Draco watched as Hermione backed away from his mother, fear and panic filling her doe like eyes. For the majority of her visit, Hermione had stood her ground, and had been a force to be reckoned with, just as Draco had predicted she would be. The young witch had always had tenacity, and had handled his father with more restraint than he had expected. Though, he could tell that now her emotions were starting to overwhelm her.
After mumbling some words that were somewhat incoherent to Draco's hearing, Granger quickly turned away from him and his parents. At first her steps were small and timid, but then she was breaking into a full blown run. His mother looked to him in panic, and motioned for him to go after the young witch.
"Fine." He houghed, before striding past his parents to track down the emotionally overcome young woman. The dragon leather soles of his expensive shoes clomped loudly against the shined floors of the manor as he followed the sound of Granger's footsteps. His stride was longer than hers, and soon he caught up to her.
She was standing in front of the fireplace she had used to enter the Manor, her breath rugged and uneven. It was like she was drowning, unable to catch her own breath. Draco thought he should probably leave her be, but she heard him before he could turn around. Her coffee colored eyes caught his own grey ones in an accusatory glance, and Draco hesitated for a moment, unsure what to say to the obviously troubled witch. Though, she beat him to it, with a question that she bit out like a knife piercing flesh.
"How long have you known?" It was a direct statement, but his answer would be the cause of an even greater debate.
"Since my eighteenth birthday. I awoke to it embroidered on the tapestry." Draco admitted, and Hermione's face morphed into a look of absolute horror. He tried not to grimace at her expression; it certainly did not suit her delicate features.
"You've known for two and a half years that someday you would have to marry me, and you said absolutely nothing?!" Hermione shouted, making Draco flinch at the anger that pulsated through her words.
"I didn't know what to say!" Draco shouted back.
"So you and your parents decided to wait eight months before the day that you could possibly die, to tell me, the person who could save you, that I have to marry you?" Hermione snapped, her hands flying to her slender hips.
"My parents didn't know until two months ago. I placed a concealment charm on the tapestry so that my parents couldn't see your name. It worked well for two years, until one day it faded and I forgot to reapply the charm. A beginner mistake, but it cost me everything. In an attempt to repair the 'damage', as my father put it, the Dotis Nomine claim was the only way to lock you in." Draco spoke softly, trying to deescalate the situation from the strong level of tension that it was surmounting.
"You kept it from them?" Hermione asked him, her caramel curls falling to one side as she cocked her head at him curiously. He was surprised she didn't mention anything about the claim.
"I didn't think that you would be ready to be swept into another mental battle so soon after we had just finished fighting such a bloody one. I had never found a proper time to discuss it with them either, and I wasn't going to take over your life just to save my own." Draco admitted part of his reasoning for hiding such a monstrous secret for such a long period of time.
"Are you sure that weren't just ashamed that you'd been matched with a Mudblood?" Hermione scoffed, and Draco gave her a sharp look. She was obviously trying to pick apart his reasoning, but such a foul word coming from her delicately shaped lips irked him in a way that he couldn't explain.
"Don't call yourself that." He growled. Hermione rolled her eyes, moving her hands from her hips to rest crossed against her chest.
"Tell me then, Malfoy. Do you really want to marry me? A Muggle-born? Certainly that blemishes your family's Pureblood reputation." Hermione questioned the young Malfoy heir, her eyes squinted with accusation.
"Blood status doesn't matter to me anymore, Granger. Not in a long time. If the tapestry says that you're the one I'm meant to marry, then that is what the universe has decided for my fate. I just don't want to die." Draco said simply, looking down at the tops of his dress shoes. Hermione gave him a hesitant glance, not knowing if she truly trusted his words, or even him, at all. But she also didn't want him to die because of stupid ancestral curse that he had no control over. Sometimes magic wasn't as wonderful as she wanted it to be.
"I don't want you to die, either." Hermione finally spoke softly, and Draco's head shot up to catch her eyes. He tried to sense the emotions that she was feeling, but she was unreadable.
"So you'll consider everything?" Draco asked, and Hermione closed her eyes, trying not to let everything she had learned today overwhelm her once again. But after a few deep, calming breaths, she decided she was cool enough to respond to his inquiry.
"I need to think. About everything." Hermione spoke carefully, and Draco nodded, understanding that she was going to need space to mull everything over. After all, today had probably been more than a lot to process.
A few beats of silence passed between them before Hermione finally spoke.
"Is there any way I could possibly get my cloak back before I leave, by chance?" Hermione asked quietly, and Draco looked at with surprise at her timid tone. Only a few minutes ago she was screaming at him.
"Of course." Draco replied, before calling for his house elf. "Tooney! Please bring Miss Granger her cloak."
Once again there was a sudden crack!, and the same house elf from earlier popped into the hallway. Hermione's velvet cloak was draped across her shoulder, and a piece of parchment was in Tooney's hand. Draco recognized his mother's seal immediately, and wondered what the house elf had been instructed to give to Granger.
"Here is Mistress' cloak, and a letter from Mistress Malfoy." Tooney genty handed Hermione her cloak, and then passed her the letter. Hermione muttered a quiet 'thank-you' to the elf, and with a quick bow to Draco, Tooney once again disappeared into thin air.
Granger quickly threw the cloak around her shoulders, tying the black ribbons taunt to her chest. She approached the fireplace once again, and plucked a handful of Floo powder from the ornate box on the mantelpiece. Turning to Draco, she gave him a cordial nod.
"Have a good evening, Malfoy."
"Same to you, Granger." Draco gave her a slight bow of his head. Hermione acknowledged him, and turned back to face the fireplace.
With a quick muttering of what he assumed was her flat's address, she threw the powder into the fireplace. With a whoosh of green flames, the young witch stepped into the chimney, and disappeared into the inferno. What a witch. Draco shook his head, and muttered to himself before heading back towards his bedroom.
-00000-
Hermione arrived back at her flat with a whoosh of the Floo network. When she stepped back into her living room, she was immediately greeted by a large orange glob of fur, who gave a sassy yowl before rubbing against her left leg.
"It's good to see you too, Crooks." Hermione reached down to give the demanding ball of ginger fur some much requested attention. Crookshanks purred with satisfaction when Hermione scratched the cusp of his furry ears, and meandered away when his need for attention had been fulfilled.
Hermione rose from the crouched position she had assumed, and immediately tugged at the strings of her cloak. The fabric fell from her shoulders, and collapsed to the floor in a pile of crushed velvet. Knowing good and well she would move it later, Hermione looked down at the piece of parchment that she was still clutching gently in her hand and carefully placed it on her walnut colored coffee table.
Heading towards her kitchen, Hermione's sole intent was getting herself a strong cup of coffee. She knew that there was at least another cup left from the pot she had brewed this morning, and happily pulled a teal ceramic mug down from her rack to fill up. The coffee in the pot had long since gone cold, but with a quick focillo and a swish of her wand, there was a steaming cup of coffee in Hermione's hands.
She quickly stirred in her usual additives; a few scoops of sugar and a drop of creamer. Though, when her eyes landed on a bottle of Odgen's Finest Firewhiskey that was perched on the counter next to her sink, Hermione pondered if it would really hurt anyone if she slipped a few drops in her coffee. The bottle had been part of her birthday gift from Harry a month earlier, and the bottle was almost completely full.
"After the day I've had..." Hermione quietly mumbled to herself. Deciding that a few dribbles of the strong alcohol in her coffee would not be a sin, she quickly unscrewed the bottle and poured a dash into her mug. Recapping the bottle, Hermione gathered her still steaming mug of coffee in her hands and returned to her living room. She looked dauntingly at the letter that Narcissa had penned to her, but decided that it was either now or never.
Hermione situated herself comfortably on the cushions of her cream colored sofa, spiked coffee in hand, and reached for the letter that she had previously set on the table. Popping the wax seal, she carefully unfurled the parchment, and took a long sip of her drink before setting her eyes on the delicate cursive before her. Letting her eyes scan the page, she absorbed Narcissa's words.
Hermione,
I know that this predicament has caused a great amount of stress and turmoil for all parties involved. After today's less than adequate occurrences, I felt it necessary to write to you, and explain the importance of all of this.
I cannot lie and say that my husband, and his ancestors, have been people of goodness and equally. Neither have I or my ancestors. Both of our families come from ideals of dark magic, bigotry beliefs, and traditional values, none of which are even remotely kind. We have all done unspeakable things, especially in the face of death. Though I myself have only ever done it for one person...my son.
Draco is a complex boy, but he is the one true light of my life, and the only reason I have ever done such terrible things. He was never given a choice, Hermione. He may have made choices, yes, but they have never ever been truly his own. They have always been in the pursuit of something, or for the success of someone else. Once again, because of this curse, he once again does not have a choice. Something as special as choosing his partner in life has been taken from him, all in the name of preserving tradition.
I know that your friends and yourself have never seen eye to eye with Draco or my family. The status of your blood has always caused unrest between my family and your loved ones. But those days are gone now. We can no longer allow our prejudices keep us from finding happiness in life, or prevent us from giving those who need it second chances. I believe Draco is more than a prominent example of this.
I have seen the way you love, Hermione. You are unwavering in your affection and dedication, and undyingly loyal to those you call family. You forgive those you care for, even when they make mistakes. I could only wish that you would extend that same type of courtesy to my son.
I am sure the issue regarding the Dotis Nomine claim on your Gringotts vault can be discussed. Lucius was desperate for answers, and believed this to be the best choice. Obviously, it was not. I am currently speaking to my husband about resolving said issues. I apologize for his crass remarks today, as well as his previous actions against you.
I know that this is definitely not what you planned your future to be...an arranged marriage to a boy who fought on the other side of the battlefield. But Draco is so much more than his past, Hermione. As are we all. My son, while reserved on the outside, has a fierce heart, and loves with the strength of a thousand suns. Though very few have ever seen that side of him, as he has always locked it away. But I believe that you are the one that could save him.
So I am asking you this, from a place of a mothers love, to save my son. To give him a chance to live his life. We have all suffered, and I only wish to see him live a life unburdened by looming threats and unpredictable fates. You are his only chance. So my request is simple:
Please give him that chance.
Sincerely,
Narcissa Malfoy
Hermione read and reread the letter numerous times, until the dark liquid in her cup was only a few drops that filled the bottom. The young witch didn't want to admit it, but Narcissa's words were affecting her. The way the matriarch of the Malfoy family wrote about the love she had for her son proved that there was an unbreakable bond between them. Hermione had never known Draco Malfoy to be someone that wore his heart on his sleeve. She knew him as the obnoxious little boy who tormented her in the hallways of Hogwarts, calling her filthy, and making her feel less than a piece of dirt on his overly expensive shoe. And as the man who had chosen the darkness in the time of war. But Narcissa's point of Draco never having the chance of making choices of his own kept crossing her mind, and now she couldn't help but wonder. Wonder if maybe there was more to Draco Malfoy than the cold exterior she had come to know.
Hermione had always had the belief that people could be redeemed. Malfoy may have been an entitled git, but that didn't mean that he deserved to die. His life and his future rested solely in the palms of her hands. Her choice to marry him could save his life.
"Oh Crooks, what am I going to do?" Hermione mused, as she gently stroked the comforting fur of her feline familiar. Crookshanks had come to rest at her side while she had read Narcissa's letter, and the warmth of his body was a gentle reminder that he was there.
At that moment, Hermione really didn't know. She needed to talk to someone. Someone who could understand the rules and traditions of a Pure Blooded was a good thing the annual Weasley family Sunday brunch was only one night's sleep away. Closing the letter and placing it back on the coffee table, Hermione went to the kitchen and placed her dirty mug in the sink. She didn't bother to wash it, knowing she could stick it in the dishwasher tomorrow.
Looking around her kitchen, Hermione decided that dinner was probably a good option. Heading towards her fridge, she opened the tall appliance to see a range of take out boxes and leftovers awaiting her annual weekend reheating. Choosing a box of chinese take out that probably needed to be eaten, she quickly dumped the wax covered box onto a ceramic plate, and quickly cast another reheating charm to warm her food.
Gathering a fork and a simple glass of water, Hermione settled herself on her couch once again. Crookshanks decided to again occupy the space next to her, and she reached for the television remote that was casually placed on the coffee table. Looking at Narcissa's letter, Hermione decided that a bit of separation from the magical world would be good for her. She clicked the remote and decided on a Muggle movie, and let her mind dissolve into something other than the drama that had filled her day.
-00000-
"Draco, my darling, why don't you just stay the night here?" Narcissa questioned her only child, and Draco gave his mother a sullen look. He had enough of the manor today to last him six months, at least. All he wanted to do was Floo back to his London flat and get drunk off his ass.
"As much as I would love to spend another delightful minute in this house, Mother, I wish to go home. I need some space." Draco sighed, and turned to face his questioning Mother. Lucius had long retired to his parents suite, saying that the events of today had him tired. The elves would bring him dinner, and eventually his father would go to bed.
"She will come around, my dragon. I know that yourself and Miss Granger have some history, but I believe that she will see past that. She wouldn't send someone to their death if there was something she could do to prevent it. She's too valiant." Narcissa tried to reassure him, and Draco couldn't help but scoff at her words.
"We have more than history, Mother. I watched my aunt toture her and carve her flesh with a poisoned blade on the floor of our drawing room, and I did nothing to stop it. I taunted her with heinous nicknames and slurs, the same one that scars her skin, for years. I was more than a bully. I was a monster." The youngest Malfoy tried not to relive the searing moments of terror that had occured that fateful day. Granger deserved better than him. She deserved better than most people; she was a savior amongst mere mortals, himself included.
"You can do something now, Draco. You can give yourself a new chance at life, with Hermione at your side. That tapestry, as wicked and twisted as it may be, gave you her name for a reason. It's magic is meant to give Malfoy blood the best chance to flourish."
"Malfoy blood had caused her nothing but pain and agony for years. Mother, it's time for you to realize that not everything can be saved." Draco hated speaking in such a way to his mother, but she was dreaming in the clouds. Granger would never align herself with someone of his name, nevertheless him. There was a very strong possibility that come June 5th, his twenty first birthday would be his last.
Narcissa's eyes snapped to her son, and a look of stern instructment filled her elegant features. Draco tried to avoid her harsh stare, but his mother knew the way to make him listen. He felt like he was six years old again, and his proverbial hand had been caught in the cookie jar.
"I will not sit by and watch the only good thing that I have done for this world die. Draco Lucius Malfoy, you are the light of my life. My dragon. You may have done terrible things, but none of what has happened to you in this life has been your fault. You have had no choice, and Hermione certainly understands that. I'm sure she can relate, more than we could fathom. But I will not stand here and let you ruin the one chance that you have at living a normal life. A happy life. Now, you will listen to me. Tomorrow, you will owl Miss Granger and ask her to lunch, where you will sit down and talk to her like a proper gentleman as I raised you to be. Do you understand me?" Narcissa asked him, and Draco swallowed, nodding that he heard her words.
"Good. From there, you are going to apologize to the young witch, and you are going to offer to court her properly. You will inform her that the claim against her vault will be dismissed in proper time, and if she requires assistance with anything involving monetary needs in the meantime, we will happily provide funds for her to use. If this is going to work, and if she's going to agree to marry you, there is much work to be done. Am I clear, Draco?" Narcissa finished her speech, and Draco looked at his mother in amazement before once again nodding his head.
"That is what I thought." His mother confirmed,and walked back towards the roaring fireplace to stand next to him. Silence enveloped them, and the pair stood for a few moments, just the crackling of the fire to fill the void.
"I don't want to die." Draco finally whispered, and Narcissa's eyes immediately shot up to meet her sons. Her petite hand went to cradle Draco's pale cheek, and her thumb stroked his cheekbone with a gentle caress.
"You won't, my love. She will save you." Narcissa reassured him, and Draco closed his eyes. He allowed himself to treasure his mother's affection for a few moments, before finally deciding that it was probably best to head home.
"I'm going to go now, Mother." Draco calmly pulled away from Narcissa's embrace, and his mother gave him a loving smile.
"Good night, my darling. I love you." Narcissa said quietly, stepping away from the fireplace to allow him the room he needed to Floo.
"Good night, Mother. I love you too." Draco gave her a swift peck on the cheek, before scooping a small amount of Floo powder into his palm. Stepping into the hearth, Draco mumbled his apartment's address, and soon the green flames roared up, circling him.
With a quick glance to his mother in farewell, Draco was transported into the dark confines of his spacious living room. He removed himself from the fireplace, dusting his clothes free of any remaining soot that clung to them. A familiar voice greeted him from the couch, and Draco turned to acknowledge it's annoying owner.
"No bride to carry over the threshold tonight?" Theodore Nott quipped from his place on Draco's leather sofa, and Malfoy shook his head. A crystal tumbler of what was most certainly Odgen's Finest firewhisky was dangling from Theo's nimble fingers, a smirk across his handsome face.
"Not tonight, thank Merlin. Already gotten to the good stuff without me, did you?" Draco teased his friend. Theo nodded, taking a deep sip of his beverage.
"You were taking too bloody fucking long. I got thirsty." Theo explained, and Draco rolled his eyes before heading over to his liquor cabinet to pour himself a glass of the potent liquid.
After the war and Hogwarts, Draco and the rest of his Slytherin companions had become somewhat of a commodity. People didn't hold Pureblood families in the same regard as they used too, and that was certainly an unfamiliar feeling. For those who hadn't received the Dark Mark from Lord Voldermort, like Theo, life was somewhat bearable. He wasn't shamed from public places, or ridiculed in the streets. He could get a proper job (not that he ever would, lazy git), unlike Draco. He also didn't have a threat of death looming over his head.
Theo's father, Nott Sr., was in Azkaban for his work with the Death Eaters. Theo had moved on with his life, and happily living off his family fortune and was basically engaged to Daphne Greengrass. Blaise Zabini was living his life, now owning a Quidditch store in Diagon Alley, and shacking up with Pansy Parkinson. She had also escaped fairly unscathed after the war. Overall, Draco's Slytherin counterparts had good lives. He was the only one once again cast into impending doom. He apparently had a knack for it.
"Mother kept insisting that I spend the night at the manor. That place is too much for me." Draco explained the reason for tardiness to his best friend, all while filling a glass to the near brim with spirits. Theo chuckled, understanding Malfoy's reasoning. Malfoy Manor was not an enjoyable place for anyone nowadays, excluding maybe Narcissa.
"Your father is still enjoying his house arrest, I assume?" Theo asked, and Draco smirked as he sat down in one of the armchairs that faced his sofa.
While Potter and Granger's testimonies at both his and his mother's trials had gotten them off somewhat scotch free, Lucius Malfoy's fate had not been so lucky. He had been assigned house arrest, and the manor had been cleared of all dark artifacts and scrubbed for any remaining dark enchantments. His father would remain on house arrest for the next fifteen years, pending parole. While Draco considered Azkaban the proper place for his good for nothing father, Lucius' health was too diminished for such a place. His lungs were failing to work properly, according to the Mediwitches at St. Mungo's. Draco would be surprised if Lucius even made it five years before the medicine ceased to work anymore and his father's lungs gave out.
"His having a grand ole time, I assume. Placing Dotis Nomine claims of unsuspecting witches and terrifying house elves alike." Draco mused, taking a sip of his drink. He absentmindedly twirled his hawthorne wand between his fingers, and Theo laughed at his blunt sarcasm.
"He hasn't driven poor Narcissa barmy yet?" Theo questioned, and Draco shook his head. While Lucius had been a somewhat terrible father, he had always been a devoted and loving husband. He loved Narcissa fiercely, and they were finally having a chance to reconnect after the damages their relationship had suffered during the war.
"I think she is enjoying the time they have to themselves." Draco left his answer at that, and brought his glass to his lips, taking a sip of the searing liquid.
"How's Daphne?" He finally asked after he had swallowed, prying into Theo's love life. Theo rolled his eyes, sighing at the drama that was his loving but eccentric girlfriend.
"She's decided that the entirety of Nott Manot needs redecoration. She's tearing down wallpaper and ripping up carpet that's been there since before my grandfather was born. I just let her do whatever her heart desires, as long as she's happy and my bed isn't empty." Theo gave Draco a knowing wink at the end of his statement, and Malfoy rolled his storm colored eyes. Theo was such a wanker sometimes.
"How was it with Granger?" Theo asked his friend, and the youngest Malfoy glared at his friend. He didn't even want to think about Granger, and the drama that it entailed.
"A living hell. End of discussion." Draco shut Nott down then and there.
"Touchy, touchy...alright, did you see what Oliver Wood has been up to as keeper for Puddlemere United? They beat the living hell out of the Tutshill Tornados last week..." Theo began to drunkenly ramble on about quidditch, and Draco couldn't help but let loose a sigh.
Tomorrow, he would worry about what to do about Granger. He would write her a letter, and send it to her. He could ask her to lunch at Ludenvere's, a restaurant that Narcissa favored in Diagon Alley. There were many things that he needed to do and say to her, and they needed to be done soon. But for tonight, all he wanted to do was get drunk with his mate, talk about quidditch and nonsense, and remember nothing about it in the morning. And that was exactly what he did.