Hello everyone. Happy Holidays!
I had hoped to get this chapter out for Christmas, but real life happened and I was unable to do so.
However, I was able to keep my promise to have a new chapter out by the end of the month!
I'm so happy! Just in time for the New Year!
Thank you for all of those reading so far. I am horrible with replying to reviews, I've decided. I reply to the first few, but then lose track of where I left off because I have no record. If there is a record on fanfiction that I could use, please let me know! I will try really hard to write though!
I need to clarify something too. It has come to my attention that this fanfiction is A/U.
(Then again, once Hermione became a pureblood it became AU, haha)
I realized this because up until HBP it is canon. However, I began writing this before DH, so I realize that I should pretend DH never existed. It makes the most sense because I want to come up with an original way to kill the Dark Lord. I'm still working on it. I'll let you know how much of HBP I include as well.
Someone also mentioned that the Notts and Parkinsons are purebloods too. I am aware of this, however, think of the Ancient Families as an "Elite" group within the Purebloods, kind of like royalty.
P.S. I still imagine Blaise as the sexy Italian blond God everyone speculated him to be. However, imagine him as will.
Sorry for the long message! There were many things I needed to explain.
This chapter is the longest one yet, and I worked very hard on it!
Thank you for all the reviews!
I never imagined this fiction would ever see anything over 100!
This is for you guys! Happy New Year!
Chapter
Christmas morning found Hermione sitting rather blankly in her room. She sat in front of her fireplace on one of the matching high back chairs. There was a small Christmas tree next to the hearth decorated with twinkling lights and glass balls of white crystal. It had been there for the last week. She had returned to her chambers one day, only to find it adorning one corner of her modest sitting room. Today, however, unlike other days, presents awaited her underneath.
She sat in one of the high backed chairs with a cup of warm hot chocolate that the house elf, Daisy, had brought. While she normally had tea or even coffee in the morning, this morning called for hot chocolate. It reminded her of memories she would describe as warm, if one could label memories with such an adjective. It conjured up images of past Christmas mornings spent as a child. She would wake up to find a cup of hot chocolate awaiting her on the coffee table in the living room. As she awaited the arrival of her father, her mother already being awake, she would sip it before the opening of presents began, wondering what were inside. This morning though did not hold the same feeling of excitement. She sipped on the hot chocolate in apprehension as she stared at the presents under the tree. She could not bring herself to open them. She didn't know where to begin. So she simply sat, and waited, and hoped that they would somehow magically open on their own by the time she finished drinking her chocolate.
It took her an hour and twenty four minutes before she finally sat down to open the first box. She looked at the name: Mum.
She had told her parents that she would be staying at school for the holidays. It was easy enough to convince them that she wanted to study for her NEWTS. They wanted what was best for their daughter, and while they expressed their regret at being unable to spend the holidays together, they respected her decision.
Hermione had bought her parents' presents that day they went to Diagon Alley. Even while there was increasing evidence that she would soon part from them, she could not bring herself to act a complete stranger. They had raised her. They may have very well brought her into this world. It was her father, Nathaniel Granger who taught her to first ride a bike, and it was her mother, Margret Granger who bought her her first novel. They taught her the values she held today and made her into a moral, upstanding citizen of muggle society.
It was such a large part of her life. They had been a part of her life, were a part of her life, a large part. She couldn't just throw that away. Still, she did not know how they fit in her present life.
For her mother, she had bought an innocent looking novel of fairy tales. A muggle born wizard had taken the time to explain the wizarding origins of many muggle fairy tales. It had surprised Hermione that many of the fairy tales she had read as a child were indeed actually historical fact in the wizarding world. For her father, she had bought various sweets from the Diagon Alley division of Honeydukes Sweetshop. Even while her father was a dentist, he had a wicked sweet tooth. She knew her mother would disapprove, but her father would get a kick out of wizarding sweets.
She once again regarded the object in front of her. The box sat innocently enough, but it stared back at her like a neon sign. Slowly, she picked it up and began to open it. She delicately handled the muggle tape which held the paper together, in contrast to the other boxes which had minor sticking charms on them. With the wave of her wand, she could have unwrapped her mother's present, but muggle tape called for muggle methods. It was a rather small box and did not take long to open. When she opened the small box, she gasped. Inside was a necklace. It was a small tear drop pendent of dark blue sapphire on a simple tarnished silver chain. She knew, even before she opened the note the meaning behind such a gift.
Hermione,
Merry Christmas love. I hope you manage to enjoy your holidays even while you are busy studying for your NEWTS. This necklace was your grandmother's. She gave it to me, and now I am giving it to you. I know you will keep it safe. Your father and I send our love.
Mum
She found tears in her eyes. She had never expected this. It was such a sharp reminder of her past. These last few weeks she had begun to believe she was a pureblood, had always been a pureblood. She began to believe she was not of the muggle world. No, her muggle past felt like a lie and the world she sat in now was the truth. She realized now, that she was wrong. While it was true that she was no longer of that world, it did not mean that it was no longer a part of her. She realized that her muggle life was just as much a part of her as her new life now. It defined who she was, something she should never forget. While she was till unsure of the details, she knew it was her muggle heritage that made her different from all the other purebloods.
Most of all, it was her muggle heritage which made her realize that her new position in life should be used to do as she would have done before: to protect her loved ones. Her power games would be played, not for ambition, but for love.
It was due to both gratefulness and sadness that tears rolled down her cheeks.
That's how Draco found her, sitting in her room, crying. His mother was worried when Hermione did not show up for breakfast that morning. When she ran into Draco, she thought it appropriate that he check up on her. He tried to push it off, telling his mother that if she was so curious, she should check up on the girl. His mother simply replied, "She's your ward." Well, there was nothing he could say to that.
He knocked on her door, once, twice. When there was no response, he paused for a moment before opening it. He looked around and saw her sitting by the fire. A small box sat in her lap and she was obviously crying.
Something about that broken look on her face spoke to him. It moved him and he found himself by her side, hand outstretched, as though to reach her. Still, he hesitated, sense finally reaching him. His pride would not allow him to reach out to her. It would show his vulnerability to her tears. So he stood still, unable to move away or towards her. It was only after moments of silence, his presence still unrecognized, that he moved away and sat in the chair next to her. It was his movement which finally alerted Hermione of his presence. She looked over at him startled. Immediately, she took her hands from her lap to wipe her tears and compose herself. "Why are you here?" she asked as she continued to dab at her eyes.
"Mother was worried," he replied in a voice which did not betray his inner concern.
There was a quiet silence. Neither spoke a word. The only sounds were from the crackling of the fire.
"It's from my mother," she finally announced. "My muggle mother."
He said nothing, but lifted his gaze to meet hers. Perhaps she could see his concern. He tried his best to look indifferent. Maybe he was succeeding. No matter. She continued. "It's a necklace. She said it was my grandmother's."
There was nothing he could say to her, nor did she expect him to say anything. He would never understand the feeling of discovering your whole life was some sort of lie. Perhaps lie is too strong of a word. Dream, Hermione's life until now had been a dream, and now she finally awoke to a bleak reality.
"What are you going to do with it?" He asked. It seemed the only question appropriate at the moment. He supposed he already knew the answer.
"Keep it, I suppose." Hermione replied. "Even if they are of my past, my past is what makes me who I am now. I can not forget that. To them, I will be forever grateful."
She finally looked up at him and gave him a weak smile. He met her gaze and turned away, unable to face both the sadness and bittersweet happiness in her eyes.
"Perhaps you should open the other gifts," he said as he began to examine the floor beneath the tree.
She nodded, mostly to herself, and got up to sit in front of the tree. Draco remained in his seat, grateful for the distance between them, even if she was but a few steps away.
Hermione picked up the next box: Dad. She did not hesitate this time as she opened it. It contained a book on the basics of chemistry and biology. The note attached mentioned his belief that she might still be interested in the muggle high school curriculum and, as a joke, that magic was not the answer for everything. She smiled despite herself. Her father, well, her muggle father was so thoughtful.
She grabbed the next one and looked at it in surprise.
"Professor Snape?" she exclaimed, turning her head to look at Draco.
Draco looked at her without catching her gaze. "Of course. It is only appropriate. He knows who you are. He must pay his respects. I imagine next year this time you will have many more extravagant gifts than this."
Hermione understood. This would be, perhaps, her last innocent Christmas. In the future, Christmas would be a game where families would try to gain favor through their gifts and her reception of them would make bold statements. After a little hesitation, she took her wand and muttered a spell to unwrap the present.
The rest of the morning was conducted in such a manner. She had received various gifts from various people. More notably, from Professor Snape, she had received an old tome on the historic origins of modern potions. The note attached suggested it had been his own. From Blaise she received the most outlandish sets of matching undergarments with a rather gorgeous gown. She had opened them in shock and then laughter at the look on Draco's face. The note mentioned his hope for Draco's presence when she opened her gift and the desire to witness the priceless look which was surely gracing his face.
From the Malfoy household, she had received, much to her surprise, an owl. While she had been opening her presents in Draco's presence, the cage, owl, and a note magically appeared in her bedroom. The note had read,
Angelus,
It had come to our knowledge that you were not in ownership of your own owl. While this gift is humble, I hope nonetheless you are pleased with it. It is a pure Asio otus, long-eared owl. It comes from a respectable genealogy of ancestors who were personal deliverers for Merlin and Salthezar Slytherin. We hope you are pleased with your gift. Merry Christmas.
The Malfoys
She found herself very pleased with the gift. The owl was adorable and quickly grew on her. Draco too seemed rather surprised as he took time to inspect the owl. A bloody finger later, he cursed the bird and Hermione set it straight.
"He is my ward," she said seriously to the owl. "You are to respect him as you would me."
Perhaps it seemed ridiculous to speak to an owl as such, but she supposed that if he were of such linage, he was not without intelligence. The bird seemed to understand as he gave a small hoot and looked as ashamed as an owl could look ashamed.
"So what you going to name the bloody bird?" Draco scowled as he quickly healed his injured finger. He looked at the owl scandalized.
Hermione looked contemplative.
"I think I'll name him Ophanim" she finally announced.
He shrugged casually to her as he continued to glare at the bird. "It's your bird."
It was of note that she had not received anything from Harry or Ron. Then again, she had not expected to. She hadn't gotten them anything either, not out of spite, but rather, she was unsure of how to approach the topic of Harry and Ron.
A part of her deeply wanted to mend the growing rift between them. They were her friends, but circumstance had changed. She had changed, and she was unsure what would happen after the truth came out. So, due to fear of rejection, she stood still, unable to approach them in fear of rejection, but in pain because she longed for their friendship.
Perhaps it was herself that was furthering this divide by standing still, unable to move one way or the other. In part, she knew this to be true, but when she was crossing such a fine line between risk and safety, she found she could not take that great leap into further uncertainty.
She told herself it didn't matter, and that she had more immediate concerns, such as the upcoming ball. However, a small part of her would still not agree.
She had spent the entire afternoon with Narcissa Malfoy. The had gone over the basics of social etiquette. Over and over again she was drilled on the social hierarchy of the pureblood linage and the positions of each of the guests at the ball. She was drilled on the history of their family five generations back and the current standings of each family and each member.
In addition, she was taught the art of spoken word, verbal and non-verbal, in continuation of her previous studies. One could say she was pushed onto an accelerated course.
It drained her, but she felt no fatigue. Bluntly put, this was war and the ball was the upcoming battle. Thus, it was either kill or be killed.
Once again, bluntly put, she would rather make it out alive.
Therefore, she choose to kill.
It was the night before the ball, and Hermione found she couldn't sleep. She was nervous. Nothing had prepared her for the terror she faced at the prospect of failure. Never again would she lose sleep over final exams. That was kid's play compared to this.
Thus, she found herself wondering the halls at four in the morning. She had gotten a few hours of fitful sleep before she decided to get out of bed and walk off her nerves.
The corridors were dark and eerily quiet. Had she not lived there for the past two weeks and walked these corridors during the day, she would have been adequately frightened. However, this was home now and she felt no fear. Instead, she felt a sort of calm as she walked the dark hallways of the Manor.
She took slow, steady steps. With each step, she felt her anxiety leave her, little by little, one by one, until finally, she was able to breathe.
She would be okay tomorrow. She would get everyone out alive.
She would face their society, and she would triumph.
With this thought in mind she turned the corner and found herself face to face with Draco Malfoy.
She lost the words to speak. She felt like both an intruder and the one intruded on. Both of them were wandering the corridors in search for peace in this restless night. To have found each other like this felt taboo.
So they stood in the corner of the corridor, face to face for several moments without a word. Hermione felt no rush to speak. While she felt that she had intruded on a private moment, to speak would be to break the magic which captivated both of them. Any words she thought of sounded crude, rough.
Instead, they stared at one another, blinking slowly, one blink after the other. It was Hermione who finally made the first move. She found herself taking one small step after the next towards him. Perhaps it took only seconds, but to her it felt like minutes, hours. One step after the next she walked towards him until she found herself face to face with him. He was but a mere arm length away. She needed only to reach out and touch him to break this silence.
So she did just that: she took his hand in hers and began to walk.
Hermione knew nothing of how Draco felt, but she knew that to speak would break this moment. Thus, instead of parting ways and walking alone, wondering about the other's silent journey, she chose to walk together.
They spoke no words that night. Instead, they walked the vast corridors of the mansion together in silence. There were no thoughts, no feelings, only the act of walking, the act of walking together. Together. She with each step, she began to understand that she was not alone in her fears for the uncertain. It gave her comfort.
It was not until the sun began to rise that Hermione found herself in front of her room. Draco had stopped at her door. She was not aware of when he had taken the lead, with her following instead of him.
She stopped as well and looked up at him. She could not read the emotion in his eyes and she knew she would never understand even if she could read them. Instead, she gave his hand a small squeeze and, after a pause, she let go to open her door and leave him.
She closed the door quietly behind her without a glance back. She thought nothing about what happened, the implications or meanings. To do so would rob her of the magic of that moment. Thus, without a thought, she made her way to her bed and found herself the recipient of a pleasant sleep full of hopeful dreams.
He had never expected to run into Hermione.
He had been restless and unable to sleep. The sun had set hours ago and the pale moon shone bright in the night sky. After aimlessly lying in bed for hours, he got up and began to pace. First, he began in his room. After an hour or so of this, his room was found to be too small. As a result, he slowly progressed to the corridors of the mansion.
He was unsure of how long he had wandered before he ran into Hermione. There was no point in his walking. He walked the corridors without a thought. He had no place in mind to sort out thoughts and no thoughts to sort out. He walked for the purpose of walking, the physical movement which accompanied it. Thus, when he found Hermione suddenly in front of him, he was unsure of what to do.
They gazed at each other for the longest time, each unwilling to move. This was half out of uncertainty of the correct course of action and half out of an unwillingness to break the silence which seemed to blanket the night. So, he found himself standing in front of her, unable to continue on his way, unable to approach her.
Thus, when she slowly made her way towards him, he thought nothing of it. Even as she stood a mere hand-width away, he thought nothing of it. When she held his hand, however, he thought everything of it.
The moment she held his hand in hers and led him down the corridor, he was flooded with all the emotion he had hidden away from himself. Her hand had released the dam of his fears, his worries and he found himself now walking to make sense of these thoughts, the very thoughts which Hermione had come to terms with.
He followed her as he began to face his fears one by one, step by step, and he found comfort in the fact that she was by his side. It was she that grounded him as he let go of his worries one by one. Then, suddenly, he found himself, not following her, but her following him. Perhaps she was aware of this, perhaps she was not, it did not matter.
Together, they walked the corridors of the Manor. Each corridor led them one step closer to peace. Each step released a little of their worry, each step, together. They were together, and that fact gave Draco strength. He was not the only one scared to fail. Here was someone who had so much more to lose than him, and here she was, calm, reserved.
He looked at her as he finally came to a stop in front of her door. She stood there, unaware that they had stopped. Still, he held her hand in his. Her eyes were bright as they sparkled in the darkness, her form, soft. He felt like that day by the lake. Something about her, for that unknown moment, the moment she was ignorant to his presence, she was beautiful.
He gazed at her for one more moment to remember her image, and with firm resolve, he released her hand.
She looked at him then and caught his gaze for the first time since they met in the hall. Her eyes were bright with peace and calm. There was happiness within them, and Draco could not bring himself to look away. It was too bright, beautiful.
She knew, perhaps, his thoughts, because she did nothing to decipher what she saw. Instead, she smiled and turned away to enter her room. The click of the door closing was so soft, and yet, deafening to Draco's ears. He wanted to call out to her.
Instead, he turned away and went to his room, and like Hermione, he chose to think nothing of tonight's events. Instead, like that day by the lake, he chose to have his heart remember as he entered the land of dreams.
Hermione sat in front of her vanity. She could not help but look at herself in the mirror. The face, the person staring back at herself looked like that of a stranger, not merely in the sense of shell, but core as well. The eyes before her were those of someone forced to grow up and accept what she could with the best grace possible, but there was also uncertainty in those eyes. Perhaps it stemmed from uncertainty of self, the future, or both.
Narcissa had left earlier to prepare herself, leaving Hermione alone to contemplate the coming night.
Each preparation of her body was in preparation of tonight. The long bath she had endured, the equally long session with the hair stylist, all were to prepare her for tonight. In a sense, it was her putting on her armor and preparing for battle, for that was what the ball this evening would surely be.
Take for example, her dress.
When word got out of the ball, all the designers sent their finished dress robes with notes that they would forward the rest of the clothes upon their completion. That is how Hermione and Narcissa came upon the problem of finding not a robe, but the correct robe.
"You must appear in a robe which reflects the power and magnificence that comes with the Angelus name, yet, as it is your first appearance, you must look humbled as to not look arrogant to the crowd," Narcissa explained as her eyes critically scanned the robes presented in front of her. They were all in Angelus white and blues, with the exception of a few. Each were unique in their style with both muggle and wizard influence.
Finally a dress robe of dark blue silk was chosen. It was of a modest v-cut and floor length which hugged her curves without being indecent. It was classic and tasteful. Most importantly, it was empowering.
That is how Hermione found herself sitting in front of her vanity, in contemplation, waiting to be called by Narcissa.
As a result, it came as a surprise when not Narcissa, but Draco appeared in the doorway behind her. She looked up from her vanity mirror and turned around to face him. He stood in his dress robes which looked like a sharp muggle suit of black, with an impeccably tailored dress coat. He held in his hand a large, flat black velvet box.
"Mother wanted me to bring the jewels. She said it would not be appropriate for her to present them to you." At Hermione's quizzical look, he continued. "Traditionally, males adorn their women with jewels. Even the head of the house, however busy, will take time to prepare his wife, for jewels are but symbols of power and status." He gave her a weak grin. "Tonight, we will show them the power of the Angelus."
Hermione nodded and gave a small smile in return. Her gaze shifted focus from Draco to the his hands. She gazed intently at the box, waiting for it to open. When it did, Hermione gasped.
Of course she expected it to be extravagant, but this seemed too much. She would blind everyone in the room with the brightness of the gems she was wearing. In the box was a diamond pendant which hung from a platinum chain. The diamond was about the size of her thumb and would rest not far above her belly. Accompanying it were diamond pendant earrings of the same platinum color and a heavy charm bracelet of platinum, diamond and sapphire.
"Now Granger, if you would stop gaping, I could put this on you," Draco dryly, but with humor and amusement along with exasperation at her awe. Honestly, at her reaction no one would believe she was the Angelus.
Hermione shot him a dirty look before she turned around and pulled her hair out of the way. She had removed her pendent-crest earlier. Narcissa had told her she would have no need for it tonight. The new necklace was heavy on her, but it gave her comfort. Its weight fortified her strength and focus on the battle ahead.
Surprisingly, Draco continued to adorn her by inserting the earrings with a delicate grace she hadn't known existed in the Slytherin. He made sure not to catch her hair and that they were firmly in place with a charm before moving on. He finished by clasping the bracelet on her left wrist.
He stepped back and paused, as if to examine his work. She gazed at him through the mirror, her back toward him.
Their eyes met and words were exchanged through them. There was no need for spoken words. All of them had been spoken that night a week ago and spoken wordlessly that very morning before sunrise. They would both do their duty and come out of this night alive and triumphant.
Their stubborn selves would accept nothing else.
Once Draco closed the door he leaned against the wall just outside.
He couldn't breathe. When he walked into the room, the image Hermione had presented was in one word: breathtaking. She sat, as the Angelus should, in all her glory. Her status and position were presented in physical manifestation. On any other woman, the dress would have made her, but with Hermione, she made the dress.
His heart beat like a dull recollection of that time by the lake, that time before sunrise this morning. She was beautiful. He lifted his gaze from her form to the mirror. Their eyes met and no longer was she simple beauty: she was power.
No one at school would believe the girl, no, woman in front of him was Hermione Granger. Gone was the shy school girl who preferred the company of books over boys. In front of him sat a woman who knew what she wanted. However, when he saw her eyes, he could see the uncertainty which came with new-found power.
He found himself returning to the present as he read the increasing confusion and question in her eyes.
"Mother wanted me to bring you your jewels," Draco answered firmly. "She said it would not be appropriate for her to present them to you." He continued as the confusion did not go away. "Traditionally, males adorn their women with jewels. Even the head of the house, however busy, will take time to prepare his wife, for jewels are but symbols of power and status. Tonight, we will show them the power of the Angelus, for jewels are but symbols of power and status." It was here, he gave her a weak grin to hide how he felt on the inside. "Tonight, we will show them the power of the Angelus."
There was no need to tell her the behind story.
He had outright refused when his mother had called for him earlier.
"It's inappropriate," he flatly replied.
It was true. Adorning jewels had always been an intimate function within any household. It had led to legendary arguments and scandals in the past, some whispered about even today. It was as important as the selection of jewels themselves.
"It is appropriate," his mother had replied. She paused in the middle of applying her lipstick. "Hermione has no kin. Thus, there are no blood relatives to care for her and present her to society. It is our duty to do so. Your father can not attend to her. It would be scandalous when he must attend to me and she is of age. It is your duty as her ward to prepare her."
He stood in silence, unable to reply.
She waved her hand to dismiss him. "Now, go. The jewels have been set out on the table next to the door."
She had been right, of course, but it did nothing to make him feel better.
It still felt too intimate. As a child, he had always admired his father when he adorned his mother. He made sure to always be present in his mother's dressing room before any function so that he may observe his father. It was only in those moments as his father adorned his mother, he saw the love they held for each other.
Draco had always imagined the first time he would adorn someone would be his wife, as it had been for his father. Instead, it was his ward, and he could not help but imagining what it would be like had his first time been with this wife, as a sign of deep held affection. Thus, while it was his duty, he felt a loss. This was something he would never be able to give away again. With that, Hermione took something away from him, a part of him.
"Now Granger, if you would stop gaping, I could put this on you," he had said dryly, emotions spinning in his head.
He saw the glare she gave him before she moved her hair out of the way. He ignored the way his heart ached and focused instead on his actions, his duty.
He lifted the necklace out of its case and unclasped it. It really was long enough to slip over her head, but this seemed to be appropriate, more formal. An occasion such as this called for formality. He continued with the earrings and delicately inserted them one by one.
It was a matter of pride, he had been told as a child. The adorer, so to speak, took pride in how delicately he treated the one he was adorning. It was insulting to tell the man of the household his wife must wince before every event due to the treatment she received.
One wince, one ouch, was enough to ruin a man in front of a woman. Thus, he did everything with great care and grace.
In the end, they shared no words. They had said everything they needed to say previous to this moment. Any spoke word seemed crude and unrefined, unable to convey the correct message. All words that needed to be spoken were conveyed in her eyes as he caught her gaze in the mirror.
It was with that he left and found himself in the hall.
It had all been too much. Hermione's presence alone was too much, but with adorning it was overwhelming. He took a few moments in the hall to grieve for his loss, the part of him which was taken by her. She now held not only his life's blood, but his first step into adulthood as well, for his first adorning should have been in the presence of his future mother and father-in-law.
He could not think about it. It was too much to sort out. There were more important things to worry about, like getting through this night alive. He would revisit his thoughts at a later time.
Not long after, Narcissa came to find Hermione.
"Ah, Draco did find you after all," Narcissa exclaimed as she entered the room. "He did not harm you in any way?"
Hermione shook her head, slightly confused at the odd question. "He was surprisingly gentle," she replied.
Narcissa nodded, as though in approval of Draco's work. "I had Daisy go fetch your cloak. We are to meet the men downstairs before apparating to Parkinson Manor. Draco will side apparate you along." She paused as a more serious tone took her voice. "Once we arrive there, you know your role. Stay with Draco. I know he will do his best to keep you safe."
Hermione looked at the older woman and nodded.
Narcissa paused to look at Hermione, as though assessing the integrity of her nod, before speaking. "I hope you do the same."
Hermione looked at her surprised. At first, she did not understand, but slowly realization dawned on her. Next to the Dark Lord, she was of the highest rank. It was Narcissa Malfoy's wish that she use that power to protect her son.
Narcissa saw Hermione understood and turned to exit the room. Hermione followed soon after her.
They made their way to the parlor where a house elf was waiting with both cloaks. Both the men stood to one side of the small elf, awaiting the arrival of the two ladies. No words or looks were exchanged. Each of the men took a cloak to dress the women. Hermione went towards Draco. It only seemed appropriate. As he helped her into her clock, she looked at him in curiosity. Their eyes met and his intense gaze made her heart race in her chest.
He held out his arm as he still held her gaze. She took it, and together they made their way outside the wards.
The night air was cool, but not cold. There was a slight breeze as they walked a small way across the snow covered grounds to the gardens. There, they would apparate out, as only family could.
A silence blanketed them. She could hear the quiet whispers of Narcissa and Lucius ahead of them. The occasional rustle of trees accompanied them. Draco spoke nothing as they walked quietly in the winter night. She followed him, without a word, only the sounds of her soft footsteps filled the air between them.
Perhaps, it was as result of Hermione taking something from him. Perhaps, as a result, she had taken more than just his experience. Whatever the reason was, Draco found himself unable to stop the next words that came out of his mouth.
"You look beautiful."
Hermione stopped to look at him as he continued to walk, in an effort to brush it off as nothing, a passing comment. Hermione heard those soft words though and could find nothing to say in reply. Instead, she chose not to question him and continued to walk by his side.
Once they arrived at the apparation point, Draco turned to look at her. She slowly met his gaze and saw that the look which appeared moments before was now gone. His mask was back in place. She nodded her head to let him know she was ready and he soon after apparated.
Hermione took a moment to re-orientate herself when they arrived. Apparating always had that effect on her. She took hold of Draco's arm as she regained control of her balance and her senses. Despite her disorientated state, her mind registered that Draco's other hand rested on the small of her back. It presented a rather small, odd sort of comfort to her in this lion's den.
Together, they were in this together.
She straightened up and looked at the mansion that stood in front of her.
It was quite different from Malfoy Manor. Whereas Malfoy Manor had an ancient feel to it, this Manor had a very young feel to it. The walls of the Manor were still a cream color which showed that years of weathering had not yet blackened them. The Manor looked warm and inviting with its lights and colors, but Hermione felt none of the ease that the Manor conveyed. It was to her a beautiful cobra just waiting for a chance to strike at the unaware passerby.
She saw Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy move towards the Manor. Soon after, Hermione and Draco followed suit. Together they walked up the winding pathway, one step at a time.
Beside her, she could tell that Draco was preparing himself for battle, all previous encounters forgotten. Following suit, Hermione did the same. She cleared her mind and tried to focus on the fight in front of her. The emotions due to the previous encounters of both parties were set aside.
She was terrified. One wrong move could end her life tonight. It was her first and only chance to get something right in a society she had only begun to learn about. She couldn't think about the consequences. Instead, she chose to keep her mind blank. She ignored all her fears and looked at the path in front of her.
The door to the Manor opened upon their arrival. House elves were awaiting the arrival of guests within the foyer. Casually, Narcissa and Lucius handed their cloaks to the house elves as people stopped to stare. Whispers began to circulate and Hermione could feel all eyes on her.
"They brought her, the mudblood," ladies hissed in hushed whispers and pointed fans.
"No!" a shocked, whispered gasp. "Where?"
"I don't know what he sees in her."
"A disgrace, to know the Malfoy's associate with such filth. I hear she's staying with them, has been for the past two weeks."
Hermione told herself to think nothing of the whispers and the pointed looks. Draco took her cloak from her, gently, as though her were used to dressing and undressing her. Together they looked familiar, intimate. As he his touch lightly caressed her shoulder, she turned to look at him and caught a fierce look in his eyes. She imagined they mirrored her own. They would fight and make it out alive, together. His eyes reassured her in a way his touch could not. She steadied herself as Draco went to hand their cloaks to the house elves.
Ready, together, the Malfoys and the Angelus walked to the ball room.
Hermione took a breath as they stood in front of the door. They had purposely chosen to arrive fashionably late to create the scene they desired. Already, it was in effect. Tonight was their night. It was the Malfoy clan that would shine.
A well placed charm announced their arrival to the ballroom.
"Presenting Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy with their son Draco Malfoy and his partner Hermione Granger."
As the doors opened, Hermione felt her mind and her heart open to the new world presented in front of her. As she stood at the top of the stair case, all she could see was the gold which surrounded her. From the lights to the people, everyone had a glow to them, and to imagine that she was at the top of this world presented to her was both thrilling and daunting at the same time.
However, once they reached the floor, Hermione was presented with the harsh reality of her situation and the danger which accompanied it. That golden world was far from hers.
"I'm overjoyed that you could make it tonight Narcissa," Vivienne Parkinson announced as she approached them. She greeted Narcissa with a hug and a light kiss on the cheek. Narcissa smiled back as she returned the hug.
"It has been too long Vivienne" Narcissa replied warmly. Hermione and everyone around them knew there was no truth in those words. However, the rules must be followed and propriety observed. The men exchanged greetings quietly. This was the woman's field. It would be them who set the tone for tonight.
Vivienne returned the smile and moved on to a new target: Hermione.
"I see you have brought a friend Draco," Vivienne exclaimed as she examined Hermione.
Hermione remained silent with a blank smile plastered on her face. She knew it was not her place to speak. She would allow Narcissa to set the stage. Draco stood at her side with the same smile upon his face. He made sure his arm was wrapped firmly around Hermione's waist. To the casual onlooker, it looked rather possessive.
"Yes, it was so kind of you to extend an invitation to our guest," Narcissa replied warmly. Draco let go of Hermione as she gave a bow to present her gratitude. She made herself appear humbled and honored to be invited to such an event. It was the proper gestures for a muggle born witch, the lowest rung on the ladder tonight.
"It was nothing," Vivienne brushed off even as the apparent glee at mortifying the Malfoy's was in her eyes. They shone with ambition and greed. She turned once again to Hermione and flashed a bright smile. "I do hope you enjoy your night here, as it is your first."
Hermione knew the meaning behind her words. It was Hermione's first night here, and, if Vivienne Parkinson had anything to do with it, her last. She was not welcome. Her purpose there was purely for the benefit of the Parkinson's overcoming the Malfoy name. She was to be a pawn in their power game.
Hermione pasted a unsure smile, one which conveyed both awe and terror at this new experience as she replied, "Thank you." The words were accompanied with a small bow. She felt Draco's approval when he put his arm around her again.
Vivienne returned the reply with a rather fake smile to convey her delight. She turned her attention to Narcissa. "While I would love to stay and chat Narcissa, I must see to how our other guests are doing. I do hope you enjoy the night," Vivienne said. Other small talk was exchanged about having tea in the future. Soon after, the Parkinsons left.
It left the four of them together, alone for a few precious moments before the masses came down on them. She exchanged a glance with Narcissa. Her eyes said everything Hermione needed to hear. It made Hermione remember all her lessons and strengthen her resolve to make it through the night, triumphant.
"Watch out for her Draco," Lucius hissed as he and Narcissa were swept away. A flurry of people awaited them, to pay their respects and gain the possible favor of the Malfoy name. For Hermione, and the rest of the Malfoy family, their fight for survival had begun.
Hermione stood next to Draco as they made their way to join the crowds of people, observing them first in curiosity, then in awe. The golden tone died down until she could see the world in color. She saw dresses of all hues, vibrant red, and emerald green. Men and women of all ages and generations were gathered together. It was amazing and unnerving to think the Dark Lord's hand reached so far.
"Imagine, seeing Hermione Granger, here of all places."
It was with those words that their first battle had begun.
Hermione turned to see Pansy Parkinson standing in front of Draco and her, a champagne flute in hand. Pansy wore a strapless emerald green dress of chiffon with a magnificent train. Her face wore a smile, but her eyes showed a different story. Pansy turned to Draco, disregarding Hermione completely.
"Pansy," Draco hissed as he held Hermione closer to him, his arm still around her waist. Whether this was for Hermione's safety or his, she couldn't be sure.
Pansy's eyes flashed in what Hermione assumed to be anger at Draco's movement. Had it been anyone but Pansy, Hermione would have stood her ground. However, with Pansy, this anger was personal, and that scared her. She had already experienced personal anger with Harry and Ron. She wanted nothing more of it. Thus, Hermione turned her body towards Draco's and lightly grabbed the front of his shirt. She did not cling, but she held on due to familiarity. He was her Guardian, and she knew he would protect her.
Pansy paused, startled by Hermione's movement. She closed her mouth and observed the two of them, sipping on her champagne. It was as though she were taking in the sight before her and contemplating what to say, remaking her game plan, and effectively switching from plan A to plan B. Meanwhile, Hermione and Draco stood together as a united front. Draco held her close to him, and she continued to grasp onto him.
Finally, Pansy made her move.
"I must admit Draco," she began. "When I first heard you were dating the mudblood, I didn't believe it. I thought you had better tastes."
Draco met her look. He said nothing as he glared at her, challenging her to continue. Hermione said nothing as she hid in Draco's arms. It was not her fight. She felt Pansy's anger grow as she continued her little monologue.
"I want to know what game you're playing at Draco," Pansy began as she took a step towards him, them. "That Draco Malfoy, pureblood son of Lucius Malfoy would suddenly lock lips with Hermione Granger, muggle friend of the Golden Trio," she paused a few steps from them. Hermione knew it was only her presence which stopped Pansy from approaching Draco further. With distaste, she said, "Something doesn't fit."
Together, Hermione and Draco said nothing. Pansy looked at them and Hermione could feel her frustration at their lack of reaction. She imagined, perhaps, that the anger Pansy felt towards them was due to Hermione's place in Draco's life, and his lack of opposition, even if it was fabricated. She couldn't be sure. However, Pansy's next words proved that Hermione, whether the cause or not, would be the target of her anger.
"That Malfoy would be with Granger, that much I can understand," she spoke, her gaze shifting focus from Draco to Hermione. "However, what doesn't makes sense is you Granger," she exclaimed, finger pointed, a dark look on her face.
Hermione wanted to ignore her gaze and hide in Draco's chest again, but she couldn't bring herself to look away. Instead, she felt apprehension rise in her chest as she saw the predatory gaze in Pansy's eyes.
"You have every reason to hate Draco, and yet, you cling to him," she said and leaned over to Hermione's ear. Hermione tried her best to keep her distance, but there was only so far she could go. Draco tried to put his other arm around her to shield her, but Pansy would have none of it. She held up arm and stopped him a glare. "What did you do Granger?" she hissed so softly, Hermione had trouble hearing her. "Did you seduce him into your bed? Do you scream his name as--"
"I think that's enough Pansy."
Silence ensued as they all turned to look at Blaise.
He took a hold of Pansy's arm as he stood behind her. He was dressed similarly to Draco, in a dark, royal blue, almost black suit. Pansy sent him a pointed glare, which he ignored. He met Hermione's gaze and sent her a smile.
"Would you like to dance?" he asked, hand outstretched, as though nothing were out of the ordinary. He still had a hold of Pansy's arm as he held out his hand.
Hermione gave him her first genuine smile of the night, both in amusement and relief. She had no desire to hear the rest of what Pansy had to say. In her relief, she almost said yes. However, she paused and looked up at Draco, as though to ask his permission.
Draco nodded and leaned over, as though to kiss her neck. "Stay close to him. He will not allow harm to come to you." He paused as he pulled back and gave her waist a small squeeze. "Be careful."
She grabbed his hand as it slid down her waist and gave him a smile in response to reassure him. He returned the smile with his eyes, and she turned to take Blaise's hand, leaving Pansy and Draco alone. Perhaps that was the real reason for Blaise's intervention.
As they made their way to the dance floor, Hermione was aware for the first time of how many people had been observing their exchange. There were numerous whispers and glances, both in the direction of Pansy and Draco, but also at Blaise and herself.
By leading her to the dance floor, it presented to those present that he was allying himself with the mudblood. They had seen the exchange and saw his intervention. Hermione was well aware that his actions were of no benefit to him. At least, not yet.
"Is it okay--"
"It's fine Hermione," Blaise replied, cutting her off. He took her hand and they began to dance. "I've lived in this world of whispered looks and glances all my life. A few more is nothing to fret about."
Hermione looked up at him, startled that he used her first name, and saw him smile once mroe. She realized, it was nice to hear her name after so long. Draco, for the most part, called her by her surname, whether that be Granger or Angelus, never Hermione. The use of her name and his smile in return made her smile and she relaxed, realizing she was in safe hands.
Together, they danced, waltzing around the ballroom. After one dance in silence, they began to speak. After the second dance they began to laugh, so that Hermione forgot how much was at stake tonight. She began to enjoy herself.
Blaise gave Hermione a smirk, "I enjoyed your Christmas present."
Hermione laughed as he swirled her around. "I thought you would find it amusing."
"I certainly did," he replied laughing. He grinned as he asked, "Did you enjoy my gift?"
Hermione laughed once more, recalling Draco's reaction. "Yes, I enjoyed it very much."
As though he knew whom she was thinking about, he said, "Though, I suppose mine pales in comparison."
Hermione's laughter died as she saw his gaze rest upon the ring on her hand. The song had come to an end and they found themselves standing still on the dance floor, hands still poised to dance. Reality set in as she regarded him curiously. Draco, her Guardian. Her, the Angelus. Then, a voice interrupted her thoughts.
"If you have nothing better to remark upon, then you'd best be on your way," Draco drawled. They looked over to see him approaching from a few steps away. Hermione knew he was hardly thrilled at the attention the ring was receiving. She was less than thrilled too. Her ring and his knife, they felt like private promises made to each other, only to be known by each other.
"Draco," Blaise replied politely with the nod of his head. He looked down at Hermione and let go of her hand, taking a small step away.
Hermione looked at Draco. While his face betrayed nothing, his eyes looked troubled. She wanted to ask him what Pansy had said. Instead, she held out her hand for Draco to take. He understood and with another nod to Blaise, he led her to dance.
She remained silent as they twirled around the floor. She wanted to respect his privacy, so she instead focused on those around her. It would help to ground herself once more and realize the seriousness of tonight.
She saw all eyes upon them. Young and old, all wanted to know the dynamic between the young Malfoy and his new found dirty little play thing. They would want to see how he treated her and the position of authority and power which Draco wielded over her. For him to appear weak to Hermione would mean that he was becoming soft. It was something which could be used against him by those more ambitious in the pureblood world. In addition, they were assessing her value to the young Malfoy. Were she treasured, she could easily be used as blackmail to make the Malfoy clan bend to whom ever's will.
Hermione gazed across the crowd as they flawlessly danced to the music. She knew they currently outshone all other couples on the dance floor. She was careful not to make eye contact with anyone. She wanted to know who was here, who her enemies were. She analyzed them as she would any problem. She drew up from her knowledge things which would protect her.
"My sister Bellatrix is simple enough to deal with. She is a simple woman of big ambition. Allow her to believe she will get her way and she will follow your word willingly." Narcissa had explained during their lessons. "Her husband, however, is far more cunning than his demure figure suggests. There is a reason why he chose to marry Bellatrix Black. He saw her blindness and used that to his advantage. She was the path to a great and noble family, and through her, he would have access to even higher families, such as the Malfoys. He thinks before he acts. He is however, over cautious, which is the one thing you can hold against him. Should he find any flaw in his endeavors, he will back down, for he is a man who would rather risk nothing than to risk something and fail."
"What did Pansy say to you?" Draco finally asked as they continued to twirl on the dance floor, returning her to the present.
She looked up at him. Perhaps he had heard nothing of her one-sided conversation with Pansy. For that, she was grateful.
"It was nothing," she replied. She didn't want to think of those words. They were dirty, filthy. Instead, she wanted to enjoy the moment, dancing with him, as she had with Blaise.
He gave her a glare. "I've known Pansy since we were both four and she had everyone wrapped around her little finger with false smiles and lies. Of course she said something to you."
Hermione replied simply, annoyed that he would not drop the subject. If they could not talk about pleasant things, she would rather have them dance in silence.
"What was said is between me and her, just as what she said to you is between you and her."
Draco looked at her irritated. He had no reply to her response because it was the truth. He could demand to know as her Guardian, but that would be a rather low-hitting move. Instead, silence pursued as they continued to dance.
Step by step, they flowed across the dance floor with such grace that onlookers were commenting not on their relationship, but rather on their skill. Still, she knew as they danced that his mind was elsewhere. Thus, after a while, she spoke.
"If I ask what transpired between you and Pansy, would you tell me?"
Draco looked down at her, an unreadable look in his eyes. He looked surprised almost, that she would ask such a forward question. He was about to reply when their next guest was announced.
"Presenting Lord Tom Marvolo Riddle."
There was silence in the room as the doors opened. All music came to a halt as people turned their gazes to the entrance of the ball room. Draco had let his arm fall to his side. However, Hermione kept hold of his hand which was clasped in hers. She did not want to let go.
The grand doors opened and in walked Lord Voldemort. However, instead of his snake like appearance, he appeared human. She imagined he used a rather powerful glamor to project an image of his past self. He had an air of power about him. His projection was charismatic, charming. Everything one would imagine in a visionary leader.
Those in the room bowed down on one knee. Hermione and Draco followed suit.
Hermione knew the moment the Dark Lord looked at her. She felt his gaze fall upon her.
She was terrified. Her heart had dropped when the name had been announced. They had known the Dark Lord would make himself present tonight. That is why they had prepared Hermione for her presentation even more rigorously than before. Still, even with the vaguest forewarning, nothing had prepared her for this. She felt her heart pound as he spoke his next words.
"Rise," he said and while it sounded as though he was speaking to them all, she knew he was speaking to her specifically. She knew his gaze did not leave her as she stood. She braced herself and lifted her head to meet his red eyes.
It was a whisper. She could not begin to fathom how she heard the words which left his lips from across the room. "Angelus."
The whole room froze once more and then all chaos let loose.
People spoke in hushed whispers as the Dark Lord approached Hermione Angelus.
Hermione made sure to let go of Draco's hand.
She kneeled once more to the Dark Lord when he stood in front of her. Draco followed her suit.
When Draco moved, the Dark Lord's gaze moved from Hermione to Draco.
"You knew," he hissed. His red eyes flashed dangerously.
"Yes, my Lord." Draco replied. There was no fear in his voice, but Hermione saw how tense his hand beside her was. She refrained from reaching out to him once more. That would give away too much.
"You did not think it worth mention?" the Dark Lord hissed in anger.
"When we last met, I had just found out," Draco replied calmly from his kneeling position. "I did not want to misinform you my Lord."
Hermione knew every word that came out of Draco's mouth was shit and the Dark Lord knew it too. Draco had lied. Draco had voluntarily with held information. Draco was in big trouble.
Anger flashed violently on the Dark Lord's face. His wand hand rose in the air, as to deliver swift judgment upon Draco. Then, he paused and stopped. The anger on his face smoothed out to a dark smile. No, something much worse was to come.
"Very well," the Dark Lord said as he eyed the girl in front of him. "If you are truly the Angelus, you will be able to save him."
Hermione followed his gaze. Draco. He meant she had to save Draco.
"What will you do to him?" she whispered as fear began to eat her.
The Dark Lord grinned. "Nothing he doesn't deserve."
Hermione stood in horror as the Dark Lord approached the young Malfoy.
"You will not harm him," Hermione demanded. Her will was strong but fear over rid her voice so that it came out shaken. "He is my Guardian. I will punish him as I see fit."
The Dark Lord laughed. "For one so young and so new to this world, you are eager to wield power and authority." He turned to look at her. She met his gaze full on and fear chilled her wild heart. "You have yet to learn many things. Power will not be given so willingly, even to the likes of the Angelus. The young Malfoy is mine to control. Therefore, he will be mine to punish as I see fit." He paused and glared at her. "If you are unable to heal him, know that you will suffer a fate far worse than his because you will have wasted my time and a valuable asset to my team."
Without warning a shot was fired and all Hermione could hear were Draco's screams. She didn't know what was being done to him, but she could feel it. She could feel his pain and his fear. She could also feel his anger; at whom it was directed, she could not tell.
Those few minutes were the longest of her life. Each second took an eternity and she knew she would hear Draco's screams in her sleep for a long while.
She knew the others were watching and couldn't help but feel fear. She feared that those who cared about him would hate her for putting him in such a position. That thought alone killed her spirit.
When the Dark Lord was done, he walked away, as though Draco were nothing but a bloody pool of trash. There was so much blood. The white marble floor beneath him was colored in bright crimson. His skin was pale and his eyes closed.
"Begin."
Hermione rushed to his side. She hadn't known until she felt a wetness that she had been crying. Tears ran down her cheeks as she began to assess what was done to him.
"I'm so sorry," Hermione murmured to comfort him as she listed his injuries in her mind. There was severe internal bleeding. His mind was damaged as results of the aftershock of such a horrible curse.
She did what came instinctively to her. She knew he held on him her dagger. She took it and cut open the front of his shirt. She heard gasps of shock and horror, but they were of no matter to her. Above his heart, she made two swift cuts to make a cross. His life blood spilled out and she heard Narcissa scream in horror. Hermione gritted her teeth as she slit her own palm. The blood pooled and she made a fist as the blood dripped down crimson onto his heart wound.
Hermione whispered, "May mine become one with yours."
The magic began as she felt his internal wounds heal and the bleeding stop. A string of charms and incantations came out of her, one after the other to finalize what the blood magic had begun.
To heal his mind, she bent over and kissed his forehead as she moved his hair aside. She thought nothing of it, its implications, how it may seem to others. To her, it was an action done to heal him and within that kiss conveyed her strong desire to heal, nothing more.
"Waken."
His eyes opened and frantically searched until he found hers.
Granger. He asked questioningly as he searched her eyes for answers.
It's Angelus She replied relief filling her voice.
They looked at each other to affirm that they had made it, that they had succeeded.
Hermione still had tears in her eyes as her gaze met Draco's. His hand reached out hesitantly toward her face.
There was a stale clap. Its sound echoed in the silent ball room. Draco's hand fell back to his side.
"Bravo Angelus. Bravo," the Dark Lord announced as he smiled down upon her. "You have passed."
She glared back, furious. She knew in that moment she could not trust him. The Dark Lord did not see value in life, the individual. He saw each life as a pawn, a piece in the game of power, each one expendable, each one of no importance other than the money and power they themselves wielded. He saw no preciousness in love, family and friends. She would never forgive him for purposely harming her Guardian. It did not matter that she and Draco argued or hated one another. They were duty bound to each other in name and blood. That alone demanded respect. She would have never done what the Dark Lord did tonight.
"Tonight, we have had the honor of witnessing the awesome power of the Angelus," the Dark Lord exclaimed. "I feel like a father who has found his long lost daughter and am overwhelmed with emotion. I am ready to welcome her back into our home by my side where she belongs."
When the last words died on his lips and the crowd roared in applause, he looked over at her and their eyes met.
She could read them as clearly as he could read hers. This was not over.
No, their game had only just begun.
Thus, it was with that in mind, Hermione left.
She left. She took Draco and left. She wasn't sure if Lucius and Narcissa were following. She didn't care.
She held his wrist as she walked out of the Manor, dragging him along. She knew he was sore, but well enough to walk, despite having his second near death experience. She didn't bother with the carriages. She walked to the gates and past the wards. Once she was out of their reach, she apparated with Draco alongside her.
It was easy enough. All she had to do was envision the place she had called home for the past week. She imagined the dark, brooding Manor walls covered in snow. She imagined her sunny bedroom with its massive bed. She imagined Draco's bedroom, or at least, his sitting space.
She stormed into the Manor, startling the house elves awaiting the return of their Master and Mistress. Draco said nothing as she dragged him to her room, knowingly or unknowingly. It was only after she had let him go that he spoke. He stood close to the door and she had flown to gaze out the window.
Finally, Draco spoke, as though to test the waters. "Granger"
"I will not serve someone who will so carelessly hurt his subjects," Hermione said from her place by the window. She turned to look at him, and he saw fury in her eyes. "While I may not understand what it is to be the Angelus, I know that this is not it."
"Then what will you have us do?" Draco hissed in reply. He was furious at her outburst. Were there a way to kill the bastard and get away with it, he would have done it already. Draco though, would not risk his family in an attempt on the Dark Lord's life. "Will you have us killed?" He shouted. Too much had happened for him tonight.
"No," she spoke firmly. "I will seek help."
"Help," he laughed. There was nothing light about his tone. "No one would dare to help the Malfoys, much less the Angelus," Draco replied. He resented her. He resented her for having dreams that he had once had. He resented her for having dreams he had thrown away and forsaken, for having dreams he too still longed for.
"Then I will do so alone," she replied calmly, a firm resolve in her voice.
He looked at her seriously now and realized she was not lying. She would find help, and if she could not find help, she would do this alone. She was more foolish than he initially thought. Stupid Gryffindor.
Before he could speak she said quietly in a soft tone, "You do not have to be a part of this. This is my decision."
She knew he had more than his life at stake. He had a family, a home. His actions affected his life and theirs. They were connected. She was now free of all such connections. Perhaps it was both a blessing and a curse. Right now though, it made her decision easier.
She was right. He could have no part in this mad scheme. He could walk away with his life and wish the best for her. His family would be safe. She forgot one point though: she was his ward. He sighed. "Angelus," he addressed her as such for the first time. It grabbed her attention. "The moment you chose to oppose the Dark Lord, it became my decision as well."
She had a look of surprise on her face. He continued to explain. "As your guardian, I am obligated to protect you in whatever endeavor you choose to part take in. It was in my blood oath to you. I can not turn my back on it."
She took back all thoughts of her obligations. She thought she had none now. She had no family or friends to look after. She realized now though that the bond between guardian and ward went further than she had initially suspected. She knew that if she asked him to die, he would, not so much because he had any desire to do so, but because of his duty to her. Thus, she now had a guardian to care for. It made her realize there was a warped sort of balance between the two positions. While the guardian took care of her from harm, the ward provided protection in the way of decisions.
Hermione knew Draco enough to know that he would honor her decisions and follow her to where life lead her, but she could see the way his eyes burned, the anguish in them. It was then she knew the outcome of her actions. Without meaning to, she had enslaved him. She knew his sense of pride, and their blood bond, would not allow him to leave her side with his debt unpaid. He would do ask she asked, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.
It was at that moment they felt the wards trigger to announce the presence of Narcissa and Lucius. It seemed that they had left not long after their departure. She could imagine they had took the minimal time to say their goodbyes and parting words as was polite and came to check up the both of them.
Without a word, together, they made their way to the foyer.
Narcissa ran to Draco when she saw them descending the stairs. There was clear panic in her eyes. "Are you okay?" she inquired as she inspected him over for any signs of injury. She had him in a tight hug. All the composure Narcissa normally displayed was gone and in its place was a worried mother.
"I am fine mother," he replied calmly as he tried to extract himself from her hug.
"Thank God," Narcissa exclaimed. "I thought my heart stopped when he attacked you." She paused to gather herself before continuing. "There was so much blood..."
"He's fine dear," Lucius said as he approached them, calm. However, Hermione saw his expression was strained. "We have the Angelus to thank for that."
Narcissa regarded her for the first time since they had arrived. "Yes. Angelus, thank you. Without you..."
"It is my duty as Draco's ward to look after his welfare," Hermione replied formally when she found Narcissa at a loss of words. She knew of no other way to address the emotional state Narcissa was in.
"You did well tonight Angelus," Lucius continued. Hermione could see he was trying to be strong for his wife. She could read the fear in his eyes at what the outcome of tonight could have been. "There was much talk after you left. The Dark Lord would dare not make you an enemy, if not for the fact that the entire pureblood society is behind you, then for your healing abilities. I believe he sees them as...useful." She could see a hint of dark amusement in Lucius' eyes as he said this. "You proved yourself a formidable opponent. Bravo."
"We have, thus, provided the first move," Lucius continued. "We have shown them our power and authority. Now we sit and wait for their next move. Meanwhile, we must not lose our footing or step. Do nothing in haste and be even more cautious than before. I have no doubt that news of your existence will appear soon."
Hermione looked at Lucius and nodded.
Narcissa stepped away from Draco, smoothing her skirt and regaining her composure. She looked at her husband as Hermione caught Draco's gaze. She saw something intense there. There was challenge. She imagined her eyes mirrored his.
It was simple. Their game had begun.
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