A/N: I cannot find the words to say how sorry I am for leaving you hanging so long. Real life got in the way unexpectedly for a long time, but the good news is that all the drama is over now, so I finally have time to write again! Yay! As part of my apology, I have a whopping 21 pages for you to peruse at your leisure. In other news, an irritated reviewer has kindly asked me to refrain from responding to reviews in the chapter itself. I see no harm in acquiescing, so I will be responding to reviews via PMs from now on. If I come across a Guest I really want to respond to...well, I don't know. I'll decide when it happens. To those of you who mentioned Narcissa's contradicting behaviour, you are not imagining things. That was entirely intentional, and is finally explained at the end of the chappie!
Now that's settled, on with the show!
~~~\~~~
Step 13: Setting the Stage
Now that you're inextricably linked to the Malfoy family for all eternity, as the vain gits would never allow themselves to die out or be forgotten (no matter how much the rest of society wishes the meddling buggers would), marriage is the next logical step. What nobody else will tell you is that this next logical step will take approximately five years to occur.
But, you say, Malfoys are notorious for incredibly short engagements! Why yes, it certainly seems that way, doesn't it? Except the entire family has been deceiving the rest of us for centuries because of those bloody libraries. The library is the true engagement ring. The band of silver with a big enough diamond to drown you in a lake is merely a courtesy for the rest of society just before the wedding. Because, to the Malfoys, a 500,000 galleon ring bought on a whim just as they are about to announce the engagement publicly is just as necessary as listening to your nosey mother-in-law lecture how inappropriate it is to wear certain colors during certain seasons. It is irritating, but must be suffered. In all honesty, they would rather skip the ring altogether and build erotic statues of themselves and their bride-to-be as a testament to their pride and insatiable desire to make other people as uncomfortable as possible in their presence, physical or metaphorical.
But I digress. Now that you've captured the heart of the son, you must now win over his parents. And by 'win over his parents', I mean you must show them that you are beautiful, cunning, and witty via lots of double entendres and veiled insults, whilst calmly sipping tea, pinky finger out, as a proper Malfoy wife does.
~~~\~~~
The next day, after a temporary mouth-freshening charm and a round of lazy morning sex in bed, Hermione was basking in the afterglow and did not particularly feel up to opening the window. But the owl incessantly pecked on the glass and Draco was in the shower, so her annoyance finally won out. She reluctantly dragged herself out of the most comfortable cocoon ever and stumbled her way to the window.
A tawny owl she didn't recognize perched long enough for her to remove the message from its leg and then soared off, clearly not needing an answer. Hermione closed the window automatically because Draco hated leaving them open (he claimed the draft was uncomfortable and cooling charms rendered it completely unnecessary), her full attention on the letter that bore her name in a uniform, printed font.
She turned the envelope over and held her breath as she noticed the wax seal of a wand and bone crossed, the insignia of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
She slowly peeled open the parchment envelope and slid out the letter inside, carefully setting the former down on the sill. The latter she unfolded with shaky hands. What if her recipe was useless? What if it was a one-time anomaly? What if she had been too late and someone else had already created it before her? All that time and energy, wasted...
Dear Miss Hermione Granger,
We at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries are pleased to inform you
Hermione let out her breath, feeling excitement and pride fill the place her anxiety had just vacated. It had worked! It had passed the preliminary tests!
She quickly read the rest of the surprisingly short letter, which stated that they would shortly begin testing on living subjects since her potion had passed the theoretical safety tests with flying colors. It also mentioned she could obtain a copy of all the tests performed and the results by dropping in personally, which she planned to do the next time she was out.
The sound of running water stopped, and a minute later the bathroom door opened.
"Who's that from?" Draco asked suspiciously.
Hermione whipped around, unable to control a large grin. "St. Mungo's. My potion passed!"
His expression instantly relaxed into a confident smirk.
"Of course it did. You're Hermione bloody Granger. You can't do anything wrong to save your life."
She felt her mood dampen just a tad at his unenthusiastic response, despite the compliment, but her grin didn't budge. She felt exceedingly accomplished.
A lone water droplet fell from a lock of his hair and ran down his nose, past his lips and chin, across the planes of his chest and was finally absorbed into the knotted towel at his waist. Her eyes lingered on his naked skin like they always wanted to, and she couldn't help but feel like she shouldn't, if only because he loved teasing her about his irresistibility.
"You're staring again," he said amusedly.
Her eyes snapped back up to his face. "If you don't like it, then I suggest you cover yourself up."
He sauntered over, smirking wider. "I never said I didn't like it." He plucked the letter from her hands and set it down with the envelope, his eyes never leaving hers. "As it happens, I enjoy watching my witch ogle me."
"Your ego enjoys it, you mean," she corrected, smiling for a much different reason now.
"I am my ego," he countered, wrapping his arms around her bare waist and pulling her up against him.
"Only partially. There's also your id and superego..."
Draco interrupted her lecture with a kiss of salacious intent.
His touch only just reminded her that she was still entirely naked from earlier, but she didn't feel embarrassed or shy at all. How could she be, when Draco seemed ready to throw her back onto the bed and render his shower a complete waste of time and water? Her body warmed as her imagination provided recent memories to present a very plausible prediction of what she could be doing five minutes from now. Her own id, ego, and superego were in unanimous agreement.
She took a moment to feel how perfect this was, her mind, body, and soul in harmony, all desiring the same person. She finally had him. Any obstacles were forgotten as she kissed him back passionately, pouring her elation and want into him, filling him up because she didn't think she could handle feeling any more emotion. Her hands ripped the towel off of his hips, dropping it thoughtlessly to the floor, then urged him backward until he was lying on the bed with her atop him.
She hesitated at first, not knowing how to do what she wanted to do, before a memory appeared in her mind.
They were back in Morgana Manor, when she and Draco had slept in the same bed because she had been under the influence of the amplification potion. She had pounced on top of him and rubbed herself against him, sensually and determinedly, making him groan with want.
She channeled that confidence, remembering the feeling of complete abandonment, the desire to dominate, the concentrated lust that had flowed through her. The difference this time was, she didn't want to tease, but treasure. She wanted to show him how much she loved him and she wanted him to feel it.
So she moved slowly, sliding her body against his and he groaned in the exact same way as she remembered. His arms constricted her tightly, ensuring there was zero space between them. He tried to increase the pace of their kissing, but she didn't let him, eliciting a frustrated grunt from him. She paid him no mind, splitting her attention only between keeping the pace and feeling him.
The tightness of his embrace prevented her from her next goal, so she slid down his body a bit, forcing his arms to widen so she could fit. He complied reluctantly and frowned when she used the opening to sit up completely.
She smiled reassuringly and ground against his burgeoning erection, immediately silencing any imminent protests. When she knew they were ready, she lifted her body and glided a hand along his shaft. His hands squeezed her thighs appreciatively, making her smile, pleased that he was enjoying this so far. She slowly slid down on him until he was fully sheathed. His grip on her tightened, but his moan assured her he wasn't complaining in the least.
His eyelids fluttered open and his gaze stole her breath. It was the most intense look she'd ever seen, but only because the emotion behind it was new. It wasn't the sort of intensity as when he was pounding her into the mattress or the floor. He was attentive. He was completely present in the moment, waiting for her to show him how to love her and be loved.
How to make love.
So she moved, slowly and deliberately, using pace, intensity, and eye contact to speak instead of words. He followed her lead, always watching her underneath heavy lids, but clearly awed by the power of it. Their tacit communication allowed them to plan, to release simultaneously, and Hermione swore she had a momentary out-of-body experience in the best way possible.
She collapsed on top of him and he embraced her, catching her as she fell.
They remained like that for several minutes before he rolled them over and started slowly thrusting again, showing her what he had learned. They made love again and again, pausing only when absolutely necessary to nap or use the bathroom.
They hardly left the bed all day, let alone the room, as Draco had Mipsy bring them food while Hermione was using the bathroom to maintain some level of hygiene.
Several times already she had attempted to lecture him on unnecessary uses for house elves when they were perfectly capable of walking downstairs to the kitchen, but he interrupted her every time.
"I love you, Hermione," he'd say before kissing her and leading into another round.
She knew what he was doing. He was shocking her into silence on purpose, but she couldn't bring herself to be angry about it because he showed her how much he loved her, so she allowed him to draw her back into bliss each and every time.
~~~\~~~
"Just one more day, Hermione, that's all," Draco wheedled persuasively from the bed.
She allowed her eyes to linger on his bare chest through the vanity mirror before rolling them.
"That's what you've said for the past two days. Enough is enough, Draco," she admonished, fighting a particularly difficult snarl with her hairbrush.
"You'll never get enough of me," he boasted confidently. "Now come back to bed so I can remind you why."
"No. I've already stayed in that bed far too long. I haven't been productive at all for the last week. I need to do something."
She watched his naked reflection slide out of bed, stalk over to her, and bend down to brush his lips tantalizingly along her ear. His gaze caught hers in the mirror and she licked her lips, amazed that her insides still tensed and quivered whenever he stood so close. She still hadn't decided if she loved or hated that he consistently slept in the nude these days. He claimed it was selflessly for her benefit, but she had her doubts. On the one hand, it was rather lovely waking up to something so beautiful. On the other hand, it was torture when she had to fight off temptation that stared her in the face so often.
"I can think of many productive things to do that don't require leaving the house," he smirked seductively.
She rolled her eyes again. "You truly are insatiable. I honestly think you need professional help."
"Why bother when you enjoy it so thoroughly?" he countered.
She narrowed her eyes just a bit. "Because your idea of fun is finding new ways to break the furniture with strenuous activity."
He grinned. "You can't tell me it isn't. Besides, we just repair it afterwards."
"I'm still not convinced it's just as sturdy after repairing the same sage chaise lounge five times."
"Our favorite sex sofa has to have character, doesn't it? It wants to be special."
She sighed. "It's inanimate, Draco. It doesn't feel anything!"
"You tell me all the time that house elves have feelings."
She turned around to glare at him. "Of course they have feelings!"
"So why can't our sex sofa?"
She opened her mouth to call him an idiot when his amused smirk tipped her off.
"No, I'm not doing this again. You are not going to draw me into another pointless argument just to make me forget what I was doing. I'm going back home today and you can't stop me."
"Really, Granger, you should know better than to present such a delicious challenge," he chastised.
"I have no idea what you mean," she obstinately denied, even though she sort of did agree with him. Challenging Draco on anything was like holding a frantic rat in front of a hungry python. But such was the fatal flaw of vain men.
"You know exactly what I mean," he scoffed, "and that is precisely why you're making these threats. You like playing hard to get."
She shot up from her chair, twisted around, and crossed her arms across her chest. "I do not!"
Draco laughed. "Yes, you do."
"Do not!" she exclaimed louder, dropping her brush on the table and stepping around the chair to meet him face to face.
"Do."
"Do not!"
"Do."
"Do not!"
"Then why haven't you left yet?" Draco challenged knowingly.
Hermione blinked, her anger morphing into confusion.
"You've been ready for about ten minutes, choosing to spend an inordinate amount of time attempting to tame your hair, which you already know will not cooperate. You've been stalling so that I could stop you from leaving."
The brunette scoffed. "I have not! But it doesn't matter because I'm leaving right now!"
Just as she strode close enough to grab the door handle, Draco caught up with her. He flattened his front against her back, one hand on her waist to hold her in place and the other pressed against the door to prevent it from opening.
"See, Granger? You're stalling," he taunted silkily.
With a loud growl, she flipped around and backed up to get out of his grip, but he merely followed until her back was pushed up against the door. She opened her mouth to shout at him, but his lips cut her off and his tongue skillfully distracted her until they ran out of oxygen.
She came up for air a little dazed, trying to remember what they had been arguing about. His kiss was clearly the only reason she could tolerate him for extended periods of time. Nobody else made her actually forget things like he did. Even he couldn't deny that the only way anyone could stand him for so long was if they frequently forgot how much of a git he was.
She lost her train of thought again as Draco's mouth played with her neck and his hands stroked her body, which was already heating up in preparation. Judging by the urgency in his movements, this was heading straight for the bed, and she hadn't a single complaint.
Until her head fell back against the door too hard, giving her lover better access to her neck, but the jolt of pain ended up reminding her that she had been trying to get out of said door before the sneaky prat had distracted her.
She was currently in no position to open the door that their combined body weight was keeping closed, so she waited until her lover's urges inevitably got the better of him. When he finally let up, pulling her with him, she took the lead, pushing him toward the bed and then actually shoving him onto it.
He smirked up at her invitingly, and she hesitated for just a moment, considering letting herself finish what he started, but then realized that he'd just do it all over again and keep her occupied all day if she let him. She had to escape while she still had the functional mental facilities to do so.
"See you later! Love you!" She suddenly dashed to the bedroom door and slammed it shut behind her.
~~~\~~~
Hermione let herself into 12 Grimmauld Place, softly closed the door, and slumped against the back of it. She felt terribly guilty about leaving her boyfriend so hot and bothered like that, and not even her rationalizations helped stem the tide. So she took a few moments to collect herself, surprised that she had been able to muffle her own libido's protests long enough to apparate safely.
She had done the right thing. Draco's jealous and possessive nature would keep her locked up forever if she didn't set some ground rules and enforce them. It was tough love. It had to be done. He had to learn that he couldn't keep her all to himself.
Far away laughter startled her out of her musings, allowing her to focus on the present. She was going to visit with Harry and Ginny and have a great time. Draco would just have to deal with it.
She strode down the hall and pushed open the kitchen door, stopping confusedly when she spotted two heads of red hair instead of just one.
Ginny and Harry, who were facing the door, grinned even wider than they had been.
"What're you looking at?" the third person said to them before turning around.
"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed happily.
"Hermione!" He grinned back and stood up, grabbing her around the waist and swinging her around in a circle. He pecked her on the cheek, which startled her even more. When had he become so familiar with females? He had never even kissed his sister on the cheek before!
"Ron, look at you!" Her eyes zoomed all over his figure, which had visibly toned up so that he looked much more normal than lanky. "You look great!"
He blushed predictably, but moved past it by puffing out his chest in a spot-on impression of his boastful brother Percy. "I know," he replied cheekily.
They all laughed.
She sat down in an empty chair while Ron caught her up to speed with everything he had told his sister and her fiancé. Unfortunately, Ron's team, the Chudley Cannons, had been defeated in the play-off match, so they wouldn't be able to represent England for the Quidditch World Cup. Fortunately, she had only missed a lot of Quidditch jargon, so she was able to interrogate him about other things, like the places he had been able to visit.
"Blimey, Hermione! Is that all you care about? How many boring museums I could have popped into?" he asked in exasperation.
She huffed. "Museums aren't boring! They're quite fascinating I'll have you know-"
"Yeah, yeah. We know," he sighed, rolling his eyes. But then he grinned goofily at her again, and her anger melted away.
"Oh, Hermione!" Ginny burst out. "I've been meaning to ask you, can I borrow your Hogwarts, A History?"
Hermione frowned at the odd request, but nodded.
"Great! You boys keep talking. Hermione and I will just pop upstairs for a mo."
Ginny latched onto her arm and yanked her out of her seat, signaling the brunette to hurry the hell up and get out of the kitchen.
"Gin!" Hermione whispered. "What's wrong?"
Ginny led the way to the room the two girls had shared during the war, when Grimmauld had been home to almost the entire Order of the Phoenix. Only then did the redhead smirk at her best friend.
"So, everything worked out, then?"
Hermione blushed profusely. "I still don't know whether I'm mad at the lot of you or not."
Ginny chuckled. "Don't be. I never thought I'd see the day Draco Malfoy was concerned about your favorite color or what percentage of the library should be devoted to each subject."
Hermione blinked. "What? When did he ask you about that?"
"Do you remember that ball I went to that you decided to skip to go visit your parents?"
The brunette nodded.
"I met Blaise Zabini there and he recruited me. Malfoy had a bazillion questions about your preferences in a home that none of his friends could answer, so they persuaded me to help. By the way, I already told Harry, I hope you don't mind, because I knew that once Ron came back we'd need all the support we can get before the idiot blows his top off."
Hermione honestly didn't know if she minded. It was wrong that Harry had had to hear about her relationship with Draco second-hand, but Ginny was right. They needed Harry to calm Ron down when they inevitably told him.
"And?" she settled on asking, tentatively.
Ginny shrugged. "He wasn't as enthusiastic as I had been, of course. But since I'd spent a fair amount of time with the ferret by that point, I was able to vouch that no love potions were involved. He nearly had a heart attack when he heard what had happened at Hogwarts and everything since February-"
"GINNY!" Hermione choked in disbelief.
"Relax, Hermione. He just needed proof that Malfoy wasn't playing some sick joke on you, so I told him how long you two have really been going on, which unsettled him, sure, but he saw reason in the end. He's accepted it, really. He doesn't like it much, obviously, but he's not going to rip the git's head off if he happens to meet him on the street."
"Ginny," Hermione repeated weakly. Oh God. Now Harry knew about Graduation Eve, too. She hadn't wanted to tell anyone and now Harry knew, and that just sealed it that Ron himself was going to find out eventually. He was going to hate her!
Ginny rubbed her friend's back. "Don't worry, Hermione. I promise it'll be okay. Harry's fine with it and we don't have to tell Ron-"
The brunette shot her a look.
"Oh alright, yes, Harry will probably let it slip eventually, but he has enough self-control to wait until the big news has been dealt with. It'll all work itself out, you'll see."
Hermione sighed miserably. "I hope so, Gin."
"Now it's your turn. Tell me everything!" Ginny grinned mischievously.
Hermione groaned, hiding her blush behind her hands.
"After everything I've done for you Hermione Jean Granger, you'd think you'd be a little more appreciative!"
"Ginny," the brunette whined uncharacteristically.
"Oh no you don't, missy! You aren't getting out of this! I've been the best friend that you could ever ask for, who only cares about your happiness. Why don't you care about mine?" the redhead pouted.
"Fine, but I'm skipping all the sexual parts."
"Ooh, a lot of them, are there?" Ginny gushed.
Hermione sighed, but couldn't help smiling a little. It felt good to be a little girly sometimes.
~~~\~~~
When Ginny finally released Hermione from her interrogation, the two traveled back down to the kitchen, unsurprised to find the boys talking of Quidditch...or something like it.
"So then the idiot tries to tug it out, but the bush just tangled it up more, until Moriarty walks over, picks up a twig, pokes the branch, and the broom just falls out. Then he goes, 'Tha's a broomstick-eatin' bush, McKinnon. Yeh got ta know 'ow ta poke 'er!'
The females shared an unimpressed look while the males laughed uproariously. Honestly, men could be so juvenile.
Ginny loudly cleared her throat and the boys calmed down.
"Done?" Harry asked.
Ginny nodded, sitting back down next to her fiancé, which Hermione took as a cue to sit back down herself.
"So, Ron, what do you think you're going to do now? Practice for next season doesn't start for a bit, right?" she inquired.
Ron nodded. "Yeah, I reckon I'm going to just relax. That's the best part of playing Quidditch. No homework!"
Hermione rolled her eyes, but a tap at the kitchen window caught their attention.
"Got it," said Harry, as he went over and opened the window.
A white owl with black and pale brown-streaked feathers flew in and landed cleanly on the table, directly in front of Hermione. It stuck out its leg haughtily, as if performing a royal service to the Queen. The brunette stared for a moment, not only because she recognized the endangered species, but because of its off-putting demeanor. It turned its head and gave her a condescending look when she failed to take the letter right away, so she hurried to remove its burden. As soon as the parchment was in her hands, it flew up and away, back out of the window.
Harry closed it after the owl and took his seat with a melancholy expression. It took a moment for Hermione to realize he was reminded of Hedwig, his beloved snowy owl who had been killed during the war.
"What is it?" Ron asked curiously.
"What does it look like, Ron?" Ginny asked snarkily, rubbing Harry's back comfortingly. "It's a letter."
"Oh! That reminds me! I received another letter earlier today!" She waited until all three of them were looking at her interestedly, especially Harry. "My potion is safe enough to test further, so they're going to experiment with live subjects!"
Her friends congratulated her with gusto, and she could tell they were truly happy for her. Even though she didn't like to openly toot her own horn, so to speak, it was much more gratifying to see such exuberance instead of Draco's mere lack of surprise.
"So what's this one say, then?" Ron persisted.
She frowned. "I don't know." She turned the letter over and her heart skipped a beat in apprehension. Her name written in elegant cursive on the front, combined with the instantly recognizable Malfoy seal on the back, could only mean one person: Narcissa Malfoy, her boyfriend's elitist and high maintenance mother.
Oh dear God. She had forgotten that Narcissa wanted to meet her.
"Hermione?" Harry asked concernedly.
"Why are you so pale?" Ron asked unhelpfully.
Ginny smacked her brother's arm. "Ron!"
"Well she is!" Ron protested.
Hermione swallowed. How could she answer without having to explain to Ron why Draco Malfoy's mother was writing her?
She procrastinated solving that dilemma by opening the envelope to get at the letter.
Miss Hermione Granger,
I cordially invite you to attend a private luncheon in order to be formally introduced, per the request of my son, Draco.
The included portkey will activate at precisely noon tomorrow.
You may keep the bracelet as a token of good faith, as I wish to disregard past unpleasantness and start anew.
Sincerely,
Lady Narcissa Black Malfoy
Hermione peered inside the envelope, and there was, indeed, a silver chainlink bracelet resting at the bottom. It seemed rather plain by Malfoy standards, but it was pretty in a simple way to her, and she was intrigued by the gesture. Perhaps Narcissa truly was going to give her a chance.
She stuffed the letter back into the envelope and looked up to see her friends silently begging for an answer to Ron's question.
"It's a lunch invitation from someone who heard about my potions research," she replied smoothly. Dear Merlin, Draco really was rubbing off on her. Then again, it was perfectly conceivable that Narcissa could have heard about it from Draco, so it didn't have to be a lie, per se.
Ron and Harry accepted it easily, debating which famous witch or wizard would make even Hermione Granger starstruck, but Ginny's worried eyes told her she knew exactly whom it was from.
~~~\~~~
The Great Hermione Granger, Celebrated Co-Defeater of Voldemort, War Heroine, Upcoming Potioneer, and Brightest Witch of Her Age, was hyperventilating into a paper bag, as her best female friend rubbed her back soothingly.
"You'll be fine, Hermione," Ginny said for the fiftieth time in two hours.
Hermione shook her head. She had purposefully stayed the night at Grimmauld Place, avoiding Draco, because she knew that her anticlimactic boyfriend was going to act like the impending meeting with his mother was nothing life-altering. But it meant everything to her.
Sure, Draco had started dating her without his mother's approval, but Hermione was in love with him now. She wanted to marry him some day, and she didn't want to do anything that would make his mother disapprove of the match. Hence, why she was currently freaking out that she would never live up to Narcissa's expectations of a proper girlfriend, let alone future-daughter-in-law.
The brunette finally removed the bag from her mouth.
"I'm not Malfoy-material, Gin! His mother is right. She's expecting him to settle down with a witch who is just as cold and manipulative as the rest of the family and I just can't be! You remember how scathing Draco could be in school. She's going to tear me to shreds in an instant!"
"If I remember correctly, which I do, you gave as good as you got back in school. I very much doubt that you won't be able to keep up, if she does try anything," Ginny stated confidently. "Who else could keep Draco Malfoy on his toes long enough to fall in love?"
Hermione shrugged, not sure what to say. She wanted to believe she was good enough, but felt like that would be impractically optimistic.
Ginny huffed. "Seriously, Hermione. Go put on the lovely dress I'm letting you borrow, put on that brave Gryffindor face, and go show her how you defeated Voldemort!"
"Harry defeated Voldemort; Ron and I just helped him get there."
"Same thing. Now go!" Ginny demanded.
Hermione sighed, but did as she was told, dragging herself into the hallway and then into the bathroom. She stared at the aforementioned lovely dress, hanging behind the bathroom door.
It was a pretty, emerald green dress, modest yet stylish. The shoulder straps were thick and formed a square neckline. The bunched empire waist gave it some detail, and the pleated skirt didn't restrict her legs, falling just above the knee.
Ginny also insisted she wear the matching emerald suede pumps, which seemed a little too much heel for her comfort, but she was afraid to magically alter it, lest she do something irreversible. Gin wouldn't let her borrow anything ever again if she ruined her clothing.
She donned the outfit and nervously fiddled with her hair, trying to decide if Lady Narcissa Black Malfoy would prefer she wear her hair up or down. Was there a hair-code for luncheons? She couldn't make her hair stay in a proper shape while up, so she let it all down again.
Ginny knocked on the door.
"Hermione, it's almost time!"
The brunette bit her lip, trying to calm her heart rate and failing. She felt like she was walking into a trap and had no idea what to expect. Damn Draco for forcing this on her so soon! He should have talked about his mother more, so she'd have some sort of idea...
But then again, she had slept here last night. She could have gone home and begged for his expertise. Instead, she had taken the coward's route and now she had to suffer the consequences.
She took a couple fortifying breaths, squared her shoulders, held her head high, and opened the door. What would happen, would happen. She just had to trust in her own intelligence and common sense.
She could do this.
Ginny helped put the silver bracelet on her wrist and fussed over her hair and dress.
Her friend's encouraging smile was last thing she saw before the portkey activated. She clutched her now emerald-colored beaded bag for dear life and prayed that she and Narcissa could "start anew" without throwing any hexes, or worse, unforgivable insults.
~~~\~~~
The first thing Hermione noticed when she regained her footing was that she was surrounded by a wall of tall hedges. Her eyes followed them and she concluded that she was in a sort of maze-like garden. She slowly walked forward, the only direction she could go, stumbling a bit as she wasn't quite used to wearing so high of a heel. When she felt like she had gotten the hang of it, she strode the rest of the way.
When she reached the corner, the maze opened up into a proper garden, with rows and rows of flowers and bushes. She suspected this was where Draco had gotten the idea for their garden. She fought the urge to wander down the rows, instead searching for Narcissa. This must be the location of the luncheon, as Hermione hoped his mother wasn't so cruel as to promise her only son to play nice and then stick his girlfriend in the middle of Merlin-knew-where.
It looked like there might be a clearing on the other side, so Hermione walked down the widest row and was rewarded with the sight of an ornate white patio table and two matching chairs. Narcissa sat in one, leisurely pouring two cups of tea.
Lady Narcissa Black Malfoy was a stunning woman, and was all the more intimidating for it. She wore baby blue robes, no doubt personally tailored, which highlighted her cerulean eyes. Her long, pale blonde hair flowed freely down her back and rippled as she moved.
Hermione did not consider herself a vain person, but as the older woman lifted her head and scanned her from head to toe, she felt embarrassingly ugly. She stamped down the sudden urge to run and hide, instead choosing to approach the table.
Narcissa stood and played the part of a gracious hostess.
"Thank you for coming. Shall we get the required niceties out of the way first? I am Lady Narcissa Black Malfoy, but you may call me Narcissa, as Mrs. Malfoy was my mother-in-law, and Mrs. Black-Malfoy is quite a mouthful. Draco insisted that I not force you to step foot inside the Manor proper, so I have set up a private space for us in a small section of my personal garden, where I hope you will feel comfortable enough."
Hermione was stunned at the odd mixture of formality and familiarity in the witch's speech, yet the peculiarity of it seemed to solidify her intimidating demeanor, as if Narcissa meant to keep her guessing. Not to mention that her brain threatened to malfunction while fathoming exactly how big this personal garden was.
"Thank you for inviting me, Narcissa. I am Hermione Granger, and you may call me Hermione. I thank you for taking into consideration your son's suggestion, as I do feel comfortable out here, among recognizable specimens."
Narcissa's lips quirked up on one side, a mere shadow of Draco's smirk, but Hermione could tell he inherited it at least partially from her.
"It is lovely to meet you, Hermione. Shall we sit? The tea has just been brought out, so it should be ready to drink momentarily."
The brunette nodded, sitting down nervously in the proffered seat.
"Now tell me," Narcissa began, "which is your favorite specimen that you see?"
It was quite the question, considering she'd hardly had any time to have a good look at everything. She scanned the rows quickly, her eyes landing on a curious lump of green vines and light green tendrils in the nearest row. It was curious because, the closer she looked, she started noticing more than one group of them among the rows.
"I think...the Flitterbloom plants are the most unexpected. Why are there so many of them? I'm counting at least two per row, and they're usually considered too dull to be part of such an exotic garden."
Narcissa smiled mysteriously, taking her first sip of tea. "For protection."
The brunette frowned, pouring the right amounts of cream and sugar into her tea. "Protection? But Flitterblooms are harmless."
The blonde's shadow-smirk widened just a bit. "Yes, they are," she agreed.
"So then how do they protect anything?"
"By doing what they do best," she replied cryptically.
Hermione's frown deepened, turning her head to stare at the specimen in question again.
"Their only notable feature is their resemblance to Devil's Snare." She stopped short, facing the elder witch again. "You don't honestly think anyone is going to confuse the two, when these plants are clearly in open air and get sunlight all day long, do you?"
She tried to keep her condescending tone to a minimum, but it had slipped out anyway.
Despite her fear, Narcissa's smirk turned fully amused. Draco definitely got his smirk from his mother.
"I find that those who envy my garden the most are not aware of the time and effort it takes to maintain it."
Hermione couldn't decide if she was more frustrated or intrigued by the way the blonde spoke, which was starting to remind her of Luna 'Loony' Lovegood. She could have simply said, 'people are dumber than you think,' but she hadn't.
Perhaps the elder witch was testing her reputed intelligence?
"But enough about trivial subjects," Narcissa said imperially, her mischievous expression switching to serious in a blink. "I'm sure you realize the main reason for this luncheon."
Yes, where exactly is the food? Hermione thought shrewdly. "I am dating your son."
The blonde dipped her head in acknowledgement. "And how long have you been doing so?"
The younger witch hesitated. When exactly had they decided to start dating? She hadn't accepted him as a boyfriend until the last couple weeks, but they had been physically together much longer than that. Had they completely skipped the dating-but-not-boyfriend-girlfriend phase? Or was having copious amounts of sex considered dating?
"He never mentioned it to you? That he was seeing anyone?" she deflected instead.
"No, he never said a word about you," the other witch responded callously.
Hermione mentally narrowed her eyes. It was almost as if Narcissa were trying to provoke a reaction, trying to test her to see what made her tick. Well, she was about to do some testing of her own, then.
"Not a word? To his own mother?" she asked in shock. "I told my parents immediately. Then again, they are much more open-minded about these things than most parents, so I can understand his hesitation to reveal me to you."
She took a sip of tea, careful to imitate the way Narcissa was holding her own cup, to hide her pleasure at coming up with such a quick response.
The elder witch raised a sculpted eyebrow. "Are they really? I suppose it is much easier for them to accept untraditional options for their child in their position. That is one luxury I do not possess."
And there it was. The first of probably many references to the 'inferiority' of Muggles.
"Perhaps if you met them, you might find they aren't quite as different from you as you imagine them to be," Hermione retorted, thinking about her father's reaction to her news about Draco. His sneer when he had remembered what she had told him about Draco's parents had been ironically worthy of a Malfoy.
Narcissa let out a tinkling, condescending laugh. "What a sense of humour you have."
The brunette couldn't stop herself from scowling, so she quickly hid her lips behind another sip of tea.
"What of this potion you've developed with Morwena? Have you heard from St. Mungo's?" the other witch continued, oblivious to Hermione's stiff expression.
The younger witch almost laughed. It looked like her response to Harry and Ron hadn't been a lie after all. That eased her conscience just a little.
"Just yesterday, actually. It has been deemed worthy to move onto the next phases of testing."
"I congratulate you, then. It must have taken much effort to invent such a contribution."
Hermione's steadily rising dislike jumped up a few notches at the disguised insult. "Thank you, but it truly wasn't that difficult."
The way Narcissa smiled politely and said, "Of course," made her realize that her familiarity with Draco's insults had not prepared her for Narcissa's.
Draco's insults were like a battering ram - blunt, powerful, and shocking to the core, intending to stun his opponent into submission. Narcissa's were like poison in a sweetened cup of tea, tricking her opponent into drinking it with civility, and then dropping a hint to make them question what they had just drank as their body went into shock.
Hermione stared at her tea, contemplating if the other witch was hateful enough to actually poison her.
"Is there an issue, Hermione?" the blonde asked with fake concern.
She shook her head. No, she trusted that Narcissa would not provoke her only son's wrath by poisoning his girlfriend. A mother would have nothing to gain from alienating her own son like that.
So, the brunette put on a smile. "Not at all, Narcissa. I just miss Draco is all. We're not used to being so long apart from each other now that we live together."
The elder witch tilted her head slightly, innocently. "I was not aware your relationship had progressed so far in such a short time."
Hermione did not appreciate being called a slag, but did her best to purse her lips only inside her head.
She soothed her anger by replying sweetly. "It hasn't been that short of a relationship. One could say it started back in Hogwarts." Sure, she was stretching the truth, but Hermione wanted to give Narcissa a taste of her own medicine, to make her wonder how long her son had been keeping secrets from her.
The blonde's reply was cut off by her son approaching her from behind.
***/***
"Mother, what is-" Draco took note of Hermione sitting casually in the seat across from his mother, sipping tea with her pinky finger extended. She looked the very paragon of a purebred daughter enjoying afternoon tea, and he was slightly afraid what his mother had done to his girlfriend in such a short time.
"Mother," he repeated, anger lacing his tone.
She looked up to meet his stern gaze with an innocent expression. "Yes, Darling?"
"I thought I had asked you to refrain from requesting she enter these grounds," he demanded stiffly.
"No, Darling. You merely mentioned it would be unwise to ask her to enter the manor itself. You said nothing of the grounds. But she has already told me she feels quite...at home...around the garden."
He saw Hermione's eyes flash in the corner of his vision, and he knew she had picked up on the insult. He almost wished she hadn't, but then realized that she would have to be less intelligent for that to be true. He decided he preferred an insulted Hermione to an idiot Hermione.
"Nobby!"
The house elf appeared to his mistress' summons and bowed low.
"An extra chair for my son is required. Please, Draco, do sit. Hermione and I were just about to eat."
By her tone, it was not a negotiable request, so Draco sat when Nobby brought the chair and disappeared again.
A couple minutes passed while a couple more elves apparated to set up lunch, despite that it was far past noon.
Draco couldn't decide if he wanted to reprimand his mother in front of Hermione or not. Clearly, the elder witch was playing games and Draco did not appreciate at all that he had known nothing about their meeting from either side. Speaking of which, the next thing he would do would be reprimanding Hermione for leaving him in the state she had and not coming home to him at all.
To be perfectly honest, he was quite cross with both of them. If he had ignored his mother's owl to come visit her, he wouldn't have ever known about this at all.
Bloody witches and their secrets.
The three of them ate quietly, but he was getting more impatient the longer the silence dragged.
He told himself he'd wait another minute before demanding answers from somebody when his mother started up another conversation.
She dabbed at the corner of her lips with her silk napkin before she spoke.
"Hermione, I do adore that color on you. Wherever did you find the dress?"
Draco almost winced. Now his mother's claws were extending in full. She only asked about clothing when she was ready to tear at a woman's confidence and fashion sense until it was shredded beyond recognition. It was a pureblood female's worst nightmare.
Hermione shrugged casually. "I didn't."
His mother's lips just barely hid her smirk. "Whatever do you mean?"
His girlfriend looked up from her food and took her time swallowing.
"I didn't find it. I borrowed it from a friend."
Draco winced.
His mother frowned sympathetically, but he knew she was inwardly preening at forcing the brunette to admit such an embarrassment.
"Oh, you poor dear! I had no idea you were at such a disadvantage! Draco, you should have warned me. I would have sent some robe change along with my invitation."
Draco opened his mouth to defend his girlfriend when said girlfriend reminded him she could do that all by herself.
"Narcissa, that wouldn't have been necessary. It seems you are under the false impression that I am pressed for finances, when I am actually not at all. Your invitation was very short notice, is all. I simply didn't have time to buy a new dress."
"I thought I gave you an entire day to arrange something to wear."
"Oh, you did. But I was visiting with my friends, you see, at the time I received your letter, and they insisted that I stay a while longer. Before I knew it, all the shops had closed, and so my friend, Ginny Weasley, generously offered to lend me one of her dresses. We are very close that way."
Draco stared in shock. His mother was pressing her lips together in the way she did only when she was extremely upset or extremely pleased, and he didn't think she was happy about being embarrassed in such a way. He also didn't think he'd ever heard anyone insult her by implying she didn't have any friends. Of course, the most insulting thing of all was the realization that she had complimented a garment owned by a Weasley.
It pleased him immensely that he had managed to snag a witch brilliant enough to outsmart his own mother. As such, he didn't bother to hide his proud smirk.
While he was tempted to let his mother try to save her dignity, only to get outmaneuvered yet again, he figured she had suffered enough. She disliked being mistaken just as much as Hermione did, and she had clearly been mistaken about the muggle-born witch.
"Do you still have any objections to her, Mother?" Draco asked slyly.
"Only one, Darling," she answered. "How are you so sure she isn't another one of...them?"
Despite the ambiguity of the pronoun, it couldn't have been clearer that she meant the gold-digging bints that salivated over his body and his money like nifflers.
Apparently, Hermione had taken enough abuse and abruptly stood, her eyes boring into his mother's.
"For your information, I am perfectly financially stable without anyone's help. I would never choose to date anyone based off of their financial status. I am in love with your son and he is in love with me! Whether you approve or not, you cannot change these facts!"
The possessive ending to her rant made Draco want to kiss her and prove to her just how right she was, hopefully with more than just kissing. They were inextricably bound together by their mutual attraction and he prayed to Merlin that it forever stayed that way. He always laughed when she called him insatiable, but he wondered if she had any inkling as to the true extent of his need for her.
She was the most addictive drug he had ever indulged in. He could completely saturate himself in her scintillating presence, her lusty moans, her burning touch, and her velvet insides, but he was only ever sated temporarily. For the entire month of March, he had kept expecting that one morning he would wake up and realize he was tired of her, that she was suddenly less attractive and more like a harpy.
But that had never happened. So many months later, he was even more addicted to her than he had been before. Every morning that he woke up to her, she seemed more beautiful. The way she sleepily snuggled into the duvet was even more adorable. The way her breasts heaved with every angry breath only got sexier. The urge to silence her lectures with a kiss grew exponentially.
Scarily enough, at this point, he didn't think he could survive without her by his side. The agony of emotional and physical withdrawal would be so acute, so deep, so everlasting...even thinking about her absence made his insides ache.
"Is it true?" his mother finally demanded, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Are you in love with her?"
For the first time in a very long time, he didn't even consider lying to his mother, for any reason whatsoever. The word flowed out of his mouth as easily as air when he exhaled.
"Yes."
He held her suspicious gaze for what seemed like ten minutes before she finally sighed.
But it wasn't a sigh of exasperation, or disappointment, or even exhaustion. It was a sigh of...relief?
He frowned, and noticed his girlfriend stare at the elder witch with confusion as well. His Hermione didn't miss a thing.
His mother smiled with triumph, and Draco considered whether he ought to rush her to St. Mungo's. Had the news of her pureblood son loving a muggle-born caused her mind to snap?
"Mother...?" he asked cautiously.
But she ignored him. She stood up and quickly walked around the table to stand in front of Hermione, who was still standing after her mini-rant.
Lady Narcissa Black Malfoy took the hand of Hermione Granger in both of hers, which shocked his girlfriend into staying silent with wide eyes.
"Please forgive me, Hermione. You must understand, I had to be sure that it was truly you, and that Draco was truly in love before I could agree to the match. I learned long ago not to trust a witch's intentions with my son when he started maturing. Polyjuice, Amortentia, Glamours, and many more tactics have been tried to win his inheritance. I had to be sure."
Hermione nodded dumbly, lost in her own thoughts.
"There was Revealing Potion mixed in with the food," she realized aloud.
It all made sense now. His mother had been pretending to obstinately disapprove because he had admitted his attachment to Hermione so suddenly. Of course she had been suspicious that another ambitious witch had dug her claws into him. She had met the muggle-born privately to test her alone, and then purposefully waited for him to arrive so they could all eat together. That way she could see firsthand if anything wore off or if either of them acted any differently from the removal of any enchantments.
His mother smiled. "I see Draco has not overestimated your intelligence."
Hermione blushed, but Draco smirked triumphantly for her. "Told you so, Mother."
~~~\~~~
A/N2: What do you think? I know it's probably not worth waiting 3 months for (sorry again!) but I should be able to get back to a reasonable updating schedule now. To continue our little word game, give me a food, something red, and a body part. Go! Until next time, my lovelies!