Chapter 33
“Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth.”
Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
After the fourth pub, the night had started to get away from Draco. He'd even had to pick up one of the tabs at some point, and he was fairly certain he'd bought a round for the entire establishment too, which had kept them there long enough for Nott to find himself someone.
It was all fuzzy, with a hint of pain—scratch that, a lot of pain. The marble bench he'd decided to sit on had become a cool surface to rest on, and somewhere in the night, he'd found himself with an arm on it and the rest of his person on the ground. A small groan escaped him as the throbbing allowed sensations to add to the overload.
Everything was spinning. Bright warmth seared against his eyelids. Fuck he cursed incapable of speaking the word. Regret was definitely rearing its head, just like the indignation of peacocks in the distance. A wry smile perked his lips. He had chased one of them.
The weekend had been a nice reprieve. Her hair charmed, well rested for the most part, and she had enjoyed getting to know her bridesmaids better. Daphne seemed genuinely nice, while Pansy seemed more personable than she would have guessed when they were in school. It also had her mind running away from her. Surviving the wedding would only be the beginning.
After the wedding, the rest of her would begin life with someone she had tried to kill off and on for seven years. Someone who had killed one of her best friends. The same person who made her toes curl and had her screaming due to what he could do to her. What was wrong with her?
She sent her bags back to her room as she strode onto the grounds, requesting brunch and tea outside near the gardens as she marched through the manor. Stepping outside though, she froze as she noticed Draco on the ground. She hadn't seen Theo or Blaise inside. What had they gotten up to?
Closing the distance between them, she stepped in front of Draco and blocked the sun a little. "What the hell did you get up to last night?"
A halo of painful light enshrined her as he looked up. Every word she spoke came slowly, pounding in his head like she'd yelled, and yet he knew she hadn't. For a moment, he just looked at her. Fuck she looked good. Which was probably a stark difference from his wind-whipped hair and a few bruises and scrapes he'd picked up. He wished he could say it was a bar fight, but the reality was, trees weren't in the business of getting out of the way.
"Drinking," he managed, but the word felt like molasses on his tongue. "Flying." He added. His Firebolt was wedged in the hedge behind him, not that he'd admit it.
Two singular words that felt like way too long a statement. Blaise had promised potions to help ease the hangover. He doubted anything was going to dull the sharpness he felt in his mind.
"You?" he asked, though even if she answered, he doubted he'd get all of it. His hand reached to push his blond hair back, but it nearly missed as he unhanded the bench and dropped on his back with a chuckle. Gravity was such a bitch.
If she didn't know any better, she would say the man was still very drunk, which meant that Blaise and Theo were likely drunk or hung over around here somewhere. Well. That was a thought. Hopefully, neither of them was naked. She had no desire to see more naked Death Eaters.
"What a stellar combination...seems like you lost a fight with a few trees," she muttered, looking him over slowly with that calm expression. As he nearly missed his own hair and fell onto his back, she couldn't help but snort with a soft, genuine laugh as she shook her head. At least he had fun, she supposed.
"Drank. Got pampered. Gossiped. Pansy followed your rules," she offered and seemed to contemplate him a moment before she offered him her hand to help him up off the ground.
"We did, too," he closed his eyes and took a moment to ground himself. He let the ground settle beneath him. With the waning summer, it was growing firmer. Droughts were more common, though the gardens here were spelled year-round to maintain certain levels. Nature always sought balance.
"You had rules to follow?" She questioned with a raised brow. They hadn't discussed any beforehand, which made her think that maybe they should have. If the other two were elsewhere, it meant Draco had been up to his own devices while drunk. What would the right hand of the Dark Lord have gotten up to while drunk?
He groaned as he tried to keep his head straight. There was an ache in his side. Slowly, he reached for it, fumbling for his inner cloak pocket he'd been crushing. A vial. Bringing it to his sights, he recognized the contents but focused on the label to ensure.
"You absolute whore," he praised and cursed Zabini and shot down the potion, needing a moment to keep it down properly, back of his hand to lips as he did. Of course his friend had left it for him rather than give it to him.
When her hand was ignored, she dropped it. The praise and curse had her blinking a few times, her brow furrowing. "Pardon?" Her voice was a little bit sharper. That couldn't possibly have been targeted at her, but she had no real idea as to who he was calling a whore.
It had her stomach knot again. What was she even doing here with him? Why was she saving her own skin in this way? Movement from what she had guessed to be a servant's hallway on the side of the manor caught her attention, and she noticed a shirtless man trying to tug on shoes and a shirt fleeing the manor.
"What....the hell?" She muttered more to herself than to him, watching the figure try to scurry off the grounds.
Draco felt that sobering feeling. It helped him regain some composure. The world wasn't quite the same tilt-a-whirl it had been, but it was much more manageable. If he compartmentalized his pain, he could ignore it. Everything was in a neat little box. Sadly for his appearance, he would have to work some more.
"Zabini is a whore, not you," he answered, rubbing a hand over his head. Fuck he needed a shower. Soon enough, his gaze followed her question. He noted the shirtless man running off the property. A laugh escaped him at that. Memories from the night before rushing back. At least he hadn't done much to regret. "And that would be Theo's ride. Poor sot could barely keep up..." he shook his head and looked at her.
"And Blaise felt it was fair to impose the same rules I gave Parkinson," he announced, brushing off his front and attempting to get to his feet. It took a moment to feel steady, but he managed.
"Well, I should hope it wasn't me. It's not a very flattering thing to call your fiancée," she drawled. And yet he'd inferred such a thing the evening she had seduced him, unintentionally gaining more of his attention than she ever thought she would get from him. And now she would be wed to him within a few days.
Trying not to snort, she shook her head, glancing away from the young man escaping the manor to look back at Draco. His laugh was...surprising and had her dropping her guard a little bit as she looked at him. That had been genuine, which further blurred the lines of all of this.
"I'm honestly surprised that you're the only one out on the grounds if you all got that sloshed," she murmured, feeling an odd sense of...relief that he hadn't found someone to occupy his evening. Was that due to the vows or because he didn't want to? Difficult to say, and she didn't want to dwell on it.
Since it had been over twenty-four hours, she felt comfortable tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear, the waves perfection due to the charms. "...I'm having brunch outside if you'd like to join me. Your hangover might appreciate the water and something on your stomach."
His cheeks flushed. "I couldn't let them pick up all the tabs in our race," he said as it was the most natural explanation in the world. Deep down, he trusted the pair, even if sometimes he showed the opposite. It was more of a shock for him to realize just how much he trusted Zabini.
"One of us had to be not so sloshed to get everyone home, and it certain as shit wasn't Nott," he couldn't stop the mirth or the chuckle that followed. Theodore and his range of lovers. You never quite knew who would be running out of the servant quarters.
At her offer, he stepped closer. "A cuppa does sound like a good idea, not sure about food," he supplied honestly.
That mirth, the way it lit up his face, had her staring at him for a moment. It made him look less severe—less like he wanted to eat her alive and more like a person again. "So you raced between pubs to determine who paid? I'm sure you rarely picked up a tab." She remembered what he was like out on the pitch, even if she wasn't overly fond of flying herself. It seemed like Theo might have felt the same.
"A cuppa and a glass of water then," she stated a little more sternly. He was making her lady of the house and would likely chide her if she didn't eat or drink satisfactorily. He better get used to the same. She studied him a moment or two longer before she walked over to the table, a kettle and two cups already being set out along with breakfast for the witch.
He nodded. Now that she said it, it sounded juvenile, reckless even. It was everything he should have shut down, and yet, how was it any more dangerous than what he’d signed himself up for the moment he had spared her life?
At her sternness, he raised a brow. Though he didn’t respond, he did take a moment to study her. She looked good. Her hair looked beyond soft, and all he wanted to do was run a hand through it. All it did was remind him how ragged he probably appeared. With a flick of his wand, his robes were straightened, and though he still needed a shower, he wouldn’t smell as offensively of liquor. Once presentable, he took a seat and had the kettle fill their cups. Hers first and then his.
Ignoring the water he took a deep drink of the caffeinated version. “Cornwall seems to have suited you.”
The way he studied her had her actually run her fingers through her hair. It was more manageable than it had ever been. Pansy had been right and admitting that had felt like pulling a tooth. Surrounded by serpents and she had to actually admit when they were right. Hearing a disgruntled squawk from the gardens, she glanced over and furrowed her brow. "Wonder what has the peacocks so out of sorts," she mused more to herself before picking up her cup and adding a bit of milk and sugar.
Taking a sip, she sighed softly, her shoulders actually relaxed and her posture showing at least that she appeared more at ease here than she had been when she left. Though all that did was hide the storm that was her knotted stomach. "It was...nice. Pansy and Daphne are surprisingly good company."
Everything Daphne said still rang in her ears. She had time to figure out how she wanted to do this. How to navigate her own story. "I haven't gotten to simply be somewhere for relaxation in years."
“Might have decided to try and catch one,” he shrugged. His father’s peacock had been a fun distraction, drunk and not quite in his right mind. The thing preening itself had always pissed him off, not that he ever acted on it. He hoped the new one coming would continue the legacy.
He polished off half the cup and set it down. His stomach churned at the food. It's a mix of hunger and its opposite.
“Glad you were in good company and got to enjoy yourself.” He nodded. “We can always visit,” he added. It was a nice property. One he’d enjoyed the few times in his youth.
"I would have paid to watch you chase a peacock. On foot or on your broom?" She murmured with suppressed laughter. She took another sip of her tea and took a bite of eggs. Despite the knots in her stomach, she was going to attempt to appear as if nothing was wrong. No doubts.
"I would enjoy that." Visiting places would help distract her and keep her calm. "Might have to have a weekend with them when I have the opportunity."
Draco didn’t dignify her with a response. If she wanted to know, she could convince him to drink that much and find out. Not that he planned a repeat any time soon.
He nodded, making a note to try and take her on extended holidays. It surprised him to hear she wanted to continue hanging with the women long term. Considering the history, part of him felt guilty.
“I’m sure that can be arranged,” he offered. “Might be a while.”
"There's no rush, Draco. I'm sure I'll enjoy getting to actually leave the Manor on my own. Go to a library. Put even more books on our shelves." He'd best be prepared for all of the books she'd be bringing into the manor.
She couldn't think of this place as home. It was still a gilded cage. She'd be tethered to the Manor for the rest of her days. At least she'd have more freedom than a war criminal.
"Since I've handled most of the details of the wedding, have you already gotten everything planned for after?"
Though he was still overcoming the previous night, he noted the lack of his last name. Every word she spoke crafted and wielded in not only an acceptance of her impending title, but as if she embraced it. It felt ominous. Dangerous even.
He nodded. “Portkey will be set the night of our wedding. Arrangements have been made, as well as contingencies.” One couldn’t be too careful. They hadn’t heard from Luna, but there was another check-in that night and the next. Knowing he’d have her, he almost pitied Blaise.
After finishing the first cup of tea, she poured more into her cup and nodded her head. "I'll make sure I'm properly packed for our departure then." She had to make sure the commissioned outfits were packed, and someone would look after Crookshanks.
“I have a few more preparations to make before the ceremony. My presence will likely be scarce. Nott and Zabini will be at your disposal in my absence,” he told her, polishing off his tea and pausing as he noticed a large crate in the distance. “One moment,” he added, moving to the large box with air holes.
Blaise and Theo were slowly growing on her. And she had realized now that Draco wasn't as hard on them as he could be. She could still see how poorly he had come back to the Manor in her head.
Draco made his way to it, peering through one of the holes and smirking. Aiming his wand through one of them, he shot true, a singular feather on its tail poking out green and silver. The animal inside gave an indignant sound. Sheathing his wand, he straightened and looked towards the brunette. “Might want to wait a bit before opening this gift,” he drawled.
As he smirked when he looked in the box, she frowned as she looked between him and the box. "What in the world are you gifting me that needs to be in a box with air holes?" She asked a little more sharply. She didn't trust that look one bit.
“Come and see for yourself…” he invited her with a wicked smile. The bird inside was still obviously agitated but then he couldn’t blame it.
Hermione paused, took another bite of her breakfast, and then stood up to walk over to him. She studied him for a moment before kneeling down to peek inside one of the holes in the crate.
“This is Trotenoy,” he introduced the angry albino peahen. From her angle, she wouldn’t see the singular Slytherin-themed tail feather. “I figured you should get your own before you try claiming Petrus…”
Looking up at him, she glanced back into the crate. "What will be amusing is if she likes you more than me. Petrus already took a shine to me," she half teased, but she just stared into the box. "...I suppose there's a peacock for each Malfoy then?"
He nodded. “One for each Malfoy. Petrus was the product of my parents' bonded pair,” he supplied. He doubted their own would create an egg, but if they felt it was time, it certainly would happen. His mother had warned him their birds would be mirrors to their marriage. It had him swallow down, unsure how one would take to the other. “I would have gifted her sooner, but they’re extremely rare to come by.” It wasn’t just a peacock or an albino one. It was their abilities, and most of all, someone willing to part with a female.
She knelt down next to the crate and looked in at her with a small smile. "Well...hopefully Trotenoy and Petrus don't attempt to kill each other," she murmured, hoping that the peacock would let her touch her at some point. She was a lovely creature. But with her mistrust still of Malfoy, despite the vows about to tie them together, she wasn't sure how they would get along at all. "... She's lovely. Thank you, Draco."
“You’re welcome,” he responded. He was glad she liked the peahen he had offered. "Peahens are usually faster and more effective.” His father’s peacock had thankfully been more pompous than action in his youth. Or perhaps he had known his limits. “I’ll let you two bond. She’ll likely calm down when I leave,” he smirked.
Looking over at Draco, she lifted a brow. "And what exactly did you do to her when you put your wand through the crate?" She couldn't help but ask, her own curiosity getting the better of her.
“Fair is fair.” It was all he would say on the matter. At least he wouldn’t have to steal her bird the way she had his. Soon enough, all of everything around them would be theirs.
"Fair is fair?" She echoed, watching him for a moment before looking back at the crate.
"Anything I should know before letting her out?" Did someone have to introduce her to the other peacocks? She oddly didn't want the peahen hurt and she wasn't sure Petrus would be nice.
Draco merely kept that small upturn of his lips as he eyed her. “She’s here to protect you,” he said simply. If it hadn’t been clear, at least she wouldn’t need to fear the creature. Of course, she also wasn’t quite a Malfoy…yet.
Looking back over at Draco, she lifted a brow. What did it mean that his peacock had actually taken a shine to her then and hadn't tried to peck her eyes out? "Duly noted."
“See you around…”
Once Draco went inside, she drew her wand and carefully opened the box. The peahen stayed inside for a little bit before she slowly started to strut her way out of the box, ruffling herself off indignantly as she looked up at Hermione. And she noticed the feather. Slytherin green and silver.
Did he leave Petrus' feather gold and red? She'd have to go and see soon. She groaned and lightly stroked her fingers over the peahen's head with a shake of her head. "...That man's a menace. I'm sorry, Trotenoy...but you are quite lovely," she praised the creature before she went back to her breakfast, having the creature lingering around her for a little while before she went to go into the gardens.
Now she had to hope the pair of them didn't fight and that his parents' peacocks didn't try to attack hers.