LADY MALFOY
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything related belongs to J. K. Rowling. And the places I mention, in the story do not belong to me.
Author's note: My hearty thanks to La baguette for beta-ing this chapter.
I really appreciate your wonderful responses, guys. Thank you so much.
I am so sorry for my long absence. I am currently going through one of those tough times of life. I did not expect it to affect my writing too but it did, to my utter frustration I must add. I have been writing this chapter for last two months and I only managed to write one-third of it. I have, however, decided to post what I have written so far, rather than make you wait longer. I am really sorry about that. I hope you will forgive my half-arsed attempt at this partial chapter.
I know that last chapter ended leaving a few questions for you. If this chapter doesn't clear those, then they will definitely be cleared in the next one, I promise. Again, I am sorry for making you all wait.
I have answered some of your repeated questions at the bottom. Please check it out.
Warnings: Alternate Universe, NON-MAGIC. Harry is a female. You will find swear words but quite seldom. I will add further warnings as story progresses.
Chapter 23: Missed
Once Draco had recovered a little from the shock of learning the news of his wife's unanticipated departure from Malfoy Manor, he felt a myriad of contradictory emotions surging through him: fear, anger and guilt being the most predominant ones. Guilt was the one emotion Draco had rarely felt and, when he did, he had truly hated entertaining it. But ever since he started associating with Harriet, he has been feeling that particular emotion more and more often, Draco realized with disgruntle; for criticizing his younger cousins, for disparaging his peers (Longbottom especially), for being too harsh with his employees at times and, for taking his frustrations out on his grandmother on seldom occasion.
Draco hated it; he hated that his wife had the ability to make him feel like he was a recalcitrant child and then, lecturing him on the wrongness of his behaviour. And whenever Draco behaved acerbically with his wife, Harriet would make him feel guilty without even saying a single word. But Draco firmly decided he would not let himself succumb to the pangs of the guilty conscious he seemed to have developed over the year of his marriage; no, not this time. Knowing that it would be futile to attempt to clear all the traces of guilt, Draco pushed the feeling to the very back of his mind and focused on the two other emotions.
For someone who always carried a bit of paranoia with himself, Draco presumed that he could detect the threat hidden between the lines of the note. This kind of distrust engendered Draco to fear for his grandmother's welfare and his own reputation if Harriet made good on ending their contract. Then the thought that Harriet would try to frighten him this way resulted in Draco narrowing his eyes into slits and sneering in fury. Draco chose to hold onto that feeling with a grim satisfaction that he could shift the blame onto his wife for their current situation until the rational side of his mind spoke up. If nothing else, Draco was undoubtedly certain of Harriet's love and devotion for her family. Ending this charade of theirs now would only cause vilification and destitution to the Weasley family, a fact that Harriet, Draco was sure, was well aware of, and she would do everything in her power to spare them such suffering. That piece of logic served to effectively banish the fear and anger from inside of him. Appeased with that assessment, Draco slid out of the bed and went about preparing for the day.
Dressed in a charcoal grey suit, Draco emerged into the bedroom. Upon descrying the partly ajar door to the Harriet's dressing room, Draco stilled at a sudden registry. He had no clue when his wife had left the Manor or where exactly she had gone. The note she had left for him answered neither of those questions. The idea that his wife may have left, unattended, the last night caused a cold sweat of fret to break about his body. If that had been the case, Draco knew not how to explain the circumstances to his grandmother. After a moment's thought, Draco postulated that Harriet at least respected Alexandra enough not to egress from the Manor without saying a word to her. This made Draco wonder about the note that Harriet had sent to Alexandra during the last dinner. 'Did that it say that Harriet was leaving the Manor?' Draco shook his head in the next instant. If that had been the case, Alexandra would surely have had inquired of him concerning Harriet's abrupt decision of decampment. Draco thought of summoning one of the servants and making inquires about his wife but quickly discarded it knowing that it would only serve to reveal the fact that Harriet had left the Manor without his, their Lord's prior knowledge or approval.
The worry for the safety of his wife's journey along with his grandmother's reaction to her vanishing act left Draco in a miff. Draco concluded that he had never met anyone who frustrated him more than Harriet Joan did and, that was saying something considering that he regularly dealt with characters like his parents, his Aunt Bella, Mrs. Parkinson, Mrs. Greengrass and their respective daughters and not to forget, Dolores Umbridge.
A short while later, Draco cleared his countenance of all the traces of trepidation and anxiety he was feeling within and left the privacy of the master suite to face his grandmother.
Despite his outward composure, Draco was committed not to display his apprehension when Alexandra, upon noticing his entry into the family dining room, silently regarded him.
"Good morning, Draco," Alexandra greeted at last as he took the seat at the head of the table.
"Morning, Grandmother," Draco replied, feigning nonchalance to her inquisitive expression. Draco felt mildly relieved to note the absence of ire in Alexandra's tone as well as her demeanour, a definite consequence if Harriet had blabbered out the reason for her sudden retreat to her family.
No more words were exchanged as they consumed their meal but Draco was well aware of the calculating looks Alexandra kept casting in his direction. Draco silently prayed that Alexandra wouldn't start asking questions regarding his wife for which he had no answers. Instead, Draco hoped that he could guilefully gather the information about Harriet from his grandmother without her being any the wiser. But to his misfortune, Alexandra seemed in no hurry to delve into the matter.
That wasn't the only reason why the silence during the breakfast bothered Draco; though he did not want to acknowledge it, he knew that it was mainly due to the absence of one particular person who sat to his right, everyday for the past year. Draco had gotten used to quietly listening (since he wasn't much of a conversationalist) to the inane chatter that his grandmother and his wife indulged in during meals; this sudden quiescence ill-settled him.
It was almost the end of breakfast when Francis announced Goyle's arrival and thereupon receiving Alexandra's permission, admitted the coachman inside.
Draco arched his brow in confusion upon seeing the windswept and flushed look on his grandmother's brawny coachman, especially since Goyle had no reason to leave the Manor. Suddenly, Draco felt a rush of alarm and concern rousing in his body upon conjecturing that Alexandra might have needed Dr. Derwent's services this morning until Goyle's uttered words reached his ears.
Goyle bowed first to Alexandra and then to Draco. "Sir, Madam, Mrs. Malfoy has been safely escorted to The Burrow," Goyle informed them.
Draco's expression cleared in comprehension. The strong suspicion that Draco had had about where Harriet might have gone was finally confirmed. A sense of relief washed over him upon learning that his wife had at least shown some self-preservation by waiting until the morning to leave, instead of giving into her rather well known impetuous nature and subjecting herself not only to the bitter cold but also to the other dangers of the dark.
"Good," Alexandra responded with a satisfied nod and then promptly dismissed her coachman.
Nodding dutifully, Goyle bowed to both of them once more before exiting the room.
Alexandra, then, shifted her gaze to Draco and opened her mouth to speak on the issue that they had both been delaying since they had meet for the day. Draco wondered whether his grandmother had intentionally waited for Goyle's return before broaching the subject. "I was quite bewildered when Harriet accosted me earlier this morning with an announcement that she was going to The Burrow and then, requested to borrow my carriage for the trip."
Draco deliberately kept his gaze on the plate, so as not to give away his ignorance on the matter.
Alexandra paused for a minute, watching her grandson, waiting for him to respond. When Draco didn't, Alexandra continued, "She would not listen to any of my advice to wait until the weather became a little more bearable or until you could personally consort her there. She seemed quite desperate to leave and wouldn't even remain for breakfast. Harriet did not receive any distressing news from Biddestone last evening, did she?"
"No," Draco answered honestly. He had no delusions that his wife had fled from the Manor for the sole purpose of escaping him, however disturbing he found it.
Alexandra nodded, but the befuddlement on her aged face sustained. "Harriet assured me that it wasn't the case. Also, this visit isn't for a day either if you take her luggage into consideration," she mused aloud and then, peering closely at him, she asked, "Draco, do you know the reason for her rather peculiar behaviour?"
Before Alexandra could finish her question, Draco opportunely stuffed his mouth with a piece of bread so that he could have a minute to think before answering his grandmother.
"Mrs. Malfoy wasn't content with her short call to the Weaselys the other day and voiced her desire to spend adequate amount of time with them. And I agreed," Draco said at last, deeming it a plausible lie.
"Hmm…Harriet wanting to sojourn with the Weasleys is understandable, but that still doesn't explain her haste this morning. She had not once mentioned to me about her embarkation to Biddestone yesterday," Alexandra pointed out, staring intently at him, trying to read the emotions veiled behind his expressionless facade. "And why would she insist on taking my carriage with her?"
'She is angry with me. Of course, she wouldn't want to take my carriage,' Draco thought surly, starting to get annoyed again with his prideful wife for putting him in this predicament. Outwardly, Draco wanted to shrug in response but he knew that his grandmother wouldn't be satisfied. "I told her that I have a meeting in the factory this morning," Draco lied again without a change in his cool guise.
The expression on Alexandra's face rapidly transformed into one of askance. "Draco, your dedication towards the family business is admirable, but neglecting your wife in the process is not acceptable, at all!" Alexandra admonished him. In addition to the apparent desperation, Alexandra had seen the pain lingering in the depths of those beryl eyes that morning, having cared to look beyond Harriet's reassuring smile.
"Neglecting?" Draco repeated incredulously, his forehead furrowed deeply as he stared at Alexandra. "What do you mean, Grandmother?"
"The other day, I was adverse to the idea of Harriet travelling to Biddestone on her own. But Harriet had been restless with anxiety and desperation to reach her dear friend in a time of need. I acquiesced albeit reluctantly, confident of your assurance to retrieve her back. Did you keep your word?" Alexandra demanded of him.
Draco opened and then closed his mouth, not knowing how to answer that. "But Mrs. Malfoy had returned to the Manor, safe and sound," Draco argued unsuccessfully after a long, awkward pause.
"You could not have known that for sure, Draco. Why didn't you detour to The Burrow before arriving at the Manor?" Alexandra asked him, her gaze stern.
"I…." Draco flattered gracelessly. Yes, he had promised Harriet that morning that he would personally escort her back to the Manor, but in the face of Crabbe's faux pas, he had completely forgotten about it. His sole focus had been on reaching the Manor where he would, finally, be able to drop his mask of unperturbed composure and take his vassal to task for his transgression. Draco hadn't realised about having broken his word until his grandmother brought it to his notice. "I was preoccupied that afternoon," Draco defended himself; fully knowing how lame it would sound to her.
"Precisely. You didn't have time to accompany your wife to her maiden family then, and nor do you have it today," Alexandra surmised, shaking her head at him in disapproval.
Hearing the great disappointment in her grandmother's tone, Draco started to get frustrated. He wanted to retort that Harriet, too, hadn't waited at The Burrow for him to come and take her back. Eyeing the acute expression on Alexandra's face, Draco, however, wisely decided to keep his arguments to himself.
Needless to say, a tense silence lapsed between them as they listlessly finished the rest of the meal.
'Charade or not, this marriage is turning out to be nothing but trouble,' Draco thought resentfully. Despite his misgivings, Draco had proceeded with this union, just to make his grandmother happy. From his past experiences, Draco had learnt that act of kindness would never pay off and this whole situation was only serving to prove his point. To make matters worse, he has been fated to be tied down with someone as challenging (but not in a way he desired) as Harriet Potter. Draco continued to curse his wife as they quietly vacated the table a few minutes later.
"I will see you in the afternoon, Grandmother," Draco said stiffly. Bowing to her in farewell, Draco swiftly turned and strode towards the door.
Alexandra stopped him in his tracks with a query, "Are you aware, darling, that Harriet had briefly visited the factories before she journeyed to her village?"
"What?" Draco sharply pivoted to face his grandmother; his bafflement cracking through his perpetually maintained poise.
"I thought not. Otherwise the sense of consideration for your wife's safe return wouldn't have slipped from your mind," Alexandra remarked with clear reprehend.
"What are you talking about, Grandmother?" Draco demanded impatiently, walking back and halting in front of Alexandra.
Alexandra explained with an earnest gaze about how they had worried about him when Vincent did not return to the Manor even after several hours and, how Harriet had taken the initiative to retrace his path to the factories and discover his state of being herself.
'Then why didn't Mrs. Malfoy come inside? How come I remained ignorant of her visit?' Draco would have questioned Alexandra had his mind not immediately supplied the memory of Harriet's very first visit to the factories and the words she had uttered in the privacy of his office. Don't worry, Mr. Malfoy. I won't step inside your precious factories next time. Draco thought hard on the events of the day before yesterday and remembered descrying Dean who had come to serve the afternoon meals to the children and deduced that his wife might have used him as an informant.
Draco felt sorry that his grandmother, especially with her heart's condition, had to experience such stress on his behalf, even though he had no fault in it. "I am sorry, Grandmother," Draco said solicitously.
Alexandra shook her head, dismissing his words. "Harriet had ensured me of your welfare within two hours of her departure," she asserted and was now looking at him meaningfully.
For an intelligent man like himself, it did not take much time or effort for Draco to understand Alexandra's implication. Despite the concerns of her best friend that had been ailing her at that moment, his wife still had taken the time to confirm his well-being. Pleasant warmth burst out from the pit of his stomach at this knowledge but before he could consider the feeling further, the conclusion of Alexandra's implication brought him short: That Draco had failed to return the courtesy. 'Once again,' Draco added to himself with an internal wince. Draco fought hard not to allow himself to be chagrined, but failed spectacularly. 'Like I already don't have a reason to feel guilty with regard to my wife, you had to go and give me a couple more, Grandmother,' Draco thought gloomily as he left the room without a word.
The Weasleys, who were lounging in the living room waiting for the breakfast call, were pretty surprised, to say the least, to find Harriet, saddled with luggage at the doorstep. Whilst the boys were thrilled to receive their sister, Arthur and Molly simply looked stunned. But the state of shock did not last long in the case of head of the house, and Arthur swiftly engulfed Harriet in his arms, ecstatic to have his greatly missed daughter back in The Burrow. Molly, however, immediately became suspicious at Harriet's sudden appearance.
When she awakened that morning, Harriet had felt the urgent need to be away from the Manor. After being subject to such a vitriolic remark from her husband, Harriet had sought refuge in the private study that had been allocated to her for personal use. It hadn't been until the next morning that Harriet realised that she had cried herself to sleep there. In addition to the sadness she had felt pervading her heart once more as she remembered last afternoon's episode, Harriet had been mortified to discover that their butler, Francis had come inside the room to ensure that the fire in the hearth prevailed throughout the night. Harriet at least hoped that Francis had not seen the tear steaks that she had found dried upon her cheeks. Though she managed to gather some composure, Harriet had found herself thoroughly unwilling to face her husband. Harriet had felt a vehement desire to flee to a place where she could nurse her wound in peace, a place that did not fall under the ownership of the very man who had given it. And the Burrow was the only place she had come up with.
Despite her extreme reluctance, Harriet had recognised the need to return to the master suite to at least pack her clothes. Mustering the courage, Harriet had padded through the corridors that had been steadily illuminating with the faint rays of winter sun. Upon entering their bedroom, Harriet had deliberately kept her gaze away from the king-size bed and quietly slipped into the bathroom. Refreshed, when Harriet had exited the bathroom and made her way towards her dressing room, her gaze accidentally landed on the bed and in that brief moment, she had caught sight of her slumbering husband through a large gap between the drapes. In the next instant, Harriet had felt an incredible anger well up from every fibre of her body. That her husband should experience a peaceful sleep after blithely spewing such a nasty remark on her virtue was intolerable to her. Burning with rage, Harriet had strode toward the writing table situated in the sitting room to write her 'dear' husband a note with full intention of expressing her reaction to his words and then, apprising him with the news of their broken contract. But when she reached to the point of wording the conclusion, Harriet had wavered, a single image of Alexandra making her pause.
After several tortured moments, Harriet had helplessly acknowledged that she could not bring herself to be responsible for causing the older woman, whom she has come to love dearly over the past year, the heartache that would inevitably result were the truth of their marriage revealed. In addition to her family's suffering, Harriet had comprehended that this action of hers would only serve to make Alexandra miserable in the last years of her life. At last, Harriet had crumpled the parchment into a ball and tossed it in the flames and then, wrote a brief note, ending it with a promise to return to the Manor.
Packed and dressed, Harriet had summoned Nola and Marie to her study to leave out the instructions to be followed in her absence. Harriet had wondered with a brief spite, why she couldn't simply leave like she wanted to, but then, she had remembered the promise she had made to Alexandra to administer the Malfoy household. Harriet had resolutely decided to keep that word for as long as she held the title of the Malfoy Mistress. To Nola, Harriet had instructed, to ensure that the food was supplied to the children like always, whilst to their housekeeper, Marie, Harriet had given several instructions on smooth running of the house and then concluded with the order to approach Alexandra, should a situation arise that needed to be dealt with immediately. Half an hour later, when Harriet had descended the stairs and entered Alexandra's quarters, it had become a daunting task for her to convince the older woman that the only reason for her hurriedly decided vacation to Biddestone was because she had been profoundly missing her family; a partial truth.
But as Harriet travelled to her destination, she had recognised that she did not want her family to discover the truth behind her arrival. Throughout the journey, Harriet had deliberated on possible explanations she could present to her family so that they wouldn't worry over her.
"I was disappointed with my hasty call the other day, that I did not get the opportunity to meet you all. And I realised just how much I have been missing you. So, I decided to come and spend few days here." Harriet repeated the same excuse she had given Alexandra before she had departed from the Manor that morning, all the while maintaining a bright smile upon her face.
"Of course darling, but you did not have to expose yourself to the nasty cold of the morning," Molly disapproved instantly with a frown. With thirty-one years of experience in marital life at her disposal, Molly could shrewdly deduced only one reason for a woman's appearance at her maiden house without any prior notice: the woman had been engaged in a serious altercation with either her husband or her in-laws or perhaps both. In Harriet's case, the in-law she lived with, was Lady Alexandra Malfoy. Even in her dreams, Molly could not imagine Lady Alexandra partaking in quarrels with her granddaughter-in-law. So, that left Lord Malfoy, her son-in-law.
Harriet suppressed the urge to squirm in her chair under her mother's suspicious gaze. By now the family had moved to the dining area and were currently seated at the table. "I wanted to see Father and my brothers before they departed to their respective workplaces, Mother," Harriet muttered demurely, causing the men around her to bestow her with warm grins.
Despite the innocent look Harriet was giving her, Molly did not want to believe her. "Harry, did you journey here by yourself?"
Understanding her mother's implication, Harriet managed to produce a sheepish smile and murmured, "Mr. Malfoy has a meeting this morning and I couldn't wait to come here."
Molly pursed her lips in discontent but decided to give her daughter the benefit of the doubt. Molly distinctly remembered the first year of Harriet's arrival at The Burrow, how Arthur and she had discovered their new daughter's tendency to conceal her problems from others and then, secretly deal with them by herself despite her young age. Molly remembered how long and how much patience and gentle persuasion it had taken her husband and herself to bring Harriet out of her shell and impress upon her to approach and entrust them with her concerns and troubles at all times. It hadn't been an easy task, Molly remembered, but Harriet had gradually improved at seeking their help over the years. Though it didn't stop Arthur and Molly from worrying that their daughter would relapse. Disregarding the genial front Harriet was displaying, Molly pledged to observe her over the following days before coming to a conclusion. If she found out that her suspicions held some credit, Molly would then counsel her daughter and help her resolve whatever conflict had occurred between her daughter and her son-in-law before it could lead to a chasm between the young couple.
Meanwhile, Arthur watched his wife with his forehead creased as she subjected Harriet to an inquisition instead of being delighted by her visit. The boys, however, remained ignorant of the tension between their mother and sister, their focus singularly held by the tantalizing food spread over the table. Throughout breakfast, Harriet found it hard to participate in the jaunty atmosphere around her when she was still hurting from the intangible injury to her heart. Harriet managed to retain a fake smile upon her face in front of her family, nonetheless.
'Oh, what a terrible fate it is for a woman to discover that her husband has always viewed her as nothing but a dirty wench,' Harriet thought with a pained expression as she slowly leaned her head sideways on the window frame and dully stared out at the icicle-covered trees of the orchard, having retired to what used to be her and Ginny's room later that morning.
Harriet stewed over the thoughts of her husband, pondering what could have founded him to utter such an allegation about her. For one thing, her agreement to their contract; to pose as his wife for a stipulated time frame should be sufficient to make such an impression, Harriet reckoned with distress. Draco's words reminded Harriet of one particular kind of female, that she had heard her mother and brothers calling 'scarlet woman' in her girlhood. But, she hadn't learnt the true meaning of that word until couple of years ago when she had accidentally overheard one of Mrs. Smith's gossip sessions. Harriet had heard her describing them as women who offered unspeakable, physical pleasures to men in exchange of blunt and how Mr. Moor, a middle-aged man of notable wealth who lived at the far side of Biddestone, sought such women on each of his visits to Town.
Upon reflection of her situation, Harriet conceded with despondency, mingled with utter shame that she was no different from those women. After all, Harriet had agreed to become a man's companion for a certain period of time in exchange for saving her family from a financial disaster. Irrespective of her explicit condition regarding physical intimacy, Harriet would have had no choice but to submit if her husband had demanded she fulfil the conjugal duties of a spouse. A possibility of which, Harriet had been well aware when she had agreed to their arrangement. Yet, she had proceeded with it, singularly yet tentatively trusting Draco's gentlemanly word to sustain her chastity for as long as she desired. By the time this assimilated, Harriet became pale; she briefly closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, hard, to stop it from violent quivering.
'Oh, how much of a fool I had been, for not recognising Mr. Malfoy's true perception of my character. If it was, indeed, the case, then that meant that Draco had been harbouring such assessment of me since our first, proper meeting at Blaise's residence,' she thought, distraught, her eyes glistening with tears. Harriet's mind then recalled how Draco hadn't returned her embrace at that time. Harriet tried to recollect all the times when they had engaged in some form of physical contact; and she could not emerge with a single occasion where Draco had touched her without any prompting, either by the situation or by the people that had surrounded them. Even then, Draco had not once crossed the boundaries of propriety. Every voluntary hand clasping or even an embrace had been initiated by her and, each time her husband had shielded away from her, Harriet realised with a dark flush of mortification. Now, Harriet had ruefully found out that there never had been any kind of threat to her virginity from her husband.
Expressing one's intense feeling whether joy or pain with a physical gesture had been one of the many things Harriet had been sorely inexperienced in when she was brought to The Burrow for the first time. Harriet vaguely remembered the moments she had become envious of her cousin, Dudley when her Aunt Petunia would affectionately ruffle his hair, caress his forehead or kiss his cheeks. Harriet recalled one particular memory of a spring afternoon: Petunia had been preparing to take Dudley to the nearby park. Harriet remembered watching Petunia adjust her cloak around her shoulders and then lovingly taking Dudley's chubby hand in her own. With all the naiveté of a child, Harriet remembered her younger self innocently slipping her small hand in her Aunt's free one, only to find herself on the floor in the next instant, with a painful sting across her cheek. Harriet vividly remembered, even after all these years, Petunia's hate-filled sneering words before they had departed to the park. No one would ever want to suffer the touch of a filthy little chit like you; always be mindful of that! Having been in an impressible age of five, Harriet had taken that lesson seriously and had always been carefully to abide by it until she had met the Weaselys who frequently treated her to familial kisses and embraces, tender gestures that Harriet had returned with obvious inhabitations.
Like with many of her Aunt's 'lessons', it took few years for Harriet to detangle it from her mind. Even then, Harry could not bring herself to express her feelings in such a manner unless she shared a deep bond with the other person. The Weasleys and Hermione had been the only recipients of it. 'Then why, oh why did I behave that intimately with Mr. Malfoy? These compulsive acts of mine must have only served to solidify his perception,' Harriet bemoaned pitifully, burying her face in her cold, trembling palms. 'Because he IS your husband. It is not wrong of you to desire his touch of care and affection,' her inner voice, which sounded a lot like her mother supplied in a kind, soothing voice. Harriet shook her head, which was still held in her hands, to banish that line of thought. Instead, Harriet wondered if there might have been any truth in Petunia's statement whether she had been too quick in relinquishing that opinion.
A long pause later, Harriet drew her pale face up and took a deep, shuddering breath and, with eyes still shut, willed back the tears. Overwhelmed under the weight of all these broodings, Harriet felt the exhaustion plaguing both her body and mind. Trudging to the bed, Harriet tiredly lay on it and then, curling her body in a foetal position under the quilt, she drifted into a fitful sleep thereafter. It was Nancy, their maid who woke her up later that afternoon for Luncheon.
Once Harriet gathered her bearings enough to be more aware of her surroundings, she noticed that the bedroom was completely devoid of the belongings that she had left behind after her marriage.
Harriet immediately approached her mother, inquiring after them.
"I had packed your things and safeguarded them in my room, dear," Molly informed her, not meeting her eyes.
Harriet did not ask why she needed to do that. Harriet could quite well fathom the person and the situation that would have forced Molly to do such a thing. Harriet did not want to cause more distress to her mother by pressing further and making her voice the reasons.
Pushing her marital woes aside, Harriet resolved to enjoy the company of her family, but the memory would keep crawling back to the forefront of her mind, leaving her internally struggling to shroud her despair and maintain outward composure.
Harriet's mind reverted into that state, especially when she found herself alone. On the first night of her stay, Harriet found herself experiencing this depression when she had to spend the night in the room, all by herself. Over the past nine years, Harriet had fallen into a habit, one immensely appreciated by her, of sharing a room, first with Ginny and then, with her husband. She had absolutely hated the grim solitude of her attic room when she lived with the Dursleys.
Draco returned to the Manor later that afternoon in a grouchy mood. All day he had been plagued with thoughts of his wife, constantly diverting his concentration from business. His peevish state of mind dwindled when Draco noticed the quiescent atmosphere of the house. The only thing that could account for it was the severe lack of Alexandra and Harriet's conversation coming from the drawing room, which had greeted him every day for past year when he had entered the foyer after work.
Instead of making his way directly to the master suite like he usually did, Draco strolled to the drawing room where he found his grandmother, reading a book, sitting at her usual place. Despite himself, Draco's grey eyes flicked to the empty chairs set across the said sofa. A sudden vision flashed before his mercurial eyes, of his wife, upon noticing his entry, quickly standing and greeting him with an effervescent smile before eagerly inviting him for spot of a tea and snacks. Shaking his head to dislodge the image, Draco softly called Alexandra's attention. "Greetings, Grandmother."
Glancing up at him, Alexandra asked, "Oh Draco, did you just arrive?"
Draco simply nodded in agreement, still standing at his position by the doorway.
"How was your day?" Alexandra enquired curiously.
"Uneventful," Draco replied and then, reciprocated with some hesitation, "Yours?"
"Mundane." Alexandra smiled to indicate that she was merely jesting but Draco caught a glimpse in her watery blue eyes that spoke differently.
In silence, Alexandra patiently awaited her grandson to speak again. Meanwhile, Draco looked back at her, feeling apprehensive that she might still be holding displeasure with him from earlier. "I shall change my attire and join you for tea," he said after a moment.
Noticing a slight question in his voice, Alexandra smiled at him in reassurance and said, "I would like that, Darling."
Draco nodded in response, bowed, and disappeared.
Half-hour later found Draco and Alexandra seated in the drawing room with tea service placed between them. Offering a cup to Draco and then taking one for herself, Alexandra opened the conversation, to his internal relief. "You have yet to apprise me of the events that transpired on the day before yesterday, Draco? Am I right in believing that, somehow, Vincent had been in the centre of it?"
Draco nodded in agreement and then briefly recounted the incident of Crabbe and Millicent's discovery by her father and the altercation that had ensued. Though Draco was irritably aware that he was being selfish by purposefully omitting his wife's involvement in it, he simply concluded his speech by informing Alexandra of how he had resolved the issue in the end.
Alexandra looked astonished at first, upon learning of the way her grandson had handled the matter, but a proud, bright smile soon unfolded on her wrinkled face as she gazed at him.
A companionable silence settled between them as they sipped their tea while watching the snow falling through the glass windows, each lost in their thoughts.
Placing her now empty cup back on the table, Alexandra turned back to her grandson and said, "Draco, I have been thinking of throwing a ball on one of this Christmas's days."
"A ball, Grandmother?" Draco drawled, an objecting frown already assuming his face.
"Yes, Draco," Alexandra confirmed firmly and, before he could argue, she added reasonably, "We cannot allow our personal issues to hinder our social commitments. We haven't had a celebratory affair since this summer."
"Yes, but…." Draco trailed off, floundering in voicing his concerns for her without causing her any offence.
Alexandra hid her smile, understanding his distress. "If your only worry is about my health, sweetheart, then you can relax right now. Harriet is quite capable of organizing the event. Of course, my suggestions and guidance, now and then, wouldn't go amiss."
Draco could no longer protest, having been silenced into astonishment at hearing the sheer confidence in his grandmother's tone and words that his wife would be returning to the Manor before Christmas.
All through the evening, Alexandra kept bringing up Harriet in every conversation they engaged in, as if afraid that Draco would forget her. It left Draco feeling utterly perplexed. Intent on doing just the contrary, Draco contrived to focus on the bright side of his wife's absence. Upon entering the master suite, Draco tried to relish the fact that he could, finally, have the quarters all to himself. Upon retiring to the bed later that night, Draco's satisfaction at having the whole bed to himself, however, deflated a little after a few waking moments. He fancied himself indifferent to the lack of Harriet's nightly greeting or her reliable, breathing presence on the bed by his side, for that matter. Draco spent a long time, twisting and turning on the mattress, unable to find a comfortable position to sleep in. To him, the bed somehow felt colder, despite the maid's application of a hot brick and the abundantly burning fire in the hearth.
Staring at the canopy, Draco could not comprehend why Harriet's absence should bother him this much, especially since they never engaged in any physical contact, let alone engage in sexual activities. Not a second passed before he finished making this observation than his inner voice supplied slyly, 'It's the void left by your wife, Draco; absence of heat emanated by her body that used to seep through the covers and pleasantly warm the bedding for you.'
With a loud growl at his treacherous mind for immediately following those words with an image of Harriet's lascivious yet warm body, Draco flipped onto his front and stuffed his face in the pillows. With eyes clamped shut, Draco tried to empty his mind of all thoughts and, desperately hoped for a dreamless sleep. Unfortunately for him, his fate wasn't any more kind.
The issue of Ronald and Hermione's engagement came as a saving grace for Harriet. It provided a bit of distraction in which she could concentrate on others' problems instead of her own irresolvable ones. The third day of her stay fell on Sunday; Arthur and Molly took the opportunity during the afternoon to finally visit the Grangers to discuss their children's union. When they returned home, Molly told them with apparent scorn that Bernard Granger has refused to make their engagement official until Harriet kept her word. Arthur did not seem pleased at the idea of taking advantage of Harriet's current status to achieve an employment for his son, but he did not verbalise this disapproval for the sake of Ron and Hermione's felicity.
Initially, Harriet had intended to ask Draco to find a desirable job for her brother, but Ronald had watered her designs down by firmly declaring his disinclination to work with his brother-in-law, once more when Harriet had approached her brother to make him reconsider his decision. At that time, Harriet had been annoyed with Ron for making things complicated for her.
But after much deliberation, Harriet conceded to herself that it would be in the best interests of everyone involved if Ron wasn't employed under her husband. After all, this kind of affiliation would only become uncomfortable for all, when Draco and she were no longer together. And knowing her husband like she did, Draco would rather discharge Ron than deal with the inconvenience on a daily basis, she convinced herself. Harriet certainly did not want her brother to become unemployed at the same time as she would be getting separated from her husband. Therefore, Harriet searched through her mind for all the members of upper class society, with whom she had established connections since her marriage. Needless to say, Harriet could only come up with handful of people and, among these, she trusted even fewer to not speculate or even question her reluctance to utilise her affluent husband's assistance in the matter. Finally, a name popped into her mind.
Lord Sirius Black
The more Harriet thought about him, the more confident she become in his ability to help Ronald, without making a fuss. With a satisfied sigh, Harriet sat down to compose a letter to her Uncle Sirius, elaborating on her request.
It took three days for Harriet to recover, at least partly, from the events of that afternoon. Only when Harriet felt certain that she would not betray the hurt and anger caused by her husband, did Harriet contrive to write to Alexandra, ensuring the older woman of her wellness.
The Weasleys were ensconced in the living room after dinner when Harriet sat down to compose the letter. Arthur and Ron were engaged in a game of chess; Molly was busily knitting by the fireplace while Fred and George, huddled in the far corner, were discussing their products amongst themselves in hushed tones.
Immersed in her writing, Harriet did not notice Fred and George sneaking up from behind her. Harriet jumped out of her skin when she heard Fred shouting in her ear. "Writing a letter to the dear husband, eh?"
"Fred!" Recovering from the startle quickly, Harriet twisted round in her chair, to smack her brother. George took advantage of the moment of her inattention to pull the letter from under her hand from the other side.
"Missing him already, are you?" George piped while fluttering the parchment teasingly up beyond her reach.
Leaping to her feet, Harriet held her hand, palm up in front of him and demanded with an annoyed look, "Give it back, George!"
"Nay," George shook his head with a mischievous glint in his eyes as Fred moved to stand next to him with a huge grin and added with a mock-deep sigh, his free hand dramatically placed over his heart, "Let's see what sonnets you used to describe your love and longing for our formidable but genteel brother-in-law first."
Harriet's felt her jaw drop and heat bloom across her cheeks while Arthur chided from his seat, "Return it to your sister, boys. It isn't proper to read other's correspondence."
Regaining her composure a minute later, Harriet internally shrugged to herself and then moved her chin a little, motioning to her brothers to carry on with their plan. Fred frowned at her nonchalance while George held the letter in front of them to read, unheeding of their father's words.
"Well, let's see, Dearest Grandma….." George stilled and then, snapping his gaze back at his sister, he stated in a whine, "This is a letter to Lady Malfoy."
"Yes." Harriet nodded in agreement and then, from the corner of her eye, she saw Molly watching her with keen interest. "I was planning to write to Mr. Malfoy after I finished this," Harriet lied after a pause and then, taking the parchment loosely held in George's hand, she added, narrowing her eyes at them, "But now, I know not to do so in your presence."
Mildly disappointed, the red headed twins sauntered back to their previous positions while Ron pointedly snickered at them, pleased to witness their failure. His amusement, however, ended when they returned his guffaw with twin evil glowers that promised retribution.
Shaking her head at their backs, Harriet sat back in the chair and resumed her task.
Later that night, Harriet sat at the table in the bedroom, staring at the cream-coloured parchment spread out on the desktop before her. Minutes passed and Harriet could not come up with anything other than reproachful words to write to Draco. In the end, feeling a little vengeful, Harriet folded the blank parchment and slid it in the envelope and addressed it to her husband. Harriet wouldn't have bothered making an effort to write him one if she didn't believe that her mother would make a conscious point to note the number of letters Harriet was dispatching to the Manor the next morning. This intuition spurred from numerous but subtle inquires Molly had subjected Harriet to about her marital life since her arrival, much to the younger woman's annoyance and discomfort.
The moment Harriet had entered The Burrow, a single glance at a searching-looking Molly, told her that she was suspicious. Harriet was knowledgeable about Molly's ability to spot a woman with conjugal problems. Harriet had her work cut out for her, assuring her mother of otherwise in her own life.
Back at Malfoy Manor the next morning, a look of utter shock flashed across Draco's face when Landen approached him with another one of his wife's correspondence after having handed one to his grandmother. Glad to have the footman blocking Alexandra's view of him for the brief instant, Draco swiftly schooled his features into a neutral expression as he accepted the letter. His pulse escalated as Draco stared at his address in Harriet's handwriting on the envelope. With the apprehension that Harriet had written to inform him that she has changed her mind and that their arrangement could no longer be continued, and the anxiety and unconscious hope that she had written to apprise him of her design to return to the Manor, Draco gingerly broke the seal. Unfolding the parchment, Draco blinked in surprise at finding it blank. Stifling the immediate urge to turn the letter around and thus, drawing Alexandra's attention, Draco squinted his eyes and tried to see through the paper for ink imprints. The parchment was thin and rough, Draco absently noted, clearly not the one of the quality that the Malfoys were accustomed to use. He came to the conclusion it was just a plain, unwritten sheet. Draco did not know whether to feel offended or grateful that Harriet had, at least, not composed him a hate-filled letter in retaliation.
Draco quickly stuffed it back in the envelope before Alexandra could notice what was amiss with his correspondence.
After finishing reading her correspondence, Alexandra lifted her gaze to Draco, only to find him watching her intently. "What did Harriet write to you, Draco?" she enquired, nonplussed at his inactivity.
"I shall read it later, Grandmother," Draco answered succinctly.
"Of course," Alexandra said knowingly, casting a teasing smile at him.
Alexandra looked decidedly cheerful, probably relieved that no antagonism between him and Harriet had been the cause of her abrupt leave, Draco observed uneasily. 'Like always, my wife has taken care to assuage my grandmother's fears and worries, completely disregarding the effect her ways to ensure the same, would have on my sensibilities,' Draco thought bitterly.
Later that day, Draco made an effort to compose a reply to his wife, intending to actually put words in it. But the perception that his uncertain pleasantries and unenthusiastic inquires after the Weasleys' welfare would be overlooked by Harriet, in search of his apologies and then, promptly dismissed when she find none, made him send back a empty parchment.
To keep their respective families satisfied, Harriet and Draco continued to exchange letters, as if adhering to an unspoken agreement. Every time, Harriet would open her husband's correspondence, secretly hoping to read his apologies or his laments for making such an allegation or at least, the news of his visitation to Biddestone to consort her back to the Manor. Meanwhile, Draco would unfold his wife's letter, anticipating the news of her arrival. Both found themselves equally disappointed.
It had been exactly ten days since Harriet's vamoose; Draco could not help counting. In those days, Draco found himself frequently pondering Harriet and their marriage, against his will. Draco remembered two reasons, two very strong reasons as why he had been, and still was averse to the idea of marriage. Firstly, Draco was afraid, he conceded at least to himself, that the woman who became his wife would start interfering in the non-household issues (like his mother did with his father), matters that she has no reason to concern herself with in the first place. The same fear had been the driving force for Draco to include such an explicit condition in their marriage contract. And despite promising to abide by it, Harriet kept breaking the rule, time and again. Resultantly, Draco found himself being constantly influenced by Harriet and her ideals. Previously where he used to make ruthless decisions without any second thoughts, he found himself rethinking many of his preconceptions and opinions, and also, started considering the effect his decisions would have on the others involved.
Draco could clearly imagine the reaction of his father, were he to witness these changes in him. He could picture Lucius curling his lips at him in disgust and harshly spitting the words, 'You are going soft, Draco!'. This enlightenment, on the fatal afternoon he had been returning to the Manor, made way to kindle within him a combination of resentment and outrage towards his wife. 'It was foolish of me not to have foreseen this,' Draco chastised himself internally. He should have realised that Harriet Potter would never be the compliant wife that he had been desirous for. He should have realized the very moment Harriet had made the decision to sacrifice her life, and had approached him to save her adopted family in lieu of moderately peaceful and content marriage (a dream of almost every maiden). Draco should have comprehended then that for a woman to make such a compromise, she would have to be immeasurably brave and determined. 'True to this assessment, Harriet turned out to be one of those women who is steadfast in transforming her ideas and beliefs into actions,' Draco acknowledged and added to himself wryly, 'and thus making my life more complicated than it already is.'
Draco refused to entertain, let alone consider that his vexation at Harriet may have stemmed from the jealously that had been steadily amassing inside of him for several months now. This fleeting reminder led him to think of his second reason to avoid marriage in the first place. Draco paused, and then shook his head firmly, no, he would not contemplate the last cause that had succeeded in completing the destruction of his faith in a relationship, the kind that is entrenched between a man and a woman, on the grounds of attraction, physical or otherwise.
On the late afternoon of that day, Draco received a social call from Blaise. Ever since Harriet's flight, Draco had been anticipating Blaise to storm through the Manor doors and start denouncing him for tormenting Harriet. The discernment that Blaise always seemed to favour Harriet over him, even though their friendship had been longer, left Draco inwardly grumbling churlishly.
Draco's anxiety at facing his best friend had turned out to be futile, for Blaise had reacted with surprise at his admission of Harriet's vacation. To Draco's internal relief, Blaise took the news at its face value and then smiled understandingly to himself, probably presuming the same reason that his aristocratic friend had presented to his grandmother.
Afterwards, Blaise told Draco the reason for his visitation. In a rare display of his boundless ebullience, Blaise informed his best friend of his impending fatherhood. After accepting Draco's calm but sincere felicitation, Blaise voiced his disappointment at losing the opportunity to share his elation with Harriet, but he recovered soon and declared his design to call upon her at The Burrow.
'I haven't seen Mrs. Malfoy in the last ten days, you should have even lesser privilege to do so, Blaise!' Draco internally snapped in anger but Blaise was so immersed in his euphoria to notice the furious scowl that flitted across Draco's face. 'Why can't you just bloody leave my wife alone?'
Harriet found reprieve from the agonising thoughts of her marriage as well as her craving for Alexandra's presence in a pastime of making Christmas presents for the family, both maiden and marital. With little money left to her disposal, Harriet could not afford to buy the gifts this time. Alternatively, Harriet decided to hand-make the gifts and, in order to compensate for their high expense, she chose baroque patterns whether for sewing or knitting, which required meticulous concentration. This kind of precise work kept Harriet from drowning into the well of despair.
Molly, at first, had been bewildered at seeing Harriet diligently working on her embroidery. Molly remembered the time when she had taken the task of teaching sewing and knitting to her two daughters. She remembered how much Harriet hated sitting at one corner and doing needlework when her brothers ventured out to play Cricket. Her sprightly daughter's discontent showed in the form of lack of interest and thus resulted in terrible performance. In the end, an exasperated Molly had come up with a wonderful idea of striking a bargain with her: Harriet could join her brothers in their game if she sincerely worked to learn the art of needling. This day, however, Molly gaily joined her daughter with her own knitting, assisting Harriet with her work when she called for help.
Over the past days of Harriet's stay, Molly noticed the changes in her daughter, some obvious and others subtle. One major change in Harriet, Molly acceded to herself, was that of her demeanour, which had mellowed a lot. Their girl, who used to imitate her brothers in every way she possibly could, now rightly behaved like a Lady of respectable stature. Molly had observed with some amusement and also with a little sadness, how her sons struggled to identify the young woman with that of Harry, their animated, zealous sister at times.
Determined to keep herself occupied at all waking hours, Harriet used the opportunity when she wasn't working, to visit her acquaintances- Mr and Mrs. Pomfrey, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall and few others in Biddestone. They were all as delighted to receive her, as Harriet was to meet them again. Now that they had her singular attention, each of them seemed very interested to know about her life as Mistress of the Malfoy house. Harriet divulged to them about her new role as Lady Malfoy with competence and sobriety, the job expected of her, and her relationship with Alexandra Malfoy with obvious adoration and respect. But when they asked about her husband, Harriet had to stifle her anguish and fabricate lies with the assurance that Draco took great care of her and that she was quite content in her marriage. Noting Harriet's abridgement regarding her espousal matters, they decided not to press for details, respecting the privacy of her and her husband.
Of all the people in Biddestone Harriet wanted to reacquaint herself with, she was most agog to see her best friend again. But after the last meeting with the Grangers', Harriet wasn't very eager to have another encounter with Hermione's parents. In the past, Harriet had no qualms about calling in on them without ceremony, but the fact that she now had to resort to the Weasleys' maid, Alice's help in informing Hermione of her presence in The Burrow, annoyed her to no end. In response, Hermione had sent her a note, forlornly apprising her that she could no longer visit The Burrow until their engagement, for the sake of propriety, she had added.
Harriet's first impulse after reading it had been to storm up to their home and give Bernard Granger a piece of her mind. After a moment's thoughtful pause, Harriet reckoned that they should have foreseen Bernard's this next course of action after sending Arthur and Molly on their way back to The Burrow with his unyielding conditions. Harriet realised sagely that the Grangers' would definitely be cautious, if not absolutely averse, about leaving their daughter and Ronald unattended now that they had learnt of their feelings for each other. And that meant no more visits to The Burrow for Hermione. In spite of this recognition, Harriet darkly thought that Mrs. Granger could have accompanied her daughter to The Burrow instead of completely forbidding her tarriances. On the other hand, Harriet discerned with a huff, after Bernard's blunt objection to making their engagement official, his wife would clearly be feeling awkward about approaching Hermione's intended's house.
But Harriet's irritation to this current situation was nothing compared to Ron's indignation and enragement at being deprived from courting his beloved. In his desperate longing to meet Hermione, Ron devised a handsome plan. As usual, the difficult part of accomplishing its success fell on Harriet.
Mustering the courage and determination, Harriet strode to the Grangers' residence to invite Hermione to go along with them for Christmas shopping in Calne and then convince her parents to allow her the trip. It wasn't an unreasonable request, for Harriet and Hermione had always gone to make their holiday purchases before the former's marriage and, of course, they had always been escorted by at least one of the Weasley's men.
The Grangers' weren't surprised to discover that Ronald was to be their sole consort this time. But Harriet managed to placate them by pointing out that the place they were going was a market, and that both Ron and Hermione knew not to behave unseemly in public. Furthermore, Harriet gave her word to the adults that she would accept the responsibility of ensuring that nothing untoward happened during the trip.
Fully perceiving that further protests on his part would get him in hot waters with Harriet, Bernard reluctantly agreed.
Hermione was positively glowing at the prospect of spending time with Ron when the sister and the brother arrived at her house with a rented carriage the next morning, especially after his verbal acknowledgement of his love for her.
"Thank you, Harry," Hermione whispered fervently after Ron assisted her into their transport.
"No problem." Harriet smiled softly.
On their journey to Calne, Harriet observed Ron and Hermione's interaction with curious interest. Other than stammering shy greetings, they hadn't exchanged a single word. Watching them making salacious eyes at each other and then blushing in embarrassment at being caught, Harriet found it weird, in an amusing sort of way, to see them now struggling to strike up a conversation with the other when they had, in fact, done nothing but bicker, not a month ago. Descrying the furtive looks they kept throwing in her direction, Harriet recognised that unless she jumped out of the carriage and gave them some privacy, they wouldn't make any progress. 'But after all the trouble I went through to bring you together, I have no intention of losing my limbs in the process as well,' Harriet thought with an internal snort.
The instant she stepped onto the snow-covered market street, which was once again bustling with people, Harriet was assaulted with the memory of her last Christmas visit to this place and her escort at that time. Ruthlessly quashing the thoughts of her husband, Harriet decided to enjoy this expedition with her brother and best friend to the fullest.
When Ron had first proposed the idea of a shopping trip to her, Harriet had been inwardly disinclined to pursue it, indisposed to reveal her rather pathetic financial state, a definite consequence she believed, were Ron and Hermione to espy her penny-pinching while buying gifts for the family. But looking at Ron's expectant face, Harriet had no choice but to oblige his wish.
Her worries over the money matters, however, abated when Arthur had summoned her to his study on that morning before they departed to the Grangers' house.
"Father, I don't-," Harriet had only managed to say, staring at the moneybag that her father had just handed to her.
"-You need it," Arthur had misinterpreted, interrupting her and then quipped with a good-humoured smile, "And I am certain that, with the most prosperous gentleman of the county for a husband, you would ever be deficient in that respect."
At his words, Harriet had winced internally.
"Irrespective of that, I wish to fulfil my duties toward my daughter," Arthur had continued, his mood abruptly becoming serious. "Harry, I should have endowed far greater amount than this on you before you married. But circumstances as well as your and Mr. Malfoy's forfeiture tied my hands down."
Harriet had opened her mouth to dismiss his worries but stopped when Arthur shook his head at her. "I do have my suspicions about what concerns might have inspired you to refuse your marriage settlement in the first place."
Harriet had silently watched as Arthur removed his glasses and grazed his closed eyelids with his palm with a heavy sigh. She had been relieved to note the lack of tears in his father's blue eyes when he opened them on her.
Gazing at her for a long moment, Arthur had finally said, "No matter how much it distresses me to assure you in this way, Harry, I will confess that my giving you this money will not discomfort the family in any way."
Looking at her father's compelling expression, which was coupled with a self-shame hidden within the depth of his eyes, Harriet had accepted the gift without further protests.
"Harry, the money is for your personal use, try not to spend it on the gifts for the family," Arthur had suggested ruefully before she exited the room.
Halfway through their shopping, Ron directed them to the doorstep of a women's clothing store and departed for few minutes to make his own purchases. Inside, Harriet assisted Hermione in selecting the material for her Christmas dress. Hermione paused in her perusal of varied, shimmering silk and satin fabrics when the shopkeeper moved away to attend to other customers who just entered the store. She watched her friend who was browsing through the materials spread out before them.
"Harry," Hermione addressed in a whisper. "There has been something bothering me for some time now."
Glancing up at her, Harriet enquired in concern, "What is it, Hermione?"
Hermione bit her lip; searching for a way to express herself without causing Harriet to slip into a defensive mood. "About what you said to my parents that day-"
"Hermione, if you are hoping that I would apologise to your parents for the way I behaved that day, then I am afraid to say that you will be disappointed because I won't do it," Harriet said tersely, interrupting her.
Hermione shook her head vehemently. "I don't expect you to, Harry," she said, causing her friend to blink in confusion. "No, I was referring to your words that abstractly meant that riches can't comfort you when you are unhappy at heart."
Beside her, Harriet tensed and then deliberately returning her gaze to the materials, she asked flippantly, "What about it?"
Worrying her lips, Hermione eyed Harriet for a moment and then hesitantly answered, "Well, I cannot seem to ignore this feeling that…er… those words were spoken more out of a personal experience rather than spontaneously formed to convince my parents. Especially out of your mouth."
Harriet just made a dismissive noise.
Intensely dissatisfied with her response, Hermione grabbed Harriet's arm and urged desperately, "Tell me this feeling is wrong, Harry. Tell me that you are happy."
When Harriet hesitated to reply, Hermione, whose face was contorted in concern, shook her hand, insisting her black-haired friend to meet her gaze. "Even if I am right, Harry, please tell me it was an experience of the past when Mr. Malfoy wasn't talking to you properly. Please tell that you no longer suffer that kind of pain."
To Harriet's gratitude, the shopkeeper returned and, glancing between the young women, he asked, "Have you chosen, Misses?"
"Yes, this blue one," Hermione answered carelessly, her mind still focussed on her friend.
Knowing that she couldn't get away without answering, Harriet looked up again and smiled reassuringly at her agitated friend. "I no longer suffer that kind of pain. You don't have to worry about me, Hermione," she stated quietly, once the man departed again to pack their purchase.
With an immense effort, Harriet managed to retain the smile for as long as Hermione subjected her to a searching look. After a long moment, Hermione nodded and returned her smile with a slightly uncertain one.
Their last destination was Fred and George's joke shop. Ron and Hermione were spared from their ribbing, for the twins were busy attending to their crowd of customers.
"Ron, why don't you escort Hermione to the confectionery down the street?" Harriet suggested slyly when they were finished with their purchases.
Ron looked very enthusiastic at the idea whilst Hermione's eyes widened a bit, and her cheeks pinked. "But what about the promise you made to my parents?" she asked, staring at Harriet.
"My loyalties lie with you, Hermione, not with your parents," Harriet responded with an unconcerned shrug and then, pushed them in the direction of the door.
"What about you, Harry?" Ron questioned with a frown, looking over his shoulder.
"I am sure Fred and George could keep me entertained for some time. Now, stop dawdling and go," Harriet ordered with a chaffing smile.
Nodding, Ron extended his arm to a blushing Hermione, and they both disappeared through the entrance.
"What are you doing, Ron?" Hermione asked rhetorically, her cheeks tinged red as she demurely extracted her hand from under his larger one.
Noticing the slight hurt look on his freckled face, Hermione, torn between wanting to continue feeling the pleasant fluttering in her stomach caused by his touch and needing to maintain propriety, whispered in a gentle, commiserate sort of way, "Someone might sees us."
"But, there is no one we know is here," Ron groused after giving a cursory glance around the room.
"Harry already took a risk on her integrity as well as on our chances of getting married by providing us an opportunity to meet in this manner," Hermione explained reasonably and lowering her head, she added in an embarrassed mutter, "It wouldn't be prudent to complicate matters for her and for us by being caught in a compromising situation. Harry trusted us not to when she sent us away."
Ron's face twisted in deep frustration but he grunted in accession, nonetheless.
"Oh, there they are, Harry!" Fred said, pointing to the young couple seated in a cosy corner when Harriet and he arrived at the confectionery. "Let's go."
Noticing the mischievous glint in Fred's eyes, Harriet stopped him in his tracks by seizing his arm. "Oh no, Fred, I know what you are intend to do. And I won't allow it," Harriet declared firmly.
"But…." Fred started, pouting at her.
Harriet shook her head at him. "They finally managed to get some alone time. I won't let you spoil it for them," Harriet said determinedly. "Go now, I can take it from here."
Fred's face fell in a sense of mild disappointment, seeing such an entertaining opportunity slip by. "You are not fun anymore, Harry," Fred accused grumpily as he turned back to return to his shop.
Watching her brother walk away, Harriet frowned with slight offence and then sighed in resignation.
As she approached the table the couple was currently occupying, Harriet smiled, noting how close their hands were lying on the wooden surface without actually touching. Harriet cleared her throat lightly to get their attention when they continued to remain ignorant of her presence.
Harriet's amusement mounted when Ron and Hermione visibly jolted out of their stupor. "Harry!" Ron exclaimed, being the first one to compose himself.
"Ron, Hermione, I apologize for interrupting you, but it is a quarter past three. I think we should return to home now," Harriet suggested, glancing between them.
"Oh, I didn't realise that we were gone for almost two hours. I am sorry for making you wait, Harry," Hermione apologised, her face contorted in embarrassment and self-chagrin, whilst Ron nodded with the same sentiment.
"Don't worry about it," Harriet assured them with a soft smile. "Shall we leave?"
"Harry, how did you get here?" Ron enquired in worry.
"Oh, Fred escorted me up to the entrance," Harriet said blithely and Ron nodded again.
Half an hour later, Harriet watched from her window seat of the carriage as Ron walked Hermione up to the Grangers' doorstep. Harriet smiled as she watched them exchange farewells. A sense of happiness for them combined with pride for herself swirled within her heart as Harriet felt their love and affection for each other. Harriet could foresee their future filled with predilection and harmony in their life long companionship, complete with brood of lively yet adorable children. Harriet's indulgent smile, however, dissolved when she thought of her own life. Compared to theirs, her own future looked cold, bleak and solitary. 'My present is no better, is it? Married to the man who does not care a single whit for me beyond the appearances,' Harriet thought with a wry snort as she figured her glove-clad wedding ring. Harriet's perception substantiated as each day passed without Draco's appearance at The Burrow or at least a single word from him.
Harriet ducked her head to hide her tears as Ron re-embarked the carriage. Ron was still too immersed in his dreamy world to notice the change in Harriet's countenance.
One late Sunday afternoon found Draco and Alexandra conversing in the drawing room. It hadn't missed Draco's notice that Alexandra has gotten progressively sulky over the days. While Alexandra had been careful enough not to reveal through her demeanour, Draco has known her all his life and could identify the state of her mind. He, then, felt guilt for being the cause, at least partly. His own contention at not having to share the Master Suite with Harriet hadn't lasted long. Likely, because his wife had never intruded upon his personal space and had respected his privacy most of the time. Additionally, the Manor had never felt more silent and daunting then it did now, Draco noted with a grimace.
"Sir, Mrs. Pritchard and her granddaughter, Miss Bulstrode are here, and they wish to see you," Landen informed after entering the room and offering his salutations.
Draco lifted his brows in bemusement. "Guide them to the parlour, Landen. Inform them that I will be joining in a few minutes," he ordered after a thoughtful minute and glanced at his grandmother who was looking at him in enquiry.
"Yes, Sir." Landen withdrew with a bow.
"Were you expecting their visit, Draco?" Alexandra queried curiously.
Draco simply shook his head and then, standing, he said, "Would you accompany me in this meeting, Grandmother?"
For the sake of propriety was left unsaid but Alexandra understood and obliged by rising from her seat and accepting Draco's proffered arm.
Upon entering the parlour, Draco found the two women seated on the settee, perusing the room's elegant décor with the expressions of wonder and bedazzle.
"Mrs. Pritchard, Miss Bulstrode," Alexandra addressed cordially, announcing their presence. "How do you do?" she added when the women quickly stood and turned to face their hosts, slightly awestruck.
The two women curtsied respectfully to the aristocrats with the echo, some daze apparent in their tones, "Lady Malfoy, Lord Malfoy."
Both Alexandra and Draco returned their greetings and then they took a chair each across the settee while gesturing to the women to reoccupy it.
Looking at the women before them, Draco found it impossible not to note the ample contrast in the women's physical features, especially with them sitting side by side. Whilst Millicent was a young, black-haired woman with a large, square build, Mrs. Pritchard was a short and tenuous sort of an elderly woman with auburn hair, which was greying around the edges.
"To what do we owe this surprise?" Draco drawled, glancing between the women.
"Sir," Mrs. Pritchard started in a slightly squeaky voice, fixing her gaze on Draco. "We came to the Manor today, so that I could personally thank you for your generous deed of-" she hesitated, darting an anxious look at Alexandra, unsure that she should divulge the matter in front of her.
Understanding her quandary, "My grandmother has been made aware of the entire situation. My grandfather and she were the reason why Vincent Crabbe is a charge of our family," Draco informed them briskly.
The two women turned and blinked at the said woman in amazement, causing Alexandra to grace them with a tiny smile. A moment later, Mrs. Pritchard nodded and continued, "We came to the Manor today, so that I could personally thank you for your generous deed of convincing my son-in-law to agree to Millicent and Vincent's union."
Draco could not describe the emotion he was feeling at the profound sincerity and admiration that belied Mrs. Pritchard's voice and Millicent's face, but the last time he felt this kind of emotion was a very long time ago, the time when he had last seen Anna. With a throat too constricted to give a verbal acknowledgement, Draco simply inclined his head at them.
Misconstruing the reason for Draco's bland response as her grandmother's laconic form of gratitude, Millicent became agitated and spoke up in her deep voice, "You did more than make arrangements for Vinc-" she paused upon seeing the arched brow on Draco's face and flushed in embarrassment. "Er…Mr. Crabbe's marriage to me, Sir. You saved me from a life of dissatisfaction and grief," she confessed with a strong intent.
The forcefulness in Milicent's tone caused Draco to raise his other eyebrow to join the first one in incredulity whilst Mrs. Pritchard looked immensely mortified. The older woman leaned towards her granddaughter and chided in a furious whisper, "You don't have to concern them with your past, Millie, which is no longer an issue."
"No, Mrs. Pritchard. I would like to know what Miss Bulstrode has to say," Alexandra intoned interestedly, flicking her gaze back to Millicent, she said, "Do continue, dear."
Encouraged by Alexandra's words, Millicent found it easier to focus on her gentle face rather than on the stolid countenance of Draco while speaking. "You know my stepbrother, Melvin?"
"I believe I met the young man on a couple of occasions," Alexandra replied calmly and then, glancing at her grandson, she questioned, "Draco?"
"I have as well," Draco managed to admit quietly.
Nodding once, Millicent went on. "Well, he is presently apprenticing with one Mr. Rosier, learning about trade. I met the man once when Melvin invited him along to our house. Recently, Mr. Rosier offered to establish my brother in the field in exchange for my hand in marriage and Melvin agreed. My brother, then, came back to Tisbury to convince my father. Understanding how advantageous this marriage would be for Melvin and thus, my family, Father accepted Mr. Rosier's proposal without bothering with my opinion. I knew nothing of my impending marriage until the day Mr. Rosier arrived at our home, talking of courting me. Consumed by the panic and horror of finding myself engaged to a man of four and sixty, I left the house at the first opportunity I got to seek out Vin—Mr. Crabbe. I managed to stumble upon him on his way back here. But that afternoon, father caught us when Mr. Crabbe was comforting me."
Draco suppressed a dry snort at her last words, having the knowledge of exactly how Crabbe was soothing her. Millicent's father had been obscenely blunt with him while expounding on the state in which he had found them.
"I brought a gift for you, Sir," Millicent admitted tentatively, extending a package to him. "A small token to show how immensely grateful I am to you."
Draco blinked in amazement and after a moment, glancing between the expectant looks of their guests and Alexandra's approbating expression, he accepted the package, saying, "You are welcome, Miss Bulstrode."
Millicent and Mrs. Pritchard smiled, feeling relaxed at last whilst Alexandra watched their slightly awkward interaction with mild amusement.
"Well, Miss Bulstrode, you have my family's support and blessings to this wedding, as long as you recognise what marriage to Vincent would entail," Alexandra interjected, breaking the silence that lapsed between them for a few moments.
Millicent's face darkened instantly. "Everyone is against my wish to spend the life with Mr. Crabbe; they keep stressing his lack of fortune or his class. If his profession hadn't prevented me from consorting with him, then why would they think that his status as a vassal would bother me! Why is it still so difficult for people to understand our love when Lord Malfoy did!" she seethed, her broad shoulders and ample bosom heaving in affront.
"Millicent, apologise right now!" Mrs. Pritchard chastised in a horrified squawk, directing a glare at her granddaughter while Draco and Alexandra watched the aggressive, young woman in shock.
Flushing in shame and embarrassment, "I am sorry, Lady Malfoy," Millicent mumbled, her gaze downcast.
Recovering herself in the next instant, Alexandra said, "Forgiven, but do try to contain your effusions, Miss Bulstrode. Not everyone would be sympathetic to your woes."
The colour on Millicent's high cheeks deepened upon hearing the disapprobatory tone of Alexandra.
Draco stared at them without actual seeing them, lost in his own disturbing thoughts. Draco could conceive that Millicent was implying his wife when she spoke of those people. Draco found it ironic that Millicent should arraign Harriet of trying to separate them when, in fact, he had been one to blame. That Millicent, who came to show her appreciation to him, was unknowingly condemning him. His outrage at Millicent on behalf of himself was, however, overshadowed by the guilt Draco was feeling stirring in his gut upon discovering how utterly his wife has been misinterpreted when she should be credited; that Draco could not alter Millicent's misconception without confessing the truth and thus displaying himself as the cruel tyrant.
"Now Mrs. Pritchard, I believe you live in Dorset," Alexandra mentioned amicably, turning to face her.
"Yes, Lady Malfoy, I came to Tisbury thereafter receiving Millicent's letter," Mrs. Pritchard replied politely. "I intend to stay until her wedding."
"Well, now that we have learned more of this matter, we will do everything in our power to ensure their marriage," Alexandra assured the woman. "In the meanwhile, do not hesitate to inform us if either of you have any trouble at home. We will arrange for your accommodations till Vincent and Millicent are wedded."
"You are too kind, Ma'am," Mrs. Pritchard remarked, misty-eyed. "How could I ever repay you?"
"There is no need for that, Mrs. Pritchard," Alexandra softly dismissed her words.
"I can rest at ease now, knowing that Millicent will be under your guardianship after marriage," Mrs. Pritchard sniffled and then, taking her handkerchief from her purse, she dabbed her eyes and nostrils with it.
Millicent and her grandmother took their leave shortly afterwards with Draco escorting them to the courtyard where their carriage was waiting.
"Draco, I don't remember saying this before," Alexandra said with a brilliant smile when Draco returned the parlour. "But you should know how incredibly proud I am of you, darling."
Even at the age of nine and twenty, Draco still craved his grandmother's commendation, and more than that of others, because it meant that he had done the right thing rather than accomplish what was already expected of him as the Lord of the Malfoy family. But today, he felt no jubilation. Instead, Alexandra's praise only served to intensify his guilt by tenfold.
"Oh, I can't wait to inform Harriet about this matter, Draco!" Alexandra exclaimed suddenly, beaming at him. "I am certain her heart will swell with pride and esteem for you once she knows what you have done."
Draco flinched internally, remembering the evident truth of his grandmother's statement as the last memory of Harriet flashed in his mind. Yearning for seclusion, Draco took leave of his grandmother and meandered towards his study, afraid that Alexandra would notice his troubled state if he stayed longer. Also, Draco wanted to contemplate his equivocal feelings for Harriet and over her actions in solitude.
Two weeks passed since the Malfoys had shared a meal with Harriet. This awareness kept pounding at Draco without his consent.
During the evening meal, Alexandra silently watched for a long time as Draco absentmindedly played with his food while his gaze constantly flitted towards Harriet's empty seat.
"Draco, if you miss Harriet so much, why don't you retrieve her from The Burrow?" Alexandra advised him with candour, but also with gentleness to her tone.
Draco pursed his lips immediately in irritation at her words. For a judicious woman, his grandmother surely took frequent trips to a romanticised, hallucinatory world, Draco thought with a snort, otherwise why would she say such an absurd thing. Him, miss his high-strung wife, not a chance!
And just to prove how very mistaken his grandmother was, Draco made a point not to look at his wife's vacant spot for the rest of the meal.
Draco's response caused Alexandra to release a heavy sigh.
Author's note: You are all disappointed that Harriet hasn't returned to the Manor, aren't you?
I apologise for it, but like I said it was only one-third of the chapter I had originally intended to write. I promise she will come back in the next chapter, but the question is how?
Coming to the common questions of the readers that I have delayed in answering,
Firstly, let me reveal to you that I had the whole story of Lady Malfoy outlined (I had actually written the chapter names and plans for each chapter including the epilogue, yes, there is going to be one) before I started writing the story. I just elaborate on those plans whenever I sit to write a new chapter. I add little scenes (like the trip to Stonehenge, something that I didn't plan on before) now and then as long as they do not affect the original plotline. I assure that I am not dragging this story because I don't know where to go from here. Emily's wedding and First anniversary were kind of like breathers from the issues that our protagonists are about to face in the near future.
So, it really frustrated me to no end that I couldn't pen this chapter down when I knew what I wanted to write. Unsavoury incident of personal life really put a damper on my writing, I guess.
I myself am a romantic at heart. And I truly hate stories that don't have happy ending. This story WILL have a happy ending for both Harriet and Draco. I know it really feels bad to see them currently at odd with each other, (*hiding behind a strong wall*, I confess that it is only going to get worst).
Since I can't assuage you further without giving away the whole story, I will borrow a dialogue of the batman movie, recent one, 'The dark knight' to summarised this story, 'The night is always darkest before dawn' or something like that.
This story is a love story, yes, but certainly not a fairytale one, guys, I am sorry if you are expecting it to be. After all those chapters, it is quite needless to say that Draco is not Prince Charming. Also, Harriet is not Cinderella, you will see. I mean, with Ron and Hermione who have lot in common in their basic values, despite some of their little quirks, can't be expected to have a fairytale love story, then Harriet and Draco who are poles apart could hardly have one. And that's what makes their pairing so interesting isn't it?
Other thing I wanted to clear is, as stated in the summary, this is a story that revolves around Harriet Potter, and as such, involves her relationship with her family, friends, foes, etc. Though the major focus is on her relationship with her husband, Draco Malfoy, it won't be the only focus. If it had been one-on-one between Harry and Draco, I would have written the summary something along these lines, 'It's a story of how two people brought together by fate, find love when they least expected it.' The reason I introduced/will be introducing so many characters (canon or OCs) is because they will all have a part to play whether small or large by the end of the story. It is NOT because I love to have a large character list to my story. Having to deal with so many characters is no fun task because the risk of my making typo as well as name-spelling errors only increases several times.
A couple of you asked whether History is my major in college?
No, its not, in fact I haven't had to study history for last three years, much to my relief and my school teacher's secret one, I am sure. No offence to those who are studying/ did study history, but I wasn't all that enamoured with wars and politics that filled my schoolbooks. To tell you the truth, my history class went in the similar fashion as Harry's did at Hogwarts. lol. My falling in love with Victorian era happened like something I never expected it to.
Yes, this story was inspired by Pride and Prejudice in the sense of 19th century people's lifestyle and nothing more. Also, while P&P was set in Regency era, Lady Malfoy is set in Victorian era, almost half of decade of difference. My main reason for giving up on regency era was lack of wide scope of employment opportunities for middle-class women, there certainly was no bold profession called nursing then. Unlike 21st century where a woman can alleviate in money or status through work or education, the only option 19th century woman had was to marry a gentleman of higher rank or at least on her own. This is the reason why everyone was shocked at Millicent's decision to marry someone of a lower rank. This was the general scenario for young women of those times.
Coming to the question that appears in almost every review: when will romance blossom between Harriet and Draco?
I am afraid to say you will have wait a little longer. I know you probably are sick and tired of hearing this excuse of mine. During my break, I did consider simply creating a situation where Harry and Draco confess their love for each other and live happily ever after with their cute children, but then I went and re-considered what I planned to write originally as well as your reviews and discovered that you will most probably enjoy my original storyline rather than a jump to their romance. In conclusion, I have decided to stick with it and ardently request you guys to be patient and sit back and enjoy as Harry and Draco's tumultuous marriage unfolds.
At present, I can say that the story has 35 chapters, but like before if I split chapter/s then there might be 2 or 4 chapters more.
Few of you asked if someone will find out about the truth of their marriage: * hardly biting my lip to stop myself from blurting out* because I can't answer that now. Sorry. * I am still hiding behind my wall *
Nikolas: I could not find what word I am missing in that letter. If you have any recommendations, please let me know. I will consider adding it if it is really missing.
mklw : I have put the address to site where I found the marriage vows in my profile page. You can check it out there.
FlyingOctopus: The money Harriet gave to Ron to be given to Mr. Holland was something between 3 or 4 pounds. At that time, though 4 pounds was considered significant, Harriet was the mistress of wealthiest family in the county, and as such, she won't be expected to consult with her husband for spending (especially when it came from her pocket money) what high-class considered it as small amount. Also, Harry is not the kind to spend money but she recognised the need for it at that moment. I am afraid you will have to wait for the next chapter to get the answers to your other questions * sheepish smile *