Chapter 22
“Freedom is the power to choose our own chains”
Jean-Jacques Rousseau
The manor was different from her last visit, yet it hadn’t changed. Dark colors, rich fabrics, and those wards she felt sizzle against her skin. From the moment she set foot in the foyer, it was like life was being breathed into the very lungs of the home. Staff made themselves useful, elf magic filling the air under her scrutiny.
“Your son wishes he could be here, madam,” Nott greeted her with a deep bow. “His last owl suggested he would arrive tonight.”
Narcissa looked over the dirty blond that had been a scrawny child squatting her home in his youth. Her hand rose to cup his cheek. “Good thing I have you now, don’t I,” she smiled fondly. “You’ll join me for lunch, won’t you?” She asked. “With Blaise. I haven’t seen you boys in so long.”
She doted on them like a mother. Always had, and no Dark Lord or rank ascension of her son would change that.
Nott gave her that boyish smile, a light in his eyes she seldom saw. He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good, because I need you both to help me ensure my introductions here are flawless. I’m meeting my soon-to-be daughter-in-law. I could use some insider knowledge.”
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Hermione had been spending time with Lauren in the library and then had made her way back to Draco's wing. It had been almost a week since she'd last seen him, and they hadn't had a chance to work on their vows to figure out what would work. Which meant she was still wandless. Frustrating as it was, she couldn't blame him. When he had an order, he had an order. She knew that frustration well enough.
"Ms. Granger?" A voice behind her chimed as she glanced over her shoulder before opening the door.
"Yes?" She paused, resting her shoulder against the door, trying not to pull at her clothes. They were starting to get a little bit tight, though it was something that the elf seemed to notice.
"Oh. I'll get that fixed immediately, Ms. But your presence has been requested in the dining room here in Master Malfoy's wing. Half an hour."
A sigh left her lips, but she nodded faintly. "Thank you. I'll be punctual," she said before stepping into her room, washing her face, and getting a little cleaned up. The blouse she was in hugged her curves a bit too close for comfort, and the skirt hugged her hips more as well.
If Draco was actually back and they were going to discuss the vows, then she would dress up a little bit more. If only because he apparently liked seeing her dressed up, and she could use what advantage she could get. Just because they were good in bed didn't mean she trusted him not to push an advantage that he thought he had.
The dark grey skirt hugged her hips tightly, showing off her fuller hips as she filled out more. The blue top she had on had buttons up to her sternum as decorations and smooth flowy fabric over her chest and along her arms, the sleeves ending out her elbows. The necklace was around her throat, and her hair had a bit of curl at the bottom. She teased her fingers through it and felt a little strange with how she was filling back out again. Healthier. At least she knew she didn't look like a skeleton anymore.
Stepping into a pair of black low heels, she let out a slow breath, picked up her notebook of ideas, knowing better than to list the names of those she wished to save, and made her way to the dining room. As she stepped through the door, she almost froze mid-step, her heartbeat starting to thunder in her chest as anxiety spiked. Despite that, she smiled politely. "Mrs. Malfoy...what a pleasant surprise. We weren't expecting you til Friday..."
"There was an earlier portkey," she responded just as easily, moving forward to study this new feminine presence in her son's life. He would have a few choice words on her part that the Prophet of all things, had given her notice.
Of course, there had been. There were always earlier portkeys. They could make them. Though, as she took in Narcissa's presence, she wasn't sure what to make of the woman. She wasn't the frazzled battle-weary woman she had seen last. Just as thin as she had always seen the woman, she wondered if she had been thinner than that recently or not for a brief moment. But she pushed that aside.
Narcissa had aged, though she somehow seemed more relaxed than the last time they would have crossed paths. Italy had been agreeing with the woman. Her hair was carefully brought back and twisted elegantly behind he head. Her dress hugged her thin body—a boat neckline to her dress with a pencil fitting that fell below her knees. Elegance and grace had always been her signature fashion.
Reaching forward, she beckoned the young woman's hands.
Hermione strode forward and offered her her hands so she could get a look at her.
"Look at you," she appraised. "I wish I could say I've heard so much about you, but beyond your years at Hogwarts, I can't say Draco's been very forthcoming," she offered a smile that was equal parts sorrow. Her son had stopped talking to her for some time. Protecting her the same way she had done for him in his youth.
"Draco has always been a private person in my experience. And I don't believe he wanted the Prophet to be the one to tell you, Mrs. Malfoy," she offered as a small consolation. But she felt more nervous. Draco had warned her not to be left alone with his mother. What was she about to do? "He should be home before too long, I'm sure." She hoped. Dear Merlin, let him be back soon since neither Nott nor Zabini had warned her about this at all.
Though ever the portrait of the demure and doting matriarch, Narcissa had a shrewdness in her gaze so many mistook. She eyed the ring on the girl's finger. "I expect this is a placeholder," she let her thumb brush it. "Always breaking with tradition, that boy," she gave with dark mirth beneath her breath.
A small smile curved her lips, and she quickly nodded. "Of course. He just wanted me to have something to hold me over. We've already spoken with a jeweler about having something made custom," she stated, trying not to fidget. If this necklace gave insight into how a person attached to it was doing, did that mean that Draco felt her anxiety or knew she was trying to quell something distressing? Hopefully, that wouldn't be distracting if he was still doing whatever it was he had to do.
"I'm glad to finally be gaining a daughter," she gave those hands a soft squeeze. "You'll learn not to expect Malfoy men for dinner," she added with a shrug. "Though I've no doubt he'll hurry knowing I'm here," she smiled. "I brought wine from the vineyard. You really should convince my son to take you."
Hermione wasn't sure what to say to any of that, but she chuckled slightly. "I'm already coming to expect that, Mrs. Malfoy. It won't be too much of a shock," she reassured slightly. She hoped and gave a small smile. "I'll certainly attempt it. I'm sure the wine is lovely."
"Come, have a glass with me; we have much to discuss," she motioned to the seats on either side of the one she was certain Draco would take at the helm. She'd set a place for Lucius at her side, but even she knew better than to expect her husband.
She easily poured them a glass each, facing the brunette with her glass ahead of her. "To family," she offered in lieu of typical cheers.
Walking over to the table, taking her glass, and raising it to Narcissa with a slight nod. "To family."
Hermione took a cautious sip, making it seem as if she just wanted to taste the different notes of the wine.
Narcissa took a hearty sip, letting it linger on her tongue before swallowing it down. Drinking helped ease the dreadfulness of England.
"I'd be happy to help you if you wanted," she told the young woman. "Plan the wedding," she added. Her son could be a control freak, and she didn't even want to think of the other masculine presences with a desire to have a say. "Should I expect a traditional ceremony or something more...modern." Ever the diplomat, she kept her composure. Of course, she knew it was a union of convenience, and so far, the brunette was playing her part well. Much better than she would have expected.
The wine tasted perfectly fine and, as far as she could tell, hadn't been altered in any way. She took another good sip and smiled a little more. At least this bottle wasn't likely to be bottomless and get her into trouble. Before she could ask for clarification on the help, though, she got it and chuckled slightly. "I may need it and will not hesitate to reach out if I do." If she could help it, she would not be asking Narcissa Malfoy for any help in this wedding.
So far, Draco had been right. His mother didn't seem disgusted or angry that she was marrying her son. Seemed more than eager to help. "We are going to be following through with more traditional vows. We haven't had a chance to discuss them just yet because of how busy he's been. But he made sure I got to read over more traditional ceremonies since my parents had something much more modern when they were wed." And much more Muggle. And had more to do with love. But she just smiled politely as her stomach turned in knots.
"Lucius and I didn't get much of a say in our vows," she sighed, remembering her father leading discussions with Abraxas. Of course, anything he said was essentially whatever her mother had demanded, but that was often forgotten. "Mother was very exigent," she looked down at her ring, brushing her thumb around the main gem. "I'm glad you have a chance to decide your own and that he's given you the tools. I have the Black grimoire, if you ever want more...inspiration. Every family has their own personal flavor. Mine was more...matriarchal," she offered with a glimmer in her gaze. Certainly, they gave the men their belief in power, but Black women knew better. Bellatrix perhaps too open in her pavement of her own course.
She sipped at her wine as she took that in. At least Draco allowed her to have a say, and they would discuss things. Though he was the head of his line now, and she didn't exactly have someone to negotiate or make demands on her behalf. She'd read that in a book. It was all about what was desired for the union. Rarely love matches. At least in this world she was stepping into, no one expected it to be a love match, even if the other side might have if they didn't believe her cursed. "I'm glad as well, and I would appreciate that. The book he gave me only has so many examples."
Narcissa set her glass down and reached for one of the charms on her wrist, plucking a small silver book from the chain she wore. Once in hand, it produced a thick black tome, the crest of Black on its cover. "It'll find its way back," was all she said. It always did.
A hint more interest lit up her eyes as she saw how the woman procured the book from her wrist. It put her own illusion charms on her wrist to shame. That was a piece of magic she wanted to study. "Considering my limited experience with Black artifacts and magical items, I am not surprised."
"So, you and Draco," she smiled over her glass. "You're obviously not under the imperius curse," she eyed her. "What narrative are you planning to put out there before the wedding?" she asked.
Taking a seat properly, she crossed one leg behind the other and managed to blink a moment before she let out a slow breath. "I am not and can honestly say I'm not sure." She had been brainstorming it. But she wasn't sure how to present it to the public. A public that was already gossiping about it.
"Whispers run fast. Best to get that settled before you find yourself in front of the press," she pointed. It wasn't mean, just honest. Oftentimes, people had the two confused.
Draco was a strategist, but this was considered women's work, and even he had his limitations. "Stick close enough to the truth, and you'll find it hard for anyone to refute," she guided gently. Not many people had survived lying to the Dark Lord, and whatever game her son was playing, she hoped he knew what he was doing.
"I am quite familiar with how quickly they can run." She murmured. What could they possibly tell the press? Claim it was, in fact, a prisoner exchange, and during her holding at the manor, she was won over by his charm? Sounded ridiculous to her. No one would honestly believe that, would they? But she did know how easily people ate up certain headlines after all.
Taking another sip from the wine, she gave a slight nod of her head but didn't say a word. This helpfulness from Narcissa was something she wasn't accustomed to.
"Then you know your outing to a jeweler and a seamstress has already been page six material," she sipped her wine. "Hopefully, you two can hash whatever details you can tonight, and if all fails, you need to take control of the narrative." She was certain Draco wouldn't agree, but he wasn't here right now, and as the current Mrs Malfoy, she wasn't about to allow her one and only child to bring his own ruin. "Everyone loves a good romance. You, of all witches, should know how quickly your average housewife is swayed by the right article in the Prophet," the blonde smiled. It was nearly a decade ago now.
"I'll admit I haven't seen many Prophet's in my stay here, Mrs. Malfoy." She stated simply enough. Tucking one leg behind the other, she resisted the urge to look at the clock. If Draco didn't make it back soon and she was stuck for a whole dinner with his mother, she was going to want to murder him. Taking control of a narrative was something that she was familiar with, and she honestly grimaced a little at the reminder of how often her name had been in the news back in the fourth year. "Oh yes, I do remember quite keenly how quickly someone can be swayed by a careful headline and just the right number of details."
Narcissa liked this girl. Fourteen years had softened her. She could see that now. Even her upper lip didn't stiffen the way it used to, but her family would always be a priority. "I'll make sure that changes before I leave," she said simply. She couldn't have the girl blind, even if it meant asking forgiveness from her son of all people.
"If I know anything about you, it is that you are resourceful. I don't want to know the details. By binding yourselves, I know your fates are intertwined. I will always protect my son. I meant it when I said I was gaining a daughter," she finished. "You may not always like what I have to say, but I have years of being Mrs Malfoy, sister to his favorite lieutenant, wife of his most devoted. I am not your enemy, Miss Granger."
Hermione set down her wine glass and settled her hands into her lap as she gazed across the table at the other woman, mulling that momentarily. "I appreciate that, Mrs. Malfoy." She knew why he hadn't shown her, though. Suppose she had seen that Prophet her first few days here, she would have thrown haymakers again. There wasn't going backward. There was dying or going forward. She hadn't survived seven years to die now.
"If I always like everything someone says, I don't have room to improve, grow, or change someone's mind. The advice is noted, Mrs. Malfoy. I'll try to remember it." Even if she didn't believe it at the moment, Hermione had helped with the job that had killed Bellatrix, even if she hadn't gotten to be the one delivering the killing blow. She had tried to kill Draco ever since Bellatrix died. She wasn't sure how much she could believe Mrs. Malfoy...but she'd take the advice and use it like any intel she might get.
Everyone she had cared about, the Dark Lord had taken from her. Her sisters, cousins, husband, and now son. There was a reason she avoided the English countryside. It only brought pain.
One had to be a viper in the vipers' nest. She had to hope the girl before her knew how to be one.
When the doors opened, she rose to greet her son, impassible as he walked forcefully forward. “Mother,” he greeted, his mask in hand vanishing with dark smoke back to his quarters.
“Draco darling,” she seized his cheeks and pressed a kiss on either side. “You do know I dislike those robes at the dinner table,” she looked him up and down disapprovingly. “I doubt your fiancée would appreciate them at dinner any more than I do.”
She picked up her glass of wine as the door opened and took a long drink of the wine before she looked over at the blond, watching him as that mask disappeared again. Whatever job he had, it had probably been just as frustrating as the last one that had him home in the early hours of the morning.
"Welcome home, Draco," she offered with a bit of a smile, glancing at his mother and then back to him. She'd let them embrace. She wasn't sure how affectionate they were meant to be around company in his, soon to be their, home. "I do have to agree with your mother." She said it offhand, and there was a brief note of concern there before it was gone.
They'd have a chance to talk later. With his mother around, she was going to end up in his room to try and sell this further. Even if Mrs. Malfoy did seem to realize it was a marriage of convenience.
Draco held his mother in an embrace. She hated his robes? Good, she could feel them envelop her.
“Missed you too, Mother,” he smiled, stepping back to return the black robes to the closet as he eyed his partner.
Closing the gap, he took her hand and leaned in to kiss the corner of her lips. Part of him had wanted to claim her, if only to annoy his dear mother. He wasn’t a child, and this wasn’t a game. “Certainly missed you,” he offered huskily. Though everything was on point, his gaze lacked its usual warmth. “I hope you’ll forgive me,” he kissed her knuckles. “I’ll be sure to change before I find you next time.”
That light kiss to the corner of her lips surprised her a little, but she offered a bit more of a smile, playing into the role. "I should hope so. You'll have me to yourself after dinner," she promised as he kissed her knuckles, feeling a shiver roll down her spine. That was new. "I suppose I can forgive you this time. We do have company, after all."
This felt so strange. It had her stomach twisting in knots, and she wasn't sure how to think at how relieved she was that he was actually here now.
Beneath his breast, he felt his heart race and his throat dry. “I do have quite a few days to make up for,” he slicked his lower lip. He shouldn’t get himself excited. She wasn’t actually going to throw herself in his bed— but he wanted her to.
"You do indeed," she nearly purred the words, her voice dropping down for just him a moment as she looked up at him. As he took his seat after his mother cleared her throat, she had to hold back a chuckle. Well, this was interesting.
“We do.” The reminder was sobering, and he ignored the small throat-clearing his mother offered as he took a seat.
“Is father not feeling well?” He asked his matriarch.
“You know how he gets when he comes back to the manor,” she said, pouring her son a glass of wine and refilling the other two.
A small plate appeared before each of them with a first course.
Before he could speak again, his mother took the floor, daintily cutting through a thin slice of smoked salmon.
“I take it you’ve been out of reach,” she looked over her son. “At least a photo shoot between the two of you will easily support whatever narrative you spin. You certainly have the chemistry.”
Draco eyed his mother. She was ruthless but not wrong. “How’s Italy?” He steered her off the topic. “Seems the winery is producing well,” he tipped his glass towards her.
“Eye contact, Draco, you know the rules,” she kept her glass just out of his reach.
The blond chuckled. “French superstition, but if you fear father will disappoint further,” he indulged her as their glasses clinked.
Paying attention to what the both of them were saying, she took a bite of the food and had to keep herself from relaxing further. Seafood. That was something she hadn't had at the manor yet, and she had missed it.
I can promise that you'll want for nothing. he was certainly making good on that promise without even meaning to it.
The idea of a photo shoot almost made her grimace, but she ate, listening attentively. But she did glance over at Narcissa. "The wine is quite lovely. Pardon me for not saying so earlier, but I didn't want to take us off topic," she offered before taking another sip of wine.
Dinner with his mother was another gauntlet she had not been prepared for.
“I’m glad you enjoy it. I’ll have to have Giovanni send you some for the cellar,” she said easily, keeping the conversation on wine.
“Hopefully pleasant discussions,” Draco’s gaze went from his mother in warning and onto his partner, taking a few bites if only to escape commentary on his eating habits.
Narcissa’s expression was calmness personified. “I have nothing to gain by being mean to my soon-to-be daughter-in-law.”
“But,” Draco supplied for the woman.
“No buts,” she lied.
"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. I do appreciate that." She smiled charmingly enough before taking another bite of her first course. Though the warning glance from Draco reassured her some.
She noticed him eating more than usual and paid closer attention to that. At least he had stopped picking the first bite off of her plate for the time being.
"Your mother just wanted to ask about the ceremony, dear. Quite pleasant." Except for having to figure out what they were going to tell people.
“That explains that,” he shrugged at the black tome. It held a lot of Black family secrets. Some of the darkest curses he’d seen, and that was saying something.
His mother cleared her throat. “Someone has to advocate for your bride,” she said carefully. “Perhaps Pansy or Daphne could help. I’m certain they have a wish list of their own they might be willing to share.”
“I hardly think that’s appropriate.”
“They probably feel relieved negotiations were ceased,” she reminded pointedly. “You might be the most eligible on paper, but it takes a certain character to…”
“Enough,” his voice was clear. “We will be deciding our vows. I’m certain Hermione appreciates the book, but they will be ours.”
Narcissa swallowed and nodded, retreating as she realized she’d gone too far. “Of course,” she demurred. The epitome of the Pureblood matriarch, capable of resetting to the least offensive iteration with grace.
“Would it be acceptable to have dinner in the main dining hall tomorrow? Perhaps invite your friends…I rarely get to see Theo and Blaise.”
Draco’s jaw clenched, and he nodded. “Sure,” he allowed. She could meddle in their lives instead of his.
Looking over at the tome, she knew she would have to go over it carefully. And she was glad when Draco shut down Parkinson or Greengrass, giving her a list of things they might want in their own vows to whoever they married. Whoever their families deemed appropriate for them to marry.
"I appreciate your desire to help, Mrs. Malfoy. I can be a rather strong advocate for myself," she assured as she finished the first course and watched how they interacted carefully.
They were fascinating. It was give and take and then backtracking if a step too far had been taken. That was the part that she'd have trouble with. Hermione rarely backed down from anything. Including her own husband-to-be when he was in a foul mood if so far was anything to go off of.
"I'm sure Blaise will be happy about that." Not. He'd want to spend time with Luna before she had to go back and come up with a story about why she was gone. If they couldn't find a way to keep her.
Three more courses of small dishes passed, and Draco was glad his mother had kept whatever ideas she had to herself. He barely had the patience to deal with her antics, let alone brace himself for whatever she had discussed with his partner. He needed that ring already so she could have her wand back. At least then, he’d feel better about those kinds of situations.
By dessert, he was ready to tap out. It didn’t matter that it was his favorite chocolate mousse. He’d already forced himself too much to avoid more sharp exchanges.
“Fantastic dinner as always, Mother,” he praised, rising from his seat. “But I am retiring for the evening.” He looked at the brunette. “Join me when you’re ready. We can discuss some vows.”
The food was delicious, and she was able to eat many of the small dishes but couldn't finish the mousse. Her sweet tooth hadn't returned completely, and she hadn't had sweets for a long time. Finishing a glass of water rather than another glass of wine, she looked up at Draco with a smile. "I'll be there momentarily."
Letting Draco leave first, she took another bite or two of the chocolate before she smiled pleasantly. "It was lovely speaking with you, Mrs. Malfoy. But I think I am also going to retire for the evening."
She got up smoothly, gathering up her notebook and the Black family tome before retreating. If she had to guess, Draco was likely showering off whatever job he had gone on, which gave her time to go ahead and get things ready. The charade needed to continue, at the very least. And while his mother seemed happy, as long as Draco was safe, his father clearly wasn't pleased.
Lucius Malfoy being in the manor made her slightly more anxious than usual. Selecting one of her books from her bag that was still shoved in the closet. She picked out a few outfits and a few changes of clothes and set them down on the bed. Asking the house elf to find a place for those outfits in Draco's closet for the time being was simple enough, and she went to wash her face and then change.
All of her more comfortable sets of night clothes were gone. Destroyed with the rest of her clothing. So she had little choice than the satiny nightgown that went down to her knees with off-the-shoulder straps. It at least was more filled out now than it was when she arrived.
Entering Draco's room, she could hear the shower going, and she moved to sit on his bed, putting her notebook on one of the bedside tables before she started to read through the Black family tome.
Exhausted, Draco went through his usual routines, taking his time. It was a series of actions that kept him grounded with every lather and rinse. When he dried off and slipped on a silk robe to walk to his bed, he barely registered the minute changes to his room. Seeing her in his bed, he stopped dead in his tracks. The emerald garment she wore had him swallowing down.
Pulling back the sheets, he shed his robe and slid in, covering his lower half. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” He leaned to kiss the exposed part of her shoulder.
As he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, she glanced over at him with a chuckle. "We did need to discuss vows. Though you may be too tired for that, I see." Making demands or questioning him about Blaise and Luna didn't seem like the best idea at the moment. But the vows had to be discussed some.
Closing the Black family tome, she set it on the bedside. "And you did say that convincing your mother was something I'd have to do. Hardly convincing if I'm two rooms away."
Draco wasn’t about to complain. His arm snaked around her and pulled her in close. “We do,” he agreed lazily. “My parents seldom slept in the same bed. Even tonight, they’ve likely taken up their respective rooms. That being said," he kissed the crook of her neck. "You can sleep here… in that… any time.” He nipped under her ear. “Naked is also acceptable.” The whisper sinfully dark against her skin.
Hermione let him pull her in, pressing in a little closer herself. "Do they really?" It was somewhat of a foreign concept to her. Though she supposed that was why he said the sleeping arrangements would be up to her. She shivered at that kiss and had to close her eyes a moment, resisting the urge to tilt her head to allow him easier access to her neck. "Duly noted. Though I doubt any conversation about the vows would happen with me naked," she countered, taking the initiative to nip at his jaw.
“Even if you were, you’ll have to wait until I sleep for that,” he told her honestly. The past week, fielding his mother, he barely had his wits about him.
“We had life terms, fidelity, the wards, financial clauses, household duties and whatnot for the elves and bookkeeping…” Draco yawned, listing the ones he remembered. “Your list, which leads to secrecy vows,” he added, furrowing his brow.
Sliding under the blankets to settle in a bit closer to Draco, she thought about that. "A way to communicate between ourselves discreetly. I'd appreciate something about honesty since that til death do we part clause is actually literal in the wizarding world," she murmured, shaking her head, fighting back a yawn after his. "....I saw one in the Black family tome: Vow of Silence. Either of us could make the other incapable of sharing something but can also revert it consensually. Just strengthens the secrecy vows."
“Yeah,” nodded. “I think that can work. Maybe some magic enhancement to pull power from the other,” His voice was heavier. She felt warm against his skin. Even now, he was half hard from their proximity, but it was the most he could get. Once he woke, though, he knew exactly what he planned to do. “I don’t expect children, but I know heir clauses usually get added. If you’re in my bed like this, I’ll start taking infertility potions,” he added. Of all the crimes he’d committed and would likely continue to, he wouldn’t force her through childbirth.
Hermione let her fingers brush along his, staying in close proximity as she settled into bed, almost shuddering as that memory came back to the forefront. Wood had wanted to trap her with children. "If we don't put something in about children, your mother will never let us hear the end of it...a promise to try in those vows. But much later. Your family needs an heir, and with the fidelity vows we're putting in, it's not like you could have children elsewhere...It won't be anytime soon. Especially not after...." she trailed off, shaking her head as she grimaced.
Draco eyed her carefully. To try. They could try. And fail. But then she continued the statement. “You want to carry my heir?” He perked a brow. Fuck Wood, he wouldn’t let that asshole’s memory enter his quarters. They could discuss that another day. Preferably in a less pleasant room.
Hermione glanced up at him and tried not to fidget. "At the moment? No. Your mother will never leave us alone if you don't have an heir, Draco. Leaving the clause at try opens that possibility and will keep your mother happy until we figure that out ourselves. That's a lot to decide on a deadline."
“She is persistent,” he agreed and sighed. “Doubt I’ll make it long enough to fulfill my duties.” There was scorn and derision in his dark rumble of a laugh. “We’ll see as we go.”
"Persistent is one way of putting it," she sighed, yawning herself now as she let herself relax there beside him. "You've made it this far...And you won't be in it alone after that ceremony." If she couldn't kill him when she was on the opposing side, she'd be damned if You-Know-Who managed. Or anyone else on the opposing side of the insurgency.
It was a weird motivation, but at least it was a motivation that wasn't purely spite.
“Yeah?” He asked, eyes closing. “You gonna join me on the field?” The thought was almost laughable, but he wouldn’t stop her. If she could commit that far, he wouldn’t trap her in the kitchen like that other fucker wanted.
A sigh left her lips as she closed her eyes with a slight laugh, a bitterness to it. "For a chance at Amos Diggory? Quite possibly." It wasn't a no, and it wasn't a yes, but it was something. At least against Amos.
“Might be inclined to make it a family affair,” his voice a grumble against her skin. Before she could respond, he placed a finger to her lips. He wanted to say goodnight. Truly, he’d had every intention to until darkness took over, and he was out faster than any sleeping draught could manage.
She paused as he placed that finger to her lips, but then he was out like a light. She reached for his wand and, with a flick, had the rest of the lights, as few as they were, go out before putting it back. She stayed close to him, idly tracing a scar or two before sleep took her under. It wasn't as restful as the nights she'd wound up under him, but it was better than being alone.