keep up appearances that they were an innocent couple doing their last minute holiday shopping. "I know very little of high end shopping. Perhaps you could show me." She made sure to look up coyly at him.
He smirked, amused. "Very well. Allow me to lead the way."
Together, arm in arm, they looked every inch the perfect couple. Draco would whisper things in her ear, and she would giggle quietly as though they were sharing a secret. The image they presented, however, couldn't have been further away from the truth.
"You're enjoying this too much Granger. I know that any woman would die to spend the afternoon Christmas shopping with me, but really, must you hold onto my arm so?" he teased. There was little anger in his voice, just amusement.
"Don't flatter yourself Malfoy," Hermione replied slightly irritated at his provoking her, but not enough to set her off in a bad mood. "It is you who said we should keep up appearances."
She let out a giggle. He couldn't help but roll his eyes as he put his face into her hair.
"You're having too much fun," he replied once again.
"Perhaps you're not having enough," she replied and shot him a glance.
He met hers and saw a challenge.
Together they stood in the ciel bleu square of the high end fashion boutiques. The who's who of the wizarding world shopped there in Britain were they not in Paris, France or off in Italy. Together they stood on that bright winter morning amongst people in rich silks doing their last minute shopping. Next to them was the coeur tranquille water fountain that never froze despite the brisk weather and within the sunlight glinted off the brightly colored scales of the rainbow fish.
Together their eyes met in challenge. Hand in hand they stood facing one another.
"Is that so?" Malfoy asked taking a step towards her.
Hermione was no coward. While she saw the foolishness of her words, she would not back down. "Yes," she whispered quietly to no one in particular.
To each other there was only the person in front of them and the challenge that person presented. Neither knew the image they were creating nor the looks passerbys were giving them along with whispers of "Isn't that Narcassia's boy?"
To them there was only they, us. While they held no love for each other, their egos, their wills and their stubbornness would not permit them to back down from the challenge before them, despite the embarrassment and frustration they would feel later.
They knew what was to come, what was demanded for their egos to be satisfied. They knew what was to come for them to rise up to the challenge.
That's why when they kissed neither protested. It was already demanded.
Malfoy made the first move. He moved closer to her, one arm prepared to wrap tightly around her waist and the other raised to move behind her head.
Hermione moved second, ready to fling her arms around his neck for support. They were putting on a show after all. It would not do to make it undramatic.
They met in the middle. Cold lips upon cold lips. One lick of warmth upon Hermione's cold lower lip opened what was once closed and their tongues intertwined in perfect harmony.
The occasional passerby had to stop and glance at the couple, only to look away with a slight blush upon their cheek not from the cold, for their passion was so evident.
Together they held one another, eyes closed, mouths open, oblivious to the world around them only to know they had triumphed. They had tasted victory. They were not cowards.
It was then, and only then in horror did they realize what they were doing and slowly backed away.
Their mouths closed. Their arms slowly moved away from the other. It took effort, for they were so tightly wound upon one another. Draco's hand had found it's way into Hermione's hair as had Hermione's hand found its way into Draco's hair. They came down from their bliss of triumph to the cold reality.
Hermione Granger, now Hermione Angelus and Draco Malfoy had kissed.
Well, they weren't about to say anything to one another.