The Art of War

“Is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?"
Friedrich Nietzsche

Hermione didn't want to get out of bed. Today would start the irreversible process of being bound to Draco Malfoy. A few short weeks after this and she wouldn't be a Granger anymore. She'd be a Malfoy. No distance in the world would keep her from that— would allow her to pretend it hadn't happened. The longer she could hold off, the better. Whatever dress made for her hung in her quarters, meant to surprise the man beside her in bed whenever she put it on. Part of the tradition of it all.

There would be countless members of wizarding high society in attendance to meet. No one knew if the Dark Lord would be making an appearance. What they did know was the inevitable flock of reporters and photographers present to document the day. Engagement photos were a must along with interviews to fuel the following weeks of papers. Everyone from her past was going to know, or at least be told, that she had seduced Draco. No further context to be given. Some of the finer details that people would ask to be kept away from others, at a feign of keeping privacy. The need for secrecy lest they give away any operatives risking their lives for the cause.

So, despite being awake now for half an hour and thinking that Draco was actually still asleep next to her, she stayed in bed, a slow sigh leaving her lips. After today she could have her wand back. Could travel more freely and do more of what she pleased. The books should be back and she could actually run and get the ones from her PO box, assuming they were there. She just had to get through today and this evening.

Draco's breath remained low and steady as he held her, refusing to give in to the waking hours. A few more minutes to enjoy the scent of her with his nose buried in her hair. His hand trailed her side and along her thigh, moving back along the inside of her thigh.

"Morning," he breathed, his warm breath meeting flesh as his touch avoided any reactive parts of her body in its exploration.

As his hand slowly trailed along her skin, she sighed with a slight shiver. His body was warm, and it almost made her want to lull back to sleep. Then he spoke, breathing into her hair. He had kept her close all night as if he actually cared for her. Obsession, she reminded herself. It would explain just how possessive he was of her. "Morning," she held back a yawn.

"Looks like we have mail," he sighed against her shoulder, noting the black box on the bedside table furthest from them. She'd have to move away, too far from his grasp than he wanted.

Gazing over at the bedside table, her nose wrinkled a little bit. Moving was a terrible idea, but she couldn't summon it to herself. He still had her wand. Holding back a grumble, she pulled away from him, scooting in the bed towards the edge so she could reach the black box. She drew back to him, covering her mouth as she yawned. Her hair tussled yet manageable from sleep. "Seems we do..." We. What an odd word to use for the both of them.

Nestled on velvet, a set of matching rings and diamonds looked up at them. He leaned over her shoulder to see the final work. It was beautifully crafted. Elegant yet modern, traditional, and then not. Their diamonds matched, likely cut from the same piece through the middle to further represent their union. Plucking hers, he sat up and admired it for a moment.

"It's going to want a taste," he warned. He could feel it humming in his hands, begging for blood and union.

The rings were gorgeous. So well done. Her own had so many smaller stones around the diamond in place. Them being here meant she could take off the placeholder, but it meant that ring would be on her hand from that moment forward. She sat up properly and looked at his ring still in the box as he admired her own.

"It won't hurt nearly as much as other things I went through. Unless it solders itself to the bone, I can handle it pricking my finger," she said with a slight shrug.

He smiled and shook his head. If this part were that painful, there wouldn't be many weddings in his world. No, it was far more insidious. "Betrothals like this won't solder to bone," he nearly rolled his eyes. "Will you be my betrothed?" He asked, extending a hand so she would place hers in his.

"I didn't think they would," she offered as she looked at his hand. The placeholder ring on her finger would have to be removed and replaced, but she would let him handle it. She chewed at her bottom lip for a moment, carding a hand through her hair to push it back from her face before she put her hand in his. "Yes." The word was quiet, almost said on an exhale as she tried to stay relaxed.

Gently, he pried the family heirloom away, letting it fall onto the bed to slip the new ring in place. Though it just sat like ordinary jewelry, he could already feel the hum in his left arm, begging to answer its call. Kissing her palm, he let her go to present his left hand. They were equal. They would remain equal through this partnership.

Watching the other ring fall away, she could feel a thrum of magic up her arm as the new ring was placed. How instantaneously would some of these vows snap into place? She plucked his ring from the box and looked up at him, taking his hand in her own. "And will you be my betrothed?" She echoed the question like he seemed to want, feeling anxiety twist through this whole process. Would it 'get a taste' once his ring was in place?

"Yes." The singular word was low between a hum and a whisper, keeping his gaze on her as he let her repeat the motion he had done. The closer the white gold neared him, the stronger he could feel its magic. There was no turning back, and though he sat calmly, naked in his bed, his heart was hammering in his chest.

The one word sealed their fates as much as these rings did. No turning back. She carefully slid the white gold onto his hand, all the way to the base of his finger, before letting go, watching their hands for a moment rather than his face. Her own heart hammered in her chest while her stomach twisted into knots.

Weaving his fingers through hers, he kept her there a moment, leaning forward. His nose brushed against hers. Gently, he pressed a kiss to her lips. "They need a bit of blood. Wand or knife?" he asked. He supposed a needle could do, but how boring compared to their past?

As his nose brushed hers, the gentle kiss felt more like a declaration of true emotions. She kissed him back gently and kept her hand in his, fingers laced together. "...Knife," she murmured quietly. Might as well start this the same way his obsession had started with her. With a knife.

Without letting go of her hand, he reached the other one to summon a dagger from the wall. It settled in his hand and brought it between their joined palms. He pressed his index to the tip of his blade, holding it up as a bead of garnet built up, waiting for her to do the same.

Sitting here, naked in his bed, with a damn knife while their hands were joined together, she couldn't believe life had led her here. Taking in a deep breath, she pressed her index finger to the tip of the blade, mirroring what he was doing, letting the drop of blood well on her finger.

"My promise to you," he pressed the drop to her diamond. There was a glow as it absorbed the offering. She would feel a prick beneath to take from them both. He waited for her to repeat the motion on his.

Feeling the prick under her ring, she almost grimaced. Still, she pressed her finger to the diamond on his own ring. The books said the verbal component was necessary, something about following the consent of the witch and wizard entering into the contract. At least it wouldn't just accept blood without the words. "My promise to you."

And so it was done. Stealing her hand, he brought the harmed finger to his lips, sucking it in, causing her to gasp. The contract was already in place, but that sight had him wanting a taste, too. It had his tongue stroking the underside of her index greedily, punctuating it with a kiss. “We should get ready before that knife gives me any ideas,” he slicked his lips. “Your wand should be with your dress.”

Her eyes widened as she watched him, a small spark of desire rolling through her as a shiver rolled down her spine. What the hell? When she trusted him more, perhaps she'd let him get ideas. They'd have to start trusting each other more. And for better or worse, he hadn't lied to her. Not since she got here.

"You'll keep that knife away from me, Draco," she said sternly before she got out of bed and pulled on undergarments as well as pulled a robe on. She was not going to be wearing a ton of different outfits today. She'd flit through his study to her room and get ready.

“Pity,” he vanished the offending item. He had more, and for better or worse, he would respect her boundaries. He watched her grab her knickers and enjoyed the sight.

"When should everyone be here?"

“Photographers will be here at ten. Something about lighting in the garden,” he shrugged.

A sigh left her lips. "Of course....then I'll see you sooner rather than later. I gather this is going to be an all-day sort of affair?"

"Pictures, reporters, perhaps an intermission before the festivities." He certainly hoped he'd get a moment. At least the press wouldn't be allowed in the house, only outside to catch a glimpse of attendees. If there was one thing he and his mother agreed on in regard to the manor, it was to limit the access of their ancestral home to those who liked to dig. There were too many issues that could arise from strangers poking in dark places. Especially now.

A sigh left her lips, and she nodded her head, closing her eyes a moment to compose herself. The last time she had to deal with reporters was when she blackmailed Skeeter to publish that exclusive in the Quibbler. A lifetime ago. And before that it was dealing with Skeeter during the Triwizard Tournament. "Here's hoping we get at least a chance to breathe then," she murmured. She didn't glance over her shoulder to look at him again as she crossed through the study and to her own rooms to get dressed.

The dress that waited for her was lovely. A deep midnight blue that was nearly black with sparks of silver for the constellations and stars through the skirt of the dress. Ever so slowly, the constellations shifted, showing both of their birth constellations against the canvas of its skirt, shifting in place on the fabric. The sleeves were see-through until they got to her forearms, blending into that dark midnight blue with sparks of stars. It hid her scar from view, which meant she wouldn't have to deal with the serpent bracelet now that she had her wand back.

Perhaps when time passed, she could look at it without thinking about it being around Lucius Malfoy's throat. Maybe then, she'd be able to actually wear it again. Dropping the robe, she slipped on the dress. The midnight blue had a dark band that mimicked straps on the sides of her shoulders, with a plunging neckline, allowing a decent glimpse at cleavage. The outfit came with a different necklace set with black iridescent stones that could hang just above and frame her collarbone. The number hugged her form perfectly. Most importantly of all, it had a place for her to store her wand.

Picking it up felt like having a piece of herself back. With a quick flick of its length, her hair was done in the perfect bouncy waves and ringlets that recalled the Yule ball—pinned back from her face so she couldn't fiddle with any of the chestnut strands. The securing piece looked like spun starlight and had a small hair stick, keeping it all carefully pinned in place. Stepping into a pair of black heels and doing a subtle lipstick and light eye make-up, she stared at herself in the mirror again.

There was a healthy glow to her cheeks—a fullness to her curves, her cheeks, and a luster to her hair. The Prophet would likely enjoy pointing out how well Draco took care of his witch. She had to hope Harry would get that note before someone gave him a copy of the Prophet to come. Charming the dress quickly so that none of Crookshanks' hair could stick to it, she stepped out into the study, smoothing her hands over the fabric of the skirt.

Draco hadn’t needed long to get dressed, his short hair easily styled without fuss. His dress robes were similar to many in his collection. A tasteful blend of blacks and blues he knew would highlight her dress. She would shine, as was expected of such an event. His station and name would attract attention, yet everything about her would do just as much. Though his household had issued a press kit on limitations and expectations for the media presence, he braced himself for attempts to bypass precautions set in place.

Though he'd mostly skipped breakfast, he had indulged in a strong cup of tea. Giving her her wand had been a gamble. With as many people in the house as there would be, his bracelet trinket was hardly anything to properly defend her if anything went south. He had to trust that she either wouldn't try to assassinate him or that that portion of the vows would be strong enough the next time they met face to face. Every minute bringing them closer to a photo shoot meant to convince the entire isles of the legitimacy of their union made war and torture feel like a walk in the park.

A few moments before their scheduled time, he stood by the cathedral windows giving unto the gardens. Gaze following the cameras as they set up, various publications fighting over prime locations. He knew it would be a mix of handhelds and more fixed. Planned and candid. He just had to trust their chemistry.

She took a moment or two to pet her cat, have a scone and a cup of tea, and then prepared herself for the hectic day they were in for. First, photos and some interviews, and then the festivities proper. At least at the festivities, he wasn't likely to leave her alone for long. Not with how he seemed to want to make sure that no one touched her. If this had occurred under different circumstances, she would have thought that it was out of a sweet, protective urge rather than the possessiveness it was.

Stepping off the stairs and making her way over to the windows by the garden, she stopped a few steps back from him, feeling a lot more secure with her wand tucked away on her person. "This is bound to be an experience," she drawled, resisting the urge to pick at her hair or the jewelry. She glanced down at the ring that glistened on her finger before glancing back up at him again.

"No picture will be published without approval," he said, not looking away just yet. It could easily become a circus, and he hoped it wouldn't. Finally, he pried his gaze away to assess his partner.

"You look...stunning," he concluded, smoothing a thumb over his lower lip as he studied her. The word didn't feel sufficient, and the way their constellation shifted and twined on her fabric, mirrored in his tie and across lapels and other ornaments, he couldn't help but appreciate them. It was a pity the seamstress was being held in his dungeons. They'd have a chat before long, and she'd have to make a long, hard choice.

"Whenever you're ready," he offered gently. A Malfoy was never late. They arrived precisely when they intended.

"Well, that's reassuring. Would have liked that assurance the last time I wound up in a paper," she attempted to joke, butterflies taking up residence in her stomach. The way he looked over her attire had her fingers smooth over the fabric of the skirt before she glanced back up at him. She had a feeling this might be some of the seamstress's last work, depending on what happened now. Another person tortured due to her, it would seem.

A sigh left her lips with a bit of a chuckle. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be," she admitted as she closed the space between them and took his arm, getting herself to smile a little bit more. The later they were, the more gossip some of those reporters would likely speculate in their articles.

"Your love affairs do seem to make it on the first page," he smirked, teasing her. "Good thing my family has kept investing in the media," he drawled, pulling her in closer as she took his arm. She was ready, it was all that mattered.

He wasn't wrong. So many of her 'love affairs' made the front page. Even when there wasn't much to report on at the time; hopefully, none of those would come up today during interviews, but she was sure they would. Everyone liked gossip. And what was a Malfoy choosing a Muggleborn but good gossip? Even if it was a union blessed by Him.

Together, they crossed the stone balcony to a set of stairs. Lush flowers and greenery growing happily on either side, giving the once austere angle of the house a more romantic appeal under the cresting sun. Once at the bottom, a young blonde witch in lavender robes greeted them.

"Mr Malfoy," she introduced. "Ms Granger," she smiled. "I'm Candice Kelvin with Witch Weekly. I'll be with you every step of the way should you require anything. I was thinking we could take pictures coming down the stairs here, move onto the rose garden, and then the various locations the crew have chosen. Should only be an hour of your time."

Draco nodded. "Back up then?"

"Half-way should be plenty; get that feel of a grand entrance," she beamed before barking orders to the man beside her, camera in hand.

Hermione almost arched a brow but managed not to and simply nodded. Watching as she barked out orders, she and Draco went back up the steps. She lightly squeezed his arm. If she hadn't walked the manor in heels for the last few days she'd been here, she'd be more afraid of falling. Instead, she just felt nervous.

One hour. She could handle one hour of all the photographs.

Having reached that middle step, he took a moment to look over the brunette at his side. They likely wanted some candids. Taking her hand, he easily shifted her closer, their left sides towards the camera. Every shot would need to show that set of rings. There was a warmth to his gaze as he eyed her, a fondness that came easily when they were alone.

Hermione moved where he guided easily enough. Her fingers brushed his and at that warmth in his eyes as he looked at her, she blushed lightly as she smiled a bit more naturally. Pretend like they weren't being watched. Let the chemistry that she had with him, as questionable as it was, guide her actions. Easy enough. When he looked at her like that, smiling at him was easy.

"Oh yes, there!" A woman's voice came from the bottom of the steps. "A few steps down, same intensity," she asked of them.

Rather than being formally on his arm, she laced their fingers together for a moment as they took a few more steps down, going slow so the photographer could get those shots, her eyes solely on the blond for the moment.

Another step down, and he couldn't stop himself from brushing his fingertips against her cheek, leaning in as though to brush a kiss to her lips. He wanted to. The longer he lingered, the harder it was to pull away. It didn't matter how much Candice cheered for more. She barely registered in any of his motions. He wondered how much of it was him and how much was brought on by the ring happily humming on his fingers at the proximity.

Hermione felt that same draw to him that he felt. As he leaned in, his lips nearly touching hers, she looked up at him. The blush lingered in her cheeks, part of the reason she hadn't added blush to her make-up earlier, and her hand came up to lightly trace along his jaw. She could tell that Candice was enjoying the shots she was getting, not urging them down the steps again yet. She took it a step further and leaned in, lightly and briefly brushing her lips to his.

The moment he brushed her lips, he couldn't stop from claiming her in an exchange he tried to subdue. He did his best to keep calm, and not be as demanding as usual. Keeping it chaste. They didn't need to oversell it. A few heartbeats later, he pulled back, his fingers still on her cheek.

"Perfect, absolutely perfect!" Candice praised them, nearly skipping with joy.

It wasn't as heated as their usual, not as demanding. And yet, this made her blush more than that. She shoved those thoughts away and smiled at him as she drew his hand slowly off of her jaw and guided him with her down a few more steps.

Of course, it was perfect. Physical chemistry wasn't their problem, it seemed. It was everything else. But they could sell this well enough.

More pictures were taken on the stairs, and then they were ushered towards the blood-red and white roses that grew in manicured perfection. Plucking a white one, he silently cut the thorns from the stem and offered it to his betrothed. Though he had given her flowers as was expected, this was more calculated. A preemptive measure to avoid someone else trying to push the action and risk pricking her finger. It would be a pity to start the day with bloodshed.

Easily going to the garden properly, she would have likely reached for a red rose. Red had been a color that she was rather fond of if only in part due to her House back in school. It still reminded her of the blood that had welled on her arm or that she had spilled through. White was the safer option. As he passed her the flower, she smiled and took it, bringing it up to inhale the scent even as she kept her eyes on him. All a performance for those cameras.

From there, they were guided by the crew on how to stand and when to smile. Draco held her in different ways. Pressing her back to his chest, close-ups of their rings. A few shots with the peacocks in the background parading about on their rounds. For an hour, they smiled and preened, utilizing their chemistry to woo an entire nation.

Before they wrapped up, Draco dipped her as if they had been dancing, the manor looming over them as he met her lips. She gasped against his lips, her grip tightening on him before he kissed her. This time, he refused to hold back, his tongue coercing hers as their surroundings cheered the exchange on.

The peacocks honestly would have gotten her attention if they hadn't been entertaining the photographers. All of these photos clearly looked like they were a couple madly in love. At least pretending wouldn't be too difficult while in public.

The first stroke of his tongue had her parting her lips for him, answering his kiss with her own as her fingers stroked along the back of his neck, feeling the scratches under the glamour.

Draco kept her there longer than the photographers needed. The hand on the small of her back gripped more firmly as he tried not to lose himself in the moment. The fire spread through his veins and demanded more. Even as he began his retreat, he brushed his nose to hers, catching her gaze with the heat of his own.

Hermione could honestly say the man was insatiable and seemed intent on making her the same way. As he lifted her back up and pulled away, her nose brushed his, and her gaze met his. That fire and heat in his almost stole her breath, putting that blush right back in her cheeks after it had been gone for a good portion of the shoot.

There was clapping nearby. Annoying praises, he wanted to silence. Especially when she blushed so prettily for him. “I think their hour is up,” he smirked.

"I think it is. On to interviews before the soirée," she answered him quietly with a bit of a smile for him as she tried not to appear nervous. "I look forward to seeing how the pictures turned out," she said a bit louder, ignoring their praises but putting the pressure on with that a little.

“That was hot,” Candice exclaimed, fanning herself. “Definitely no lack of chemistry between the two of you,” she grinned and sobered at Malfoy’s ice-cold stare.

“Did you have a preference in location for the interview? I’ll be joined by two other colleagues from the Daily Prophet as well as the WWN.”

“The house is being prepared for tonight’s festivities, but there are tables and seats just beyond the rose garden,” he offered, guiding them away, Hermione on his arm.

Hermione almost snorted as the woman fanned herself, though she did look up at her betrothed with a bit of mirth. "Glad it's so obvious," she sounded at least a little amused despite her partner's frigid expression for others. At least that hadn't changed.

Briefly, she wondered if the peacocks were well maintained enough that they wouldn't get out. They were such interesting creatures and she hadn't seen Petrus since her walk with Luna. But better not to ask now.

The chairs and tables set out just beyond the garden were lovely, providing a nice place to sit. They seemed to have already been set up for an interview—two chairs on one side, three or four on the other of each table. Allowing space and allowing the couple to sit close together.

Once under the canopy, he didn’t sit until she was comfortably settled, sinking into the chair beside her. His hand sought hers, the only way they could properly touch. He’d look into plush settees as alternative seating in the future.

Soon enough, all three reporters settled, quills at the ready.

A first one spoke, a smart-looking middle-aged wizard—turquoise robes and clear glasses that sat on his nose without needing to sit on his ears. “The UK is waiting for bated breath. The Dark Lord’s lieutenant and a member of not only the former claimed Golden Trio but a member of the insurgency, how does that even happen?”

Draco gave a small, one-sided, closed smile. “Very carefully,” he drawled. “It’s no secret Hermione and I have met on the battlefield, wands and knives at each other’s throats,” he brushed his thumb against the back of her hand. “Perhaps there was subtext in our respective techniques I didn’t quite grasp until she decided to seduce me in her attempts,” he gave her a look, allowing her a moment to interject if she wished. Perhaps they should have rehearsed, but there had been little time.

As odd as it was, she took comfort in his hand, holding hers with his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. Just stick to the story they were going with, which meant playing into the seduction aspect. The reporters did actually seem a little surprised when it seemed like she had initiated it.

The look from Draco had her glance back up at him with a slight giggle. "I even surprised myself with that move. It was a gamble that seemed to finally get his attention." At least that was true, and it had the reporters chuckle a little.

"So you pursued him first?" Another reporter in canary yellow robes asked, seemingly having a few more follow-up questions. "How did you prove it wasn't some trap?"

A small smile curved her lips, and she chuckled a little. "I pursued how I could. Don't want it to sound one-sided." She glanced back up at Draco before looking back at the reporter. "What other way? Leaving information where I knew he'd find it to prove I wasn't going to attempt to drag him back to the leadership in the insurgency. Dangerous tactic, of course. But worth it."

The lies came easily enough. She'd spent years playing pretend. She'd likely spend even more doing so now that she was here.

“I did so enjoy her presents,” he agreed. “A member of leadership left for my taking eventually gave me the leverage I required to safely extract her. Her side didn’t see the deception until it was completed.”

The quills scribbled rapidly along the parchment as the reporters gathered the information. The reporter from Witch Weekly tried not to fidget as she glanced at Ms. Granger.

"Now, I have to ask, and apologies for how it sounds, but there has been some speculation that this is continuing your trend from school to associate yourself with powerful or famous wizards. Care to comment?"

Rather than laughing, she raised a brow at the reporter. "I rather think if that was my angle, I wouldn't have waited seven years to try and seduce him." The look she gave was pointed, but her attention smoothly returned to her fiancé. "Fighting for seven years created tension, understanding, and, dare I say, respect for the other's skill. Throw in our chemistry, and is there any doubt as to how this happened?"

Her stomach knotted. She'd much rather they turned their attention to wedding questions than this. But she knew the reporters needed their gossip.

"I'd hardly call a teenager that was unfairly placed in the limelight for a task he failed at, and a quidditch player with one too many concussions powerful. Everyone gets their fifteen minutes of fame eventually." His voice held a bit of warning. "In any event, my betrothed is right. Our exchanges certainly held tension.

"My apologies," Candice shifted, but her quill moved all the same. "Your Union is definitely setting the community abuzz, any details you can spare?"

Draco could almost feel his partner's discomfort. "We can't unveil too much, but it will be in a few weeks; the location will be disclosed to guests, and we've opted to go with traditional vows," he supplied, keeping things vague. "As for designers, a list will be provided at a later date. Though I do believe you've chosen someone for your dress?" he asked. Likely the same sorceress that was tucked in his dungeon. Perhaps she'd see another day.

Well, Draco certainly wasn't wrong about Krum. The poor man had far too many concussions in his lifetime, and all due to Quidditch. Tension was something their exchanges held, but she wasn't sure how much sexual tension was there before she had tried to seduce him.

Traditional vows would cover a lot of what they were dealing with and hopefully answer quite a few questions. Though, as he turned to her with that question, she saw the opportunity she was given to keep that seamstress alive a bit longer. "Yes. Madeline Niles of Twilfitt & Tattings. The design is almost complete. But for very obvious reasons, I can't go sharing details about the dress," she offered and gave a sideways glance towards Draco. Making it almost seem like he might have been trying to steal glimpses of the dress.

The moment the name was spoken, Draco knew his hands were now tied to some respect, and he could deal with it. At least until the next dress was complete. The three quills scratched away happily at that.

Draco met her gaze, smirking at her statement as though she'd seen right through him. "I'm certain it will be worthy of you, darling," he brought her hand to his lips.

The kiss to the back of her hand had her smile gently at him with a bit more of a smile. "Oh, it will be. I can't wait to see your reaction to it," she chuckled.

Quills scratched at parchment over that, seemingly enjoying the banter that the two of them had back and forth wise.

"Well, we can't wait to hear the details of the nuptials. It's not every day that we have our very own star-crossed lovers. And with a happy ending at that," the witch in yellow robes added with a bit of a giggle. "We do so love the constellations you two are sporting. So posh."

"Thank you," Hermione said charmingly, keeping her hand in Draco's since that was as close as she could get in these chairs.

Draco already braced himself to see her. The unknown would eat at him, though he supposed it didn't matter. It would end like every other garment she wore. Strewn on his floor with her writhing in his bed.

"You may have to wait on the details," he said. "After the ceremony, I'm hopeful for a very much deserved honeymoon." He wasn't sure where yet, and he wouldn't announce it.

"I think we have time for one more question," he allowed, taking back control of the exchange.

A honeymoon. She hadn't even really thought about that. Hadn't thought that they'd get to travel and that it would go back to business as usual. But that didn't fit the narrative that they put forward. Even if she had no idea what she'd do with that undivided attention.

"And don't ask about where. It's a secret," she drawled with a bit of a grin, knowing that would make people speculate but that no one would get the right answer.

The reporters eyed each other, trying to find a question before the man in turquoise spoke up again. "Considering all of the strife that has been between you, being on opposing sides of a war, how are you both going to continue to contribute to this new order in the wizarding world, and are you working towards any form of change? What are your goals?"

The question had Hermione blink, a little surprised at the deeper question. She had thought everything would be more surface-level. "Not the kind of question I expected," she offered with a small smile. "You'll have to give me a moment."

"Of course. Take your time. It is a bit of a loaded question. But my editor wanted at least one heavy hitter." He explained, hoping not to get the ire of the lieutenant.

Draco's gaze hardened, looking over the journalist in question. It certainly hadn't been cleared, but it wouldn't be easily dismissed. The Dark Lord wouldn't be pleased, but then he rarely was when it came to the press.

"The same way we have been for quite some time. Hermione has brought invaluable intelligence to the table," he said with a shrug. "At the moment, we're incapable of disclosing sensitive information, but the people of the United Kingdom should see this as an opportunity to be on the right side of things," he smiled. "As much as I'd love to entertain you further, my betrothed and I do have a party to attend. A member of staff will direct you to where you may greet guests as they arrive, and there will be no questions outside of those that have been approved." His voice held a warning, more so as I rose to his feet and offered the brunette his arm.

Hermione did take a moment to mull it over. That hardened look from Draco had her sure that the reporter, or at least the reporter's editor if not the reporter themselves, would be getting a visit they didn't want. Though she allowed Draco to answer before meeting the reporter's gaze.

"A lot of damage has been done with the fighting. Forging a path forward is what I intend to help with. The Malfoy family has been known for their charitable works, and I plan to do just that to help the wizarding community continue to recover. I feel it's only right that I do after helping cause so much of the chaos that ensued. So, while we won't be sharing sensitive information," she said as she rested her hand on her betrothed's arm, about to stand. "Rest assured that we will continue to do what is best for the wizarding community to keep our ways alive," she said simply.

It was vague, it was empowering to the Malfoys, it supported the current regime, and it made her feel sick to her stomach. But it also implied she'd be aiding the Malfoys in what they did. Standing, she tucked her arm into his and stepped closer to Draco with a charming enough smile, though her own eyes were a bit colder, a warning as much as her betrothed's expression was. "Do enjoy greeting the guests."

Stepping away with Draco, she kept her shoulders relaxed, head held high, and tried to stay as relaxed as possible.

At the end of the day, Draco knew he would pay for this. Even if he answered exactly as his master had wanted, even if she had left no shade of grey, he knew he had to brace himself.

Once they were out of earshot, he kept her close and leaned in. "You were perfect," he praised. She wouldn't need to worry, and she had done everything he could have asked of her.

He was almost afraid to cross the threshold and be told to attend something or another. He needed a moment to breathe. It had him slip a finger between his neck and his collar.

A slow sigh left her lips as he kept her close and praised her quietly. She squeezed his arm gently and looked up at him. "Thank you." That last question had left her floored, and the way she answered made her even more nervous.

As they stood at the threshold, she almost chewed at her bottom lip and glanced up at him. "Should grab a drink before the guests start arriving," she offered, trying to give them both a chance to try and clear their heads before they had to go to another situation where they played pretend.

He nodded. "How stiff?" he asked. Whatever she wanted to ease her, he would provide. Though he would happily grant her a potion if she required it, he didn't dare state it again. She'd refused once, and as a former Gryffindor, he doubted she would agree to it if he did.

Instead, he led her through the doors and towards a sideboard in the adjoining sitting room that held a small bar. A mix of wines and hard liquors.

"Stiff. Not bubbles. I'm sure I'll have quite a lot of bubbles over the course of this celebration of our engagement," she murmured, following him into the sitting room with the small bar. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she just wanted to get through this event in one piece. The only upside was that she was getting closer to Blaise and Theo, so she could at least talk to them as well.

How many people would she be forced to socialize with? And how many people from the former inner circle were going to make snide, backhanded comments all day? She already longed to just curl up in bed with her cat.

Draco let her sit and moved to get a good three fingers of whiskey in two crystal tumblers. He paused a moment, taking another breath of composure before finding his place beside her. He knew this couldn't be easy, and now they were in too deep.

"Here," he set the cup in her hand and took a long sip of his own.

For a moment, he just sat still. Where he might have made himself comfortable, he didn't bother. There'd be no room for it in the foreseeable future. No room for weakness. He knew that.

"Tonight's going to be hard." There was no way to sugarcoat it. "I won't leave your side, and if you need a moment, feign discomfort, I'll have Blaise or Theo escort you somewhere to take a breather."

Hermione took that seat and took in a deep breath, closing her eyes a moment. This was difficult, and all she wanted to do was leave. They couldn't do that. The rings were on, already starting to trigger vows that would become even more inescapable once they exchanged them aloud at the wedding.

Taking the cup, she took a deep drink and tried to keep her expression cool, blank, calm. She'd have to smile a lot, have to actually engage and chat. "Hard seems like an understatement," she tried to sound amused, but it fell flat as she took another sip of the drink. Liquid courage. Something that actually felt lacking for once in her life.

This didn't feel like bravery. It felt like insanity. It felt like selfishly saving her own skin rather than being brave. Being brave would have been facing death in the eye and being willing to go through with it. Maybe the hat had judged poorly, or the war itself had changed her more than she realized.

"Feigning discomfort shouldn't be too difficult if I need to." It was bluntly honest. The whole situation was uncomfortable.

"Sticking the tip of your tongue to the top of your palate behind your teeth relaxes the jaw," he offered. "Stand as tall as you can; if you can't make eye contact, look at their nose; it'll appear like the real deal. Keep your chin up, and try not to fidget," he went through the list his mother used to run him through. "I'm sure you already know most if not all of those," he added in lieu of an apology. Every little bit could help, and he did mean it. He would support her.

Draco took another drink, sorting through the thoughts in his mind, dispersing them to ensure that nothing could be taken as a whole. Little boxes hidden in secluded corners of his inner maze. The occlumency had that cool glaze cover his silver hues, creating that distance he shrouded himself in.

Relaxing her jaw was the only tip that she hadn't used before. There had been countless nights her jaw had been sore from her just grinding her teeth or getting her jaw tensed from the day's failures or frustrations. But she gave a slight nod of her head. "I know most, but not all....It's appreciated, Draco," she offered with a faint smile before she took another sip.

Part of her wanted to scream, but she took in a deep breath and started to compartmentalize. Carefully organizing her thoughts so she could play this role. Even if things bothered her, made her skin crawl or her stomach heave, she had to pretend like they didn't. Had to remember their story and her claim that would keep her parents out of this. All of it was a careful house of cards that could topple at any moment.

Many words died on his tongue. He could predict the unfolding of the night all he wanted, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Instead, he drank deeply. "You can look forward to that dress on my floor," he teased lightly. It was the only thing he could focus on that didn't make his stomach protest.

A bit of a snort left her at that as she looked over at him. "I may just pass out after this. Not sure if I'll have the energy for anything else," she admitted before taking another sip. There wasn't much left. And as soon as the drink ran out, she knew that they'd have to go and cater to their guests.

"Hmmm, I guess I'll take the brunt then," he countered with a wolfish grin. It was easier to lie to himself. Something would happen. He could feel it. Polishing off his drink, he sent the tumbler back to the board for someone to deal with and offered her his arm. He wouldn't leave her side if he could help it. By now, he was certain their guests were present and that all that was missing was their entrance down the stairs and into what most would consider the current elite of society.

She rolled her eyes with a hint of a smile before she downed the rest of the whiskey. Putting the glass down where he did, she took his arm and stood up. After everything else she had been through, she could handle this. How she'd be after the fact was debatable, but she could handle it. There wasn't another option.

That stretch of hall towards the grand staircase that led to the ballroom felt longer than it was. Going into battle was easier than this. He disliked this part of his role though he played the role seamlessly. At the doors, he took a breath and waved his hand to open them. When they passed through, he felt every gaze on them, following as they made their descent into the crowd.

The click of her heels echoed in her ears like a curse. An accusation of what the hell she was doing on his arm and why she hadn't tried to fight harder against it. Guilt, blame, and shame swirling in her mind that she shoved down like everything else. As soon as that door opened, a small smile curved her lips as she stayed tucked in close to her fiancé, staying on his arm and taking the stairs down slowly, not focusing on the eyes to the best of her ability.

By the time they reached the glossed hardwood floor, the crowd parted for them, sucking them into their depths. From a distance, a clink resounded and his mother’s voice brought the attention off them for a small reprieve.

“Welcome,” she greeted genuinely. “We’re so pleased to celebrate the betrothal of our son with you all.”

Glasses of champagne were brought to the couple as Narcissa began encouraging the gathering into a cheer.

“To the happy couple and their upcoming union!”

Too soon, the attention was back on them. The space around them reduced as people began engaging them in conversation.

Hermione was glad for that small moment of a reprieve, taking the glass of champagne that was brought to her with a charming enough smile. As the crowd cheered and everyone toasted their upcoming nuptials, she took a sip from her glass.

There were people that came up to exchange pleasantries, more congratulating Draco than her, and a few looks made her rather glad that this particular dress obscured her marks from view. Because several of them kept looking at her forearm as if they were hopeful to see the scars. It made her itch to grab her wand.

Despite that, she thanked them, easily said hello, and tried not to meet the gazes directly of those that she had hexed within inches of their life. Because of course they were here too.

“I always knew you’d make a statement with your betrothal, Malfoy, but even I’m shocked,” a familiar clipped voice came his way. Pansy sported a short bob that hardened her features, her emerald evening gown slit from her thigh down.

“Parkinson,” he nodded.

“I suppose I can support this,” she eyed between the two of them. “At least now mother will stop pushing for us… so fifth year,” she shrugged with near revulsion.

“Not that it would have happened,” he chuckled. “Always valued our friendship too much.”

“And yet you don’t write,” she sniffed. “Perhaps I need a new friend,” she turned her sights on the brunette.

That voice wasn't one she'd heard in years. Ages. Back when the girl in question had always been hanging onto Malfoy at every turn, from what she could recall.

"Lovely gown, Parkinson," Hermione complimented easily enough, almost raising a brow at the fact that the pair hadn't actually been betrothed. Or at least promised. Interesting.

Glancing up at Draco, she gave a slight shake of her head. "That I find surprising given how close the two of you were," she glanced back at Pansy, seemingly considering for a moment. "I do find myself in need of new friends..."

She remembered her betrothed talking about getting Pansy to be a bridesmaid. Might as well make friends now.

“We were thick as thieves,” she agreed, and there was a forlorn quality to her tone. “Then he became a git,” she took a stab at him. “But there when it mattered.” The way she looked at her old school friend showed a past. “I’ll expect an owl,” she turned to the brunette. “We can catch up over a bottle or two of wine.” She smiled. “Maybe schedule a mani-pedi.”

She glanced up at her fiancé, considering him for a moment before she looked back at the other brunette. "I'll make sure to send you an owl. A bottle or two of wine and a mani-pedi both sound amazing. It's been a while since I've properly pampered myself." And she would likely need to with all of the wedding planning that was about to happen.

“Sounds like a date, which…” she looked at a small gathering near a wizard in the distance. “I might have finally found one myself,” she bit her lower lip and was quickly on her way, hexing a fawning blonde to insert herself into a conversation.

Watching as she walked off and hexed a fawning blonde, she almost snorted but shook her head. Pansy Parkinson seemed to always go after exactly what she wanted. So, at least, that never changed.

Draco steadied a breath. “Already making friends,” he praised lightly. “Don’t let her drag Nott into your dates. They get highly competitive.” There was a reason he didn’t entertain her as he once did. The witch had a way of coming in like a bombarda.

"I was bound to eventually," she murmured, lightly squeezing his arm before taking another sip of the champagne. So far, so good. And she would take to heart what he said about Nott and Parkinson. The last thing she wanted was to deal with that level of competition. "So if she's a bridesmaid, have her walk with Zabini," she said in an undertone and a small note of amusement.

It wasn’t too long before more Hogwarts acquaintances had found them. Making small talk and claims as if either of them had had any thoughts for the other during their school years. At least they’d refrained from mentioning her punch in the face. That certainly hadn’t helped his dislike for her in school. Despite that, sixth and seventh hadn’t held the hate he’d thought he had harbored, but it hadn’t been feelings. Existence had been hard enough that he couldn’t have imagined love. Even now, it felt out of reach.

She spoke with other acquaintances from Hogwarts easily enough. They talked about what they were up to, and it made the witch a little envious of what they had been able to accomplish. While she wasn't resentful towards Harry, she was starting to become more and more resentful towards the witches and wizards in charge of the insurgency.

Pleasant chatter only lasted so long, and waves of people came and went. A few members of the inner circle had come to congratulate him on a task they had all bet impossible. Flipping the chosen one's best friend hadn’t been something anyone had thought possible. Draco had merely used it to show their lack of creativity and moved on, Hermione in tow. He’d barely touched his bubbles, wishing he had something stiffer in hand and knowing he needed his wits about him. Eventually, he abandoned the flute to a passing tray.

“Draco,” the voice was sultry and soft. “Congratulations,” the brunette said gently, her evening gown dark blue silk highlighting her form while remaining tasteful. She leaned and tip-toed to press a kiss to his cheek without ever making contact. Her gaze remained warm and kind before offering her hands to his betrothed. “Congratulations,” she offered, her warm gaze genuine as they met a second time.

Finishing off her drink, she put the empty glass on a passing tray and grabbed another, especially as the older members of the inner circle made such comments. She felt a shudder run down her spine and she had to swallow down her vitriol to keep from saying anything. The fact he mercifully didn't make them stay close to them was nice. Now, she just had to manage not to guzzle the bubbles. Because she wanted something stronger. Something to distract her.

The warm gaze of the other brunette actually had her smile a bit more brightly. "Daphne. Wonderful to see you again," she said as she took her hand, giving it a light shake. "Your gown is beautiful. Is this the one you purchased when we ran into you?" She asked politely. At least she could talk to Daphne like a person and maybe could steal a bit more time with her.

Daphne held onto Hermione's offered hand with both of hers a while longer, as if she could send her all the positivity in the world in that small gesture. "It is. Not as extravagant as yours," she praised. "You both look stunning," she took the sight of them, the way the sky seemed to never end between his trim and the main fabric of her gown. Two zodiacs she was convinced didn't naturally entangle in the night, as if they'd brought the very sky to heel. The poetry of it alone almost made her tear.

Draco was grateful for Daphne's friendship. Her warmth had been the main reason he'd kept her at bay. That innocence and caring traits his world so often voided. The pain and sacrifices in his life often supernova'd into supermassive black holes that left nothing in their wake. "Did you come with a date?" he asked. Some days, he had half a mind to throw Theo at her, but then he'd just condemn her to more of the same.

"Just my sister. She was with me, but you know Astoria," she gave a light laugh. "Always getting up to something..." she shook her head. "Mrs Malfoy said she was going to host an afternoon tea soon," Daphne said gently towards the brunette. "If you wanted, you can always owl or floo me if you ever wanted company." She had read between Narcissa's lines, and rather than bring up the why, she merely gave her solution.

The warmth offered from Daphne was more than a little surprising. Perhaps it was her own prejudices that she'd developed over seven years, but she had thought nearly everyone sorted into Slytherin house and had an association with pureblood society as cold. The warmth from Daphne almost reminded her of Ginny. Oh, she hoped Ginny was doing well. Not getting caught sending the galleons from Quidditch they weren't supposed to go.

"Why thank you. I felt it would compliment the both of us," she offered, still taking in Daphne's dress though. It was simple and elegant, something she would have been more likely to wear if they weren't trying to make a statement. A statement she didn't want to make. Thinking a moment, her brow furrowed, then she smiled a little bit more. "Astoria....two years behind us in school, right?" She remembered the name, but she couldn't say she could remember more about her than that.

Two offers to have company already. At least that meant she wouldn't just be stuck with the boys. "I'll keep that in mind. I may take you up on that when it comes to all of the planning I'll have to do in the coming weeks," she offered. That would be better than Parkinson. Though she would still get her nails done with the witch. Better to get to know these women and better understand them.

Daphne beamed. "Yes," she responded easily. "Typical younger sibling," she added with a bit of mirth. "Strong-willed, so wherever she lands, I'm sure she'll do fine." Daphne had always admired her sister's strength and resilience. "And I'd love to help. I'm part-time at St Mungo's, mostly just behind-the-scenes stuff," she added, not wanting to be confused with a healer, though it had been a dream of hers. But working full time wasn't the most conducive to finding a suitable husband. She kept the bitterness under wraps, her mask flawlessly in place. "But my schedule is flexible," she assured.

Hermione smiled with a shake of her head and a chuckle. "Don't have any younger siblings myself, so I'll take your word for it." The mention of St. Mungo's had her a little surprised. It had been so damaged during the earlier years of the insurgency, but it almost sounded like things were starting to recover well enough there. Healing for the healers. At least that sounded like it worked out well enough. "I'll keep that in mind. I'd enjoy another woman's perspective." Sparkly for Luna, plus the influence of a pureblood witch to help further sell everything.

Daphne seemed to beam at the opportunity. The truth was, even among her peers, she didn't often feel like she fit in. Society might have done its best to continue, but it left scars that ran deep. It made Hermione a breath of fresh air in an existence that only glimmered so much. "I can definitely offer that. Though, I shouldn't take away all your attention," she smiled. "And I should make sure Astoria doesn't elope with the first man she meets," she looked around, forcing a bit of a smile before taking her leave.

The way that Daphne lit up had her relaxing a little bit. Perhaps getting closer to Daphne wouldn't be that difficult. Parkinson felt like she'd be a lot more calculating, and she'd have to be very careful with all of that. Who knew where Parkinson's alliances truly lay? The same could be said of Daphne, but she was willing to let her get a bit closer to see. "We'll catch up later," she promised, actually chuckling as she went to find her sister. Well, that was something.

Draco had gotten a few moments to fall back into his occlumency to compartmentalize as his betrothed chatted away, tethering himself enough to listen to the cadence without processing the words. When the conversation seemed to end, he felt the sound of their surroundings pour back in. Placing a hand on the small of her back, he moved towards the dance floor. "If we dance, we don't have to talk," he offered with a smirk. It would be her decision in the end.

Turning her attention back to Draco, she downed the rest of her champagne and placed the second glass onto a passing tray. If she could keep around Daphne, she might have been fine most of this party. Looking to the dance floor, she let out a slow breath and gave a nod of her head with a small smile. "That sounds like we should have danced sooner so I could have you to myself," she replied softly, playing into the role as much as wanting the chance to get away from everyone else.

Reaching for her now free hand, he brought it onto his shoulder, his arm moving to support hers as it found its place against the back of her shoulder.

"Greedy," he flashed a dark grin. "If I had known all you wanted was to have me all to yourself, I could have just taken you straight to my chambers," he drawled. It was lies, all lies, but the imagery was better than the reality. At least he still had some friends, though he did his best to keep them at arm's length. Loyalty was hard to come by. The irony was he was now safest at the side of his biggest enemy.

Letting her hand settle easily onto his shoulder, she moved her hand into his, letting him decide ultimately how they were going to dance, but she knew how. She'd danced a few times in the early days of the war, at Bill and Fleur's wedding, She hoped the pair of them were still alright and back during the Yuleball. She'd been graceful then, and she'd be just as graceful now.

Hermione leaned in to murmur in his ear, still keeping with their roles in case someone did get close enough to hear her. "You don't seem to mind all that much when I'm greedy." He seemed to revel in it and make deals with her. She wasn't even sure if she could trust him, and yet she was going to have to. Trusting anyone else at this point would only get her killed. Perhaps even both of them.

Those words tickled the shell of his ear, and visions of the night before filled his head. He guided her on the floor, following the cadence of the music like it was second nature, gliding them gracefully alongside other couples.

Lips against her ear, he loosed a breath that shared many properties with a moan for her alone to indulge. "In that sense, I daresay we're equally greedy," he spoke in a velvet undertone. "Even now, I can think of three places that would afford me to get beneath those skirts without being noticed, or at the very least bothered," he taunted.

She wasn't surprised that he could dance. It was something he was likely taught just as he had been taught so many other things about courtship that felt out of place in the modern world. The wizarding world truly did seem to adore traditions. At least this one she couldn't complain about at all.

The sound of that breath had her grip on his shoulder tighten for a moment. A faint bit of pink colored her cheeks, and she nearly shivered. Damn him. Playing with fire like this wasn't the best idea, but it was helping her feel steadier, especially with the eyes on them. All of it was rather overwhelming. Bantering with him? She'd done it to some degree for seven years. This kind of bantering was more pleasant than the threats, too. "Is that where your mind has been wandering?"

"Escape routes? Always," he retorted easily. If those also happened to lead to disappearing under her dress to pull sweet, delicious sounds, that was merely a bonus. Even in his own home, he kept track of every way out, just like he did on the field. Ideally a good location had three ways out. It was hardly ever the case. His cool cheek pressed against hers, enjoying the heat he found blossoming there.

"Not what I meant," she chided easily enough. Though, he made a good point. She had noted several places to get out of this party if she needed it. Eventually, she'd need air. This was the largest number of people she'd been in an enclosed space with since the war started. And nearly all of them had been her enemy until just a few short weeks ago. Feeling the chill of his cheek, at least compared to hers, pressing to her skin, she almost shivered.

Closing his eyes, he reveled in their proximity, her words threatening a smile on his lips. “It does,” he admitted. “More often than not, your proximity does cause my mind to wander to more pleasurable activities.” Especially when the alternative was this. Around him, he could taste the bitter betrayal a number of them felt. It was his station that prevented them from acting on it. For now. As angry as they might feel, the other side was feeling a burn bone deep. A fire worse than any curse, and Draco hadn’t even begun the lengths of devastation to come. “I suppose you likely think of books. I’d say racy ones based on my intel."

A shiver rolled down her spine. It explained why he seemed just so damn insatiable. Like he could eat her alive and still want more, focusing on those words rather than the gazes of those who watched them dance, she almost snorted. "When my mind wanders? Not often. Not anymore." When they were in school? Often. Books and the papers and tests. Her mind wandering back to the insurgency had more to do with wondering just how much of her humanity she lost to this war. "I do have needs. Those books helped," she countered even as she felt that blush heat. Damn it, Luna.

“You certainly do have needs,” he whispered knowingly. “Perhaps I need to give you distance to give your mind time to wander,” he chuckled. He had never meant to be this physical. Not as regularly as they’d been finding themselves entangled. Years of denial left him feeling no better than his teenage self-discovering pleasure for the first time.

Her mind wandering back to those books would end up getting her into trouble. "I'll just take care of myself if you do that," she drawled against his ear, still blushing but trying to play off that she was fine. That the idea of him seeing or knowing exactly what was in those books wouldn't give her ideas. The intensity with him was different than the others she'd been with. Any memory with Wood had been soured into something terrible and twisted, which just left Krum. Not nearly as verbose as Draco seemed to enjoy being in the bedroom.

“You think you can shatter yourself as thoroughly as I can?” He practically purred in her ear. “Careful, we have a lifetime as the other’s only partner,” he reminded. It didn’t matter if her past lovers had been sex gods, they would only be pale memories. Heck, he wasn’t even sure what coveting would cause with the binds. Would she even be able to touch herself while thinking of another? He tried not to think about how everything that could go wrong. “I might just have to see it for myself…”

"I've had years of bringing myself over the edge. You've had, what, four nights?" Nights. Mornings. It was the same difference. But he'd managed to get her off four different times, a number of times for three of them, but she shivered at the sound of his voice in her ear. Teasing him like this while they danced, people all around that could overhear what they were saying if they got too close almost made her blush even more. "Not allowed to interrupt unless I invite you... if you try to watch," she warned with a bit of cheek, not thinking he'd actually do it.

Draco sucked in a breath. “I can be extremely patient,” he reminded. “Wouldn’t be the first time either,” he purred. He’d spent years trying to kill her, going at it more vehemently in those final months. “I knew your schedule down to a T at the end, darling. Your dead drops, your informants, where you slept,” he whispered. “Even that stretch of forest near here, where you’d go to think…” he pressed a kiss to her cheek. She was here willingly, but he’d been ready for the opposite. “If it isn’t as good, you’ll have to ask me nicely,” he met her gaze, a dangerous glimmer in his gaze.

Rather than doing anything to keep that heat, his words chilled her. Confirming her thoughts on his obsession with her. He could have snatched her from her bed in that lonely safe house where she'd only had his damn peacock for company. Or from the forest when she thought and would ramble to herself. Had he listened? Heard her frustrations when she hadn't been able to kill him and had cursed herself? A shudder went through her rather than a shiver that dangerous glimmer in her eyes, having her stare back at him. At least the flush in her cheeks covered some of that fear, so the color didn't just drain from her. Wouldn't do to have that during their little charade. She fanned herself slightly with one hand, feigning that she was too hot. "...I think I need a little air, darling."

His lips pressed beside hers. “Of course,” he responded pleasantly, guiding her towards Theo as the song ended. Parting, he kissed her hand and thanked her for the dance as any other couple on the dance floor did.

That kiss had her shiver and her heart hammered in her chest. But she kept that charming smile on her face as he kissed the back of her hand as they left the dance floor.

“Nott,” he demanded. “Hermione needs some fresh air. I trust her in your care.”

Theo bowed his head. “Of course,” he turned to the brunette, offering her his arm. “Powder room or balcony?” He gave her the choice.

Glancing at Theo, she was glad she didn't have her hair down to fidget with it, yet she wished she could hide behind it instead right then. "Balcony," she murmured politely as she took his arm.

Theo gently guided her, Blaise following at a distance if only to run interference. He was quiet, giving her space as though he could feel her burden. He couldn’t imagine this was simple, that any of this was. A hallway and a shortcut through an office had her on a small private balcony on the second floor with no other entrance or exit than the doors they walk out from.

“It’s a nice night,” he offered, looking over the veldt of stars overhead. “Firenze would probably say Mars was really red or something,” he added, trying to lighten her mood.

Hermione could feel them being shadowed, one quick and subtle glance catching that it was Blaise, and it kept her shoulders relaxed as they moved through the manor. She'd learn the rest of the layout eventually now that she could wander the grounds with more freedom. With that ring on her finger that seemed to gleam despite her discomfort.

Letting go of his arm, she stepped up to the railing and rested her arms on it as she glanced up at the stars, a slight chuckle leaving her at that. "...Possibly...The fact he taught divination almost makes me wish I hadn't dropped it." Almost, but not quite.

“Not sure he would have accepted your dismissal of the branch as a whole the way Trelawney did…” he chuckled at the memory. “Never understood how you could take Ancient Runes and completely dismiss Divination.” Not many had known Theodore as having been studious by any means, but he’d held his own.

She paused and glanced over at him with a raised brow. "Other than the fact that she saw nothing but death and destruction for everyone when she wasn't divining anything?" It had been hotly debated between her and her best mates once as well. "Ancient Runes were a form of language and a magical script for magical theory. Both vastly different," she murmured, almost falling back into that old habit of explanation.

Theo looked at her. “Runes are also used to predict, especially through arithmancy. Prophecy and divination disguised in empirical theory,” he reminded. “Trelawney was a quack,” he ceded. “But belief does have a strong component in actualization.” He tucked his hands in his pockets and held back a smile as he looked at the sky. As though he could devine the very future through the placement of stars.

Hermione looked back at him and sighed before she looked up at the stars. "Perhaps I wouldn't have dismissed it with a more competent professor." Learning who the original prophecy for Harry and You-Know-Who came from made her feel a little guilty for writing the woman off. But not enough to feel bad about walking out of the class. "Belief and actualization don't have as strong of a correlation as people think." If it did, she wouldn't be here. Not that she could say that to Theo. Or Blaise, who was right inside making sure Theo didn't say anything to her like he had to Mrs. Malfoy.

“She predicted death and destruction as she breathed,” he said quietly. “I don’t think she was wrong.” It was a hard pill to swallow. He saw her erratic pseudo-prophecies with every name that had been listed among casualties when he closed his eyes at night. He swallowed down. “Is that so?” He asked, no judgment in his tone. Carefully, he plucked his wand and conjured a bouquet of larkspurs. “Then I would ask you what magic was if not the proof of just that,” he tucked his wand back and set the flowers on the banister. He knew better than to gift them, but the easier conjuration would prove his point.

That had her sigh a little as she looked down at the ground below. "I suppose she wasn't." She said simply, keeping any of the judgment or sorrow out of her voice. So many names had been predicted dead, and yet she had predicted Harry's death several times over, and he was still alive even if he had died once. Another friend she likely wasn't to see again. As Theo conjured the larkspurs, she actually chuckled softly. "Force of will and manipulation of what's already there. Not belief. Laws of magic wouldn't exist if belief alone got us what we wanted." It was an argument she'd had with Ron a few times. Ages ago. Guilt for his death washed through her again, but she shoved that aside. Not now. If she dwelled on that now, then she'd cry, and if she cried, it would ruin their charade and likely get Theo into trouble.

“Is it, though?” He asked her honestly. “I know what I’ve been taught, but I’ve come to the conclusion that most of the limitations we know aren’t impossible so much as improbable without paying a very steep cost…” he said simply. “I’ve seen too many exceptions to think anything as final or resolute,” he concluded.

"I believe so. Can't create something out of nothing. I have wanted to create something out of nothing so many times," she chuckled, focusing on that rather than anything else. The limits of magic seemed to bend at odd times. Twisting and turning. But she knew that the law was still firmly in place. "Those larkspurs came from somewhere. When we vanish something, it still exists."

“Is there really such thing as nothing? Even the air we breathe is made of something,” he mused and sighed. Reaching into his pocket, he set a clove cigarette between his lips.

Considering that for a moment, she glanced up at the stars, mulling that over. "....Perhaps not. You might have a point...But only might," she offered with a bit of good-natured humor. However, she glanced over at the cigarette he put between his lips and gave a slight wrinkle of her nose. One habit she was glad she didn't pick up. Drinking and cursing like a sailor? Absolutely. Smoking? Not even once.

At that wrinkle, he sighed and tapped the end against its black box. Slipping it back in and pocketing it. He wouldn’t upset her. Not if he valued his life. “We should probably head back in a few minutes.”

That sigh and the tap had her sigh in return, and she just took a few steps to the left so she was a bit further away. "Go ahead and get a few drags. Who knows when you'll be able to slip away again..." she offered, her fingers tapping against the railing. They'd miss her at the party if she were gone for too much longer, but those words Draco had whispered to her echoed in her head. Was it just observation, or was that due to intel from Luna? Thinking about it made her want something stronger than the bubbles being served at their party.

Theo hesitated at her offer. When he pulled out the box again, he moved further from her, ensuring the wind would keep the tendrils of smoke so as not to offend.

With a black clove cigarette between his lips, he used his wand to light it and take a deep drag. He reveled in the burn down his throat. Taking his time to exhale. It smelled way better than traditional cigarettes, which he disliked.

“If someone made you uncomfortable, I can slip something in their drink,” he offered with a glint of mischief.

The smell of cloves made it tolerable. It almost reminded her of the smell that had clung to Sirius's room when they had explored the House of Black while on the run. That glint of mischief and the offer reminded her of George after a fashion, and she actually chuckled before shaking her head.

"No...I don't believe you can, Theo. The offer is appreciated." He was kind, at least after a fashion. She had no idea if it was because Draco might kill him if he wasn't kind to her, but either way, even the illusion of kindness was welcome.

So Draco had pissed her off. That could be problematic. He said nothing, taking another drag and searching the stars. There was no point in saying it stood. At this point, he hoped she knew she was untouchable, or as close to it as one got.

A tension seemed to release from his shoulders on exhale. “At least not all the guests showed up.” He could think of one most would want to avoid.

She had already decided she was going to her own quarters after the party was over. Hell, she could even claim it was to make sure she got more rest, and it would stand up well. All the things he said, she should have realized. But it still shook her that he had gotten so close and could have grabbed her himself and then decided to burn any bridges back that he could.

"I'll take that luck where I can get it. Won't be that lucky forever," she sighed. Eventually, she'd see the very man that she had tried to help Harry kill.

“It’ll be worse,” he didn’t pry his gaze from the stars. There would be whispers that His blessing hadn’t been given. There would be questions. He was certain Draco would feel it in the ranks, and knowing him, he’d block her out. Keep her safe from the reality. A part of him almost envied her.

He took another deep drag. This would end horribly.

"Probably." Him not being here would make others doubt, would make them question Draco more. Make her a target for retaliation. She had her wand. She would be fine. There wasn't exactly another option than being fine. "We should get back."

Bed. She'd get to go and curl up in a warm bed with Crookshanks after this and let everything out before locking it down again. "Don't want to give them more reason to gossip."

Theo vanished his cigarette and easily presented his right arm as he had before. When they returned to the festivities, it wasn't long for Draco to find them.

He was more recluse into himself, thanking Theo with the polite detachment that was expected of him. Time away had given him the reprieve he'd needed. With every passing moment of the event bringing him closer to a conclusion, he began seeing more clearly. "A few guests were just looking for us, darling," he told her cooly. The first to leave, and though he should have been breathing, he did anything but.

Retaking his arm, she put another small smile on her face, rolled her shoulders back, and made herself stand tall as she had before. At least she knew how to pretend well enough.

Once she was back on Draco's arm, she stepped in close and brushed a quick kiss on his cheek. "Sorry for keeping them, and you, waiting then. Got distracted by the stars," she explained away as easily as she could, she hoped. That cool tone made her a little leery. Gossiping had started while she was away. The guests were lucky they hadn't made some snide remark. She doubted her betrothed would have stood for that.

That warmth on his cheeks felt like an explosion he did his best to terminate. It had taken a quick breath to brace himself. "No need to apologize," he offered, falling back on those ingrained manners that had saved him. "I'm just pleased to have you at your best to see our guests out."

She merely gave a nod of her head, lightly squeezing his arm. "You always have me at my best," she replied smoothly. It was all a role she just had to play her part perfectly in. A lot of it would be hard, but she could get through the rest of the day, get something to eat, and retire to her quarters. Goal setting got her through her worst days in the insurgency. It would get her through her worst days here, too.

Draco was grateful he hadn't needed to welcome everyone the same way he helped escort them out with his betrothed at his side. He could feel the all-consuming anger on the other side of his arm. The itch reminded him of what was to come. This was as cruel as demanding a man on execution to sharpen the blade to his own demise, he realized. When the last guest was out, he felt his father linger.

"Nott, Zabini," he called. "I have some affairs to handle. You know what I need of you," he drawled before turning towards the aged blond behind him. "Not in the mood," he dismissed.

Dismissing everyone was easy, and she could do it with a genuine smile. Glad to see them all out of the house that she was to call her home now. Now and for the rest of her days. But the way that Draco seemed stiffer, colder, had her watching him from the corner of her eyes. What had she missed?

Before she could say anything, Nott and Zabini were there again, and her brow started to furrow, but she didn't question it as she had in the study before. "I suppose I'll see you later," she offered calmly enough.

Lucius frowned at the dismissal, about to push before he felt his wife's hand on his arm, and he covered it with his own. "Lunch tomorrow then?" He offered an alternative to now without pushing, not wanting to raise his wife's ire again.

“Lunch,” he nodded. And in a shroud of dark smoke, he was gone.