Chapter 21
August 19, 2019
“Hi mother,” Draco greeted, his idle foot tapping on the floor of his car.
“Hi darling, is Hermione there too?” she asked.
“Hi Narcissa,” Hermione smiled, as though the woman could see the expression through the phone.
“How was your trip?” she asked, poorly hidden distaste for their choice of destination in her tone.
“Amazing,” Hermione replied honestly, looking down at her lap before making eye contact with Draco.
“Oh?” Narcissa asked as though she were vaguely shocked that a trip to the beach could be considered such. “Why’s that?”
“It’s the beach,” Hermione shrugged, shocked she even had to defend her opinion. “What’s not to like?”
“Is that right, Draco?” the woman asked.
“It was incredible,” he agreed with a smile, biting his lip like he was about to spill everything he’d demanded Hermione keep secret. “We had the best weekend.”
Their cover was definitely blown, and it’d taken a record one minute and fifteen seconds of conversation.
“Draco?” Narcissa questioned, suspicion in her tone.
“Yes?” he asked, voice wobbly as he winced.
“Did you…”
His sigh was enough to have his mother squealing and Hermione ready to murder him.
“I’m so,” the woman choked up. “Angry! Draco, we had a plan! I wasn’t there… it wasn’t the proper time. Lucius! LUCIUS!”
There was no other option. Hermione stabbed blindly at the car’s touchscreen, letting out a breath of relief when Narcissa’s yelling was quieted as the call ended. Only the crunching of his tires on the highway sounded in her ears.
“Did you hang up on her?” he asked, mouth gaping in a way that had her contemplating slapping him.
“You had one job!” Hermione scolded, narrowing her eyes at the man. “One job!”
“I said nothing, Hermione!”
“You didn’t need to say anything, you insinuated. And you thought I was going to screw this up,” Hermione scoffed, swiping her phone open to text Pansy back. “You can’t tell Pansy, Hermione, my whole team will know the first day we are back.”
The car swerved suddenly at her rapid texting and horrible imitation of Draco.
“Who are you telling?”
“No one, because I’m not an idiot!”
“Really?”
Hermione deflated… a bit.
“You had one job,” she repeated sullenly, angrier than she’d ever been with the man.
His phone started ringing again, the name LUCIUS blaring across the car’s console.
“Just get it over with,” Hermione flicked a hand towards the screen, bending in half and groaning into her legs.
“Hi, father,” Draco answered, pulling off the highway and into a Mcdonald’s parking lot right off the exit. It took every ounce of Hermione’s love for Draco to stay in the car instead of hopping out and grabbing fries and the largest m&m McFlurry they sold.
“You have the audacity to hang up on your mother after ignoring my calls for days?” the senator asked, voice icy.
Draco gave Hermione a long look before replying. “I apologize, father, we’re driving and a police car whizzed by. Just trying to drive safely.”
The man hummed, the noise unpleasant and unbelieving even through the car speakers. “Are you engaged, son?”
This was it. Not even a week of joy.
“Yes, father. We’re engaged.”
Not even the teenager slinging fries inside the building before them could miss Narcissa’s ear-piercing squeal.
Let the show begin, Hermione thought.
xxx
August 20, 2019
It was hard to believe that she’d once found the idea of being enveloped in Draco’s life to be an enticing one. Hermione, along with most Americans, had thought that to know the Malfoys would be to love them, to be impressed by them.
The childish couple across the table inspired none of those feelings in her. She was close to bursting as she pursed her lips, the act of physically pushing the plush skin together the only thing that kept her from popping off at the people in front of her. Was she really resigning herself to a lifetime of this?
Sighing audibly, Hermione tuned back into the conversation.
“I think you’re focusing on the wrong thing,” Narcissa accused for at least the fifth time, with a glare at a vicious-looking Severus Snape. Why the man was here, Hermione had no idea.
“In what world is a video of Draco shutting down a man who epitomizes the base of the Republican Party the wrong thing, Narcissa?” the man roared audaciously.
“Hey!”
“Watch your mouth, boy.”
Draco and Lucius growled at the same time, sounding eerily similar in their venom.
“I truly don’t understand what this fuss is about,” Narcissa said, speaking for Hermione even though she didn’t know it.
Lucius let out a noisy breath before speaking, “I may be running for president, but I am still North Carolina’s senior senator. And your son is a Member of Congress; petty fighting with rednecks is completely out of line! He was raised better than this.”
“Really?” Draco asked with an eyebrow raised to the sky. “I don’t need you scrutinizing every single decision I make and pretending it’s because it’ll impact me. You’re worried about your own race.”
Woof. Hermione was shocked to see Draco firing shots at his father.
“It was a blunder, Draco; one that could be costlier than you think,” Snape cut in as though he had any right to be a part of the conversation.
“A small blunder is far less of a misstep than a spur-of-the-moment engagement!” the normally put-together Malfoy woman seethed, smacking a well-manicured hand down on the wooden table. “The people want love, and Draco just took it away from them!”
Hermione sunk down in her seat a bit, not wanting anything to do with the angry woman. Draco gave her an amused glance that was completely inappropriate given the fact that they were in the middle of an emergency meeting at Lucius’ request.
In Hermione’s estimation, she shouldn’t have even needed to be here. Snape and Lucius made it clear that their voices were the most important in the room, talking over everyone, including Narcissa. They were supposed to have been at dinner with Luna and Blaise, anyways. What was supposed to have been a joyous reunion with her friend was going to be marred by what occurred before it, as much as she wanted to enjoy her rare time with Luna.
It was the one thing that they’d agreed on - they needed to get through their conversation with Draco’s parents before they could possibly think of sharing with their friends and staff.
“My darling, I think you may be taking this a bit too far,” Lucius crooned with what he clearly thought was a kind look, earning the nastiest look that Hermione’d ever seen from his normally stoic wife.
“You’re wrong, Lucius,” the woman shook her head. “A fall engagement and spring wedding in the middle of primary season would’ve either saved your campaign in a primary or boosted general election debate viewership. It’s what you will need, wherever we find ourselves next spring. Romance is something that everyone can get behind.”
Was that true, though? Hermione couldn’t care less about the fact that a candidate’s family was doing this or that, let alone imagine voting for someone simply because his son got married to a nobody a week before an election.
She was smart enough not to say anything, though. She’d leave that to Draco, Lucius and Severus. Brax was smart enough to make an excuse not to be there; he’d sent Hermione a text that was rampant with prayer-hands emojis, saying that he’d be over at Draco’s for breakfast tomorrow once the dust had settled. The man was a coward, but Hermione couldn’t blame him. Not when what was supposed to be a quick trip down to North Carolina following her early birthday trip to the beach was spoiled by Lucius’ ego.
She would say she didn’t sign up for this, but… she did. And she had the shiny ring to prove it. Only, she didn’t have the ring right now because their plan had been to surprise their loved ones at a family dinner - Black side of the family not included for obvious reasons - something that Draco ruined with uncharacteristic word vomit. What had been exciting an hour prior now felt like a heavy burden.
“Respectfully,” Draco started in a tone that belied nothing of respect. “I think you’re worrying over nothing.”
“That’s not for you to decide, is it?” Snape asked, condescension dripping in his tone. How much older than Draco was he, anyways?
Hermione looked at Draco meaningfully, hoping that he was able to read her mind in the moment. She tapped her ring finger on the Malfoy’s dining room table insistently, getting a resigned nod from her now-fiance.
“We can do a public engagement,” Hermione piped up for the first time in the conversation.
Narcissa did a little happy wiggle in her chair at that, a victorious smile on her face. It was more clear than ever at that moment that Draco’s happiness was not his mother’s top priority, no matter what she said.
“Thank you for understanding, darling,” Narcissa responded in what she clearly thought was a grateful tone.
“Can we go now? Blaise and Luna are waiting,” Draco replied impatiently, starting to stand up. A double date at Luna’s rare insistence was the reason Hermione took a 24 hour flight to North Carolina, after all.
“Sit,” Lucius ordered through gritted teeth. His well-conditioned son did exactly that. Coward.
“You’re not leaving until you tell us what the hell happened. I knew that dirty tourist trap was dangerous, but I thought the worst that could happen was a mugging, not a dip in my campaign numbers!”
“Stop being so dramatic, Luc!” Narcissa admonished before turning her icy eyes on her son. “Now everyone, shut your mouths while Draco tells us what has gotten into him.”
There was no way to hide her annoyance at this point. Hermione sighed and buckled in for Draco’s retelling of what had been the best vacation she’d ever been on. It figured that Lucius Malfoy would find a way to completely and utterly ruin that.
xxx
Five days before
“Stop laughing!” Draco scowled, cheeks bright pink with embarrassment.
Unable to stop laughing, Hermione just patted his forearm in a move that couldn’t be seen as anything but patronizing. She relished being the one who was in-the-know for once.
“I mean, you looked around this hotel and thought that continental breakfast meant that there would be a sampling from global cuisines?” Hermione couldn’t help the way she continued to laugh, not even when Draco knocked his head against hers in admonishment.
“Just be quiet,” Draco sighed.
The ping of the elevator stopping on the sixth floor of the Ocean City, Maryland Hyatt Place was Draco’s saving grace. Hermione waved and said hello to the cleaning staff who were tugging heavy carts throughout the hallway, their presence distracting her from rubbing salt in the wound just one more time.
Draco had pursed lips as he opened the door to room 611, while Hermione eagerly shouldered past him and their luggage cart to see what exactly an oceanview room with a balcony looked like.
The room was as nice as she expected for the only luxury(ish) hotels on a notoriously trashy boardwalk strip. There was a king bed, there was a couch and there was a mini fridge, the only things they needed for a trip where they’d spend more time out of their room than in it.
The real draw was the beachfront balcony, and she was mindful to shut the sliding door behind herself as she stepped onto the concrete slab that overlooked the sparkling blue water. The chattering of seagulls and crashing of waves immediately filled her ears, and it was impossible not to smile as the humid sea air clung to her. There were families posing for photos on the wooden boardwalk and just beyond them, countless people lying under colorful umbrellas and splashing in the ocean water. It was perfect.
She plopped herself down into one of the two plastic beach chairs the hotel provided each oceanview room, content to watch children sob as their slice of pizza dropped onto the gritty wood of the boardwalk and laugh alongside the family who was attempting to play an awful game of volleyball on a wide expanse of sand.
“What’s that look?” Draco asked suddenly from behind her. Hermione jumped, knocking her knee on the plastic balcony railing that she’d edged closer and closer to. She hadn’t even heard the door slide open, immersed as she was in the people watching that a Thursday in the dog days of summer brought.
“I’m just happy,” she shrugged, slightly self conscious. This was the lap of luxury for her, but likely the worst hotel that Draco had ever stayed in. The man hadn’t known what continental breakfast was, for God’s sake.
“That’s what this trip is all about, sweetheart. Should we get ready for the beach?”
She nodded, patting Draco on the hand as she slid by him back into the AC-cooled room. Maybe he’d be just as awed by the ocean-view room as she was… stranger things had happened.
xx
“Your nose is going to peel,” Hermione smiled, pressing a condensation-soaked finger to the warm, pink skin to prove her point.
“Isn’t that what aloe is supposed to protect against?” Draco asked, taking a sip of his beer with a quirked brow.
“The aloe soothes your skin and guards against peeling, but it doesn’t guarantee it.”
He groaned, “A multi-colored face is exactly what I need before next week’s dinner.”
Hermione laughed through the sip of her frozen mango daiquiri, “Good thing the color for heart disease is red, right?”
“Red face, red tie,” Draco chuckled a bit.
Their waitress walked up before Hermione could reply, the scent of seafood wafting off of the two plates in her hands. “Alrighty, here are your crabby fries and coconut shrimp. Need anything else?”
“Think we’re good for now, ma'am, thank you,” Draco smiled.
The young woman walked away with a light blush on her cheeks. Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing exactly the effect that Draco had on everyone he turned even a smidge of his southern charm onto.
“You’re such a schmooze,” Hermione rolled her eyes, knocking his hand out of the way to grab a cheese and crab covered fry. Draco had asked for the Old Bay on the side, so Hermione dipped the cheesy vessel right into the spice-filled plastic cup. “Oh, it’s so good.”
“Real glad to hear that, sweetheart.” Draco took a bite of coconut shrimp off of a fork.
“You know you’re supposed to eat that with your hands, right?” she asked. He was so dainty sometimes.
“What’s it matter?”
“Draco, we’re at a place called Brass Balls Saloon on the Ocean City boardwalk. You could be a little more relaxed.”
“This is as relaxed as it gets. I’m in shorts and a polo, what more do you want? Flip flops? Zip-off cargo pants?” he shuddered while making the asks, a gesture that looked far too visceral to be dramatized.
“You’re too much,” she sighed, holding an old bay covered fry to his lips. “Just try it, you’ll love it.”
“Fries aren’t meant to be desecrated with crabs and cheese.” he took a bite anyway. “It’s good.”
“Of course it’s good!”
Their waitress popped back over a few minutes later to take their entree order down, and an old man with a scraggly beard came up right after.
Could they have a moment of peace?
“You the Malfoy boy, aren’t you?” he asked, and Hermione tried not to look at his sweat-soaked tank top. The stench of cigarettes and sweat coming off of him was enough to paint a picture of who this man was and what he was about, though.
“I am,” Draco replied with a guarded smile, clearly uncertain of what the man wanted and annoyed at being called a boy. It was a bit of a crapshoot anywhere outside of North Carolina, but based on all of the pro-gun and pro-America shirts they’d seen people wearing, he was likely a fan.
“Thought so,” the man nodded, hand in his jean shorts pocket. “Glad you and your old man are up there in Washington, but hell, even a few good ones don’t weigh things out with all them libtards.”
Hermione took a long sip of her drink now that she knew where the conversation was going, brainfreeze be damned.
Instead of interjecting, Draco just looked at the man, who was clearly winding up for a rant. Taking a moment to look around, Hermione noticed a woman with a blonde bob staring at them and assumed it was the man’s wife.
“They’re killing our babies and indoctrinating our kids in schools, man, and it’s only getting worse. We just moved to Virginia Beach, and the bitch who represents us in Congress is toxic. Just toxic. I call her office every day asking to talk to her, you know what her people say? She doesn’t take meetings with individuals, only groups. Can you believe that? They hang up on me when I ask them if they know they’re working for a baby murderer. If I could only get five minutes with that bi-.”
“Sir,” Draco finally cut in, and Hermione was incensed it took that long. Was ‘bitch’ really the line he was drawing? “I appreciate you coming to introduce yourself, but I’m just trying to enjoy my time on vacation. I hope you understand that and have a nice trip yourself.”
The man looked a bit confused, like he didn’t quite understand why Draco wouldn’t want to have an in-depth conversation about how he wanted to murder one of the other man’s colleagues. But after a moment, much to Hermione’s relief, he nodded.
“Of course, beautiful young gal you got there. You enjoy your trip, now.”
Draco just nodded sharply, looking down at the paper dinner menu once more.
“They’re sitting on the opposite side of the deck,” Hermione said quietly, eyes flicking to the other side of the waterfront deck the restaurant boasted.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Draco frowned, standing up and moving to sit next to her on the other side of the bench. He gripped her hand in his own, running an apologetic thumb across her knuckles.
“Not your fault,” she replied, a little more shakily than she would’ve liked. “I’ve never heard anyone talk to you like that.”
“Doesn’t happen often in person, my team mostly deals with calls and messages that say essentially the same things he did. Most people don’t have the audacity to be that awful in person.”
“That makes it more terrifying,” Hermione said quietly, unable to help the way her eyes darted over to the man who was now munching on chicken wings.
It was jarring, how quickly the man could return to something as mundane as eating after what he’d just said. Hermione had heard far worse from callers on James’ phone lines, but for a man to feel calm enough to come up and make such crude comments in person? It was nothing less than chilling.
“We can leave, Hermione,” Draco replied, already moving to pull out his wallet and wave over their waitress.
She shook her head. A crazy man wasn’t going to ruin their vacation; this place was the best reviewed restaurant on the boardwalk on both Google and Yelp, and they’d had to wait 25 minutes for a table. They weren’t leaving now.
“No,” she frowned up at him, rolling her eyes at the kiss he placed onto the furrow between her eyebrows. Draco was a real weird man. “We’re staying.”
The rest of their dinner went smoothly, and Hermione was close to stuffed as they started walking towards the end of the boardwalk. The rides were lit up brightly as the sun set, the ferris wheel turning slowly.
“Everything you thought it’d be?” Draco asked, squeezing her hand where it was intertwined with his. They were in a massive swell of people heading down the boardwalk, but there were just as many people going the opposite direction.
What’d been the final straw before Draco grabbed her hand, though, was when a tram started flying down the boardwalk, blaring its horn before nearly hitting a family posing for photos. The elderly driver was clearly taking no prisoners on his trip down the rickety wood platform. The tightly-wound blond had grumbled quietly about suing idiot drivers, nearly stepping on the fragile hand of a crying little boy who’d thrown himself onto the boardwalk while doing so.
“I love it,” Hermione replied honestly. “I would never want to live here, but a short trip is fun.”
“That’s how I feel about Vegas. It’s fun until you walk in on a prostitute and half dressed grandpa in the hotel elevator.”
“Even without that awful image in my head, I think I’d say I’m content without ever visiting Vegas,” she pursed her lips, the thought of spending time on the dirty, crowded Vegas strip a bit too much to bear.
“I’d say so, sweetheart,” Draco agreed. “Ice cream now or later?”
“Later,” she groaned, rubbing a hand on her stomach as though just remembering she was stuffed. Her maroon romper was loose enough that her bloated stomach wasn’t apparent, but a few days at the beach were enough to have her feeling ill from overeating salty, fried foods. Draco had complained enough for the both of them, so Hermione pretended she was enjoying the food more than she did. It was called proving a point.
“Works for me,” Draco nodded seriously. “Janky carnival rides and then ice cream. That’ll help your tummy settle.”
“My tummy will be just fine,” she emphasized with a look down at said body part. “You didn’t want to go on rides last night or the night before or the night before. This is our only chance!”
“I would be fine if I never stepped foot onto one of those death traps, but I’m willing to die if you’re by my side.”
Hermione laughed, knocking her hip into Draco’s side. “Thank you, my love.”
Draco gave her a smirk at that, pulling her in front of him as they reached a bottleneck closer to the end of the boardwalk, his hands gripping her hips tightly. Instead of feeling controlled and annoyed, Hermione was relieved that Draco was keeping her close. There were far too many people swarming the food stands and carnival games to feel fully comfortable. Not that it would be hard to find the tall, well-dressed, hot as hell blond man if they got separated, but the point still stood.
Before she could even tell Draco that they should keep moving, her foot was stomped on by a man that was at least three times her size. The pain was immediate and so was her reaction.
“Ow!” she yelped, falling slightly backwards into Draco. She could only be grateful for his steady presence; the man who’d stepped on her seemed to have the slowest reflexes ever and hadn’t yet removed his foot from hers.
“I’ve gotcha,” Draco said loud enough for her to hear over the din of a loud, tinny rap song blaring. The blond was glaring at the man who’d hurt Hermione, uncaring of whether or not there was intent behind it. “Apologize.”
The pudgy, bearded man looked shocked at being given such firm direction from Draco, but apologized immediately. Hermione waved him off, subtly flexing her toes to make sure her foot was still fully functional. Despite the throbbing pain, all five toes still moved. Small miracles.
“I’m so sorry, miss,” the man said in a deep southern accent, bowing his head like she was a queen.
“It’s okay!” Hermione assured him, though she was internally screaming at the pain her foot was in. “It’s really crowded here.”
“Ain’t that right,” the man chuckled like they were now close friends. “Y’all have a good night now.”
“You too,” Hermione smiled, knowing without looking that Draco was leveling at the man with the sharpest look he could muster.
“Clumsy idiot,” Draco muttered once they’d taken a few more steps, his grip on Hermione noticeably tighter as he guided her to a half-empty bench, ignoring the looks the couple occupying the other half gave them.
“What if he’s a constituent?” she asked, amused as he gently ran his fingers down her foot like he could identify a strain or fracture.
“Nothing’s broken, but they have to have a medic somewhere around here if you want to get it checked out.”
There was nothing she needed less than the fanfare of finding a medic and getting checked out to find out what she already knew… her foot wasn’t broken, just grievously bruised by an unobservant man. She shook her head, accepting Draco’s large hand as he pulled her up and into his side.
“And I get over 70 percent of the vote every single time I’m up for election, I don’t need his vote,” Draco retorted seriously. “And I don’t want it.”
What a child.
“I’m just kidding, Draco. Lighten up.”
“Lighten up sounds suspiciously close to calm down, which you told me I’m not allowed to say to you.”
The man wasn’t wrong. Nothing served to piss Hermione off more than the phrase ‘calm down,’ especially when it came from a man. And she’d learned rather quickly in college and adult life that men loved nothing more than telling women to calm down, whether it was at the bar or at work or anywhere in between.
“Desperate times,” she replied solemnly. “You can’t be upset on the ferris wheel, it’s against Maryland law. I checked.”
Draco laughed at that, shoulders loosening enough that Hermione knew she’d done her job.
“I must’ve missed that one. Want me to win you a toy before we go on the deathtrap, sweetheart?” Draco cocked his head towards a balloon pop game that had costumed Minions of all sizes for people to try and win.
“Don’t waste your money on a game you can’t win,” she frowned, watching overconfident fathers up and down the strip do exactly that while their families cheered. Until dad ran out of cash to spend on rigged games, of course. Then came the tears.
The offended look that came her way told her all she needed to know.
Draco lost $60 before asking the carny if he could buy the vampire minion that Hermione had pointed out. The man just handed the plush over with an eye roll, muttering about macho, rich guys.
“This better have a place of honor on your bed,” Draco grumbled as he handed the toy over. Hermione made a point to squeeze it in her arms.
“Thank you,” she smiled, feeling grateful for the toy. She was the polar opposite of a stuffed animal person, but she found herself liking anything that Draco got her. So the overstuffed, unsoft yellow toy that had likely been touched by countless grubby hands would be her newest bedtime companion.
It wasn’t until they were up at the tippy top of the ferris wheel that Hermione understood what Draco was talking about. She slid even closer to him, which was a game of centimeters.
“I told you it was scary,” he murmured into her hair knowingly.
“It was fine until it wasn’t. I took physics for my science course in college, I know far too much about what would happen to us if this thing broke down.”
“Nothing good, I’m sure. Outside of being with you as we fall to our deaths, of course.”
The man was far too quick on the draw, even while hanging in the basket of a creaky, old ferris wheel.
It was rather peaceful after that, clammy hands intertwined tightly, Hermione’s head on Draco’s unfairly broad shoulder. She was able to tune out the whirr of other equally questionable rides, eyes flickering to the Chesapeake Bay to their right and endless Atlantic Ocean to their left. It was perfect and easy and had only put them out twenty two tickets which ended up being thirty dollars somehow. Not that Draco had complained, chivalrous money-doling champ that he was.
“I love you,” Draco pressed a kiss to her temple. “I keep finding myself surprised by how capable of love I am.”
Hermione let out a noise at the odd admission. “Oh?”
Draco let out a long noise between his clenched teeth. “When you turn 40 and only have a string of failed relationships behind you, it’s a valid thought.”
“I know you said that you can’t explain it, but I still wonder what’s different,” Hermione mused, flicking curls behind her shoulder as she stared out at the ocean. “About me.”
“Everything,” Draco replied immediately. “You’re perfect for me.”
“Not that anyone besides us would believe it.”
She didn’t have to see Draco’s eyes roll to know it was happening. “To hell with what anyone else thinks, sweetheart. It’s never mattered to me and never will. It’s just us, okay? The people who matter will be there, and the people who don’t won’t be. I’ve lived long enough to know that.”
Hermione had time to think about her reply as the ferris wheel cart they were in thunked to the ground, a dubiously-qualified teenager lending a limp hand to help her out of the cart before allowing a glaring Draco out.
“It’s fine,” she laughed, amused at the man’s expression.
“I’d like to see his credentials,” Draco muttered.
“I don’t think you would,” Hermione shook her head. “We’d have a personal duty to shoo all of those families out of the line if we knew how unqualified he was.”
Her eyes scanned the happy families lined up on the steel entry-ramp for the ride, eyes wide with wonder as they stared up at the same ferris wheel that just had her and Draco fearing for their lives. At least someone would enjoy the beautiful view without fear.
“Anyway,” Draco intoned, wrapping his arm around Hermione’s waist once more as they made their way back into the crush of tourists. “Is there anything else you need, sweetheart? I thought we could go down to the beach.”
“That sounds perfect,” she agreed. “I’m a bit peopled-out, I think.”
“You don’t say,” Draco replied as they navigated their way back down the boardwalk, letting out twin sighs of relief when they were finally far enough away to hear themselves think.
“Thank God we’re out of there,” she went to run her hands through her hair before thinking better of it. There was no telling when the last time the ferris wheel carts were cleaned.
“Bali sounds nice now, doesn’t it?”
“I never said Bali didn’t sound nice, Draco! Of course it sounds amazing, but we had four days to go on a trip, all I wanted was the beach and seafood. This checks all the boxes.”
“I’ll raise your standards one day, sweetheart. Turn you into a big old snob just like me.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Draco’s phone started ringing, something that surprised Hermione. The man had promised to keep his phone off for the entire trip, not that Hermione had asked. He checked in with Blaise first thing every morning and at the end of every night, trusting his right-hand man to fill him in on what he needed to know. Not that there seemed to be much going on; August was always going to be the slowest month of the year when it came to Congress. Members took their time off more seriously than they did anything else.
“Hello?” He answered, running a telltale nervous hand across his sharp jaw. “Good, thank you. Yes, about ten. Just leave it. Thanks.”
The man hung up and put his phone back into his shorts pocket. Hermione waited for him to speak about the short conversation, but he said nothing.
She had to ask. She should’ve expected the shady reply.
“It was nothing,” Draco replied immediately. “Just Blaise.”
Hermione was immediately suspicious; no conversation she’d ever heard him have with Blaise ever sounded like that.
“Hm.”
Draco ignored the noise, continuing to walk in silence until the lights of their hotel were blissfully close.
“Let’s go sit by the water before the drunkards ruin it,” Draco murmured, taking Hermione’s hand in his own.
“I heard nothing last night, but I’ll take your word for it,” she smiled. Draco had complained about how loud it’d been outside when he woke up, grumbling about frat boys and fireworks.
“As you should,” he replied, leaning down to toe off his Sperry’s. Hermione did the same with her flip flops, almost regretting the flat shoes after the surprising amount of walking they did that day.
The darkened water was illuminated by an almost-full moon and a lone lantern that was laid on the sand with a boy sitting nearby. On closer inspection, Hermione could see a plaid beach blanket beneath it… the same blanket they’d used earlier that day.
Draco pulled her over to the blanket, nodding at a teenage boy who skittered off at the motion.
“Hermione Jean, my sweetheart,” Draco started, an audible, uncharacteristically nervous gulp sounding in the silence. He rubbed his left hand across her sweaty cheekbone.
“You came into my life and disappeared immediately after, leaving me with nothing more than the thought of a curly-haired beauty whose internship was ruined by my apathy. When you came back to me, it felt like a sign from God. You are the equal partner I’d prayed for wrapped up in a brilliant little package. You’re everything I want and nothing I deserve.”
Hermione enraptured by his speech enough that she barely noticed the way his right hand was fidgeting at his side, the fingers that were stroking along her cheekbone a hair more intense than she would’ve normally enjoyed.
“I… The way you bite your lip when I reverse the car, your little giggle when I don’t understand your millennialisms, the way you say ‘well, actually’ when I get a fact wrong, the way you protect me with your side-eye glares in public… I never thought that I’d find more joy with you snuggled up under my neck like a sweaty little sea urchin every night than out at fundraisers and campaign events… I can’t live without you, sweetheart, and I never want to know another day without you in it.”
He got down onto one knee far less gracefully than she’d ever seen him move. Her smile was manic, though she’d been aiming for comforting, tears already streaming down her face.
The crashing of waves covered up the throaty sob that Hermione let out as held a glittering ring between two shaky fingers, but by Draco’s small smile, she could tell he didn’t miss it. The man never missed a thing, which was one of the many reasons she knew exactly what she’d say when he asked the question she knew would come next.
“It seems improbable, how quickly I knew that you were the one. I think I knew as soon as you barged into my office and refused to take no as an answer. And I promise I’ll spend every single day for the rest of my life trying to be worthy of you, sweet girl. I’ll protect you and lay down my career for you, if that’s what it takes to make you happy and safe. I’ll fight Aunt Walburga at every family dinner for the rest of her life and fight internet trolls . I swear it. Will you marry me, Hermione? I’ll prove my worth every day for the rest of my life if you let me, sweetheart.”
There was never a moment where he’d sounded less like a politician in her estimation. The cracks in his voice, the bright, wet sheen of his eyes glaring in the moonlight. It was a show of humanity that she’d never been more grateful for; one that made her more sure than ever that this was the man for her. She shoved down the voice in her head crying out that it was too soon, too fast, that they were too different to ever make it work, reasonable as it was. Draco Lucius Malfoy was the one for her.
“Of course,” she sobbed, lowering herself onto her knees and pulling the man into a hug without a thought for the safety of the ring gripped between two of the man’s sweaty fingers. “I love you, I love you, I love you. Yes.”
“Me too, baby,” Draco promised into her hair, pressing kisses against her temple in rapid succession. They sat in silence, the distant sounds of people chattering and water slamming against the sand, the only noises accompanying their breathing.
For someone who was always overthinking, Hermione felt at peace. There was no second guessing her decision, just calm. No one existed outside of their bubble; there were no family members, no friends, no enemies, no godforsaken polls measuring their likeability. It was just Hermione and Draco, huddled together in their unbreakable bubble.
“So do you want to see your ring?” Draco asked into the silence.
Hermione let out a laugh. “Of course.”
“It’s my great-grandma Malfoy’s ring, Brax’s mother,” he explained as he gently slid the ring onto her clammy finger.
“Draco,” she gasped. Even in the lowlight of the electric lamp, the ring was breathtaking. The oval-shaped diamond was nestled on a thick gold band, just as beautiful as she imagined a Malfoy heirloom would be. She shouldn’t have been surprised by the ring’s understated opulence, but she was. Simply because it belonged to her now; the next woman who wore the ring would hear that it’d belonged to her, however many years before… Hermione Malfoy.
“Do you like it?” he asked with a small, sure smile. He didn’t have to say he’d get her a different ring; he knew her well enough to know how much she’d love it.
“I love it. It’s perfect,” she smiled down, wiggling her finger while Draco let out an amused chuckle. The happy soundtrack playing in her mind stopped suddenly. “Draco… was this planned?”
He let out a sigh that told her everything she needed to know. “No, but it doesn’t need to be planned.”
“So what, you were just carrying a ring around in your wallet? For days?”
“Two months,” he smiled sheepishly.
The admission was almost cute enough for her to ignore everything he wasn’t saying.
“And the boy who was over here?”
“Son of the hotel manager,” he explained breezily. “Gave him some money to stake out this spot and scare everyone else away.”
“You trusted a kid?”
“I paid him enough to buy him whatever video games he wants, of course I trusted him,” Draco explained.
She just shook her head; it was the most Draco Malfoy of moves… she shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Your mom is going to freak out,” she said into the silence as her brain came back online, trying not to let the knots in her stomach overtake her happiness at the moment.
“Sweetheart, stop thinking ahead for once. Okay? If I can be present in the moment, so can you,” Draco commanded in the tone that always had her shivering.
“Okay,” she agreed hesitantly. Live in the moment; she could do that.
xxx
August 20, 2019
Hermione thought Draco told the story well; it was cute, a put-together man who was so in love and overcome by emotion that he spontaneously proposed.
The pained look on Narcissa’s face said different, as did the crocodile tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I can’t believe we weren’t there!” she pouted, looking more like a child than a rich, fifty-something-year-old.
“Mother,” Draco replied with a fake air of calm. “This isn’t about you. You have the wedding, bridal shower, and public announcement to look forward to. Aren’t I owed something of my own doing?”
“You are owed nothing!” Lucius retorted.
Hermione had had enough. They’d finally come up with a plan to handle the video of Draco interacting with the man at the restaurant, not that Hermione thought it was a big deal. Tom Riddle had ascended to the top ranks of the United States government after turning his back on a woman who was telling him about her child with cancer. Draco politely ending a conversation with a crazy old man was the least of their worries. Besides, it was the early days of the campaign still. She didn’t even want to think about what was to come, especially as the debates began and Lucius’ opponents, both Republican and Democrat, waged in person attacks on him.
If he couldn’t handle a bit of bad press about Draco, how would the thin-skinned man handle being trampled on face-to-face.
And God, if they didn’t have more than enough ammo.
“Respectfully,” she started, twin warning glances from Draco and Snape that showed her they knew she meant nothing of the word. “Draco’s right. This isn’t about anyone but us. Can’t we just celebrate in peace without talking about the campaign? We’ve already decided to ignore the video, and that’s already public. No one knows we’re engaged… why can’t we act like it?”
Narcissa’s face softened in sympathy immediately, while Lucius’ shoulders stiffened like a cat raising its hackles.
“We didn’t mean to rain on your parade, dear,” Narcissa cooed, as though that wasn’t exactly what she’d been doing for the past hour. “We just want to make sure there’s no backlash on either of you.”
“It’s our lives too, Narcissa,” Hermione said as calmly as she could. “I understand how important the campaign is, but Draco and I deserve to be happy without making it into a sideshow.”
“She’s right,” Draco replied, starting to stand up. “Which is why we’re going to dinner right now. We’ll talk later.”
Draco extended his hand smoothly, helping Hermione up and guiding her out of his parents’ dining room despite the protests sounding from behind them. Only Narcissa scurried after them, apologies on her lips.
Hermione accepted her hug with a nod, swallowing down the anger she felt at the woman. Narcissa, as much as she liked to think differently, always put herself and her husband first. Not that anyone could ever tell her that without irreparably harming their relationship, but the truth still stood. And now, Hermione knew that she had to do the same.
She had to put herself and Draco first, because it was clear no one else was going to. It was the only way she’d be able to keep her sanity and love of her life at the same time.