Chapter 3
Hermione had been terrified at the prospect of going back to the manor, but she was not surprised by the invitation. She knew she would have to face the Malfoy matriarch at some point. Having his magic bonded to a witch would annul any betrothal agreements the family had made, for starters. Technically, magical bonding was the equivalent of a marriage bond and in her research, it had sounded like there would be repercussions if certain actions weren’t taken within the first year. She shuddered at the thought, and then pushed it from her mind.
The moment Ron had realized that Hermione had every intention of accepting the invitation, it had led to another argument. It had ended when Ron had given her the ultimatum that if she went to dinner, then their relationship was over. Hermione still felt a little guilty about how relieved she’d been for things to finally be over between them. Ron had stormed back to the Burrow and she hadn’t heard from him since. She was fairly certain he’d sent an owl to Harry, but whatever was said, her friend hadn’t felt it necessary to repeat.
Now, standing at the floo in Grimmauld in the same dress she had worn to Bill and Fleur’s wedding, Hermione smoothed down the skirt, patted the curls that were piled on the top of her head, and took a deep, shaking breath. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and every nerve in her body seemed to be on alert for danger. With a final shaking breath, she tossed a handful of floo powder into the hearth and stepped into the green flames.
Whatever she’d been expecting when she arrived, it had not been the room she stepped into. Instead of the dark gloom she remembered, the receiving room was bright and airy with large windows looking out over rolling green hills on the opposite wall. Before she could fully take in her surroundings, Hermione was greeted by a very old looking house elf wearing a black suit jacket and blue bow tie.
“Miss Granger, I is Buggle, I will take you to Mistress Malfoy.” He held one tiny, wrinkled hand out, and Hermione took it gently and followed the little elf.
They walked through a maze of corridors, all painted the same light cream as the receiving room she’d first entered. It looked nothing like the rooms she remembered from her capture during the war and the suffocating feel of dark magic was completely gone.
Buggle brought her to a smaller room with a large hearth that took up the far wall. A fire was burning, bathing the room in warmth. Four comfortable looking armchairs sat around a low coffee table in front of the fireplace. The drapes had been drawn, but the room was lit by glowing sconces along the walls, which gave it a cozy feel. The table was covered with platters of finger foods. An ornate tea set sat at one end of the table, with three empty cups sitting in front of three of the chairs. The elf gestured to a chair before disappearing with a quiet pop.
Hermione had just sat down when Narcissa entered the room. She was dressed smartly in a navy blue pantsuit. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a tight french twist. She lowered herself gracefully into the seat across from Hermione.
“Good evening, Miss Granger.” She waved her hand in the direction of the teapot and Hermione watched as her cup was filled with steaming tea. The pot floated over to Narcissa’s cup and filled it as well.
“Hello Mrs. Malfoy.”
“Oh, please call my Narcissa.”
The two women sipped at their tea in silence. Hermione had no inclination to speak, so she just waited. Admiring the room and enjoying the rich flavour of the tea. She jumped when the door to the sitting room was flung open.
Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway. His icy gray eyes moved from his mother to Hermione, before his gaze dropped to the floor and he moved the empty chair next to his mother. He didn’t speak or raise his eyes from the table in front of him. He was still thinner than he’d been when they’d been in school together. His face still held the haunted look she’d seen on him when she was being tortured. Narcissa had poured him tea, which sat steaming on the table in front of him. Hermione wondered if he’d even realized it was there.
“So glad you could join us, Draco dear.” Narcissa smiled at her son, and then she turned back to Hermione, her face showing no emotion. They fell into silence again and soon, Hermione had finished the tea and sat holding the empty mug simply so her hands would be occupied. She shifted uncomfortably. Draco’s tea had grown cold, but if he cared, he didn’t let on.
Finally, Buggle appeared and announced that dinner had been served. Narcissa stood and glided from the room. Draco had stopped at the door and when Hermione reached him, he held his arm out and she realized with a start that he intended for her to take it. Hesitantly, she wrapped her hand in the crook of his elbow and allowed him to guide her to the dining room. She had expected a huge room with an ornate table, but when they entered, she saw a square table with only four chairs around it. There was a beautiful crystal chandelier hanging above the table, and one wall held a large stained glass window showing the Malfoy family crest.
They each took a seat, Draco pulling out Hermione’s chair before taking his own seat across from her. He still hadn’t spoken and he seemed to be avoiding looking directly at her. She could feel his magic wrapping itself around her own and it gave her a warm, comforting sensation in her chest. Their food appeared in front of them, some kind of fish Hermione was unfamiliar with, risotto, and grilled asparagus.
“Let’s get right to it, shall we? What would you like to discuss first? The wedding plans or the expectations of becoming Lady Malfoy?” Narcissa took a bite of asparagus and waited for Hermione’s response.
* * *
“Pardon?” Hermione almost choked on the bite of risotto she’d just put in her mouth. Swallowing quickly.
“Surely you have already determined that the bond you formed with my son’s magic is unbreakable. Magical bonds must be consummated within a year in order for the parties to maintain their magical core. And since you so selflessly announced the bond to the entire Wizengamot, you’ve left no option but to wed. Unless you’d rather my son returned to Azkaban.” She arched one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
“I had hoped to find a way to break it. I’m sure Draco has no desire to marry me!” Hermione looked desperately over to the blonde in question.
Instead of the meal that had appeared in front of Narcissa and Hermione, he was slowly eating a bowl of what looked like broth. He didn’t lift his eyes from the soup, and continued eating in slow, methodical spoonfuls.
“Bonding magic is unbreakable, Miss Granger. I’m aware you were not brought up in a wizarding family and are unfamiliar with the various customs that Pureblood families have practiced for generations. The Dark Lord may have been defeated, but someone as brilliant as yourself, must realize that the reason he was able to gain the power he did was because even if people weren’t quite as hostile in their beliefs, they still held them.”
“And it must pain you to know that your bloodline is now sullied because of me.”
“Not at all. I admit, I was raised to believe in blood purity, and as such, I was to support my husband in all his endeavors, even if they were psychotic.” She let out a sniff of distaste before continuing, “You have proven yourself to be a remarkable and talented witch. My only concern is ensuring that you are skilled enough to navigate the prejudice society you are about to enter. If you want to beat the pureblood ideologists, you will first need to be able to gain their trust. And that requires the skills and knowledge that pure blood witches are raised learning.”
Hermione considered Narcissa’s words. She did have ambitions, and she wasn’t stupid enough to believe that the death of Voldemort had cured wizarding society of all prejudice. She already bristled whenever she was introduced as the brightest witch of her age and it was quickly followed up with the acknowledgment that she was muggleborn as well. Even Molly Weasley often referred to her blood status as though it was a disadvantage she had somehow overcome.
“I have to agree it would be helpful to have a greater understanding of wizarding culture, but I’ve never seen a book on the customs.” She responded carefully.
“Ah, well. That would be because there isn’t one. Purebloods especially like to keep things very private. But I’ve arranged a tutor. Someone who was raised to be the perfect wife of a pure blood heir, and who’s betrothal was sadly annulled during the war.”
The empty plates in front of them disappeared suddenly and were replaced with a lovely sticky toffee pudding. Draco’s bowl disappeared as well, but no dessert appeared in front of him. Without a word, he stood and left the room. Hermione felt her stomach sink, and she picked at her dessert without much interest. How was she expected to marry someone who so obviously hated her? She imagined a life of silent dinners and painfully awkward society events and felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. She didn’t understand why she was so disappointed with Malfoy’s disinterest. Considering their history, it wasn’t like she expected him to be happy with the situation, but he seemed so depressed by the idea she wondered if his mother had him on suicide watch.
“Thank you, Narcissa. I appreciate you doing this for me.” She managed to croak out the words.
“You’re very welcome, my dear. I’ve arranged for Miss Parkinson to accompany us tomorrow for a shopping trip. Your wardrobe is in desperate need of an update and it will give us a chance to get to know one another.”
“Miss Parkinson? Pansy Parkinson?” Hermione couldn’t hide the slightly panicked edge to her voice.
“Yes, she’s agreed to tutor you. She and Draco have been friends since childhood and she was betrothed to Theodore Nott until recently.”
Hermione was certain things could not get worse.