Chapter 2
Five months previous
Hermione looked out the door before she slipped through and carefully shut it behind her. She picked up her skirts and walked swiftly down the alley until she came to the end of the blocks and then turned left, away from the main road. Slowing to a leisurely pace, she patted her hair in her French braid and brushed down her skirts.
She continued down the side street until it opened onto a parkland. She walked with purpose towards a copse of trees. As she came closer she began to look around. She didn't see what she was looking for, but it wasn’t too long before an arm grabbed her waist from behind and pulled her behind the trees. She squealed in surprise.
“Draco! You startled me!” she laughed as she turned around to face him.
“I’m sorry, darling, I could not resist,” Draco Malfoy said before he pulled her tightly into an embrace. “Quickly, let us move to our usual spot.” He pulled back and took her by the hand. They walked behind the trees and he conjured a blanket to spread on the ground. Then he sat and pulled Hermione onto his lap. She fanned her skirts out and looked at him adoringly.
“Well, why this sudden meeting?” Hermione had received a mysterious calling card that morning with just a name: Eustace Sextus Crabtree, III, which meant meet midday at the park.
Their code for meetings was ingenious - the first name meant nothing, the middle name was based on the Catholic canonical hours and the last name was a reference to the location. If anyone was curious about the number of calling cards Hermione received with different names, no one said anything.
“Do I need a reason to want to see my favorite debutante?” Draco brushed a few stray hairs away from Hermione’s face and tilted her chin for a chaste kiss.
“Of course, not,” Hermione said, after the kiss. “I am always pining for a glimpse of you. Our rendezvous are so few and far between.” She nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck.
Draco looked down at the petite witch and felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him. He wrapped his arms around her and hummed in contentment. Two years ago, he did not think he would ever feel like this about anyone.
Draco and Hermione had grown up together, he in the Manor, planning to follow in his father’s footsteps as the only child of a noble British wizarding family, and she as a poor relation of the Weasleys. Arthur was the manager of the Malfoy agricultural holdings, which meant that they were basically tenants on Malfoy land. When they were children, they had met at one of the many events the Malfoys hosted for their tenants and villagers and had become fast friends.
At first, all the Weasley children around Draco’s age were educated with the Malfoy governess. They all cavorted together, playing tricks on the stern governess, harassing the groomsmen and nursery maids and wreaking havoc everywhere they went. The Weasley twins, George and Frederick, Draco, Ronald, Hermione and Genevra were forever thinking up new ways to steal food from the kitchens, nick bedding from the laundry and traipse outside to their favorite English oak and spend the summer afternoons together. In the winter, if they could coerce a maid to light a fire in the frigid room, they built forts in one of the many drawing rooms of the Manor.
As they grew up, however, the boys began to separate a bit from the girls. Ginny and Hermione spent many hours following the boys around trying to take part in their antics. The Weasley brothers all eschewed the girls, and Draco went along with them, but he was more inclined to want to invite the girls to join them and was disappointed when the brothers overruled.
When they reached adolescence, they were completely separated, the girls not going to the Manor anymore but being taught feminine skills at their home by Molly while the boys continued learning with Draco’s tutor. At this time, Draco and Hermione had discovered a mutual love of books and more than once a bundle of books from the Malfoy library would make its way to the Weasley croft. Ginny was not so inclined towards reading, so Hermione would sneak off to the manor. She and Draco would find an unattended sitting room and read all of the classics, fiction and nonfiction alike. Hermione introduced Draco to Mary Shelley and Mary Wollstonecraft, the serialized novels of Charles Dickens and the Bronte sisters. Draco gave her Les Miserables , the poetry of Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats and the Brownings. They both loved the poetry and social criticism of Matthew Arnold and often talked about the politics of the era.
It wasn’t too long before they realized they loved each other. The feelings stole into their minds and hearts slowly, masquerading as a common outlook on life despite their obvious differences in social standing. Their love exploded when, after being caught in a thunderstorm, Hermione was struck by a nearly fatal bout of pneumonia. Draco was frantic with worry, insisting that his father bring Hermione to the Manor to ride out the illness and recuperate.
Lucius saw their friendship taking a path that he knew would only lead to heartache. He knew that Draco would have to marry as befit his station as a viscount. Secretly, he felt that Hermione was Draco’s match in everything, but their marriage was all but an impossibility. He could see their relationship rushing towards a point of no return and, rather than risk Hermione’s reputation, Lucius implored her to cut all ties. He offered to advance her education, find her a position that would enable her to live independently of the Weasleys, anything she wanted. She refused to take anything, but seeing his dilemma and wanting the best of Draco, she agreed to end it.
Draco was distraught when he came home from his first term at Oxford and found a letter from Hermione indicating she had taken a position as a governess and that she could no longer enjoy his company. He didn’t believe her, but no one would give up her location. After his second term and through that summer, he pined and no one and nothing could bring him out of it. Lucius worried for his son’s health and finally told him where Hermione was situated, fearing that, being a rather dramatic boy, he would do something drastic.
On a day near the end of her employment, Hermione was surprised by a man on horseback tearing down the lane to skid to a stop in front of the drive of the house where she worked. Upon closer examination, she realized who it was and, stunned, met him in the drawing room. After a stuttering start to a conversation, Hermione had had enough.
“Why are you here, Draco? We cannot be together, you must understand. I have employment and we can never be anything more than past friends. Please leave.” She tried to maintain a strong countenance but seeing him affected her deeply. He had lost weight, making his normally pale and angular features look like cut marble. Indeed, he looked like a humanless statue, but for the dark circles under his eyes and the haunted look of a man grasping a lifeline. She turned to leave, biting her lip to keep from crying.
“Don’t leave this way, Hermione,” Draco begged, “not until you can give me a good reason why you no longer want to continue our association. And, I beseech you, give me the respect of telling me the truth, for I know how you feel and you cannot convince me otherwise.”
She stopped and willed the tears back into her eyes before she turned around. It took all of her willpower to say to him, “I cannot give you what you desire, Draco. You must see that. I was not raised to be a viscountess and you cannot turn me into one. I have to find my own way and I am indebted to your father and the Weasleys for providing me with a home and an education to allow me to eventually establish a modicum of independence. If we were together as man and wife, you would soon tire of having to defend me to your peers; you would begin to seek pleasure elsewhere: the tables, the brothels, the clubs, leaving me home to be nothing but a hothouse flower, unfit to do anything but having children and perpetuating the status quo. Our lives would be the opposite of the idyllic times we have spent in our youth and I do not want that for you.”
“Hermione, is that the reason you have run from me? Because you fear what people will think of you? That has never been at issue before,” Draco was certain that he had heard no one speak ill of her, ever.
“No, I do not care for myself, I fear what people will think of you , Draco. You have grown up with one path before you and your stature would be diminished if I was at your side, you must see that.” Hermione started for the door once more, but a hand snaked out and stopped her from opening it. Draco turned her around to face him and tilted her chin up to look at him.
“Tell me to my face. Look at me and tell me you do not want to be with me,” Draco demanded. “If you can do that, I will walk out that door and never look back.”
She looked at him, started to say something, then stopped and looked away, looked down, looked over his shoulder, anywhere but in his eyes. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes and said, “Draco Malfoy, I do not want to be with you.” She held his attention for a few seconds, although it felt like forever, and then she looked away.
Still filled with disbelief but not willing to torment her or embarrass himself further, Draco dropped his hand, cleared his throat, and said, “Excuse me, then. I’ll be off.” He reached past her for the door and slipped through it shutting it silently behind him. Once in the hallway, he leaned against the wall and shook his head.
Hermione slid to the ground and let the tears flow.
That was two years ago. Draco let Hermione be, and she returned to the Weasleys after her posting ended. When he returned from school for good, they were constantly thrown together at village events, he because he was the Young Lord and she because she was always being volunteered by Molly Weasley. Eventually, they couldn’t deny what was right in front of them: an obvious chemistry balanced by a strong friendship and they began to meet secretly. At first Hermione was hesitant, once again her lineage standing in the way of her happiness. But Draco wore her down. He swore he was never going to get married; the line could end with him, he did not care.
—
“I do have a reason actually. You know my family is having our annual Yule ball on Christmas Eve. This year, everyone will be getting invitations - the neighboring manors and villages, everyone on the estate. I was thinking that it would be the perfect time for us to make our relationship official.”
At the look on Hermione’s face, Draco faltered. But only for a moment. He shifted her off of his lap and, facing her, he positioned himself on his knees. He took her hands and kissed each one.
“Hermione Granger, I love you and am in love with you,” he said earnestly. “I want nothing more than to be able to walk with you on my arm. I want everyone to know the beautiful, brilliant woman with whom I fell in love. Please say you will?”
Hermione tried to think of any sort of reason why she should say no. She loved him desperately. When they had parted two years ago, she slipped into a melancholy that never completely lifted until she was back on the estate and Draco had returned from Oxford. He was like a drug and she was addicted to him.
Shaking her head, she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Draco Malfoy, you know how I feel about you. I am utterly consumed with love for you and I just want to make sure we are doing the right thing, because once it is known far and wide, there will be no turning back. You are sure about this?” She squeezed his hands to emphasize her point.
“Even if I wanted to say no, I couldn’t,” Draco said fervently. “You are my light.” He leaned towards her and kissed her to prove his point. She pulled her hands from his and reached around his neck to bring him closer.
When they broke the kiss, Draco was smiling in triumph. “So, let us plan our announcement. I will be going abroad on the Tour in a sennight and won’t be back until just before the ball. That should help us keep the secret, yes?”
Hermione looked at Draco and nodded. “I shall miss you terribly, you know. Do you think you will be able to write to me? I would love to hear about everything you are seeing and experiencing.”
“Of course. Is there someone we can trust I have letters delivered to? I don’t think having them sent to the Weasley home is going to keep our secret.”
“I’ll find someone,” Hermione agreed. “Now, let’s stop planning and enjoy this lovely summer day, shall we?”
Draco moved back to his original spot and put his arm around Hermione and brought her close. He kissed the top of her head and leaned his cheek on her thick hair. He was most peaceful in moments like these.
--
Draco knocked on the door of his father’s study. He was nervous, but determined.
“Enter.”
He turned the knob and pulled the door open. Lucius Malfoy was sitting at his desk, going over bills of lading, correspondence and other items pertaining to the vast businesses of the Malfoy estate.
“Father,” Draco said, as he approached the massive, heavily carved desk. Lucius’ presence more than made up for his body, dwarfed as it was by the desk. It was always a little daunting to ask him something.
“Draco,” Lucius said back,” what can I do for you, son?” He didn’t even look up, just continued to sign his name on papers with a flourish.
“Well, Father, I am ready to get married.” Well, I managed to say that without any anxiousness. He continued without pause. “I want to marry Hermione Granger.” He held his breath, waiting for the fallout.
That made Lucius pause. His contacts were correct; Draco and Hermione had been seen together and it was apparent that they were more than just friends.
After Draco tried to get Hermione back two years ago, Lucius despaired of his son living to see his old age. He had never seen anyone so taken with another person. It was as if Miss Granger was a magnet, and if Draco tried to fight the pull, he would lose all his power and energy and waste away. The few times Lucius had seen them together, in moments when they thought no one was looking, he could tell they belonged together. But he had to be the voice of reason.
“Draco, this is folly. You cannot marry Miss Granger. She is beneath you and you must marry well. The Malfoy line depends on it,” Lucius finished.
“Do not tell me what I can and cannot do, Father. I am of age and this system of marrying in the same station is rubbish. Hermione is brilliant and she should not be penalized because her birth is lower than ours. I am either going to do it with your blessing or without.” Draco leaned on the desk and looked Lucius in the eye. “I would much prefer to have your blessing.”
Lucius sighed. “I have to say I agree with you, but know this: you will be in the scandal sheets and people will have nothing good to say. They will call Miss Granger a hussy and worse. They will think she is just after your gold, are you prepared to defend her and protect her from that?”
“I will defend her to the ends of the earth and back.” Draco was never more sure about himself. “Father, I was separated from her for two years; you know how I was when she left to take that post. I love her with every fiber of my being. I do not care what people may say. They’ll forget soon enough.”
“Ah, but have you asked her how she feels about her reputation being in tatters?” Lucius had to make sure she knew what she was getting into.
“She has never cared about that, surely you know that. She has only ever worried about the damage it might do to me. Besides, here, in Wiltshire, everyone loves her and they are not so blinded by status as those in London.” Draco was tiring of this line of questioning and wanted to put an end to his father’s playing devil’s advocate.
“We plan on making our relationship known at the ball. I would like to go one step further and propose to her. I need the ring that Mother wore, please,” Draco said with an air of confidence Lucius could only admire.
Lucius sighed and Draco knew that he had won. He pulled himself back up to his full height and just waited.
“Alright, son, I’ll have it for you the night of the ball. I have to make a trip to Gringotts to retrieve it.” Lucius looked resigned, but Draco knew that he would eventually come to see that this was the right, nay, the only thing to do.