IV
—
Narcissa stared at the girl sleeping in her son's bed. She looked statuesque, prompting the older witch to assume Draco had given her a potion to help her rest. It only made sense. And it explained why she had mysteriously disappeared after the ordeal of the previous morning.
Her eyes wandered to the ring adorning the girl's left hand, her jaw tightening. She and Pansy had fawned over the diamond many times throughout the years, fantasizing numerous ways to set the jewel. Draco had done a lovely job, but the witch he'd given it to… Narcissa had a difficult time even calling her a witch. And by Merlin, did that frustrate her. There was one way she could determine how magical the girl truly was, but the thought nearly made her gag.
Draco appeared in the middle of the room, startling at the sight of his mother. She stared him down as she spoke.
"And where did you sleep last night?"
The boy's eyes flicked to Hermione, who still lay like a statue. He sighed.
"In one of the guest rooms. What have you come here for, mother?"
Narcissa scoffed. "I have come here because it was the last place in the manor to search for your intended, after she vanished yesterday morning."
"What do you want with her? I'm certain it's not to bond over tea and cakes," Draco said, crossing his arms. His mother mimicked him, her crystalline eyes boring into his.
"If you recall, we have a wedding to plan. Merlin knows the help she'll need getting that right."
"Give her a chance, mum; I think she'll surprise you."
The room was silent as the two of them held each other's gaze, neither one willing to break.
Yixey suddenly popped into the bedroom, bowing before her masters.
"Mistress Malfoy, master Malfoy be wishing to speak with you," the house elf stated. Narcissa sighed exasperatedly and returned her glare to her son.
"When she wakes up, you bring her straight to me. Do you understand, Draco?"
The boy waved his hand dismissively, but released the breath he'd been holding when his mother finally Disapparated.
Draco glanced at Hermione again, then grabbed a fresh set of clothes and stepped into the bathroom to shower and change.
There were voices. At first it was just jumbled noise, but then she began to understand what they were saying. She heard "bring her straight to me," which sent a small jolt of alarm through her, but she felt detached from her body. She couldn't make her limbs move.
A small "pop" sounded, and then it was silent for a moment. Hermione could hear footsteps and then a door close, and knew she must be alone. She tried moving again.
She could open her eyes, but it was as if the rest of her body was pumped with lead. Trying to make her legs work felt like wading through tar. Still, the more she seemed to try, the easier it became. After several minutes, she was able to sit up.
She looked around the room, attempting to recall where she was and how she'd gotten there. She was in Draco's room, she remembered; he'd Apparated them there after…
The memory caused her chest to constrict painfully. She knew Ron had been wishing for death for ages, and that at least by her doing it, she had ensured it was quick. Nevertheless, the fact that she'd killed someone she'd once loved carved at her soul like a smoldering blade.
Hermione stood and walked over to one of the windows, trying to rein in her breathing. Remembering the little vial of Sunrise Essence, she fished it out of her dress pocket and uncapped it, downing the bottle and taking a few deep breaths as she waited for it to work.
She had just begun to feel the liquid's effects when Draco emerged from a side door, his eyebrows raising at the sight of her.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, immediately regretting the words. Hermione chuckled without humour.
"You gave me Dreamless Sleep potion. Of course I did. And evidently for far longer than I should have, if that clock is correct," she stated, turning from the window to face him. "What does your mother need me so urgently for?"
Draco sighed. "She wants to start planning the wedding."
There was silence for a few moments, as Hermione's gaze shifted to her feet. "How soon will we be married?" She asked softly.
"Six months. You may be muggle-born, but the Dark Lord wants to treat this as if it were a traditional Pureblood wedding, which means no less than 2 gifting galas, a thank you gala, a ball to welcome the far-traveling guests, a reception the night prior to the ceremony, and then the ceremony itself. There's also house trimming to be done."
The girl nodded, knowing the work that lay ahead of her. In Pureblood society, a young witch's wedding was planned primarily by the bride, and was often judged as a display of her hosting abilities. She would need to throw a spectacular party.
"The Descendant Manor is what you're referring to when you speak of house trimming, I presume. May I ask where it is?" She questioned. He looked at her with surprise written across his features.
"You know about Descendant Manors?"
"As I've told you, I studied Pureblood history and customs. All the old bloodlines constructed Descendant Manors for their heirs to assume until the patriarch died. With your family being one of the wealthiest and most highly regarded in the magical society of the United Kingdom, it would be nearly a crime against Pureblood tradition if you didn't have at least one."
He nodded, impressed yet again by her knowledge. "Ours is on Cardigan Bay. We'll be going there soon so you can get an idea of what you'd like for the place."
There was another quiet pause, as Draco took a cautious step towards her. She raised her head and clasped her fingers at her waist, straightening her spine.
"You may meet me outside my room at eleven; from there you will escort me to your mother. Is this clear and acceptable?"
The boy blinked for a moment, slightly thrown by her authoritative tone, but he quickly composed himself and ducked his head. "It is."
Hermione then gave her own nod, before quietly snapping her fingers and Disapparating.
Apparating to her room had been a tad risky, but she wasn't about to traipse across the entire manor in the same dress she'd had on the day before. It was bad enough Narcissa Malfoy had caught her in such a terribly inappropriate situation; she couldn't allow anything else to sully her reputation.
Hermione rolled her shoulders, still feeling the inner warmth from the essence. It had calmed the twisting in her gut and pain in her chest, enough for her to sit down, close her eyes, and begin muttering a complicated incantation.
She focused on the memory of Ron's last moments, his hopeless plea for the end, the relief on his face when she'd raised her wand… the green flash and the dull thud…
Even with the essence flowing through her, it was difficult to maintain the memories and incantation without being reduced to sobs. Just as she felt she was about to break, the images began to blur, giving her the strength to push on just a little more, until she could no longer clearly see her thoughts.
Opening her eyes, Hermione tested her work, deliberately trying to recall the painful memories. It was like trying to remember a dream. She knew what had happened, and the knowledge still made her heart ache, but the images were distorted and impossible to bring into focus.
Glancing over at the clock, the girl swore. The memory fracture had taken far longer than she'd thought it would, giving her only an hour until eleven. Hurrying into the bathroom, she started the taps on the shower, the internal glow from the Sunrise Essence disappearing as she stepped under the water.
Draco knocked on her door at precisely eleven o'two, wincing slightly at the tingle that shot up his arm. She'd evidently put up some powerful wards.
Hermione emerged a few seconds later, looking perfectly regal. She extended her hand, and the boy gave a short bow as he lightly kissed it, then offered her his arm as they started through the manor.
"My mum is likely going to be… distant, for a while, even if you're the epitome of Pureblood traditions. But she'll still be polite," Draco stated, a hint of embarrassment in his tone. The girl on his arm gave a small shrug.
"I didn't expect to be liked when I came here. To be quite honest, I expected to be killed on the spot."
Her escort abruptly halted, jerking her to a stop as well. He looked at her with confusion in his eyes.
"Why did you agree, then, if you thought you would be killed?"
Hermione sighed, remembering the months she'd spent in hiding, and met his questioning gaze with one of sadness.
"Draco, I hope you never have to experience what it's like to run. To constantly be looking over your shoulder, never sure if you're far enough ahead to sleep for the night; and always, always afraid. When I got the Dark Lord's letter, I knew I could either accept and take the chance that maybe, for whatever reason, he wouldn't kill me, or I could try to outrun Death Eaters that were likely already waiting for me to bolt. And I was so tired of running." Her expression then morphed into a small, bitter smirk. "I'm sure I can handle your mother and whoever else hisses when I walk into the room."
Draco stared at her strangely for a moment, then they resumed their pace, strolling through the corridors until they came to one of the drawing rooms on the 2nd floor. The boy knocked on the door, his mother answering with a raised eyebrow. Her face fell from curious to blank when she saw who was with her son, and when she spoke, her tone was clipped.
"Good morning, miss Granger. Draco, my love, thank you for bringing her to me. We should be through with our discussions by one o'clock; you may retrieve her then. Now, I suggest you see your father, he was looking to speak with you. You may leave us."
Hermione removed her arm from Draco's and gave Narcissa a polite curtsy, then turned to place a chaste kiss on her intended's cheek before closing the door, noting the look of confusion on his face as he made to leave.
In the drawing room, the two witches stared at each other, both with stiff postures and hands clasped formally at the waist. The elder woman motioned for the younger to sit, snapping her fingers twice and ordering the house elf that appeared to bring them tea. She then went to gaze out one of the large windows as she spoke.
"Draco tells me to give you a chance; and that, miss Granger, is precisely what you will get. One chance. I will never understand why he picked you, of all the witches he could have chosen, but he has." Narcissa turned back to Hermione, who was the image of poise, and narrowed her eyes. "Tell me, do you know anything of the Aeterna Colligationis?"
Hermione nodded. Draco's vague description of the ceremony from the other day now made a bit more sense, although like him, she really didn't know the finer details of it. Mrs. Malfoy looked skeptical.
"Oh? And what do you know of it? I hardly think it's something you were taught at Hogwarts."
Clearing her throat, Hermione said "It's older magic, and is considered somewhat dark by highly conservative witches and wizards, though calling it such is a bit of a stretch, in my view. The ritual binds two souls for the duration of their lives, and the bond is unbreakable by any magic known. In a sense, it is as if the two truly become a single entity, incapable of inflicting harm upon each other in the same way one would not intentionally wound oneself. It also prevents those bound by it from being intimate with anyone else ever again."
There was a heavy pause, as Narcissa waited for the young witch to continue. Hermione had nothing further to add, however, so the elder woman sighed and took a sip of tea before beginning to elaborate.
"You've read some silly version of it. You will be bound to him, miss Granger, but not the other way around. You will not be able to harm him; you will not be intimate with anyone else, but he may be, if he so wishes; your life will be connected to his, but his will not be to yours. Do you understand what I'm saying, child?"
She did. Anger flared through her veins for an instant, but it quickly burned out. She hadn't really thought she'd be treated as an equal, although Draco had made it seem as if she might be. Perhaps he didn't fully understand the bond, either.
The girl remained silent, and she almost thought she saw a look of smugness on Narcissa's face for the most fleeting of moments, but she couldn't be sure. The woman then set her cup and saucer down and summoned a quill, parchment following just behind it.
"So, miss Granger," she began, a strange, almost eager smirk on her face. "This wedding of yours… where shall we begin?"
AN: Remember when I said this would only be a few parts? Yeah, scratch that. Not that it's gonna be a huge thing, but definitely longer than I anticipated. I do hope you stick around! And I hope each and every one of you remain healthy! Blessings!
( And don't forget to review!;) )