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Chapter Nineteen

Astoria Greengrass sat quietly at the outside patio table, the metal chair would have been uncomfortable under her but the thick padded pillow underneath turned out to be more than a decoration. The plain metal table with a glass top before her had an assortment of pastries and salads with teapot in the middle – the tea set was made of some sort of jade and Astoria inched closer to inspect. She had never seen a jade teapot before and didn't know how the stone before her held the temperature as the porcelain or china she was used to – had to be enchanted, she thought. She had been waiting for nearly ten minutes for the lady of the house, Narcissa Malfoy; she had received a letter early morning asking if she'd like to join her for afternoon Sunday tea and Astoria couldn't say no, according to her parents. Now dressed in black, high waisted trousers, a simple, lavender blouse tucked in to give off the illusion of curves, and a white cardigan over her, four-inch, dark heels, light make-up, and long hair let loose, Astoria was the picture her parents painted – perfect Pureblood princess. Astoria took this time to look out, towards the infamous Malfoy gardens and tried to envision herself as Lady Malfoy. She fought the urge to frown – it was un-lady like, according to her mother. Astoria would be lying to herself if she said she could see herself as Draco Malfoy's wife, but she had no option. Her parents wanted this advantageous marriage and unless she wanted to be penniless and burned from the family tree, Astoria had no say. When she had seen Draco for dinner, he didn't seem interested in marrying her either, but she couldn't blame him. They hardly knew each other and even though their families ran in the same circle, Daphne would have been closer to him than her. Astoria forced herself to sit straighter at the thought of her sister, clutching her hands together so her hands wouldn't fidget. Daphne would have been a more appropriate match for Draco, but when their parents caught wind of a nasty rumor that involved Pansy Parkinson, they decided to punish her in their own way. Astoria couldn't help but to feel pity for her sister; she had already had to give up her secured dream of being engaged to Theo Nott and when another chance came to the life she wanted, it was quickly removed from her. Now, it was Astoria's turn to show how proper and perfect the Greengrass girls were – even if Daphne wasn't in the eyes of their parents. Astoria had to pretend she was enthused by this potential engagement even if she wasn't. Even if she wanted anything but.

"Ms. Greengrass, apologies for keeping you waiting."

Narcissa's airy voice came from behind her, reeling Astoria back from her inner thoughts and secrets. Astoria smiled up at the blonde woman. The Malfoy matriarch wore a fern-colored dress robes that had puffy sleeves and tightened on her wrists, it was a V-shaped neckline, and cinched right underneath her breasts to then flow to her ankles. She also wore matching green heels, bright emerald earrings, and her engagement ring that Astoria never saw her without. Astoria quickly stood up to give matching kisses on the cheeks to Narcissa as Narcissa did the same. As soon as Narcissa sat, Astoria followed. Wordlessly, the tea served itself and bits of salads and pastries loaded themselves onto the smaller, green plates.

"It was a pleasure just sitting here, Mrs. Malfoy."
Astoria replied, still keeping the smile on her lips. Narcissa's almost clear blue eyes didn't leave the younger witch's face and she smiled back, the smile not quite reaching her eyes.

"I'm glad you enjoyed the view."

Narcissa replied before preparing their tea – two sugar cubes and more milk than Astoria would have preferred in her own. Regardless, Astoria took the cup with a gracious smile and didn't wince at the sweet taste on her tongue. After a couple of moments of tea sipping and a few bites of her blueberry-lemon vinaigrette salad, finally Narcissa put her teacup down. Astoria again followed suit and placed her own cup down, dropping her hands on her lap.

"I've spoken to Draco about the revised engagement contract."

She said. Astoria nodded, noticing how Narcissa then ceased to make eye contact. Astoria's stomach dropped of its own accord; part of her was all nerves. She again clasped her hands together, waiting for Narcissa to continue.

"He's not keen on marrying young, but I'm sure we can change that."

Narcissa said, smirking slightly and winking at the younger witch. Astoria's smile faltered as she forced a giggle to leave her lips despite the bundle of nerves surrounding her. A part of her was relieved – Draco didn't want to marry her. But the other part, the stronger emotion that threaten to spill all over Narcissa Malfoy's nice tea set and beautiful lawn, had Astoria terrified. If she couldn't get Draco Malfoy to marry her, her parents would surely fault her and punish her in their own way. She had overheard her mother saying, prior to the Avery heir appearing, that they could sell off their eldest daughter to the highest Pureblood bidder in the high mountains of Norway regardless of age; overhearing her parents conversation made Astoria sick. How could they do this to Daphne? She asked herself constantly for days. Astoria knew her parents disagreed with Daphne's choices, but she was shocked by their words. How could they feel so little for their daughter to give her away to a random man up north? Astoria thought to herself. Their childhoods hadn't been rough by any means; their parents were doting and strict when needed, but never outright cruel. But the war had changed them – starting when Nott Sr. disbanding the engagement contract. Since then, her parents had been more eager to save face then their daughters' happiness. The threat of being sold off lurked in the back of Astoria's mind and was becoming more of a possibility for her if she didn't secure her engagement with Draco Malfoy – whether she wanted to or not.

"How will we change that, Mrs. Malfoy?"

Astoria asked after clearing her throat. Astoria emphasized the 'we' in her question knowing who she was talking to – a snake in her own right. Slytherins didn't outright ask for help, nor did they give it without something in return. Astoria assumed Narcissa liked her the best to be a future Malfoy bride and she was grateful for it. The thought of Narcissa Malfoy being on her side soothed Astoria enough to not let her anxiety show; if one had their future mother-in-law's support, one could definitely get married – Almera once told her youngest. Narcissa reached for her teacup, bringing it slowly to her lips before drinking it. Astoria watched the deliberate movements, again trying to not her anxiousness seep out of her.

"Malfoys want the best, so my dear, we will simply make you the best."

[-]

Hermione's eyes widened at the apology leaving Draco Malfoy's lips. Suddenly Hermione was gripped with a wave of terror, washing over her. Despite sounding and looking sincere, Hermione couldn't help the odd laugh that escaped her bitten lips.

"You're joking, aren't you?"

She asked, half-hysterical, half-serious as she took several steps back. She needed space, she needed air; suddenly the beautiful solarium was too much, too small. Even when she saw his face fall and those damn walls rise back up, the ever-solemn platinum blond reappearing, she shook her head, her curls rioting around her as she quickly left the room. He must be joking. She repeated to herself, suddenly tearing up at the overwhelming feelings coming over her. She hadn't expected any of this, maybe a short apology for his irrational behavior, but not all of this. 'I'm sorry for not knowing better.' The first apology sent a pleasing, warming feeling over her; he was apologizing for being a dick to her in school and that was long overdue. She could take that; she could take current Draco Malfoy apologizing for his childhood behavior when he didn't have a say in how he was being raised. She could handle that. But then he continued, and Hermione didn't know what to think, how to react, how to feel. 'I'm sorry for not stopping Bellatrix.' His second apology sent a cold chill throughout her body, replacing the warm feeling she had prior to it. She froze, remembering that awful day in his family home, his gray eyes watching her and then looking away as if he couldn't handle it. Hermione had no clue where she was heading, but the tears streaming down her face and the gasps of air she took indicated she was having a panic attack; knowing what was happening and trying to do something about it was a completely different thing – even for the brightest witch of her year. Instinctively, she scratched the words written on her left arm, still half-walking, half-running through Nott Manor. The last apology was the one that sent her over the edge, 'I'm sorry for being lesser than.' She could take an apology for her being a bully in Hogwarts, hell she could have even taken the apology about his insane aunt, but she couldn't handle this one. Hermione couldn't handle how sincere he had sounded, how desperate he had looked at her, and how his words were echoing throughout her head. Hermione couldn't help but to feel like this last apology was more than an apology; it was an opening to something else, something more, and she was not prepared for any of it. Finally, her panic attack was taking full force and it made Hermione stop halfway on a random staircase, making her gasp for air.

"Fuck!"

She yelled out; she began to try her best to calm herself down – as I should have done to begin with, she mentally scolded herself. Hermione sat down on the carpeted step, holding her knees tightly to her chest as she placed her forehead on her knees. Slowly, painstakingly slowly to her, she began to count numbers, whispering them out loud as she forced her breathing to become regular. Numbers were always the easiest for her to focus on; she once tried to name the ingredients to the Draught of Living Death, knowing them by heart, but failed miserably not even halfway in. Hermione had to calm herself before her panic attack made her faint. She had learned her mistake and stuck to numbers. Hermione was on number eighty-four before she felt a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened, not bothering to look up, but focused on making it to a hundred. She knew it could only be one out of three, but she wasn't ready to face either of them. Slowly, her heartrate was returning to normal as were her breaths and she didn't want to stop just in case. Finally reaching a hundred and eight, Hermione peeked through her curls to see Theo's concerned blue gaze.

"Do you need anything?"
Theo asked her softly. His question brought fresh tears to her eyes and her heart swelled at the considerate action. Despite not knowing Theo for a long time, speaking to him for a shorter amount of time, he never judged and always tried his best to help. She felt awful, physically, and emotionally; she had broken down in her friend's home after her – friend? Friendly acquaintance? Former enemy? – tried to apologize to her. What's the matter with you? Hermione couldn't help to question herself.

"P-perhaps a pepper-up potion?"

She asked softly back.

"Tough luck, Mia, Theo doesn't keep those here."

Blaise's voice coming from the bottom of the stairs perked Hermione up. She quickly wiped away her stained cheeks and looked down at the Italian wizard. He sent her a small smirk before he walked towards them. She couldn't help but to look around for the last Slytherin.

"He's not here."

Theo answered her unasked question. Hermione frowned, standing up as if he was lying to her, thinking he'd be close by. She immediately felt lightheaded and squeezed her eyes tight at the swooping motion coursing through her.

"He wanted to give you space."

Theo said. Hermione exhaled deeply, opening her eyes, before nodding, letting her right hand try to smooth down her curls around her.

"I'll get some tea."

Blaise paused before ending his offer with,

"And Draco, if you want."
Blaise finished, his smirk leaving and in place a serious line on his lips that Hermione had never seen. After a few seconds of her fidgeting with her hands, she nodded.

"Yes."

She said and Blaise nodded, walking down and leaving her and Theo on the staircase. Now it was her turn to apologize to him and while she didn't feel up to it, Hermione didn't think Malfoy was the type of person to actually let space and time heal all wounds. She could still see his hardened stare forming back into place when he had been so open before. She had been wrong to laugh at his sincerity, Hermione knew this, and she wanted to at least apologize for that. Before Hermione could say anything to the other Slytherin beside her, Theo's hand found her right arm and he pulled her towards him. She let him and assumed he was going to hug her once more, but Theo's free hand swiftly lifted the sleeve to her jumper, revealing the scratched, and now bleeding, mark. The words were angry, red, and swollen from digging her nails into herself. Hermione jerked away from him, instantly glaring at him as she pulled her sleeve back down. She hadn't remembered scratching herself but now looking at her right hand, she saw the blood painting her fingernails. Fuck. She thought. It was one of Hermione's best kept secrets, and now it was out. She had only ever told Harry and Ron about what had happened to her – both boys angry with Bellatrix Lestrange's prejudiced actions against her. But she was dead and the only other people that knew were the Malfoys; now Theo did as well.

"Bellatrix did that."
Theo stated not asking. Hermione didn't answer and then she was fully wrapped in a hug again. She froze for a couple of seconds before finally relenting and let herself relax in Theo's strong hold. She inhaled deeply at his fresh scent with a hint of firewhiskey. Hermione hugged his middle back.

"Can I help?"

He asked softly after a few silent moments. Hermione hesitated, knowing she rarely asked help when it came to her own mark. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she nodded against him.

"Please don't tell anyone."

She whispered as she let go and began making her way down the stairs. She didn't get far when Theo squeezed her shoulders, arm slung around them, offering a gentle smile at her.

"Tell them what?"

He playfully said and she couldn't help the smile she returned. He led the way back, Hermione lost in a post-panic attack daze. The next several moments, Hermione felt as in a fog. She remembered sitting in a blue room, curtains had been drawn, sitting on top of a lush bed. She remembered Theo cleaning her wound, numb to the sting the cleaning agent provided, and couldn't make sense of what he was massaging into her flesh. Is this what it's like to be cared for?Hermione asked herself, watching through muddled lenses his gentle administrations, how he concentrated. It feels nice. She absentmindedly thought to herself. Hermione watched as the apple of Theo's cheeks turned from its usual pale color to a vibrant pink.

"I was afraid it was going to hurt. I'm glad it doesn't."

Theo said and she realized she had said her last thought out loud. She didn't have the energy to be embarrassed, instead lazily smiled down at her friend before her. Finally, he wrapped the words up with a clean wrap and then pulled her now clean sleeve back down to cover it. In record time he had managed to help her when Blaise came walking in with a teacup and saucer in hand.

"Here you go, love."

Blaise said, stopping in front of her as Theo got up to go elsewhere. Hermione reached out for the tea but did it out of habit and slowly took a sip. It was bitter with a hint of lemon.

"It has two drops of Calming Draught."

Blaise said softly and Hermione nodded once. She was still in a haze and with the added potion on her tongue, she could feel herself unraveling – in a pleasant, not manic way. She started feeling at ease, less hazy but not wound up. Theo came back and when he showed up so did Malfoy. Hermione stood up, dropping the saucer but keeping hold of the teacup. It didn't fall on the boards below and break, as Hermione expected it to. Instead, it hovered for a few seconds before redirecting itself to her open hand. Hermione grasped it and smiled at Blaise, his wand pointing at the saucer.

"Thank you, Blaise, Theo."

She said. She didn't know if he casted a nonverbal spell or he actually said something, but Hermione was grateful. Before they could say anything in return she continued,

"Can I speak with Draco alone?"

She asked. Once again, Hermione didn't notice – whether it was from obliviousness or because of the potion – the silent communication at the sound of Draco's first name on her lips between the three wizards. Blaise didn't say anything, but exited out the room while Theo reached her, holding onto her right forearm.

"I'll be close if you need anything."

He whispered to her, smiling reassuring her. Hermione nodded at his words, forcing a quick smile, before he left as well. Then it was just Malfoy staring at her with such an intensity, Hermione was sure if not for the tea, she would have had a mild panic attack again. Breathe, she told herself. Inhaling deeply and taking another sip, Hermione placed her teacup back in the saucer and placed it on the bed before her. She cleared her throat and nervously ran one hand through her curls and the other clenched and unclenched besides her. Malfoy never stopped staring.

"I'm sorry for laughing. I didn't mean to."

She said, her eyes finally landing unto his stormy ones. A wave of surprised passed his impasse mask before it quickly disappeared. He was standing at the doorway, arms crossed, and leaning against it. He cleared his throat.

"If that's all you wanted to apologize about, then apology accepted."

He said. His words caused a bewildered look to sprout on her face – her eyebrows furrowed, and she tilted her head to the side slightly.

"What do you mean?"

She asked.

"Your reaction, sans laughing, was completely acceptable."

He responded.

"It was?"

She questioned. She certainly didn't think so, but the fact that Draco Malfoy did left her completely flabbergasted. He nodded once, letting his arms fall to his sides, still leaning against the wooden frame. Apparently, her confusion only showed more causing Malfoy sighed softly, leaning his head back. The fringes of his pale hair pushed against his eyelashes.

"You've got a lot on your plate, Granger. My apologies were over the top for you and I don't blame you for reacting the way you did."

He explained. A wave of relief and a deep exhale followed his words from Hermione; she couldn't help the soft grin pulling at her lips at his explanation. Malfoy heard her and looked back down towards her, momentarily stunned at the smile she was given him. Slowly, Hermione walked her way towards him and stopped a few feet away, stretching out her right hand to him. He eyed her cautiously before slowing reaching for it with his own right hand.

"Friends?"

She asked, almost whispering. Hermione knew she didn't owe him anything, much less friendship, but she wanted to extend it to him if he still wanted it. He had changed and she was already friendly with his own mates. It just makes sense, she thought to herself, gripping onto his rather warm hand as he gripped back. The two stared at each other for a while; Hermione noticed his forming dark circles under his eyes, the sharpness of his cheekbones, and how his pale pink lips contrasted against his pale skin. Finally, Hermione let go, letting her hand fall back to her side as he did the same. Malfoy had a serious look on his face, his gray eyes boring into her brown ones. This time though, she didn't feel uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

"Friends."

He replied.