Chapter 9
When Hermione arrived outside of Le Gavroche it was 8:45; 15 minutes after the time Malfoy told her to be there. If he’d asked her or given a bit more notice she may have been on time, but as she’d had to use the phone box down the street from Harry’s and go through the yellow pages to call the restaurant and ask them what kind of dress code they had and what kind of prices they had, she was late. She had her grey and beige purse with her; wallet, important papers they may ask for at the meeting, chapstick, etc. inside it. And she had finally decided on a navy cotton skirt and a white linen button-down. She’d thrown her hair into a tight bun and slipped into a pair of navy ballet flats before heading out. She looked, in her own opinion, rather well put together. Perfectly suitable for a business casual restaurant. However, if the sneer on the greeter’s face was anything to go by she’d maybe missed the mark. She wondered, as he led her back to the table, if maybe she should have put on some makeup or something. But she hadn’t really had the time and she wasn’t all that good at applying anything other than lipstick so she thought maybe it was better to go without. When they got to the table Malfoy was sporting a sour, pinched look on his face as he glanced at his watch.
“You’re late,” he said as he stood and waved the greeter away. Once she was seated he retook his own chair as well. “I thought my letter was quite clear, you were supposed to meet me here at 8:30. It is now 8:48, and not only is it rude to the staff to make them wait for you, it’s insulting to me.” He sipped at a teacup as he spoke, his voice sounded restrained but didn’t rise at all.
“Yes well, your letter was insulting to me, so I suppose we’re even. Hi, yes could I please have a glass of warm lemon water? Thank you, I’ll need a moment to look over the menu.” She said flippantly as she opened the card. She almost gasped aloud at the prices, who paid £36 for a full breakfast? And £14 for plain porridge! Absurd.
“I insulted you? In what way could I have possibly insulted you?”
“For one,” she started as the waitress set down her drink. “You just decided that we were going to eat here at 8:30. You didn’t ask me, you demanded. If this was any other day and we didn’t actually have things to discuss, I wouldn’t have shown up at all. You will not presume to tell me when and where I go.” She finished sternly, taking a sip of her water.
“Hello Sir, Madame. What can I get you this morning?”
“Yes, I will have the Benedict Royal. With toast and marmalade on the side as well as a cup of whatever fresh fruit you have. She’d like to know what you’ll be having Granger.” Malfoy told her smugly, apparently glad in the fact that she was in a restaurant that was predominantly French-speaking. She smirked at him before she answered the waitress herself.
“Good morning, madame. I would like an order of your brioche french toast with mixed berries on top please. Oh and if I could get a pain au chocolat with raisins to go that would be lovely, thank you.” She smirked back at Malfoy who was openly staring at her now.
“Very good, I will put your order in right away. Please let me know if I can get you anything else.”
“I didn’t know you spoke french. Seems something someone from your... background, wouldn’t know.” He told her snootily.
“My background? What, because I’m a muggleborn I can’t know another language? Believe it or not, muggles are not drooling cavemen incapable of culture or refinement. In fact, they’ve made a lot of advances where the wizarding world is currently lacking. Like teaching people tact and respect.”
“I was referring to growing up poor.” He told her shortly, if a bit abashed.
“Poor?” She laughed. “Malfoy, I may not have grown up with a silver spoon in my mouth but my family was by no means poor. If I had been I certainly wouldn’t have gone to Hogwarts. Do you even know how much our schooling cost every year, not counting books, robes, and wands?” She questioned him.
“I do not. Mother and Father kept track of it all, not that we needed to. We certainly had plenty of galleons to cover it.”
“It cost a little over thirty-six thousand pounds to attend for one year. That’s nearly three-hundred thousand for the seven years we attended. So no, my family was by no means poor. And for the record, I spent almost every summer in France growing up because my father’s parents were French. And while I am not fluent, I can also speak a bit of Greek, Dutch, and German.” She finished, hiding a smile in her glass at his briefly impressed look. “Now, why don’t we get to what we’re actually here to talk about.”
“Yes, we need to discuss what will be happening next. We need to book vendors, a date for our fittings, and a time for the wedding.”
“Oh is that all,” Hermione snorted in false amusement. “What about the venue? Not to mention we’ll need to get a guest list together. And we should probably hire a wedding planner to get everything done on time. Not that it will matter much to you, but I don’t plan to marry more than once so as much as we dislike each other and this whole thing is a farce that will only last so long, I do want the day to go smoothly.”
“Well, we won’t be needing a planner, as my Mother would skin us both alive if she couldn’t do it. As for the venue, we will of course be married at the manor.”
“Hello again. I have brought your food. There you are, can I get you anything else today?”
“No that will be all, thank you. You can bring the bill in forty minutes.” Draco told the woman casually as he began to put the marmalade on his toast. Hermione stared at him blankly.
“I’m sorry, did you just say we are going to get married at the Manor?” She asked him monotonously.
“Of course we’ll be getting married at the manor, where else would we hold a wedding of that size.” Hermione’s mind short-circuited as she tried to focus on one problem at a time.
“There you go again, deciding without asking me!” She accused angrily, clenching her teeth to keep from raising her voice in the upscale establishment. “If you and I are forced to get married, we will be partners. Partners have an equal say in decisions! I’m not some pureblood doormat you can walk all over and dictate to. I have a mind and a voice and I will use both as I please. And nothing in this world, not even Voldemort himself, could get me back in that house.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being dramatic? Really? Because the last time I was at your house, I was tortured half to death by your crazy aunt! I’m lucky I’m not in the permanent Spell Damage ward of St. Mungo's right now! Do you have any idea how much pain and agony that damn witch put me through? So no, no I will not be going back to that place .” She finished, breathing heavily and shaking slightly at the reminder of what she’d experienced.
“Yes, actually I do know what you went through. Hermione, it kills me that I couldn’t do anything to help you while she was torturing you,” she both flinched and froze at his use of her first name. If he hadn’t, she would have accused him of talking out of his arse. “Look, we may hate each other but I didn’t want that war any more than you did. Do you think I liked watching people I knew be tortured in my home? Or having it desecrated by Him and his followers as they ran amok in the halls I grew up in? But I didn’t have any more choice than you did. I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of a Crucio or two from Aunt Bella, and no I can’t imagine how you are still a functioning adult today. But you are, and somehow we all survived long enough to be forced into ridiculous marriages. I meant what I said in eighth year; I really am sorry.” They stared at each other for a few moments, sitting in silence and processing what had been said.
“I know you’re sorry. Look, I don’t blame you for what happened, you were a kid too. I wasn’t expecting you to do anything, and I’m glad you helped as much as you did. You could have turned us in when the snatchers brought us in front of you; I know you recognized us. But you didn’t and that’s what counts. I wouldn’t have spoken at your trial if I thought for one second you had enjoyed any of it. But you understand why I can never go back, right?”
“Look, Granger,” he said, reverting back to his old self now that the conversation was getting too touchy for him. “I understand your reasons, I do. But I want my parents at my wedding, and for that to happen it needs to take place at the Manor. Father is still under house arrest for another year and Mother is still on probation. If it’s not at the house, then they won’t be there. I wouldn’t ask you to keep your parents from coming so don’t make me ask mine. You said you only plan on marrying once, and so do I. If it makes it any easier, Mother has invited you to tea after our treatment Friday so that you can be at the manor before the wedding. And, just so you know, she’s redecorated the whole house. Even the drawing-room where you were tortured.” She didn’t correct him on his statement about not asking her parents to come, that conversation was better left for another day. And her therapist (when she’d been going a year or two ago) had told her it was best to confront her demons head-on.
“I’ll think about it. But if I go and it doesn’t go well I reserve the right to move the wedding somewhere else. I’m sure I could persuade the minister to let your parents go elsewhere for one night.”
“Thank you.” He said uncomfortably. They ate in silence for a little while before the conversation continued. “I know Mother will likely help you decide most of the wedding details but I am required to ask you when you would like us to get our fittings done and what day would be best to meet with caterers and the cake makers to decide what we’d like. Mother has given me little choice in the matter and demanded I have answers when I come home.” So that’s who he got his rude, pushiness from. She had half a mind to talk to that woman about the lack of respect her son showed.
“I don’t really know if we need a caterer, I’m sure Molly could whip something up for the guests. I imagine there’ll only be a handful or so, so it won’t be too much of a hassle. The cake tasting we can do any day except August second. Other than that I’m available. As for the dress fitting, Ginny and I thought it would be best if everyone went together on Saturday. Even if we don’t particularly like each other, we’ll need to tolerate one another for at least the next fourteen years. We should probably attempt to get to know one another's friends, especially if they’ll all be in our lives. So we figured all of the girls; myself, Ginny, Parkinson, Luna, Astoria, and anyone else who wishes to go could do that while you and the boys get your own dress robes or tuxedos fitted and go to a pub or something.”
“Fine, whatever. I can do Saturday.” He told her a little absently. “Why do you think we’ll only have a handful of guests?”
“I figure it will be pretty intimate, right? Your family and a few friends, that can’t be more than thirty or forty people.” She said, finishing her french toast and taking a sip of water.
“Granger, I am the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune, one of the famed Sacred 28. Even if it doesn’t actually mean anything anymore to myself or anyone else our age, to the older generation it does. Not to mention you’re practically a war hero. Everyone in Wizarding Europe will want a seat at our wedding. You’ll be lucky to get Mother to drop the guest list under three hundred.” She gasped and swallowed simultaneously, causing herself to choke. She sat there coughing for a few minutes, turning reddish-purple as her eyes watered before she finally managed to take a drink. Malfoy looked on in concern. “Are you all right?”
“I’m **cough** sorry, but did you **cough** say **cough** three-hundred people were going to be at our wedding?”
“Yes, this shouldn’t be shocking, I am practically royalty. Not to mention you are...who you are. What did you expect would happen?” She finished her water and brought her breathing under control slowly.
“I’m sorry, I’ll be speaking to your Mother about that then. There is no way in Satan’s seven rings of hell that I will allow three hundred guests at our wedding.”
“Who’s rings of what?” Malfoy asked her curiously.
“He’s a muggle anti-deity and hell is where some Christian muggles presume bad people go when they die to be punished for all eternity.” She told him with a wave of her arm. “The term ‘seven rings of hell’ refers to humanity's seven main sins; lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride. Although, some Christians would argue there are actually nine circles of hell with slightly different connotations such as limbo or heresy.”
“Interesting. I wonder why they think that’s where they go when they die?” He mused. “Anyway, you’re welcome to try and speak with her, but my Mother is a socialite, Granger. And with her and Father being stuck at home and a lot of their former friend’s dead or in jail, she hasn’t had many hosting opportunities. I would get used to grinning and bearing it if I were you. I usually get by with a lot of alcohol and knowing where the best hiding spots are.”
“Duly noted.” She told him dryly.
“Thank you for dining with us today. You can pay with cash or card and I can take that here or you may pay up front.” Hermione looked at the check and nearly choked again, how could they have spent £190 on breakfast!
“I'll pay here, thank you. Put it on my Black Card.” He told the waitress nonchalantly as he handed over his charge card.
“Very good sir, I will be back shortly with your receipt.”
“Ok, two questions. One, how and why do you own a muggle currency card, and two, just how rich are you that you didn’t even blink spending nearly £200 on breakfast for two? I could have paid for my half you know.” She said, putting her wallet away since they didn’t seem to be splitting the bill.
“Granger, I spend that much regularly at restaurants for myself. It’s quite an insignificant amount. And since my potions company outsources some of the plants from muggle businesses, it’s just easier to have a card than to constantly be exchanging galleons. This way the goblins and the bank switch it over while I make a transaction and I don’t have to deal with the headache.” The waitress handed him back his card and the receipt before handing a small brown bag to Hermione.
“Here is your take away, madame. Thank you both for dining with us, please come back and see us soon, and have a wonderful day.” They collected their things and started to walk out towards the ministry.
“And to answer your other question, I have no idea how much money my family has. I know it’s more than my parents or I or the next two generations of my family could ever spend. I don’t really care to know the full number, since Father still handles all of the family's finances.”
“If you don’t know then how can you be sure you’re still so well off? For all you know your vault could be nearly empty!” He doubled over in laughter and Hermione had to force herself not to find his laugh pleasant or attractive in any way.
“Trust me, it would take quite a bit to give up half of our wealth. Even then, we still wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”
“Good to know?” She replied, unsure if it was a question or a statement. They arrived at their arranged meeting at precisely ten am and sat through a pointless and frankly boring meeting with their Ministry witch, a short and overweight woman in her fifties or sixties. Her hair was mostly grey with some blonde running through it, and her face had slightly more wrinkles than a middle aged woman, but not enough to be considered old.
“And have you decided where you will be holding the wedding then?” Minister Gimbal asked the pair sitting across from her at her desk, as she fervently attempted to write everything down that needed to be written.
“As of now, we’ll be holding it at Malfoy Manor.”
“Subject to change possibly within the week,” Hermione butt in as Malfoy sent her a short glare before turning back to the Ministry witch.
“Ok, very good, very good. And what time will your ceremony be?” They looked at each other before Malfoy answered.
“We hadn’t really discussed it yet. Do you need an answer now?”
“Well, we’d like to have it on record so that we can have a minister available to you. I know your’s will definitely be the biggest wedding but we’ve also got three more scheduled for the same day so I would like to make sure everyone will have an officiate.”
“You can put us down for five in the evening.” Hermine told the witch, glancing at Malfoy to see if he was ok with that. He shrugged, uncaring.
“Alright then, can I show you what we have available for honeymoons? You’ll get to take the pamphlets home of course but we have a few different variants you can choose from; things like beaches or mountains, or biking and backpacking, etc., etc. Do you know what interests you off the bat?” Hermione craned her head towards the visible pamphlets on the woman’s desk before once more glancing at her groom-to-be (who was looking just as overwhelmed as her). “Tell you what, why don’t each of you pick a few countries to look at and you can decide on your own. Just be sure to let us know by next week so we can book it for you. It will obviously be two weeks, starting after your wedding. We will be sending people at specific periods of time so that they can attend other weddings if need be. For your age groups we have two honeymoon periods, July 26th through the 9th of August for couples who are marrying earlier than the rest; this would include people who successfully petitioned the ministry for specific partners or those who were previously set to marry. In your case the Honeymoon period will take place, staggered mind you, between the 16th of August and the 13th of September. As your wedding is being held on the 14th, your honeymoon period will be from the 30th to the 13th. This way not everyone is gone at once but you can all go to each other's weddings. Any questions, do we know what pamphlets you’d like to take with you?” Hermione grabbed one for Greece, Russia, Africa, and Peru, and she noticed Malfoy grab one for Brazil, Turkey, and America. “Moving right along, do you know where you’ll be residing upon your return as a married couple?”
“No,”
“Malfoy Manor,” they said simultaneously. Hermione glared at her counterpart.
“No we do not know, nor have we had a chance to discuss it,” she ground out. Frustrated that he was, yet again, making decisions without her. Not only that but he was completely disregarding everything they’d discussed at breakfast! This was shaping up to be a pretty lousy partnership if you asked her.
“There’s nothing to discuss. This isn’t a decision we are allowed to make. If I wish to inherit or for any of my future children to inherit, then we must live at the manor at least sixty per cent of the year.”
“What? Says who!” Hermione shrieked, nearly jumping out of her chair.
“It’s written into the inheritance, it was never previously an issue as up until recently no one wanted to live anywhere else. It’s already a point of contention between myself and my parents, but there is no other way.”
“Do you really need your inheritance? I mean, we could just live as everyone else does; off what we make ourselves.” He glared at her.
“That’s not funny. No, I cannot live without my inheritance, I would be cast out by my parents. I would lose not only the wealth but also the clothes off my back, my job since it’s a part of the Malfoy corporation, and the right to give my children the Malfoy name. As I said, this is not a discussion.” He told her firmly. She shut her mouth, unwilling to argue about this in front of the Ministry worker. Not that she could really argue with him since his points were more than valid. She’d have to take it up with the will holder or an attorney at a later date. “So, yes, we will be living in Malfoy Manor.” Malfoy let the woman know. She jotted down some more notes, asked a few more questions, and reminded them that they had their first fertility meeting on Friday before standing up.
“Alright, I think that’s just about everything. It’s been a pleasure speaking with you today please feel free to owl me with any questions you may have in the future. Oh! Before I forget, here are the keys to your ministry vault.” She handed over the two plain skeleton keys as she ushered them out the door. “Have a nice afternoon, Mr Malfoy. Ms Granger.” The door shut behind them and they left the hall in silence, heading to the floo networks as Hermione tucked the key into her purse. As they approached the lobby Mione could hear her friend's voice in a heated debate. They turned the corner to see Ginny and Zabini deep in conversation, both looking equally pissed off and miserable. Ginny saw her and straightened her spine as Zabini stopped talking to turn and look at herself and Malfoy. Ginny glared once more at Zabini before walking around him and coming to give Hermione a hug.
“I’ll see you Friday, Granger,” Malfoy said as he left. “Good to see you again, Blaise. Weaslette.” Hermione glared at his back while he walked away before turning back to Ginny.
“How did everything go, Harry told me you guys had breakfast this morning. Was it ok?” Ginny asked her worriedly.
“It was surprisingly decent. A lot less hostile than I thought it would be, for the most part. I’ll talk to you about it when you come over later, ok? Are you going to be alright waiting by yourself?”
“I’m standing right here, it’s not like Ginevra is alone,” Blaise told her angrily.
“Yes, I see you standing right there. That’s why I was asking Ginny if she’d be alright.” Hermione told him with an eye roll. He glared at her but didn’t reply.
“I’ll be fine. Our meeting is in a few minutes and after that, I don’t have to see him again until Saturday.” Ginny said, pointedly throwing a glare over her shoulder at the darker man behind her.
“Ok, I’ll see you tonight,” Hermione told her suspiciously, sending her friend a look letting her know they’d definitely be talking about this later. They hugged once more before Hermione got in the floo network to head home to take a long bath.