Hello my lovelies,
I am so happy you enjoyed part 2 of the engagement ball, even if it was a little...harsh. I'm sorry, I had to do it! Hermione needed to feel some emotions, to let herself breakdown. And Draco needed to see her, in raw form. So I did what I had to do. But moving on...here is chapter twenty-two! Thank you all for your kind words. I love hearing what you think, and especially how you feel! Happy Reading
Best,
E
Pansy Parkinson was well known for three things amongst her friends and family.
Number One: Her impeccable fashion sense and love of expensive garments.
Number Two: Her addiction to anything chocolate.
Number Three: Her absolutely wicked temper, especially when someone did something to hurt the ones she loved.
On most occasions, that searing red-hot temper stayed locked away in a neat little box, tucked away in Pansy's subconsciousness. It would rear its ugly head on occasion, but normally on a very mild scale.
But tonight was not one of those occasions.
Pansy had watched as Hermione had run away down the hallway from the ladies lounge, overcome with rapid emotion. The Slytherin witch had known instantly that something absolutely brutal had occurred. While Pansy and Hermione had not been formally reintroduced since Hermione had become engaged to Draco, Pansy knew that Hermione Granger was a tough witch to crack. Whatever had happened to make the future Mrs. Malfoy break down in sobs was something that needed to be dealt with.
Entering the ladies lounge with interest, Pansy was not shocked to find a gag of giggling socialites, the hobnosed Millicent Bulstrode at their helm. Pansy had never liked Millicent. Their mothers had tried to force play-dates as children, but the nasally tone of Millicent's voice drove Pansy up a wall. It sounded like broken nails on a chalkboard.
Instantly the squawking female greeted Pansy, a smug smile on her pudgy face.
"Hello, Pansy. How are you? Were you forced to attend this sham of an event as well?" Millicent questioned, her younger cronies laughing with glee. Pansy visually winced at the other woman's irritating voice.
"Quite the opposite, Millie. In fact, I came in support of one of my best friends. It is his engagement ball, after all." Pansy's tone was snarky. Millicent's previously mocking facial expression had turned a bit sour now. She had always been jealous of how close Pansy and Draco were, even when they were young children.
"Well, that's fine for you, I guess. Such a shame though, supporting such a horrid match and all." Millicent shrugged, adjusting the neckline of her hideous gown with nonchalant movement.
"Ah, well. Tit for tat, and all that nonsense. I did have a question for you though, Millie." Pansy approached the witch, the skirts of her deep violet gown moving effortlessly as she walked. Millicent looked at the other witch, a questioning glance in her eyes.
"What would that be?" Millicent sniffed. Pansy gave her a wicked smile.
"How good is your Healer at fixing broken noses?"
—00000—
Hermione sat on the worn couch of her living room, smothered in a faux fur throw and cuddling a very unimpressed Crookshanks. It was Sunday morning, around eight o'clock. The sun was streaming through the windows of Hermione's flat, illuminating the interior, which had no lights on whatsoever. The brightest witch of her age was sulking.
Hermione knew that she had caused quite the scene at the ball. Narcissa was probably mortified that her son's fiance had run off, mid-celebration. But Hermione had felt like she was literally drowning, fueled by the overwhelming emotions that Millicent Bulstrode's comments had made her feel. How someone could wish such terrible things on her, Hermione did not even know.
After shucking off her dress, leaving it unceremoniously crumpled on her living room floor, Hermione had made a beeline for her bedroom. She had changed into the comfiest pajamas that she owned, and cried into her pillow until her face was coated with the salty residue. After she had fallen into a dreamless sleep, and had awoken that morning only to Crook's yowls of hunger. She had fed the cat, and had been stationary on the couch ever since.
Why did I ever agree to this arrangement in the first place? Hermione thought to herself for the hundredth time. Hearing the slimy Slytherin's hateful words had sent her back years emotionally, back to when she was a second-year Hogwarts student. She was somehow transported into the body of a self esteem-less, miserable preteen once more.
Hermione hated it.
She hated how those people had made her feel; making her sink to the lowest of all lows. The witch had not fought a war of righteousness just to be shamed once again for her blood status. If those repulsive women had an issue with Hermione, a Muggle-born tried and true, marrying their beloved Malfoy prince, then they had another thing coming.
It was after Hermione had sat in her own misery for a few moments that a strong realization hit her like a kilo of bricks. Even with the awful things that Millicent and her group of friends had said, there was something that had been constant all of the night previous.
Draco.
Not once, through the entire night of the event, did the blonde Malfoy heir ever leave her side. Other than to give her space for her own private conversations. Even then, he had only been a stone's throw away, checking on her with concerned gazes all night. He had stood next to her, a steady hand on her mid-back, for the entirety of many conversations. Her fiance had led her away from imposing relatives when the conversations had turned a bit too personal for comfort. One thing, no matter her doubts, had been a strong constant all evening long.
Draco.
He had cared.
When she had been in such a state after her experience with Millicent, Draco had been the one to find her. Comfort her. To physically check her over and determine that she was safe from any harm. He had been there. There was also another blinding fact.
He had found her.
He had been looking for her. That's why she had run into him during her mad dash down the hall. Draco had been trying to locate her.
And she had been a total ass.
"Oh, Crooks, what have I done?" Hermione moaned as the realization of Draco's true motives really filled her system. He cared about her. Not because of the tapestry. Not because of their bond. Not because of their impending marriage.
He cared because he liked her.
Draco Malfoy liked her. She could tell by his actions, by his words. It didn't matter that they were engaged. His actions last night, from their dance to comforting her in a time of complete hysteria had shown her all she needed to see. And she had royally screwed it up.
"Oh Merlin. Oh no no no no no." Hermione quickly scrambled off the couch, throwing off the blanket that had been shrouded around her shoulders like a shield. Crookshanks gave out a very loud meow, annoyed that once again his owner was disturbing his peace.
Without much thought at all, the young witch dashed to her bedroom. Changing hastily into a cream sweater and a clean pair of denims, Hermione slipped on her chestnut colored boots and grabbed her wand from where she had thrown it on her dresser the night before. Making her way into the living room, she snatched her worn gray peacoat from the coat rack. Buttoning it up to her chin, Hermione was about to launch a handful of Floo powder into the glowing hearth when it activated itself. Someone else was incoming.
Stepping back, Hermione was shocked to see the onyx head of Pansy Parkinson stepping through her fireplace. The long legged Slytherin was still dressed in her jewel toned gown from the night before, and dark circles were etched into the creases of her face. Hermione was, in short, shocked to see the unfamiliar face standing in her living room. She and Pansy had not spoken since Draco and Hermione had become engaged, and not even at the ball last night.
Looking at her surroundings with slow disinterest, Pansy caught sight of Granger's periwinkle ensemble crumpled on the floor, and let out a chuckle. Her eyes came back to greet Hermione's, whose face was one of shock and confusion. The soon to be Mrs. Malfoy was dressed like she was getting ready to go somewhere, a handful of Floo powder ready to throw.
But Pansy needed to speak to her first.
"Alright Granger. I'm sorry to interrupt your morning, but I think it's time you and I have a little chat."
—00000—
Draco sat staring into the flames of the fire that glowed in the hearth of his childhood bedroom at Malfoy Manor. Somewhere out in the corridor, an ancient grandfather clock chimed, letting everyone of the household know the lateness of the hour.
After Hermione's sudden disappearance from the ball, Draco had to let his mother know that something had occurred, causing his fiance to flee. Narcissa, being the incredible problem solver that she was, had fabricated a story of sudden bout of food poisoning to explain the disappearance of one half of the happy couple. While some people, mainly Harry and Ginny, were skeptical of such an excuse for Hermione's departure, All the other deaths took this as a perfectly reasonable explanation. Draco had spent the next hour and half of the event fielding off questions and concerns for the wellbeing of his fiance. All the while, his brain was swimming with doubt and concern for why Hermione had abruptly left, as well as the state she had left in.
Pansy, by Merlin, had been the one to inform him of the night's happenings. She explained how she had seen that Hermione had overheard Millicent's repulsive comments, wishing for the Gryffindor's death at Bellatrix's hands. Draco had nearly retched at the thought of Hermione reliving such things. It had explained why she'd asked him such startling questions after encountering one another in the hall, after Draco had noticed her disappearance from the ballroom.
He had gone searching for her, wanting to make sure that she hadn't gotten lost amongst the Manor's many halls. What he had really found had been a shock to his system in every sense of the word. Hermione, one of the bravest witches he'd ever met, crumpled to the ground sobbing after hearing words that would shake anyone to their core.
Pansy had taken care of the situation. Be it in a truly unbecoming fashion, but that was neither here nor there. In Parkinson's own words, "I don't think that it's going to be an easy fix." She was referencing the extensive amount of damage that her fist had done to Millicent Bulstrode's nose. Brutal, to say the least.
When Draco had asked her why she had defended Hermione's honor, Pansy had only said a simple statement.
"Granger is marrying you. She's one of us now, Draco. You're family, and I take care of my family." With that answer, Draco had dropped the subject. Pansy had told him that she would go speak to Hermione, to try and comfort the ailing witch in the morning. Draco was hesitant to allow it, but Pansy finally won him over with the assurance that she would be gentle with the witch. The young Malfoy heir was still a bit nervous about what was to come from the women's chat.
Theo and Daphne had been reluctant to leave, worried for their friend and what he had experienced. Draco had encouraged them to leave, stating that he was fine, and handling the situation on his own. Daphne had given him a gentle peck to the check as a farewell, and Theo had slapped him on the back as a sign that he was there for him, in his own Theo-like way.
So here he sat, quietly contemplating what to do next. Hermione had seemed so overwhelmed, so petrified. And if Draco was being honest with himself, he hated seeing her in such a state. Broken, like a china doll that had fallen from its shelf. The strong and confident facade that Hermione often wore was cracked, showing the turmoil that was over taking her.
Draco had tried to come for her, but in the end, the emotions had gotten the best of her. In his hands, he still held the glove that had come loose in his grasp.
It was at that moment that Draco realized something about himself.
He cared for Hermione.
Not in a friend-like manner, or just common concern. But in a raw, emotionally crushing way that he had never known before. It was through these experiences; their lunches, their engagement portrait, and their dance tonight, that Draco discovered why the situation was affecting him in such a way.
He liked Hermione Granger.
With an ailing sigh, he placed his head in his hands, overcome with the feeling of defeat.
That was how Narcissa found him, when she came to check on her only child after his more than eventful night. The matriarch of the Malfoy family had changed out of her formal evening wear, and into a beautifully cut velvet dressing-gown colored a stunning midnight blue.
"Oh, my dragon. I know that all seems lost, but you need to have faith. Hermione cares for you, and she will return. She just needs time." Narcissa placed a calming hand on her son's shoulder. Draco, looking up at his mother, gave her a harrowed expression.
"She heard someone say that they wished that Bellatrix had let her bleed out on our drawing room floor. At our engagement ball, nonetheless, with the people we know that were supposed to be celebrating our union. I don't know how she can recover from that, mother. And I wouldn't blame her if she couldn't." Draco argued. Narcissa hummed, sweeping back the skirt of her robes to kneel before her ailing child.
"She will need time to heal. But she is bound to you, as you are bound to her. I've seen the way you look at her. I know you care for her. You must stay strong, Draco. This woman is your redemption. Do not lose yourself in the thought of losing her." Narcissa placed a chaste kiss on her son's forehead as she rose, leaving Draco in his solace.
As much as it often pained him to admit it, his mother was right. He and Hermione were bound, not just by the threads of a magical tapestry, but by an ethereal bond that no one could quite understand. He was hers as much as she was his. Not to mention, they were engaged to be wed, tied by a betrothal contract that could not be broken.
Draco knew at that moment that it was up to him to fight for what he wanted.
To live his life, to be happy, and to make choices of his own. Hermione Granger was the key to that dream, and it was up to Draco to prove to her that she was worth every battle.
—00000—
"You punched her in the nose?!" Hermione nearly dropped the cup of tea she was holding.
Pansy Parkinson was explaining how she had settled the situation of Millicent Bulstrode and her cronies. The women were seated in Hermione's living room, casually conversing over two cups of tea that Hermione had hastily prepared after Pansy's unexpected arrival. To be having such a conversation with the woman sitting across from her in her living room was more than just a shock; it was world-tilting.
But here they were.
"Yes, and oh how beautifully it cracked. It's going to take a Healer a good amount of time to fix that bloody mess." Pansy chuckled darkly. Hermione didn't know whether or not to be thankful for the witch's actions, or to be utterly horrified by what she'd done. Either way, Pansy Parkinson had defended her. But why, she didn't know. So she gathered all her Gryffindor courage and did what she needed to do. She asked.
"Why?"
"Why what?" Pansy answered, swishing around the tea in her porcelain cup. Hermione asked again.
"Why did you punch Millicent for me?"
"Because Granger, you're family. You're marrying Draco, which means you're one of us now. I protect my family. Especially when they're threatened." Pansy explained her reasoning, before casually taking a sip of her tea.
"You Slytherins really take this family thing seriously, don't you?" Hermione questioned, recalling how Theodore had said something similar when they had been out drinking that Thursday night.
"You have to remember Granger, we came from shitty families. So we built our own. We may not be blood, but we are family through and through. We protect one another, take care of one another, and we do what we have to do to make sure each other is safe. By marrying Draco Malfoy, you become a part of that family. I don't care if you're Gryffindor's Princess. Just as long as you make Draco happy, you're good with me." Pansy's answer was as simple as that, and Hermione saw no reason to question it further.
"Are you really okay with me marrying Draco?" Hermione asked, her voice quivering a bit with uncertainty.
"You make him 're giving him a new chance at life. I'm grateful for that. Besides, I don't know of anyone else pigheaded enough to be with him." Pansy teased, and Hermione gave her a peeved look.
"I am not pigheaded!" She defended herself, and Pansy arched a perfectly shaped brow before muttering "Mmhm." into her teacup.
"But if you're not into Draco, who are you into? Draco said that Blaise and you are just platonic roommates." Hermione didn't want to pry, but she was indeed curious about the women sitting across from her.
"I'm a floater. I go between men, finding what I like and don't like. Take last night for instance. I chatted with the most wonderful man. He was dressed in a beautifully tailored navy blue suit, and talked a lot about plants. Either way, he was very handsome and very charming." Pansy drawled, recounting her conversation last night with the mysterious man she had not thought to catch that name off.
At the mention of plants, Hermione nearly spit out her sip of tea. She had to stifle a laugh before revealing to Pansy who her conversation partner had been.
"You mean Neville Longbottom?" Hermione smiled, and Pansy gave her an astonished look.
"That was not Neville Longbottom. I know Neville Longbottom, and that man was certainly not him." Pansy shook her head.
"It most certainly was." Hermione informed her companion, and Pansy's eyes went huge.
"But…how? At school he was so… unattractive." Pansy thought back to her school days, recounting the pudgy young Gryffindor boy who was always chasing after his toad. The man she had spoken to last night was enchanting. Well spoken. A gentleman. There was no way that it was Neville Longbottom. But Hermione nodded her head, and Pansy nearly choked on her tongue.
"Time did him good." Hermione mused, and Pansy decided then to change the subject. There were more important matters to discuss anyway. The main one being getting Hermione back to Draco, so that they could work out their problems.
"You do realize that Draco was terribly worried when you left, right?" Pansy asked, and Hermione was quiet for a few moments. Slowly, the curly-haired witch nodded her head.
"He cares for me, doesn't he." Hermione asked guiltily, and Pansy tried not to chuckle, disguising the action as a cough. The raven haired heiress finally nodded, confirming Hermione's suspicions.
"He does. He was wrought with guilt. He feels terrible that those women said such terrible things to you. He wants to know that you're okay."
"I was actually on my way to apologize to him when you came. I realized something. Not once, the entirety of last night, did he allow one person to be mean or cruel to me. He was supportive, almost romantic." Hermione admitted her thoughts with flushed cheeks, and Pansy smiled.
"Well then, you better get going." Pansy motioned for Hermione to get a move on, placing her nearly empty teacup on the coffee table in front of her. Stationing Hermione in front of the still warm hearth, Pansy gave her a reassuring smile.
"Don't screw this up, Granger. You got this." Pansy smiled an encouraging smile.
"Hey Parksion?" Hermione said, before she scooped her hand into the box of green dust on her mantel.
"Yeah Granger?" Pansy responded.
"Thank you." Hermione acknowledged.
"You're welcome. Now, go get your man."