The Art of War

“Take care lest perchance you fall into the mistake of thinking to gain more by being merciful than by being just; for to pardon him too easily that has transgressed is to wrong him that transgresses not."
Baldassare Castiglione, The Book of the Courtier

Given the circumstances, Draco prepared his wife as best as he could this time. The school’s board had finally decided to call a vote. Despite her being a shoo-in, he knew there were more orders of business. After the strong claims before the start of the year, he could only imagine what new decrees would follow. While bringing Mrs Malfoy should have been no issue, her blood status and current events would likely pose as another test he secretly feared. She might have played well at the club and in his home, but then reality sunk, and this statement would be made public. It would reflect on him in ways he hadn’t dealt with before.

It hadn’t helped that she knew Nott’s lover and refused to unmask them, which only made him worry about being so far from home. Leaving his best friend to fend for himself. If anything, the Dark Lord's lieutenant felt extra prickly.

The last time she had gone to Hogwarts was for a quick social meeting. Now, it was to be voted onto the board. The same board that had voted to leave children wandless on a daily basis. She hated the fact that once students got their wands, they were sent to the school, and none got to take their wands home on holiday. She knew it would keep all the children safe in a way they hadn't been kept safe in their youth. Dumbledore's Army had been a name to make others paranoid, but that was essentially what they had become anyway. Even after he died, they continued to fight a war that none of them should have had to.

Hermione was dressed sharply, wearing a pair of slacks rather than a skirt, a button-down blouse with a vest and a blazer over that. Her hair was pinned back from her face, and she straightened her blazer a little more. They had practiced the smoke thing once or twice, and she had nearly gotten sick trying to do it on her own. More practice was needed, but she was putting in the effort. It helped distract from the fact that her best mate kept sneaking into the damn manor. She understood a bit more as to why he did. The Prophet had reported that a certain Chaser on the Holy Head Harpies no longer sported a wedding ring, so her "secret" marriage was apparently over.

Poor Ginny. Poor Harry. In another life, maybe, but they all had to deal with the hands they were dealt. "Any idea what matters, other than me joining the board, will be voted on this evening?" She asked as she settled a necklace around her neck, ensuring she looked well put together.

“We'll likely be given results from the earliest tests to better develop curriculum, likely some ban or another, and whatever bright new transformative idea,” he grumbled bitterly. He hated these meetings with a passion, especially when its members were mostly old and disconnected from reality. “I’d bet my coin purse the resurgence of chains be returned for discipline. Likely Nott Sr.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose at that, and she gave a shake of her head. "Well...absolutely not supporting that idea. Even if it would have given Filch a thrill," she drawled with disdain as she stepped away from the mirror. More of her clothing was in his room, though both referred to it as their room at this point. She didn't want to look too closely at what that meant.

Let’s try to present a united front, he let his mind press. Their bond would help them through this. “This looks nice,” he nudged her to face him. At least her appearance would make some think twice. It would also likely cause some older members to find grievances with her. Part of him welcomed it. “Carriage should be downstairs,” he nudged her chin up and fought every single desire to kiss those soft lips.

You can't seriously tell me you'll want to support Nott Sr. in bringing back that barbaric form of punishment? She glanced over at him but kept her expression composed. There were certain things that she knew would break through that façade, but she could manage. "Thank you." Turning at his nudge, she almost tucked a hand into her pocket. As he nudged her chin up, she met his gaze but then leaned in and brushed a kiss to his lips before heading towards the door. "Then I suppose we shouldn't keep it waiting, should we?"

Absolutely not, he hoped she knew he wasn’t trying to recreate their seventh year. Hogwarts was the means to open their doors to other countries. This year would enable grounds to host tournaments and activities and ease some tensions. The graze of her kiss tingled on his lips as he briskly moved to walk beside her. No, they wouldn’t keep their ride waiting.

At their approach, the large black door opened to display that elegant mixture of velvet and fineries. The appreciative elite of coaches in the late eighteen hundreds would have clamored for its ostentatious display worthy of the most prominent of aristocrats.

Oh, thank Merlin. If he had, she wouldn't have been able to look at him or stomach most of the night. Hopefully, they should be on the same page in most things. Walking at his side was nice; part of her had expected him to want her to walk one step behind him the entire time. But they were as equal as they could be in public, much more so in private aside from their bedroom activities. Though arguably, even there.

Stepping into the coach, she chuckled softly to herself. "I sometimes forget just how...aristocratic you are, darling." Sometimes. As if staying in the manor wasn't a constant reminder. Or the peacocks. Who had been getting along a lot better than she would have expected. When Lucius Malfoy's bird wasn't trying to torment her own.

He made the slightest motion to acknowledge her statement. Where his father was fond of flaunting, Draco merely used what was at his disposal. Imagery and pageantry came with the territory, but they certainly didn’t dictate his entire being.

“Do you?” He asked. “And are you not?” He studied her as he settled in beside her. His mother would have made him or his father go first, refusing to scoot over a bench. It was too trivial to point out, so he smirked. “I suppose only by circumstance,” he bit back harsher words. No, she didn’t deserve his ire.

"By marriage," she said with a small bit of a grin, though his words had her raise a brow. Something is bothering you. She drawled quietly to his mind, her hand lightly brushing his before she glanced out the window of the carriage.

I rather duels than these meetings, he supplied. They were too unpredictable. And as little as I can anticipate what’s to come, I also can’t anticipate which outlandish proposition will make you dig your heels again. He wouldn’t lie to her. She might not like it, but this was the hand they were dealt.

I didn't outwardly throw a tantrum when I learned that the children wouldn't get to keep their wands, Draco. I kept my displeasure, at least how deeply I disapproved of it, between us. We'll manage. You did promise that I'd get to have a chance to guide things when you proposed all of this, didn't you? All she could do was attempt to be agreeable. Attempt not to lose it. It was the best she could offer.

And will you keep your cool against the likes of the board? I can handle your ire. I just hope it remains ours behind closed doors. She could ice him out. She’d done it enough. Whatever came of this, he wouldn't be surprised if he found her bringing distance between them again. For someone with the warmth of anger, she could be a right ice queen when she willed it. Change is slow, and we must bide our time.

I'll certainly try to. Them suggesting physical punishments isn't all that surprising. They start proposing unforgivables and things, and I might just have to show them why that would be a terrible idea. Her jaw tensed slightly before she relaxed her expression. They were all children. All of them had been hurt and tormented during seventh year. He didn't want their seventh year recreated, so she hoped they'd be fine.

For the rest of the ride, he offered her insights on the various members. Tidbits of their past, any information that could be useful to coerce a certain response, and then there was the headmistress and her deputy headmaster, whom he knew too little of despite attempts to discreetly uncover information.

Taking in all of the information, she listened attentively, not risking going in without being prepared. It seemed like all of them would vote her in rather favorably, but she didn't know if that was a test in itself. To see what she felt or thought about all of these things. Could any of them be plants from the insurgency? She didn't know. It had anxiety knotting her stomach again.

When the carriage finally came to a halt in the courtyard before the castle's front doors, Draco disembarked first to offer her a hand.

They’d barely made it through the doors that the deputy headmaster stood in wait. “Good evening, Mr and Mrs Malfoy,” he greeted them. “As we mentioned in our last owl, tonight’s session will be held in the study hall as the students have taken up the rehearsal room for their performance. I hear we’ll be given a sample before break.” His chatter filled the silence as he ushered them through the halls to the designated room in question.

Stepping out of the carriage, arm and arm with her husband, she gave a slight nod without saying anything more. Choir had been taken back up? That was somewhat normal. Compared to everything else, she supposed. But it made her a little more leery about what she should expect in the study hall room to begin with.

The tables had been placed like a horseshoe, allowing everyone to be in view. In its middle, chairs were arranged for parents and concerned society members who had deigned to come. Most were empty save a few, half occupied by a journalist from the Prophet alongside their photographer.

Draco directed his wife to the empty seat beside his.

Taking the seat next to her husband at his direction, she offered him a small smile before her gaze started to sweep the room, only for the doors to open. She was grateful they didn't have their backs to the door. Far too much fighting had left her cautious about such a thing.

“One more member and we’ll begin,” the Headmistress said as the doors parted for McLaggen.

“My father sends his sincerest apologies, headmistress. I’ll be sitting in for him tonight.”

Surprise showed on Hermione's expression for a moment, but she smiled a little bit more. Another lion. "Good evening, Cormac."

Even if he was the most infuriating person she had ever met back in school, it was nice to see another familiar face that wasn't just the Slytherins she'd been around for...months. It had truly been months. Strange.

Draco merely silently stared at the wizard, seeming to size him up before discarding any attempts at formality. He didn’t care for the Gryffindor graduate and had no time to waste.

Cormac, however, decided to give the brunette his attention instead. “Hermione,” he grinned devilishly as if testing to see if her husband would rise to the taunt.

His devilish grin had her raise a brow at him curiously. What in the world was the daft fool getting at now?

“Welcome to our first session since the term has begun. We have quite a bit to cover and limited time. We’ll review five votes tonight, each followed by a discussion prior to voting. Half the votes plus one lead to a resolution. Our first order of business is the request to have Mrs Hermione Malfoy added to the board.” The Headmistress cut into the chatter.

A boisterous exchange ensued, many claiming her presence would merely grant her husband two votes. Eventually, all parties were heard, and the headmistress called them back to attention.

Regardless, she paid attention to the banter around her. If they thought she would agree with Draco on everything, they clearly didn't know what kind of witch she was. Or they thought, as she was sure many still did, that she was under the Imperious curse. Morons, the lot of them.

“All those in favor say ay,” she had called.

Though there was a mostly unanimous ay, a couple, including McLaggen had abstained on the matter.

When she was voted in, she noticed the few that abstained on the matter. She lifted a brow at Cormac before giving a nod of her head. "Thank you," she said, leaning back in her chair. She'd remember those who had abstained. They might be bigger issues later.

“The next order of business comes with amendments proposed to the curriculum by our staff based on initial testing. Our educational team feels confident in our current youth. As you all know, schooling has been interrupted for some time as we’ve rebuilt. In-home curriculum was well received in many instances…”

Draco accepted the parchments sent his way, looking over the various components. “Field practice is still far too vague,” he noted. “And you have a handful of stragglers with the curriculum. Sounds like a different venture might be needed to bridge your numbers.”

Taking the parchment and passing it along, she glanced over the information and frowned a little bit to herself. "What are you wanting to be the overall goal of this particular course? History of Magic is self-explanatory, Flight the same, Transfiguration, Charms, Defense, and Potions are all meant to give basic, intermediate, and then mastery of the subjects depending on how a student wishes to progress. So what is the goal you're wanting with field practice?"

If they were taking away Muggle Studies, the class better have a very well-thought-out goal. Because everything on the parchment was vague about the description of the class as well as the numbers, other than the stragglers in the initial study.

The Headmistress offered a small smile before turning towards her deputy. “The idea is to bring real-world experience to the classroom. We’re still negotiating with the ministry for properly cleared personnel to come and offer hands-on experience in various areas. Think healers one month, aurors the next, a few curse breakers…”

“There’s shadowing in seventh year in the final quarter,” Draco reminded. “Anyone beneath an OWL wouldn’t benefit from this unless you have an ulterior motive…”

Considering that for a moment, Hermione drummed her fingers against the tabletop in front of her, mulling that over. "Rather than having any professionals coming in before seventh year, perhaps have it be a sort of study in what professions are available in the wizarding world. Things have been changing. There are Muggle universities adding entire wings for magical study. It might be beneficial to educate them about what jobs they could go into from a textbook standpoint. Then, in seventh year, do what you propose with having those kinds of professions come in so students can know who they want to shadow," she proposed as a possible idea. That way, they could learn about the professions' existence without getting trained in said profession before they were ready. Before they could be turned into child soldiers.

“Third years have to decide their pathways. There should at least be some sort of preparation for second years planning their schedules,” an older witch exclaimed.

The sentiment was mirrored with murmured enthusiasm.

“A few professionals coming to speak of their careers will do,” Draco reminded pointedly.

"Sort of like a career showcase rather than an education on how to do the job. More learning about what that profession will do, what classes would be required for O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, and what sort of testing might go into that profession. It'll provide insight and help them figure out not just what pathways to decide third year, but perhaps which topics to give more dedicated attention to early."

That way, it would keep them busy and working towards a goal rather than focusing on the turmoil outside. At least Draco seemed alright with her redirection that did take into account what he was saying and the goal of the course.

“All in favor of the program as is, say ay,” the Headmistress had called once arguments had been heard on all sides. Only two voices spoke up, and the curriculum was tabled pending review.

Regretting your decision yet? he tested, ever the front of cool composure as he studied the room with disdain.

“And now, for the sixth hundredth and thirty-second time, there’s been a petition to return chains as means of punishment as seen fit by the caretaker,” she sighed. “All in favor, say aye.”

Hermione gave her ay to that change in curriculum, though the lack of agreement out loud stung just a touch, but it didn't show on her face. Pending review was not a no. But Field study the way they wanted it was not going to go well either.

Not as of yet. She thought back to him, still seeming rather cool and composed. However, at the comment of chains, she just lifted a brow, even knowing it was coming, and didn't do anything more.

A few people spoke up, but not nearly the numbers needed to pass that amendment back into practice. So at least there was that.

A budget issue was next, barely passing by the skin of its teeth before the Headmistress took the floor again. “Our final order of business is about holidays. As you all know, concern has been raised that muggle-borns lack of wands outside school would cause disadvantages and pose a danger to their families. As such, an amendment is proposed for muggle-borns to be kept at the school over holiday breaks to allow more time and safer conditions.”

Draco had half expected such a thing. He wondered if she would have added all that nonsense around her statement had his wife not been present.

That was one amendment that nearly made her react as she felt cool dread and then rage on behalf of the muggle-born students rolled through her. The term had already started. And they were about to be holding onto people's children for seven years if this passed. "Just holidays during the term or between terms as well?"

The question was asked with all of the calm composure she could manage, but her hands were no longer on the desk in front of her. They had been tucked into the pockets of her slacks to tighten into fists as she kept her composure on her face. Her shoulders straighter and a bit stiffer as she sat.

“Mrs Malfoy has a point,” Astoria spoke from her father’s seat. “Surely, if safety is involved, summer breaks would be included.”

Draco held his tongue. He had half a mind to curse the witch, especially as the table seemed to echo her sentiments. Think about your next statement, darling. She’s clearly goading you.

Hermione saw red in her vision for just a moment, but it didn't show in her eyes, just in how she had to resist not tapping her foot. Her nails dug into the palm of her left hand as she took in slow breaths, not drawing attention to herself.

"If safety is an issue, then we also want to make sure that we aren't angering the muggles with how things are finally starting to equalize under the new regime. It would feed into certain narratives if it seemed as if the school was holding muggle-born children at the school away from their families. We don't want a repeat of all of that fighting or putting the children at risk again," she said as calmly as she could manage, which did have a few people seemingly considering that and getting where she was coming from. Enough to divide the vote a bit.

I should have hexed her when I had the chance. Her voice was a near growl along their bond, but outwardly, she seemed cool and serene. ....Tell me that you don't agree with this sentiment....

They are in danger outside of Hogwarts, and we all know everyone here is looking at me in that narrative. He wasn’t going to sugarcoat it for her. Do you want me to counter it, knowing they’ll double down on their resolve?

Draco listened as most seemed in favor of the motion. Slowly, gazes turned expectantly on him. Gaging where the Malfoy head of house fell on the matter.

“Might as well keep half-bloods, too,” he met a couple of gazes. “Never know when they’ll be next,” he supplied cooly without affirming either side.

They're vulnerable here too, and they're suggesting keeping them from their families...of course, they'd double down if you said anything like that... She remembered what he told her, what had made her so upset while on their honeymoon. Every muggle-born she thought she had saved and gotten out of the Kingdom. The man she was sitting next to had killed them.

But there had to be something. The anguish of her never getting to see her family again burned through her before she could cut off that connection she had with her husband. He didn't need to feel that or know what she was thinking about. Not as her nails nearly cut into the palms of her hands. At least his statement had the discussion going around and around again. Allowing her time to try and come up with something.

A few ruffled feathers had resulted in more banter. It was hard to cut through any of it when he’d felt that emptiness from her. Even if he’d refused to coerce it from her, he knew the weight she bore. The secrets they’d sacrificed to the pyramids about her parents. Had she not just gone through exactly what they proposed? And yet every last one before him would speak ill of him in private and praise him in public.

“Seven years is a very long time to be cut away from one’s family,” he reminded in the melee, still not taking a side.

Her heart hammered in her chest, and it was hard to think through the anger for these children. How many muggle-borns were in the school? How many parents thought they'd be getting their children back for Christmas that wouldn't be? Not every Muggle family would accept their magical children; others had proven that, but for every one of those, there were more like Harry's Grandparents or her own parents that had no problem having a magical child.

"Even with owl communication, that hardly makes up for being able to be around their families. You'll have students thinking of the school as a prison and still not feeling like they belong to our world. I doubt any of you would want to part with your children for seven years with only owl communications."

Even a few of the pureblood families gave pause there. She wouldn't sway them completely. She knew that. But all she needed was to cast doubt in enough of their minds. If Astoria opened her mouth again, she knew her nails would tear open her palms.

“And what would you suggest?” Cormac seemed genuinely curious, if not for all the wrong reasons. “I remember your friend having those horrendous muggles as guardians. Everyone’s heard the barbaric treatment of Harry Potter by his own kin. In this climate, we risk obscurials rising.”

“Resentment comes in all kinds of homes, or perhaps many of you forget your own families.” Draco seemed to be amusing himself at the discontent rising. As if he reveled in the results of his own doing.

“You’ve hardly told us what you think about this,” Astoria met his stare and held it. “Or are you afraid to upset the missus?”

Draco laughed at that. A cold, somber sound that had gazes set on him. “I’d upset quite a few of you with honesty, but that’s not the matter at hand, is it?”

“She makes a point, Mr Malfoy. You’ve yet to give an inclination to your thoughts on the matter.”

Looking over at Cormac, part of her wanted to throttle him next, but she was glad that Draco pointed out the resentment and horrors that came from the pureblood families as well. At least they weren't left out of this.

"The Statute of Secrecy is a thing of the past. If the Board is insistent on keeping muggle-born witches and wizards here year-round, then perhaps they would also like to entertain muggle families on the grounds under the school's protection at least twice a year," she said simply. Since Astoria seemed determined to keep the children here, fine, let the Muggle families also be the school's responsibility.

It caused even more uproar. People didn't want that either, but some could see her point. Nepotism and favoritism to the purebloods would be shown clearly, and they were apparently moving away from that if the muggle-borns couldn't see their families.

If you say nothing, they'll make it even worse. If you say something, they'll double down. It's a lose-lose situation. But at least she could see that he had tried staying out of it.

Just a regular Tuesday, his mind sighed. “If you feel their safety is warranted, then you’ll have to allow visitation…unless you either don’t trust your new defenses or are suggesting we give our youth fewer freedoms than our prisoners. I imagine that would make sense. Wouldn’t want to keep their hopes up for any other future…” he drawled. “Hogwarts Azkaban pipeline has a ring to it.”

The next uproar had members on their feet in the heated exchange that ensued. Demands for amendments and contingencies being called for without anything tangible.

Any other ideas, Darling?

Oh joy. The sarcasm was palpable, but she watched as the uproar got even more heated. Some of the others getting louder and trying to speak over each other. Taking in a slow breath, she let it out. Two.

She didn't want to voice them just yet. Didn't want to risk making everything worse. Some of them seemed to oppose what she said simply because of who she was. Some were too set in the ways that they wanted that they saw no other way.

Christmas and summer visitation with vetted Pureblood families. They want the muggle-borns safe and integrated into our world? I spent summers with the Weaslesys often. Outside of the actual holiday itself, I also spent holidays with them. Not the best example with this lot or with how the Weasleys feel about me now, but it allowed my parents to know I was being looked after and would allow for the responsibility to be shared. If they're so hell-bent on separating children from their homes.

Whoever came up with this idea really deserved her fist to their face along with her curses.

Draco watched the circus unfold until the headmistress and deputy managed to get the order reestablished. Finally, he leaned over the table and watched every member in turn. “If you’re so adamant in teaching these children, why not allow them to… experience our culture? You’re all bleeding hearts apparently; perhaps if you must go through with it, you also make it so that these underprivileged cases be sponsored by vetted families.” He sneered.

There were several pauses, and she crossed one leg over the other as she glanced at her husband as if she were considering it. But her feigned indecision was what got a few more people talking more calmly. Asking questions that were important: vetted how? Would the Muggle families visit their homes for the holidays to see their children? Would the ministry provide funding to help these underprivileged cases? As if any of the old families needed more money.

"If you're sure your family couldn't handle supporting another student, I'm sure something could be arranged. Such a shame though. I wouldn't dream of that being a problem for any of you," she drawled, her gaze sliding over all of them slowly, assessing them as if she were trying to see which of them would try to claim that issue.

Draco kept contempt on his features as they delved into the workings of such an endeavor. “Sounds like we’re ready for a vote, headmistress,” he added, openly disgusted.

“Motion to keep the muggle-borns in school and work a sponsorship program. Our more prominent families are generous after all,” she looked at the likes of McLaggen and Greengrass. “All in favor say Ay.”

The sound was nearly unanimous, with Draco abstaining from voting. Though he said nothing, his stare was enough to make anyone meeting it feel daft.

It wasn't ideal at all, but the sponsorship would help, and it could be a requirement to allow leave or visitation from the families of the muggle-borns on holidays or in the summer. It still meant they'd have a chance to see them. She also abstained, if only because her idea was the lesser of two evils. Those families were going to be heartbroken when they were told.

If this was the headmistress' idea, she didn't like her. At all. Thank you....it's better than keeping them locked up here...

It was something he wasn’t sure would work in anyone’s favor. At least the Dark Lord wouldn’t be questioning him for this outburst. Nott Sr. would find nothing to complain about to their master, and his wife wasn’t completely holding back.

I don’t know what the ministry is playing at with this, but it certainly reeks of overreach. No, he wouldn’t accept thanks for something that was aimed his way. Perhaps it was time to visit some ministers for a chat.

Eventually, the session concluded, and the board was welcomed to the great hall where tables were set for them, and the frog choir stood, greeting their arrival with song. Had their parents dealt with this sort of attempt to smooth them overusing students?

It's absolutely an overreach. Not surprised. They tried overreaching with Umbridge once. And the woman had suffered for it. If she had to find ways to make this ministry's life miserable, she'd manage. She'd gotten more creative over the years, after all.

Once they were able to leave the boardroom, she got herself something to drink and sipped at it. The frog choir greeting them felt like it was meant to show them everything was fine. Look at how well the students were doing. It was a load of bull, and all she wanted to do was call them on it, but she stayed cool and collected.

Draco kept her close without physically reaching for her. It would be unbecoming, and he couldn’t have that. They’d already garnered some gossip from their night at the club, but without pictures, it was hard to prove. Just as he’d wanted it.

We’ll make them pay for their insolence, his mind promised, never quite shutting her off. Needing the contact. “I need a quick chat with the headmistress,” he said. I won’t stray far, he supplied through their bond. Astoria was far enough not to cause an issue.

That gnarled, twisted piece of her reveled the fact that he would promise her that. She needed it. Needed to know that they wouldn't have a chance to break up more families in the future. If she had to make them bleed, she would—quite a bit, in fact. You always promise me the best things. It was half serious. He tended ti anyway.

"Of course, darling. I'll resist the temptation to wander our Alma mater." It was tempting to actually pick apart what they had changed. If she had some Weasley products, it would have been tempting to drop those off as well. Instead, she sipped at her drink and watched the other members of the board with a shrewd attentiveness.

The moment Draco had found the new head of the school’s side, Cormac saw an opening to accost his fellow lion graduate.

“It’s been a while. I almost thought it a clerical error when I noticed your name being added to the board,” he said in lieu of greeting.

Taking a sip of her drink, she glanced up at him with a raised brow. "Did you? Well, I'm not dead. And I'd be a fool not to want to try and help the school that taught me." Even if she wanted to throw some people off of the astronomy tower or into the lake.

"Surprised to see you here, though. How have you been?" The pleasantries felt strange. And forced.

“I’ve been great,” he smiled, meeting her gaze. “My father has been enjoying retirement. I’ve been slowly settling into my role,” he shrugged. The board, the wizengamot, it was all part of the legacy. “I didn’t think you’d be dead, even Malfoy isn’t so…” he tried to think of the word and abandoned the thought. “Much better for him to parade you,” he amended casually.

"I'm glad you've been enjoying it and that your father has been enjoying retirement." It was all she could offer to that. But she did raise a brow as she met his gaze. "Isn't so what?" Now, she felt like she needed to know what that might have been. But she gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Normally, I'm far too busy to be paraded."

"It doesn't matter," he said casually, sipping his drink. Even he had more common sense than to speak ill of her husband. But then she'd opened that door wide open, and he couldn't help but view it as an invitation. "So I've heard," he eyed as if they were teenagers again, seeing her for the first time again. His thumb slid over his lower lip as he considered his next words. "You brought up some interesting points if you ever want to discuss them," he looked over her. "I'm sure I could...give it some weight."

"Does it not?" She asked casually, but there was an undercurrent to her voice that screamed a warning to anyone who heard it to tread carefully. The way he eyed her, though, had a shudder down her spine. Taking a sip of her drink, she considered that as she looked at him. Watching his body language. Draco would be livid if he saw how Cormac eyed her as if her clothes were see-through. "Did I? I can say you didn't seem too impressed by my earlier points. Which ones did you find so interesting?"

"Do not confuse my voting in line with my father as my own desires," he warned. She wasn't denying him or running away. "Wizarding families have always had access to Hogwarts during ongoing terms. There's no reason the castle couldn't accommodate families, as you suggested. Of course, that would be divulging information that hasn't been cleared..." He trailed.

"If you're truly taking over for your father, perhaps you should vote for what you want out of it." She suggested with a shrug, sipping at her drink and letting her gaze sweep the other board members. When had she lost sight of Astoria? The idea made her blood boil before she glanced back at McLaggen. "And are you suggesting you can get that cleared?"

"And here I thought you understood the game," his smile didn't reach his eyes. His father's vote had to remain to get his prize. They all had their hands bound to some extent. "What's it to you if I could?" he asked, looking her over as if sizing her up.

"When you said retired, I thought he was already quite separated from what you're doing. My mistake." So more like the Greengrass sisters rather than Draco. Fascinating. And frustrating. It meant he wouldn't be nearly as useful as she might have hoped. "That entirely depends on what exactly you're suggesting."

"After years on the wizengamot, this is a slice of power he has yet to relinquish," he chuckled. He had most of the work now, but the rest was still ever contingent on his father's will. There were still so many little boxes to check before he could take on everything his name entitled him to. "You want it cleared, do you not? Or perhaps there's more you desire..."

"Ah, I see. So, a gradual relinquishing of power. Makes sense." Which meant that Cormac was still not technically the head of his family. She'd learned enough about how the inner workings of different families worked at this point. It was that or sink. "I do want it cleared. There is hardly anything else I could want for. My husband is rather attentive to what I could want or need." As a pureblood wizard should. Doting on his witch in the material was something that was expected. She'd slowly gotten accustomed to it. Now that the seamstress had her measurements, he had new dresses made for her and new jewelry to match acquired often. And then the books...

“Of course,” he offered with a small smile. He was certain Malfoy took great care of his witch. Especially considering everything his mother had been claiming from her pearl-clutching readings of various publications. “Well I can be persuaded, I’ve heard you can be quite convincing.” Even he had indulged the page six article on her latest outing as head of the Malfoy household.

Hermione, admittedly, had been paying more attention to front-page news rather than anything on any of the gossip pages. She had her fair share of gossip back when she was in school dealing with one Rita Skeeter. Raising a brow, she took a sip of her drink. "And whatever could you mean by that, Cormac?" Perhaps the familiarity would bite her in the ass, but they had been friendly ish in school. Even after she ditched him at Slughorn's party. Though that could have been his attempts to try and get her back, she supposed.

“I think you know,” he brushed her elbow to draw her closer. Meeting her gaze. She’d used his name. She hadn’t kept that distance between them. Leaning in so only she’d hear it. “Or do you only take your husband’s men to bed at the clubs?”

As he drew her in, she frowned, meeting his gaze with slightly narrowed eyes. Apparently being so forward as to use his name, as if they were still school friends, was not what she should have done. How lovely. "Is that the rumor that's going around now? Delightful. Good to know everyone's still as daft as I remember them being."

“Let’s not pretend you’re in a functional marriage,” he reminded, scoffing. Before he could add more, he felt the pressure on his shoulder yanking him around.

“And what do we have here?” Draco purred, pleased to find an outlet for his growing aggravation.

That scoff had her blood boil. Her marriage might not be what she would have wanted for herself, but it was more functional than it wasn't. Most of the time. But she glanced up at her husband and then looked back at the Gryffindor graduate, a smile that held more cruelty than kindness curling her lips.

"McLaggen was just sharing the latest rumor circulating about us, darling. Go ahead, McLaggen. I'm sure my husband will be so very amused by it." She drawled, finishing her drink and putting the empty glass on a nearby table as she watched the two men.

“Yes, McLaggen, do share what you felt appropriate to share with my wife,” he demanded in a menacing undertone.

Cormac swallowed his bravado faltering. “Merely just a rumor,” he tried to brush it off, not wanting to upset the Dark Lord’s lieutenant.

“Was it as unwelcome as your hand on my wife?”

“D-Draco…” Cormac seemed to try to appeal.

It was too late. The blond already had his wand drawn. “I don’t appreciate others touching what’s mine, McLaggen.”

“Unless she’s in a whore house, right?”

Draco didn’t wait. His wand slashed, and the man before him was on his knees, clutching his right wrist where his hand was severed.

“Honestly,” Draco quipped. “In front of children.” He shook his head like he hadn’t just caused a traumatic scene that had the first row of the choir screeching at the puddle of blood forming around the former Gryffindor. Their conductor quickly ushered them through the door they’d come from before more could witness the gruesome scene.

Hermione's arms had crossed loosely over her chest, and she wasn't about to save the man that had thought it appropriate to imply she was a whore.

You truly did mean you'd harm any man that dared to touch me. Before, it might have sounded horrified. Now? It merely sounded like an observation as she watched the man fall to his knees and clutch at his right wrist.

Glancing over her shoulder at the children that were rushed out, she was glad that it didn't seem like any first years had witnessed the scene. Those who had had likely seen or heard worse in the last several years. This wouldn't be nearly the worst thing.

"Honestly. I'm a lady, McLaggen. Believing that dribble," she taunted, tsking softly as she stepped around the growing puddle to take her place at her husband's side.

Apparently, the rumor is you share me with your men. She shared with her husband, managing not to show her displeasure at that particular rumor spreading around.

Sounds like I have my week cut out for me, his mind was curt, though his anger had had an outlet, it was tame compared to what he could do.

Turning his gaze on the mass that was Cormac, he knew the anger the man wielded dangerously. For someone without a wand hand, that was.

“I’d be careful not to lose my tongue too,” Draco warned the wizard.

“Mister Malfoy!” The Headmistress was on his heels, aggravation clear on her features. She seemed to want to chide him, to scold him and stopped as if thinking better about it. Opting for a few muttered spells to stop the bleeding instead.

Sounds like you might. Where that rumor got started might be a good place for us to start. She answered calmly, her hand brushing his briefly before the touch was gone. Public displays didn't seem like something appropriate, which was fine.

Cormac seemed to seethe up at both of them, even with the color drained from his face from the injury. She gave him a rather withering look before she glanced up at her husband. "Anything else we need to do before we leave, darling?"

She'd had enough of the castle after that meeting and after McLaggen's insinuations.

Club signs a non-disclosure I created, so unless you consider Theo’s train wreck a leak, the prophet content writer will be a much more suitable starting point. Conveniently, it isn’t far from the Ministry, he pushed through the bond. That idiot who fancied themself a reporter would never write again. That was for certain.

“Nothing that can be achieved here,” he turned to look at his wife, offering her an arm. “You know Crookshanks might like this,” he summoned Cormac’s hand. “Little animation spell,” he mused, letting it hang beside him in the air. There was no one at the school that would dare confront him, and he knew it.

I don't think Theo's train wreck is a leak. She knew for a fact he wasn't a leak, but she was not about to say that. Not when things were already a little shaky for them with dealing with the article in the first place. Trying not to snort at that offer, she took his arm and considered it.

Eyeing the hand in question, she gave a slight shrug. "He might. It's worth a shot. He's so picky with his toys," she drawled, making it sound like it was her cat's taste in toys in question and not the fact that Draco was offering to animate their former classmate's hand. "If he doesn't take to it, I'm sure the peacocks would like further guarding practice with it."

I’m sure the Black grimoire has a ghost limb curse, he thought with dark amusement. He couldn’t leave it behind. He wouldn’t risk it getting reattached. Gently, he beckoned his wife around the pool of blood, ignoring shock and terror as they made light banter.

I'd be shocked if it didn't with everything in that grimoire. She admitted with a small bit of amusement herself. There was so much in the damn thing.

Walking with him around the blood, she was careful not to let her shoes end up in the blood. Looking at the reporter stopping them for a quote, she almost sneered. She tightened her arm slightly on Draco's, her fingers lightly stroking at his arm.

Draco paused before the reporter.

“I do, actually.” His stare was cold on the young man, eager to jot a quote. “No one touches my wife but me. And I’m not afraid of putting an end to ministry overreach.” Let them know he was coming. It wouldn’t change the outcome.

"Might want to fact-check before you print," she added, looking the reporter up and down like she was considering doing something similar to him before she and Draco simply walked past him and back down towards their carriage.

I expect there'll be even more headlines regarding us due to this, darling.

I wouldn’t be surprised if we have a visitor come to apologize after that, he responded. Now that he’d made a statement. That blood had been spilled and lines drawn, he could only envision the circus to come.

That did make sense. Someone would come to beg forgiveness rather than have Draco find out who was the one who had published it and track them down himself. And their supposed source. It was certainly something.

He didn’t say a word until they were tucked in their carriage. The abraxans taking them up with powerful strides of wings.

“Hopefully, you now know better than to allow some idiot to touch you,” he said, addressing the earlier question of hers he’d ignored. And he’d held back to protect the children. Idiot headmistress to have a lot of them flaunted in his presence.

Once they were in the carriage, she lifted a brow at him. "Oh yes, because I held out my arm for him to grab rather than thinking he was telling me something in a hushed tone. How silly of me to assume he wanted to tell me something worthwhile rather than try to get me into his bed. Or against a wall," she muttered, but as she talked about him having her in any way, she sounded utterly disgusted by the mere prospect.

Draco’s stare at her as she sassed him was stern. He had half a mind to bend her over his knee right then for having to bring a hand in his carriage.

“Perhaps I’ve lulled you into a false sense of security that you would think anyone close enough to get their hands on you would be a good idea.” He didn’t raise his tone. There was no need.

The stern look had her narrow her eyes at him, looking at him with just as stern a look. "I thought I knew McLaggen well enough that he wouldn't attempt anything nearly that idiotic. Clearly, I was wrong. But have I let any of your men get that close to me? Anyone that I don't know or anyone I suspect of being a danger getting that close to me?"

He kept close, his hand finding her lap, tracing a line of stitches along the inside. “Or perhaps you enjoy knowing how far I’ll go,” he remembered how she’d moaned for him as he’d told her all the depraved things he’d do in her name.

She had been careful. She didn't want his men to touch her. She hadn't wanted even attendants at the bookstore to get close to touching her. Not with how she was sure her husband would react. Though as his hand traced the line of stitching along her inner thigh, her breath hitched slightly. "Am I that kind of witch?" It wasn't a no and wasn't a yes. Was that why she had allowed it? She liked to think she wouldn't.

“You tell me,” he breathed. He’d likely created an empty seat on the wizengamot with McLaggen losing his wand hand. He might as well be a squib. Fitting in his opinion.

“My men know better than to so much as linger their gaze on you,” he reminded. After her first night in the manor, he made things clear. Making her the lady of the house had only cemented it. “Which is more than I can say for your old flames.” Save one, but he wasn’t about to praise Viktor Krum for having common sense.

Looking over at him, she narrowed her eyes slightly. "...Just because some part of me does like how ruthless you can be, does not mean I was eagerly setting the wizard up to be maimed." It was said firmly as she felt that twist in her stomach. If she had gone to speak with some of the others on the board, she'd have been fine.

"So possessive. It's not like I could do anything with any of them even if I wanted to. And I don't if that needs to be explicitly said." Because Draco was better than all of them in bed, and she had no frame of reference for McLaggen. Nor did she want it.

His hand didn’t leave her inner thigh as she made her firm statement. Squeezing midway as he inched closer. “Very possessive,” he echoed. It didn’t matter that neither of them could do anything. “Though I am glad to know you wouldn’t want to stray,” he leaned in to nip at her jawline.

That squeeze had her breath hitch, her legs falling open a little under his touch as she looked up at him. Him being possessive shouldn't be hot or make desire spark through her like this. Damn it. "Why would I want to? You are very attentive in bed," she crooned, nipping at his neck with a smirk.

“Only in bed?” He returned, nipping towards her ear. At least his ego was well stoked at her statement. She was sated, which was more consistent since she’d begun staying in their bed. They had hours before they’d make it back.

A shiver rolled through her from the nip. She looked over at him with a bit more of a smirk. "No...not just in bed. You're an attentive man in general," she admitted, giving him the credit where credit was due.

Draco let his hand shift until he cupped her, sucking in her ear lobe. He was attentive in general, but he didn’t have to be. Not really, and yet, he enjoyed overwhelming her. Liked the way she squirmed and sounded for him. “I like to think so,” he practically breathed the words.

Hermione was almost disappointed she had opted for slacks as his hand cupped her, a soft gasp leaving her lips. Closing her eyes, she let herself feel as she tried not to lean into him. Why did he have to be so damned tempting? "I think you do a rather good job of being attentive..."

He noted how she closed her eyes and did her best to remain still. “Do I?” He teased, pressing his fingers against her through her clothes. As though her stillness made him question her statement.

She shivered, trying not to squirm as she took a slow, deep breath and nodded. "I thought I made it rather obvious..."

“And yet you’re either resisting or deflecting,” he taunted, working against the fabric of her pants. Dubious consent had never been an issue, but given the circumstances, he had no patience for games.

As he pressed in against that fabric, she squirmed just a little bit, opening her eyes to look over at him as she blushed. "More not wanting to get out of hand in the carriage..." she breathed, but she met his gaze for a moment before leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw and then a few down his neck.

He couldn’t say he’d ever gotten the chance to do as much. With a chuckle, he stopped groping her, opting to sit back. “Might be for the best,” he sighed. Especially if they end up being faced with the press once they get home.

"Especially if people are already going to the manor after that..." she sighed, letting her hair down to run her fingers through it, eyeing the hand that had been acquired. "Today was just full of surprises. "

Draco brushed his dress robes as if they’d gotten out of place. He couldn’t say there’d been all that many surprises. He couldn’t remember a time when Cormac McLaggen hadn’t been trash. He expected nothing from the board, and eventually, one idiot under his command would want to test boundaries.

“Can’t say I was overly surprised by anything,” he shrugged. Society was predictable.

Hermione offered a slight chuckle as she leaned back in her seat, slowly smoothing her hands over her pants. "You forget, I haven't been in or a part of society in years....Astoria didn't surprise me. Twisting my words like that," she seethed a moment, coiling a strand of brown hair around her finger.

“I haven’t forgotten,” his tone wasn’t quite as cutting as it could be. All things considered, his wildling wife was adjusting very well. Noting her grievances towards the youngest Greengrass, he settled his hand beneath her chin to have her face him. “I have no qualms giving an in if you want to eliminate a problem,” he said, meeting her gaze.

Looking up at him as he guided her face up to his, she let out a slow breath. "That is incredibly tempting..."

“Just say the word, and it’s done,” he whispered. It didn’t matter that he was offering her murder. At the end of the day, no matter how well he got along with the Greengrasses, he wasn’t opposed to making sacrifices for his marriage.

"I'll consider it." Her voice was a lot quieter, laced with a bit of uncertainty. Could she simply kill the woman for being problematic? Years ago, she wouldn't have been able to stomach such an idea. Now? It was leaning more towards murder.

Draco leaned in. His breath lingered on her lip. All he wanted was to claim her with a kiss. He wouldn’t push, the offer was there, and that was all he could do. It was unfortunate they’d likely have a long night. His nose brushed against hers before pulling away. “If we land in the nearest city we can apparate back home. Cut off any company. Or we can use the time to regroup.” At least their bond made it so they could remain on the same page.

Hermione brushed her lips to his gently, letting her lips linger on his for just a moment. Their noses brushed, and she wanted to melt into the kiss. If he pulled her into his lap, she wouldn't complain in the least. "We could easily do that. Prepare for what's to come....figure out how they might take that sponsorship amendment." They would likely ask for volunteers...and she would want to volunteer to help the Muggle-borns. It was the least she could do. Not being even more careful was what resulted in them dying when she tried to smuggle them out of the UK before.

“You want to invite muggle-borns into the manor?” He asked her. It didn’t hold the judgment he might have held in his youth. Not for what they were but for how their home would react to such a presence. Or the company that lingered through the halls. “We still have to move your guests from the carriage house,” he reminded carefully. “Though I suppose it could be used to house a student or two once we achieve that…”

"I do. I want them to feel like they aren't alone. They already are being taken away from their families," she murmured, trying not to let too much emotion into it. But that che was there again. She hoped her parents were enjoying the lives she'd fabricated for them. That they were safe and staying out of trouble. They'd know of magic now, but hopefully, they stayed away from it. "We'll move the guests out for my birthday at the latest. And we can house a student or two over the holiday break...It furthers the agenda of unity to the public, shows that you marrying a muggle-born isn't just a one-off exception to the pureblood ideals that many feared would take over."

Draco understood where her need came from. It wasn’t a lack of empathy on his part that held him back. “Our home isn’t the most welcoming, but I suppose it can be arranged. Our involvement would encourage others,” he reminded. Though there would be Weasleys of this world, there’d be less ideal families. He tried not to think of some of the families in his circles that might want to participate. “We both know I married you for more than optics."

Hermione nodded with a soft sigh. "I know it isn't. But I won't turn my back on students that are more like I was," she admitted. And they would need to come up with a way to properly screen the ones that were interested. To keep the wrong people from sponsoring muggle-borns. Meeting his gaze again, she chuckled. "It was for my brilliance...and apparently how I made you feel at that club."

“Was it? You might have to remind me,” he taunted her, looking her over. It was complicated, but they’d weather through this like they had done everything else.

Lifting a brow at him, she moved closer, pressing a kiss to his neck before she lightly dragged her teeth down to the curve where his shoulder met his neck. "Do you really need reminding?"

Those kisses had him close his eyes as he opened himself for her. Where he normally left no room between them, he gave her that liberty. A smile tugged at his lips as she traced him with her teeth at her question. “That my wife is doting?” He asked innocently.

Shifting closer so her leg was pressed to his, her fingers trailed down his side as she pressed another kiss to his neck and then nipped there a little harder. "That your wife makes you insatiable and that's one of the reasons you picked me. Not the main reason, surely, but it's a reason."

“I didn’t think my wife would be willing,” he reminded. He wouldn’t have forced himself on her. Even that was a line he wouldn’t cross but as part of their games? He’d happily make her beg him to stop. “Knowing you’ll take it, though,” he leaned in to grip her elbow as she trailed him with her fingers. He was firm, bruisingly so.

"You're far too attentive a partner for me to be unwilling...." She murmured, even as her mind brushed his. Unless we're playing that game where you're making me beg to get what we both want... Later, she would tease a little about how he had claimed he'd want to make her a complete mess. But not now. She kept her arm still as he gripped her elbow, not pressing her luck.

You beg so beautifully for me, his mind purred, obviously enjoying the idea. Fuck he wanted to do unspeakable things to her. He didn’t let go of her elbow, maintaining that vice grip like a promise as he leaned forward to speak against her ear. “At least now you can show whatever law enforcement the bruises that oaf left on your arm,” he purred. “And when they’re gone, I’ll be so very attentive to you, darling…” he whispered before nipping the side of her ear. Gently, he released her. He wanted her covered in bruises. Needed to claim her even more than he had of late.

You make it worth it to do so, she crooned right back. Feeling that vice like grip, she tried not to squirm, knowing with how hard he was holding her that she was going to bruise. Though that would feed into the narrative of Draco cutting off the man's hand at the very least. She couldn't have her husband in trouble with the law...not that anyone would be able to get him in the first place. "Will you?" She breathed, having to stay steady so her breath didn't hitch.

His stormy gaze was on her, staring at her rich brown eyes. Her irises showing different shades in the carriage lights. “The moment they’re gone, I’ll remind you and anyone along our way who you belong to,” he slicked his lips. It was a pity she hadn’t gone for a dress, but it didn’t matter. He’d enjoy the added obstacles.

Belong to. Part of her hated the way that was phrased, but most of her, and that dark, twisted part that reveled in everything they did, enjoyed it. His. She was his. And he was hers. The idea that Astoria was purposefully messing with her because he had chosen her instead of a Greengrass? Well. It made her want to make it abundantly clear that there was no room for anyone else. "Not likely to be called away, are you?"

“I shouldn’t,” he eyed her hungrily. “I could always take you with me if I am,” he offered. With how everything had gone on at the school, he couldn’t claim for certain He wouldn’t call on him. Taking her with would be different. It wasn’t like the Dark Lord hadn’t seen her aching for him, wanton and begging. The wizard had delved into his mind.

"If you shouldn't...we could possibly risk it," she agreed gently, brushing her hair back from her face with a small smile. "Not sure how good of an idea it is to take me to any summons..." She didn't want the Dark Lord to see her flushed and wanting his lieutenant. She had no idea he had delved into her husband's mind to see any of that.

“He did claim I could use you in any capacity,” he purred, brushing a knuckle along her jawline. “You like being my good witch, don’t you,” he taunted. Fuck he knew it would annoy her as much as it would work her need for praise. It was a dangerous line to toe; even he knew it.

A shiver rolled down her spine, that praise sparking desire through her even as her jaw ticked slightly at that. "Within reason...." She wasn't sure if she could give the proper supplication to the man who ordered so many deaths of people she cared about.

“So long as you’re my good witch, you’ll be just fine,” he promised. Even he knew he couldn’t do much to stop his master. How else can we set up our final plan? he reminded. It would be good to bring her. Even more so if the Dark Lord was unprepared. Get him used to her presence and just how attentive she could be. It wasn’t like she’d need to do more than keep her attention on him, like the good prize wife she was.

"You sure about that?" The question was laced with slowly growing anxiety. If she couldn't sell it enough that she was obedient to a T, she could get them both killed. She wouldn't be able to look at the Dark Lord. She wasn't sure she'd be able to help her glare. Well, I was hoping to have more of a plan before I had to be around Him more often. But it had been surprising he hadn't wanted to check on her 'progress' sooner.

“Am I certain you can be so so good for me?” He asked, studying her features, smoothing her cheeks as if he could pull the worry from them. “That you can look at me like that, and focus on me?” He pet her hair. I rather control the narrative, he reminded. Not react to everything. He wouldn’t expect the added company. It would offer a new lens. What he couldn’t see, she would be able to pick up on. The more he thought about it, the more he enjoyed the idea.

The praise shouldn't have sparked desire as he smoothed his fingers over her cheeks. Her gaze lifted to his, and her brow furrowed a little bit. "You want me to look at you with the amount of focus and attentiveness that I do in our bedroom?" Our. Had she called it that out loud before? She couldn't remember in the least. But controlling a narrative was something she could understand. Hadn't he tried using the same logic to pull her in before? Giving her a chance to control her fate, narrative, and story? I don't exactly want the Dark Lord seeing me the way you have me in our room.

As they spoke, he never stopped touching her. She felt soft and warm. Fearing his own tongue he nodded. Trying to ease her into his next statement. “Hermione,” he spoke her name like a prayer. He knows. I didn’t… he hadn’t exactly brought the images forward. Last time… he still had her very scent on him. It wasn’t like he’d been able to shield the images. “And he opened the opportunity to have you in the field…” he reminded. Use it to our benefit, he reminded. He didn’t exactly enjoy being overseen in that manner himself.

The way he said her name made her focus more on him. Had he ever said her name quite like that? Different when they were in bed. That almost sounded like a plea. Before she could question too much, she froze, her shoulders stiffening. A deep flush filled her cheeks, and she felt rage and embarrassment both spark through her. ...Too unsteady after all that to shield... She tried to be understanding, but there was that sense of shame with it all again and beneath that rage. "I thought He did that due to how useful I'd been with the Finnegan issue..."

His thumbs smoothed over her cheeks. “And he looked for deceit and only found more…loyalty,” he didn’t look away from her features. Every little thing had added up, including how happily she had begged him after being demeaned. It was fucked up. He knew it as well as she did, but everyone had done things they weren’t proud of. I didn’t mean to, but I don’t regret any of our…

Part of her wanted to pull out of his grasp. Her heartbeat was roaring in her ears as she tried to get a handle on herself. An outburst wouldn't help. He hadn't wanted to share that. He couldn't lie to her. Which meant if he thought or said he didn't mean to and that he didn't regret it...he meant it. She had to repeat that to herself a few times as she closed her eyes. "...Loyalty...yes, of course..." her voice was a lot quieter, strained as she tried to get that all under control. I regret we didn't have the time to decompress after...and that He saw that...

Draco drew circles just under her ears with his thumbs, his other fingers working on either side of her spine at the back of her neck. “I know,” he promised. He had taken care of her for a couple of days afterwards. We’ll decompress next time, even if I have to keep you with me, he promised. He wouldn’t leave her alone, not again.

Hermione shivered lightly at how his hands rubbed against her skin, helping her slowly relax. Her shoulders eased, and she let her eyes slowly close. "You know a lot," she drawled, attempting to sound light. It fell a little flat. Bring me with you when you get summoned after we do something like that, and you owe me an entire spa day, Draco. The level of decompression if she had to deal with her fluctuating emotions around the Dark Lord of all people? It would be the least he could do.

“So do you,” he reminded. He wished it could be light, but she knew far too much. All the Dark Lord needed was enough time to see his treachery in her mind, and yet he trusted her. Trusted their vows to protect them. Done, he promised. He would get her an entire spa retreat weekend if it came to it. He smoothed up her neck and cupped her cheeks. “I hope you’re not attached to anything you’re wearing this evening,” he tested to see if she was still willing.

Leaning into his right hand, she watched him with a bit more of a smile at that promise. Good. Her shields would still work well in that situation, or just replaying what they'd been doing in her head repeatedly, which she could do and still pay attention. She'd figure out a tactic that works. "You're not about to tear apart my slacks and blouse, are you? I do rather like these pants. They just fit so well..." She wasn't opposed to doing something, needing to find some form of grounding in the physical.

“I was thinking more about what you have underneath,” he slicked his lips. “Though I can’t promise you’ll have either on long once our guests leave.” She was his. His to flaunt. His to dote on. His to destroy and rebuild.

"Oh, I have more than enough matching sets that I either picked out or that were part of my new wardrobe you got me. I can lose another. You seem to have this bad habit of tearing them to pieces," she said with a bit of amusement.

A smile crept on his lips. “You have a bad habit of wearing things,” he countered smoothly. He wouldn’t have to rip anything if she were readily accessible to him. He wouldn’t apologize for wanting to touch her. “And are you wearing something I provided or something you had commissioned?”

Hermione laughed a little at that. "Well, I'm not about to forgo knickers simply because you're impatient," she countered easily enough. Focusing on this was easier than the revelation that the Dark Lord had already seen some of what they were up to. "Something provided. I didn't think to wear something to try and tease."

Comfort hadn’t been the top priority when selecting her wardrobe. Similar to items she had, sure, to ease her into things. “How unfortunate,” he taunted. “Though I’m sure we can work with what you have…”

"I'm sure we can. I'd be more shocked if we couldn't." She answered easily before nipping at his neck, which only drew him closer.

His lips collided with hers as his thoughts went on to every naughty thing he’d do to her. Kissing him back made her shiver, and she leaned in closer. One hand found its way into his hair, combing through it and pressing him closer. The taste of him on her lips was one she would keep enjoying as long as she could.

It took a moment for him to realize when his carriage landed, and even then, he parted from her lips with reluctance. She blinked a moment before she realized they had stopped. It had a faint blush color her cheeks. How did he have the power to steal all of her attention like that?

Nose brushing hers, he nipped her lower lip before pushing off the bench. As the door opened, Theo marched across the grounds to meet them.

“You’ve got company. Couple aurors arrived an hour ago. Blaise is with them.”

Draco listened but focused on his wife, offering her a hand to help her down from their ride.

Taking Draco's hand, she followed him out of the carriage and smoothed her hair back from her face.

"Thank you, Theo," she said calmly, staying close to her husband.

“We shouldn’t keep our visitors waiting,” he said, summoning the hand. “Theo, dispose of…that.” He wasn’t about to claim it for what it was, and getting rid of an appendage was hardly the worst request he’d made of his friend.

She honestly was glad they weren't going to be keeping it for a cat toy. While the threat was great, she did not want that man's hand crawling around in the manor. It gave her the creeps.

From the foyer, he guided his wife right towards one of the sitting rooms. It was where they entertained guests that came unannounced.

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long?” He drawled, entering the large room with his wife on his arm.

Built-in shelves held books and baubles. Dark wood to contrast the greens, couches, and creams of carpets.

Staying on his arm as they walked into the sitting room, she lightly squeezed his arm before glancing between the two aurors and then at Blaise.

"Thank you for making sure our guests were occupied," she drawled with a faint smile, the reserved expression of the lady of the house back in place.

“Mr Malfoy,” the first official said with a curt nod. “I believe you know why we’re here.”

Draco’s lips allowed the ghost of a smile. “I knew you were thorough, but we would have gladly come to offer my wife’s deposition in the morning,” he assured. “Attacked before me in a school no less,” he shook his head as though he hadn’t turned it into a bloody spectacle.

Staying tucked in against Draco, she glanced up at the aurors in question and gave a nod of her head. Rolling up the sleeve of her shirt slightly, she did show the bruising there. "McLaggen wanted to prove a point, I'm sure."

As she uncovered her arm, one of the two moved forward to glace at the blossoming bruises against pale flesh. Where he had seemed to come with preconceived knowledge of what had occurred, this was a very different portrayal.

“Would you mind answering a few questions, alone Mrs Malfoy.”

Draco nearly rolled his eyes, stepping behind her to kiss her cheek affectionately. “If you’re comfortable being alone with them, darling, I’ll happily step out, but your insinuations are not going unnoticed,” he warned, turning his gaze on the auror. As if he would harm his wife. Even if he had spent years trying to kill her.

Even if Draco had left the marks for this, she wasn't about to say anything negative about him. Their business wasn't the aurors.

"I wouldn't mind. Though I am rather tired after all of that. Afraid I won't be able to answer too many questions," she murmured, moving past the aurors to go and take a seat, gesturing for them to sit in the other ones available.

All the while, she kept that connection with Draco open. Might as well let him know what others were going to insinuate.

Draco stepped away, grateful for that bond. She’d feel his murderous streak as he bristled at that first impending question.

“Do you feel safe in your home?” The auror asked. His darker stare seemed genuine. In fact, he seemed surprised to have even gotten the chance to ask the question.

Raising a brow at that question, she couldn't help but chuckle. "Quite safe in my home. Safer than I've felt in years."

It was oddly honest. At least in this house, if anyone tried something, she and Draco would rip them apart. The one she had tried to kill for years, being her safe harbor, was still odd, but it worked.

He nods. “You’re bruised. I have to ask. I’m happy to hear you’re safe. Can you explain to us what happened tonight?”

His partner took a seat, notepad in hand, quill at the ready. “Starting with how you sustained those bruises.” The other man added, a heavy Scottish accent lacing his words.

"Well, McLaggen was making some rather horrid insinuations about my relationship with my husband. I'm sure there are quite a few people that still question our union," she started, glancing down at the ring on her finger and adjusting it to make sure it sat better on her hand. "When I didn't find his attempts to gain my favor or attention, he grabbed onto my elbow to keep me from pulling away without causing a scene."

Even without any conversation about how she would explain the bruises, she was weaving a rather convincing tale. A sigh left her lips, and she shook her head. "...I foolishly thought he'd just let go. We did know each other back when we went to Hogwarts. I didn't want to make a spectacle in front of the children, but he kept making insinuations about my fidelity to my husband. Draco arrived when I was trying to struggle out of his grip as discreetly as possible. And he had my wand arm..." she murmured, fingers ghosting over the bruises.

“I see,” the auror said and nodded. “So you sustained bruises in an escalating altercation you believe would have ended in sexual assault?” He asked more precisely as his partner continued to take notes.

Hermione nodded, trying not to rub at the bruises. She drew from when Draco's men had attempted it to make her expression suitably angry and uncomfortable. "He tried to imply he could make it worth my while and didn't seem to want to take no for an answer..."

“Thank you, Mrs Malfoy,” he jotted some notes. “We have a few questions for your husband, and we should be good for tonight,” he said, taking a stand.

Standing up herself, she waved them back to sit down. "Sit back down. I'm sure you'll both be busy after leaving our home. I'll get my husband for you." She said with a small smile before walking out of the sitting room.

Draco hadn’t strayed far in case things went south. He’d been in an armchair by the fire, holding a glass of firewhiskey, a journalist at his feet, begging for forgiveness. It was a dangerous game, given his other company across the hall.

“Are they done with you, darling?” He asked as she drew closer, as though there wasn’t a man sobbing on his expensive carpet.

Hermione crossed the room to the armchair, plucking the glass of firewhiskey out of his hands and taking a sip. The burn down her throat was delightful. Ignoring the journalist for now, she gave a nod. "They have a few questions for you now, darling. I can take over here if you'd like," she drawled, only now sparing a glance at the journalist.

Where her eyes had been a little warmer for Draco, they chilled to ice as she narrowed them at the man sobbing on the floor.

Rising, he vanished his glass. He might have given it to her, but he wanted her sober for his plans. “Enjoy before I delegate him to Zabini,” he nipped her lower lip before meeting back the aurors. He didn’t plan to suffer them long.

She almost pouted as he made the glass vanish. That was a perfectly good firewhiskey. A sigh left her lips before she smiled a little more at her husband. "I shall," she vowed, taking his seat in the armchair easily. Looking down at the journalist, she slowly lifted a brow. "So you're the one responsible for those delightful rumors about me..."