"He placed a what on your vault?" Ginny Weasley exclaimed, nearly shooting off the paisley printed couch that she was seated on. The youngest Weasley had immediately come running to the door when Hermione had shown up on the stoop of 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry was still at work, but would be arriving home sometime soon. Which most likely meant that Ron would be with him.
"He placed a Dotis Nomine claim. It's old magic, but still has effect today. But what I can't figure out is why Lucius Malfoy would place such a thing on my vault, of all things. I'm not his favorite breed, after all." Hermione spoke, the last part of the statement leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.
There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that something sinister was brewing. Lucius Malfoy was a man with means, and a man with motive. He had a plan, but what it could be was a number of things. Just thinking about it made Hermione's skin crawl, and she forced herself to think of more positive things.
"You can't say things like that about yourself, Hermione. Lucius Malfoy is a pure blooded prick with no respect for anyone but himself." Ginny huffed. The young ginger was a bit red in the face, which matched the fiery tones of her waist length hair.
"A dowry claim used to be very common in pureblood families. They used it to ensure power and cooperation when it came to arranged marriages and familial dealings." Hermione sighed. She had done some immediate research into the topic of dotis nomine claims as soon as she had access to the Black family library. With a quick spell, she had located a book with enough information for her brain to process the general idea of what it was.
"Well, it's an outdated and misogynistic practice that should die." Ginny grumbled, letting her feminist witch side flash a bit.
It was at that moment that the front door of number 12 Grimmauld Place clapped open, and the voices of Harry and Ron filled the foyer, drawing both of the girl's attention away from the conversation that they had been having. The rambunctious duo of Aurors came rambling into the living room, making a ruckus about something that had occurred at work. It took them more than a minute to realize that the two young witches were also in attendance.
"Hermione! I wasn't expecting to be seeing you." Harry said, surprised by the sudden appearance of his closest female friend. Hermione gave him a timid smile, before welcoming him into a familiar embrace. Once they parted after a few seconds, Harry turned his immediate attention to Ginny, and Ron gave Hermione a polite nod before waving awkwardly.
Oh, how the mighty had fallen when it came to the romantic relationship that Ron and Hermione had briskly entered into. It wasn't for lack of passion, or for lack of love for that matter. It just hadn't been a good pairing in the long run. Ron had wanted to rush into things head on, while Hermione wanted to take their relationship slow. Having two clashing opinions ended with her taking time away, and they had never really reconciled since Hermione had taken her tour around the world. Ron and her were still friends; they had lived through hell together, after all. But finding a new balance after their small fling was still proving to be a bit difficult.
"May I ask why I have the pleasure of hosting the brightest witch of our age in my living room? I thought you were getting things settled to start your job at the Ministry on Monday." Harry asked Hermione. The young witch looked between her closest friends with a face of defeat, before she went to the couch to retrieve the papers that Grepken had handed her at Gringotts earlier that afternoon.
Withdrawing the stack of now slightly crumpled parchment from her charmed bag, Hermione delivered the stack of overwhelming paperwork to Harry. Gingerly, he took the collection of paperwork, and began scanning through it thoroughly. As each sentence passed through Harry's mind, you could see the anger begin to boil beneath his skin. The scar that adorned his forehead creased in irritation as he continued reading on. When he reached the end of the second page, he had obviously had enough, and threw the collection of paper onto the couch.
"What is this?" He spat, and Hermione shrugged. She herself was as clueless as anyone else.
"What's happened?" Ron asked, oblivious to the events that were unfurling around him.
"Lucius Malfoy has taken out some kind of claim against Hermione's vault at Gringotts. According to that parchment, she can neither access or deposit into her bank account until the terms of the claim have been settled." Harry summarized the effects of the claim to his best friend, and Ron's face instantly harderend at the mention of the Malfoy name.
"What does that bloody bastard have against 'Mione anyway? What kind of claim would he even put against her?" Ron asked, and Hermione stepped in to explain the Latin title.
"He's taken out a Dotis Nomine claim, Ron. It means dowry."
"Dowry, as in marriage?" Ron cried, and his face began to turn the same shade of rash red that his younger sister had earlier.
"I don't know why that sadist of a man would want anything to do with Hermione. Both he and his beloved heir are criminals, and they both belong in Azkaban." Ginny slumped back down into an armchair that was situated into the corner of the sitting room. Harry placed a comforting hand on his girlfriend's shoulder before turning back to Hermione.
"Well, what are you going to do, Hermione? Certainly you've owled Mr. Whittlesbeak about this." Harry also used the same solicitor to handle his legal matters, and knew that he was exactly the man to call in this current predicament.
"Of course I have, Harry! I sent one as soon as I left Gringotts. In fact, I should be receiving a response any minute now." Hermione huffed, looking down at the watch on her wrist. It was almost quarter till seven, the common time that Mr. Whittlesbeak would be sending out his last owls of the day. Looking to the window of 12 Grimmauld Place, Hermione hoped that answers would come soon. And as if the universe could read the young witches mind, a sudden tapping sounded at the paned glass of the kitchen, where the whole group of young witches and wizards rushed to see the response that they were awaiting.
Though the owl that awaited them on the sill was not Mr. Whittlesbeak usual tawny barn owl, but a majestic horned owl with silvery feathers and a proud face. Once Hermione opened the window for the grand creature, it gracefully flew in and dropped a crisp piece of parchment on the table, swooped back out into the October air, and did not even pause for a reward.
Looking warily at the folded piece of parchment that lay before them all, a deep feeling of unsettlement filled Hermione's stomach. She knew indefinitely, from the script M pressed into the ornate, emerald colored wax, that this letter was from the Malfoy family. She more than dreaded opening such a letter, she feared it.
"Well, see what it has to say, Hermione." Harry nudged her, and Hermione hesitantly reached out, grasping the parchment in her hands. It felt like a ember in her grasp, growing warmer by the second.
Unfurling the heavy weight of the paper, she popped the seal with a satisfying pluck! Hermione unfolded the perfectly creased paper, and read aloud the letters contents.
To Miss Hermione Granger:
You are cordially invited to Malfoy Manor tomorrow, October 12th, for tea at 4pm.
Please dress appropriately.
Sincerely,
Lady Narcissa Malfoy
Mistress of the House
"You aren't seriously going to go, are you?" Ginny asked incredulously.
"From this, I don't really think I have a choice, now do I?"
-00000-
Draco Malfoy watched the flames dance within the hearth of his ancestral home's many sitting rooms, focusing on how the flames shifted between the colors of red, orange and yellow. He could hear the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece slowly turning as the seconds passed by.
"She's responded with an acceptance!" Narcissa Malfoy, his beloved mother, was the one to break the young heir's concentration when she came gliding into the somewhat dimly lit room, grasping a piece of parchment. She had been anxiously awaiting an owl for what seemed like hours.
"I was certain that she would." Lucius Malfoy rose from the chair that he had been occupying, the book that had previously held his attention now curtly tucked under his arm.
Of course Granger had accepted. Lucius had placed a dotis nomine claim against the young witches vault, successfully separating her from her income. There was no way that the bushy haired witch wouldn't be showing up at the doorstep of Malfoy Manor, precisely at two o'clock tomorrow. Probably five minutes till, considering Granger's affinity for being early to things, Draco chuckled to himself.
"Are you sure that this is the proper way to handle this, Lucius? Surely there are other ways to get Ms. Granger's attention...to save him." Narcissa mused. Draco's mother had hardly been a fan of their plan from the start, and questioning Lucius' decision was probably not winning her any favors with her husband. But she also knew that she would do anything to save her son.
"She's a stubborn young woman, Narcissa. We'll have to break her, and then piece her back together if we want to get what we need from her." Lucius sniped, and Draco felt an urge of annoyance about the way his father was speaking about Granger.
"She's not just stubborn, Father. She's bloody intelligent as well. She's never going to simply say yes." Draco spoke for the first time, still gazing at the fire. Lucius turned to his son, an expression of displeasure filling his striking features. Draco knew that his father had never been an admirer of back-talk, but the youngest Malfoy sought it to be necessary to clarify such information.
"Draco darling, please. Stop cursing. It's quite improper." Narcissa chastised her son. Draco bowed his head in apology to his mother. Even in the private of their own home, formalities and manners always took precedent.
"She may be intelligent, my son. But we need her to be compliant. The only way we can get ourselves out of the current situation we are in is by the grace of Ms. Granger. As much as it sickens me to say it. This is what has to be done if we wish to continue living the life that we know, you especially." Lucius Malfoy was less than galvanized about his family's impending meeting with the female member of the beloved Golden Trio. In fact, he wished he could erase the circumstances that needed such a meeting all together. But tradition was tradition, and he would be damned if he would be the first Malfoy in a long line of familial obligation and tradition following members to blatantly disregard the warning he had known all his life.
"Hermione Granger isn't going to just melt like clay in your hands, Father. She's going to fight tooth and nail." Draco turned to face his father. The young Malfoy heir knew the resilience that Hermione Granger held inside her petite frame. She wasn't going to simply lay herself down to the patriarch of the Malfoy family. She would push and pull until she broke, and even then she would still try and raise herself back up. She was a stubborn witch, in more ways than one.
"Well, she won't be mine to break, will she Draco? This is in your hands." Lucius asked his son. Draco looked away from his father's piercing gaze. He knew that the elder Malfoy was right; Hermione was going to be his to deal with. His father was just taunting him, baiting him to see if he would fight back.
"I would hope that he would treat her with a least some level of respect, Lucius. She is still a young woman, after all." Narcissa spoke up from the velvet chaise that she was delicately perched on. Lucius gave his wife a shadowed look, but continued on the conversation with his only son.
"This isn't like we are hosting one of the Greengrass girls. For Salazar's sake, even Miss Parkinson and her overly abundant sexuality would have been a godsend compared to what we are about to endure."
"I will handle her, Father." Draco spoke sternly, wanting to cease the conversation that was beginning to bring him more mental tension than he deemed it worth. Lucius gave his son a hard stare, his stormy eyes searching Draco's face for any sign of falter, but found none. Draco had learned over the years how to resist his father's intimidating stares, and this was no different.
"Do not fail, Draco, for if you do, you will be the one to damn yourself."