Hermione realized how very drunk she was when she tried to push her way through the crowd after Draco. The floor swooped and then fell away again, and she staggered a bit. A wizard she didn't know in a tight blue velvet suit and a pair of rabbit ears pretended to try to steady her so he could grab a handful of her arse. She swung an elbow toward his face and missed, then fell into him and cursed herself as she ended up giving him even more of a taste than he'd tried to take. She did manage to grind her foot into his toes as she pretended to apologize for her half-fall. "It's so loud," she yelled into his ear, managing to wordlessly augment the volume so he'd end up half-deafened. "I'm going to go out and get some air."
A braver man might have followed her but, despite the bad judgment he'd already displayed, he was smart enough to just step back and tell her to be careful.
She found Draco outside. He'd lit a Muggle cigarette, of all things, and was leaning against a brick wall with a painted advertisement for House Elf services. His back was to the club and as she watched he took a look drag then dropped the cigarette and ground it under his heel before slamming the side of his fist into the wall.
"That'll break your hand," she said. She took an unsteady step toward him and he turned, his face blank. "You okay?"
"I'm better than you are," he said. He tossed her a vial that she scrambled to catch with no success. It landed, unbroken, on the cobblestones and he said in a voice like ice. "Sobriety potion. Take it."
"I don't think," she started but even after three whiskeys she could read at least part of the look on his face. Charming, Draco Malfoy could be, and he'd been more than kind to her, but he'd also seen enough atrocities to harden parts of his soul and that was the part that looked out at her. She didn't want to fight with that part drunk but she made a show of wandlessly and wordlessly accioing the vial back to her hand. He quirked a brow at the display but didn't say anything until she'd pulled the cork free and slammed the contents down.
Why did sobriety potion taste like horse piss, was her first thought as clarity burned back through her mind. That was rapidly followed by a sinking feeling of oh shite.
"Feeling better, are we?" Draco asked. "Good. Let's go. Can you manage to apparate yourself home?"
"Draco," she said, setting a hand on his arm. She wanted to apologize, or explain, or ask what in the hell had made him storm off.
He plucked the hand off his sleeve with a show of fastidious distaste. "I am not your palate cleanser," he said. "Do not presume I'm interested in some one night stand with you, Granger, especially if you're pissed off that Weasley couldn't keep it in his pants."
She opened her mouth to say that wasn't what she'd been thinking at all and then decided fuck it. Fuck him. If that's what he wanted to think of her, then fine. "My apologies," she said. "If it's quite all right with you, I think I'm done here. We've been seen and now I think it's time to go back to your house."
"I agree," he said.
They apparated back to Malfoy Manor separately and she nodded at him with every ounce of British brisk courtesy she could manage before telling him she could find her way back to her room on her own and taking off.
She heard what sounded like a fist slamming into a wall and turned, shocked, but Draco didn't even glance up at her. He was fussing with a painting of flowers that wasn't level enough for his taste.
She made it all the way back to her room before tears of rage or humiliation or grief began to leak out of her eyes. She ignored them as resolutely as she had ignored so many things in her time in the wizarding world, took a quick shower, and tucked herself into bed. At least she had set crazy Rodolphus on a path to get Percy free. She would call it a good night for that alone.
. . . . . . . . . . .
Draco pulled her chair out with precision so sharp it almost cut. "Thank you," she said, just as flawlessly courteous, and they played that little game where the man slid the chair back in while the woman balanced her weight on her feet while pretending to sit so he could move the chair along the floor easily. Being female required strength at the strangest times.
That done, she smoothed the napkin over her lap and folded her hands neatly and put a smile on her face that would have done Narcissa proud. It probably did, as the woman was wearing a nearly identical one. It had been a long week of very polite smiles and chillingly perfect assistance as she copied out stolen documents and took walks with her supposed love in very public parts of the Malfoy estate. She'd praised the fading roses. She'd admired the peacocks. She'd done everything shy of picking up a rock and hurling it at Draco Malfoy's head and now it was time to put their little performance on for unwelcome Ministry guests.
Alecto Carrow slouched in her seat. Her yellowing teeth gnawed at a chapped lip and her eyes darted around the other guests as if she were excited about what was to come. Amycus, mercifully, was absent. Yaxley was late. Antonin Dolohov, however, set a packet of folded papers next to his plate and poured himself wine. "Narcissa," he said warmly, "You always have the best vintages."
Alecto looked at Lucius, already three glasses in, and sniggered. Everyone ignored her. Why she'd been invited was a mystery Hermione would rather not probe.
"I'm so pleased you enjoy them," Narcissa said. "Would you like me to forward the name of my sommelier to your own household staff?"
He tilted his head toward her with a dimpling smile. "It's just me, alas. I'm merely a working stiff with no time for the gracious things in life."
Lucius let out a snort that turned into a cough. "I'm surprised you have anything left," Alecto said.
"The cellars of Malfoy Manor are not insubstantial," Narcissa said. "Things do get lost down there, though. I once found a room of old wine that Abraxas had put away, all forgotten so long it had gone to vinegar."
"Pity," Dolohov said.
"Old things do go bad," Narcissa said blandly. "One has to always invest in the new."
Hermione could feel eyes on her and she kept her smile in place. These dinners were a special sort of hell and she missed the blunt arguing of the Weasley clan. Salads arrived, and, as if lettuce signaled it was time to move forward to another stage in the political jostling, Dolohov chewed one mouthful, swallowed, then unfolded the papers he'd brought with him. "Speaking of new, I was hoping Lord Yaxley would be on time so I could consult with him informally about our newest problem. Did he happen to mention what time he planned to arrive?"
Lucius shrugged, took another sip of wine, then said, "He doesn't bother to fill me in on his comings and goings."
"He didn't say anything," Narcissa said. "What seems to be the matter? Perhaps dear Alecto could shed some light on the issue."
That seemed about as unlikely as cats taking up ballroom dancing, but Hermione waited to see how Dolohov would respond. He passed his papers over not to Alecto but Narcissa and she glanced though them. "My," she said at last. "That's unfortunate. Do you know how it happened?"
She passed the papers to Alecto who looked at them far too quickly to have read whatever information they held. She must have been satisfied by the pictures because she sneered and said, "That's what happens when you trust the Ministry."
"We are the Ministry," Dolohov said. He reached out and plucked the documents out of her fingers. "Try to remember that, my dear."
"What happened?" Draco asked when it became obvious no one planned to hand him – or her - the papers.
Dolohov sighed and took another few bites of his salad before answering. Just when Hermione had begun to think he was going to ignore the question, just when she'd started to worry what that might imply, he said, "Someone broke Percy Weasley out of custody and we have no idea who or where the Weasley boy is now."
"I'd think it was you," Alecto said, pointing a stubby finger at Hermione. "Draco here keeps you on too long a leash."
"I don't leash her at all," Draco said with somewhat obvious irritation. "That's something people reserve for animals." His look made it clear he meant Alecto.
"Alecto," Dolohov said with a theatrical sigh. "This is an example of your loyalty superseding your sense again. Remember how we talked about that at your last performance review? Miss Granger has been here all week. At least a dozen different people have seen her at random times, walking around. She's been feeding the peacocks, not fomenting rebellion."
Alecto scowled and Dolohov sent an apologetic look toward Hermione. "The possibility was raised," he said. She didn't believe the regret in his tone for a moment. If she hadn't become nothing but lies by now she might have sagged in relief that her cover as Draco Malfoy's girlfriend had held but habit kept her upright. She shrugged as if to say well, naturally. They would have had to consider she was the traitor. She took a bite of salad. She chewed it. The vinaigrette dressing was lovely. If she just kept thinking about salad and peacocks maybe she wouldn't look much too curious about Percy's escape.
Rodolphus had pulled it off.
She took another bite. The kitchen had added something different today. Was that artichoke hearts? She poked at her plate. It was. How delightful. She smiled at Dolohov.
Percy was free.
"I said," Dolohov said, "how does your wedding planning go? We should talk about more pleasant things and, with Yaxley so rudely missing, it's a bit pointless to go over anyway."
Hermione supposed it was funny. She could keep her guard up when she learned her attempt to suborn the thick, evil bastard that was Rodolphus Lestrange had worked but ask her about marrying Draco Malfoy and she almost choked on her salad. She began to cough which gave her an excuse to hide her face in her napkin. A white dress. Roses. Peacocks wandering through the guests. The idea was horrible. If fate was at all kind she'd escape this role long before she had to let Draco Malfoy slip a ring on her finger and swear to honor her all of his days.
"Miss Granger and I are in the midst of a bit of a dispute about that," Draco said into the awkward pause created by her hacking up a bit of tomato. "Weddings are stressful things."
"Surely not trouble in paradise?" Dolohov asked, all faux concern.
"No," Narcissa said with a look on her face that one might call annoyed. "The children cannot agree on things like color schemes." She frowned at Hermione. "As I've said before, pale green and silver make for lovely colors, both go with white, and they would be thematic with a Christmas wedding."
"It just seems very Slytherin," Hermione said, as if she and Narcissa had ever had a single conversation about this in their lives.
"But you've set a date?"
"Oh, yes," Narcissa said. "We haven't sent out invitations yet – "
"Another thing we disagree on," Draco muttered.
" – but the children will be saying their vows on December 24th."
This was news to Hermione. That was in less than two months. She managed not to choke on her lettuce this time, however. Lucius spit his wine across the table and she and he exchanged looks. For the first time in their lives they were in perfect, horrified accord.
"Do the Malfoys still do permanent bonding vows?" Alecto asked.
"Yes," Narcissa said, a lift to her brows as though the question were beyond inexplicable. Alecto might have been asking if the Malfoys wore clothing in public or showered regularly. The answer was beyond obvious. The question impertinent. "Always."
Alecto raised her glass toward Hermione with a gleam in her eye. "Well, then, Miss Mudblood. Congratulations on your social promotion. You're almost like a real person now."
Draco stood so rapidly at that his chair fell behind him, pulled his arm back, and slammed a fist into Alecto's smirking face.
. . . . . . . . .
A/N – Thank you to Salazars for beta reading for me. She is a treasure.
Thank you to slytherinxbadxgirl, wynkenblyken, and no-place-like-it for helping me pin down what time of the year we must be in so I could plan a Christmas wedding.