The Art of War

“What is deferred is not avoided.”
― Sir Thomas More

It had been almost a week since she had seen Draco, and she had no idea if it was because of the Dark Lord or if it was because of jobs or because he was avoiding her. Either way, it did leave her to her own devices. Since the morning after their lack of conversation, she had brewed the potions and then had gone to help Lauren work on translating the artifact. It was a lot and even more complicated than the others. There had to be something in it, and they had just managed to get a breakthrough for a potential key to translating the artifact in question. It wasn't translated yet, but it would be in the next few days.

Not only had she been doing that research with Lauren, but she had also been looking into the sacred twenty-eight and the more ancient magic around the United Kingdom. She learned more about the Malfoy family. Despite her hatred for them and their absolute desire to have a pureblood family, they had taken on half-bloods before. Just never muggles or muggle-borns. The closest they had gotten was the queen. And there weren't a lot of details about that. She found that the Malfoys were about five or six steps removed from the royal throne, which wasn't something she would have expected. Not when she had been convinced that the royalty were all muggles and had no attachments to magic. The Malfoys really were everywhere.

After finishing lunch with Luna, she had gotten up and was on her way to the library again to work with Lauren.

“And where do you think you’re going dressed like that?” He asked, catching her on her way out. “We have a gala in an hour,” he reminded. He’d sent word he knew he had, but then the last few days hadn’t been ideal. He was just now headed to get changed, blood still fresh on the back of his hand. The only trace to give an inkling to his day.

As she was grabbed, she spun around to face him and lifted a brow. "I was going to go and continue my research," she said simply, calmly. More cool than she'd been the last time they'd spoken. She hadn't heard or seen him in nearly a week, and now he wanted her to go to a gala with him. In an hour? "I would have appreciated that communicated to me, darling." Someone had dropped the ball. Either it was him or whoever he had sent to deliver that message.

“I’ll make sure the messenger gets appropriately punished, dearest,” he promised. “After the gala. Get changed. Your research can wait.” His tone was cool. They didn’t have time to bicker and fight. If she wanted a showdown they could do so after. Right then, he needed a shower. And then a change of robes. “Meet you in the foyer in forty-five minutes.” He didn’t leave room for negotiation, walking away towards his quarters to punctuate his statement.

Staring after him, she wanted to hex him. The fact she couldn't made her blood boil as she took in a deep breath and followed after him to head to her own room to get cleaned up and changed. You know there could have been an easier way to tell me. She sent down the bond as she slipped into her room and went looking through her closet at the dresses that had been commissioned.

They hadn’t exactly tested the bond over distance. From Kensington? Hardly. His mind supplied curtly. He had wanted to shove much more down the bond, but time was of the essence. They were already late, not that he’d admit such a thing. A Malfoy was never late. Especially not one of his stature.

He took his time cleaning himself and getting dressed. His dress robes a classic black and white he could easily tweak to match his wife on a whim.

Did you attempt it? She drawled lazily through his mind as she picked out two dresses to debate between and started to get things out to make her hair look better. What kind of gala is this?

Quickly, she got a black and purple dress on that flowed in waves over her body, in swirls of tulle and softer fabric that had a slit up to the mid-thigh. If he were going to be curt and ignore her, then perhaps she would make it harder to ignore her.

The very tone in his mind had him livid, and he hadn’t trusted himself to respond. Especially when she hadn’t received word. It was a problem, not one she needed to worry about.

He’d been so consumed by his own thoughts he hardly heard the next question she’d had as he dressed and made it down to the foyer with a few minutes to spare.

The lack of response shouldn't surprise her. Nor did the fact that jewelry had been left out, pieces that would glamour her scar. She tried not to be offended as she slipped that ring on and finished her makeup and hair. Soft waves framed her face with a comb, holding some of those waves up to cascade over the rest of her hair.

Putting on a necklace that rested in the dip of her collarbone, she slipped on heels and looked herself over before heading down the stairs. It was warm enough that she didn't need a cloak, and the dress was tasteful as well as teasing to her husband.

Stepping off of the stairs and into the foyer, she smoothed a hand over her dress. "I do hope this will be enough."

Turning towards her voice, he looked her over. Perhaps he should vex her more often. She was absolutely stunning. “You look bewitching,” he offered her a hand. Enough was an understatement of what she was.

“We’ll be apparating to Hogsmeade,” he gave her warning of where he planned to take her and by which means. From there, he’d give her the next bit of information.

A faint smile curved her lips at that before she took his hand and stepped closer. "I do try. If I had longer than an hour, I'd be more than bewitching." And she could likely drive him nuts. But she stepped closer to him, preparing for sidelong apparition.

You know, you could tell me more about what this is about before we arrive. Hogsmeade. It would be something to do with Hogwarts.

And miss a perfectly good carriage ride? he told her. School starts soon. My family has always been invested in education, among other things, he reminded her. Surely, she hadn’t forgotten. Perhaps he expected her to fill too many blanks with common knowledge.

Once with her on his arm, he thought of the carriage house near the train station. The hook behind his navel guided them forward through twists and turns of magical highways until they silently appeared. It nearly startled the coachman waiting for them. Stumbling and fumbling to lead them to a thestral-pulled carriage. He’d always found it grim. Much more fond of his abraxans.

It can't possibly be that close to September already.... Time was getting away from her. Her birthday was soon, and she didn't know what she was going to do with herself. Or what was to be done at all. But she held on and let him lead the journey to the carriage house.

Letting go of his arm briefly, she did go around to the front of the carriage and ran her fingers over a thestrals head gently. There had been a time when she couldn't see them at all. That time had long since passed.

After simply greeting the creatures, she moved back to her husband and stepped up into the carriage once it was ready, staring up at the castle beyond. She hadn't been here since the battle of Hogwarts.

Time had a way to trickle past them. September was approaching fast, and even out of school, it was a busy month. And since he’d added a few more tasks to his ever-growing schedule.

“I’ll likely be busy with some board stuff, but I’m sure you’ll find entertainment quickly enough,” he said once the door closed. “There should be quite a few alumni in attendance.”

Perhaps not her usual friends, but the Greengrasses would be there, and Pansy never missed an opportunity to terrorize the upper crust.

"Board things that I'll be unable to attend? How unfortunate. I do have a vested interest in education." Even if she technically never graduated from Hogwarts. The school had given her solace and allowed her to step into this world. She still knew Hogwarts: A History by heart. Still knew the passageways, the ghosts, and the grounds. But this time, it didn't feel like coming home.

“I’ll petition to have you added onto it, but there won’t be a vote tonight,” he told her simply. He had no doubt she was invested, but that didn’t mean it would bode well for him. I doubt you would enjoy the discussion to be held like how Muggle Studies is no longer a class held, he supplied. There was no point in fitting in with the statute of secrecy no longer in effect. No need to bridge gaps. If anything, the muggles were the ones with added classes.

"I had a feeling a vote would take time," she said simply with a shrug of her shoulders, though her shoulders did tense a little bit at that. You're right. I wouldn't. I'm sure History of Magic is being so skewed that I would hardly recognize it. Not to mention the curriculum for...it's no longer Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it? Are the Carrows still teaching Dark Arts? Her stomach felt sick, but she managed to keep her expression cool, calm, and collected. Like a Malfoy was practically expected to be.

“Seventh year was an abject failure, and Hogwarts has become more...suited for the times,” he added diplomatically. The Carrows have been reassigned, and there’s no more torture allowed. He supplied. History of Magic has changed, mostly because Binns has been banished. And why would we teach the Dark Arts to potential insurgents? He asked. “I think you might like the new Headmistress if you give her a chance,” he offered. It wasn’t all bad, but she certainly wouldn’t see it that way.

"I would say so, just from what I'd heard. And I wasn't even in attendance. Though I'm sure with you helpfully guiding the board that Hogwarts has become a more respectable institution again." She offered just as diplomatically as she watched the trees go by. How much had the grounds changed? She didn't even know what had happened to Hagrid. She hadn't asked, fearing the answer when they had all fled. Hopefully, he was with the madam. Of course, they banished Binns. Did they banish Peeves as well? At least the Carrows and torture are gone. Her school. Her entry to the wizarding world so twisted and changed made her want to hex someone. She had changed, too. "Who is the current headmistress?"

Even the Dark Lord himself couldn’t banish Peeves, he chuckled. Hogwarts was different, certainly, but it remained as neutral as it could be.

Well, there's one ghost I never thought I'd be glad is still at Hogwarts. Peeves would likely be causing trouble for anyone in attendance, which made her feel rather nostalgic. That piece of swamp that had been roped off for the twins likely wasn't there anymore.

Poltergeist, he corrected. Even if they’d managed, he would likely reappear from the angst and repression of teenagers. I hope we don’t encounter him tonight. He’s rather displeased with my presence.

I can't imagine he'll be pleased with me since I'm at your side. She sighed almost wistfully. Not to mention if any of the house ghosts saw them. Gossip among the portraits was likely to happen as well.

“Miss Calliope Westwick,” he told her. “And a former member of the department of mysteries has taken up the deputy title."

"Interesting." She wasn't sure what to make of it, but she hoped that was a better sign than it wasn't.

If they were being overheard, at least she was playing her part. This was one of those more personal things. He knew that. It was why he had to create distance at the event. “And soon they’ll be lucky to have two invested Malfoys,” he said as close to a promise as he could make it.

A bit of a smile curved her lips at that, still gazing out the window. "So they will. Two students that were the top of their class and rather brilliant to boot." At least all of that she could say was true. Killing him would have been easy if he wasn't so smart and observant.

“You’ll find out for yourself soon enough,” he offered as the carriage flew over. “Much of the castle had to be rebuilt, but some components have been maintained. Or so I’ve heard.”

"Have you not been here since the repairs?" She asked and turned her gaze back to him. There had been so much damage. As they got closer to where they'd get off to walk into the great hall, anxiety built. She could remember fighting in those courtyards. Dueling Death Eaters that she had since killed or now would have to work with. Remembered the bodies laid out during their reprieve from the fighting before they thought Harry had died.

Being back here was not going to put her in the best of moods, but she had a role to play. She'd have to play it well.

“Can’t say I’ve made the time,” he said, but it was more than that. It had been his greatest achievement and failure wrapped in one. The way the Dark Lord had embraced him. No amount of change could shed the image.

Keeping her on his arm, he almost felt like they were stepping over fresh corpses rather than treading newly installed cobblestone. “I heard they kept the ceiling in the great hall.” It was a simpler thought to process. He’d always liked that bit of magic and had enjoyed seeing it at their union.

A small smile curved her lips at that. "I have always been fond of that magic...When my bridesmaids mentioned it as an option for our wedding, I had to take the idea," she explained with a small smile. The same. It was the same but different. Her gaze swept over the large hourglasses that held the stones indicating house points. All empty for now. Soon, they'd be competing all over again. Had Slytherin started winning every House Cup again since they'd left school?

"I'm glad you did," he acknowledged, shifting to place his hand on the small of her back to keep her close. As if he could shield her from the past, or perhaps so she could distract him from it.

"Seems we'll both be coming back here on equal footing then. Can see all the changes firsthand," she offered smoothly enough. Taking his hand as she stepped down out of the carriage and stayed close to him. She could swear she heard the screaming and shouts of curses being blocked and cast. But it was just her memory. Her haunted memory of this place. Why couldn't she have remembered the laughter or the expressions on faces when she had come to the Yule Ball?

Her choice of words wasn't lost on him. As fair as he was, he knew they wouldn't be on equal footing for the foreseeable future if their marriage lasted that long. Eventually, one of them would meet their maker.

It was a bit more of a stretch before they made their way to the Great Hall, where the tables normally set for the houses were set to the side, similarly to how they had been for the Yule Ball. The parting of the doors to let them through showed a full event in process, though there seemed to be a ripple of acknowledgment and silence as Draco walked in, Hermione on his arm.

He made as though he didn't notice, making a beeline for the new headmistress of the school. Rebuilding had taken the better part of the last eight years. New wards and spells had needed to be woven back into the foundational magic of the school.

Looking over at him, she almost smiled a bit more genuinely. "I had noticed that." She said simply. His face when he saw her dress lightening along with the sky? Priceless. It had been utterly priceless.

As his hand moved to the small of her back, she stepped in closer. The last time she was in the Great Hall, the windows had been blown out. There had been bodies on the floor. Friends. Strangers. And now? Now, there wasn't a single sign of that. Though there were people here already milling around for the celebration. A party for the board and their partners or families. Delightful.

Ignoring the ripple of what was likely gossip or questions that seemed to go through the crowd, she walked along with him to the new headmistress. Her eyes didn't linger on any of the places in the room that reminded her of her friends. All long gone. And all of them would be horribly disappointed in her.

"Mr Malfoy," the gentle alto of a seasoned witch greeted him. "And Mrs Malfoy," she offered a small bow of her head. "We're so honored you could join us," she supplied gently, her silver robes bringing out the turquoise of her eyes. Beneath her glasses, it was clear she was sharp, and though time had etched itself in her features, she still held a pleasant demeanor.

Draco kept his wife close. "We wouldn't have missed an invitation to not only be present for the final unveiling but see where you plan to take this school year," he stated. "I haven't had a chance to place a proposition to have my wife added to the board, but you can be assured we are...invested in the future," he concluded ever the diplomat.

"It's a pleasure to be here and to see how well repairs have gone on the school," she chimed up with a polite smile. The sharpness of the woman's eyes was something she took note of, watching her features. Just because she was sharp didn't mean she was good for the job, like Umbridge. That woman still bothered her, and she was pretty sure the pink menace was still somewhere around. But the shrewdness and the glasses almost reminded her of her old head of house. She missed McGonagall terribly.

Staying on her husband's arm and letting him take the lead here was simple enough. He'd already stated what she wanted, her investment in the future, and at least that would let her know what was happening. And perhaps get her access to some of the old texts that were still housed in Hogwarts' halls.

Calliope alternated her gaze between the two of them. It reminded Draco of the way a bird of prey took in the lay of the land. "I'll be sure to have the proper forms owled to you. There's still time before the next meeting shortly after the start of term."

Hermione offered that charming smile. "Excellent. We'll make sure to keep an eye out for your owl," she stated pleasantly and sternly, clearly expecting it to be in time if there was time. But she was the expression of poise and grace.

The blond nodded once. It was acceptable. "Until then, I still wish to pursue our last discussion." He was firmer; his jaw set like it hadn't exactly gone in his favor the last time because it hadn't. Neutrality was great in theory, but he still meant to push on a few subjects. Especially their new field studies, which could be swayed too easily in either direction, and he feared what it would mean to the insurgency.

Unlike the time in his study, she didn't question out loud what it was their last discussion, but her mind brushed his with that feeling of inquiry without asking. If he wanted to tell her, he would. And if he didn't? He could simply ignore her all over again. "Should I let you two talk? I'm sure I can go find Pansy or Daphne. They're bound to be around," she glanced over towards the crowd of people and then back to her husband. The image of the supportive wife, one way or the other.

Draco took a moment to look from the headmistress to his wife. "As much as I'd love nothing more than your unwavering support in my plight, the rules are quite firm," he offered her an expression that could easily be seen as genuinely apologetic. I'll fill you in later, He offered gently. A small olive branch. "I'm certain Pansy and Daphne would be most appreciative of your company."

Hermione gave a mock dramatic sigh but smiled at the headmistress. "Lovely meeting you. Hope to get to help on the board soon," she said simply before pressing a quick kiss to her husband's jaw. You better. And if you're doing poorly in the argument, pull me in this way. Letting go of his arm, she made her way over to the collected groups of witches and wizards to see if she could find her new friends.

He refrained from responding to the demand. She’d been ignoring him, shutting him out. He’d merely taken her cue. There had been no reason not to be on the same page, but she’d been busy.

I’ll keep that in mind, he thought back through their bond, grateful for it despite the aggravation it sometimes caused. From where he stood he could see Daphne breaking away from a group to greet his wife before following the headmistress away and back to her office.

Daphne beamed as she neared her friend, approaching her with warmth and her usual air kisses.

“Hermione,” she beamed. “You don’t have a drink. We should fix that,” she added, nudging the brunette near one of the large tables set up for libations. “You just saved me from idle chatter about the need to reinstate etiquette classes,” she rolled her eyes.

Hermione returned the air kisses with a small smile that was actually genuine. "Daphne. It's wonderful to see you. Glad I could offer you a reprieve," she chuckled as she walked with her over towards one of the large tables to get herself a glass of wine.

Hard whiskey and harder drinks were for the comfort of her home. Appearances seemed to dictate something lighter was absolutely needed now. "Etiquette classes? Next, you're going to tell me someone thinks that witches should only be taught charms and healing," she drawled with a roll of her eyes. If that were where things were headed, she'd be putting her foot firmly down.

“It was a consideration Draco put an end to. It’s apparently not uncommon in parts of Asia,” she forced a smile. “These boards are…infuriating and fascinating to witness. I’m not on it, but my father is.” She shrugged. “Sometimes I get to sit in for him.”

Well, one thing to thank her husband about. But she wasn't surprised. He seemed to like how intelligent she was—encouraged it, really. "Well, that does sound like Draco. We'll be putting in to have me on the board very soon. Can't have Hogwarts declining, now can we?" Or falling behind other schools. Or people like the Carrows back in charge. "Was that the most infuriating thing you've heard come from those meetings, or was there something worse?"

“There’s always worse; thankfully, most are moderates. Want school success mostly. Ensure those international interests.” Daphne tried to think of a few meetings. “When they were rebuilding, many wanted to redesign certain aspects. I know wands won’t be accessible for any student outside of Hogwarts. They’ll remain here at the school until graduation. It’s unheard of,” she exchanged her glass of wine for a new one. Needing another drink.

That had her blink a few times. "Students are going to be leaving their wands here when they aren't in school?" That was absolutely absurd. How could they even think about doing that? Possibly because of them running off their seventh year? That was part of it, wasn't it?

Daphne nodded. “Only thing that passed unanimously. After heated debates. In the end, they all agreed that practicing over summers left unfair advantages in certain cases and, mostly, the fear of attempting to recruit children to either side.” She could agree with the last part, but she knew better. It just meant the old families would have their children use heirloom wands to practice.

Hermione had to take a long drink from her glass of wine and resist the urge to insult her husband along that bond. Of course, that was why. It made her skin crawl to think about it, honestly. "...I see," she said simply without going any further into it. Because she wouldn't be able to keep her role if she did.

They were words that Daphne was used to hearing from another Malfoy. "You don't approve?" she asked; there wasn't any judgment, only surprise. Of all the people that might have leaned for it, she had imagined Hermione would be. "It's a trial run for a year. The first years are getting their wands at the ceremony. Everyone else will find theirs in their dorms upon arrival."

She had to consider how to answer that, and she swirled the wine in her glass slowly. "I...don't. Those with family lines that keep the wands of relatives will get to train and practice during the summer, while those who do not have those means won't. There will be an unfair advantage, and you'll see a difference in their performance come the school year," she said simply, keeping it as diplomatic as possible. Ignoring the fact that if that had happened to them, they'd all be dead.

"I trained with my great-aunt's wand before I got mine," she said. "I got more scorch marks than successes," she reminded how fickle a wand that wasn't earned could be. "Also had a small army of tutors," she added. "Knew all my incantations before I even entered a classroom. I'm not even remembered for my academics," she admitted. It made her flush. She hadn't been a bad student in the least, but she hadn't been getting outstandings at every turn either. And it wasn't like she'd had another reputation for explaining her acceptables and exceeding expectations.

A faint smile curved her lips and she gave a slight shrug. "I didn't get to practice much magic outside of school, but I memorized my textbooks and pushed through it. I know some families wouldn't have the resources to help their students with borrowing a wand or even helping give them tutors," she pointed out. Some would fail without the practice. The only reason Ron hadn't was she had helped. And remembering Ron here, of all places, sent a pang of guilt through her that almost made her falter before she took a sip of her wine.

"Do I have to save you both from boring academic talk?" Pansy drawled, clicking her heels forward towards the pair. "Honestly, you should be finding a way to get laid so you can liven up," she air kissed Daphne's cheek. "And you," she air kissed Hermione's cheek. "Well, you have no reason not to be glowing," she shrugged.

Daphne flushed. "It's not boring. It's important," she countered and took a sip of wine, dropping the subject at the glare Pansy offered. "Or perhaps I should broaden my horizons," she rolled her eyes as she muttered the words. It would beat pining after that one healer at work.

She actually chuckled as she glanced over at Pansy. Air kissing the other brunette's cheeks had her shrug her shoulder. "My husband has been rather busy as of late. No time," she said simply as if it didn't matter. And it didn't. She shouldn't just be falling into his bed anytime he was home. Even if good sex was one of the things, they could offer each other.

"But Daphne is right. This is rather important. Especially since some wizards seem to think it proper to try and limit what witches can learn again," she muttered with a slight sniff and roll of her eyes. She'd hex them ten ways to Sunday and still not break a sweat. Looking around the room at the people present, she glanced over at Pansy. "Is there anyone here that would even catch the attention of either of you?"

Pansy looked her over. "If he made time before, he can make time now," she reminded. "Ride him in his sleep," she shrugged. Pansy snorted at the last comment. "They try to bring chains back too. It never passes." She rolled her eyes. "Too many women on the board for the chauvinistic shit, which is good," she added.

"There's a delegation from every wizarding school we recognize." There was always potential in foreign dignitaries. Durmstrang, Castelobruxo, Beauxbatons, Mahoutokoro and Uagadou had all sent a small delegation. Nearly every school known except Ilvermorny had come to celebrate the return of Hogwarts or to poke at its weaknesses.

Hermione chuckled slightly at that but didn't comment. It wasn't just him who was avoiding their bed; she was, too. But her eyes did widen at that offer from Pansy, blush filling her cheeks. "Parkinson!" She hissed, shaking her head, glancing around, and then back at her. "Absolutely not."

That felt far too much like taking his choice out of the equation. There were a lot of lines she would cross, but that wasn't one of them. She was glad that none of the chauvinistic shit would pass. That gave her some hope. It was something she hoped her lovely husband hadn't been tempted to try and pass.

Looking around the room, she did recognize a few faces from their own attempts to recruit foreign aid. It never worked out well.

Daphne followed the two's gaze. "Not sure I'd trust Beauxbatons or Mahoutokoro delegates. They have those gendered classes," she felt her jaw clench. "Castelobruxo, though, strong nature connection and spicy options," she bit her lower lip.

Pansy beamed. "Finally thinking right," she praised the brunette. "Go introduce yourself. I'll come save you if I see you struggling," she promised, giving Daphne a nudge.

A bit more of a smile curved her lips as she nudged Daphne with her shoulder. "Go on. See if they're all right. All in the name of academic diplomacy, or what have you," she murmured, making it sound far less serious but at least giving the woman an opening that she needed.

Looking over at Pansy, she couldn't help but smile a little bit. "Any luck on your end, Parkinson? Or still just seeing where life takes you?"

"Oh I'm working my man," she assured the brunette. "He just doesn't know it yet," she shrugged. When she'd heard Viktor Krum was going to be there, she finally had her in without needing to use work to do so. All she had to do was talk to the right person at the right time. Draco could be annoyed with her later.

A bit of a smile curved her lips, and she raised a brow. "Still going after Krum?" She asked, teasing more than anything. He couldn't possibly be on the board for Durmstrang...could he? It had her scanning the crowd once again, just to see as she sipped at her wine, noting anyone that she recognized.

Pansy sipped her glass of wine. "I'm not going after anyone. He's coming after me," she quipped as if this was the only logical explanation. Obviously, she wasn't going to do the chasing. It didn't mean she wouldn't stack the deck in her favor. It wasn't like Krum would even dare to try anything with Hermione unless he was suicidal, and somehow she doubted he was. Then again, enough concussions could make the sanest person do dumb things.

She watched Daphne from afar. "She seems to be getting attention."

She actually laughed. "Probably for the best. He doesn't tend to like being chased," she offered. So there was that bit of a consolation. At least Pansy would be nice to Viktor if nothing else. And the woman was smart. Manipulative but smart. Despite Viktor coming off like a brute, he did like intelligence in his women. He didn't mind just listening. And she had a feeling that Pansy could talk.

"She's gorgeous. If she didn't get attention, I would be genuinely surprised," she offered with a shake of her head before sipping her wine and nearly choking when she did see Viktor talking to another board member from Beauxbaton. That would have been another great warning to have. Without even meaning to, the word fuck slid along the bond that she still didn't know how to block completely.

You'll have to wait for that, darling, his voice crooned through the bond.

"She is," Pansy nodded. It was annoying, that easy girl next door look with a sultry side. She did her best to avoid looking at the Durmstrang delegates. No, Hermione Malfoy would attract all the attention all on her own, and she just needed to be there for the ride. "And good because I don't chase," she sipped her wine.

The way his voice crooned into her mind had her almost shiver. Damn it. Why did that tone just....do something to her? Didn't mean to say a thing. She stated simply, trying to sound calm but not sure she managed it.

As she stared at the Durmstrang delegates, Viktor turned his head and seemed to blink as he saw her there. Mentally, she tried to beg him not to walk over here, but of course, he excused himself from the delegates he was speaking with to walk over.

" 'Mione," he greeted, though he sounded uncertain, glancing between her and Parkinson.

Offering a smile, she tucked her hair behind her ear. "Good evening, Viktor. Lovely to see you again."

He seemed to blink a moment and then refocus. "Yes. Vonderful. Heard about your marriage...Congratulations?" It sounded like a question even when it wasn't meant to be.

This was painful. It had knots turning in her stomach. He was such a nice man, but they both knew what they had been to each other. But he had also been helping the insurgency, and Draco knew it. Fuck. "Thank you. It all happened rather quickly or I would have invited you," she said smoothly before turning. "I'm being rather rude. Viktor, this is Pansy Parkinson. Pansy, Viktor."

Viktor, to his credit, recovered more quickly than some might have thought, and he offered his hand to the other brunette. "Mz Parkinson."

"Mr Krum," she used the same distance, taking a moment before offering him a dainty hand. "Hermione was just telling me about her honeymoon with Draco," she explained, filling in any blanks that could have been, though even she wasn't so foolish as to think he hadn't known, not by the tentative questions. "It almost seems as though she plans to abandon my company for his," she sighed. “Perhaps you can fill in the blanks we missed during our interview. After all, we have a friend in common," she offered. Even playing coy, she was forward; she couldn't help it.

Viktor took the young witch's hand and actually lifted it up to kiss the back of her hand. His social graces had improved since his last time at Hogwarts, and he was following along a little bit more.

All Hermione could do was barely manage not to blush at that. At least Pansy had no details about her honeymoon to actually provide. If she had any idea that for the first week, the two of them had been unable to be apart for very long and that they had barely functioned as people, she would be the brightest shade of red. "It was quite the lovely honeymoon. Some warmth and sun was just what I needed," she murmured, glancing at Pansy a moment.

The Bulgarian looked between the pair of them, seeming to consider with a slightly more concentrated expression, seemingly trying to put together what he should do. "Vonce Draco comes back, I vill gladly keep you company and fill in vhat blanks I can," he offered with a small smile, giving her more attention, only glancing at Hermione once or twice from the corner of his gaze, clearly realizing that he couldn't pay too much attention to her.

"She's great company," she promised Viktor with a smile, and she looked at Pansy. "And he's a very good listener." She offered, trying not to fidget.

Pansy had seemed pleased by his manners and words, smiling approvingly. “Perfect. We can always switch to German if it’s easier.” She supplied, remembering his use during their interview. Even then, she hadn’t given away the extent of her linguistic abilities. To say her father had threatened to send her there as a punishment. There was no need to show off all her talents in one sitting. “Once Draco arrives,” she added. That git better arrive. Or she’d personally ensure he got cockblocked in retaliation.

“Well speak of the devil,” she said to her friend as he appeared in all his transparent jealousy. Good.

Draco hadn’t planned to bother his wife, but then she’d spoken that expletive and tried to cover it. “Viktor,” he extended a hand. I’m sure you didn’t, he supplied late to her earlier thought. It was curt, though he showed nothing on the outside. “It’s been…far too long.”

Viktor kept a small smile on his face as he focused on Pansy, at least realizing he was being redirected. "I don't often get to speak English. Ve can switch vhenever necessary," he offered her easily enough, though as soon as Pansy said speak of the devil, his brow furrowed and he glanced to the side, seeing Draco. He straightened up a little bit more and he took his hand. "Draco," he greeted politely.

I didn't expect him to be here and was shocked. She countered as she smiled, moving to step closer to her husband, finishing off her glass of wine. All she wanted to do now was slip away and get another drink.

"Very long. Congratulations on your vedding to 'Mione. Very lucky man," he congratulated, actually sounding genuine. "I vill let you and your vife spend time together. I have promised some of my time to Mz Parkinson," he explained and actually offered the brunette his arm. "Shall ve?"

Hermione almost relaxed at that and offered a charming smile. "I hope you two have a lovely evening. We'll catch up more later," she offered before looking to Draco with that same charming smile. "I'll be right, darling. Going to get a bit more wine," she explained before walking back to the refreshment table.

Pansy had half expected a duel, instead she’d gotten exactly what she wanted. Arm settling in Viktor’s she easily smiled. “Let’s practice your English then,” she offered. “Off the record, of course,” she added. She was drinking, hardly working.

Draco had felt like he’d just witnessed a whirlwind. If Viktor hadn’t clearly been Pansy’s prey, he might have wondered if he had come to glean his wife. He tried to ignore the bitterness it left on his tongue. He’d had things to do, had come to check on her, and now he was alone again.

“Sickle for your thoughts,” a familiar voice asked from behind him.

Astoria presented him with a glass of firewhiskey held so he’d have a line of sight to her breasts nearly spilling out the emerald gown she wore, a snake necklace hanging off her neck with its head between her breasts.

Draco felt his jaw tense as he took the glass but didn’t touch it. He wasn’t sure what exactly felt off, but he trusted his gut. “Nothing,” he supplied cooly. It was none of her business.

She felt frazzled. Part of her felt guilty for not being the one to tell Viktor that she had gotten engaged and married. Another part of her felt guilty for Draco seeing her with her ex, and yet another part of her was mad at him now for being swayed, likely, into making sure the kids couldn't keep their wands over breaks or over the summer. It was maddening. How did they expect them to properly learn or train or anything?

It took her a moment to get another glass of wine, making small talk with the person running refreshments, and she tried to keep her calm. As she got her wine, she took a sip, gave a quick sweep of the room again, and then saw Astoria with her husband. In a rather low-cut dress. They were friends, though, weren't they? She had to let them talk for a minute or two before she'd head over.

Even if they were exes. The memory of what Luna said soured her mood further. They hadn't exactly warmed over tea either, had they? Taking a sip of her wine, she tried to sit still for a moment, seeing what was happening there.

Astoria’s hand settled on his chest, fingers pinching his lapel as she spoke to him, keeping her gaze on his. There was a flirtatious edge to how she tilted her head and attempted to draw closer.

Draco’s hand covering hers, pinning her by holding a single digit at an unnatural angle. A motion none would see as vicious or violent unless they were close enough.

Hermione felt that jealousy spike through her, and she took another sip of wine before she carefully strode back over to her husband, stopping right next to him and leaning into his side.

"Darling," she crooned the word before she looked at the other woman with a smile that did not reach her eyes. "Good evening, Astoria."

Draco wanted to tear into the woman before him. Instead, he gave that empty ring finger of hers a final tug to get her hand off him, filling her palm with the glass she’d brought him.

He straightened his robes, brushing off the space Astoria had touched as though it’d been contaminated by a muggle.

“Mrs Malfoy,” Astoria greeted. “I seem to have gotten a drink too many,” she tried to lighten the moment. The absolute venom she was receiving was sobering.

Draco slipped his fingers between Hermione’s and kissed her knuckles. He needed the grounding his wife offered lest he curse the younger Greengrass. “Dearest,” he greeted his wife, pouring himself into that singular word. He wouldn’t be curt with Hermione no matter how angry he was.

The way he brushed off her touch reassured her a little bit, though as soon as Astoria was off of her husband, she carefully pressed into his side a bit more, letting him lace their fingers together and press a kiss to her knuckles. It actually drew a more genuine smile from her at that. Something she couldn't have explained. "Thank you for waiting for me," she told him, pressing a light kiss to his jaw before she shot a look at Astoria.

"Now, Astoria, I thought we were on a first-name basis over tea," she drawled, but there was no warmth in her gaze for the other brunette. She lightly squeezed her husband's hand. "It seems you have. I do appreciate your thoughtfulness in attempting to take care of my husband," she drawled.

Was this how he had felt seeing her around Viktor? Was she becoming just as obsessed as he was? Do I want to know what she was saying?

Astoria shot a glance from Hermione to Draco when she mentioned first name basis. As if she could convey what she couldn’t say.

“We were then.” There was a skittishness to her. “Now you’re a Malfoy,” she reminded. To everyone around them, she was just the sister of the bridesmaid.

She offered me something I would have no interest in, regardless of our vows. His mind supplied to his wife, keeping her close. The soft kiss. The way she tucked herself closer. At least she could play like she cared. He couldn’t help but glare at Astoria in a manner that would easily make his enemies quake.

“I should go, I’m obviously one too many…” her voice wasn’t nearly as confident as normal.

“You should.”

Looking at Astoria, Hermione lifted a brow. "Now I'm a Malfoy. But you knew I was to be a Malfoy when we had tea, Astoria. The ring was already on my finger. So what could have possibly changed?" She drawled, clearly daring Astoria to say it as she watched her that closely.

Let me guess...Herself. Since you're exes and all. Her mind drawled and she couldn't help the fact that her words, especially in her mind, were flavored with jealousy. She hated feeling jealous. And to feel jealous of a pureblood witch that thought she could get everything? It shouldn't have mattered. Shouldn't make her want to hex the other woman, but it did.

"Unless you'd like to tell me what you and my dear husband were talking about," she offered, her fingers lightly trailing up and down Draco's arm above his robes, not shying away from him at all. She didn't hesitate to touch him, appropriately, of course, and carefully avoiding his Dark Mark, but not in a way that said she feared it. More in a way that seemed to imply she knew he didn't like it touched.

Draco enjoyed the feel of those fingers on his sleeve. Roaming him in a way few could claim to know. He’d ensured through their vows she knew he wouldn’t stray, and still, she held the other woman in this exchange. I’d hardly consider her an ex. I slept with her once, twice if you include her as a third wheel, he shrugged. He hadn’t bothered with emotional connections. Pansy and him had been an item in school, before things had gotten complicated, but it hadn’t been the same. They’d just made light of an opportunity and remained friends.

Astoria seemed to consider her position a moment. “But you weren’t a Malfoy. We were on equal footing. I’m acknowledging that,” she said. It was no different than if her friend had become queen or risen to a title. Draco was as close to it in their world. “I offered something he clearly has no interest in,” she wanted to touch the finger he’d nearly broken. She could feel it swelling against the second glass she held.

As Hermione touched him, he shifted to snake an arm behind her waist. He leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I have everything I need,” he assured her, not bothering with Astoria. Are you jealous? He couldn’t stop himself from asking. He’d made it clear he never stayed with anyone, had refused to risk anyone, and still, she had called them exes, as if they’d been anything to him. Daphne, Pansy, he could call them friends to some extent, but Astoria he’d always seen as an opportunist.

"I'd hardly say that, Astoria," she drawled, actually narrowing her eyes on the woman a moment, eyeing her. She wanted to be mean, cruel even. "But perhaps it's for the best to have that distance when speaking to me or my husband. Depending on what it was you offered him, of course," Her voice was nearly icy. She'd heard and seen how some of the pureblood witches responded to being slighted, intentionally or not. She spared a glance for her finger but continued to lightly trail her fingers along her husband's arm.

Jealousy was not a becoming emotion. Neither was possessiveness. At least, they weren't supposed to be. But hadn't she found it somewhat hot that Draco would harm anyone who touched her? Threesomes? Interesting. The two words were a bit more curt and she had to control herself not to grimace as she stayed close to him. Turning her attention to her husband at that kiss to her cheek, she smiled a bit more, not realizing how genuine of a smile it actually was.

She could feel others sizing up the situation, seeing how both of them reacted. Jealous? Why would I be jealous? Even mentally, her voice sounded a little bit higher, like she would have been trying to explain it away. She couldn't lie, but she could avoid it. Avoiding the answer was exactly what she did, which was an answer in itself, wasn't it? Jealous. She was jealous.

The brunette seemed to shrink back despite her usual display. “Of course,” she said, taking a step back. “As a friend, though, perhaps the distance you should be shortening is the one you leave between your husband,” she concluded, giving a mock curtsy. Though she began to take her leave, she didn’t turn her back.

Draco didn’t want to interrupt his wife. She had come to set her terms, and he was there for it. Not as pleasant as it promises to be, his mind was nonchalant about it. It was a teenage dream for so many, and if anything, he had found it disappointing. You going to let her go? We can always find a more permanent solution later… he offered. She was hot when she was angry and jealous. Even if she denied it.

That mock curtsy and what she said had her eyes flare with a bit more anger. "Oh, I think you've already shown that being a friend isn't what you're interested in, Greengrass," she said coldly. If she tried this again, she would hex her. Or do something to her. That bit of burning jealousy and irritation made it difficult to appear cool and collected. But she turned her attention back to Draco, her fingers trailing down his arm to lace their fingers together.

Well, glad you won't miss them then. Men. At least he didn't find it enjoyable, not that he could do anything if he wanted to. Fidelity vows. For now, she can go. Unless you have a better idea...And fine. Yes. I'm jealous. She admitted before taking a sip of her wine and keeping her gaze on her husband. She didn't even look to see where her two other 'friends' had wound up. At least Daphne seemed genuine in her friendship. Pansy too. Though that might have been because she guided Pansy to someone she could get to chase her.

A better idea. While she laced their fingers he pulled her in and met her gaze now that she faced him. The hand he’d settled on the small of her back smoothed up and across her back to reappear at her cheek. “Do you remember the rule I gave you that very first night?” He murmured, looking from her eyes to her lips. You have nothing to feel jealous about. He promised, leaning in to kiss her lips ever so gently. He hadn’t kissed anyone but her in years. Since the fourth year, really. There was the sound of broken glass and heels clicking away from them. Twelve years since anyone had seen Draco Malfoy make a public display of affection.

Everyone else should be jealous of you, he pushed down the bond, his thumb brushing her cheek. “Shall we go on that tour of the castle then, darling?”

The feeling of his hand tracing up her back almost made her drop her wine glass, but she was far more composed than that. A man hadn't made her so flustered or fuddled in years. The only way that Viktor or Oliver had made her heart rate spike was from exertion rather than anything like this. "I do," she murmured. It was why she didn't try to kiss him in public, why she knew there was a formal sort of distance he expected. Her heart felt like it skipped a beat as he leaned in to kiss her gently. Kissing him back was becoming as easy as breathing. Her eyes fluttered closed as she kissed him back gently, ignoring the sound of broken glass and the heels clicking away. The girl could seethe all she wanted.

Everyone? I doubt everyone would feel jealous. But she already sounded calmer, more content, along their bond. A possessive thought bubbled up despite herself, not realizing it might whisper across their bond. Mine. Leaning into the gentle touch of his hand, she smiled a little bit more. "That sounds perfect," she breathed the words, pausing for just a moment before brushing another light kiss to his lips. No need to be overly pushy about it. But she'd missed his kisses and could at least admit that to herself.

Before he could answer a single word echoed through their bond. He made no motion to suggest he’d heard it. If anything he had to wonder if he hadn’t been the one to think it. She was his. He was hers. He wasn’t sure what to make of it if she was finally accepting it. Did it change anything.

Instead of pulling away, he merely shifted so she stood at this side, a possessive arm around her. Her lips still lingered on his. He imagined snogging her in earnest once they were back in the carriage.

That image in her head was faint, but it seemed to echo through that bond. It made her shiver and her breath hitch slightly. Part of her wanted it. Part of her wanted to pull away from him. Slowly, she broke the kiss and stayed tucked in against his side, taking a slow sip from her wine.

When looking around the room, people quickly looked away, trying to find somewhere else to put their attention. Oh. I do have one bone to pick with you about the curriculum I heard about while you were speaking with the headmistress. Taking the wands from students when they aren't here? Have you all gone mental?

How old was I when the dark lord marked me and demanded I kill the headmaster? He demanded. Not bothering to supply the answer. The things he had done that summer. It had left him scarred. I won’t be having teenagers enlisted because some power-hungry men want more power. His mind was curt and sharp. She and her friends had had their army, but he had been one of many to get tapped before their time. Most weren’t there to say they survived it. He thought of Crabbe and Goyle. Muggle Studies has been replaced with field practice, which might as well be grooming them for team combat. He was obviously annoyed.

“Most of the secret passages have been removed,” he said, looking at a statue that had once shifted to give way to a tunnel.

Incredibly young. And it shouldn't have happened. But pureblood families that have heirloom wands will still have their children practicing. It gives them an unfair advantage. They'll struggle behind with a lack of being able to prepare themselves for all of this. She insisted, less curt and more trying to sway him. This was a foolish plan and once she got on the board she honestly intended to say as much. A united front in some things, but she would not be a united front on this with him. Field practice...I don't like the sound of that. Is that what you were talking to her about?

"Have they? I can't say I'm surprised, but I can say I'm disappointed," she murmured, glancing at one of the statues with a soft sigh. Security-wise, it was needed.

We’ll talk about it later, he assured her. He didn’t like the turns his alma mater was taking, and though he wouldn’t prevent its students from defending themselves, there were orders coming from the ministry that made him feel like there was a lot more going on than he had time for. What side it was coming from was something he couldn’t quite decide. Perhaps it was both, or perhaps the Ministry thought it could hold its own.

“The wards are much more robust this time around,” he noted. “Anywhere you’d like to visit?” He asked. He had just needed to get away from the Great Hall. From the mass of people and the pettiness of society.

Promise? Making sure that the students here were prepared for what was out there was something that she was rather passionate about. She had been when she was in school as well. It was why the DA had been started, why they had fought so much against Umbridge. This almost felt very Umbridge-adjacent. The woman had done far too well in the change in regime, and all she wanted to do was keep that level of bureaucracy from interfering in the school again. Dumbledore would be turning in his grave. That almost had her stop. Had they removed his portrait?

"Beneficial for a number of reasons. Far too many ways for outsiders to get in otherwise, and the students should be safe," she murmured. Staying pressed close, she thought about that. If she wanted to hurt him, she could say the astronomy tower, but she didn't want to go there either. "...The inner courtyard. I'd say Gryffindor Tower, but I'd rather not be potentially berated by The Fat Lady."

“Inner courtyard it is,” he nodded, and with it, the assurance that they would talk later. He hadn’t just married her for the optics. He just hoped that she wouldn’t get too out of hand with something that would easily become far too personal. “I’d take you to the Slytherin common room, but I’m not sure I want to go back,” he said honestly. They’d been held there for a portion of the battle. Not that it had kept him there long. He had left attending this gala as a maybe and had waited for the last possible second to attend. Duty had outweighed desire, and still, he had trouble reconciling it.

"Thank you," she murmured genuinely with a small smile, staying close to him as they walked the familiar halls. "I don't blame you...I miss the Gryffindor common room myself...far too many memories there, though," she sighed gently. At least she was being honest with him. There were too many times she had curled up near the fire with her best mates, trying to get them to organize their assignments planner, trying to get them to do any of their papers in a timely fashion, trying to discipline the twins. A pang went through her at that last one.

At least he didn’t have to explain distance with her, that need to separate himself from parts of his past. It got messier with his friends. Some who either felt the need to praise things he felt nothing for or search for closure he couldn’t offer them. A row of classrooms extended, doors closed, and lights off, as was to be expected this time of year.

“We‘ll leave soon if you’re ready,” he offered once they were in the inner courtyard, a newly built fountain in its center. “I couldn’t deny you a peek around the castle before doing so,” he added. After all, he had told her they would.

As they walked into the courtyard, she let go of his arm and actually took several steps into it. Hallways linking back into the castle wrapped around this courtyard and it felt so different looking at that fountain at the center. So much had happened here.

She strode over to the fountain, her fingers trailing against the stone as she looked around. Soon, new students would be here to learn. Laughter might actually fill the halls. Duels. Trading of chocolate frog cards. Avoiding the Bertie Botts beans or embracing the flavors. Were Muggleborns even receiving letters right now? Looking into the water, she got a slightly more far-off expression as she thought, chewing at her bottom lip gently.

As she walked and took in the courtyard, he watched on the outskirts. The sight made him feel like he’d trapped her, and she was discovering a new enclosure. She might have been with more liberties than she’d had in the past eight years, but part of him knew he had caged her in a way. They both shared his gilded enclosure now.

“The quill room hasn’t changed too many people’s grievances,” he said, knowing what she probably didn’t dare ask. “Though accommodations are being made,” he continued. “I’ll fill you in later,” he promised. It was just a lot.

Her fingers lingered on the stone of the fountain as she glanced over her shoulder at him, arching a brow. "The Muggleborns are still allowed at Hogwarts?" There was a small note of something like hope in her voice. Perhaps it wasn't as terrible as she thought. True, they'd fall behind in studies, especially with their parents being non-magical, unless they could memorize the texts as she did, but it was...something.

Accommodations. That had her frown a little bit, worrying at her bottom lip again before she glanced away. That didn't sound nearly as promising, and she was afraid to know what those accommodations were. "...what happened to the room of requirement?" At least, that was a slightly safer topic of conversation.

“Still exists, but it’s been purged of anything that could constitute a security risk,” he chose to stick to the topic of the castle itself. There was a lot that would happen he knew she wouldn’t approve of. He didn’t understand why the wand thing bothered her. With the statute of secrecy, most couldn’t practice unless they had magical folk at home. Nothing had changed, except there would be no summer missions to prove allegiance.

“Dueling, gobstones, and a new language club are being added. Hence, the other schools. Most learn another language or two alongside their curriculum.” Most purebloods did. Now, it would merely be streamlined.

"It can still create certain things, but that is reassuring," she murmured. There had been so many things in that room's natural state that she wasn't sure what else could have been in there. How had they combed through it? Had they found the portrait that led to the Hogshead? Too many questions that would tip her hand and make it harder for anyone looking to help to be unable to do so."No strange artifacts discovered when they cleared it out?" Safer conversation. She knew about the cabinet. He knew about the diadem. What else could have been in there was just her own curiosity.

A small smile curved her lips at that addition to the curriculum. It briefly had her wonder how Ron and Harry would have handled that. Not well, more than likely. "Better supervisors for the dueling club? Can't have a repeat of when Lockhart was here," she tried to joke a little bit.

“A rotation of duelists. I believe your friend Viktor offered to show for a week,” he told her. He wasn’t stupid. They’d kept in contact, which led him to two conclusions. One bothered him more than the other, and it wasn’t the political one.

“The purge took over three years to conclude, and the depravity wasn’t limited to the dark arts from the list I was provided. We added sanitization to its base spells just in case any other hormonal teenager makes ridiculous demands beyond their comprehension.” Hadn’t he been young and stupid once? He needed this to be a safe place, even if it wasn’t the same.

A small smile curved her lips at that, and she glanced over at Draco. "Well, that should allow better perspectives for the students as well. Seeing how other countries duel...better international cooperation," she murmured. Though that did have her a little worried for what he might be doing when he was here other than helping show them how to duel.

That would be...odd. What sort of ridiculous demands were on that list? A place to practice spells in secret? Would it alert the faculty if certain demands were made now? It made her head spin just a little bit, but she didn't ask. She didn't want the answer. Knew how she'd react if she did get the answer. Rather than ask anything more, she finished off the wine in her glass and let out a slow breath. It was Hogwarts, and yet it wasn't either. Just another thing that had drastically changed due to everything that had happened.

At least he wouldn't feel as guilty if he met one in the wild he had to cut down. Nothing surprised him anymore. He merely expected the worst at every turn.

When she finished her glass, it vanished from her grasp, likely returning to the kitchens to be cleaned. "Anywhere else you'd like to visit?" The question lingered. There was only one place he could think she might visit, and it was the island with his corpse. The one place he wouldn't follow. Not unless he had to.

Looking towards the grounds at that question, she seemed like she was considering it. But guilt twisted in her stomach. She couldn't face his grave. His tomb. Not when she was now behind enemy lines and doing things he wouldn't have approved of. It had a little bit of the color drain from her cheeks.

"I'd say walking the grounds, but I'm not exactly dressed for it," she chuckled slightly, the sound not as genuine as she smoothed her fingers over the dress. "You don't have anything further you need to do while we're here?"

“Nothing that would be productive,” he responded honestly. He could have threatened the headmistress, but then she would merely find another loophole to keep him sidelined. Even he couldn’t quite control the convoluted nature of bureaucracy.

“We’ll come back,” he promised. Likely every six weeks for the board meetings. Knowing his wife she’d volunteer when there were larger events even if they didn’t have children present. Likely never would.

That promise eased something in her. She'd work up the Gryffindor courage to go back up to that tower eventually. To head to the astronomy tower and stand where she had with Ron and Harry before they'd left here for the last time. To walk near the lake and see the giant squid. If they had removed the squid, that would be a step too far with everything else. And maybe she could visit that grave at some point.

"I'll make sure to wear sensible shoes on at least one of those trips." Walking the grounds, seeing that the damage wasn't as bad anymore, might do her some good. Even if all of the memories were bittersweet. Though now she was even more amused by the memory on the grounds he probably hated. The first time, she punched him in the face and insulted him. It almost made her laugh to think about it.

“You’re a witch,” he reminded dryly. “I’ll teach you a spell if I must,” he all but rolled his eyes. He’d learned it as a kid so his mother would be inclined to walk off the paths and cobblestone roads with him. She didn’t need to know that.

Offering his arm, he turned towards the place they came. He had no intention to make it back to the great hall. Didn’t want to see Astoria and certainly even less Krum. He’d recognized the bitterness of her feelings because he’d felt it too when he’d seen Viktor Krum approach his wife.

Looking back over at him, she lifted a brow with a half smile. "I know how to transfigure and summon shoes. But sensible with the outfit?" She explained but was clearly joking a little bit. Being able to dress up for a few weeks hadn't changed the fact that she cared more about academics and what was right than her own fashion sense. Though the outfits had been something else.

Taking his arm, she stepped in closer, looking up at him. After how he had reacted earlier, she couldn't help her own question that bubbled up. At least it was better than asking about what he hadn't told her yet. He'd promised later. She'd give him that. Were you jealous of Viktor?

“Or just add a small invisible platform to redistribute the weight,” he countered easily. “It’s what most women that aren’t Blacks do,” he shrugged. He wouldn’t bring his mother into this when there were three hard-headed ones, or rather had been, he supposed.

That wasn't something she had been aware of. It did have her lift a brow slightly. Heels hadn't exactly been part of what she handled while she was with the insurgency. Unless she was undercover and then she didn't need to keep up appearances. "Interesting...." She might actually have to look up that spell.

I didn’t kill him, he offered instead. She’d deflected his own accusations towards Astoria. Lot more history on your end, he reminded. She might have just sought comfort, but he was someone she trusted with that. And unlike Wood, he couldn’t really fault her.

I do appreciate that. He's a good man. I wouldn't try anything, considering I'm clearly someone else's witch now. Phrasing it that way was still so odd. His. She was his. Was never anything serious, Draco. And she couldn't lie. So, he hopefully believed it.

Her first statement only told him that with freedom, she would have. Even if it wasn't serious, that didn't help the feeling he felt. The only redeeming part was that she was his. She would only be his unless he died. Not someone else's, he reminded. Mine. The single word that had surfaced in the great hall.

"Did you have anyone you wanted to say goodbye to?" he asked. He didn't want to go back in, but he would if she felt a need to.

That one word sent a shiver down her spine. Yes, Draco. I'm yours. All the more reason Viktor wouldn't do anything. Especially when he saw how close the two of them appeared to be in the Great Hall. Pausing near the door, she glanced inside. Was there anyone she wanted to say goodbye to?

"No. I'll send an owl to Pansy and Daphne. Both of them were busy with new friends," she chuckled slightly, staying on her husband's arm. "We can go back home."

Though it felt nice to hear her say she was his, he knew it was just their vows. He hadn't expected that that would almost be disappointing. He blamed the first week of their honeymoon. Part of him wanted to ask if she regretted her decision, but he didn't want to hear the answer.

"There should be a carriage outside for us," he assured her, nudging her forward.

That light nudge was all she needed to walk past the door to the Great Hall and down the steps. The school was so very changed, just like everything else. She still didn't know how to feel about all of this—them, what they were doing—everything was jumbled in her mind.

"So there's nothing else you have to do this evening?" It was a subtle enough way of asking if he was going to be at the manor for a little while.

"I don't have plans per say, but I imagine you want to get back to your research," he said in understanding. She seemed to have wanted to avoid him at every turn, and he hadn't fought her. After the evening and their various disagreements, he wasn't expecting her to want anything to do with him for the night.

A carriage pulled in, and he motioned for her to enter, following close by. He cast a few charms to maintain privacy.

"I think for the night, I should have a bit of a break. Lauren can handle it," she offered. Spending time around him might be something. And kissing him had made her want to kiss him again. The taste of him on her lips had been nice. And they had more talking to do after all. Especially with all the things he'd said he'd tell her later. Stepping up into the carriage, she took her seat and actually shifted closer to him once he was inside of it.

Her hand brushed his, half tempted to kiss him from that brief desire he had thought of in the Great Hall.

With how close she was and how eager she touched him, he couldn't help but wonder what had changed. As much as he wanted to not question it and accept it as it was, he couldn't help himself. "And how much wine did you drink?" he asked. If she wasn't all there, even if inhibited, he couldn't. Wouldn't.

He shifted to meet her gaze as though looking her in the eyes would tell him if she was being honest or not. He wasn't sure if he wanted her proximity explained or not.

A sigh left her lips at that question as she glanced at him. "Two glasses of wine is all I had, Draco. I'm not drunk. Takes quite a bit more to make me drunk," she explained and seemed almost irritated he would ask. Running one hand back through her hair, she met his gaze. "It's complicated."

She'd been jealous and wanted to feel closer to him. His kisses made her crave that contact again. That first week of their honeymoon had been amazing and while they hadn't been intimate since...a part of her had missed him.

Two. He breathed with relief as she shook out her curls. After the evening, he'd been bracing himself for what was to come. Instead, he cupped her cheek and leaned forward, brushing his lips to hers as the carriage slowly made its ascent. Needed to make sure, he let his mind caress hers. Complicated. He understood it and yet he hated it. Did it have to be complicated? For now he just wanted to kiss her, not to think about meanings and everything it implied.

That light brush of his fingers along her cheek as he leaned forward, she leaned into him and kissed him back. Her fingers brushed over his hair and down along the back of his neck. He was such a good kisser. Appreciate you wanting to make sure I'm not drunk, she breathed, almost sounding like she was sighing in contentment as she kissed him. Everything between them was complicated. Their physical chemistry wasn't. And after seeing Astoria trying to offer herself to her husband and seeing Viktor left her even more conflicted and confused. But this made sense. At least a little.

I like my witch consenting, he reminded. He hadn’t bothered with plural or some general statement. He only had one witch. Her. Even if he liked her fight and control, he had never gone further than she would give. The way she had defended his honor and tried to be reassuring had been alluring in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

I'm consenting. She stated simply as her lips parted, and she nipped at his bottom lip gently. Escapism had found a new form in her husband even when the complicated nature of their relationship was what she was often escaping. They wouldn't see eye to eye on a lot, but she respected him more than she had before.

He kissed her more firmly, prying her lips to accommodate his tongue. She was consenting, and he wanted nothing more than to taste as much of her as he could. Somehow, he doubted it would continue at the manor, so he’d accept what she gave.

Her breath hitched as she let her tongue meet his, parting her lips further and pressing closer to him. Her fingers brushed along the back of his neck gently, nails lightly dragging over the skin there. There was something almost reassuring and grounding in the kisses.

Draco didn’t want to bother with breathing if it meant getting more of her delicious lips. A mix of her and wine on her tongue as he was reminded of how she felt. He explored her the way he wanted to explore other parts of her, reminding them both of the weeks they’d spent tangled.

It was easier not to think when they kissed. When he devoured her mouth as he did. As if he were devouring between her legs. She shivered, and her heartbeat skipped again, unable to help it. Stopping would be difficult, and she wasn't sure if she would even want to.

He caught a glimpse of her thoughts and curled his tongue inside her mouth to remind her of just how he teased between her thighs, flicking the sensitive dome of her palate as he would have her clit. It was short-lived, just a light tease before pulling away to catch his breath. “We should apparate home before I have half a mind to take you right here,” he motioned the coach. He didn’t want to consider how long they’d been still at the carriage house.

Her breath hitched, and she pressed closer to him, that reminder having desire heat through her, warming between her legs. When he pulled away, she almost leaned closer to follow his lips. It took a moment to realize that the carriage had been still. She had been far too wrapped up in him. Her cheeks flushed lightly and she gave a nod of her head. "We should. Wouldn't want to do anything inappropriate," she drawled, though her voice was just a little breathy, betraying her building desire.

He crushed another kiss to her lips, stealing a last kiss of her tongue. Inappropriate was the mildest form of stating what he wanted to do with his wife. Meeting her gaze, he held it before eying her lips. When he leaned in, it was to bite her plump lower lip. “I would,” he nearly purred, opening the door for the cooler night breeze to help thaw his thoughts. It barely kept him steady as he stepped out and offered her a hand.

That kiss had her shiver, her lips parting for him easily again as she leaned in against him. The bite had her breath hitch, and she almost whined, her gaze on his lips rather than his eyes for just a moment. But as he opened the door and stepped out of the carriage, she stepped out after him, taking his arm again. "Would you? Getting interrupted wouldn't be pleasant," she easily countered.

“For whoever interrupted? Definitely,” he assured. Here, the Manor, a dark corner of the school, it didn’t matter so long as he got to have his way. Why the playful and sultry side of his wife surfaced wasn’t something he planned to question. Instead, he offered her his arm and took them home. Their return to the foyer was silent, and its lack of a greeting party had his lips on her again, claiming her in the middle of his ancestral home.

She snorted slightly at that but didn't argue with him. Because she was certain, he would be rather vexed with anyone that might see them. Taking his arm, she stepped in closer and was glad that he apparated them to the manor rather than flying. Kissing him back as soon as his lips were on hers, she pressed flush to him, her arms looping around his neck. No one being there to greet them was nice. It meant that they wouldn't have to snap at someone stopping them. If he were summoned now, she'd be more than frustrated.

There was nothing kind about the way he commanded her lips. The culmination of over a week of denial and a need to shed any doubts she might have that he genuinely desired her. If he could kiss away what she had felt when Astoria had propositioned, he would certainly try. From her cheeks, he palmed his way down her neck, cupping her chest before smoothing down to her hips. Strong hips, he seized to nudge her back towards the large black table in the middle of the foyer. The staff had placed a floral arrangement that he sent crashing to the floor to place his wife atop its surface. They wouldn't make it to the wing, let alone the bedroom, and he honestly didn't care. This was his home. His men could walk away.

The intensity of the kiss had her whimper into the kiss, her hand tangling into his hair easily. She had missed this. Missed how he felt against her and that desire that burned through her as if it were a living thing. His hands traveling over her tight dress had her breath hitch, and she easily moved back with him. She bumped the table before he pushed her back onto it, gasping into the kiss. Draco... It was almost a whine in his head as he set her back on the table, not caring about the flowers as she heard the glass shatter.

When he heard his name through the bond, he'd half expected her to ask him to stop. Thankfully, it had been more a plea than a refusal because he didn't know if he could stop. Not when he trailed kisses down her neck and let his hands roam her dress as if trying to figure out the best way to move forward. Rake it up? Take it off? He peppered her collarbone in kisses, prying the front of her dress to force a breast out and pop a nipple into his mouth. She was decadent on his tongue.

As his mouth trailed down her neck, she trembled and tilted her head for him to keep peppering kisses over her skin. His mouth was so warm, and it made goosebumps spread over her arms, heat pooling between her legs. As the dress was loosened and pried down, she writhed on the table as he took her breast into his mouth. She arched into him, her hand clutching at his hair as her head fell back.

After lavishing that first breast, he ushered the other one out, giving it as much love as the first. Sucking and nipping until both sat perky before him. He wanted to touch her, to make her beg for him to take her there wanton and naked. He feared she would press for a change of scenery if he began removing her dress. A wicked smile perked his lips as he groped her chest and felt his way down. The hunger in his gaze was clear as he peered down into her chocolate hues. His tongue slicked over his lips as he found the edges of her dress and began inching them forward until they were at her knees.

Normally, she would have pushed him off and tried to get to one of their beds, but she moaned as he switched to the next breast. Her face flushed with a mix of desire and a bit of embarrassment. That wicked smile on his face had her look down at him, her breathing a little uneven. "What are you doing?" She murmured, her voice breathy, but she didn't try to stop him from edging up the skirts of her dress. Here. He was planning on taking her right here. It had her bite down on her bottom lip. Insatiable man... Did her not stopping him make her just as insatiable?

Her question had him slick his lip. "I'm about to eat you alive..." he taunted. Wasn't that what she called the look he gave her? Like he could devour her whole. Only for you, he reminded, falling to a knee so he was at eye level with her knees. Reaching beneath the fabric, he slowly brought her undergarments down. Board meetings would be so much better if they skipped them. A passing thought as he spread her thighs to press a kiss to her, his tongue tracing her folds.

Those words had her ache with need. It wasn't want. It was need. She needed to feel him, needed to touch him. She let him draw her knickers down without complaint, watching him on his knee before her. The man was proud. She knew he wouldn't just drop to his knees for anyone. I could potentially be convinced... Her mind brushed his, picking up on that brief thought that he had, though as he kissed her, she moaned, her hand burying into his hair as she tried to stay perfectly still for him.

Her mind against his had him rewarding her with a swirl and a suck to her clit. First, he'd unravel her. Then he'd have her on display for him. The table would be the perfect height to take her on. Magic could always compensate. You would look stunning writhing naked here, calling my name... his mind supplied as he slid two fingers into her.

As soon as he sucked, her hips bucked into his mouth and she couldn't hold back a moan of his name, knowing he wanted to hear it, his name on her lips. And she couldn't blame him. Not when she liked hearing her name on his lips. As two fingers pressed inside of her, she whimpered and bit down on her bottom lip as her hand tightened in his hair.

"Well, this is awkward," Pike told Blaise from the threshold. A hand through his short blond hair, as he tried to figure out if he should turn back or try to state his business.

Draco was oblivious, especially when she moaned his name that way, her skirts shielding him from sound, or perhaps that had more to do with the blood rushing to his cock as he pleasured his wife.

Blaise grimaced and turned, so his back was to the doorway. The last thing he wanted to do was get accused of looking at Malfoy's wife. But how did they state their business?

Hermione gasped, writhing before she took in a deep breath, opening her eyes to look at Draco, but she saw the other two from the corner of her eyes and tensed. She pulled the dress back up over her breasts with a grimace. "Draco...." she couldn't keep his name from sounding like a whine. Your men...are in the doorway.

He would never tire of his name on her lips and then her thoughts were like an ice shower. As he felt her adjust, he sighed against her thigh, giving her a last lick before pulling away. With a hand, he smoothed her off his chin. I'll make it up to you, he promised down the bond before turning to face the pair in the doorway.

That sigh against her thigh had her shiver, as did that last lick over her folds. She trembled and could feel that blush filling her cheeks and up to her ears as she sat up, looking at her husband. ...I hope so. She murmured into his head as she got off of the table.

"It best be important," he marched forward, wand at the ready. Obviously, they'd needed something, or they would have done the right thing and left.

Blaise slowly looked over his shoulder, carefully keeping his gaze on Draco rather than on Hermione behind him. "Prisoner cracked. Information about the leak and that meeting," he said vaguely as he met his best mate's gaze. "Apologies for interrupting. But it is time-sensitive."

Draco had been a second away from sending both men to their knees but sighed. "Is the prisoner still...conscious?" he demanded. He wanted to hear this for himself, see the memories for himself. If he looked back at his wife now, he'd probably invite her just so he could have her sooner. He couldn't do that, not when she was finally letting him in, even if that was limited to sex.

Pike had been keeping his gaze on the ground, letting Blaise speak up. He had a feeling things would go smoother from the other than himself. Even if they'd all been friends once upon a time. "He's awake; we propped him up with a couple of potions. Pucey is with him now, making sure he's ready for you."

Hermione took the stairs, knowing she couldn't go with him. There were things they weren't privy to. Though if it was time-sensitive, perhaps he'd be back before too long. Pity. I'll just go to your shower and be in the study for a few hours. It was a clear tease that if he managed it quickly enough, perhaps he'd still get her tonight.

Blaise nodded his head. "Conscious, prepared, and guarded. Pike got me out of bed as well," he drawled and glanced at Pike and back at Draco, knowing he'd understand that he'd also been roused from doing something he would rather do.

You can always wait in my bed; keep it warm for me, he shot back as he disappeared into the shadows of his home, Blaise and Pike at either side of him. "We can't all have productive nights like Pike, apparently," Draco grumbled. At least Pike had given a result. Something that could be used. He and Blaise had merely been indulging.