~ Part One of The Manor ~

The very first thing Draco noticed walking into the distastefully large Greystone Manor was the grimace on his father's face. Salvatore himself had answered the door, no presence of servants nor security; they were to keep their wands. Immediately, he was introducing himself and Theodore Nott as uncle and nephew to Hermione. Hermione, who had her arm linked in his.

Lucius was standing tall with Narcissa and Ramona, both dazzling in their respective mauve and scarlet robes, by the grand staircase. Ramona, like Salvatore, was stunning. A blunt raven bob with sapphire irises, she was svelte in a muscular way. Captivating and intimidating you just as he did in her demeanour.

If she hadn't known the truth, Hermione would've absolutely let Salvatore treat her the way Arran had at his party. She might've even genuinely flirted. Luckily, Nott was gazing up and down her body, tilting his head and staring at her cleavage to keep her from slipping. As he shook her hand, he grinned.
"I don't believe we've actually formally met. You know I always tried to avoid this one in school," he chuckled, nudging into Draco as if they were now best mates. "Theodore Nott."

Tact should've been her middle name as she ignored his leering, replying with a coy grin. "A peasure. And you know, I did too. Funny that," and she looked at Draco, who found himself smirking.

"Now Hermione, I'd love for you to meet my partner Ramona. However, she's chatting with Draco's parents. He mustv've informed you that I invited them. Have you met them yet?"

"I- yes, I have. But I have not seen them since…not since I was about 17."
Fear took over for a split second, he could feel her hand tighten around her pocket. Entwining his fingers around hers, brushing much too close to her hips, she froze.

"I don't think that it would be a pleasant idea for Hermione to interact with my father, Salvatore, he hasn't exactly treated her or her friends with respect."

Her heart skipped a small beat as she lost herself for a moment to gape at him.
"Well at one time, I have gathered, Draco – neither did you," he whispered, chilling them to the bone. "Now, please, I insist. Time has passed, everyone can be civil. This is a party!"

Watching Draco grind his teeth, she made a grandiose gesture of patting him on the chest, nodding with a smile and serving him a look: "Don't worry dear, I'm sure it will be just fine."

"That's the spirit!" And his face lit up, leading them over. "Wonderful, now if you'll see, just outside of the parlour beside that fire is our grand ballroom where we have set up dinner for everyone in a few minutes. We thought that braised lamb with endive would be simply marvellous and…"

Nott wandered off to the other guests, all complete strangers to them, most likely to procure a drink or three.

"I forgot your parents would be here," she confessed as quiet as possible, seeing the expressions they held as they trailed Salvatore closer and closer.

"I was so focused on damage control with Potter and friends this week that I didn't even remember how much he hurt you. I'm – I'm –"

Struggling to place blame on the only people who probably cared about him, she said, "I don't blame you. I'm not fifteen anymore."

"A pleasure it is, to see you once again, Draco."
It was Ramona, perfect teeth shining at them. Trying to place an accent, it was a curiosity Hermione needed an answer to.

"And you, Ramona. This is – "

"Hermione Granger," she tittered, "As if I wouldn't know. Your reputation precedes you; it is nice to finally meet a real hero of the war," she bit lovingly, almost predatory in her inflection. Lucius and Narcissa's eyes bulged, but they did not remove their fake grins.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," Hermione responded, taking her shot as their hands met. "I love your accent, by the way. Are you from Spain? I've always wanted to go."

It was so natural a delivery, Draco fought to raise his brows. Noticed the slight change in Ramona's stance as she gave her reply: "Thank you, my accent is actually Portuguese, hard to tell the difference. I'm Brazilian."

"Oh, lovely. And did you attend Castelobruxo? I've heard it's quite impressive."

"Mm, yes, that's actually where we met, Hermione. See, my father is Portuguese and we moved to Sao Paolo for a few years as he was a practicing Auror during my formative years. The day I met her on campus, I knew she was special," Salvatore interrupted, wrapping an arm lightly around her shoulders. "Speaking of fathers, Draco how rude not to reintroduce your girlfriend to your parents, tsk tsk."

Hermione was more intrigued by the hosts dynamic than the anxiety bubbling in her stomach as she faced one of the worst men she knew. Draco was right in saying Salvatore and Ramona were most definitely not a couple, but literal partners. Even Draco's parents, who were incredibly reserved, had some kind of subtle chemistry, but these two…the air was off.

Moreover, what were they hiding?

"Girlfriend?"
Draco had heard that low tone a thousand times before. When his father has criticized him for getting lower marks than a Muggle-born, when he couldn't become friends with Harry Potter, when after a tenth try, he wasn't able to successfully block out Bellatrix's legilimency.
Somehow, tonight, it felt like enough.

"Yes, Father; girlfriend. Mother," Draco acknowledged, reluctantly allowing Narcissa to embrace him lightly as she stepped forward. "You've met Hermione."

"Why yes, very briefly though. I'm Draco's mother, Narcissa."
She didn't extend and arm, and neither did dear old dad.

"Hi. Draco, would you be a dear and fetch me some white wine? Or scotch, actually, neat? I'd love to talk some more to Ramona, hear all about school overseas."

"I – Certainly."

"Make that two," Ramona added, following Hermione away from his parents to sit on the fountain edge that was at the base of the steps.

Hermione watched as he sauntered away, nervousness gnawing away at her as she kept composure with this very dangerous witch.

"Tell me now, Hermione. I have heard many a thing about you these past few years, but having moved here from South America, one doesn't always know what is fiction. Is it true you broke into Gringotts's? That you Infiltrated the Ministry of Magic?"

"It is."
The manner in which Ramona held her gaze was unsettling. There was almost no shadow of a doubt in her head that she was hoping to find some tell of a lie.

"Please, enlighten me."

Meanwhile, Draco found himself pouring the aged drink into a glass at the well stocked self-serve bar next to Theodore. Theodore, who was taking shot after shot of vodka, sour.

"And what's eating you?" Draco asked, despite his best effort not to be nosy.

"Last year I came, and Ramona," he spat with a high inflection, putting a haughty hand to his chest, "wasn't here. There were so many women, probably prostitutes or witches for hire, and it was a great lads night. Not some frou-frou affair. S'pose it's all for you, and the benefit of having Hermione Granger here, Merlin."

"Did Salvatore not know Ramona last year?"
Heart racing with new information, he could only thank his stars Nott was already halfway swimming in alcohol.

"Fucked if I know, but I doubt it. We didn't really have specific time frames for selling back then. Now it seems like I can't go a single day without being hounded about – " and he trailed off.

"Hounded about…?"

"Nothing," Nott replied, shaking his head. "You know…I think the mudblood actually likes you. How the hell did you manage that feat?"
He regarded Hermione, sticking out in the crowd against the irrelevant rest, even stark sitting next to a ravishing beauty like Ramona.

"Don't. Call her that."
It was out of his mouth before he could stop it coming.

"Oh, that is so rich coming from you, Draco my boy. You don't have to pretend around me. I know how you feel, you can see very plainly on Lucius' face that this is killing him. Can't believe you hadn't told him, you'd think he'd be pleased you're 'dating' someone so famous."

"Nott," he emphasized, to which end Theodore snapped his head to Draco's serious visage, smile slipping from his expression. "I'm serious. I don't use that word anymore. Neither should you."

"Wow, you know you've changed Malfoy. Make sure that you aren't the one falling for her. She is definitely a lot hotter than when we were young, but she's gonna see right through you soon enough."

Grinding his teeth, Draco exhaled and straightened on his composure as he made his way back to Hermione, who accepted her drink, and beckoned him to sit next to her.

"Draco, you must have explained this now to Salvatore a thousand times. Hermione was telling me about how you two had this scandalous potion arrangement. Don't worry, I won't tell Narcissa and Lucius about what you two were up to. I'm just wondering, Hermione, you told me that you enacted a clause in the Centaur Protection Pact using a potion Draco made, but why did you decide over anything else to bring Felix Felicis on a forest trip? Certainly, the odds of you even seeing Centaurs off their grounds in a non-hostile situation is astronomical."

Adjusting slightly, Hermione made a grand gesture of grabbing his hand, placing both on his thigh and grinning with teeth, as if nostalgic.

"Well," Hermione chuckled, one that sounded clean, but Draco had spent enough time with her rehearsing potential conversations this week to know it wasn't. "Funnily enough, I consulted him to ask about what potions I should – "

"So sorry to interrupt you, dear, but I realized that we didn't even offer you two champagne." Salvatore had enchanted four flutes over to them. "We were trying something different where we only catered our meal, and had no other staffing – makes it more…intimate."

The set up concocted was so obvious, Draco wanted to tear his hair out. It took everything in his body not to look fazed.
He knew if they were watching his every move, any sign of weakness would be interrogated later. Most certainly the drinks they'd been presented with had Veritaserum, and he not only was meant to figure this out, but drink it as well with Hermione. The bastards didn't trust him. A message was clear.

The true test for his mendacium was beginning.
"Cheers, then," he declared.
Training his gaze on Salvatore, he handed the glass hovering in front of him to Hermione, who embodied serenity.

All four sipped from their crisp cups, and the only taste he could make out was grape. His date was the first to speak up again.

"As I was saying, I discussed with Draco some options. With my knowledge of centaurs, obviously I knew they wouldn't trust me enough to speak to me, and so I wanted to go on the route of observation. Felix Felicis is no guarantee of safety, but it allowed me to witness what I came for, and what I know to be true. People see centaurs as if they're only animals, not beings capable of intelligence. They hate wizards because our government has decided that any creature or being without a wand isn't as competent as us. Centaurs and house elves – my current cases – are smart. I was saved by a house elf from death. The centaurs have a built society and speak a language, just like us. They have their own civilization, with ancient magic that they don't feel they need to use daily. I wanted to allow them freedom to meet with us without being threatened or feared. I doubt most will take a liberty to even understand what that clause means, and exercise their rights. But it needed to be added. I am powerful enough on my own for any spells that would heal or conceal, and I needed something more. And Draco had the nerve to help me achieve this when even the Ministry wouldn't. For this I am ever grateful."

Kissing him softly on his cheek, the temperature rose through his body, making him pink as she casually rubbed his arm. The woman was astounding. How had she learned to be this good at weaving?

This information, except for the very crucial detail that he was the helper, was all true. It was convincing, it was – Draco couldn't even describe it, and couldn't keep the small grin form his face as the potion he had actually brewed worked exceptionally well.

Even Salvatore couldn't keep entirely cool as he glanced at Ramona, who raised one brow
"You're a very passionate individual, Miss Granger. I like that."

Hermione merely nodded.
"Honestly, I did get a bit involved in that explanation, but I don't much care for speaking about my accomplishments. I would absolutely love to hear about the curriculum at Castelobruxo. I know that the students get access to wonderful Herbology programs, and that they have a super-exclusive dragon-tending program. Those are not my favorite subjects mind, but that is because it's out of my comfort zone. I do much better with instruction, words on paper. Real, alive entities – that's a whole other story. That's why Draco beat me in Potions, after all. But, is it all true? Are the grounds really in the Amazon? Does the school library really have the first edition of Advanced Potion Making?"

He had to admit it. She was charming.
She was growing on him.
She was – she was the only thing close to genuine that he'd really ever experienced.

His bad memories were creeping up on him as he felt a gaze burning the back of his neck. Swiveling around to see his parents huddled up by the fireplace that encompassed half the room, it centered massively in an obsidian frame on the alabaster stone walls. A fire was smoldering small flames in the September weather with leather loveseats strategically placed around its heat.

Instead of sitting and enjoying their time at a lavish event, his parents were pin straight as they stood at the back of the center sofa, the fire backlighting them in an almost menacing way. Draco so desired to just go right towards the bar, straight to the ballroom, but he knew they wanted to speak. And he had an idea already of what they desired to say.

With his half-full spiked champagne, he gulped the rest down to feel a buzz as he came within speaking distance to his father, who could barely look at him.
Thirty seconds of pure torture passed.

"Hi."
What else was there to say?

"Draco…my darling…"
Narcissa couldn't finish or didn't have the nerve to say what she meant.

"Draco, I understand with your newfound fame that you want to take this opportunity to become favourable. But…Are you trying to punish us?"

He knew they wouldn't miss how he dug his nails into his palms. He also knew that no matter what he said, they'd take it the wrong way.
Wishing he didn't have to fake all of this, he chose to be selfish and milk it for what the situation was. If he had to be secretive, shouldn't he stand to gain something of a benefit?

"What are you on about now? There's a reason I haven't talked to both of you in a long time so if you think tonight will be any different –"

"But, my boy," Lucius cut him off, "I knew that you didn't actually – I knew you were experimenting with the Zabini boy. And that's fine. You're young…But Hermione Granger?"

"So, what if it's her?"
This didn't feel like an act. Why didn't it feel like it was an act?

"She's…Draco, I understand that you want to help the family, but you're going about it the wrong way. You don't need to pretend to be with someone just because they're noteworthy."

"I'm not with her because of that. You haven't bothered to find out what's going on with me for two years. Only because of what I have done with Ford you care now."

"Draco, don't be insolent," Lucius whinged, as Narcissa waved an arm against him to silence.

"Darling, you know this isn't true. When we last had a discussion, your father expressed a disagreement and you stormed out. We didn't know where you'd gone."

"Well you didn't try that hard to seek me out, now did you? And it wasn't an agreement, so much as complete revilement of me as a human fucking being."

His mother had begun to rub his arm soothingly as he grew ever so cold. "Darling, no. I understand that you might've…fallen a bit for this woman because of her status and ahem, kindness. But this association…it can't possibly last. She was hurt by us, she – she would never mesh with us. I don't expect her forgiveness. It's just – "

"Just say it."

"I beg your pardon?"

Shaking like a leaf, he was.
"Don't pretend like your holier than thou. Say that you don't want me to be with her for being a muggleborn, just the same as you didn't want me to be gay!"

"Draco!"
He didn't mean to say it so loud.

Looking behind him, all eyes, including Hermione's, were focused on him. Instead of fleeing from his fight, he did the only thing he could fathom and sat down almost directly next to the burning wood, allowing the heat to overwhelm him. It overwhelmed him as he blocked every other conceivable noise out.
He could hear his mother and father silently arguing next to him, and only looked up when the tension and noise seemed to halt.

"Are you ok? What's going on?"
Wide-eyed, Hermione stood in front of him, flickering her eyes back and forth between Draco and his parents.

"Why don't you ask them why I'm certainly not okay."

Salvatore was watching them like he would monkeys in a zoo. Ramona and he were still stood by the stairs, barely chatting with unknown guests.
"Honestly, I'd rather not."

The man that had routinely hurt friend after friend sneered down his nose at her, but she was no longer fifteen anymore. He didn't scare her. Narcissa wasn't a threat to her, and she knew she could be good, but it didn't wipe the disproving look she wore.
More concerning was Draco, who recently had generally seemed quite good at keeping cool in stressful and public situations, and was now seething.

"Maybe you two could go away, and we could reconnect later when Draco has had some time without you."
Secretly gripping her wand. Draco saw the light purple sparkle of muffliato emit, the same enchantment he used in the restaurant.

Something was biting it's way out of Lucius's throat, but being ignored by the girl he served to rile as she turned her back to him and sat, the pair gracefully stormed into the ballroom.

"Draco, I understand your parents can rouse you but you can't make a scene like this. It's too dangerous, and mendacium can't protect us from – "

"From outbursts? Yes, I'm aware. Unfortunately, I hadn't been prepared for the fact that I get unrelentingly angry in the presence of my family and didn't think that it would illicit that reaction."
Spitting back, he wasn't even daring to look at her.

Wrapping arms around his middle, she perched her chin on his shoulder, so close to his ear, ignoring the shudder that rose through him. Saying just two words; "It's ok."

Remembering himself, Draco sighed, spinning around to embrace her, finding Salvatore and establishing eye contact. Pulling back, he muttered a half-hearted thanks.

"Do you mind if I ask what they said?"
Still clutching his arms, she gave him a meaningful look, signalling an awareness of how this looked to everyone else.

"They didn't say anything, t's what I know they're thinking."

Pausing, he saw gears turn in her head. "Were you trying to surprise me so this interaction is genuine? It's because they disprove I'm a muggleborn. Right? Is that it? Even if I'm famous. Were you trying to overreact to get me to come over here? So they could see us together? We should've talked about that beforehand though for next time because it could backfire and – "

"Granger." The tone was empty. He looked away from her once again, into the ashes collecting on the floor beneath the burning wood. "I told you last week that I haven't lived at home in two years. It's not because I wanted to live alone. It's because my parents found out what I was doing when I visited the Zabini residence at midnight."

"Oh. Did they kick you out?"
Suddenly. Draco's intense anxiety about hexing his parents seemed even more demented. Having to visit them for the first time since Ford's disappearance and casting a spell in five minutes? Seeing them regarding him in a more favourable way, and it was on false pretense.

"No, worse. They wanted to arrange a marriage for me as if it's still 1855. With a woman of course. I don't even know how they would delude themselves with the conclusion that anyone would want to be with me, let alone associated with my family. And somehow, despite this, they got a hold of my father's third cousin's daughter, who lives in Kleve, Germany. They were poor but still pureblood from what I gather, and they expected I would marry a fucking relative. Someone I'd never met. Someone who was probably coerced into agreeing because her parents wanted more galleons. All because they wanted to hide the fact I like men. I'm just – I can't forgive that. I'm so mad."

Hermione couldn't wrap her head around that information. And when Draco shook his head and repeated, 'I'm sorry", and, "I don't know why I told you that," rubbing his face with palms, she leant in.

She was kissing him softly, peck after peck until he responded, feeling the thrill of intimacy pool in her stomach, wetness between her legs as he did what they'd practiced and slipped his tongue gently into her mouth. Then tightened her grip on him.

Though he thought this moment would come much later, Draco knew after receiving a look on his boss's face that was one of elation and satisfaction. The hosts small simpers let him know he was doing 'a good job', and he could not wait to let his partner know that seizing the opportunity paid off. Hiding his lips in her hair, he breathed onto her neck and whispered; "Good call, they look like cats who caught the cream."

"Oh, good."
Except it wasn't good.
If they were alone, she'd probably be trying to unbuckle his trousers by now, would probably have already been half undressed. All of this stress and frustration and she couldn't tell anyone. Could not get any relief. She couldn't be with the person she wanted. And she was never one to settle with what she had if she was unhappy.

"Granger? I promise, that wasn't a fake story. I didn't make it up to get you to – "

"No, I know. It's just heavy. Anyways, shall we go in with the rest? I am sure they'll have many questions now from our 'display'."

"Uh- ok."

It had been barely twenty minutes in and Hermione was already feeling herself slip. When she was inspired, she could put a mask on like the best of them, but she wasn't so sure of how long this could go.

Entering the ballroom, they were dazzled by an ornate crystal chandelier, musicians softly playing in empty space not taken up by the tables. Noticing Lucius chatting with what they both knew to be a Daily Prophet journalist, Draco found another selfish opportunity to take advantage of.
"Since dinner isn't served, would you care to dance, Granger?"

"What?"

"It would be rude to approach a couple in the middle of the room, and I don't fancy my father coming to interrogate me again. Plus, Salvatore would love for us to make the paper again. Come on."

Leading her in the middle, they were the only ones about to sway to the swell of the violins and piano. "Draco, I don't know how to dance – and I haven't since the Yule Ball."

"Don't worry, I'll show you."
He took her waist, grabbed her hand, and began to spin her round.

Author's Endnote: I changed Redford Robertson's name to Ford Robertson because it reminded me too much of the actor Robert Redford, which I realize now was an inspiration.