Chapter 40
“You wouldn't abandon ship in a storm just because you couldn't control the winds.”
Thomas More, Utopia
Avoiding him when they were in close quarters was difficult, to say the least. For the better part of three days, she didn't speak a word to him, though they ate together. Mostly, she focused most of her attention on the artefact. On both nights, she'd fallen asleep in the armchair or on the couch. Just two more days in the villa, and they'd be back to the manor where Luna would be joining them soon.
Dressed in a skirt and a blouse that were light enough to help with the heat, she was curled back up in the armchair with three books open on the nearby table as she looked between them and then the artefact, her hair pinned back from her face so it wouldn't get in the way. Her wand was stuck in her hair, making it easier and quicker to grab and hinting back to a time when she had done that often in the Hogwarts library.
She had a piece of parchment where notes were being jotted down. Still, she hadn't really translated any of it yet. For that, she would need books from the manor and likely Lauren's help.
Leaning against the threshold, he watched her as he peeled an orange. Having spent a good amount of time in the library, he recognised the look. She poured herself into it as if it could undo their very vows if she succeeded.
A few times, he parted his mouth to speak. To interrupt and demand attention. Rather than give in to his impulses, he popped a piece of citrus in his mouth. They would have to speak before they left. If only to enact the vows. That didn't mean he had to make the first move.
His presence was something she could almost feel on her skin and against her mind with him there, looming. She didn't look up from the books, turning a page before she glanced at the runes on the top of the artefact. It was a carving of two snake heads facing each other, but on top, underneath, and even between a few of the scales were runes that were almost like the artefacts that she and Lauren had translated once already. But not quite.
"May I help you, or are you just going to keep watching me from the door?" She finally asked, her tone cool as she didn't even spare a glance up towards him as she turned the artefact onto its side.
“Can’t a man enjoy the sight of his wife in her element?” He asked, trying to avoid direct confrontation. They’d done so well communicating, and now they were somehow worse for wear. He wasn’t lying; she was definitely in her zone. Though he wouldn't admit it, he enjoyed this side of her. Different from how he’d gleaned her when he’d followed her. More at peace despite the turmoil.
With the heat, he’d finally caved to the pair of dark designer jeans and a black tee he owned. It wasn’t like the wildlife would have anything to report. “Tea?” he offered, summoning a tray forward with a pot of it along with cups and small snacks—a peace offering of sorts.
Finally glancing up at him, she was about to make a snide remark before she noted his attire and blinked a moment. That was the most dressed down she had ever really seen him. It was different. Strange. And no one would believe her even knowing those jeans were designer. Stacking one book, still open, on top of another open book she lifted a brow. "Is that what you were doing?"
Clearly, she didn't completely believe him. It was a question. A way to get around telling the truth in a way. Eyeing the tray, she sighed before giving a nod of her head as her fingers traced over the artefact with a bit of frustration. Why did the damn thing have to be hard to translate?
“What else could I be doing?” He asked in return. It wasn’t like he could plot her death. At least the migraine that had clutched him for two days had completely released its grip on him.
Settling the tray down on the area she freed, he took a seat opposite. The pot poured two piping hot cups with a bit of magic. He caught his and breathed it in.
"Reading. Actually, resting since you run yourself into the ground. Plotting," she listed off a few options with a shrug as she plucked the cup out of the air and inhaled the smell with a soft sigh. How long had she been in here? Probably several hours without leaving.
“I had a full seven hours in a row,” he smiled. “And then another six,” he added. “I’ve rested.”
He regretted not hiring a masseuse, but he couldn’t risk that, not after having had to bribe the local authorities. He’d also cleaned up the last of the evidence of their slaughter, but it wasn’t worth bringing up.
"I meant rest as in relax, not rest as in sleep." She stated simply before sipping at her tea. Her gaze didn't linger on him, instead glancing back at the books with a sigh of frustration.
Did she have a room to chide him if she wasn't resting? She didn't think she did, but still, she had expected him to do something other than watch her from the doorway.
“I’d ask how you're advancing, but I’d wager slow and likely…” he watched her as if her appearance itself would clue him in. “Needing more books and likely someone to bounce off of,” he noted. He’d been there himself a few times, usually chasing her.
Looking at books and the artefact, she wrinkled her nose before she let out a slow sigh. "Quite slow. I need more books. Lauren and I translated the last artefact, so I'll likely need her help...but I'm getting as much done as I can."
It beat doing what they had been doing the first week of their honeymoon. Two more days and then they'd be leaving, and she could settle in her own bed again with Crookshanks and get this taken care of with Lauren.
“I’m sure Lauren and Luna will be pleased to have you in the library soon enough.” He took a sip of tea and silently approved its bitterness on his tongue.
"I'm sure they will...I've missed Luna. It'll be good to see her more often and consistently. If Blaise doesn't hog her attention...." At least one of them was actually happy in the partnership they were in.
“Can you blame him?” He asked. Even he wasn’t so emotionally stunted to see their connection. “With her back, you might want to discuss the benefits of matrimony,” he said lightly. She was smart, he hopefully wouldn’t have to spell it out. He might have resented Blaise for Luna, but he didn’t want to be made to get between them either.
Considering that a moment, she let out a breath and pulled her wand from her hair. Ruffling out her locks, she shook her head. "No. I can't. Luna deserves some happiness after everything...and Blaise isn't so bad. He harms her, and I'll hex him," she warned, not even joking in the least as she sipped at her tea.
Blaise would definitely hurt Luna, but it wouldn’t be the kind of pain she shied away from. Luna had embraced it, embraced everything. But then again, she wasn’t fierce like Hermione. Not in a loud and unbreakable manner.
“Have you been resting?” He knew the answer. Knew she did what she did best. Get lost in research to avoid the world around her. “We won’t might not get a chance like this again…” he reminded gently. He likely wouldn’t be around when they got back. Division would likely be the first punishment, and everything else in time. “There’s a hammock out back,” he grinned above his cup.
"No. I've been trying to figure this out." And it wasn't nearly as restful on the couch as it had been next to him, and she hated that. Hated that he brought some sort of peace to her after everything they had been through. After all of the fighting and the lies and secrets. All of it. "We likely won't. But I apparently have to find some sort of solution or plan for after you do whatever it is you decide on...."
A hammock to take a nap in almost sounded tempting.
He kept stoic as his mind gave a laugh at her final statement. “You realise the entire ministry will need gutting, right?” What she was implying was messy. So messy. Now he had something more to destroy in all of this. “And neither of us is winning any elections soon.” After their time in the pyramid, he understood her ambition for more. That need for control, for information, for change on her terms. She really would have made a fine Slytherin.
The laughter in her head caused her to glance back at him with a raised brow. The question was at least clear: How was that funny at all?
"I'm well aware. The way the ministry works now is a puppet show at best. Which means when the puppeteer is gone, something else has to make everything behave as it should. And it won't work as it is. Both systems torn apart means that without something to replace it, the UK could fall into a civil war, or Muggles might try fighting us with numbers again," she muttered, actually thinking this through. She took a long sip of tea and sighed as she glanced at the books she had.
One of them had nothing to do with translation and everything to do with magical governments around the world. It was an outdated book, something from before the rise of the new regime, but it was something.
“Rome wasn’t built in a day,” he reminded. But it was destroyed in one. The thought was almost amusing. So few people remembered the entire quote. They were on a schedule of sorts. He hadn’t set a date. But he also knew the longer he waited, the worse he would fare.
"So it wasn't." She answered calmly even as she answered him. It was. Give me a chance to find solutions so we both don't die once you've done this. Or we've done this. Or however, it will happen. Her words sounded grumbled as she finished her tea and went back to reading.
Polishing off his tea, he plucked a handful of nuts from the tray and left her to her readings. He wasn’t sure when the next time would be that he’d get to lie back in a jungle and watch spider monkeys run amok overhead.
An hour passed before she put the books down and went to find that hammock herself. The relaxation outside would be a nice reprieve from how dreary it could get in England.
The cover of trees offered a nice bit of shade despite how sunny and blinding everything seemed drenched in. Overhead, birds flew in colourful formations. To most, this would be paradise.
He didn’t dislike it, but he didn’t find anything to like. Not the heat or the humidity, even less the temples with more snakes. He lost track of how long he remained there, lightly swinging. He hadn’t imagined she would join. She’d done a great job avoiding him.
The sun was so bright that she almost ducked back inside to see if he was in the room and, if not, to claim the bed. As it was, she followed the path to where the hammock was and paused.
"I don't suppose there's room for two," she drawled, eyeing him and the hammock. She wanted the chance to nap and relax in the sunshine. The fact she hadn't gotten much sun would make things odd if others knew where they were honeymooning.
At her presence, he remained still, closing his eyes to brace himself for whatever she had for him. He’d half expected her to have some bone to pick, that when she spoke he opened his eyes to meet her gaze.
“Only for you,” he shifted to make room for her, using silent wandless spellwork to keep it steady. “If you care to join.”
She didn't know what to think about Draco. She didn't know how either of them felt but knew that regardless of that, they were stuck. At least not hostile was something she could aim for as she got into the hammock with him.
Already, this felt better than the damn armchair, and as she looked up into the trees, she closed her eyes with a sigh. "Needed some more time out of the villa."
For a moment, he lay there beside her, his arms at his side. For just a second, he felt more like an awkward teenager figuring out emotions than the manipulative man he’d become. Swallowing down, he lifted his arm and slipped it under her head.
“Easily gets…claustrophobic,” he agreed.
As he shifted his arm to be under her head, she blinked before shifting a little bit closer. A sigh left her lips even as she rested against him. What were they doing with all of this? "You're not wrong." And all there was to do in the villa was him or read.
When she didn't shoot off running, he relaxed. More so feeling her there at his side. It was odd. The constant push and pull. His mind knew distance was best, and yet his treacherous body was worse than his desires for betrayal. At least she'd had books. He'd mostly used trees as target practice and gone hunting a few times. He'd half wanted to wrestle a jaguar and bring her its pelt for claiming his lack of eating was why she still breathed.
Feeling him physically relax, she sighed and watched the sky. There were brightly coloured birds and wisps of clouds through the trees as she settled. At least he wasn't running himself into the ground. Seemed it was her turn to run herself into the ground. "Been out here since you finished your tea?"
Small talk. Was she really attempting small talk to keep things going between them? Though he didn't move, he was once again surprised by her attempt to fill the silence. He wasn't used to talking as much as he had with her. Perhaps it was why he'd been so forthcoming or because, for once in his life, he knew there was nothing he could say that would be used against him. They'd woven their vows carefully.
"It's been nice," he admitted. "Quiet. Almost...too quiet." If he hadn't paid off the local law enforcement, he might have feared an ambush of sorts.
Staring up at the sky, she mulled that over. She was so used to silence herself, but it was half maddening for her. To her, it was either foreboding or punishment. How long did it take for isolation to break someone? Was that what was wrong with her?
"Yeah. It's different. Normally, if it was this quiet in a safe house, it was because a raid was about to happen or I was being punished for failure." Failure wasn't punished with pain in her camp, but part of her had wished it was something other than silence.
As she spoke, he listened. Silence in their line of work never boded well. It was usually the quiet before the storm. A precursor to the impending battle. It was the second part that had him turn, shifting to look at her. They isolated her?
"That's barbaric, even by my standards," he wanted to reach for her, to tuck one of those curls behind her ear. "Torture, maim, kill, sure, but that just...destroys the integrity of a unit."
A sigh left her lips at that, and she kept gazing up at the sky. "...it's what they do to Harry. It was a looming threat for me and Ron. Mess up enough, and we'd be kept alone. Protected but alone so that if we were needed for morale, we'd be available." Inspiration and hope were in short supply.
Her shoulders were a little tense as she watched clouds drift by. That was one thing she'd give Draco. While he'd torture, or maim, or kill, he wouldn't have just isolated her. "Fear tactics take on a lot of different forms."
His jaw tensed. Well, now killing Harry freaking Potter would just feel like a mercy, even a pity. At this rate, would he even fight back? It was one thing to duel, to disarm, and to destroy. It was another to face a ghost in a shell. “I see,” his jaw remained a bit tighter. It wasn’t like he could pull off the same offer again, but perhaps there was something to be done. Maybe.
“It explains the defection of late,” he noted. Luna’s shift had surprised him. If that was what they were subject to. He reached to tuck a strand of her hair away behind her ear. “There’s a difference between waging war and handling prisoners,” he searched her gaze. “You were stronger as a trio, likely too strong for your leadership.” Hell, most of his men worked in threes. An inspiration from his time at Hogwarts.
"It does. Isolation or rationing of supply or healing. Luna didn't get to leave the healing houses all that often...I stayed in one for two months after one of our duels where I nearly killed you two years ago..." They had thought she was going soft. Perhaps she was. Maybe there was a small part of her that had been craving and looking for an out even then. She didn't want to think about it. Not seriously.
After a brief pause, she leaned into his hand slightly and actually looked at him. Despite trying to stay calm, there was lingering hurt and anger and guilt in her. Everything blended into a mess she didn't want to deal with. "Diggory knew that anyone would listen to the three of us over him, Shacklebolt, and whoever else is at the helm. They didn't want 'children' to further damage the cause," she drawled with a spark of irritation that she shoved down again.
"Luna's been compromised for so long I've always wondered why she was never found out," he admitted, but there was a bitterness to his tone. "Even then, it probably wouldn't have been noticed until a few years ago..." She and Blaise had worked hard to earn his trust back. It didn't matter, they'd hidden it from him and the betrayal stung.
"I've realised. It honestly makes me wonder what all she told you and if it really matters now anyway..." It just meant she'd keep her secrets to herself or preface it with this was simply girl talk, and she'd be livid if her husband found out. Luna was happy. Some of them should be. She had a feeling she'd be working too hard to be happy for the rest of her life.
His arm wrapped around her in an effortless manner that felt so natural as if he could shield her from those who had failed her. Even with those handicaps, she'd surprised him. "You're not a child," he assured her. "Doubt either of us have been for quite some time." He sighed and set his chin on her shoulder.
A sigh left her lips, and she shifted closer and closed her eyes. "Haven't been a child for years and years. Not sure I would have classified myself a child in seventh year either. Not with everything we did." Impersonating his aunt, breaking into the Ministry, and destroying Horcruxes all across the United Kingdom. They'd been busy. And because they had failed one time, they were punished. Hardly seemed fair.
“We don’t spy on our own if we don’t have to,” he eyed her from where he perched on her shoulder. There wasn't much he could do for her friendship; trust worked both ways, and that was definitely something for the girls to hash out. But now that Hermione was his, he didn't need the added ears. “Double agents are closely monitored, and her services in that capacity are over.” Normally, they didn’t exactly keep them either, but she and Blaise had worked tirelessly for a chance. And she'd lasted longer than anyone they had attempted to keep in.
"Reassuring. And you said he trusted me after I helped that night," she murmured, musing about it aloud. So that was a relief. No watching her more closely than just how she behaved in public. How she had behaved at her own wedding should have been enough to help her sell more of what she was willing to do. At least, she hoped that it would. That and the research she was going to be doing. Perhaps she could get Luna to help out a little bit with research. Anything that might link to any of this in advertently that she hadn't noticed.
Where his hand settled above her hip, he drew small circles with his fingers. Their upbringing hadn't been fair. "Can't let that hold you back either," he reminded. "Doesn't mean we have to accept it either," he added.
Those light touches had her slowly relaxing into him a little bit more. Why did his touch have to be so comforting? She wished she could write it off as her attempting to find comfort in others being the reason. But she knew that wasn't it. "You'll find I let very little hold me back."
"I can think of a few things that do," he held back a smile. There was no point in goading her when she was being pleasant. Her need to know just about everything certainly hadn't helped their working relationship. Shifting, he rested a bit more comfortably beside her.
"Do me a favour and do tell me if it becomes an issue to me actually getting things done," she supplied, not wanting to poke at it. There wasn't a lot of room in the hammock, and she wasn't sure if another fight was going to make it even harder for them to return to appearing as a doting couple when they got back to the UK.
Draco opened an eye to look at her then. "I'll try, just don't kill the messenger," he reminded. At least she was thawing. It made him cautious, and yet he couldn't be too much so.
She snorted. "Couldn't kill you now, Draco. Can't even harm you unless it's something you want," she sighed and looked back at him. He was lucky for it because she might have been tempted earlier. Even if that would have been short-sighted.
"How unfortunate for you," he tried not to be amused. At least something good would come from their vows. It pleased him that she seemed to like pain; at least, it gave some leverage.
"Quite. Also means you can't harm me either, though, so balance, I suppose." And he wanted to. He had mentioned knives before and they had briefly touched on it before everything imploded.
He tried not to focus on how her lips parted to let out the soft, sultry sound of her voice. "He's paranoid; he'll pry my mind to keep tabs, and it should suffice," he tried not to think of the world of pain he'd be privy to when this entire vacation would be a redacted blank for the Dark Lord. There was no point in dwelling on it.
There was a part of her that felt bad about that. She actually wrinkled her nose a little and shifted so her legs were tangled with his a little bit. Comfort. Just a little bit of comfort. She could keep things in hand. "Well, I do apologise for that. But if you want my help with both, you'll have to tell me things, perhaps not all at once. Wouldn't want there to be swaths of dark spots for him to see," she muttered, once again feeling a little guilty. The Dark Lord was a menace, but he was only a man. He could die like any other.
"Don't apologise. At least I know I'll have a hot healer taking care of me," he tried to make light of it. Any precedence she'd set would be expected, especially if he was punished that much. "It's not like I wouldn't have eventually told you," he sighed. Even his tone wasn't the usual defensive.
"I suppose I should make sure potions are brewed for when you come back then," she sighed and looked out into the jungle, trying to make herself relax. "Silver lining is I shouldn't need a healer that often," she drawled with a note of amusement. But she didn't comment on that. When would that eventually have been?
If he was going to trust anyone to brew his potions, he supposed she would be among the few. Perhaps the only. "I would hope not, or I'll run out of places to hide the bodies," he said simply.
She actually laughed and gave a shake of her head. "I can dispose of my own bodies. There are very few people that have harmed me that I didn't kill and take care of myself." He was on the list. So was his aunt. At least Neville had gotten her. If it had to be someone other than her, she could think of worse people.
"Is that so?" he asked. "I still have half a mind to go back and disappear that barkeep for trying to get you drunk and looking at you the way he did..." If they'd been back home, he wouldn't have held back. He also owed Diggory and company some pain, but he'd already promised her the kills.
Looking over at him, she gave a slight roll of her eyes. "Bartenders are going to end up giving me more alcohol, Draco. It's not like I'll be able to do anything with said bartenders. Besides, it was two drinks," she reasoned with him. Though with how he had promised to take care of anyone that looked at his witch, she shouldn't be surprised. That level of protective possessiveness still made her a little cautious of what he thought in regards to her.
"More like four, and be that as it may, anyone would be suicidal to oggle you like merchandise back home," he reminded. "And if they did, that would be their funeral. I'll offer the benefit of the doubt abroad." he compromised. He still didn't like it. He still stood by his offer that she could do the same.
She rolled her eyes once again and glanced back at him, lightly bumping her shoulder into his. "Not merchandise. But if I pull an appreciative eye every once in a while, that isn't a bad thing. It's a bad thing if they attempt to touch me." And for that, she'd let him jinx them over it. It wasn't likely she was going to rip apart any woman who looked at him.
"Trying to get you drunk is no better than a nightcap," he said flatly. He couldn't blame a person for having eyes. He could obliterate them for thinking they could act on it in any way.
Hermione glanced over at him. "If I'm with you? Getting me drunk is just getting me drunk. We know I'm not going home with anyone else. If someone is trying that when I'm alone? Feel free. It's not like I trust many drinks back home," she sighed. That should have been obvious by how she had nearly starved and dehydrated herself in his home. Their home. That would take getting used to.
He turned to look at her; he reached for her chin so their gazes met. "If you fear food and drinks, feel free to have someone taste them for you." He would happily assign someone if she needed a tester. "You're Hermione Malfoy now. I won't accept anything but respect towards you." He still had to find the source of the stamp she'd received now that they were getting time again.
As he gripped her chin and guided her face towards his, she tensed just a little before relaxing a little bit more. "In our home? I don't. Out and about? I'm not sure. Especially considering when we don't know who sent that seal. I'd rather not be poisoned or maimed or cursed," she admitted with a bit of a shudder. It hadn't left a scar. If it had, she would have raged and probably would have simply tried much harder to keep all of her clothes on here.
"Better paranoid and alive than dead," he offered, trying to be light as he held her gaze. Those were possibilities back where they belonged. "Just tell me what you need," his voice was low, gentle even. "I'll do whatever is in my power to keep you safe. You have people, which means the limits are merely temporary," he brushed his thumb across her chin under her lip. Life couldn't just resume normally, but that didn't mean she couldn't have as much leeway as he could offer if it meant succeeding.
A soft sigh left her lips at that. There was some weird way that he cared about her, and she didn't know how to feel about it, considering her feelings where he was involved were also...fuddled. "Until we find out who sent that seal and why exactly, someone to taste food or drink when we're outside of our home unless I see it made. Get me a few bezoars. I'd rather Theo not die if we're having him taste test my things," she muttered with a shake of her head.
She had just had to mention to the seal again. It had that need to murder rear its head. He hoped it hadn't been his uncle. Even with his suffering, it wouldn't have sufficed. His mother had assured him his father hadn't had anything to do with it, but until he had the person in his dungeons, he didn't want to see the man.
"We'll find who it was, and they'll regret it," he promised. At least she wasn't willing to sacrifice one of the few friends he had. "Consider it done for the rest."
"Of that, I have no doubt," she assured him. That wasn't something she would ever think he was incapable of. He was far too protective. Obsessed. Or perhaps actually caring? She didn't know. But it was endearing to her own twisted psyche that he would kill or torture to keep her safe.
He swore he saw a flare in her pupils as she spoke. The something in him he often felt he recognised in her. Did it excite her that someone would die for harming her? When he found them, she'd get her pound of flesh; he wouldn't deny her that, just like he hadn't denied her Wood.
"Might as well discuss any treasonous thoughts now before we blank them out."
"I'm all ears." Might as well get what intel she could while she could.
"Of course you are," he rolled onto his back and looked at the sky. "I was more bracing myself for anything you might want or plan to do...You already know my end game."
Rolling onto her back as well, she moved to rest her head on his shoulder as she looked up into the sky. "I want to save my best mate if at all possible, but we know how unlikely that is. I want to have a plan in place for what happens after so we don't just die as soon as you eliminate both sides. The prophecy about Him and Harry, or at least Him, makes things tricky when it comes to killing him," she paused. Draco had no idea about that prophecy, did he?
Only what she would allow, but he didn't have to restate the obvious. "I make no promises, but I have no desire to kill a pawn that's been locked up either." He hadn't had all the information. Had they broken the chosen one? For eight years, Harry had lived, and the Dark Lord had survived, and now he felt like both merely survived. "I wasn't privy to the prophecy," he said honestly.
At least Draco didn't want to kill Harry. That was a small bit of comfort she could take. The statement actually had her relaxing a little bit more, tension leaving her shoulders as she nodded, keeping her gaze skyward. "Essentially, it said that a child born to those that had thrice defied Him, that was born as the seventh month died, marked as his equal, having a power that He doesn't know, is the only one able to defeat him. Neither may live while the other survives. It...was vague. Could have applied to quite a few people, I'm sure."
"Wasn't born on the seventh month, though I suppose I've been marked as his equal, or as close to it as one can. Hopefully, it's enough," he closed his eyes. He never liked prophecies. Didn't like the idea of fate. Like his existence was anything less than what he made of it. At least now, he knew another portion of what he was up against.
"I'm aware you weren't. Perhaps another reason to keep Harry around," she offered as she also closed her eyes and enjoyed a breeze that came through the trees.
"You're going to tell me you believe in prophecies now?" he asked with a bit of laughter. Well, that was certainly news. Though he hadn't taken the class, he had heard of how she'd stormed out of the class in their third year. "Like I said, no promises. Plus if they keep him locked away, what can I do?" he offered. They just had to enact his plan first.
"This one? Considering how much the Dark Lord believed it? Possibly...I just didn't believe our professor, who saw death for everyone...I had this very conversation, without talk of a prophecy with Potter, with Theo at our engagement party," she sighed and shook her head. Time changed people. Harry had believed it. Draco's father had believed it. The Dark Lord had. There were even historical accounts of some prophecies being right.
"I bet he enjoyed that," he chuckled. There'd been a time when he hadn't disliked talking to Theo. Where they'd been able to have conversations about magic and possibilities. "Guess you have more research to see if prophecies don't come true..." he griped.
"He seemed to. Seemed very determined to convince me that divination was a worthy subject," she chuckled herself with a shake of her head. But that was something she could absolutely research. If the Dark Lord found out she was researching that, she could always use the cover of not wanting it to be true and trying to get intel for her new cause. But she hoped he wouldn't notice.
"Plus, Theo will happily spend more time with you if only to get into one of his debates," he rolled his eyes. If she felt comfortable with him, he'd post him alongside his wife. He was one of the few he would trust with his wife despite having a reputation for sleeping around. There were some lines even Nott wasn't stupid enough to cross.
There were so few people she genuinely liked anymore and fewer that she trusted. It felt strange to add Nott and Zabini to that least. Even stranger that she was considering adding Pansy and Daphne to it. She still wasn't sure what to think of Astoria. At least she'd have Luna with her very soon. And she wouldn't risk Blaise for Luna's sake.
Anything else?" he gave her a final opportunity to converse of matters that would easily get them killed.
Thinking about that, she seemed to consider it for a moment. What would she need? "Any books on how systems have worked in other countries for leadership. Use the excuse I'm trying to find ways to make other dignitaries more receptive to us. Since I'm sure I'll be at any and all events where we host others...Galas. Parties," she murmured and resisted the shudder. She'd need more dresses. Bloody hell.
"Done," he vowed. They would be hosts, and it was a plausible cover.
"Thank you." It was genuinely said as she studied his face a moment. There were times when it almost seemed like he was looking for something in her eyes, and she wasn't sure what it was he was looking for. Looking back up at the sky as they swayed in the hammock, she tried to relax. Everything was far more complicated than she would have thought.
"I'm sure my family have accounts, too; there's always a Malfoy near a seat of power either in it or with access to it," he shrugged. He'd only ever gone as far as Abraxas Malfoy, but then it was all he'd needed to study the ministry.
A small smile curved her lips as she closed her eyes and rested there beside him again. "I'm sure your family does. I'd be more surprised if they didn't have accounts on it....and anything on older ancient magic. Just say it's part of my research into all of this," she muttered. There was far too much they didn't know.
Draco settled in beside her, tangling with her. "I don't have to know everything you read, and I most certainly don't plan to deprive my wife of enjoying all our properties have to offer," he reminded her. She didn't need him to find these things to give them to her. She could just take them.
Closing his eyes, he let his sense of smell and touch heighten. The heat of her, the mix of exotic flowers and books, filled his nostrils. Too soon, he wouldn't get much of this. He'd take what he could get.
Staying tangled in against him for the moment, she tried not to fall into the intimacy of this. It was just comfort. That's all it was. Comfort and having to work together. "I'm going to need an inventory to go through all the things that we have," she chuckled, actually sounding just a little amused as she breathed in.
He smelled like fresh linen and bitter tea at the moment. She'd be alone once he got called out to work again. Would it be immediately upon their return? She wasn't sure.
“The suits that helped with all the lengthy paperwork before our wedding are paid enough to be bothered when you require,” he muttered against her shirt. Even if the sun wasn’t hitting him directly, he could feel the redness on his skin. “Some things you’ll just have to…uncover.” He knew it wasn’t ideal, but his family had a knack for concealing things. Even from themselves.
That sounded just as infuriating as having to go through the restricted section. And was even more likely to get her hexed. "Noted. Hopefully, nothing tries to jinx me due to my blood status." Wrinkling her nose at the thought, her fingers barely brushed over the scar on her arm. It was still marred with his bites and kisses, but she could still feel the lines of the word carved into her skin.
“Use Nott as a shield,” he smiled against her. “Or wait for me,” he sighed. Though they hadn’t tested anything, she had been added to the wards in a manner that allowed her to alter them. She was woven into nearly every aspect surrounding Malfoy property. Though he felt her shift, he kept his eyes closed, trying to imagine what she was doing.
She snorted and actually laughed a bit at that, shaking her head. "I'm sure you'd miss your friend if he died protecting me from a hex meant for muggleborns," she chided but sounded more amused than anything as she sighed. It wasn't the property she was worried about. But there were pieces that could be hexed against her blood specifically. Journals, gems, artefacts. She knew better than to think that the Blacks or the Malfoys wouldn't have tried to ensure their own secrets.
“If it’s meant for muggleborns then he’d likely survive,” he shrugged. Of course, he’d miss his friends if they died, but they’d made their peace. He’d lost so much that he hardly dared to get too attached. He was more relaxed now that she was a Malfoy. Perhaps he was the one who needed to be more cautious.
A soft sigh left her at that, and she nodded. Likely. She'd try to make sure nothing happened to Zabini or Nott of she could help it though he had a point. They weren't muggleborns. They'd be fine. That did cause her thoughts to circle back around to things that were meant and she glanced back at him. "...Why did you transfigure one of my peahen's feathers? Does Petrus still have a red one?"
The sharp turn he took at that question along with laughter nearly made them topple in the hammock. “Petrus wouldn’t let me fix his feather. Fair’s fair.” He reminded, trying not to laugh if only to keep them steady. She’d defiled his peacock so he had done the same to hers.
That sharp turn had her clutch at him and the hammock so she wouldn't topple out of the damn thing. She snorted with a faint smile. "It's because your peacock likes me. Can we say the same of my peahen to you?"
“She’ll like me eventually.” He wasn’t too worried about it. “Just like your cat likes me,” he reminded gently. Crookshanks had been cranky at first, but a few fish later, and they’d found understanding. Perhaps a few belly rubs he would never admit to had also helped bridge the gap.
Rolling her eyes with a small smile she shook her head. "You spoiled him rotten is what you did...gave him what I couldn't at the time." Which had been infuriating, but she couldn't fault him. Not really. Crookshanks deserved to be pampered and lazy. He'd been through a lot with her as an owner.
He doubted familiars were so fickle, especially that one, but he wouldn't correct her. "I spoil you rotten," he recalled. If only humans were as simple as familiars and pets. Dobby had been the closest to a pet he'd had, and after his loss, he hadn't bothered attaching any living thing to himself. Not if he could help it.
"I'm not as easily won over as a cat," she reminded with a faint smile. He was spoiling her rotting. Trinkets. Books. Clothes. Food. In return, he got a wife who helped him dismantle everything either of them had been a part of. A younger her would be appalled.
So she could be won over. That was news to him, though what to do with it was still something he was trying to figure out. He certainly didn't have to try half as hard as he did, and yet, he enjoyed it. Part of him blamed a lifetime of being groomed for such an instance mixed with his need to control. Wasn't that what he wanted? To control her.
The silence was an interesting response to her statement, but she let it go as she looked back up into the sky with a sigh. It was so sunny here. At least both of them would have a little sun on their skin to properly sell that they were out and about during their honeymoon. Though she was certain there would be those who thought they wouldn't leave the cottage with how well their photoshoot and interview had gone. The chemistry had been undeniable in those pictures. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought she had Draco wrapped around her little finger.