II
—
She awoke feeling strangely serene and well-rested. The anxiety that had haunted her for the last several months was not quite gone, but somehow was greatly lessened. Hermione sat up, grabbing her wand from the bedside table and muttering "Lumos Maxima." It was still pitch black out, which meant it was quite early, but the ball of light flew up to the chandelier above her and illuminated every corner of the room.
Crawling out of the luxurious bed, she opened the closet and looked over the dresses, surprised to find them tasteful, not the ostentatious nightmares she'd expected them to be. Though, as suspected, the color selection was bleak. Selecting a garment of silver silk, she pulled off the nightgown she wore and stepped into the robes, sighing as the rich material brushed her skin.
She'd just about finished doing her hair when a house elf appeared, carrying a tray laden with breakfast foods. There was also a small note tucked carefully away from the various delicacies, which Hermione fixated on immediately.
"Set that down on the table there, then you may leave," she commanded, her eyes lingering on the note.
"Yes, Miss Granger. If you be needin' something, just call for Ditzy and I be comin' right away!"
The elf then did as told and popped away. Standing, the girl snatched the small card off the tray, her name scrolled across the front in a flowing script.
Hermione,
I hope you slept well. I would greatly enjoy it if you accompanied me on a walk through the gardens this morning. If you would like to join me, meet me on the east terrace at 7:30; the Sunrise Snapdragon's will just be starting to open.
It was written in Draco's elegant hand, his signature gracing the bottom of the note. Glancing at the clock in the corner of the room, she realized she had an hour to kill before meeting him, so she wandered over to the large bookcase covering one of the walls. After selecting a volume entitled "Practical Potioneering," she grabbed a bowl of strawberries off the breakfast tray, then settled into the window seat.
Hermione had ordered Ditzy to take her to the east terrace, as she wasn't exactly sure she could find it on her own, and she didn't want to run into any other residents of the Manor. The sky was just beginning to lighten when she arrived on the marble tiles, Corinthian pillars rising around her.
"Early, as always," came a voice from behind one of the columns. Draco emerged from the shadows, and Hermione curtsied in the appropriate fashion for an engaged young woman. He bowed, then offered her his arm, the girl dipping her head as she took it.
He began to lead her through the gardens, and they walked silently for a time, before Draco paused next to a little fish pond, silver koi swimming just below the surface.
He summoned a little jar of pellets, opening it and holding it out to her. She stared at it a moment before grabbing a few of the beads and tossing them to the fish. The food didn't have a chance to hit the water before the koi leapt into the air and caught it; but instead of falling back into the water, the little animals fluttered around in the air, their fins beating like the wings of an insect. One flew up to Hermione and circled her head, taking her breath away, before diving back into the pool.
"Butterfly koi…" she breathed, watching the fish swim and leap now that they'd had breakfast. Draco just gazed at her awed expression for a moment, before she turned her attention back to him and they continued through the garden.
"Does anyone else know I'm here?" she questioned softly.
"Yes, but my mother and father are the only ones that know who you are. The rest of the Death Eaters know I've chosen a wife, and they know you're not from a Pureblood line, but that's all."
Hermione nodded. "The others of our age, have they chosen as well?"
At this, Draco gave her an odd look, as if he were debating with himself on whether or not to disclose something. She raised an eyebrow, suspicious, and he sighed.
"No, they'll all be assigned their matches. I was allowed a choice because I'm… somewhat of the Dark Lord's heir."
This made the girl halt in shock, as he'd thought it might.
"He made you his heir? Why?"
"It's more of a ceremonial position; he doesn't need an heir, being the Lord of Death, but he was pleased with my work at Hogwarts and in the war, so I was awarded the title."
Hermione's countenance darkened at his words, remembering his role in the demise of the headmaster, and the resulting war that culminated in the death of her closest friends. She felt the familiar pain of loss in her chest, and her eyes welled, but she refused to let the tears fall. To her surprise, Draco squeezed her hand in consolation.
"You have every right to despise me for what I've done. And I won't pretend to try and earn your forgiveness, because I know I can't. But I meant what I said last night, Hermione. I will keep you safe. And I'll do my best to make you as happy as possible."
Despite her best efforts, Harry's face flashed in her mind, and she couldn't help the tear that slipped down her cheek. Her escort swept in front of her, brushing away the bead of liquid with the pad of his thumb. His hand lingered for a moment, their gazes locked. Suddenly a silky voice chimed from further up the path.
"Draco, do tell me you're not upsetting your betrothed already."
Narcissa Malfoy appeared, her ebony robes swaying around her and making her look ethereal in the early morning light. Her son immediately straightened and turned, returning to Hermione's side and giving his mother a short bow, the girl at his side following suit. Narcissa's steel-blue eyes traced Hermione's movements piercingly.
"Mother, may I present Hermione Granger," Draco announced. His mother's stare flicked to him, her expression morphing from cautious study to one of patience.
"She's beautiful, to be sure. Though she must be something truly unique, if our lord has approved of her despite her birth."
Hermione projected an air of confidence that she most certainly did not feel, as her future mother-in-law went back to studying her. Draco opened his mouth to speak, but the woman before him raised her hand, wordlessly commanding him to be silent.
"Tell me about yourself, dear one," Narcissa sang. Her posture and tone were relaxed, but Hermione could see the hardness in her eyes; she was none too pleased that her son would be bound to a Muggle-Born. The girl raised her chin slightly.
"What is it that you wish to know, Mrs. Malfoy?"
"Well. How about your hobbies? An intelligent girl like yourself must utilize intelligent ways to pass the time."
She was fishing, Hermione knew. Looking for more ways in which her son's betrothed fell short, perhaps to try and persuade him to choose a different bride.
"I often read. If circumstances permit, I practice my ballet. And I play the piano, as well," she said casually. It wasn't a lie, but she hadn't danced or played since before the war. Nevertheless, Narcissa's expression was politely interested.
"Ballet? Which method, if I may ask?"
"Cecchetti. I passed my Grade Six examination a month before the war, with Highly Commended marks."
This garnered an impressed nod from the older woman, who then turned to her son. "And in regards to piano; Draco, love, when was the last time you played?"
The boy thought for a moment. "It's been some time. We've been busy."
"That is true, but things have settled down a bit now. Perhaps you could show Miss Granger the grand piano in the ballroom, once you've finished your stroll."
He nodded, then Narcissa moved closer and kissed her son on the cheek, turning to Hermione and doing the same. The younger witch responded in the correct manner, noting the surprise in the woman's eyes as she did so and feeling ever-so-slightly smug as she watched her disappear behind the hedges.
"She despises me," Hermione stated as they resumed their ambling pace. Draco sighed.
"She's always been just as stubborn as my father when it comes to blood purity; she's just more graceful about how she displays it. Though I think that exchange went rather well."
They made their way through the expansive garden, coming up to a trellis woven with unusual black flowers.
"The snapdragons still feel the sunrise, even with the clouds. Watch," the boy murmured.
As they stared, the blooms suddenly began to change colors, morphing from black, to violet, to orange, to white. When the last one had completed its transformation, they began to glow, the light culminating in a sudden burst of sparks that fell slowly around them. Draco produced a small beaker and caught several of the sparks, handing Hermione the vial when he'd closed it again. The girl looked at its contents, raising her eyebrows at the shimmering lavender liquid inside.
"What is it?" she questioned.
"Sunrise essence. It's calming."
She handed it out to him, but he shook his head. "You keep it."
They continued to make their way through the flowers, quiet, until Hermione spoke up.
"If it isn't too much trouble, I would like to see the ballroom."
"Of course. It's-"
Suddenly thunder rolled, the clouds overhead darkening ominously. Draco's expression quickly went from peaceful to uneasy, and he tightened his grip on the girl at his side.
"Come on, something's happened," he murmured, guiding her back into the manor. They began making their way through the halls, and Hermione tried not to squirm.
"Is it wise of you to bring me along?"
He paused for a moment, unlinking their arms and catching her hand. He touched the ring that adorned her finger.
"Forgive me for neglecting to tell you this last night; as long as you're wearing this, within the borders of my family's property, no ill intentions can touch you, magical or otherwise."
"Save for the Dark Lord's, you mean?"
The boy was silent for a moment, then lightly caressed her cheek, his gaze almost confident. "He won't hurt you, Hermione."
He then kissed her knuckles, the young witch sighing a little at the contact.
"You chose her?!" A voice shrieked from up the way. Startled, Hermione withdrew her hand and turned. Draco rolled his eyes as Pansy Parkinson glared daggers at the witch beside him. Her deadly gaze slid to him after a moment.
"I accepted the fact that I wouldn't be your wife after the Dark Lord's decree. Aggravated though I was, I accepted it. But for you to turn around and choose that disgusting muggle spawn-"
"You will not address me in such a manner, Miss Parkinson," Hermione said in a silky voice, deliberately tucking her hair back with her left hand. She assumed the girl would know the protections provided by the jewels she wore, if she had been in marriage talks with the Malfoys priorly. Pansy's eyes flashed, but she said nothing.
"Draco, I believe we were headed somewhere important," Hermione sang, and the boy beside her offered her his arm. They continued down the hall, Draco giving her an impressed smirk. She returned it.
The lightened mood didn't last, however, as they neared the east sitting room. Both of them could feel the tension in the air.
A few Death Eaters had gathered in the room, whispering back and forth to each other and surmising what may have upset the Dark Lord. Draco led Hermione to the outskirts of the room, several pairs of eyes following them as the girl sat at the window seat. Her betrothed stood behind her and placed his hands on her left shoulder, signaling to the others that she had his protection, and she once again used her left hand to tuck her hair behind her ear.
More people assembled in the sitting room, a few house elves popping in and out with glasses of various drinks. Ditzy appeared in front of the couple, handing Draco a glass of firewhiskey before turning to Hermione.
"What does Miss Granger drink?" the elf asked quietly. The girl quickly went over the meanings of different drinks in her head, trying to decide what would be most appropriate.
"Elderberry wine, if you'd be so kind."
Ditzy practically beamed as she popped away. She returned moments later and handed Hermione a glass filled with garnet liquid. Seconds after, the rest of the house elves disappeared, and the Dark Lord was suddenly leaning against the mantle as if he'd been there for some time already. The girl sipped her wine, attempting to relax and follow the occupants of the room in showing proper respect.
The Dark Lord turned to his followers, his expression dark.
"Who did I put in charge of dealing with the Glasgow issue last night?"
Two men that Hermione didn't recognize stepped forward and bowed low, not speaking. Voldemort studied them for several moments.
"You'll recall I said 'I want the whole group eradicated,'" the man stated, and judging by the way the two Death Eaters cringed at his words, they were recalling. Forcibly.
"Why, then, did I receive a notice this morning saying one of the dissenters had escaped?"
The men remained silent, waiting for consent to say their piece. The Dark Lord nodded to one of them, a gangly fellow that somehow resembled a spider. His voice was also oddly reminiscent of the creature.
"It is our humble mistake, my lord. We were thorough in our destruction, but could not check the exact numbers, what with the fire."
The other man, older and more regal in appearance, only gave a nod of corroboration, and Hermione noticed the x-shaped scar on his throat; the tell-tale mark of the Indicensia Curse. The man could not speak.
Voldemort seemed to take the older man's nod as validation, and gave a long sigh as he stepped back.
"You are both lucky that the escapee was captured, especially since he was one of Dumbledore's beloved Order of the Phoenix."
Hermione felt her veins turn to ice, as the Dark Lord summoned a house elf. "Bring the prisoner here," he ordered, and the elf snapped away.
The girl took a large sip of wine, trying to keep her hands from shaking. Though she absolutely despised the new Order, she was in no mood for screaming and torture.
Draco sensed her dread and subtly began tracing a sigil on her back, trying to help calm her. But the house elf reappeared, and at the sight of the prisoner with them, he knew nothing he could do would be of much use.
Voldemort stared down at the captive with disdain. "Witches and wizards, I present to you Ronald Weasley."
The oxygen left her lungs, as Hermione stared at the ruddy boy in the center of the room. Amidst whispers and hisses, he raised his head, his pale blue eyes piercing straight through her.
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