A/N- Happy Friday, my lovelies! This chapter is a whopper- also, one of my favorites! Hope you enjoy!
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The moment they landed in the front gardens of Chateau Malfoy, something felt a bit off to Draco. Perhaps a subtle change in the wards.
He glanced around, taking in the carefully manicured landscaping while guardedly eyeing the other properties dotting the coastline. Seeing nothing readily amiss, he looked down at Hermione. "Everything all right?"
The dizzying aftermath of Portkeying the lengthy distance, along with the distinctive smell of fish emanating from the seaside harbor town left her looking a bit peaky. "I'll be ok in a minute. Just a touch woozy is all."
He stood there rubbing steady circles on her hunched back. "I know. I'll never get used to this wretched smell."
"It may very well have something to do with the fact that Ginny fed me two glasses of wine before we left. I think it may have gone to my head there for a moment."
"I thought I made it clear I need you in top form for tonight's performance."
He smirked when she looked up at him with a reproachful glare.
"I hardly think two glasses of wine is enough to send me over the edge. I can more than hold my own, I'll have you know." She remained bent at the waist, hands on her knees for support.
"Yes, it really looks like you're holding your own," he muttered under his breath.
"Would you shut it, Malfoy?" she admonished, with a swift backhand to his stomach. "It takes a moment or two to set myself to rights after Portkeying. And hearing you chirping in my ear isn't helping."
"Looks like we have the bickering like an old married couple pretty well mastered, so by all accounts, the rest of the evening should be a breeze." He rolled his eyes, continuing to scan the chateau grounds for anything out of place.
Ever so gingerly, Hermione finally stood upright, slowly running her hands down the front of her dress. "There, I think I feel better now. How do I look?"
Draco's eyes caught hers, immediately recalling how distracting her appearance had been the last time he'd made the mistake of looking. "You look exactly the same as you did before we left," he muttered indifferently, clearing his throat and looking away.
She nodded her head, blinking. "Well, alright then. I suppose I'm ready when you are."
He nodded in return and extended his arm toward the pathway as encouragement to begin walking. "We should be fine if you let me do most of the talking. Oh- and my mother will likely try to get you alone under the pretense of having tea together. Whatever you do, do not accept. Better yet, don't leave my side if you can at all help it."
She abruptly stopped, looking up at him with welling exasperation. "You are just now telling me all this?"
"When exactly would you have preferred for me to tell you?"
"I don't know. Sometime before when we're moments from stepping through the front door!" she hissed. "I need time to mentally prepare myself for any constraints and conditions placed upon me!"
He barked out a shrill laugh, shaking his head. "This isn't advanced arithmancy, Granger. It's simple- keep the talking to a minimum and don't leave my side." Seeing her agitation persist, he added, "We'll be out of here quicker than you can say mimbulus mimbletonia."
Her eyes narrowed as she stared up at him. "Fine. But in the future, if there's anything you need for me to know, it would be immensely helpful if you wouldn't wait until it's far too late to tell me."
"Sure, Granger. I won't wait until it's too late." He rolled his eyes, angling his head so she wouldn't see his flagrant dismissal.
"Now that that's sorted, are you ready to go inside?" he asked, proffering out his arm again.
"As ready as I'll ever be."
She threaded her arm through his and walked with steady confidence up the stone steps leading to the marble archway.
"Remember, Granger, you're smitten with me. So do try to at least act like you can tolerate me."
"Likewise," she echoed, jutting out her chin.
Just as Draco reached forward to turn the knob on the front door, it all at once swung open to reveal the imposing presence of the Malfoy family butler.
Hermione's eyes nearly bulged out of her head as she regarded the clean-shaven, tuxedo-clad human standing before her.
Admittedly, she'd fully assumed the Malfoy estate would be staffed with an army of house elves so this was rather off-putting to say the very least.
"Master Malfoy," he said, looking surprised. "Are the Lord and Lady expecting you this evening?"
Several paces behind the butler in the grand entryway stood Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, both impeccably dressed in elegant formal attire- Lucius in a crisp black and white tuxedo and Narcissa in a silver floor-length ball gown.
Hermione inwardly cursed Ginny for her accurate depiction of their casual evening wear.
Both stood poised as peacocks at the foot of the grand staircase.
When Narcissa caught a glimpse of her son, her perfectly-sculped eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. "Draco? Is that you?" she called out in astonishment, before striding forward, heels clicking on the white marble floor.
Feeling unease settle in his stomach at the sight of his parents dressed for a soiree, Draco clutched Hermione's arm tighter in his grasp. "Yes, Mother. Please forgive the intrusion. I had no knowledge you'd be heading out for the evening. We're simply here to pick up something Father set aside for me. We should only be a moment."
His eyes traveled beyond where his mother stood and landed squarely on his father, who remained stoically perched at the foot of the staircase. A battle ignited behind the elder's eyes when he overheard the reason for his son's impromptu visit. Not one to be outdone by the likes of his ineffectual heir, he sauntered through the foyer and took his station next to his wife. "What's this I hear, Draco? You've come all this way unannounced only to turn right around and go running back to London? And you've brought a little friend, I see." His disdainful eyes settled upon Hermione who didn't so much as flinch under his inhospitable glare.
"Oh, yes, my dear. How lovely. Why don't you introduce us to your friend." A pained smile tightened across Narcissa's face as she stiffly clasped her hands in front of her waist.
Draco audibly cleared his throat, narrowing his eyes at both his parents before glancing down at Hermione with his best adoring eyes. "Mother. Father. You both remember Hermione Granger."
Narcissa released a noise that sounded much like a gasp, but it was so dignified one could hardly call it so. "Why, yes, Miss Granger! How lovely to see you. I didn't recognize you without the hair." She gestured to Hermione's chignon. "Lucius, isn't this delightful?" She turned to her husband who stood there wearing a sour expression on his face.
"Yes, of course," he replied with a strained politeness, discreetly shooting daggers at his son.
Narcissa reached out and took both Hermione's hands in hers. "Miss Granger, how charming, do come in!" She pulled her with determination through the doorway as Draco looked on. Thus far, Hermione had kept to her word and hadn't muttered a peep, but his mother's insistence on dragging her into the foyer all but required her protest.
"Mrs. Malfoy, we mustn't intrude on your evening. Draco and I really should be going to allow for your timely departure."
Narcissa loosed a tinkling laugh that sounded eerily like a set of wind chimes. "Oh, don't be silly. We're not leaving. In fact, you're just in time to join us for our Snow Owl Fundraiser. Isn't that right, Lucius?"
Lucius shuddered with displeasure but answered with the same strained politeness. "That's right. We'd love more than anything for you to join us." The false assertion appeared to taste like ash on his tongue.
Meanwhile, Hermione shot Draco a quiet plea for help causing him to step through the threshold, brusquely moving past his father to reclaim his place at her side. "That's very gracious of you, Mother, but we really must be getting back. Father, if you wouldn't mind." He turned back to face his father before adding, "Where might I be able to find the publication I requested?"
Seeing the unforseen opportunity for what it was, the ever-calculating Lucius' mouth curved into a polished sneer. "Why the rush, Draco? Surely you and Miss Granger have the time to support a charitable cause before racing off."
The words sounded a whole lot like checkmate.
Draco schooled his features as he clung to whatever scant amount of patience remained. He looked over at his mother whose eyes were alight, seemingly overjoyed at their unexpected intrusion. "Perhaps we could manage an hour or so," he replied coolly, gripping Hermione's arm like a vice. "What do you say, love?"
He glanced down to find her looking up at him with dutifully reverent eyes capable of murder.
"I'd love nothing more," she choked out with an enthusiastic smile.
"Well, it's settled then. Niles, please show Miss Granger to her room."
"I'm sorry, what?" she managed, just as the butler approached from the corner of her eye. "I'm not st-"
"Of course you're not staying, Miss Granger. But with this being a formal affair, you'll naturally need a ballgown. And my seamstress, Camile...she really is the best there is...you'll absolutely adore her."
Hermione had to crane her neck to hear what remained of her assertion, as she was being unceremoniously lead by the butler up the winding staircase.
"I'll come check on you shortly, love," Draco called out to her when she was halfway up the stairs.
If looks could kill, he would have been Avada'd on the spot.
When she turned the corner out of sight, Lucius rounded on him menacingly, "What is the meaning of this?" he spat, face contorted with rage.
"What ever do you mean, Father?" Draco asked in a bored tone, blatantly unaffected eyes trained on his father's.
"You know exactly what I mean, bringing a witch into our home when we are nearing the end of our negotiations with the Arsenau family!"
"I believe you misspoke." Draco's bold admonition dripped with an air of insolence. "You said we are nearing the end of our negotiations when, in fact, I have had no part in any such arrangement."
"How dare you!" Lucius glowered down his nose at him. "You know the lengths we've gone to acquire the proper affiliation for you and our family!"
Draco chuckled mirthlessly. "Affiliation? Is that what you call a marriage these days?"
"Lucius, please," Narcissa cut in. "Now is not the time for this. Guests will be arriving shortly."
Lucius' jaw tightened as he adjusted his tuxedo coat. "You've not heard the end of this," he spat before turning and stalking away.
"Don't mind him, my dear," his mother said airily, gently patting his cheek. "He's always a bit on edge right before an event. Why don't you get changed and go mingle with the other guests when they arrive. I'll see to it that Miss Granger is taken care of."
Draco nodded curtly, before leaning forward and blithely kissing his mother's cheek.
As he disappeared into the atrium, Narcissa flagged down one of the servers to greet the arriving guests at the door in her stead.
"Please show them into the ballroom. I shall return in a moment or two."
Meanwhile, Hermione paced back and forth, nearly wearing a path in the floor of the upstairs bedroom. Attending a gala most certainly was not part of the plan when she'd agreed to accompany Draco to the chateau. And neither was getting separated from the infuriating sod. What exactly was he thinking agreeing to stay for the soiree? And how was she to pull off the part of a smitten witch when right now she could scarcely stand to look at him? Just as her inner musings reached a fever pitch, she heard a light knock on the bedroom door.
"Come in," she pronounced, quickly righting herself to feign composure.
She looked up to see the regal presence of Narcissa Malfoy sashaying into the room, expression unreadable.
"Has Camile been by to take your measurements?" she inquired brightly, with the beginnings of a warm smile.
"Yes, thank you. You were right, she's quite lovely."
Her hands searched for a place to halt their anxious fidgeting but finding none, they settled for hanging limply at her sides.
A measure of silence momentarily enveloped them before Narcissa began smoothly, "Miss Granger, I do say, it was a surprise to see you arrive tonight with my son. Am I to assume you are more than acquaintances?"
She drifted through the room with an air of purpose, assiduously straightening the pleats on the draperies while also giving Hermione the illusion of her full and undivided attention.
"We've been spending a fair amount of time together as of late," she answered, aiming for the truth while not yet committing to their lie.
"Mmmmmm. Odd that my son failed to mention that when he was here on Sunday." She turned around to face Hermione with a certain brand of cynicism of which only Narcissa Malfoy was capable. "Surely you must have known he's been taking meetings with other witches." She inclined her eyebrow, boldly indicating it was a question and not a statement.
Hermione recognized her claim as a blatant challenge, which only served to strengthen her resolve.
"Draco hides nothing from me."
Narcissa's eyes narrowed as she nodded appraisingly. "While that may be the case, we are exceedingly close to securing a marriage contract for him. Surely you can see how this little unexpected dalliance might be problematic."
Hermione forced a smile. "With all due respect, Mrs. Malfoy, I'd hardly call what we have a dalliance."
"What would you call it then, Miss Granger?" Her sweeping form now loomed somewhere in the realm of what Hermione would refer to as her personal space, causing her to feel much like a cornered hippogriff.
She audibly cleared her throat, squaring her shoulders. "Draco and I are comm-"
Before she could finish, Camile slipped through the doorway clutching a jaw-dropping ensemble close to her chest.
The seamstress bowed her head with a light curtsy toward Narcissa as she entered. "Good evening, Lady Malfoy. As you requested."
Eyes alight, she held out a midnight blue ballgown for her approval, nimble fingers quick to point out the addition of intricate silk and satin trim along the low-cut neckline. What could only be diamonds were magically sewn into the fabric there, causing the "V" to sparkle in the dim lighting of the bedroom.
Narcissa reached out her hand and ran it along the outer edge. "Oh, Camile, this is simply exquisite!" She glanced over to where Hermione stood marveling at the garment in stunned silence. "What do you think, Miss Granger?"
Mouth agape, Hermione struggled to find the appropriate words. "It's stunning, Camile. Thank you. And thank you, as well," she added, turning to Narcissa.
"Camile, be a doll and hang Miss Granger's dress over there by the wardrobe," she said with a saccharine smile, gesturing across the room. "Miss Granger and I will be finishing up soon and then I will leave you both to it."
Camile keenly picked up on the subtle dismissal.
When they again found themselves alone, Narcissa persisted undeterred. "Miss Granger, you have to know my son would never bring a witch home were it not serious." Her eyes bore into hers with renewed fervor. "There is no length I won't go for my son's happiness, even if it means I must go against my own husband." Her eyes narrowed, unblinking. "So before we proceed any further, I need to know if this is more than just a temporary diversion for you."
Hermione hadn't expected the conversation with the elder witch to delve beyond the superficial so her earnest petition for the truth threw her mercilessly out of her comfort zone. It was one thing to masquerade as Malfoy's girlfriend to prove a point, but seeing his mother stand before her staging a heartfelt inquisition caused a cauldron of unease to oscillate in her stomach.
"I want nothing more than your son's happiness, so on that we can both agree." It wasn't a lie. Despite their differences, she had grown to not completely abhor his company and therefore he certainly deserved to be just as happy as the next wizard in her estimation. "But, perhaps this conversation would be better suited for you to have with your son." She searched the elder witch's face for understanding.
The whole reason for her accompanying Draco to the chateau that evening was to set the stage for an open dialogue about his preferences in the matter of marriage, so if she could achieve that end, it would arguably be a successful endeavor.
Narcissa released a strained breath of resignation. "If I'm being completely honest with you, Miss Granger, I could have predicted this would happen." She stepped forward to recommence her punctilious straightening of effects, this time the object of her diligent delineation was Hermione's ballgown.
"I'm sorry?" she asked, advancing to stand closer to the matriarch. "What could you have predicted?"
"That my son would eventually find his way to you. He's nothing if not tenacious," she mused, shuffling absently along the bureau where various accessories lay displayed, methodically nudging each adornment into its proper place.
When Hermione cleared her throat to formulate a reply, Narcissa cut her off, adding, "In all the years at Hogwarts, you're all he ever talked about, really. Not all of it was pleasant, mind you- but a mother knows her son. I could see right through his hostility. There's a reason they say there's a fine line between love and hate, Miss Granger." Her tinkling wind chimes laughter returned, this time causing a jolt of uneasiness to course up Hermione's spine.
Their eyes met and she hoped hers didn't betray her outright alarm at the witch's highly improbable divulsion. Feeling as if a snitch might be lodged in her throat, she coughed lightly.
"Did he not tell you?" she asked, seeing the blank look on Hermione's face.
She tutted. "Perhaps he does hide some things from you after all."
Her mouth twisted into an artful grin.
Hermione rarely found herself at a loss for words, but this was undeniably one such occasion. Narcissa seemed to notice so she added, "Well, I must be getting back downstairs. I shall let Camile know you're ready." She sidestepped Hermione, gliding effortlessly over to the door.
Right before departing, she pivoted smoothly, shooting Hermione a silky glance over her shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing. Please...call me Narcissa. If we are to be family like I expect we will be, it's best we drop the formalities now." Her grin widened into a smile before she vanished into the hallway and out of sight as Hermione fought to catch her breath.
Mere moments later, Narcissa encountered a tuxedo-clad Draco in the chateau foyer, where he stood clutching a champagne flute. Approaching him with tempered ease, she whispered, "She'll be down soon," loud enough so only he would hear. Before he could manage a reply, she floated past to greet the arriving guests.
Draco shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, silently wondering how the conversation between her and Hermione went. He knew without a doubt that Hermione could hold her own in a face-off against either of his parents, but her overt displeasure with him left a lingering doubt that she may very well blow their cover.
Just as he was replacing his empty champagne flute onto the tray of a passing attendant, he noticed a stirring at the top of the stairs from the corner of his eye. His head did a double-take, not wanting to believe the sight that loomed before him.
A strikingly demure Hermione Granger dressed in a floor-length ballgown the color of the night sky locked eyes with his, causing an unfamiliar swooping sensation to stir in his stomach as he fought the urge to ogle.
The back of her chestnut hair had been let down in voluminous locks left to cascade loosely at her shoulders, while the top was secured back in a twist that accentuated the natural angles of her face. When she saw him, her mouth curved into a half-smile which Draco mirrored as he held his hand out for her painstakingly slow approach down the staircase.
His heart raced in his chest as the warmth of her hand chased up his arm. "You look radiant," he said nearly breathless.
Her eyelashes fluttered lightly. "As do you."
To any onlooker, the ardent reunion unfolded like something out of a storybook. Flushed faces, longing glances.
With polished grace, Hermione withdrew a glass of champagne from a proffered tray as their spellbound audience turned and watched with arrested captivation as they made their way toward the ballroom with the sweeping elegance of royalty.
As they neared the end of the empty corridor leading to their long-anticipated grand entrance, and just beyond view of the crowd, Hermione yanked Draco forcefully by the arm into an adjoining cloak closet, shoving him gruffly against the wall before slamming the door.
"Granger, what the f-"
"Don't even start if you know what's good for you," she growled, lunging at him. "How could you not have known your parents were hosting a charity fundraiser tonight of all nights?" she hissed, poking him repeatedly in the chest.
Had Draco been able to see her, he was sure her face would be more threatening than the violent prodding.
He stepped forward with a menacing vehemence of his own. "My parents are both adults, Granger. They hardly need to run their social calendars past me."
When she didn't reply, he spoke again-"Granger?"-while trying and failing to see her under the cover of darkness.
He reached forward to feel for her presence when his hand connected with her arm, which was bent at the elbow with the champagne flute attached to her lips.
"Are you drinking?" he spat, pulling it away while she fought to swallow the last gulp.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't be," she hissed, yanking her arm from his grasp.
"For starters, you might not remember, but you just shoved me into a cloak closet and as a result, WE WERE IN THE MIDDLE OF A CONVERSATION! And secondly, I don't need you running around here pissed!"
"Oh, right, yes...our conversation...remind me again where we were." Her haughty voice dripped with sarcasm. "Yes, now I remember- we were at the part where you said, and I quote, 'Perhaps we could manage an hour or so.' End quote. "What ever were you thinking?" she asked, resuming her finger assault on his chest.
"What was I supposed to say, Granger? Better yet, I didn't see you piping in with any better ideas!"
"Maybe that's because I was told to, and I quote, 'Let you do most of the talking.' End quote."
"Would you stop doing that whole quotation marks thing? It's rather irritating!"
"Not nearly as irritating as being cornered by your mother and being forced to discuss the intimate details of our relationship!" She leaned forward with one hand digging a crater into her hip.
By now his eyes had sufficiently adjusted, allowing him to see the outline of her ferocious form. "She did what?" he asked incredulously. "Please tell me you didn't blow it, Granger."
He anxiously ran his hand through his perfectly coiffed hair as he began to shift on his feet.
"Blowing it would have been a welcome alternative to what actually happened- which was your mother all but planning our wedding."
"Don't joke around, Granger," he said in a dangerously low voice.
"I wish I were joking. Your mother thinks we've found our way back to one another after all these years."
"That's what she said?"
"In not so many words."
"You're right, that is infinitely worse. FUCK!" he groaned. "Leave it to you to completely bungle even the simplest of tasks."
"Me?" she asked, her voice rising in indignation. "If it weren't for you pining for me ever since childhood, we wouldn't be in this situation to begin with!"
"Pining for you?" He plucked the champagne glass from her hand and sniffed it for mind-altering potions before handing it back. "Are you mad? I w-"
"That's what your mother told me," she supplied, jutting out her chin.
"And you believed her? Granger, my mother was in Slytherin- she's about as cunning as they come."
She crossed her arms. "So you weren't pining for me?"
He rolled his eyes, scoffing. "I-"
All at once, the door swung open, revealing the disdainful grimace of none other than Lucius Malfoy.
Draco scrambled to thread his fingers through hers.
"Well, isn't this cozy," Lucius sneered. "Having fun, are we?"
He stared down his nose at his son who struggled to right his eyes from the blinding light pouring in.
Hermione leaned against Draco, resting her head comfortably on his shoulder. "Surely you remember what it was like to be young and in love, Mr. Malfoy."
Her coquettish grin only served to goad him further.
"The auction is starting," he hissed, furious gaze darting back and forth between them. "So, quit acting like a couple of teenagers and go join the others."
The sour scowl never once left his face as he bitterly turned and stalked off.
When he was firmly out of sight, Draco leaned down and growled in her ear. "Now we're in love, are we? Gods, Granger, do you ever know when to stop?"
"Pardon me if none of this was part of my pre-Portkey briefing. You're acting like I was somehow supposed to know we're not in love."
Draco's shoulders slumped as he dragged a hand down his face in defeat. "Just stick to the plan, please. No more going off script." He looked up at her imploringly, adding with a forced calm, "Let's go out there, have a couple hors-d'oeuvres, get the book, and go home."
"Fine," she said, feeling for the first time his hand still in hers. "As long as you hold up to your end of the deal and not allow us to get separated again."
"Deal," he said before slipping out the opened door with her in tow.
Lucius stood alone at a pedestal table on the periphery of the dance floor, sipping champagne and nibbling at his duck pate en croute, when he saw Draco and Hermione slip through the double doors at the back of the ballroom.
Meanwhile, Narcissa addressed the crowd from an elevated platform, wrapping up her commendation speech by thanking everyone for their attendance and generous efforts in curbing the extinction of the majestic snow owl.
The pair's clandestine arrival did not go unnoticed by the clever witch as her eyes drifted over to meet her husband's.
"Now, please do enjoy the delightful service as our chateau staff makes their rounds. Our silent auction will begin shortly followed by an enchanted evening of dancing beneath the stars." Her arm gracefully outstretched to unveil the ceiling charmed to mirror the night sky.
Gasps of awe could be heard from around the room as the guests watched the antique white ceiling transform into inky blacks and blues blanketed with glinting astral patterns. Some made quick work of pointing out the various constellations and others simply stared in wonder at the intricately complex charm.
As the din grew louder, Narcissa made her way across the stage, descending into the crowd and pausing to mingle with the now spirited partygoers.
"Sneaking off to somewhere else?" Lucius chided as the pair approached the walkway near his table. He raised the champagne flute to his lips and peered questioningly over its rim.
Draco stopped, donning a heavily guarded look upon his face. "I should ask you the same. Shouldn't you be consorting with all your close personal friends?" He motioned with his chin toward the room filled with throngs of people immersed in trivial chatter. "Surely there's someone here for you to conspire with."
Lucius snorted derisively. "Funny you should mention- you just missed the head of the French consulate who stopped by to inquire where his contact at the Ministry's Department of Magical Games and Sports has been for the past week." He studied his son's face with artful recrimination, taking another sip of champagne. "You can imagine my surprise to learn my wayward son has been away from his office- only to discover-" He looked disdainfully toward Hermione. "That you've been globetrotting here with Miss Granger. Perhaps you owe Mr. DuBois an explanation as to why you've yet to return his owls. Or better yet, do enlighten me as to what seems to be monopolizing all your time these days." His razor-sharp eyes looked straight through his son's.
Draco cleared his throat with conviction. "Even a lowly associate in Magical Games and Sports is provided sufficient holiday leave to enjoy life's finer offerings." His jaw tightened as he returned his father's guileful stare.
"Is that so?" he said doubtfully, eyes catching their entwined hands as his gaze swept across the room. "I find it rather intriguing that you've gone missing from your post, only to show up with Miss Granger, demanding I relinquish ancestral artefacts for your perusal."
He languidly drained the remains of his flute.
Hermione's hand tightened in Draco's, giving rise to a thin layer of perspiration. "The only thing intriguing is why you were somehow incapable of sending it to me in the first place, thereby avoiding these unnecessary theatrics."
Lucius tittered while drawing another champagne glass from a passing tray. "Can I be faulted for wanting to spend time with my son?"
His face contorted challengingly.
Hermione watched closely as the exchange between father and son grew heated, the grip on his hand now nearly crushing in its intensity.
"You and I both know-"
"Ahhh, Draco darling, there you are," Narcissa cut in, gliding over and draping her hand across his arm. "Mr. DuBois has been looking for you. Something about the French National Quidditch tournament." She flapped her hand dismissively before looking beyond her son to where Hermione stood. "Miss Granger, you look simply stunning if I do say so myself. Doesn't she look stunning, Lucius?"
Lucius forced a sanguine smile. "Why yes, my dear. I was just telling Draco how her mere presence is cause for immense intrigue," he said, severe gaze yet again falling on Draco. "Perhaps I may have the good fortune of accompanying her on a walk around the estate while you tend to Ministry business." His calculating grin widened as he addressed his son.
Hermione felt her heart stutter in her chest with the shrewd attempt at separating them once again.
"That won't be necessary," Draco replied. "We were just about to-"
"I think that's a splendid idea," Narcissa interrupted with a delighted lilt to her voice. "Please- have a look around at all the exquisite silent auction items. And Lucius, do show Miss Granger the view of the marina- it's quite lovely this time of night." She turned to Draco as he moved to pull Hermione closer. Narcissa, quick to notice the subtle gesture, added smoothly, "There will be plenty of time for canoodling once the music begins. Now, run along. Mr. DuBois is waiting for you over by the piano." She waved across the ballroom to signal his attention.
Draco abruptly grabbed his mother's arm, gently holding it down. "Yes, Mother. I see him," he said curtly. "And I will gladly make my way over once I've accomplished my gentlemanly duties of acquiring a cocktail for my beautiful companion."
His resolute assertion left no room for debate as he turned away, leading Hermione by the hand to a concealed opening just beyond a marble pillar.
Hermione stared up at him with admonition. "Don't even think about leaving me alone with that scheming scoundrel!" she whisper-shouted as subdued as humanly possible so as not to draw attention. "We made a deal not to get separated again."
"I'm aware we made a deal. But things obviously have changed now that my father appears to be on to us." He anxiously raked his hand through his hair, eyes darting between hers and the table just beyond the pillar where his father remained standing. "I need you to utilize this time with him to leave no doubt that not only are we a couple, but I'm still gainfully employed as the Ministry's Quidditch liaison." He looked imploringly at her restive stare, hoping she would see reason.
"And what exactly will you be doing while I'm off doing all the heavy lifting?" she asked, angling her chin in defiance.
He lowered his head in humble supplication, leaning forward a fraction of an inch and looking up at her through fallen fringe. "Are you really going to make me say it?" he asked with something akin to desperation. He leaned in even further, voice low at the shell of her ear. "I am more than aware that I owe you immensely for this evening. Please don't make me beg."
An unexpected swooping sensation erupted in her stomach at his beguiling words causing her to momentarily forget the source of her current discontent. Her muddled thoughts only grew more convoluted when the woodsy aroma of Draco's cologne crept unbidden through her nostrils and landed somewhere on her tongue. She stood rooted to the spot imploring her mind to concentrate solely on remembering to breathe and not on the alluring shape of her coworker's adam's apple.
Hearing no response, he leaned back, eyes narrowing when they caught her disoriented stare. "Is everything alright? You look as if you've seen a ghost."
She shook her head, eyelashes fluttering in bewilderment before feebly clearing her throat. "Yes. Of course. I-"
"Shite. Mr. DuBois is headed our way. Here, take this and join my father." He plucked two champagne flutes from the nearest tray and thrust one into her hand. "I swear to you, I will make this as quick as possible." With several guests' eyes now drawn to the spectacle, Draco leaned over brushing his lips briefly against her cheek. "Remember what I said. I owe you," he added hastily before turning and making his way to the outer edge of the dance floor to greet the head of the French consulate.
Hermione's chest swelled as she fought to shake off her confounding reaction to her colleague, immediately casting blame on Ginny for all her mindless chatter about how appetizing Draco Malfoy appeared.
She rolled her eyes, inhaling and exhaling a mind-cleansing breath.
The power of suggestion was clearly at play. That and...she looked down at her champagne flute...noting too that perhaps she ought to refrain from any additional libations for the remainder of the evening.
Operable plan firmly in place, she squared her shoulders and set off to tackle the vexing nuisance of Lucius Malfoy.
He watched with scrutiny as she rounded the corner and into view. Despite his unwavering gaze, she remained unflappable, returning his glare with equal fervor.
"I'm ready for the chateau tour," she declared, raising her chin expectantly as she came to a halt at his side.
He tutted dismissively. "Not so fast, Miss Granger. I'd first like to have a word with you about your purpose here with my son. Walk with me," he ordered, shifting to guide the way with his outstretched hand.
She set down her glass and stiffly turned to accompany him. "I can save you the trouble. Your wife already beat you to it, I'm afraid."
He let out a mirthless laugh, nodding genially to several passing guests while they commenced their leisurely stroll toward the terrace. "My wife has somehow fallen under the delusion that you and Draco are hopelessly smitten with one other. I, however, am not so easily fooled." He paused, raking his unfriendly eyes over every inch of her schooled features before adding with a coldness that swept a chill across her skin, "There's no one alive who would believe a lauded war heroine would deign to ensnare herself with my worthless son. So before we go any further, do drop the pathetic lovesick act and tell me what is the meaning of all this." His face reddened as he fought to regain his composure.
A vicious defensiveness welled up in her chest at the elder wizard's cruel disdain.
"First of all, your utter lack of regard for your son is not only appalling, it's repugnant," she hissed, brows furrowing with scorn. "And secondly, -"
Her increasingly-elevated voice caught the unwanted attention of a few passersby, causing Lucius to firmly grab her by the elbow and lead her with a forced calmness out onto the terrace.
"Now you listen here," he began with an almost threatening growl. "It was exceedingly difficult to find a respectable family that would be willing to overlook our past indiscretions. I will not have you waltzing in here and mucking it up!"
Hermione clenched her fists, yanking her elbow from his clutches.
"The only one mucking anything up here is you!" She rose up to meet his icy glare. "I'll have you know, your son is the single most intelligent wizard I have ever had the good fortune of knowing. Not to mention, he somehow has managed to reject the vile brainwashing of his pathetic upbringing- most all of which you bear the responsibility for! He's hard-working, considerate, well-spoken, witty, and most importantly- loyal to a fault. He's all the things you aren't and never will be! How dare you call him worthless!" she snarled, pausing only for a moment to take a breath. "Perhaps it would do you well to take a long, hard look in the mirror- only then might you discover the true meaning of what it looks like to be worthless!"
By the time the seemingly endless chain of words had escaped her mouth, her heart was pounding wildly in her chest, all thoughts of propriety evaporating along with it.
If the abject look of offense on Lucius' face was anything to go by, she succeeded in knocking him back into place.
His upper lip curled over his teeth as he glared down at her with strained composure he scarcely possessed. "You have known my son for all of five minutes. I hardly think you are suited to opine about his character. So, what is it you're after? Is it money? Because I will gladly fill your coffers if it means you will walk away from this pitiful charade."
"What?" she asked, eyebrows raised in astonishment at the audacious accusation. "You think I'm after your money?" A humorless laugh escaped her throat.
"Why else would you so willingly attach yourself to Draco when the only purpose he could possibly serve is to drag you down with the other dregs of society?"
She shook her head in pained disgust. "Surely you don't actually believe that."
"I don't know what to believe, Miss Granger. Because you've yet to tell me what it is you're doing here with my son."
Hermione inclined her head, carefully appraising the disgraceful wizard while anguish festered in her chest.
"I'm here with your son because I happen to enjoy his company. You'd be able to see that if you possessed the capacity to look beyond your shameful disregard for the very person which you feign to care about. Why is it so hard for you to accept that your son is an extraordinary wizard who deserves to be happy?"
Lucius snorted inelegantly. "And I suppose you think you're the one who makes him happy?"
"Whether I am or not is for him to decide. Or do you plan on taking that choice from him as well?"
"How dare you-" he spluttered, just as a terse knock rang out from the doorframe of the terrace.
"Is this where the chateau tour-" Draco managed before reading the tension and making his way over to where they stood, artfully concealing his stiff apprehension.
She reached out and laced their fingers together, eyes narrowing challengingly at Lucius. "I was just telling your father how happy we make each other."
The patriarch's expression fell slack before he finally managed a tight smile and muttered, "Indeed you were."
He gruffly adjusted the lapel of his tuxedo, grimacing in distaste at his son.
"I will leave you two lovebirds alone to enjoy the rest of your evening," he said, abruptly turning to saunter across the terrace and out of sight.
Draco immediately shifted toward her, an anxious frown furrowing his brow. "What in the bloody hell was that about?"
Hermione's shoulders slackened as her eyes cast down toward the cobblestone floor. "It was nothing. I just did what you'd asked me to do- you know, convince him we're a couple and all."
Draco placed his finger under her chin, gently lifting it to face him. "You don't actually expect me to believe that, do you?"
He searched her heavily-guarded eyes for any hint of the truth.
She shrugged, looking anywhere but at him. "He was slightly more opposed to the idea of us than I'd expected is all."
The lie did nothing to assuage the dull ache in her chest, but perhaps it could save him from his own anguish.
She finally looked up at him with a lopsided grin. "Don't worry, I didn't go off script if that's what you're wondering."
"You truly are an atrocious liar," he chided, returning her deceptive smile with a placating smirk. "But as much as I'd like to stand here and batter the truth out of you, the music is starting and I'd love nothing more than to move our evening along so we can get the hell out of here." He proffered out his arm for her to take. "Will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the dance floor, Miss Granger?" he asked, inclining his head toward the ballroom.
She inspected her fingernails in feigned disinterest before finally inching forward and extending her hand. "I am rather busy at the current moment, but I suppose I could manage one dance."
He rolled his eyes, pulling her hand through the bend in his arm and tucking it securely into his side as they padded toward the walkway. "I'm humbled you'd even consider squeezing me into your exceedingly busy schedule. I mean, isn't it nearing feeding time for that mangy half-kneazle of yours?"
She nudged him in the side with the hard edge of her elbow. "You should consider yourself lucky he's not here because if forced to choose between the two of you, he and I'd be dancing the tango right now."
He laughed, looking around as they turned the corner into the ballroom. "Now that is something I may very well pay to see."
The lights had dimmed considerably, marking a notable shift in mood among the guests. The buoyant chatter from earlier was replaced by the melodic undertones coming from the grand piano.
Hermione noted the dance floor gradually filling with ardent couples swaying back and forth to the music.
When she'd accepted Draco's offering to dance, she had admittedly pictured something a fair bit more lively in her head. But as they approached the dance floor, it was painfully clear she had quite glaringly misjudged the circumstances.
Her pulse began to quicken, remembering the last time she was forced into close proximity with the wizard currently at her side.
Her instinct told her to Apparate on the spot...to fake a sudden illness...or at the very least to will Crookshanks to send an urgent Patronus. But before she could decide which option offered her the most viable exit strategy, Draco's hand was on the small of her back leading her toward the center of the dance floor.
Her breath caught in her throat when he reached around to pull her against him, one hand resting firmly on her waist, the other gently grasping her hand.
He leaned forward, his cheek nearly brushing against hers. "So, have you yet to decide how you'd like to be repaid for all the heavy lifting you've had to do this evening?"
She let out a nervous laugh as they began to sway in time to the music. "There's no repayment necessary. Really. I quite enjoyed putting your father in his place after all these years."
"Is that so?" Draco's gravelly chuckle reverberated in her chest. "That must have been quite a conversation- my father looked like he may very well have been on the verge of a medical event. What exactly did you say to him?"
"Nothing that wasn't entirely accurate." She hummed in bemusement recalling the heated exchange. "I tend to get a bit passionate when defending a good cause."
Draco leaned back, looking at her with a raised brow. "A good cause? Merlin, have I become one of Hermione Granger's charity projects?" He shook his head. "Shite, how could I not have seen this coming."
Her shoulders shook with mirth as she dipped her head to his chest trying to stifle her laughter. "You are not one of my charity projects," she finally managed, looking up at him through darkened lashes. "I've already told you- I take all of my fake relationships very seriously. If I manage to wrestle you from your arranged marriage, just imagine the effect it will have on my already-lucrative business."
His wry smirk widened. "Well then, do remind me to write a favorable review for you in the Daily Prophet when we return. It certainly wouldn't be fair for me to withhold your wild success from others who are in desperate need of your services." The thought, although tongue-in-cheek, created a rather unpleasant twisting in the pit of his stomach.
"Speaking of the Prophet, I'm surprised I don't see Rita Skeeter lurking around your parents' charity function...trying to sniff out the next big European melodrama."
Draco snorted, turning to get a better view of the back of the ballroom where his parents stood talking to the Parkinson matriarch. Long-time friends of his family's, Draco was always on heightened alert for a covert attempt to match him with their daughter, Pansy. While he had remained close with his former classmate throughout the years, she was certainly not a viable candidate for marriage as far as he was concerned. "My parents would never willingly invite her into their social orbit. She's nothing more than a miserable pariah to all that have ever had the misfortune of making her headlines."
Hermione nodded, glancing around the ballroom at the considerable assortment of guests dotting the expansive space. "Do you know most of the people here tonight?"
He mindlessly brought their conjoined hands in toward his chest. "I recognize a few. But, mostly they are associates of my parents- French dignitaries and the like. A couple of them are members of my father's gardening club."
Hermione released a rather loud peal of laughter, her head tilting back with the raucous sound. "Gardening Club?" she choked out. "You mean to tell me your father meets with others to discuss the latest methods of pruning his potted plants?"
Draco smiled down at her, thoroughly enjoying her unbridled amusement of this heavily-guarded secret. "As I've yet to have the opportunity to attend one of their meetings, I can't answer as to what is discussed there- but I imagine that's the gist of it, yes."
Hermione found herself not for the first time, burying her head in laughter against Draco's chest as they swayed back and forth with the melody. The sweet smell of bergamot once again permeated the air giving way to a sudden feeling of euphoria that mixed favorably with the rather entertaining conversation. She looked up, eyes glinting. "I find that incredibly hard to believe, but far be it for me to judge."
Just then the music ended, leaving an unwelcome absence of sound that left them both suddenly draped in a cloak of awkward silence.
Draco hesitated as he stepped back, searching her now unreadable expression.
After a length of several discomfiting heartbeats, the stirring of couples surrounding them could be seen from their peripheral, as the pianist recommenced the next piece.
When the first several notes rolled in pleasant waves off the piano, Hermione sighed in unadulterated delight. "Oh, I absolutely adore this song." Her eyes fluttered closed as she breathed in deeply. "Ludovico Einaudi. He was one of my father's favorite composers."
She glanced up at the ceiling, eyes beaming as she drank in the charmed night sky. "We would spend our summers listening to him under our gazebo as my father tended to whatever project needed to be done at the time. He mostly fixed odds and ends around the house," she clarified. "But what I remember most is how he would become so lost in the music that he'd not even hear my mother when she called us inside for dinner."
She grinned at the mildly amusing recollection.
When her eyes traveled back down to their current surroundings, her smile faded.
She shook her head blithely when she glimpsed Draco standing there surveying her with an indefinable look on his face.
"Sorry, I got lost there for just a moment."
"No need to be sorry," he said, reaching out to grab her hand. "I love this song, as well. Nuvolo Bianche," he pronounced in a perfect Italian accent. "I don't suppose you can make space in your ever-busy schedule this evening to grant me one more dance," he asked, pulling her back against him while he pretended to await her answer. "You know, because it would be a crime to allow one of our favorite songs to pass without showing it the consideration it deserves."
"Two dances?" Her mouth curved into a scandalized smile. "What will my other fake boyfriends think when they learn I made an exception to my one-dance rule for you?"
He dropped his head down to her ear while pulling her a fraction of an inch closer. "Don't tell them," he said, barely above a whisper.
They swayed back and forth in contented silence, Hermione's thoughts drifting to the previous hours' events.
For the casual observer, the dating ruse seemed like an overwhelming success. At the very least, Narcissa certainly appeared to be all but won over by the notion of the two of them courting. And although Lucius vehemently challenged the validity of their story, he was quickly set to rights by her angry diatribe, leaving no doubt they were indeed a couple.
But for Hermione, the echo of his cruel words festered in her mind like a swarm of angry wasps, sharp and distressing in their wont to inflict damage. She failed to understand how the rather charming wizard in her arms emerged from a world in which a father's cold callousness prevailed.
As the dulcet chords of each piano key resounded throughout the ballroom, her weary heart broke for him.
Feeling her stiffen in his arms, he straightened his posture, pausing to search her face. "Is everything ok?" he asked, his body suddenly going rigid.
Her shimmering eyes revealed nothing of her inner turmoil, as she forced a tight smile. "Of course," she replied, peering up at him with conviction. "I was merely thinking about how entirely credible we've been as a couple. Do you think it's been enough to convince your parents to walk away from the contract negotiations?" She slackened in his arms at her smooth recovery.
A sudden stirring out of the corner of his eye caught his attention compelling him to lean forward. "Looks like we're about to have some company," he whispered with a forced calm. "Don't look up. My parents are on their way over here right now."
Her heart began to hammer in her chest at the urgency in his voice.
"Gods, Granger- whatever you do, please don't hex me for this." She barely had time to process his words before she felt the warmth of his lips brushing against hers.
Her eyes fought to blow wide-open as she desperately willed them to flutter closed. If his parents were indeed watching, it would be catastrophic to their cause to appear like she'd not done this a thousand times before.
Her overactive brain immediately decided it best to focus on the otherwise simple task of breathing, only she very quickly discovered she'd forgotten how as Draco's hand snaked up the back of her neck.
Heat pooled in her stomach as she gripped his waist to steady herself, her labored breath intermingling with his when lips as soft as velvet pressed more firmly against hers.
For a moment she forgot where she was, burdened by the feel of his body setting fire to hers.
She felt a cautious hand drift up her torso and land with trepidation on her cheek, fingers gliding along the line of her jaw as he tipped her chin up with practiced ease. What began as warm, gentle pressure grew more insistent as he scraped his teeth against her bottom lip.
Without warning, the tip of his silky tongue dragged agonizingly slow across the length of her upper lip causing her to elicit a breathless whimper.
She'd kissed her fair share of wizards in her day- well, two to be exact, but that was only if she considered Ron's awkward fumbling a kiss. Victor proved to be only slightly more adept, but this- this was a fantasy she'd long-since banished from her mind for the sole reason of it being disturbingly unrealistic.
She knew it was glaringly imprudent to indulge herself in the delusion that this kiss was anything but for show, but at the moment she couldn't muster the capacity to care. She leaned into him more fully, kissing him back with equal fervor, her enthusiastic response unexpectedly prompting a low growl to escape his throat.
Just as she was blindly slipping into this euphoric coma of which she hoped she'd never emerge, an emphatic throat-clearing rang out from somewhere off to their side causing her eyes to snap open, ruthlessly returning her to the present space and time.
Her cheeks flushed as she fought to catch her breath, blurred vision steadily coming back into focus.
She felt Draco's chest rise and fall as he stepped back, eyes meeting hers for the first time since their unanticipated entanglement.
"Decided to upgrade from the cloak closet?" Lucius asked, not a measure of humor coating his words.
Narcissa nudged him with her arm as she gracefully glided over to take her place across from him on the dance floor. "Hush now, Lucius! You haven't forgotten what it was like to not be able to keep your hands off one another, have you?" Her mischievous voice rang through the air as she draped her arms around his neck.
She smiled conspiratorially over to where the pair stood as Hermione looked on, waging an internal war about what precisely had just occurred.
It was just a kiss, she told herself as the world continued to spin around her. An impulsive, poorly thought-through collision of sorts, orchestrated by a wizard desperate to sever a forever-binding marriage contract. It was entirely necessary, she supposed, if she really thought about it- for him to demonstrate to his parents that he without question planned to chart his own matrimonial course.
And it certainly meant nothing to either of them on any personal level. Well, apart from the fact that they had surprisingly electric chemistry. But she was sure she'd find that same shiver-inducing magnetism in any unspecified random sampling of wizards. She just up unto that point had yet to experience it, but she was sure it was quite common.
When she looked back at Draco, his eyes remained ignited and glazed over with something settling behind his pupils that she couldn't quite place. Whatever it was caused her breathing to labor, much to her annoyance.
"We were just about to head out to get a breath of fresh air," he managed, feverish eyes never leaving hers.
Something about the way he said it encouraged her to concur. It seemed at the moment to be the most viable route to escaping this exceedingly inconvenient encounter, so she seized it. "Yes," she stuttered, nervously sweeping a curl from her face. "I'd asked Draco to please show me the lights from the marina since I've yet to have the opportunity to see them properly this time of night."
Narcissa hummed as she and Lucius swayed back and forth to the music. "I think that's a splendid idea, dear. Do take your time," she sighed absently.
Hermione took the matriarch's preoccupation to signal the ideal opportunity to depart unimpeded. She grabbed Draco roughly by the hand and hurriedly led him toward the terrace, dodging scores of other couples along the way. As she crossed the threshold, she dazedly dropped his hand and practically tumbled over to the balcony's edge, inhaling deeply. The crisp night air felt like salvation as it filled her lungs with its much-needed sustenance, each molecule easing the tension brought forth by what had just occurred.
Narcissa was right- the lights of the marina's glittering shoreline took on a whole new ambiance under the thick blanket of darkness. She could make out what seemed like hundreds of ships, barges, and yachts lining the coast, delicately framed by the star-like glinting of what she imagined were strings of lanterns. The waxing moon reflected in ripples off the surface of the bay, further illuminating the bobbing schooners in the harbor. She was so caught up in her admiration of the striking display that she didn't notice Malfoy sidling up behind her until she felt the warmth of his body radiating against her back.
"Before you say anything, I want you to know I'm sorry." He sighed with marked trepidation, shifting unsteadily on his feet.
Her breath felt heavy in her lungs.
She inhaled painstakingly slow to settle her fractured nerves, then once again, before turning to face him. "No apology necessary," she muttered, apprehensive eyes finally meeting his. "I suppose if I had given it some measure of thought, I could have concluded that at some point that may have been necessary." Her eyes trailed away to peer off into the distance.
He reached out to cup her cheek, turning her back to face him. "Look. Kissing you was never my plan. I would never want to do anything that would make you feel uncomfortable. It's just...I saw my father coming over...with a look...and not just any look. One I've seen a thousand times before. One riddled with suspicion, doubt, skepticism- and I panicked. I literally saw my life flash before my eyes...one that had me chained to that irritating little French tart my father plans to have me marry. And I snapp-"
"It's fine," she said, looking down at the hand that had gracelessly fallen from her cheek before peering back up with a forlorn uneasiness. "I can forget it even happened if you can."
Her unrehearsed, and not to mention outrageously false assertion, was so enormously farcical for no other reason than the mere fact that even as she stood there, she could feel the ghost of his lips pressed against hers and she was ever certain that even a well-placed Obliviate would be unsuccessful in erasing the kiss from her memory.
His eyes traveled from hers down to her lips for a fraction of a second before he anxiously looked away. "You want to forget it even happened then?" he asked, more to himself than to elicit any response. He paced tensely over toward the balcony's edge.
She turned to follow him. "I mean, you said so yourself that it was a panicked compulsion. And I think we both recognize that strictly speaking, it was probably necessary at the time to convince your father...so, there'd be no reason I could think of to continue to dwell on it."
He hummed curtly in agreement, mindlessly leaning against the banister and looking out across the water at the horizon.
Silence hung thickly in the air between them for an uncomfortably long measure of time before Draco finally cut in. "I don't remember that lighthouse being there before, do you?" he asked, pointing off into the distance.
"Where?" she said, stepping forward to follow his line of sight.
"Right there." He gestured with his hand. "Just beyond that barge."
Hermione had to squint to allow the object to come more clearly into focus. "I don't think that's a lighthouse. It appears to be moving." She narrowed her eyes even further. "In fact, I think that's a stag. Malfoy, that's Harry's Patronus." Her voice betrayed a hint of panic.
The words were barely out of her mouth before the dazzling silver creature came careening into view, stopping mid-air in front of them. The disembodied voice of Harry rang out from its corporeal form. "Malfoy. Hermione. If you're still out of the country, you need to come back. I just received word that the two you-know-whats left the you-know-where and are headed for the land of pyramids."
Draco snorted derisively, rolling his eyes. "Ever the subtle imbecile."
"Don't roll your eyes, Malfoy," the Patronus continued, causing Draco to smirk at Potthead's surprisingly-accurate conjecture. "We can't afford for anyone to riddle out our communication."
He rolled his eyes again. "Because you've managed to conceal it so well."
"The sooner you get home, the better. And Hermione...I'm sorry about Ginny. She threatened me with a bat-bogey hex."
The corners of her mouth curved up in a grin as the stag turned tail and galloped away.
She peered up at Malfoy, sighing. "Well, I suppose it's as good a time as any to gather up our belongings and head back. Has your father said anything about the book?"
"He assured me he'd put it in the upstairs bedroom," he said skeptically.
"Well, I guess I will head there now. I'll collect my things and will meet you in the courtyard." She endeavored to step away but he placed his arm out to catch her.
"Before you go running off, I want you to know that I am truly sorry for the way tonight turned out. I regret immensely what happened earlier and I assure you, I will never again put you in that position." She felt a nettlesome pang in her chest at his conciliatory words.
"Right," she managed, barely above a hoarse whisper. "If that's all...I'm going to go-"
"Wait," he said, allowing for a glimmer of hope to rise in her again, although she wasn't entirely sure what she was hoping for. Perhaps a retraction of the word regret or maybe an off-handed acknowledgment that she wasn't the only one to feel the fire that had so zealously blazed between them. Or possibly-
"I think we should walk back in there together so as not to raise suspicion."
Possibly...not that.
Her shoulders sagged as she politely nodded her head. "Yes, you're probably right. I can see where keeping up appearances would be important."
He held out his arm for her and she took it easily, donning a cheerful mask of merriment for the fictitious display of adoration that awaited her just beyond the threshold.
