Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.
I'm leeeeeaving on a jet plane... In four hours. And I'm still packing. So here's your update a bit early! Fingers crossed I'll still be able to update while I'm gone!
I want to say SO MUCH about this chapter, but if I do, then I'll just be giving everything away... So I'll shut up and let you read. *offers you virtual shoulder to cry on, because you may need it* xo
Hermione walked quickly through the old hallway, trying to ignore the intimidating portraits that were glaring down at her. They were all whispering, passing word along as she sped by, always a few steps ahead of her.
"Just lovely," she whispered to herself, fighting back tears. "I'm alone in the Manor of all places, surrounded by at least five generations of disapproving Malfoys, trying to figure out if I'm going crazy."
"You're not going crazy, darling," said a voice.
Hermione jumped and looked around. There was nobody else in the hallway with her, but that sounded very much like Narcissa's voice.
"Keep walking," said the voice, pleasantly. "I'm down near the end."
Cautiously, Hermione peered in the direction of the voice and noticed a small nook where the hallway ended. Deciding that she really had nothing to lose, other than her life, if things went wrong, she might as well have a look.
"You really are as pretty as they said," came the voice as she neared the portrait. It was in an ornate gold frame, decadent and heavy with swirling lines. In the frame sat a stunning young woman who looked strikingly like Narcissa, except this woman had black hair.
"I'm sorry but… Who's they?" said Hermione, trying not to stare at the beautiful woman. Whoever she was, she seemed equally as interested in Hermione, standing up from her stool and moving as close as she could.
"The portraits," the woman whispered with a smile. "I know they seem disapproving, but they're really quite excited. We've been waiting for you to visit ever since Draco came by looking so smitten."
"Draco is not smitten," Hermione said, her cheeks heating up. "He's my friend."
"That's what I said about Lucius too," shrugged the woman. "Didn't last long. I fell for him very fast, although not quite as quickly as he fell for me." She winked at Hermione cheekily.
"You're Narcissa Malfoy?"
"I am indeed," she said. "Although technically, when this was painted, I was still Narcissa Black."
"But… The Narcissa from now… Her hair is blonde," Hermione said, confused. "Almost white."
"Yes, well, being the destined true love of a Malfoy changes one's hair, dear," said Narcissa, casually. "Mine changed a few weeks after this was painted."
Hermione paled, a sinking feeling grabbing hold of her stomach. "Did you say... You hair changed? How is that possible?" she whispered, terror showing in her face.
"Oh, do you not know yet?" said the portrait, gleefully. "How exciting! Let me explain it this way. Some people are lucky enough to marry a Malfoy because they fall in love, or their families are a good match, or the marriage helps someone's career. Others, like you and I, get the sort of love that's written in the stars. We are the luckiest of all."
"Stars?" Hermione echoed, feeling lightheaded. "Lucky? How?"
"The Malfoy family has a trait that gets passed down in the bloodline. Every now and then, a Malfoy will meet their proper mate, someone they are destined for. The trait bonds the two people, so courtship is usually very fast and intense. Either way, you end up with a pair that is truly meant to be together."
"But what does that have to do with hair?" said Hermione, confused.
"Say two gingers have a child… The child is probably going to be a ginger, correct?"
Hermione nodded.
"This is a magical trait, but it works much in the same way as something passed down by blood. White-blonde hair is a marker of the Malfoy family. When someone finds their mate, and the connection is genuine, the mate becomes part of the family. Hence the changing of the hair. Doesn't happen all that often, but then again, you and I have always been rather special women. Quite fitting that we would be chosen. Our destinies are mapped out for us. Isn't it wonderful?"
"Wonderful?" Hermione said, trying to contain the sense of dread that was spreading through her. "I don't want my destiny to be mapped out for me!"
"Oh, pish tosh darling," said the portrait, missing the look of anxiety on Hermione's face. "Being a Malfoy is a tremendous honour. We are like the kings and queens of your Muggle world. Think of it as becoming royalty! First your hair will change, then you'll start to feel a protective bond... It's all very quick. I got married almost immediately after the process started."
"Married?" Hermione gaped, thinking back to how protective she felt when Stacey threatened Draco. "I'm not ready for that! Draco and I aren't even seeing each other!"
"You don't have to be dating to be in love," shrugged the portrait.
"Who said anything about love?" Hermione protested. "As I told you before, we are friends, and recent ones at that."
"Are you sure?" the portrait said, sceptically. "Because I can tell you that there's absolutely no way a Malfoy would have saved your life that night otherwise. We aren't really wired to care about the masses."
Hermione glared at the flippant nature of the portrait's comments. "First of all, Draco is a good man at heart, and that's the reason saved me. Secondly, we weren't even friends before that happened, and he certainly wasn't in love with me. You can even ask him. I'm sure you're mistaken."
"Don't feel badly dear," the portrait said, unconcerned with Hermione's argument. "He probably didn't know it either. As I understand it, he was quite shocked when he found out about the trait."
A painful twinge in her chest made Hermione flinch. "He knew?"
"Oh yes. Myself and Lucius too. We were very curious to meet you today."
"That's why I'm here?" she cried. "But this is completely mental! I will not have my life dictated by some supposed magical bond! For goodness sakes, Draco and I are not destined for each other. We hated each other at Hogwarts!"
"Oh my, that I understand," Narcissa said, rolling her eyes. "Lucius was such an entitled prick in school I couldn't stand to be anywhere near him. Thought he was God's gift to the world."
"So how did that change so drastically?" Hermione said.
"He was a different man on the inside. Very caring, very noble, although you never would have guessed it. Found out the same way you did with Draco: he saved my life."
"How?" Hermione asked, amazed at the conversation she was having.
"How indeed! I had developed a rather nasty habit, if you know what I mean."
"Excuse - "
"Did you know that Lucius and I were both competitive duelists when we met?" said the portrait, interrupting her.
Hermione shook her head.
"He never bested me, of course," she said, proudly. "I was the top ranked in all of Europe. But I let the competition get to me, and pushed myself too hard. I started taking an energizing potion so that I could sleep less and train more. Horribly addictive stuff, as it turns out. I couldn't stop taking it. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. My body started to shut down. Lucius started noticing the difference and intervened. I nearly died from it."
"How awful!" Hermione said, astounded at the similarities between the two of them. Suddenly, a light bulb went off in her mind. "How did you recover from your addiction?" she asked, suspiciously.
"I learned how to make a rather curious potion," Narcissa said. "It removes all of the addictive substance from your body. It's lovely, actually. Such a peculiar colour – "
"Bright blue?" said Hermione.
"Why yes!" said Narcissa. "Have you tried it? Quite rare, actually. Not many people know how to make it."
"Someone left me a bottle and I drank it," Hermione said. "I think it might have been your older self."
"Sounds like something she would do," said the young Narcissa, looking annoyed. "I'm a bit miffed that she didn't tell me her plan, but I suppose she was trying to respect your privacy. She's of the opinion that I can be a bit of a loudmouth. Always tells me I need to grow up." The portrait pouted for emphasis.
Hermione kept quiet but silently agreed with the assessment of the older Narcissa. The portrait in front of her was a good example of how people changed over time. While she didn't know the older Narcissa very well, she had gathered enough of an impression to judge the difference. The Narcissa Malfoy of today was wiser, stronger, and quieter than her younger self. Her plans were secret. Strategies were carefully calculated in advance. She would never have divulged this much sensitive information so quickly. She probably also would have been able to see that Hermione was uncomfortable with the issue and backed off. The portrait? Far too excitable to notice.
"My guess is that she wanted the addiction out of the equation so that your body could catch up with the effect of the trait," the portrait babbled. "Draco's obviously been feeling it. Poor boy thought he was going insane. Wanted to strangle everyone that hurt you."
Well, he wasn't alone in feeling crazy. Low level panic was churning in Hermione's stomach. This situation was the sheer definition of madness. Part of her didn't want to believe this bond existed, but another part of her already knew it was true. The strange things that had been happening to her since last night were the proof.
"The good news is that with the addiction gone, your body and mind can focus 100% on Draco," the portrait said, cheerfully, breaking through Hermione's thoughts. "You can marry as early as next week, if you want. You won't be able to keep yourself away from him before long. You'll come stay here at the Manor, of course, as all Malfoys do. The wedding can happen in the garden. Your children will be a charm. Oh, this will be just lovely..."
Something snapped in Hermione's mind.
"Enough."
The portrait slowed, a confused frown crossing her face. She seemed to finally notice Hermione's lack of excitement over the news she had been dumping on her.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but there will be no wedding next week, if ever."
The portrait opened her mouth to speak, but Hermione continued. "Draco is a very special person. I trust him, I care about him, and one day, maybe I'll love him. Maybe. But I outright refuse to have my life laid out before me in the name of some archaic tradition. I imagine Draco feels the same way. What I will do next is take some time - alone - to think about what you've told me. I will weigh my options. I will decide how to proceed. Perhaps you will see me again, but perhaps not."
"Don't be silly girl... You can't outrun fate!" said the portrait, scandalized. "What an absurd suggestion! Besides, it's a huge honour to be a Malfoy! We are like - "
"Kings and queens, so you've said. But would you like to see what being a Malfoy means to me?" Hermione said, tears welling up in her eyes. She pulled her sleeve up over her scar to show it clearly, still red and irritated as though it had just been done. The portrait stared, wide-eyed. "Being a Malfoy means being able to watch someone be tortured in front of you and not make a move to stop it. It means hating people for their blood, hating enough to kill. It means bringing your innocent young son into a world of darkness and asking him to adapt. Malfoys have long been synonymous with elitism, judgement and a lack of compassion. Draco has obviously changed his ways, so maybe there's hope, but I will promise you this: I will not be called a Malfoy unless it's my explicit choice. I will not change myself to suit the family. I don't need your brand of royalty."
Shaking with emotion, Hermione took off running before the portrait could reply, tears streaming down her face. She nearly ran right into Draco, who was rounding the corner in front of her, but swerved to avoid him, picking up speed.
"Hermione!" he yelled, scrambling to change direction and catch up to her. "Slow down!"
"Leave me alone!" she yelled back, charging down the dark hallways towards the main doors.
"Please let's just talk about this!" he shouted, gaining on her as he ran. "You're obviously upset!"
She ignored him, speeding up as the doors came into sight.
"Don't just run into them!" he warned, panicked. "They only open for - "
The doors opened as she approached and she sailed though them effortlessly.
" - family," he finished, slowing down. "Jesus Christ, I can't believe this. Hermione Granger, would you fucking STOP already!"
She slowed and turned around, her eyes blazing.
"That's right," she panted. "Hermione Granger. Not Hermione Malfoy."
"Is that what the portrait told you?" he groaned, wiping his brow. "Look, this is all new to me too - "
"But you knew! She said you knew!"
"I found out about the trait yesterday morning and I didn't believe a word of it," he pleaded. "Not until your hair started to change, anyway. It's supposed to be extremely rare... I didn't think it would actually affect us, let alone my parents."
"You should have told me!" she cried. "This whole lunch is a farce! I'm just under the microscope!"
"Hermione, you and I only discussed your hair moments before we arrived here," he said, trying to calm her. "I didn't want to scare you over nothing. I still wasn't completely sure."
"And are you now?" she said, her chest heaving.
"All I know for sure is that I care about you," he admitted, resisting the urge to drop to his knees and start begging. I more than care. I more than care. Please don't leave me. "I don't want to lose you over some dumb trick of fate. I want to do this properly."
"How?" she said, looking wild. "How can we possibly do this properly? It sounds like I'm supposed to just marry you and start having your babies tomorrow. I finally get clean and now I've got another obligation to slave after."
Draco flinched at her words. "We both know that wouldn't work for us," he said, taking a step towards her with his hands out, trying to ignore the pain in his chest. Please don't leave me. "And I don't want to be an obligation. I've learned the hard way about following family traditions without questioning them. We can do this the way we want."
"Everything is 'us' and 'we' with you," she growled. "What exactly do you want, Draco?"
He looked at her nervously. "I'd like to take you on a proper date. Then you can decide if you want to have another one." Please don't leave me.
There was a long silence as she assessed him, the tears from moments earlier drying on her cheeks and her hair curling messily in all directions.
"A date?" she breathed.
"Yes. Just something casual. Nothing stressful. See if you... If you could ever think of me in that way."
Hermione bit her tongue, tears springing to her eyes again. Of course she could think of him in that way. She already felt herself slipping into extremely murky emotional territory when it came to Draco, and it would probably take all of five minutes into a date for her to step right into the red zone... But she didn't want to give anyone the satisfaction. She was furious, she was exhausted, and the days of her being at the whim of a substance, or a person, or a fucking magical bond were over. She needed to slow this thing down and give herself time to reflect before she agreed to anything.
And she knew exactly where to go.
"Let me think about it, Draco," she said, trying to keep her voice calm as she felt the sobs start to rake up her lungs. "But first, I need some space."
"Come on Hermione... No bloke alive wants to hear that," he said, trying to joke. She could see the fear in his eyes. Her heart pined for him, a creeping, aching pain infiltrating her chest, but she knew what she had to do.
"Please don't do this," he begged, seeing the conflicting emotions playing out on her face. She was right on the edge. She could go either way. "Please don't leave me."
The tears spilled down her cheeks as she made her decision. "I'm sorry, Draco," she whispered. "Please don't look for me." She turned on the spot and disapparated.
"YOU!" boomed Draco's voice in the hallway.
All the portraits murmured and whispered to each other in a flurry of worry. Lucius and Narcissa were already standing in front of the portrait with looks of deep concern on their faces. Draco stomped past the whispers and rounded on the portrait of the young Narcissa, fuming. To her credit, the portrait looked horrified.
"Where the fuck do you get off scaring her off like that?" he demanded, his cheeks flushed angrily.
"I didn't realize!" she said. "I just got excited! I mean, who doesn't want to be a Malfoy? I didn't expect her to react so badly!"
"Let me tell you something about Hermione Granger," Draco said, his voice simmering. "She is the single most stubborn woman I've ever met. If she decides to take a year or two 'think things over,' she damn well will. Now she's disappeared and she's asked me not to look for her. If she never comes back and you have lost her for me, I will personally put you in storage in the dungeons if I haven't already set you on fire."
"Draco!" said the real Narcissa. "I know you're upset, but this is my portrait we are talking about!"
"Mother, don't cross me right now, I swear to God," Draco snapped.
"Perhaps you can tell us a bit more about what she said to you," Lucius said to the portrait, calmly. "I don't think any of us wish a lifetime of crushing loneliness on Draco."
"Thanks, father," Draco muttered.
"She said she had to weigh her options," said the portrait, panicked. "She showed me a scar on her arm... Said being a Malfoy meant having a lack of compassion... She said she won't be called a Malfoy unless it's her choice to do so... Oh, she was so upset."
Lucius sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "The scar never healed? The one from Bella?"
"Red and awful as ever," said the portrait. "Really quite horrible."
"Damn," he whispered.
"There's something else, too. Right before she ran off, she said, 'I will not change myself to suit the family.'"
Lucius's eyes snapped open. "That's it!"
"What's it?" said Narcissa.
Lucius smiled to himself and steepled his hands. "Miss Granger has just found out that she's fated to belong to a family that has not treated her, or others, very well in the past. We need to prove that this is a family she wants to belong to. We need to change the family to suit her."
"And how do we do that?" Draco said, exasperated. "She's got a point. We're professional bullies. We tend not to like anyone. Hermione likes everything that moves. She's a bloody Gryffindor."
"Leave that part to me," Lucius said. "I think you'll find that being good at bad things has its advantages."
"May I ask what you're planning?" said Narcissa, curiously.
"It's a surprise," he said, kissing her hand. "Draco, I know it will be difficult, but return to the business and try to operate as normal. I'm confident Miss Granger will come back in due time."
"And you base that on what, exactly? Blind faith?" Draco growled. "Very fucking encouraging. I'll return to the business, but I'm not harbouring any illusions about Hermione coming back anytime soon. Unlike you two, I actually know her." He turned and marched off, muttering under his breath.
"Do I need to be worried about where you're going?" Narcissa asked Lucius when Draco was out of sight.
"Not at all," he smiled. "Just going to visit an old friend."
"You don't have old friends, Lucius," said Narcissa, straightening his collar.
"Fine. A colleague then. Just play along, darling," he said. "I lost the wager, and now I have to make a gesture of good faith for the girl. I think you'll approve of what I'm planning to do."
"I have no doubt," she replied. "But what I'm more concerned about is whether or not the girl will come back. Draco doesn't seem to believe she will."
"The process has started," Lucius said. "She is already falling in love with Draco, whether or not she's figured it out. If she stays away, she will only torture herself and her beloved. That would be an illogical way to deal with the situation."
"Lucius, she is a Gryffindor. Everything they do is illogical. Following their hearts or some nonsense."
"Please don't remind me," he said, sounding pained. "But to answer your question, yes I believe she will come back."
"Before or after Draco succumbs to crippling heartbreak?" she asked, pointedly.
"I suppose that's the question, isn't it?" he sighed.