Chapter Text
March wore on, sunny but cold, and with it came an increase in the amount of missives from his mother, all signed with her seal alone. Draco had supposed his father must still be sulking about his marriage to Hermione and hadn’t given him much further thought.
He and Hermione were both happy and together, and that was what mattered most.
The last few letters from his mother, increasingly pleading with him to reply, he had read but not responded to, altogether too hurt and unwilling to move past it all. Draco knew he wanted his mother back in his life but still had severe reservations about what his relationship with his father was going to be and so, in typical Draco style, he simply decided to bury his head in the sand abut it all and hope the issue magically fixed itself.
His Mind Healer told him he would get there in time but Draco wasn’t sure when, if ever, that would be.
Each of his mothers letters was of a similar vein beginning with apologies for how things had happened, followed by pleas to meet to have tea, and always making it explicitly clear that she was extending the invitation to Hermione as well. Inevitably, there was a mention of his father and her efforts to get him on board with everything, reminding Draco that his actions were borne of love and that she was bringing him around, and then signed off with sad and lonely statements about how she loved and missed him.
On this particular morning Draco sighed as he watched his mothers owl land next to his scrambled eggs with another scroll attached. He took the scroll and placed it by his cup of tea, handing the owl a morsel of bacon before it took off, not yet quite ready to read it.
The thing was, he knew it was not his mothers fault that the contract had been created. His mum had been quietly supportive of his relationship from the beginning, wanting only his happiness in anything. He knew that his father had acted alone, helped along the way by Astoria.
And yet…
Draco was also very aware, and uncomfortably so, that his mum would be missing him and was desperately trying to resolve the rift, something he very much wanted, too. He didn’t care to be the source of her upset, nor did he want to add to it, particularly after the past two years of nothing but turmoil. But similarly he knew inviting his mum back back into his life would pop the happy little newlywed bubble they were existing in, the joy they had finally been gifted, by giving his father the opportunity to slither back into their company, too.
He could visit his mother alone, of course, but Draco didn’t want to look like he wasn’t firmly on his wife’s side. And if he invited Hermione to go with him that then opened up a whole other kettle of fish because he didn’t want to have Hermione feel pressured to come to the Manor with him. To have to return to the place where she was fucking tortured, and then have to act like she was hunky-dory while his mother poured tea and tried to feed them cucumber sandwiches.
He had only received one missive from his father since being married which he had promptly, and violently, set on fire. It had been most satisfying.
His father. Yes, he was a problem. Because as soon as Hermione stepped foot in the Manor, his father would have easy access to her and Draco didn’t trust him one jot not to start spitting insults, or have a nefarious schemes in place so he could likely try and do away with her. Like putting poison in her tea, or casually handing her cursed objects that would kill her.
Taking Hermione to the Manor filled Draco with a deep sense of unease. Of course, he could simply ask her about her thoughts on the matter. His Mind Healer was actively encouraging it, stating that he should trust his wife to make her own decisions.
Draco knew this but really didn’t want to expose Hermione to further pain and upset, nor did he want an argument with her when she would inevitably agree to visit with his parents and put herself in harms way. That sort of reckless, foolhardy behaviour that he knew all too well from her misadventures thus far in life. Such a typical headstrong Gryffindor.
Things were good without inviting in more chaos. They were finally settled, their friends had accepted their marriage and celebrated it. They were together and happy and it was their time at long last to just simply live.
And so that left him in a bit of a pickle with what to do about his mother. Draco eyed the note and opened it, scanning the contents of the letter quickly.
He finished reading and folded the letter just as his magic flared around his shoulders and danced down his arms, as Hermione settled in next to him at the Slytherin table and dropped a kiss to his cheek.
“What’s that?” she asked curiously, as she poured her morning cup of tea.
Draco quickly confiscated the milk and started preparing it for her, because it was the gentlemanly thing to do and one should not let ladies serve themselves when he could simply do it for them.
Hermione rolled her eyes and then smirked as she dragged her plate closer and started setting up her breakfast, winking at him because she knew it bothered him and his Pureblood mannerly ways.
Draco raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Honestly, this witch.
He eyed the scroll again. “It’s from my mum.” he said quietly. Hermione’s eyes widened and she raised her eyebrows in surprise, blowing over the rim of her cup to cool her tea.
He handed the letter to her and Hermione skimmed it quickly.
“Obviously we won’t be going.” Draco said, spinning his rings in agitation. “I won’t subject you to returning to the Manor, and as she is under house arrest there are no other plans to be made and—“
“Draco, I think we should go.” Hermione said softly, interrupting him.
Draco continued on, not having fully heard her because he was so determined to get his words out. “It’s simply not possible. And inviting her back into our lives thus offers my father more opportunity to—“
“Draco, I think we should go.” repeated Hermione gently, setting her cup down and taking one of his hands in hers.
Draco stopped suddenly mid breath, preparing for his onslaught of further reasons why they shouldn’t go and peered down at her. “You do?” he asked uncertainly, searching her face for any sign of a fib. Her expression was open, clear and determined. “Hermione, you’d have to go to the Manor. I won’t let you! It’s not fair of me to ask that of you—“
Hermione snorted. “Well, then its a good thing then that I’m offering, isn’t it? Problem solved!”
Draco blinked at her in shock.
Hermione gave him a small smile and started stroking over his fingers with her thumb in that familiar sweep that soothed him. “I know you love your mum, and I know you miss her. It wasn’t her that did that to us, it was your father.” she said, softly but firmly. “I don’t want to punish her for someone else’s choices and decisions. And…”
Her voice trailed off before she cleared her throat and tried again in a stronger tone. “And my parents will maybe never remember me and I miss them so much. Yours are still here, and they love you, and I don’t want to cause you that same pain. So I think we should go. It’s important to me to do this for you.”
Her voice broke a little at the end and Draco quickly pulled her into his chest and hugged her close, dropping a kiss into her curls.
Merlin, how did he get this lucky?
A loud throat clearing noise came from the staff table a moment later and he quickly pulled back, the icy glare of McGonagall chastening him to not have displays of affection at the breakfast table.
“You’d… you’d really do that?" he asked softly, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs to wipe away her tears.
Hermione gave him a brave and determined look, her magic crackling through the lengths of her hair and glowing brighter in her eyes. “Yes. And I think it’s necessary I revisit the Manor. My Mind Healer has been encouraging this for ages, but I think it’s time. I’m ready. And I want to do this for you and your mum.”
Draco felt a weight he hadn’t known he was carrying lift off his shoulders and he pressed a firm kiss to her lips, pouring all his unsaid words and feelings into it, hoping she would understand everything he felt but didn’t know how to say.
“Mr and Mrs Malfoy, a reminder that this is breakfast time and there are children present. No more canoodling or I’ll see to it that you both have detention scrubbing cauldrons without magic, married and of age or not!” said McGonagall, her voice ringing across the Great Hall.
Snickers broke out among some of the students.
Draco grimaced and stood, offering Hermione his hand as she left the table and out the doors to the Great Hall, discussing their plans as they did.
The following Saturday found Hermione fussing with her dress; knee length and swishy skirted, with long gauzy sleeves and a modest neckline in a forest green that suited her skin tone. Draco had already complimented her several times but Hermione was being stubborn and she ignored him, continuing to check and then triple check that her outfit was smart enough and picking off imaginary pieces lint.
Hermione deemed herself ready at last and they fastened their cloaks and walked over to the the fireplace in the Star Dome. He had just grabbed a handful of Floo powder when Hermione tugged his arm and he paused in motion.
“Where… where will we arrive?” she asked softly, uncertainly.
A swell of love and admiration bloomed in Draco’s chest for her, that she was bravely facing down her demons and her nightmares by coming with him. He wrapped one arm around her (his other hand was still filled with Floo powder so he held that arm away, keeping the mess away from their clothes) and gave her a hug.
“The Gatekeepers Parlour, at the south of the estate. From there we will walk up through the rose gardens, into the walled garden and to the Solarium. I promise you won’t see anything from when you were there previously. It’s all been demolished and changed.” he said sincerely. “I thought arriving through the gardens might be easier…”
“Yes, I prefer that.” Hermione nodded shakily. She took in a deep breath and steadied herself and he watched in admiration as his wife stood taller and more determined than a moment before. “I’m ready when you are.”
They arrived in the Gatekeepers Parlour, a small but smart uninhabited abode that his mother liked to utilise for guests arriving for soirees, in a swirl of green from the Floo. A quick wave of their wands removed the soot and Draco held the door for Hermione as they stepped into the sunlit gardens.
A narrow paved path led up through well maintained lawns towards the walled gardens. It was the height of spring; sunny and bright. The sky was a magnificent shade of blue and scudded with white fluffy clouds. It was also much warmer in Wiltshire than Scotland and they quickly shucked their cloaks, Draco draping them over one arm as they walked.
Hermione gasped as they entered the walled garden and Draco led her through it, taking the scenic route so that she could see more. They stepped under an archway, honeysuckle blooming and smelling sweet, walking past flower borders that were filled with delphiniums, bluebells, daffodils, snowdrops, daisies, marigolds. The far wall was covered in yet more of his mothers prize roses, their buds just beginning to show and bloom in the warm, spring sunshine.
They walked past a large glass greenhouse which Draco explained was filled with vegetables and tomatoes that his mother tended to as they approached the Manor on a sweeping gravel path.
Draco watched Hermione for any signs of unease but she gave none other than steeling herself with a deep breath as he opened the southern doors and stepped through, taking her hand in his to offer her support as she entered behind him.
Hermione looked about in curiosity as he waved his wand and sent their cloaks to the cloak stand. They had entered into a large, airy and well lit entrance hall. The walls were a pale yellow which, with the sunlight streaming in through multiple windows, had given the area a warmth and light that banished away shadows of the previous year that might have lingered.
Draco took Hermione’s hand in his, linked their fingers and kissed the back of it. “This way,” he said as he led her further into the house. The hallway floor was a white and pale grey marble and Hermione’s heels clicked on it, echoing down the hall as they walked.
Portraits of his ancestors eyed them curiously but no insults were forthcoming. Draco supposed his mother might have threatened to set them all on fire if they dared utter a word. He, too, glowered at them as if daring them to make any kind of judgemental remark.
“The Solarium is just through here,” Draco said, as they walked through a small sitting room, painted in light blue and gold, stuffed with silken settees, two chandeliers and hundreds of books, most of them modern novels with colourful leather covers.
They had just reached the centre of the room when Hermione went ridged and let out a small shriek. Draco whirled around, immediately drawing his wand, grey eyes searching for whatever was causing her distress. His answer lay at his feet.
“Is that a… a polar bear rug?!” asked Hermione in utter horror, her eyes fixed unblinkingly at the massive cream fur rug on the floor, complete with claws, glass eyes and teeth.
Draco tucked his wand away with a huge sigh of relief, pleased that this was a simple issue and extremely glad that he didn’t need to start flinging hexes or curses at anything. “One of three.” he said proudly as he looked at the rug fondly, remembering hours in which he had lain on the thick fur drawing or reading. “The largest is in my mothers dressing room… Hermione, my love? Are you quite alright?” he asked in some concern.
His wife had sagged sideways, hands clutching a settee for support, her mouth open in wordless shock, eyeing the rug in front of her.
He marched over to her. They simply didn’t have time to stand and discuss his mothers interior design choices today. He eventually got them out the room, Hermione having refused to walk over the rug with denouncements about how it was ‘creepy’ and ‘abhorrent’ and with a muttered lecture about ‘endangered species and the serious issues of hunting.’
Draco grew concerned at that and quickly steered her down a hallway to the left, considering that if Hermione was affronted by the polar bear rug then undoubtedly she would dislike the hallway to the right which had thirty mounted tiger heads on the walls and was a more direct path to the Solarium.
Their detour concluded with no further hiccups, or taxidermied endangered species encountered, and they arrived at their destination.
The Solarium was a large room made entirely of glass, with a dark green and white, checkerboard, marbled floor. There was a table at the centre of the room, smartly laid out in what Draco recognised as his mothers finest afternoon tea set, along with Goblin made silver spoons and gold edged cups. He felt a small pang of affection for his mum as he recognised that she was trying her hardest, in the best way that she knew, to impress his wife and to apologise.
There were magical plants that moved lazily as if stirred by a small breeze and his mother had opened some of the glass panes on the roof to invite some cooler air into the room.
His mum rose to greet them as they stepped inside, wearing light blue, silk robes and with her hair twisted up into an elegant chignon. She stepped forwards nervously, a small smile fluttering over her mouth. She moved to hug him then hesitated and clearly thought better of it, but Draco couldn’t find it in his heart to be cruel to her and he walked forwards and wrapped her in an embrace.
She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly before stepping back to look at him. “My Draco,” she said softly, reaching up to pinch his cheek. “It’s good to see you.”
“Hi Mum,” he replied smiling before pretending to lean his elbow on her head as he had done as a boy once he had grown taller than her. She laughed and then turned to Hermione who was watching their interaction with nothing but happiness on her face and Draco felt a swell of emotion for her, knowing that she wanted him to repair his damaged relationship with his mum.
“Mum, allow me to introduce you. This is Hermione, my wife.”
Hermione stepped forwards and, rather than shake the hand Narcissa offered, took it in both of hers and said that it was lovely to finally meet her, having heard so many lovely things from Draco.
His mother smiled wider at that and offered them both a seat at the table as small pleasantries were exchanged along the lines of ‘must call me Narcissa’ and ‘your gardens are absolutely beautiful’ and ‘delighted you could join me this afternoon.’
Draco pulled out Hermione’s chair for her and his mothers before settling down at the table covered in a white tablecloth so thick he thought he could have used it as a blanket.
“Where is father?” he asked with a small glance at the door.
“I believe he is sulking with his pet peacocks on the northern lawn.” Narcissa replied in a cool tone, pouring them each a glass of cucumber water.
They settled to the table and just as Narcissa mentioned that she would call for a house elf so they could have tea there was a crack as a house elf appeared next to her. This one was dressed in a three piece suit, had a monocle and a green Malfoy crested tie.
“Ah, Shilling! Thank you. Could we have afternoon tea now, please?” requested Narcissa with a polite smile.
Shilling inclined his head and cracked away again.
Draco suppressed a snort of laughter watching Hermione eyeing the house elf beadily, likely trying into ascertain how well his mother looked after them and if they were paid. He gave her a look that practically begged her not to try to incite a revolution with the Malfoy house elves about wages and holidays when the door to the Solarium opened and, lo and behold, there was his father standing in the doorway.
He was still every inch Lucius Malfoy but perhaps more diminished than he had once been. His fathers long hair was in a smooth ponytail, tied back with a black velvet ribbon, and he was clad in dark green dress robes and polished black shoes, silver serpent cane in hand.
Draco instantly stood up, wand out, and moved himself in front of Hermione. Rationally he knew it was unlikely that his father would do anything (he was wandless due to his house arrest) but he could never be too careful. Perhaps he was about to fling cursed jewellery onto his wife and cackle while she succumbed to her demise.
“What are you doing here?! Mum said you wouldn’t be here, that’s the only reason we agreed!” Draco bit out angrily, eyes never wavering from his father.
Lucius gave a faint sneer in his direction and walked in smartly, cane tapping as he did, closing the door and moving towards the table.
“Lucius, you promised me—“ began Narcissa in a voice so calm yet icy that Draco swore he could see icicles forming in the air as she spoke.
“I did, Cissa, and I am here in a peaceful capacity.” Lucius replied silkily, giving Narcissa a small smile.
Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. He doubted his father had ever been peaceful.
Lucius inclined his head towards Draco who responded stiffly, unable to shake his lifetimes worth of manners and his brain screaming at him to ignore his father. He continued to stand in front of Hermione, who had clearly had enough of men posturing in front of her. She nudged him with one sharp elbow to the side, eyed his chair and when he refused to budge she sent a wandless prod of his body towards it. Draco reluctantly sat down, his wand held loosely in his hand as Hermione stood up, brushed down her dress and held her hand out firmly towards his father.
“Ah Miss Granger. I have been instructed to be on my best behaviour in regards to you today,” his father drawled, sounding for all the world as if he was about to indulge in his very worst behaviour.
Hermione gave a small smirk that Draco knew came before a biting remark and he wasn’t wrong as he listened to her reply.
“It’s Mrs Malfoy actually, but perhaps for the sake of Draco you might like to call me Hermione.” She held her hand out still, waiting on him taking it and raised her brow ever so slightly in challenge as he considered it.
“Lucius…” began Narcissa, warningly.
Lucius ducked his head and took Hermione’s hand in his, and bowed towards her. “Charmed, I’m sure.” he murmured insincerely before releasing her, wiping his hand surreptitiously on his robes and walking around the table and taking a seat next to Narcissa.
“Cissa, I noticed you chose to open the windows this afternoon. I think that a wonderful choice. There was this odd scent I couldn’t quite place around the Manor today…”
“Father—“ began Draco in a murderous tone, casting an anxious glance at Hermione, who merely rolled her eyes, turning to Narcissa to pass a compliment to her about her walled gardens and how beautiful the flowers were in the spring sunshine.
Draco sat and in that little pocket of his mind that contained Hermione he felt her feelings towards the situation. That she was determined to be calm, that she wasn’t fussed in the slightest by his father’s behaviour and she was wished to make this tea worthwhile for his own sake, as well as his mothers. Draco inhaled a deep breath to calm himself and turned back to the conversation at hand.
“Just mesmerising. Do you do all the gardening yourself or do you have a gardener?” Hermione asked, ignoring Lucius entirely who was looking rather put out that his insult had failed to land.
“Oh, we hired a wizard from the local village who tends to the more heavy lifting but I do find that gardening brings me such a sense of magical and peaceful energy—“ Narcissa began with a smile, likely grateful that Hermione was ignoring her husband’s idiocy.
“Yes I couldn’t quite place it. Something earthy, rather like that awful manure they spread on the local fields,” drawled Lucius who, in Draco’s opinion, seemed determined to be a pain in the arse.
“Father!”
Hermione didn’t even bat an eyelid, sipping her cucumber water and continued the conversation as if there had been no interruption. “Draco tells me that you enjoy growing vegetables too?”
There was a loud crack and Farthing appeared in the Solarium, glaring furiously at Lucius and brandishing a dish cloth threateningly.
“You is not insulting Hermione!” Farthing squeaked determinedly, whacking Lucius over the head with her dish cloth.
Draco bit back a wild peal of laughter, throughly enjoying seeing his father be smacked by such a very tiny and elderly house elf.
He glanced at Hermione out the corner of his eye and saw that she was frozen in shock, as was his mother.
“You is being nice to Hermione, or Farthing will be after you!” Farthing announced, wildly smacking Lucius about the head with every other word.
Lucius managed to knock away the dish cloth and glared at Farthing furiously. “Listen here, you deranged elf—“
Draco decided to intervene, seeing Farthing’s eyes light up maniacally as she conjured an even larger dish cloth and started brandishing it above her head, whirling it around in fast circles. “You will say no such thing about Farthing, or her very new and terrifying revolutionary behaviour! I am Lord Malfoy now, and you do not have the power to do anything to her.” Draco snapped, reminding his father who now held the power in House Malfoy, and feeling a strong concern that he needed to keep Farthing safe from harm.
Draco turned to look at Farthing. “Farthing, please ignore my father should he ask things of you. And while I thank you in your loyalty in regards to Hermione, perhaps you should stop beating him. We should strive for a more civilised afternoon tea.”
Farthing listened and nodded, but turned back to Lucius in consideration. “Perhaps one more, Master Draco, for good measure?”
Draco heard a muffled squeak that he presumed was Hermione trying not to laugh.
Draco gave his father a bland smile. “You make a worthy point, Farthing. I find I am still rather peeved about his meddling in my life with that blasted contract. Last one then!”
“Farthing will make it a good one,” vowed his elderly house elf in feverish excitement as she brandished the dish cloth. And Draco counted no less that five almighty wallops before Farthing stopped, vanished her dishcloth, saluted Hermione and disappeared away with a crack.
Draco turned to Hermione in mock exasperation. “You see what you’ve started? Farthing is now a revolutionary!”
Hermione grinned then smiled over at his mother. “My apologies, Narcissa. Farthing is extremely loyal to me. Please, we were about to discuss your vegetables…”
Draco listened as his mother steered the conversation away from the mischief and menace of Farthing’s actions and his father sat stiffly, tidied his hair and pouted, looking a little embarrassed at being beaten around the head by a house elf.
Draco delightedly decided to preserve this memory in a vial so he could watch it whenever he chose to.
At that moment Shilling arrived back in the room with a crack bringing two large pots of tea, along with milk, lemon and sugar before two more house elves in liveries turned up and served them small plates of fish in a cream sauce with new potatoes and fresh green vegetables.
“I thought something light and continental might be lovely on a spring day such as this. And I remember Hogwarts food all too well. Delicious but leaning rather heavily towards British stodge. This is a family recipe from our Chateau in France…” Narcissa explained as she waved her wand to pour tea into their cups.
Hermione thanked her politely and started adding lemon slices to her drink, stubbornly and deliberately ignoring Draco’s offer to take the silver tongs and do it for her.
“This must be quite the novelty,” began Lucius, as he picked up his cutlery.
Draco sighed, wondering what nonsense his father was about to spout and wondering if Farthing would be back with her dish cloth.
“I believe that Muggles don’t have a varied diet. What fun, to see a Muggle try their very first vegetable after a lifetime of a poor diet, and food cooked without the use of magic—“ Lucius said with a faint sneer in Hermione’s direction.
Farthing reappeared with a crack, dish cloth already in hand.
“Oh look, a house elf is here to rescue your wife again,” taunted Lucius, clearly enjoying himself and not looking remotely bothered that Farthing might beat him about the head for the second time that afternoon.
Draco felt a flare of anger surge through his magic that came from him, but mostly from Hermione.
“Ah, Farthing, thank you so much for your help, but really there is no need. I can more than manage Lucius and his uneducated drivel.” Hermione said calmly, smiling over at Farthing.
Farthing nodded in understanding but sagged in disappointment.
“Perhaps another time,” Draco said encouragingly.
Farthing eyed Lucius in loathing, blew an enormous raspberry at him, and disappeared again with another crack.
Hermione looked at Draco and painted a smile back onto her face as she turned to his mum. “This looks wonderful,”
“Yes,” Draco nodded, as he too lifted his cutlery. “One of my favourites, Mum, thank you.”
Narcissa gave a small and shaky smile and lifted her own knife and fork, fondly recalling a holiday in which Draco had apparently requested this meal for dinner each night.
They managed a few mouthfuls of food, until Draco heard his father muttering something under his breath. What it was he didn’t quite hear, but his mother clearly did and she placed her cutlery down on her plate with enough force that all the china on the table clinked.
“How dare you? You swore you were going to behave! You said you wouldn’t even be here!” Narcissa said, looking both hurt and cross at the same time.
“Now Cissa, I merely meant that I can recognise that magic gifted Draco a Soul Bond, albeit with a… person below our standing.”
“Lucius, that is enough! I will not tolerate this rudeness towards Hermione! You will be polite and civilised, or you will be finding alternate bedchambers for the foreseeable future!” Narcissa snapped, glaring at her husband with all the force she could muster.
Draco inwardly groaned at the universal horror of hearing anything to do with ones parents and their bedchambers. He liked to believe he was an immaculate conception and that his parents kept their clothes on at all times, thank you.
Lucius pursed his lips as if weighing up whether or not hurling insults at Hermione would be worth finding new bedtime accommodation. “I find I might enjoy sleeping in a spare room on this occasion.” he said, eyeing Narcissa with a small smirk.
“I will set all the spare beds on fire and have you sleep in the cellar!”
“It is high time the cellar was renovated. Perhaps this is now my chance.”
Narcissa narrowed her eyes. “I will meddle with your hair potions.”
“You wouldn’t!” Lucius said, sounding horrified, and he fingered his ponytail in alarmed concern.
“You’ll never know which ones.” Narcissa continued easily as if she were merely discussing the weather, picking up her cup of tea and sipping it daintily. “Your parma violet hair potions are quite powerfully scented. You’d never know which one I might have slipped a hair removing potion in.”
Draco watched as his parents glared at each other until his father sighed and sagged slightly. “Very well, Cissa dear.”
A moment of peace the length of a heartbeat was afforded them all as they began their meal.
Lucius sipped his tea with his pinky out, watching Hermione pick up her fish knife with sharp eyes. “I must say, I do find your manners rather impressive. You know which cutlery to use, which I find intriguing given your background.”
“Father, that’s enough.” Draco seethed, slamming his cutlery down onto the table with such force that his tea slopped over the rim of his cup.
Hermione took a deep breath in and out before putting down her own knife and fork, carefully placing them down correctly on the plate as she regarded his father with amused interest. Draco very nearly flinched. This was the look she levelled at somebody right before she took them down. The last time it had been deployed was to Astoria right after they were married.
Draco internally shrugged. His father would get what was coming to him, and it might be fun to watch.
“Speaking of manners, did you know that sticking your pinky finger out when drinking is actually a symptom of Syphilis?” Hermione said lightly, her eyes lingering on Lucius’ hands which were clutching his teacup, and with some amusement.
“Syphilis?” Lucas enquired with some confusion, cup poised by his lips.
Hermione’s gave a sharp wicked smile and Draco groaned slightly in his chest, knowing that this could only ever mean trouble and mischief.
“A sexually transmitted venereal disease.” Hermione stated clearly.
His mother gave a small gasp of horror, pink tinging her cheeks and accidentally slopped a small spill of tea into the rim of her saucer. For all her gracious hostess ways and Pureblood manners this was akin to a regular person shrieking in surprise and falling backwards off a chair.
Draco didn’t know if he should be horrified, or laugh uproariously that his wife was causing mayhem at what would undoubtedly go down in history for being one of the most chaotic afternoon teas at the Manor. Sexually transmitted diseases indeed. It was hardly a topic one should discuss around the table.
Lucius blinked at Hermione then spoke slowly and clearly as one might to an imbecile. “It is good manners to have ones pinky out when one drinks tea.”
“Oh, I assure you it’s not.” Hermione smiled pleasantly as if discussing sexually transmitted diseases and their symptoms over afternoon tea was a regular sort of thing. “When I arrived at Hogwarts I wondered why so many witches and wizards had their pinky out when drinking tea. In British Muggle society it’s terribly bad manners, you know. My mum was very well to do growing up and was insistent on my knowing proper table manners, cutlery placements, etcetera. So I found it curious that Wizarding society differed so much on this. I did some research and it turns out that several hundred years ago when Royal Courts were in session and full of rampant sex and debauchery—“
Draco himself spluttered into his teacup.
“—that sexually transmitted diseases were rife. This particular symptom of sticking your pinky finger out was often a symptom of being afflicted by Syphilis. But the afflicted persons would often lie about it. They didn’t want anyone knowing they had contracted the disease and so they pretended having their pinky stick out was good manners, all to cover up the fact that they had an… issue, shall we say.” Hermione made a general wave of her hand around waist level, looking like she was thoroughly enjoying watching Lucius squirm.
His mother was sat with her eyes so wide he could see her entire pupil, completely frozen in her seat. Draco doubted any of her etiquette training had prepared her for this.
“What with the mingling of Purebloods within Royal and upper class society back then, I’m assuming that the lie was passed along, with more wizards doing it too, thinking it was polite and mannerly. However, Muggle science has since theorised that it was a symptom of Syphilis. Therefore it became a bit of a laughing point for Muggles about sticking your pinky out if drinking anything.”
Lucius cleared his throat and looked down horrified at his pinky finger and slowly curled it back in line with the rest of his fingers.
“My that was… rather educational, isn’t that right, Lucius?” prompted Narcissa, cheeks still bearing spots of pink.
Lucius scowled and took a sip of tea, sans pinky out.
Hermione gave him a sharp smile and her eyes twinkled in delighted mischief before she picked up her cutlery again. “Narcissa, this fish is absolutely delicious.”
His father said very little for the remainder of the meal and Draco found himself watching in absolute delight as his father cast curious glances at his hands when holding his teacup from time to time.
Fish course and the the following one of spring quiche and salad dispensed with, Shilling reappeared with a dainty selection of petit fours and offered a dessert wine pairing.
“I require something slightly stronger than that,” muttered Lucius, standing and tapping his way over to a sidecar that he opened with a wave of wandless magic that Draco was certain the Ministry didn’t know he had, and poured himself a large gin and tonic in a crystal glass.
Narcissa glared daggers at her husbands back but swiftly smiled at both he and Hermione. “A marvellous idea, Lucius! We should toast the union of our son and Hermione. Perhaps a cocktail? I tried the most wonderful concoction at Posy Parkinson’s recently… Shilling!”
Shilling reappeared and his mother gave instructions to him regarding drinks. He reappeared moments later with three crystal tumblers filled with crushed ice, blackcurrant syrup and gin. In that time Draco’s father had knocked back one large gin and tonic and was in the midst of pouring a second.
Draco wondered how Hermione might fare if his father got sloshed in the middle of the afternoon and decided, given how she was managing thus far, that she would be able to hold her own.
Hermione accepted her cocktail with thanks, quickly waving her fingers to conjure the small cocktail umbrella that she loved and popped it in her glass before adding one to Draco’s own drink. Draco smiled at her indulgently as she hesitated and then offered Narcissa one of her own.
His mum startled then held out her glass for Hermione to add one to her own as well with a smile.
“They’re silly, I know, but I love them. They remind me of my parents and trying different drinks on holiday.” Hermione said as she conjured a blue umbrella in the same shade as his mothers robes.
“How lovely,” said Narcissa, admiring it for a moment. “We must toast your marriage, Draco.” she continued, raising her glass.
“Must we?” muttered his father petulantly, deliberately setting down his glass instead of joining in.
“Thank you.” said Hermione, after they clinked glasses and had taken a sip of their drinks. She settled her glass and looked down at the umbrella fondly. “They are part of treasured memories of my parents.”
“Speaking of parents,” interrupted Lucius, as he lounged with this own umbrella-less drink. “Now that this… embarrassment of a marriage has been finalised, will we be expected to interact with these Muggles of yours? They can’t very well step foot on the Manor grounds, what with the wards set to maim any Muggle who dared to do so. What do they have to say about their daughter absconding school to marry without the grooms fathers permission? Did you even receive your own fathers permission to wed prior to defying my wishes?”
Draco slammed his drink down and stood to his full height, eyeing his father furiously, but before he could open his mouth to defend Hermione he felt her hand on his arm and she somehow pulled him back down to sitting.
He made himself feel better by levelling several angry glares at his father instead.
“My parents had nothing to say on the matter because they don’t know they have a daughter. I Obliviated them before the war and they have no idea who I am.” Hermione began cooly.
“Hermione, please. I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to think that this meal—“
“Thank you, Narcissa. I appreciate that, and I know you mean well, but perhaps it's better to bite the bullet as the Muggles say and simply get this over with.” Hermione said calmly but firmly before turning her attention back to his father.
“They may have no idea of who I am, but they taught me right from wrong and what they knew about Draco and I, they very much approved of. And although I don’t know for certain, I doubt they would begrudge me happiness with the man I love.” Hermione took a sip of her drink as if to steel herself before she continued.
“As for permission,” and Hermione all but spat the word, “I very rarely ask for it. I find it far better to suit myself. As it goes, the idea of the man being the head of the household and needing permission to be given for his daughters to do things is terribly old fashioned and very rarely practised in the Muggle world.”
His father eyed Hermione with disdain. “May I be frank, Miss Granger?”
“Her name is Malfoy!” barked Draco in irritation. His father ignored him and gave no indication that he had heard him.
“Miss Granger, now that I have been told to get on board with this marriage, I find I have encountered some issues. I have concerns that your… Gryffindor values, not to mention the company that you keep, are not in line with Malfoy family values. Our name holds power and tradition, and frankly wielding modern Muggle values like a battle flag are not what we—“
“Do not presume to include me in this nonsense, Lucius.” Narcissa interjected, voice lethal and icy.
“—are not what I had hoped for in a wife for Draco.” Lucius corrected smoothly.
“I can choose whom I want for a wife!” Draco said angrily, furious at being spoken about as if he were a silly little boy with no thoughts or feelings of his own.
“Astoria Greengrass was a much finer choice, in my opinion. A Pureblood girl, raised to uphold traditional values, to value and care for the same things we do. To—“
Hermione held up her hand and did something Draco had never seen anyone do before; silence his father mid sentence.
“Lucius, I’m going to cut to the chase here. I understand you wished for Draco to marry a Pureblood woman and sire Pureblood heirs, keeping the Malfoy name ‘unsullied,’” Hermione crooked her fingers into inverted commas as she spoke. “I expected to hear something along these lines when we were invited to afternoon tea, and so I took the liberty of looking into some things.”
‘You weren’t to know I was going to be here,” said Lucius, his eyes narrowing at Hermione as he spoke.
Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes, rummaging in her bag. “Oh, please. Your son is a complete menace when he doesn’t get his own way, so it stands to reason that you would be the same and would pester us. Aha!”
She looked triumphant as she produced a sheet of parchment along with the notations and started discussing Muggle science, inbreeding, that the Greengrass family had produced more squibs than any other Sacred Twenty Eight house in the past three centuries and that their blood carries a curse.
Draco blinked in shock as Hermione directed this information at his father with ease. He eyed her, impressed and a little terrified, until he remembered his darling wife had just called he, Draco, a menace. He pondered if he should feel insulted.
He decided he might require Sad Things later.
He tuned back into the conversation just as Hermione floated a Muggle textbook, complete with colourful indexing, towards Lucius that then nudged his head aggressively with it until his father snatched it out of the air.
“I’ve taken the liberty of indexing the parts that you will find relate to all of this and have included notes on how it relates to magic and Squibs.” Hermione said, with an academic little nod of her head.
She took a fortifying breath in and continued. “I did my research and according to my studies, if Draco had married Astoria,” and she sneered the name as hard as she could, “they would likely have been unable to conceive an heir. And in the very unlikely event that they were even able to conceive, that heir would be a carrier of the Greengrass blood curse. A curse that would then would be in the Malfoy bloodline. And the blood curse? Astoria would most likely have died post childbirth. I don’t like the woman but I wouldn’t wish that future on anybody.”
Narcissa gasped in horror while Lucius scowled down at the textbook in his hand.
“You’ll find the blue notations relate to the introduction of new blood into a bloodline. Something to consider given that your son just married and thus injected a whole new potential bloodline into the ancient House of Malfoy.”
“Oh,” and Hermione produced another sheet of parchment and levitated it over to his father. “If we are concerned about the company I keep I’m presuming that you are worried that I am a resident goody goody and not capable of breaking any rules… or laws?” She raised her eyebrows waiting on a confirmation from Lucius that never came.
“Here’s a list of some of my more… unsavoury acts. And don’t even think of trying to blackmail me with that. It's charmed to dissolve after reading and you can’t duplicate it either. Try and talk to anyone about it, other than the four people at this table, and there’s a neat little curse that will activate. Oh, and the Minister for Magic absolved me of all those wrongdoings for helping take down Voldemort.”
She took a hearty sip of her drink and Draco looked at his wife in sheer awe at how powerful and slightly scary she could truly be.
“Go ahead. Narcissa please, you too.” and Hermione gestured to the floating parchment.
His parents leaned their heads together and Draco watched with some amusement as his fathers face went from shock, to disbelief to horror, right as he mouthed the words 'robbed a bank on the back of a dragon.’ The parchment dissolved and his parents looked up at his wife; his father in alarm and his mother a mixture of impressed terror and something that looked, inexplicably, like pride.
“Oh, one final little matter.” Hermione took out her wand, waved it at her palm and a thin slice appeared there, which she held up for Lucius to see. “And my blood is as red as yours.”
She waved her wand again and the cut disappeared, her hand looking as if she had never bled at all. She sat back and finished her drink. “Narcissa, that cocktail was delicious. I see why you recommended it.”
Lucius eyed Hermione carefully through sharp, watchful eyes as his face broke into a lazy smirk and he raised his gin to her in toast. “Welcome to the family, Mrs Malfoy.” he said smoothly, drinking to her in toast.
Draco decided that Flobberworms must be flying if his father was toasting his wife and thus concluded Lucius must be up to something because that was quite the turn around he seemed to have had. Perhaps it was all the gin.
His mother seemed to be thinking along the same lines and the afternoon tea was quickly wrapped up.
His father disappeared off somewhere without saying goodbye, yet another gin in hand, and Draco considered if his fathers latest habits were leading him casually down the path of alcoholism.
Draco held open the door for his mum and wife as they both stepped out the Solarium. Narcissa fluttered nervously as she escorted them down one hallway and then another, talking of this and that but Draco could tell she was quite unsettled with how the afternoon had gone.
Their path brought them near the library and Draco paused, one hand on Hermione’s back, saying he wanted a quick word alone with his mum. Hermione kissed Narcissa’s cheeks, thanked her profusely for lunch and when his mum tentatively, almost shyly, enquired about the possibility of doing this again Hermione agreed and he watched as his mum broke into a true smile.
“One moment, Mother,” he murmured. He turned to Hermione and pulled her closer to the library doors. “I think you’ll like this,” he said as he pushed them open. Hermione gasped in sheer delight, her eyes huge with wonder and then squealed in happiness.
“Oh my gosh!” she whispered as she entered, her brown eyes huge and sparkling with wonder. “It looks just like the library in ‘Beauty and the Beast!’” and she rushed in without a backwards glance at either of them.
Draco didn’t know what ‘Beauty and the Beast’ was but he chuckled fondly as he pulled the doors closed to give him a moment of privacy with his mum. “She’ll try to live in there now that I’ve shown her that,” Draco said with a small laugh.
His mum came up and took his hands in hers and he looked down at her and how small she now was compared to him. “Thank you for today, Mum,” he said softly.
She gave him a shaky smile, her hands trembling slightly in his own larger ones. “Your father… I didn’t… I swear, Draco, I begged him to behave…” Her blue eyes shimmered with tears.
He pulled her into a hug just as they spilled over onto her cheeks. “I know, Mum.”
“I don’t know what Hermione must think…”
“From what Hermione said, she thought he would pull something like that and that’s why she prepared herself. She said she doesn’t hold you responsible for the Betrothal Contract with Astoria. And nor do I.”
His mum pulled back and passed a shaky hand over her face, righting the smudged make up and removing the last traces of her tears. “I wonder if you could pass this on to Hermione.” she said as she handed Draco a small scroll. “It's an apology for… well, her last visit here. I wanted to talk to her about it, but there’s no easy way to wriggle that into conversation, and after your fathers performance at afternoon tea I don’t think now is the time so I hoped…” she looked at him pleadingly, her sentence trailing off.
“l’ll pass it onto her," he vowed, stowing the scroll into his inside suit pocket.
His mum was watching him apprehensively. “I’m sorry, Draco.” she whispered, her eyes focussed unwaveringly on his own.
Draco sighed, and he felt a lot of his frustration and anger at the past few months leave his body. “It wasn’t you. I’m not angry with you, I just needed… space. Everything was finally good and I knew if I came to meet you I’d have to confront Father and I simply… I simply didn’t want to. I didn’t feel ready.”
His mum looked a little guilty and Draco felt the need to comfort her. “I’m glad we did this today though. Even with all that nonsense from Father. It was better to bite the bullet as Hermione likes to say, than to hide away from him for longer.”
“He is coming around, Draco.”
Draco raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“He is. I know that nonsense at afternoon tea was appalling behaviour, but a lot of it was him postulating. He has absolutely no idea how to interact with anyone Muggleborn and he is having a hard time letting go of certain airs and graces. But there is progress. He met a force of nature in Hermione and he seemed to like how very direct she is. Nobody ever speaks to him like that, or ignores him, and I think that will be good for him to have someone around that is capable of that.” Narcissa said, looking hopeful and exhausted at the same time.
Draco heaved in a deep sigh, feeling that it was good that his father might actually come around to the idea of his being married to Hermione, along with the exhaustion of what other interactions between himself, his wife and his father may bring.
Narcissa took in a deep breath herself and glanced at the library doors. “From what I remember of your letters in First Year, Hermione loves a library. You’d best go find her before she gets lost in there.”
Draco chuckled and nodded in agreement.
His mum gave him one final hug, reminded him to say goodbye before they left and then took her leave saying she was going to set some spare beds on fire and ready a sleeping space in the cellars. Draco chose not to ask any further questions.
He wandered into the library and tried to guess where Hermione might have gone. After a quick sweep of the ground floor he walked up the spiral staircase that led to the second floor and, after a few long minutes of searching the stacks, found Hermione at the desk that was always his personal one, with at least thirty tomes around her, looking like she was in heaven. Her hair swirled about her head, curls almost sentient, her magic dancing through the lengths.
Fuck, she was so pretty. She was glowing with her magic as she leaned over his desk and pored over the text in front of her. His trousers tightened because he had spent a great deal of time in his younger years imagining her in this exact position, bent over his personal desk, her pert backside and soft curves just begging for his hands on them.
She looked over her shoulder at him as he approached, a huge smile taking over her face. “Draco, this is incredible! These texts are so rare! Look at this one! Ashmole 782; The Book of Life, I always wanted to read it, I can’t believe—“
He swept her up in a deep possessive kiss, lifting her up and scooping her up into his arms, her legs off the floor. “You brilliant, marvellous, devious little witch.” he said, peppering kisses to her skin between words.
“For what—“ began Hermione, her head tilted back to allow him better access and her words cut off with a small moan.
“Taking on my father like that.” Draco replied seriously, his lips trailing down the column of her throat, his tongue dipping into the small hollow by her collar bones.
“Oh,” He felt Hermione give a small shrug and wave that away as if it were nothing. “Of course he was going to show up and try to get a rise out of us. Honestly, so childish. I considered what were his most likely lines of argument and decided to head them off at the pass as it were.”
“It was very hot seeing you standing up for me. For yourself. For us,” he rumbled, his hands wandering over the front of her dress, fingers dancing over the exposed skin at the swell of her chest before sweeping his thumbs over her hardening nipples.
“Was it now?” she murmured, her hands scratching through his hair, brushing a sweet kiss to his lips.
“Very.” he said, his voice deepening like it always did when he fancied a romp.
“Draco, behave yourself!” Hermione said, as she wriggled away from him and back to the desk.
“No, I don’t want to,’ Draco replied, caging her in with his arms and pressing a kiss to Hermione’s neck before biting down on the delicate skin.
“Your parents might be anywhere!”
“They aren’t anywhere near here…”
Hermione turned around, pinned him with a look, and folded her arms. “I am not shagging you in this library!”
Draco thought that was a ridiculous statement to make, leaned down and all but purred in her ear. “Are you sure, baby? It would be awfully good fun…”
Hermione pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “Okay, yes it would, but that is not the point!”
Draco inwardly celebrated winning, eyeing that the desk in front of him would be ideal.
“But not right now, and not while your parents are about!”
Draco inwardly stopped celebrating and groaned theatrically, realising he wasn’t going to get her to budge. “Fine, fine.” He gave Hermione a serious look. “But perhaps another time?”
Hermione looked out at the library in contemplation, blushed and then nodded. “Provided nobody else is on the premises!”
Draco inwardly started celebrating again, his mind turning over all the ways he might relocate his parents to another spot on the manor grounds.
Hermione eyed him like she knew exactly what his horny little mind was plotting but she said nothing more as she stretched.
With no amorous activities to be had, Draco and Hermione spent another hour or so perusing the books until he suggested that it was time to go. Hermione protested at being forced to leave a library, as Draco knew she would, but he promised her she could return anytime.
They made their way back through the manor (Draco took a detour so that Hermione didn’t see the carved elephant ivory ornaments in one particular hallway) and they found his mother wandering about in the walled garden.
After another round of thanks and promises to do it again at some point, Draco and Hermione arrived back at Hogwarts.
Draco was exhausted from all the chaos of the afternoon and he flopped down face first on their bed before rolling to his side, seeing Hermione beaming over at him.
“I think that went rather well, don’t you?”