Bound Fire and Ice
Draco
Loyalty.
The word had echoed in Draco’s mind long after Hermione had said it. He wanted to believe her—needed to believe her—but belief was dangerous. It was a weakness. And Draco Malfoy had spent his entire life ensuring he had none.
Yet, as they walked back to the manor in silence, her words played on a loop in his head.
Even if we didn’t choose this marriage, I would never betray you like that.
Why did it matter? Why did it settle something in his chest that he hadn’t even realized was fractured?
He cast a glance at her as they approached the grand entrance of Malfoy Manor. She was deep in thought, her brows slightly furrowed, as if she too was replaying the day’s events. She had let him hold her hand longer than necessary. She had met Theo’s taunts with unwavering confidence. And she had looked him in the eye and told him that she was loyal.
Draco wasn’t sure what to do with that.
As the door shut behind them, the tension that had coiled between them in Diagon Alley followed them inside. He had expected her to leave him be, to storm off to her wing of the manor and pretend he didn’t exist. But instead, she turned to him, crossing her arms.
"Are you always like this?" she asked, tilting her head.
Draco raised a brow. "Like what? Devastatingly handsome? Unparalleled in wit?"
She rolled her eyes. "Brooding. Intense. Completely incapable of a normal conversation."
A smirk tugged at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Depends on the company."
She studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "You don’t have to be on edge with me, you know. I’m not your enemy."
Draco scoffed. "Aren’t you?"
Hermione’s eyes softened, and for some reason, that irritated him more than if she had snapped back. He was used to her fire, her sharp tongue. He wasn’t prepared for this... whatever this was.
"No, Draco," she said simply. "I’m not."
He wanted to argue, to remind her that this wasn’t real, that they had been forced into this by politics and duty, that they were nothing more than an unfortunate arrangement. But the words lodged in his throat.
Instead, he turned on his heel. "I need a drink."
Hermione didn’t stop him as he stalked off toward the study.
Hermione
The conversation left her rattled.
She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but Draco’s retreat had felt like a loss. And she didn’t know why that bothered her.
She wandered toward the library, hoping that a few hours buried in books would settle the strange weight in her chest. But as she stepped inside, she wasn’t alone.
Narcissa Malfoy stood near the fireplace, her icy blue gaze locking onto Hermione the moment she entered.
"Mrs. Malfoy," Narcissa greeted, her voice smooth and unreadable.
Hermione squared her shoulders. "Mrs. Malfoy," she returned, refusing to let the woman’s presence intimidate her.
Narcissa’s lips curved into something that might have been a smirk, but it was gone too quickly to be sure. "You seem troubled."
Hermione hesitated. Narcissa was a mystery to her. A woman of quiet strength, poised and calculating. She wasn’t sure if this was a test or an olive branch.
"It’s just been a long day," Hermione admitted carefully.
Narcissa studied her, then nodded as if she had come to some conclusion. "Walk with me."
Hermione blinked. "What?"
"You and I haven’t had a proper conversation, and I believe it’s overdue." Narcissa turned gracefully, expecting Hermione to follow. "Come. Let’s talk about what it truly means to be a Malfoy."
Hermione exhaled, knowing she had little choice. She followed, her heart pounding.
They walked through the gardens in silence for several moments, the cool evening air settling around them. The Malfoy estate was breathtaking at night, bathed in silver moonlight, but Hermione barely noticed. Her focus was entirely on the woman beside her.
"You and Draco seem to be... adjusting," Narcissa finally said.
Hermione huffed a quiet laugh. "That’s one way to put it."
Narcissa’s lips twitched. "You don’t trust him."
Hermione hesitated. "I don’t trust us. This marriage—" she swallowed, searching for the right words. "It wasn’t built on a foundation of trust, was it?"
"No," Narcissa admitted, surprising her. "But trust can be earned, Hermione. And it is often tested in ways we don’t anticipate."
Hermione frowned. "Is that what happened with you and Lucius?"
Narcissa’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in her eyes. "My marriage was different. The expectations were clear, the roles defined. But my son…" She paused. "Draco has never been given the luxury of certainty."
Hermione turned to her fully. "What do you mean?"
"He was raised in a world that demanded strength at all costs. That punished doubt and rewarded obedience. And yet, he has always questioned. Always doubted. Even when it was dangerous to do so."
Hermione swallowed, her chest tightening. "And now?"
Narcissa sighed, her gaze drifting toward the manor. "Now, he’s a man who doesn’t quite know who he is without a war to fight."
Hermione looked away, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her sleeve. She understood that feeling all too well.
"You are more alike than you realize," Narcissa murmured.
Hermione shook her head. "He doesn’t see me that way."
"Perhaps not yet." Narcissa’s voice was gentle but firm. "But he will."
Hermione inhaled deeply, her thoughts a tangled mess.
After her walk with Narcissa, Hermione found herself unable to sleep. She wandered through the halls, her mind filled with the weight of everything said and unsaid. She wasn’t sure how she ended up near the study, but the sound of voices caught her attention.
"You’re conflicted," Narcissa’s voice was calm, as always. "And you hate that."
Draco scoffed. "I don’t get conflicted."
"Then why are you drinking?"
Silence. Hermione held her breath.
"Because if I let myself feel this, it’ll ruin me." Draco’s voice was lower now, rougher. "She’ll ruin me."
Hermione’s stomach tightened.
"She is not a weakness, Draco," Narcissa said quietly. "She will only be one if you refuse to see her as anything else."
Draco exhaled sharply. "You don’t understand."
"Oh, but I do." Narcissa’s voice softened, but it held an edge of finality. "I know what it means to love someone who could destroy you. I know what it means to fight against it, to pretend it isn’t there. But ignoring it won’t make it disappear, Draco."
Draco let out a humorless laugh. "And what do you expect me to do? Embrace it? Let her in? And then what? She leaves? I lose everything?"
"Or," Narcissa said evenly, "you gain something you’ve never had before—someone who truly sees you and stays anyway."
Draco swallowed hard, staring into the fire. "It’s too dangerous."
"And pushing her away isn’t?" Narcissa countered. "You’re trying to convince yourself that caring for her is a mistake, but I see it, Draco. You already care. You wouldn’t be here, drinking yourself into a haze, if you didn’t."
Draco didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because everything she said was true. And it terrified him.
Hermione pressed herself against the wall outside the study, her heart pounding. She had heard enough. Too much.
She turned and started to walk swiftly away, Draco’s words echoing in her mind.
Because if I let myself feel this, it’ll ruin me.
Without being aware of her surroundings, she ran right into Lucius in the dimly lit corridor, her mind reeling.
"Mrs. Malfoy," he drawled, making her stiffen. "Eavesdropping? How unbecoming."
Hermione met his gaze with defiance. "I wasn’t—"
"Spare me," Lucius interrupted, stepping closer. "It doesn’t take a master of Legilimency to see the truth. My son is many things, but indifferent to you? That, he is not."
Hermione swallowed hard. "And what would you have me do?"
Lucius smirked. "A Gryffindor asking a Slytherin for advice on emotions? My, how the world has changed."
She scowled, and he chuckled before his expression grew more calculating. "You do realize, don’t you, that Draco has always liked you?"
Hermione blinked, thrown off by the unexpected statement. "What?"
Lucius gave a knowing look. "Why else do you think he tormented you so relentlessly at Hogwarts? My son is not an easy man to understand. When he was younger, he mistook his own emotions—he didn’t know what to do with his fascination, his admiration. He saw it as weakness. And so, he did what was expected—he turned it into hate. It was easier than trying to understand himself."
Hermione felt the breath leave her lungs. "You’re saying…"
Lucius inclined his head. "Draco has spent years fighting against feelings he never fully processed. And now, for the first time, he doesn’t have the luxury of hiding behind schoolyard taunts or bloodlines. Now, he’s forced to confront himself."
Hermione stared at him, her heart pounding. "And what if he never does?"
Lucius’s smirk returned, albeit softer this time. "Then he will be a fool. But I suspect my son is many things, Mrs. Malfoy. A fool is not one of them."
He studied her for a moment longer before stepping past her, leaving Hermione standing in the dim hallway, her mind racing with possibilities she had never dared to consider before.
Hermione wasn’t sure who Draco was trying to convince anymore.
But she was sure of one thing.
Neither was she.
End of Chapter 10