Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.
HAHAHA. I just realized something hilarious. Well, hilarious in a bad way. I'm going to be traveling outside the country next week... Except that I won't have my laptop with me and there's a good chance I won't be anywhere near a computer unless I'm in an airport on a layover. So now I have to figure out how to add new chapters from my phone, because too much juicy stuff happens next week to leave you hanging. DAMNIT, my planning is total crap! Total crap!
Anyways. By the end of this chapter, I hope you'll be as excited as I am for the return of one of our favourite scheming ladies. Please review, because tomorrow's chapter is FUCKING BAMFY. xo
Protective. What a load of codswallop. Draco was brooding on the corner of the small platform, trying to ignore the flashing of bulbs and the crowd of reporters shouting out questions to him. Why in Merlin's name did he let Hermione talk him into this again? He hated this shite.
"Try not to look like you want to murder them all," Hermione whispered, a cheery smile plastered on her face as she stood next to him.
"But I do want to murder them all," he whispered back, smirking.
"Does plotting their deaths make you happy?" she asked, a serious expression on her face.
He thought about it and then nodded.
"Well knock yourself out then," she said. "Smile away. I don't want any pictures of you brooding in the papers tomorrow."
He snorted with amusement. As much as Blaise's comment rattled him, his friend did make a good point about their rapport. His conversations with Hermione contained just the right amount of sarcastic wit to keep him amused.
"You know, you're really quite good at all this stuff Granger," Draco said as he watched Blaise test out the podium. "Where'd you learn it all?"
"It's Hermione, for goodness sakes," she chastised. "And let's just say I have a fair amount of experience in image management. I can make things look good on the outside. Had lots of practice over the years."
Blaise gave them the sign that everything was ready to go, and Hermione gave Draco a bright smile. "Shall we?" she said.
"You lead, I follow," he said. She chuckled. "But don't get used to it!" he clarified. They walked to the podium together and Hermione stepped up on a wooden box to reach the microphone.
"Aw, Granger can't reach the mic!" he whispered, smiling like an idiot for the cameras. "How endearing."
"Call me Granger near a microphone again and I'll murder you myself," she replied, flashing a grin at the crowd. "Now stick to the script."
"Hello everyone!" she said, loudly, waving to get the room's attention. "Thank you so much for joining us. This will be a short press conference, but we wanted to share the good news with your ourselves."
"Yes, thank you for coming," Draco said, slipping comfortably into his role as the confident public speaker. He might hate everyone here, but he was a Malfoy, damnit, and he knew how to work a crowd. "I'm sure you're all familiar with the sequence of events that have brought us here today. You'll be pleased to know that Hermione has made a full recovery from her harrowing ordeal."
Polite clapping broke out in the crowd, and Hermione nodded her acknowledgement gratefully.
"I certainly have, thanks to you Draco," she said. For a split second he was tempted to mime throwing up onto the floor, but he decided that he would rather not die by Hermione's wrath in front of so many people. As if she could read his thoughts, she discreetly elbowed him in the ribs. "But we aren't here today to talk about Draco's heroic deed, or at least not the one that involved saving my life. We are here to announce that I have accepted a position with Trebax Brooms, a world-class company run by Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini."
More applause from the audience. Draco noted with relief that they seemed to be eating up the cheesy script, and hoped that with a bit of luck, they could be done here in minutes.
"When Hermione explained to me that she didn't feel comfortable going back to her former place of work for reasons that shall go unmentioned - " Draco paused for dramatic effect, letting everyone understand that Ron-fucking-Weasley was the unmentionable - "I was more than happy to offer her a position within the company. We are certain that her enthusiasm will help Trebax grow into an even more dynamic organization. She is a bright, driven, courageous woman and we are lucky to have her." He had added that last bit in himself for good measure. Hermione sent him an approving grin.
"Are there any questions?" Hermione asked. A dozen hands were raised, asking all manner of things, some relating to brooms, but most relating to Draco's heroic rescue. They responded as best they could without wading too deeply into the self-congratulatory muck. Neither of them had much of a stomach for it.
"Weren't you two enemies in school?" shouted someone.
"Enemies is a strong word," Draco said. "There was some natural house rivalry, and we certainly weren't chummy, but we've both grown up since then... Isn't that right Hermione?"
"Certainly is, Draco," she said, playing it up. He looked at her with amusement. If he didn't know how she had been coping with stress and pressure over the years, he'd assume she was just a natural at this stuff. She seemed completely confident and at ease.
"Have you spoken to Ron Weasley since the incident?" shouted one reporter after the bulk of questions was out of the way. Hermione frowned, but shared a look with Draco to let him know she could handle it.
"I haven't, nor do I plan to," she said. "I'm happy to leave that part of my life behind me."
"What are you going to do with the ring?" shrieked another. Draco looked at Hermione uncomfortably. One question was fine, but he didn't want this to turn into a frenzy. Hermione didn't need the stress.
"I sent it back in the post," she answered, calmly. "Now if that's everything, that will be the end of - "
"Were you aware that Mr. Weasley has proposed to Miss Stacey McLorrow this morning?" said a voice. A petite woman with short black hair stepped out of the crowd, a look of cunning mischief on her face. "With your ring," she added.
The crowd gasped, and Draco saw Hermione go white as a sheet. She gripped the podium to stop her body from swaying. Alarmed, Draco placed his hand on the small of her back. Stacey McLorrow? From Rowhouse Brooms? The one who stole their plans? That fucking bitch!
"Granger," he whispered, his lips accidentally brushing her ear. "I think we should cut this short."
"I was not aware of that," she said into the mic, her voice small now. Draco felt her sway again beneath his hand and wrapped his arm around her waist. "But I wish them the best," Hermione said, forcing an artificial smile onto her face.
"Good save," he murmured, pulling Hermione away from the mic. Flash bulbs went off like a lightening storm and Draco supported Hermione heavily as they walked off the platform and back behind the curtain.
"Blaise, could you fend them off please?" Draco asked his friend as Hermione sunk more deeply against him.
"Gladly," Blaise growled, walking back out to charm the press as best he could.
"Let's get you out of here," Draco said, looking at the shaking girl in his arms. When she didn't respond, Draco turned on the spot and arrived with a CRACK at the front door of Trebax, Hermione pressed tightly against his chest.
"I didn't know they were dating," Hermione said numbly as he dragged her up the stairs towards the main space.
"They probably weren't 'dating' in the traditional sense of the word, Granger," Draco said, pulling her into his office and setting her down in a comfortable chair.
"I didn't know they were shagging, then," she murmured. "But I guess I didn't really know about half the women he was shagging."
"He's a tosser. You're better off without him." Draco would say anything at this point to make her feel better... Even the truth. He could see how quickly she was fading and it was starting to scare him. It was this sort of stress caused her addiction in the first place. Without the pills, would she be able to cope? Goddamnit when did he become so fucking worried about her?
"Maybe I didn't know him that well after all," she said, sadly. "The Ron I thought I knew would never have done this."
"He's a fucking git," Draco replied, looking through his desk drawers for something to occupy her mind. "That's all you need to know." He handed her the Hogwarts paperweight in the interim. She fiddled with it. "I think Blaise has some crisps or something in the cupboard. Give me a sec."
She gave him a soft smile. "You can be awfully nice, you know." Something funny twinged in his chest. It had been happening more and more lately. He should really see a Healer about that.
The smile melted off her face as quickly as it had come, and tears began to well up in her eyes. Her hands began to shake, and she dropped the paperweight with a pained gasp. Draco picked it up and placed it on his desk. He had to get her off this train of thought. The withdrawals had started again.
"Hang on, Granger. I'll be right back."
Draco closed his office door behind him and walked out into the main space, running his hands roughly through his hair. Sweet Merlin, that had turned into a right disaster. It would be hard to convince him that this whole circus was worth Hermione's mental stability, no matter how the press spun this. She had been trying to help him out, and now she was getting an emotional lashing. Worst of all, it had happened at a media event of all places. Now they would all be reporting on this fucking soap opera until the cows came home.
"God, Weasley is such an imbecile," he muttered, rifling through the cupboard to find some food for Hermione. A tap of his wand and a cup of hot tea assembled itself on the counter. Maybe this would help. He had to keep her occupied, or something ugly was going to happen.
A loud CRACK echoed outside of the building and Draco spun around. That had better be Blaise. He heard someone open the door and walk up the steps. As a precaution, he raised his wand. If Weasley had somehow gotten past the wards, he would happily correct the error right here. It would almost be worth the time in Azkaban.
The sounds of tapping feet against the stone made him hesitate. The visitor certainly didn't walk like a man. In fact, it sounded like the visitor was wearing heels.
Not only that, but they were humming an eerie little tune he recognized from his childhood.
"Put your wand down, Draco," said a female voice.
"Mother?" he said, his mouth dropping open with surprise.
Narcissa stepped into the light. She was dressed the part of the Malfoy matriarch, all in black, a long lacy dress with full sleeves and pointy black boots. Her blonde hair was pulled away from her face, but trailed most of the way down her back. Her lips were blood red, as were her nails. One disapproving frown, and she would look as threatening as the papers said she was. Cold. Ruthless. Uncaring. She played that card very well, having long since perfected the look that came with belonging to a family like hers.
Here, however, with only her son watching, she could allow herself a smile. After all, it seemed their fortunes had changed since the last time they spoke.
Draco wrapped her in a tight hug, trying to remember the last time he had seen her outside of the Manor. It had probably been years. She hadn't been faring well in the crumbling house, growing more and more anxious about their financial situation as time passed. Now though, she looked radiant, as though her confidence had never left.
"You look good darling," she said, squeezing his hand.
"So do you," he said. "How is father? And Queenie?"
"Both excellent," she smiled.
"Glad to hear it. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" His question was tinged with a bit of worry. He hadn't told his parents anything about the events of the past couple of days, preferring instead to wait until things had settled down to break the news, whatever the news ended up being. The chances of them finding out from the press were low - they had stopped reading the papers years ago because of the constant criticism, not to mention the fact that they were isolated from everyone who might be tempted to gossip. He had been counting on that fact to buy him time. Perhaps that had been too optimistic.
"Don't fret, Draco," she replied, picking up on his concern. "It's funny, actually... We've gone years being shunned by the world, not a peep from our old colleagues, and two days ago we start to get inundated with post by our well-meaning former friends. I haven't seen that many owls on the horizon since before the War."
Damn. So his parents did know what was going on, or at least the version in the newspapers. He really didn't want to get into an argument right now... Not while Hermione was in the other room. He would have to move this along quickly.
"What did these colleagues have to say, mother?" he asked, knowing the answer full well, dread building in his stomach.
"It seems they have some concerns about the object of your heroism," she replied. "The Granger girl."
"I see," he said, deciding to keep his response simple. He still couldn't get a clear enough handle on her mood. Was he about to be disowned? She didn't seem upset with him, but then again, he didn't want to assume anything. He needed to be ready for whatever was coming his way.
Odd that she was referring to them as "former" friends, though.
She smiled, and for the first time, he noticed the fire in her eyes. "Interesting, isn't it? Our former friends seem to think that it would be better to end up destitute, unable to afford food or shelter, begging on the street, rather than help someone in need who happens to be Muggle-born."
Draco stared. Was she implying what she seemed to be implying? His mother was smart, sometimes terrifyingly so. She wasn't going to phrase something like that unintentionally. He swallowed heavily, waiting for her to continue.
"Imagine the shame, a Malfoy saving someone who isn't of our blood status," she said, her words dripping with sarcasm. "Someone who would die without help. It seems that our colleagues believe there is no greater transgression, that you have insulted all those who came before you with this one heroic act."
His eyebrows rose. So Narcissa was angry, a quiet kind of anger that right now seemed much more dangerous than an outright tantrum. Miraculously, none of the venom was directed towards him, nor towards Hermione. In fact, Narcissa seemed livid at the characters who slithered out of the woodwork to criticize her son. It was their mistake, and it was a big one. Draco knew how scary his mother could be when she was like this. All her brilliance and cunning became a focused beam of destruction, intent on some form of retribution.
Judging by the look on her face, she would have it.
Now that he thought about it, his mother's "former" friends had actually done him a favour. Not only had they broken the news, but they'd also made Narcissa instantly protective of Draco's actions. He could use that to his advantage.
"What are your... Impressions... About what you've heard?" he asked, testing the waters. Granted, he had been worried about his parents' reaction to the situation, but it occurred to him that he had something important working in his favour. Malfoys protected their own, and they did it fiercely. If they looked favourably on Hermione for saving their family name and the business, her blood status may actually be a non-issue.
Could that really happen?
"What I've gathered from all the helpful correspondence I've received is that you saved the life of a young woman who desperately needed your help. She in turn has worked to improve the reputation of our family in the press, and is now helping revive the business that keeps us all afloat. It also seems that she is doing this despite the fact that we have not been... Hospitable to her in the past. Is this information correct?"
"It is, and I'll only add that after working here a day, she has also managed to pull Trebax out of debt."
Narcissa's eyes widened dramatically. "Are you serious?"
"I am," he responded.
She appeared to consider the information. "Well then, my only response would be to ask when I can meet her to thank her in person."
"Funny you should mention meeting her," he said, suddenly remembering the state Hermione was in when he left her. "She's in my office, but this may not be the best time for introductions."
"Oh?" she said. "Is she feeling unwell?"
"You could say that," he responded, uncomfortably. He didn't want to keep anything from his mother, but he had no intention of breaking Hermione's trust either.
A loud crash interrupted him, and Draco's stomach dropped. "Granger," he breathed before running over to the closed door, Narcissa directly behind him. He threw it open and looked around.
Hermione was nowhere to be seen. There was shattered glass all over the floor, Draco's corner cabinet was now broken with a door hanging off its hinge.
"Fuck!" Draco growled, stalking through the space. "Goddamnit, it's like taking care of a fucking tornado. I swear to Merlin, Granger..." He ran his hands through his hair again, his mind racing. He shouldn't have left her alone for so long. He should have been more careful, especially with the news she had received at the press conference. After finally deciding to try and keep her safe, he was already failing.
"What happened here?" Narcissa asked, her eyes traveling around the room, taking everything in. "Where's the girl? Why is the cabinet broken?"
Draco clenched his teeth. He had to tread carefully. His mother was far too smart to believe a bad lie, and he was too upset to lie well.
"She's gone," he said, rubbing his temples. "The cabinet is broken because she needed something out of it, and she had to get through my security spells to do it."
Narcissa looked at him, gathering much more information from his mannerisms than most people would. Her son was extremely worried, all his nervous habits coming out in full force. The pacing, the clenched fists, the veins showing along his neck... Did the Granger girl really inspire this kind of response in him? If so, it would be the first time she'd ever seen him be this serious about looking after someone's safety. Malfoys very rarely cared about anyone unless they were family. It was a well-documented fact.
"What did she take out of the cabinet, Draco?"
"She took the Firewhiskey," he sighed. It was the truth. The large bottle was gone, and from what he could see, it was the only thing missing. It seemed Hermione had decided against coping without substances after all.
"And why would she take that?" Narcissa asked. Really, the question was a formality. Narcissa Malfoy was a champion at reading between the lines.
"Mother, I don't want to lie to you, so I'm just going to say that I'm not at liberty to explain. I've made a promise to Granger. I'm sorry."
Narcissa frowned at her son and then looked back over to the pile of broken glass. Choosing to protect the girl over telling his own mother? Now that was interesting.
"Of course. I understand."
"Really? You're okay with that?" he said, relieved and anxious all at once. Hermione's whereabouts were already weighing on his mind. His mother's quick acceptance of the situation was odd, but not worth dwelling on.
"I would not ask you to betray a confidence, darling," she responded. "I will meet Miss Granger another time."
"Thank you for understanding, mother," he said with a grateful smile, hoping to usher her out quickly.
"Perhaps you can come by the Manor sometime soon. I'll send you an owl," she said before kissing his lightly on the cheek. "I should go - I have some important errands to run before I return home."
"Of course," he said, puzzled as to what errands she might have to do. Leaving the Manor was strange enough, but being seen in public was not something he expected her to do.
"Mother," he said, a concern popping into his mind just as she turned to leave. "Does father share your views? On Granger I mean?"
Narcissa looked back with a sweet smile. "He will," she said, simply.