Chapter 19
“Objection, evasion, joyous distrust, and love of irony are signs of health; everything absolute belongs to pathology."
Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil
After the way Granger left the night before, Blaise wasn't surprised she wasn't up all bright-eyed and bushy-haired when breakfast was served. They hadn't heard that Draco was back, which meant the brunette was their responsibility to look after, even if there were better things he could be doing with this morning.
He had a tray with breakfast as well as a hangover remedy, sure that the witch had actually tried to outdrink the bottomless bottle she had. But as he made it to that wing of the manor, he frowned as soon as he noticed her bedroom door open.
He quickened his pace to check inside, the tray slotting itself down on her bedside table. There were a few things he noticed: her bed was still made. The only shoes in the room were the run-down trainers that the elves hadn't tossed yet. Even her damn cat wasn't in the room.
He left her bedroom and went back down the hall, opening the door where Nott was waiting. "She's gone." He tried to sound calm, but there was anxiety, making him more tense. What if she somehow got out?!
"Check the library. I'll check the study."
Nott leaned against the mantel, scanning the study and living area that stretched between the two rooms. Only the book and that copy of the Prophet the girl had caught his attention on the low wooden table. His thoughts came to a halt as Zabini spoke.
"Fuck," the single word escaped the blond, but with a nod, he was already out and on the lookout.
Fuck seemed like an understatement with how angry she had been. He walked the few stacks in Draco's study, almost tripped over a disgruntled ball of fluff, and noticed the Death Eater mask on the floor near his friend's desk. A desk that had multiple grooves and chips taken out of it.
Either Draco got back into the very early hours of the morning and had a terrible night, or the witch attacked him, and now they had a bigger problem. Why did Malfoy have to want that witch? The witch that could get them all killed if she refused him. If she was too stubborn to save her own skin. And she could be that stubborn. She was put in Gryffindor.
Putting the mask on the desk, he went back out to that sitting room, glancing at Draco's room. He'd wait for Nott, but then they also had to check there or report in.
Nott returned empty-handed from the library and watched his friend. "He's going to be pissed," he whistled under his breath, knowing where they had to go next. None of this was going to end well. He could feel it as he neared the set of doors that led to the blond's quarters.
"Well, he isn't going to be pleased," Blaise agreed easily. Though considering that the last person to take Malfoy's wrath had been Nott? He led the way. Taking one for a friend had become something they had to do every so often to keep things going.
He turned the handle, slowly pushing the door open. There were particular bad nights where if he had woken Draco without warning, he had to deal with getting hexed back against the opposite wall.
"Draco?" He called into the dark room, his eyes having to take a moment to adjust to the gloom.
Firmly asleep against her shoulder, Draco hadn't moved an inch from where he'd fallen asleep. He would have gladly spent the day there, recharging after a harsh few days. The sound of his name had his eyes snap open, realizing the state of undress he and the brunette were in and how he was still inside her.
With a quick move, his wand was in hand, pressing to her temple to disillusion her, thick velvet curtains blocking any light from entering his room as the spell took a few moments to take effect.
"It best be a fucking emergency, Zabini," the very words pulsed through his head. The firewhiskey hadn't been his finest moment.
Hermione started to stir when she heard someone speaking. She almost groaned. Her mouth was a little dry—she had had way too much wine and firewhiskey the night before. But then it registered where she was, who was on top of her, still inside of her, and who was talking.
Holding back a curse, she felt that magic settle over her, obscuring her from view. Her brow furrowed a little. Why would he do that?
The sound of his voice, strained as it was, had Blaise grimace just a little bit. "Well...It is. We can't find Granger. The door to her room is open but she isn't in it...We checked the library and the study. No sign of her."
At that Draco was relieved it wasn't an actual emergency. Shifting, he cast a spell towards his ensuite.
"Of course, you wouldn't find her," he motioned towards the shower. "You just missed her. Now if you'll get the fuck out of my room," he said simply. "I'd very much like forget either of you fools were in here," he drawled.
Nott swallowed down and nodded. "Never here," he echoed, walking backward.
Blaise's eyes widened for just a moment, but a small smile curved his lips. Not his witch. Right. Granger had a lot of complexities to work through it seemed.
"Understood..." he said as he walked backward, closing the door behind him and Nott. Glancing at Theo, he smiled just a touch more and raised a brow. "...Think either of them will actually be in a better mood?
"Merlin, I have to hope so," he grumbled
Draco listened for his not only his doors to close, but the ones from his study before lifting the charm he'd placed on her. He hadn't liked to admit she'd been here, but with her missing, he knew it had been the only way to stop them from investigating further.
"Morning," he managed, enjoying the sight of her bare body revealing itself beneath him.
Looking up at him, she couldn't help but keep blushing. Damn it. Reaching up, she pushed her hair out of her face completely, looking him over. He had marks from her nails.
"Morning," she murmured, her gaze slowly meeting his.
He couldn't stop his finger from tracing that red streak on her cheek.
That gentle touch, even after everything, was a surprise. It stole whatever she was about to say for a moment or two before she cleared her throat softly.
"We...should probably get up..." Before more of his subordinates needed him for something.
She wasn't wrong. And yet, it would require him to leave her. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded.
"Probably shower," he finally added. At least the water would be hot.
Carefully, he lifted himself off of her, allowing the sheets to fall over her as he stepped off his bed. He couldn't look back. Couldn't stop his beeline for the adjoining room or he'd change his mind.
"A shower sounds like a good idea," she breathed. And maybe it would allow her a chance to think. Could she leave his room and get to her own shower?
She'd have to pull back on her clothes. It would be the strangest walk of shame she'd ever had. She watched him get out of bed and walk towards the adjoining room.
Her nails had done a number on him, and it made her shift the sheet back so she could glance down her body. There were bite marks along her breasts and bruises on her hips, and she had no idea if there were marks on her neck.
When he walked under the spray, he hissed at the sting that covered his chest and back. Those claw marks brought vivid imagery back from the night before. He didn't want to question the fact that she had been in his bed, that she had willingly joined him despite the violence he had displayed.
Keeping the sheet around herself as she sat up, she looked around the room. At least she could find her things easily enough. Sharing a shower with him seemed even more intimate than just letting him shag her. Because that's all it was. All it could be, even with those words exchanged.
Yours. Mine. She chewed at her bottom lip as she grabbed her knickers and pulled those on first before pulling back on her bra and hunting around for her dress. The leggings could disappear. Hopefully the other two weren't just waiting in the hall somewhere.
A potion could easily rid him of every last mark she had left on him, and yet he had no desire to do so. He doubted she would join him, so he took his time. Lathering potions in his short white blond locks. Giving her the time to gather herself and leave. He couldn't blame her. Had he really left her a choice the night before? He dreaded to think about it. His mouth felt like he'd eaten cotton, and that throb in his head threatened to linger despite the advancements in hangover potions. Did the sun have to shine so bright through the stained glass family crest that threw greens and golds across the stone flooring?
Pulling back on her dress, she couldn't wait to just bask in a shower. Without her wand she'd have to towel dry her hair but that was the least of her concerns. Before she left his room, she paused for just a moment, approaching the doorway into his bathroom. "....We should talk over breakfast." She said just loud enough to be heard over the water before she left.
Swiftly going to her own rooms, ignoring if anyone was in the hall, she turned on the hot water, as hot as she could stand it, and stripped back down. All of those clothes going into the hamper. She'd worry about what to wear after. But she stepped into the shower herself and looked at the marks over her body. Each mark making her remember how incredibly attentive he was with her body.
It was almost enough to make her reach back down between here legs. But no. Focus. Focus on cleaning up and making sure she could be composed.
Her words haunted him as he fell back into his rituals. The way he doted on his hair, scrubbed every inch of his flesh. It wasn't her, so much as everything that had lead up to the night before he tried to strip from himself.
Talk. Over breakfast. Beyond coffee, he wasn't certain he had the stomach to eat. Behind his navel, he could feel a coil. He'd crossed the line. He knew he had.
He could only take so long before he was dressed and pacing his chambers. The House Elves had passed, cleaning up the chaos of the night before. His clothes were gone from the floor, his bed made.
When he stepped out of his quarters into the study and living space that stretched between their chambers, he noticed everything was back as it had been. His desk was back to its pristine state. His mask and robes were likely back in his closet, not that he bothered to look. The books on the coffee table were straightened. Evidence of their drinking long gone, as any out of place blanket that had shielded her from his view.
Part of him wanted to trash the room again, but there was no point, and he didn't have it in him. Instead, he moved to his cabinet to pluck a few potions and tucked them in his breast pocket before making his way to the smaller dining room he opted for to avoid the larger rooms of his home.
She took her time cleaning her hair, using the hair potions that had been provided to take all of the frizz out of her hair. They were better versions of the potions she had used at Hogwarts, smelled divine, and left her hair always feeling better. Part of her felt guilty for enjoying these things. The hot water, the finer potions for her hair, the soaps and cleansers for her skin. Her friends, the ones still left with the insurgency, were struggling. Cold water. Whatever supplies they could steal or were dropped for them.
And then how much she enjoyed that. No nightmares had touched her while she slept and she felt so incredibly satisfied in a way that the others she'd slept with hadn't been able to manage. I'd love to make a mess of you properly some time. The words echoed in her head, and she didn't know if it was a promise or a curse.
"What have you gotten yourself into, Granger?" she grumbled to herself before she rinsed off, cut off the water, and took the time to dry her hair carefully. Once out of the bathroom, she picked another matching set of underthings, black this time, a black skirt that went past her knees, and a deep blue quarter-sleeved blouse. A hint of her scar was visible, but she tried to ignore it as she ruffled out her hair a little before leaving her quarters.
Her head throbbed, and her mouth still felt dry like cotton. But she'd manage. If he had a hangover cure, she'd take it without hesitation. She moved to sit across from him, crossing one leg over the other as she looked at him, glad he didn't seem to notice the Prophet she had been reading the night before.
As she sat, he reached into his breast pocket, sending two potions her way and keeping one for himself. The night before hadn't been planned, and where he happily took infertility potions when he knew a risk was posed, neither of them had exactly been in their right wits.
"One will take the edge off, the other," he paused and tried to find a way to express it without being crass. "Well, it'll prevent certain consequences." He wouldn't force her to take either. It had to be her decision. Rather than linger he took his matching vial and reached for a cup of strong tea.
That one implication had a bit of pink color her cheeks again before she cleared her throat and poured herself a cup of tea. She downed one vial and then the other, using the tea to chase down both substances. "....Thank you."
The last thing she wanted was to have his kid. Clearly, the feeling was mutual. She took another long pull from her tea and closed her eyes, grounding herself. "I feel like I should....either explain or apologize for ambushing you in your study. I didn't mean to fall asleep in there as I waited for you to get back..."
Hermione managed not to try to correct how that sounded. It sounded like she had been eagerly waiting, and yet she had eagerly let him take her to bed. Something was wrong with her. Finding Draco Malfoy that attractive or being that good together in bed should have felt wrong.
What word did she constantly use for him? It perked his brow as he didn't interrupt. She had waited for him, and by her own admittance, she had ambushed him. It could have ended far worse than it had. Still, she certainly had him curious.
His plate filled with breakfast staples. Eggs, sausage, bacon, beans, even a stuffed tomato he was more than fond of, but he made more motion to reach for his utensils.
Her plate was filled with breakfast staples, but she picked up a piece of toast to nibble at first despite her growing appetite. Another week or so, and she'd be more than healthy again, she was sure.
"I came across a copy of the Prophet....the one that came out three days after you...." she trailed off, trying to find words that wouldn't set off her own anger. "after you brought me here. So your intentions are very public knowledge already, aren't they?"
Draco nearly spit his tea. He'd been careful, not wanting that to weigh on her decision. Whoever had given her a copy would hurt. "So, you did," he said carefully, trying to decide his next statement.
With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair and considered her. "Far more public than I intended them," he opted with partial honesty. The Dark Lord hadn't been the most pleased with his endeavors, and had left him little margin for error.
"I should probably warn you my parents are planning to visit over the weekend. I would rather you not allow my mother to corner you." He could only imagine the fresh hell Narcissa would put him through. She'd had visions for his wedding the moment he was born, he was certain.
Hermione noted his reactions, the curtness of it all. She took another sip of her tea as she thought about what to say to that. "How private did you want it all to be? With him publicly showing he gives his blessing, I can only assume that things won't go well for you if you don't manage to bring me to heel."
Her tone was surprisingly calm as she took another sip of tea. As much as she would have wanted to rip apart his logic, him, You-Know-who, or his family. she was learning. Zabini seemed convinced already that she was already his. It was likely be his or die.....And after last night there were certainly worse fates.
"I suppose avoiding her completely is out of the question. Your parents must be thrilled at your courtship choices," she almost chuckled, but the sound didn't hold humor as she shook her head. What fresh hell would those two bring into her life?
"There will be no privacy. That much has been made clear," he swallowed down. He didn't want to think of what would come of it if, like she said, he couldn't bring her to heel.
He wouldn't force her to face his mother, even less his father. This was his doing, and he'd take as much of the brunt as he could.
"My father has certainly shared his displeasure," he shrugged. "My mother..." he sighed. "At this point will accept any means to be given a grandchild," he rolled his eyes. "Watch any gifts, I can imagine they'll have some fertility magic to them," he ran a hand through his hair.
"Clearly," she stated with a sigh, running her fingers through her hair and fiddling with a strand around one of her index fingers. His father didn't frighten her. She'd seen Lucius Malfoy at his worst and had fought him in the Ministry of Magic along with other young witches and wizards before, but Narcissa was an unknown—and Bellatrix's sister.
Taking a bite of food, she tried not to choke at the idea of Narcissa attempting to use some sort of fertility magic to get grandchildren. Which meant there would be questions about grandchildren. Not something she liked the idea of.
He paused and looked at her a moment. "Have you...decided then?" he asked.
Her heart started to hammer in her chest again. "That depends on how you answer a few questions I have about this."
Draco finally breathed, nodding. He took a quick bite of his tomato before breaking the silence again. "Ask away," he encouraged.
Hermione noticed that he seemed to relax. She couldn't even hex or curse him, and he seemed more nervous around her now than when she could. Odd.
"Would you actually spare what friends of mine you could?" She knew better than to ask about Harry and yet she'd try to save him on he rown if she could.
"I imagined you would have a list," he nodded. It had been one of those things he had anticipated. "I'm not a miracle worker; we both know his obsession with Potter." His tone was careful. If they'd been anywhere but his wing he would have nipped the conversation in the bud. "But I am afforded some lenience."
"Quite the list," she half joked. It wasn't nearly as long as it once would have been. A sigh left her lips as she glanced down at her plate. "I'm abundantly aware about how he feels about Harry. I'll get you a list." Hopefully this wasn't too late for Luna or Neville or the Weasley siblings she could save.
How did she ask her remaining questions? Like ripping off a band-aid perhaps. "With a marriage of convenience are we to keep separate rooms and only share a bed when we both want to or do I share your rooms? What all would be required of me as lady of the manor? Would I finally get my wand back? Assuming it hasn't been snapped by someone."
Someone. Not him. She didn't think that he would at this point. She saw the way he looked at her last night.
"Hopefully, a manageable one," he warned gently, sipping his tea.
At her next questions he took a few moments before responding. "Our sleeping arrangements will be up to you. Either are acceptable. No one will question any of it," he shrugged. Especially after this morning. Being caught that way, he doubted there would be a single one to question the legitimacy of his claim here.
"You'd get your wand back the moment we'd establish the first portion of our vows, and officially engage in a courtship. It'll prevent either of us from attempting harm on the other until the vows are complete. Once those are set, you are free to manage our properties as you see fit." He had never cared for any of the bookkeeping. "We do have competent staff to guide you. Financial advisors, lawyers, healers, down to gardeners. If you plan to use those assets otherwise, just make sure I don't have a trail to clean up." He met her gaze firmly.
"You would be your own agent, and many doors would open for you, you'd also have to recall your limitations as you take on the title of Mrs Malfoy. There will be expectations from the outside world, and the scrutiny will be malicious at best given our backgrounds."
"Depends on your definition of manageable." She replied with a bit of that fire she'd always held. But she took the warning for what it was, a warning not to overreach.
To that, he kept quiet. It wasn't like he had a number. It was volatile territory, and whoever she chose to save would need placing somewhere where they couldn't become problematic again. All things for another time.
She'd have to think about their sleeping arrangements. Sleeping next to him after sleeping with him had been nice. Until Zabini and Nott had woken them up. She was sure in cases of emergency she'd still be woken up. But it was some way to actually keep up to date with everything going on. And she would want that. She nodded, her brow slightly furrowed. Hopefully she wouldn't have to have an answer for that now.
"You realize I never expected to run multiple properties worth of anything with a partner, of convenience or otherwise, don't you? And how might I use them otherwise?" She wanted to be perfectly clear. Doing this meant they were both going to be accountable for the other. Anything one of them did could get the other killed. She wasn't naive enough to actually think that this made her perfectly safe. As he said. Many doors open but also many limitations and expectations.
"As I said, you'll have a very competent team to rely on." He hadn't exactly asked for it too. "The Malfoys and Blacks have always been quite involved in charities, I don't see why it couldn't continue," he hoped she could read between the lines. That perhaps she didn't need him as openly to save some of her friends.
"I'm not unaccustomed to unkind scrutiny," she reminded, thinking back to Rita Skeeter. Where was that insect of a woman when she could actually be useful? Later. "....I know you have some power over what gets published in the Prophet. Anything that would show up in regards to us that you have any so so over, I'd like a hand in it or at least a warning of what might go out." She couldn't demand everything in regards to them. You Know Who would say and publish what he wanted.
"I would certainly hope you'd take charge of the publicity we garner. We have journalists on payroll, I'll gladly introduce you."
A competent team to rely on. She'd have to do a lot of relying on and have to see where all of the properties were located. Then possibly see if she could utilize them for charity work as he seemed to be implying. Perhaps that would allow her a bit more change than she would have thought possible. He seemed to want her to try and do more for herself. And after seeing how unhinged whatever he had been forced to do had made him, she wasn't sure things were as black and white with Draco as she had always assumed.
"Charity work I can handle. Perhaps that will also limit the number of Howlers I'm certain to get," she muttered with a bit of a grimace. Reporters and journalists on the payroll. Of course they were. That made all the sense in the world. Though it did have a slight spark light up her eyes as she smiled a little bit more to herself. "Skeeter still around? The woman owes me a few favors."
"Does she now?" he tried not to laugh. It certainly explained her reticence every so often. The ministry might have been unaware of her abilities, but Draco hadn't been. It was how he and Pansy had communicated with her during the Tri-Wizard tournament, holding her in the palm of his hand.
Favors. As if she weren't still black mailing the woman. Having a talent unregistered that could have helped this regime would have gotten her in hot water. And she wasn't above using that again. Though, that did leave only one or two more questions.
"Courtship. How long would that usually last in this kind of situation? Considering that if I agree we both know what the answer is." And she was sure there would be a mix of congratulations and hatred coming both of their way.
"We'd have a few weeks at most." In giving her time to adjust, he'd shortened the clock. "I'd imagine the Dark Lord has already enlisted a small army to either host the most decadent wedding or..." he didn't even bring himself to imagine the execution he'd have if he failed.
"Let's just say we got quite close and I learned a few of her little secrets," she said simply, knowing he already knew about that little tidbit about her. And if they were going to do this, they wouldn't have many secrets from each other. For better or worse.
Looking him over as he paused, she let out a breath and shook her head. "Or killing me, if not you, for failing in dealing with me again, yes? I'm not squeamish. The last seven years have had me get accustomed to things I never would have thought to." She stated rather bluntly with a shrug of her shoulders as she considered it. Decadent wedding. Ugh. "I don't suppose there's a way to make this a smaller affair rather than some decadent social event?"
She knew the answer. Deep down she already knew the answer and it made her stomach start to twist into knots. And Him. She'd have to be around him and act like her skin wasn't crawling.
"If I could, I would, but any Malfoy wedding would be...opulent. Straying from that narrative would only raise suspicions." It was obvious he didn't like it any more than she did. Every one who was someone would be there to judge for themselves. "I can help find you a potion or spell to help make it more palatable. Only one of us is going to be expected to take this sober." He would rather she have her wits about her, but he could shoulder this too. It was his idea, after all.
A sigh left her lips as she closed her eyes. An opulent affair where everyone was going to be there. Including people she had hexed, cursed, tried to kill, and that was if it went smoothly. No one she would want to invite would be there, leaving her utterly alone and having to play pretend like everything was utterly fine. This time, when she lifted her glass of tea, her hand shook just a little bit before she took a slow sip and shook her head. "I'd rather be alert and aware. Better to know what people are saying, and easier to play a part if I'm not under the influence of something. One wrong move could get us both killed anyway," she muttered, sounding just a little more bitter about it all.
"I don't suppose that there could be an attempt to get an extra week or two. Use the excuse that you're preparing me further for the role I'm to take on. I was raised by Muggles after all," she murmured, that bitterness back to her voice before she did take a bite of her food. Doing this would likely ensure that she never saw her parents again. She wouldn't risk them. Even with her tied to the Malfoys, that wouldn't keep them safe from Him. And You-Know-Who could use them to threaten her.
Time to tip her hand a little bit, she supposed. "Any Muggle that was tied to me will be left alone, won't they? No more searching for people that should be there but aren't?"
“That depends on your ability to sway my mother and the Dark Lord.” He was glad for the few bites he had managed. “She’ll want time to plan a proper wedding, and though he’s impatient if given the right incentives, he might be willing,” he swallowed down. If they were to stretch it out, it would become the talk of the media. His master would use it to lure her friends, to test her resolve in all of this.
He could only think of a specific set of muggles she could be talking about without incriminating himself. Her parents. They'd searched high and low for them but hadn't had the faintest whiff of the pair. It would have been the perfect way to end her, but alas, she did know how to cover her tracks when given the time to do so.
“Tell me they’re dead,” he met her gaze. “I have no reason not to trust my fiancée on such matters.” If the memory were to ever surface, he’d merely seem the doting lover saving his bride to be the embarrassment. “I’m sure we can find someone suitable to walk you down the aisle.” It certainly wouldn’t be his father. His mother was the inspired one for this sort of ordeal.
Hermione wasn't sure how to convince the pair of them of this, but she'd figure it out. She ate a few more bites, dreading what sort of monstrosity of a dress Narcissa would want to put her in, what sort of gaudy ring would end up on her finger if only because Malfoy opulence was something the wizarding world expected, and the amount of disappointment she'd garner from absolutely everyone she had fought beside.
Looking him dead in the eyes, her face went entirely blank, she shielded her mind just in case. "They're dead." The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. The nail in the coffin, making her want to go find a place to be to grieve the fact that unless You-Know-Who was killed somehow, someway, she would never see them again. It made her heart ache, and she was not about to let him see her cry.
With a bit of a snort though she looked down at her food, chasing at things on her plate with her fork. "Could really piss off everyone and suggest Percy Weasley." Considering that a little bit longer, she stabbed a piece of sausage with her fork. "Or Zabini." He'd been kind so far. As had Nott. It would show some sort of allegiance to Draco, wouldn't it?
Draco was glad he had given up food and drink entirely at her first thought. Even he couldn’t help the dark chuckle. “But then I’d have to cut his hands off,” he whispered. He’d do it to whoever put a hand on his witch.
“Zabini would be honored. Then it would get to his head,” he added. “And it barely fits through doors.” Blaise and Theo would likely be at his side. “We’ll find you some suitable bridesmaids,” he added, thinking of the Greengrass sisters. Even Pansy would play nicely if he asked.
He looked her over a moment. She was dressed appropriately for an outing. “We should definitely get you fitted for a dress,” he thought aloud. “Can’t have the first page be in something off a rack,” he slicked his lips.
That actually had her snort. "You'd have to beat me to it." She said simply, clearly not having any fondness for that particular Weasley. Damn traitor that he was.
"I could think of worse things than Zabini having an inflated sense of ego. I'll be open to suggestions," she conceded with a shrug of her shoulders, still chasing things on her plate, her stomach knotting a bit more. She hadn't even thought of bridesmaids. It made her nose wrinkle a moment before she sighed and looked away. "Of course."
Considering what he was saying, what he was offering, she gave a slight shrug. "It won't fit for long....Regular high quality food is agreeing with me."
"Then I'll just have to buy you more..." He stood from his seat and walked slowly around the table. If she took on a few pounds, he knew exactly what rumours would soon follow, and if anything, it would keep their mediatic circus busy with fantasy over reality. Leaning to brush a kiss to her temple he smiled.
"Main fireplace, half an hour? Avoid the jewelry box. A fancier set of cloaks should do," he guided. "Neeley can assist if you ask." The elf had learned from the Malfoy matriarch, after all.
The idea made her stomach turn itself into even more knots. She could hear her mother's words of working for herself and she could do anything ringing in her mind. Her mother would be so disappointed in her, if the woman even could remember that she existed. That light kiss to her temple had her close her eyes as she gave a nod of assent.
"I can manage picking my cloak," she said calmly, scooting out from her seat without another glance at her plate, still mostly full unlike usual, as she went to her room to find one that would be suitable for this outing.