V
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Draco stared at the door in front of him, willing his arm to raise and rap against it. Somehow, it was exceedingly difficult.
His father had indeed wished to speak with him; to explain the full details of the bond he would soon initiate with Hermione. The bond he had vastly misunderstood.
The Aeterna Colligationis had apparently been used in the Dark Ages as a way for magical folk to control their spouses. It created a magical cord from one person to another that, when "pulled," would exert a control very similar to the Imperius Curse. Usually the bond consisted of a Lord and Thrall, with the Lord having the power to invoke the bond while the Thrall did whatever was ordered of them. When Draco had asked if there was a way to equalize the power between the two, his father had scoffed and offered nothing, but hadn't outright said "no." It gave the boy a faint hope that perhaps Hermione wouldn't immediately murder him when she found out.
Finally summoning the willpower, Draco knocked on the drawing room door, his mother answering it moments later and stepping back to allow him in. Hermione stood to greet her betrothed, giving him a short curtsy before turning to Narcissa.
"Shall we continue with this meeting arrangement until the preparations are completed, mother?"
Draco's eyes widened at the young witch's choice of verbiage, and he could see a subtle bitterness in the matron's expression, but she gave a small smile anyways.
"Yes, dear, I believe that will be most fruitful. I will see you both at dinner."
After respectfully pecking the elder woman on the cheeks, the two youths exited the room, Hermione releasing a breath only after they'd walked several steps from the door.
"I believe you were going to show me the ballroom, yesterday. If you've no other assignments, I would still like to see it, and we may discuss a few things on the way there."
Nodding, Draco led them towards a flight of stairs, the portraits on the wall gasping and whispering amongst themselves when they saw the girl on his arm. She ignored them and began speaking.
"Your mother has set up an appointment with several of the newspapers, they'll be arriving tomorrow at three for a public announcement of the engagement. They will be allowed a few minutes for questions, we will declare when the invitations for the Gifting Galas will be sent out, then the Dark Lord will speak to them." She waited until they were well beyond the portraits to continue, her voice lower. "We are to appear as though we adore each other, without being improper. Our Lord wants our marriage to inspire the masses —from Pureblood to Muggle-Born— to submit to him. When they see our union, it will promote the prospect that perhaps Muggle-Borns are not so filthy, if, like I, they renounce their Muggle heritage and learn the noble ways of the ancient magical folk."
Draco examined her features as she spoke, noting that, though he knew she didn't subscribe to the philosophy she'd just stated, her voice betrayed almost the opposite, carrying a disdainful edge to the word "muggle" and a reverent grace when she talked of "the ancient magical folk." She sounded just like the Pureblood ladies he'd grown up around.
Clearing his throat, Draco said, "it sounds like you and my mother accomplished quite a bit in a short span of time."
"Somewhat. We set the dates for everything, of course, as that must be done first. Then the Dark Lord graced us with his presence, and after he approved of the dates, he made a few suggestions, explained what was expected of you and I in regards to the press, then took leave of us. Your mother and I seem to have similar tastes when it comes to event planning, so I was able to get much of the first Gifting Gala outlined and accepted with hardly any negative discourse from her."
"That's rather impressive. My mother usually likes to do things her way or not all."
Hermione chuckled. "In this case, she doesn't have much of a choice. She can't plan my wedding, it isn't how it's done. Besides, people will want to see exactly what kind of party a Muggle-born can throw. Best not to have any help."
There. There was a bit of fire in her tone with that statement, sounding much more like the Hermione he… well, technically he was only just now getting to know her, but it wasn't as though they hadn't gone to school together for six years. He'd been on the receiving end of her ire enough to know her voice.
"What are the dates you've chosen?"
"Our first Gifting Gala will be on May sixteenth, the invitations for which will be sent out next sunday. The second gala will be on July eighteenth. The Gratitude Gala will be held on August twenty-ninth, the Welcoming Ball on the twentieth of September, and... since the ritual requires a full moon, we will be married on October fifth."
The two of them were silent as they continued down the corridors. Having the dates set made everything seem so much more… real. Solid. Inescapable.
They came upon a grand and beautiful hallway with ornately carved doors at the end of it. Draco drew his wand, whispering a spell and then waving the instrument in front of the entry. It rippled like water, and Hermione raised her eyebrows.
"It's warded?"
The boy nodded. "They're foundational defense wards, cast when the house was built and anchored to the cornerstone. If the manor were ever attacked, my family could retreat to the ballroom and survive, even if the rest of the house was completely destroyed. The wards also forestall any unfriendly persons from entering, as you need the Blessing of a Malfoy to get past them."
He moved to stand before her, extending his hand. "Your wand arm, if you please."
Hermione raised her right arm, and he took it, pressing her hand between his palms as he closed his eyes and mouthed an incantation. When he'd finished, he glanced up briefly, a strange expression on his face. Then he bent to place a feather-light kiss on her outstretched fingers.
The girl felt the Blessing sweep through her, as though a breeze had blown through her veins. Draco smirked at the surprised look she wore, then offered her his arm again, flicking his wand to swing the doors inward.
Hermione tried to keep her features from betraying her awe, but it was a losing battle. The Malfoy ballroom was an expansive space of architectural grandeur that far surpassed the Great Hall at Hogwarts. It took one's breath away, from the intricate details on the pillars that rose around the room, to the shimmering Portoro marble beneath their feet.
Glimpsing the concert grand in the orchestra balcony, the corners of Hermione's mouth tugged upwards in an almost-smile. It had been nearly a year since she'd heard real music.
"I do believe your mother suggested you practice," she hinted, nodding towards the instrument. Shrugging, he Apparated them up to the mezzanine, releasing her arm to sit at the piano.
"Anything specific you'd like to hear?"
"Beethoven?" she posed, wondering if he knew the muggle composer. To her surprise, he placed his hands on the keys and began "Fur Elise," the melody as soothing as it had always been and the acoustics of the room making her feel as though she were drowning in the music. She closed her eyes and leaned against the balustrade, letting her mind go blank.
The piece finished quickly, and when it was done, her fingers were nearly itching with the desire to play. She turned back to find Draco studying her, and as if he read her thoughts, he stood and motioned to the bench.
"Your turn," He said, a smirk playing about his lips. She nodded gratefully, then sat down and lightly brushed her hands over the keys, hitting a few chords to feel how the instrument responded to her touch. For the first time in what seemed like ages, Hermione gave a tiny smile.
The girl closed her eyes, her fingers coaxing Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" out of the piano. Draco watched, transfixed by the way she played as if the music was part of her, streaming from her soul.
Hermione sighed when the song was done, but it was a content sound. Opening her eyes, she slid over to one side of the bench, nodding at the space beside her.
"Come play something. I'll add to it," she explained. Hesitantly, Draco sat down, deliberating what piece would work best for her plans. Then he began to press the keys.
The first alteration she made caused him to stumble, and she actually laughed a little bit.
"It takes a bit of practice, but you just have to pretend not to hear what I'm doing. Let your fingers keep moving."
He started again, trying to do as she'd instructed and ignore her embellishments as he moved through the piece. Eventually it became easier, and soon they were working flawlessly together, losing track of time as they played song after song.
It was nearing dinner time when the two of them paused, and with the absence of music, the atmosphere quickly grew heavy. Hermione swallowed and looked up at the boy beside her.
"I don't know if I can love you," she whispered, an almost pitying look in her eyes. Draco felt something squeeze in his chest, even though he knew it shouldn't. He couldn't expect her to return any sort of emotion he felt for her; hell, it wasn't like he knew exactly what he felt for her. But he knew he'd done too much to cause her pain, even if indirectly.
His gaze fell to his lap, when all of a sudden he felt her hand on his cheek. His eyes snapped up to meet hers in confusion, only to find her stare now bearing what seemed to be hopefulness.
"But I will try, Draco. For your sake and mine, I will try to learn to love you."
The boy leaned into her touch, his lids fluttering shut as he brought his hand up to cover hers. She gently caressed his cheek with her thumb, then, without entirely considering what she was doing, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his in the faintest of kisses.
It had been a test, really. To see if she felt anything at all from the contact, futile though she thought it would be.
Except, it wasn't.
When she sat back, there was something in her chest, small though it was. It was like when you see someone smiling, and you realize how lovely the expression looks on them, or when you hear them laughing with their friends at something pure; that little bloom of something, not quite affection, but close to it.
That was what she felt as she looked up into his eyes, for the first time noticing the multitude of beautiful shades therein. She also noticed a genuine longing in them, longing for her, and she wondered how long ago it was that he'd looked at her and first felt the blossom in his chest.
The silence grew on, enveloping the pair as they stood from the piano bench. Hermione deliberately reached out and grasped his hand, entwining their fingers. It wasn't formal, like linking arms was. Entering a room with hands held implied a companionship, something real. Draco felt that perhaps it was a start.
A house elf suddenly appeared next to them, bowing and declaring that the evening meal would be served in fifteen minutes before popping away again. Hermione straightened her posture and schooled her features, sliding into the role of proper Pureblood witch.
"Who will be joining us for dinner?" She asked, as they began to amble through the manor. Draco gave her a quizzical look.
"No one, as far as I've been told. Does the Order really think the Death Eaters sit around and take tea with each other if it isn't absolutely necessary?" He said with a disbelieving chuckle. A tinge of pink crept into her cheeks.
"It's not like they knew anything. It was just assumed, since they did know how often gatherings were held here."
"Well, truthfully, many of the people in the Inner Circle can't stand each other. They either envy another's position, or they know that someone envy's theirs and wouldn't hesitate to curse them for it. On the rare occasion we do have meetings over a mealtime, the elves bring food to the people that want it, though usually it's only a few of us that actually eat. I can't imagine sitting down with all of them if we weren't discussing something important; the dining hall probably wouldn't survive."
"What about the Dark Lord? Does he usually eat with your family?"
Draco shook his head. "Only sometimes. He usually just has a house elf bring meals up to his study, since he's too busy to sit down away from his work."
They fell back into silence as they walked. When she looked around, Hermione did notice the absence of other people, and felt naive for thinking that the whole of the Inner Circle just lived in the manor.
They finally came upon the dining room, the girl feeling slightly more at ease, figuring she was capable of dealing with Lucius and Narcissa's cold behavior. However, when Draco pushed the door open and escorted her inside, rage flooded her, and she couldn't be bothered to keep it out of her expression.
Upon entering the dining hall, Hermione saw that not only would they be joined by the Dark Lord, but another guest would be present as well. She glared furiously into the black gaze of the visitor.
Severus Snape.
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