Post by Lissandra Sylvania on Apr 6, 2009 19:15:35 GMT 3
Tore üllatus oli, uus osa oli üleval 
Oi, kuidas ma Roni ei seedi siin enam ja mis temaga juhtub on paras talle XD
Aga lugege ise
Chapter 22 : Demeaning Thoughts
By the time Hermione’s eyes opened the next morning, Draco had left the master bedroom. She looked around for a few seconds, confused but the door opened suddenly and Pansy came in, distracting her.
“Good morning,” she said. “Feeling any better?”
“Much better,” Hermione replied, surprised by the ease at which her answer appeared on her lips. “Where’s Draco?”
“Everyone except Lestrange is downstairs right now. He’s still asleep.”
“Bugger,” Hermione cursed, realizing how late she was and got up. She looked around for pair of decent looking pants and Pansy handed her another one of her expensive shirts which Hermione took without commenting on that fact that purple always made her look like a lot shorter than she liked.
She ran into the bathroom and quickly got dressed, running some tap water onto her face to remove the salt stains on her cheeks.
“Can I ask you something?” Pansy said, as Hermione came back out and began to run her fingers through her hair in front of a mirror.
“Yeah.”
“What… what exactly happened last night, between you and Draco?”
Hermione looked at her fatigued visage in the mirror and then back at Pansy. “Truth be told, I don’t know,” she sighed.
“You don’t remember?”
“No, no, I remember what happened but I don’t quite understand what it was. Why? Did he say something?”
Pansy shook her head. “He won’t say a word but I haven’t really had the chance to talk to him.”
“He told me about Adria,” Hermione confessed.
Pansy’s reaction was extremely unexpected as she broke out into a relieved smile. “Finally!” she exclaimed and then, at the sight of Hermione’s confused expression, composed herself. “I mean, it’s terrible what happened to her but I’m so glad that he finally told you! And I’m guessing you made the Fiendfyre connection?”
“I did but there’s still the link to be drawn between the Fiendfyre and her becoming a ghost… something must have happened to her.”
“Well think about it later. We need to go down first for breakfast and then we’re going into the village to buy me a dress.”
Hermione cocked her eyebrow. “Wait, I thought you had a whole bunch of dresses.”
“You can never have too many dresses,” she explained. “Besides, Eli needs to search the Manor for Adria and we can’t really do that with Lestrange and Cassius in the house.”
Hermione reached for her hair clip, tying up the loose strands that hung messily over her face before turning towards the door. In a few seconds, she’d be out and everything she said would be heard.
“I don’t understand something,” she confessed.
“What?” Pansy asked.
“Why didn’t Draco want to tell me this story? Adria’s story?”
Pansy’s face contracted and her forehead wrinkled. Her mouth opened slightly. “He didn’t tell you?”
Hermione shook her head. “There’s more?” She was beginning to feel irritated. What was the point of telling her the story if he didn’t tell her all of it?
“Hermione, Draco was the one who was supposed to keep watch on the Manor that evening while his parents had left for the Ministry. Lestrange came and no one was there – Draco was the one who left Adria alone… she died because he left...”
Hermione’s jaw fell to the floor and for a few seconds, she forgot to breathe. She now understood why he never told her and why he had waited so long before finally choosing to divulge his secret. This is what made his death seem justifiable – he thought he was the guilty one. Her whole stay in the Manor was thrust into a new perspective –he was a martyr and just like she did with her parents, he blamed Adria’s death on himself.
“It was clearly not his fault. He’s been all but physically torturing himself ever since he came back that evening and found her body in the dungeons. Eli was devastated too but he just didn’t show it – you know how he is. Draco, though, became completely detached and writhed with guilt. He went back to Belize immediately after they buried Adria’s body in Beech Hill, that’s the village nearby on the other side of the forest and didn’t return until after his parents’ trial.”
Pansy continued to say something else but the sense of remorse ridden in Hermione’s thoughts blocked out her voice. She had accused Draco of so many things in the past few weeks and it turned out that he was fighting for exactly what she was – revenge.
Pansy put her hand against Hermione’s arm and smiled sadly. “Don’t worry about it,” she said softly.
“I’ve… I’ve been so awful to him.”
“He doesn’t like to be pitied,” Pansy said. “If anything, you kept him on his toes. Let’s go down, come on.”
Hermione nodded; glancing at herself one last time in the mirror, she made sure she looked as good as Lady Malfoy should.
---
Weaving down the many corridors and marble staircases, Hermione and Pansy arrived at the dining hall while Draco and Cassius were getting up from their seats.
“Good morning,” Cassius greeted them amicably.
“Hello,” Hermione replied, smiling and trying to sound cold. She looked over at Draco and their eyes met for a brief second before Pansy ushered her over.
“Let’s eat, shall we?” Pansy asked.
“Oh we just finished eating,” Cassius commented. He seemed genuinely upset at this lack of chivalry he had just displayed. “I assumed you and Hermia had already finished.”
“No, no that’s quite alright,” Pansy replied. “I wasn’t that hungry to begin with. Let’s just get going to Beech Hill.”
“Well, if you’re alright with it,” he said, turning to Hermione.
“I’m fine,” she replied, still keeping up her smile. “Isn’t Le- isn’t your uncle coming, Draco?”
Malfoy sharply reacted to her question and redirected it at Cassius. “I’m not quite sure, is he?”
“I think we should let him catch some sleep,” Cassius shrugged. “He’ll get up in a few minutes and he wanted to head out with Hector and Marcus for something.”
Hermione caught the disdain in Cassius’ voice before he held out his to her and smiled. “Shall we, Lady Malfoy?”
Hermione was aghast as she stared at his hand. What was she supposed to do? Take it? Was it a trick question to see if she’d take Draco’s hand instead? Pansy nodded her head subtly from behind Cassius and then took Draco’s arm into her own, indicating that it was alright for her to take Cassius’.
Right, Hermione thought to herself. I’d forgotten they were all polygamists.
She slipped her arm carefully around Cassius’ elbow and didn’t hesitate to note the sharp bulge of muscle that protruded from within. Draco noted her reaction with a small sigh and then turned towards the exit, walking with Pansy.
---
“So you studied at Hogwarts?” Cassius asked.
The pair of them was walking on the outskirts of Malfoy Manor, just near the forest. The day was extremely bright albeit slightly chilly but that didn’t seem to bother Hermione. The only thing that was irritating her was the extremely fast pace at which Draco and Pansy seemed to have moved forward at, leaving her and Cassius out of their earshot.
Hermione didn’t really expect to field questions but given that she hadn’t prepared herself for any lies, the truth seemed to be the only way to go. “Mhm,” she said. “I took my N.E.W.Ts in defence against the dark arts, potions, herbology, charms, transfiguration, muggle studies and ancient runes.”
Cassius seemed fascinated. “That’s impressive,” he agreed. “I never did get the chance to take muggle studies though.”
“So you took your N.E.W.Ts in all those subjects as well?” She had never met anyone as academically ambitious as she was.
“Well, Durmstrang doesn’t really have that test but I studied them all in my seventh year.
I hated Potions though,” he laughed. “I was the worst kid there even though that bloke, Krum couldn’t tell a ladybug from a dung beetle. But he was the prized Quidditch player, so everyone let him slip by.”
Hermione let a laugh slip out of her mouth. “You knew Viktor Krum?”
“Sort of – he was in the same year as me even though he was older. He ended up failing his Charms exam so horribly that even his thousands of galleons couldn’t make the teachers turn a blind eye. Quite an idiot, actually.”
“He’s not that bad.”
“You knew him too?”
Hermione blushed. This did, however, give her a good opportunity to throw a famous name around to boost her own credibility. “I dated him for a few months. He wasn’t so bad.”
Cassius was genuinely surprised. “That’s remarkable,” he admitted and then a wide smile curved onto his lips. “Imagine if I had been friends with him, then you and I could have met a long time ago.”
“Hermia!”
Hermione and Cassius both looked up and saw Draco walking towards them, slightly red in the face but she felt it had nothing to do with the cold. “Can you come with me? I really want to show you something.”
“I was talking to Cassius… sweetheart,” she replied tersely.
“Well, Pansy can keep him company,” he replied roughly as he pulled her arm out of Cassius’. He grabbed her hand and pulled her forward as she turned back and smiled apologetically to Cassius. She saw Pansy walking back towards him and when he took her arm and started to talk, she turned back to Draco.
“What on earth was that?” she asked.
“You’re not supposed to consort with the enemy.”
“I was just trying to act like Pansy does,” she defended herself.
“You are married,” he shot back. “You’re not supposed to be flirting with anyone but me.”
Despite the many comebacks that shot into her head, Hermione couldn’t bring herself to retort. Her perception of Draco had change so much since her talk with Pansy and she realized, every time she spoke to him, that they were both so much more alike than either of them knew.
“Fine,” she replied.
They arrived past a small heap of shrubbery before stepping into a wide clearing. Beech Hill was a tiny little village with stores and huts surrounding a large silver fountain in the middle of the town. From candy stores to a used wand dealership, the stores were brimming with wizards and witches, all carrying shopping bags.
As they walked around, Hermione’s slow pace allowed Cassius and Pansy to catch up with them pretty quickly. “Let’s find me a dress,” Pansy suggested brightly.
Hermione was in no mood to go shopping right now and judging by Draco’s fatigued face, neither was he. “We’ll meet you and Cassius back here in an hour or so,” she suggested.
“Agreed,” Pansy replied quickly. She was eager to get Cassius away from Draco as soon as possible.
Shooting both of them a quick smile, she grabbed Cassius’ hand and led him towards one of the stores. Draco watched them walk away before ushering Hermione to a small patch of grass under a thick stone bench.
“Let’s sit.”
Given the size of the bench, Hermione had to sit awkwardly closer to Malfoy than she was used to but she knew that it would be a convincing scene if Cassius or Lestrange came by. She wondered if Draco would bring up last night’s discussion at all – they had both been at a very vulnerable emotional stage and perhaps, he regretted his decision to tell her about Adria.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
“That’s good,” he said. “Do you have everything you need for tonight? Since we’re here, you can buy yourself anything else you want…”
“Pansy said she has a dress for me, so whatever…”
Draco looked at her with a confused expression. “You don’t like Pansy’s dress?”
“It’s purple,” she muttered, feeling extremely stupid and probably sounding the same way. “It’s…”
She wasn’t sure if Draco would laugh at her or think she was completely mental to be worrying about something as stupid as colour.
“It makes me look a lot shorter than I am,” she said. “And slightly fatter. And Pansy’s forcing me to wear it! You can’t force people to wear purple.”
A smile broke out on Draco’s face and within a second, he was laughing. “That’s what you’re worried about?” he said, amidst fits of hysteria.
“Well thank you for making me feel self-conscious,” she mumbled, embarrassed and red.
“Oh come on,” he said, slowing down now. “The great Hermione Granger is worried about looking inadequate - you have to admit that you sound ridiculous.”
“Well, I’m your wife… you’re supposed to humour me and tell me that I look beautiful no matter what, idiot.”
Draco snorted. “Even I can’t lie like that.”
“You’re impossible.”
“No I’m not,” he said, the laughter dying down and being replaced by a deep sadness. “I just got another dose of that Fiendfyre antidote so I’m in a better mood.”
“Oh.”
Draco opened his mouth to say something before his eyes darted over to something behind Hermione and his face stiffened. “Come closer,” he commanded her. “Stroke my hair.”
“Excuse me?”
“Just do it,” he said. “Someone’s looking at us.”
Hermione placed her hand against Draco’s temple and began to gently run her fingers through his soft blonde hair. She had an uncontrollable urge to turn around and see this particular stranger but her mind kept shooting her down. Draco leaned in closer to her and tilted his head slightly so that she could feel his peppermint breathe against her cheeks.
“Just keep smiling,” he said, plastering a smile onto his own face. “I can’t quite make out his face.”
She couldn’t help but notice the extreme closeness between her and Draco. She moved her hand from his hair and lowered it to his cheekbone, stroking it gently. He lost his focus for a second and his eyes fell away from the target and into Hermione’s and without warning, he leaned in closer, ending up merely an inch away from her face. She saw his grey eyes, felt his gentle breath against her cheek and it was racing as fast as her heart.
Footsteps were heard up ahead and Hermione felt Draco being pulled off of her. Her mind was still a little dizzy from the sharp electricity and so she didn’t quite register the mysterious figure grabbing Malfoy by the collar.
“GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY GIRLFRIEND!” Ron yelled, before tightening his fist and punching Malfoy straight in the nose.
---
“Ron!” Hermione cried and shot up instantly, pushing him slightly farther so that he wouldn’t break Draco into two pieces.
“What the HELL was that?!” Ron asked, completely red in the face.
Hermione turned around to see Draco lying on the ground with blood sprouting from his nose and upper lip. He cringed as the aftermath of the punch still shocked his nerves. “Bloody hell, Weasley!”
“Ron, why on earth did you punch him?!”
“HE WAS ABOUT TO KISS YOU! He’s lucky I didn’t snap him in half!”
Hermione bent down at Draco’s side and placed her hand against his bleeding nose. “Draco, can you hear me?”
“Unless you sound like an exceptionally loud ringing bell, not very clearly,” he muttered, clasping his nose as the blood dripped down his chin. He looked up at Ron. “Weasley, I swear when I get up, I’m going to break of your arm and beat you to death with it.”
“Ron, what’re you even doing here?!” Hermione asked, grabbing her wand and trying to remember the spell to heal broken bones.
“I was trying to figure out a way to get to Malfoy Manor!” he grunted. “Last time, that old bloke came and got me from the station – I don’t know how on earth I’m supposed to get there by myself!”
“No, I mean… why on earth are you here?”
“Are you kidding me?” he cried. “You left the Burrow to come here by yourself and take on some murderous killer and his stupid blonde puppet! I wasn’t going to leave you alone! But luckily I came here to find you almost kissing this useless excuse for a human being.”
“Weasley, shut up!” Draco bellowed, getting up on knees and slowly hoisting himself to his feet. A few pedestrians turned to stare at the odd trio but Ron’s scowl and Hermione’s hysteria kept them from wandering any closer.
“Ron, just calm down for now… we can’t attract any attention,” Hermione pleaded.
“Hermione-”
“Just listen to me, Ron!”
“No!”
“Weasley,” Draco said through gritted teeth. “Possibly the most dangerous death eater is right here in this very bloody village, thinking that your girlfriend is my wife. If you don’t bloody shut up and calm down, you’re going to get all of us killed.”
Hermione heard Draco’s words – the most dangerous – and she was sure he was talking about Cassius. But Cassius didn’t seem all that bad and then she remembered that Pansy hadn’t really finished telling her his story.
“Go to hell, Malfoy!”
“Ron, calm down and listen to him.”
“I won’t bloody well do anything of the sort. You and I are going home right now.”
“No!”
“Weasley, leave her alone.”
“She’s my girlfriend!”
“That doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do!”
“Weasley, bloody hell… you’re making her cry.”
“Shove off, Malfoy, this is none of your business!”
“Ron, stop fighting for Merlin’s sake!”
“Hermione, just come with me!”
“No!”
“Why the hell not? What’s gotten into you?”
“You can’t order me around!”
“You’re my girlfriend!”
“Well I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore!”
Draco’s jaw fell open while Ron, red, looked at Hermione as tears ran down her face. “I’m sorry,” she said weakly.
His shattered gaze remained fixed on Hermione’s gentle features and he put his hands on her face. At first she closed her eyes to his soft touch but she collected herself and moved away. “I’m really sorry.”
“You’re just upset,” Ron said frantically. “It’s alright.”
“Ron, please don’t make this harder than it already is,” she replied.
“You can’t break up with me…”
Draco hadn’t seized the opportunity to be tactful and slowly withdraw from the situation. He awkwardly stood a few feet away from the torn couple and didn’t hesitate to listen in on the conversation with surprise but also an unexplained feeling of guilt.
“I know it’s really hard to see but this is the right thing for us.”
Ron didn’t have a chance to respond as two figures came walking forward from behind one of the stores. Pansy was carrying two large white bags while Cassius smoothly trailed behind with another three bags in his hand. Draco immediately turned red and faced Hermione’s bloodshot eyes with fear.
To her own surprise, an unexpected trigger acted in Hermione’s head and she threw herself into Ron’s arms, embracing him.
“I can’t believe you came all the way from Belgium to surprise me!” she cried, breathing onto Ron’s neck.
He was confused enough and opened his mouth to retort but a sharp whisper from Hermione stopped him: “Just please don’t talk,” she pleaded.
“What on earth is going on?” Pansy said, her face losing its entire colour.
“Oh Pansy, I don’t think you’ve met my friend from Belgium,” Hermione exclaimed happily. “This is Ronald.”
Pansy gaped at Hermione for a second and then past her at Draco’s stunned face. “A pleasure,” she said after a while, smiling shortly at Ron who was all the more perplexed.
“Ronald, this is my friend from Hogwarts, Pansy Parkinson and this is Cassius Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange’s son,” she added trying to sound extremely nonchalant.
Ron’s eyes widened to enormous proportions. “WHAT?!”
“Ronald, please don’t be silly,” she said, laughing slightly. “I told you Draco and I had guests staying at the Manor.”
“I wasn’t aware of anyone else visiting,” Cassius remarked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing into thin slits.
“Ronald’s a friend of Hermia’s older brother,” Draco explained. “I was rather under the impression that he was still in Belgium in hiding but I suppose with the Ministry dilly-dallying, getting into London’s a breeze.”
“Ah, so is he staying with us?” Cassius asked as the winter wind blew gently.
“I’d hope so,” Hermione said icily. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen him.”
Ron was speechless, staring madly at both Hermione and Draco as she put her arm under his and tugged it gently. “Come along, Ronald. You must be starving.”
“I agree,” Draco said smoothly, grabbing Hermione’s hand gently and escorting her forward.
They began to walk towards the forest, away from the tiny little village. Pansy, after staring at Ron awkwardly for a few seconds, accepted Cassius’ arm and strode forward. Though Hermione didn’t turn back, she could hear Ron’s large boots clunk against the ground as he followed.
“You’re getting better,” Draco whispered slowly, a grin forming on his face.
Hermione looked at him and tried to respond with equal happiness. As the ground began to get softer as they treaded towards the Manor, she nodded unenthusiastically. “Yeah.”
---
By the time that Cassius excused himself to go get ready for the ball and Lestrange returned back from his “trip” with bloody knuckles and a perverse smile, Hermione had managed to sneak Ron into the master bedroom and calm him down before explaining everything. And as the evening hue began to fill the sky, she finally took a deep breath after finishing her story without hesitating to wonder where Draco and Pansy might have gotten to.
“Lestrange couldn’t have had a son…” Ron said, looking into the distance. Hermione noticed that his voice had become much lower and he refused, at all costs, to make eye contact.
“He does,” she said. “I had no idea either. So, now you know what’s going on.” A twinge of guilt hit her when she internally apologized for the lie. She hadn’t told Ron everything that had happened including Draco’s involvement with Adria’s death, the Edacium curse and her witnessing of Bartholomew’s death.
“Right.”
“Oh for Merlin’s sake, Ron, please talk to me,” she pleaded, throwing her hands in the air.
“I don’t need to talk to you,” he replied. “I just want to leave.”
Anger began to boil inside Hermione as she glowered. “Well, you can’t,” she said coldly. “You got yourself into this mess and now, you’re going to have to wait till it all clears up.”
“And why the hell not?”
“Lestrange now thinks you’re some stupid death eater friend of ours,” she explained, getting up. “And if you leave suddenly, it’s going to look very suspicious. If you’d j-”
Hermione stopped talking as the door creaked open and Draco and Pansy came inside, both looking tired. Eli followed in at the end and shut the door gently before turning to speak.
“Mr. Weasley,” he said courteously.
Ron just nodded shortly and started speaking to Malfoy. “I want to leave.”
“Well you can’t,” he retorted. “You’re going to have to stay for the gathering tonight and then can leave immediately tomorrow morning.”
Hermione noticed the reddish hue surrounding Draco’s nose; she had healed the bone but the smears of blood were still slightly evident. Pansy was silent though the worry lines were beginning to set into her forehead as she creased them constantly out of concern.
“I’m not following your orders,” Ron spat angrily. “You’ve cost me enough for a lifetime.”
“Ron! Shut up!” Hermione burst. “HE did absolutely nothing – this has been a long time coming!”
“We’re very short on time,” Eli chimed in. “This has to wait.”
“Eli’s right,” Pansy agreed. “Please.”
“Mr. Weasley, I’ll arrange for some dress robes for you tonight.”
Ron glowered silently, shooting death glances mainly at Draco from where he sat. Hermione noticed that his lips were curled up, indicating a pensive undertone. She hoped he would stop arguing and cooperate, if only just for tonight.
“And I get to leave tomorrow?” he asked Eli.
“I will have a carriage escort you personally,” Eli said, nodding.
Ron looked up at Hermione with a sick look in his face, glaring. He then turned back to Eli and stood up. “Fine.”
Then, without another look at Malfoy or Hermione, he stormed into one of the sub-rooms in the huge master bedroom.
---
Cassius saw his father lying sprawled on an armchair with the Daily Prophet in his hands as he entered his room. The room’s dark green walls were all centered by a ceiling that extended into the darkness above. In one corner of the room, two huge velvet arm chairs lay on a round Persian rug, each with silver embroidery of the letter ‘M’. Most of the room, however, was dominated by a huge canopy bed adorned with black sheets and silver cushions over a dark wood bed frame.
“You’re back,” Lestrange said, not bothering to put down his paper.
“I am.”
“And how was the shopping?” he asked.
Cassius paused and sat himself down onto the second silver arm chair. “Quite pleasant,” he replied flatly.
“Did you manage to talk with Lady Malfoy?”
Cassius smiled as his father probed him with his black eyes. His father had sent him on a pitifully menial mission to judge the credibility of Lady Malfoy. He had been suspicious since day one of this bushy haired, uncoordinated, seemingly bold woman; a description such as that was very much against what anyone would have imagined Lady Malfoy would be.
“She’s nothing special,” Cassius said, dismissing his father’s doubts, “just a regular airhead, perfect for Malfoy.”
He smiled as the lie settled into Lestrange’s mind calmly. Truth be known, she was very bold and extremely intelligent – much to his own surprise. He, like any other, had always thought Lucius would fix Draco up with some stupid, extremely attractive woman who would sit idly by his side as he ruled over the Malfoy fortune. But this clearly wasn’t the case – Hermia Devereux was not the kind of obviously pretty woman that the Malfoys chose as wives. Her hair was extremely tangled, never combed properly. She wore outfits that were clearly not made for her and most importantly of all, she had a mind of her own.
“Perhaps you should start getting ready,” Cassius suggested.
“I’ll be up in a few minutes,” he responded lazily. “By the way, if you see Hector… he should have a package for me.”
“Right.”
Cassius got up, nodded shortly and then exited. The pale hallway was familiar to him from his younger days and so he could absentmindedly navigate his way to his own room.
He noted that most of his generation despised, or at least strayed away from, their parents. Draco didn’t speak of his parents though he knew that they were tucked away safely in Azkaban thanks to his father. Pansy broke off all ties with her father when he was caught trying to torture a muggle and even he despised Lestrange who cared only for power and nothing else.
“Did you need something?”
Cassius looked up and smiled as Draco walked up to him from ahead with a concerned expression on his face.
“I guess I must’ve missed my room,” Cassius admitted. “Sorry.”
“Good thing I stopped you or you’d have headed straight to the dungeons.”
“Good thing you did.”
Draco shrugged coldly. “You should get ready though.”
“As should you; you are the host after all, we can’t have you missing out on all the fun.”
Draco nodded. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
---
With Ron tucked away safely in one of the sub-rooms, Pansy getting ready in her own room and Draco taking a walk somewhere in the Manor, Hermione finally got a chance to calm down and collect her thoughts. But instead of a rational sorting through of her many ideas, she found herself spilling tears down her cheeks. She sat herself on the ground against the bed and felt the warm salty substance drip against her skin.
She didn’t really understand why she was crying though. Was the fact that she had just broken up with her boyfriend of over three years and her best friend for over ten years? Was it because she had just come within an inch of kissing Draco Malfoy and it was possibly the most electrifying contact she had ever shared with anyone? Or was it because the man who had killed her parents was living in the same house as she was?
“You’re crying,” Eli said sombrely. Hermione raised her head slightly off her knees and through her misty vision saw the aged man standing in front of her.
“You’re not going to try to stop me, are you?” she asked in a low voice.
Eli smiled sorrowfully and shook his head. “Tears are often necessary to help up clear out our vision. It helps many see better, I find.”
“I hate crying,” she said. “I feel so weak.”
Eli adjusted the back of his robes and sat down beside Hermione on the floor. “Emotions are a sign of strength, not weakness. So tell me, what is it that floods you with so much emotion?”
“A lot of things,” she said exasperatedly. “I have absolutely no one left, Eli. My friends are absorbed in their own lives; Ron probably never wants to see me again…”
“And what about Master Malfoy?”
Hermione laughed weakly. “He doesn’t want me, he needs me.”
Eli turned his neck and put his white, pale hands on Hermione’s. “Ms. Granger, you are an incredibly intelligent and beautiful woman and you have your entire life ahead of you. Just like the huge garden in the courtyard outside, it takes the wilting of one small rose for us to notice the beauty of the whole edifice. Sometimes, instead of trying to hold onto something, we need to let it go.”
“I’ve been with Ron for so long…”
“Then apologize to him.”
“But I just… I just don’t feel the same way about him. I can’t go back to him, not as his girlfriend.”
“So now you will learn what it’s like to be without him and it will hurt and you’ll probably cry some more but I promise you, one morning you’ll wake up and you will realize that even though you may not have your secure life, you have friends that care for you and an entire world brimming with possibilities for you to explore. And then, you’ll feel happy again.”
“And what if that never happens?”
Eli’s expression softened. “It will, you have to make sure of it. Ms. Granger, life can either be changed or accepted. If it cannot be accepted, it must be changed and if it cannot be changed, then it must be accepted.”
“No one wants to change, Eli.”
Eli laughed gently and got up off the floor, adjusting his robes carefully. “You’d be surprised to see how much people yearn for change – how even the smallest of actions are indicative of a magnanimous sentiment.”
Reaching into his pockets, he produced a pale blue handkerchief and handed it to Hermione. “You should get ready,” he suggested. “I’d better head down, the guests are arriving.”
“Thank you, Eli.”
Hermione got off the ground and smiled as Eli left the room with a pop. He was always such a cryptic persona. She walked over to the window and looked down at the front courtyard where carriages were lining up as some of England’s richest and cruellest wizards descended into Malfoy Manor. Hermione heard the door open behind her and from the clanking of the heels, she could tell that it was Pansy.
“Feeling nervous?” Pansy asked.
“A little,” she admitted.
Hermione faced Pansy and felt a twinge of jealousy as the attractive brunette looked even prettier than normal in her ensemble. She was wearing a fitted dark blue dress that reached the tip of her toes and from the top, wove itself around her neck, extenuated by large antique gold earrings. Her hair was tied in an up do but the few tresses that did manage to escape were curled and fell on the side of her face deliberately.
Hermione saw her own messy reflection in the large mirror against the wall and grunted. “I hate you.”
Pansy smiled. “Thank you.”
“No but seriously, how is it that I always manage to look like a train wreck?”
“Hermione, stop being silly and get ready. I’ve got your dress here and I’ll send a house elf up with the jewellery.”
“Fine, there’s no use avoiding it anymore – purple and I need to try and get along.”
She held up a life-sized package and handed it to Hermione, topping it off with a bottle of Madam Malga’s hair style cream, essence of lavender and a teeth whitening charm. She also thrust a huge jar of Spfelli’s Curling Cure on top before wishing Hermione luck and leaving to go check up on Ron.
Hermione unzipped the huge package and allowed herself a momentary breath before taking out the dress. It wasn’t the overload of purple that she was expecting. Instead, a handful of soft satin hit her hands before Hermione realized that her dress was in fact a burgundy satin dress with gold buttons that crimped at the waist and had delicate beaded embroidery on its thin sleeves. Attached at the neckline was a tiny note which, given her emotional state, put a huge smile on her face.
No one should be forced to wear purple .
Oi, kuidas ma Roni ei seedi siin enam ja mis temaga juhtub on paras talle XD
Aga lugege ise
Chapter 22 : Demeaning Thoughts
By the time Hermione’s eyes opened the next morning, Draco had left the master bedroom. She looked around for a few seconds, confused but the door opened suddenly and Pansy came in, distracting her.
“Good morning,” she said. “Feeling any better?”
“Much better,” Hermione replied, surprised by the ease at which her answer appeared on her lips. “Where’s Draco?”
“Everyone except Lestrange is downstairs right now. He’s still asleep.”
“Bugger,” Hermione cursed, realizing how late she was and got up. She looked around for pair of decent looking pants and Pansy handed her another one of her expensive shirts which Hermione took without commenting on that fact that purple always made her look like a lot shorter than she liked.
She ran into the bathroom and quickly got dressed, running some tap water onto her face to remove the salt stains on her cheeks.
“Can I ask you something?” Pansy said, as Hermione came back out and began to run her fingers through her hair in front of a mirror.
“Yeah.”
“What… what exactly happened last night, between you and Draco?”
Hermione looked at her fatigued visage in the mirror and then back at Pansy. “Truth be told, I don’t know,” she sighed.
“You don’t remember?”
“No, no, I remember what happened but I don’t quite understand what it was. Why? Did he say something?”
Pansy shook her head. “He won’t say a word but I haven’t really had the chance to talk to him.”
“He told me about Adria,” Hermione confessed.
Pansy’s reaction was extremely unexpected as she broke out into a relieved smile. “Finally!” she exclaimed and then, at the sight of Hermione’s confused expression, composed herself. “I mean, it’s terrible what happened to her but I’m so glad that he finally told you! And I’m guessing you made the Fiendfyre connection?”
“I did but there’s still the link to be drawn between the Fiendfyre and her becoming a ghost… something must have happened to her.”
“Well think about it later. We need to go down first for breakfast and then we’re going into the village to buy me a dress.”
Hermione cocked her eyebrow. “Wait, I thought you had a whole bunch of dresses.”
“You can never have too many dresses,” she explained. “Besides, Eli needs to search the Manor for Adria and we can’t really do that with Lestrange and Cassius in the house.”
Hermione reached for her hair clip, tying up the loose strands that hung messily over her face before turning towards the door. In a few seconds, she’d be out and everything she said would be heard.
“I don’t understand something,” she confessed.
“What?” Pansy asked.
“Why didn’t Draco want to tell me this story? Adria’s story?”
Pansy’s face contracted and her forehead wrinkled. Her mouth opened slightly. “He didn’t tell you?”
Hermione shook her head. “There’s more?” She was beginning to feel irritated. What was the point of telling her the story if he didn’t tell her all of it?
“Hermione, Draco was the one who was supposed to keep watch on the Manor that evening while his parents had left for the Ministry. Lestrange came and no one was there – Draco was the one who left Adria alone… she died because he left...”
Hermione’s jaw fell to the floor and for a few seconds, she forgot to breathe. She now understood why he never told her and why he had waited so long before finally choosing to divulge his secret. This is what made his death seem justifiable – he thought he was the guilty one. Her whole stay in the Manor was thrust into a new perspective –he was a martyr and just like she did with her parents, he blamed Adria’s death on himself.
“It was clearly not his fault. He’s been all but physically torturing himself ever since he came back that evening and found her body in the dungeons. Eli was devastated too but he just didn’t show it – you know how he is. Draco, though, became completely detached and writhed with guilt. He went back to Belize immediately after they buried Adria’s body in Beech Hill, that’s the village nearby on the other side of the forest and didn’t return until after his parents’ trial.”
Pansy continued to say something else but the sense of remorse ridden in Hermione’s thoughts blocked out her voice. She had accused Draco of so many things in the past few weeks and it turned out that he was fighting for exactly what she was – revenge.
Pansy put her hand against Hermione’s arm and smiled sadly. “Don’t worry about it,” she said softly.
“I’ve… I’ve been so awful to him.”
“He doesn’t like to be pitied,” Pansy said. “If anything, you kept him on his toes. Let’s go down, come on.”
Hermione nodded; glancing at herself one last time in the mirror, she made sure she looked as good as Lady Malfoy should.
---
Weaving down the many corridors and marble staircases, Hermione and Pansy arrived at the dining hall while Draco and Cassius were getting up from their seats.
“Good morning,” Cassius greeted them amicably.
“Hello,” Hermione replied, smiling and trying to sound cold. She looked over at Draco and their eyes met for a brief second before Pansy ushered her over.
“Let’s eat, shall we?” Pansy asked.
“Oh we just finished eating,” Cassius commented. He seemed genuinely upset at this lack of chivalry he had just displayed. “I assumed you and Hermia had already finished.”
“No, no that’s quite alright,” Pansy replied. “I wasn’t that hungry to begin with. Let’s just get going to Beech Hill.”
“Well, if you’re alright with it,” he said, turning to Hermione.
“I’m fine,” she replied, still keeping up her smile. “Isn’t Le- isn’t your uncle coming, Draco?”
Malfoy sharply reacted to her question and redirected it at Cassius. “I’m not quite sure, is he?”
“I think we should let him catch some sleep,” Cassius shrugged. “He’ll get up in a few minutes and he wanted to head out with Hector and Marcus for something.”
Hermione caught the disdain in Cassius’ voice before he held out his to her and smiled. “Shall we, Lady Malfoy?”
Hermione was aghast as she stared at his hand. What was she supposed to do? Take it? Was it a trick question to see if she’d take Draco’s hand instead? Pansy nodded her head subtly from behind Cassius and then took Draco’s arm into her own, indicating that it was alright for her to take Cassius’.
Right, Hermione thought to herself. I’d forgotten they were all polygamists.
She slipped her arm carefully around Cassius’ elbow and didn’t hesitate to note the sharp bulge of muscle that protruded from within. Draco noted her reaction with a small sigh and then turned towards the exit, walking with Pansy.
---
“So you studied at Hogwarts?” Cassius asked.
The pair of them was walking on the outskirts of Malfoy Manor, just near the forest. The day was extremely bright albeit slightly chilly but that didn’t seem to bother Hermione. The only thing that was irritating her was the extremely fast pace at which Draco and Pansy seemed to have moved forward at, leaving her and Cassius out of their earshot.
Hermione didn’t really expect to field questions but given that she hadn’t prepared herself for any lies, the truth seemed to be the only way to go. “Mhm,” she said. “I took my N.E.W.Ts in defence against the dark arts, potions, herbology, charms, transfiguration, muggle studies and ancient runes.”
Cassius seemed fascinated. “That’s impressive,” he agreed. “I never did get the chance to take muggle studies though.”
“So you took your N.E.W.Ts in all those subjects as well?” She had never met anyone as academically ambitious as she was.
“Well, Durmstrang doesn’t really have that test but I studied them all in my seventh year.
I hated Potions though,” he laughed. “I was the worst kid there even though that bloke, Krum couldn’t tell a ladybug from a dung beetle. But he was the prized Quidditch player, so everyone let him slip by.”
Hermione let a laugh slip out of her mouth. “You knew Viktor Krum?”
“Sort of – he was in the same year as me even though he was older. He ended up failing his Charms exam so horribly that even his thousands of galleons couldn’t make the teachers turn a blind eye. Quite an idiot, actually.”
“He’s not that bad.”
“You knew him too?”
Hermione blushed. This did, however, give her a good opportunity to throw a famous name around to boost her own credibility. “I dated him for a few months. He wasn’t so bad.”
Cassius was genuinely surprised. “That’s remarkable,” he admitted and then a wide smile curved onto his lips. “Imagine if I had been friends with him, then you and I could have met a long time ago.”
“Hermia!”
Hermione and Cassius both looked up and saw Draco walking towards them, slightly red in the face but she felt it had nothing to do with the cold. “Can you come with me? I really want to show you something.”
“I was talking to Cassius… sweetheart,” she replied tersely.
“Well, Pansy can keep him company,” he replied roughly as he pulled her arm out of Cassius’. He grabbed her hand and pulled her forward as she turned back and smiled apologetically to Cassius. She saw Pansy walking back towards him and when he took her arm and started to talk, she turned back to Draco.
“What on earth was that?” she asked.
“You’re not supposed to consort with the enemy.”
“I was just trying to act like Pansy does,” she defended herself.
“You are married,” he shot back. “You’re not supposed to be flirting with anyone but me.”
Despite the many comebacks that shot into her head, Hermione couldn’t bring herself to retort. Her perception of Draco had change so much since her talk with Pansy and she realized, every time she spoke to him, that they were both so much more alike than either of them knew.
“Fine,” she replied.
They arrived past a small heap of shrubbery before stepping into a wide clearing. Beech Hill was a tiny little village with stores and huts surrounding a large silver fountain in the middle of the town. From candy stores to a used wand dealership, the stores were brimming with wizards and witches, all carrying shopping bags.
As they walked around, Hermione’s slow pace allowed Cassius and Pansy to catch up with them pretty quickly. “Let’s find me a dress,” Pansy suggested brightly.
Hermione was in no mood to go shopping right now and judging by Draco’s fatigued face, neither was he. “We’ll meet you and Cassius back here in an hour or so,” she suggested.
“Agreed,” Pansy replied quickly. She was eager to get Cassius away from Draco as soon as possible.
Shooting both of them a quick smile, she grabbed Cassius’ hand and led him towards one of the stores. Draco watched them walk away before ushering Hermione to a small patch of grass under a thick stone bench.
“Let’s sit.”
Given the size of the bench, Hermione had to sit awkwardly closer to Malfoy than she was used to but she knew that it would be a convincing scene if Cassius or Lestrange came by. She wondered if Draco would bring up last night’s discussion at all – they had both been at a very vulnerable emotional stage and perhaps, he regretted his decision to tell her about Adria.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
“That’s good,” he said. “Do you have everything you need for tonight? Since we’re here, you can buy yourself anything else you want…”
“Pansy said she has a dress for me, so whatever…”
Draco looked at her with a confused expression. “You don’t like Pansy’s dress?”
“It’s purple,” she muttered, feeling extremely stupid and probably sounding the same way. “It’s…”
She wasn’t sure if Draco would laugh at her or think she was completely mental to be worrying about something as stupid as colour.
“It makes me look a lot shorter than I am,” she said. “And slightly fatter. And Pansy’s forcing me to wear it! You can’t force people to wear purple.”
A smile broke out on Draco’s face and within a second, he was laughing. “That’s what you’re worried about?” he said, amidst fits of hysteria.
“Well thank you for making me feel self-conscious,” she mumbled, embarrassed and red.
“Oh come on,” he said, slowing down now. “The great Hermione Granger is worried about looking inadequate - you have to admit that you sound ridiculous.”
“Well, I’m your wife… you’re supposed to humour me and tell me that I look beautiful no matter what, idiot.”
Draco snorted. “Even I can’t lie like that.”
“You’re impossible.”
“No I’m not,” he said, the laughter dying down and being replaced by a deep sadness. “I just got another dose of that Fiendfyre antidote so I’m in a better mood.”
“Oh.”
Draco opened his mouth to say something before his eyes darted over to something behind Hermione and his face stiffened. “Come closer,” he commanded her. “Stroke my hair.”
“Excuse me?”
“Just do it,” he said. “Someone’s looking at us.”
Hermione placed her hand against Draco’s temple and began to gently run her fingers through his soft blonde hair. She had an uncontrollable urge to turn around and see this particular stranger but her mind kept shooting her down. Draco leaned in closer to her and tilted his head slightly so that she could feel his peppermint breathe against her cheeks.
“Just keep smiling,” he said, plastering a smile onto his own face. “I can’t quite make out his face.”
She couldn’t help but notice the extreme closeness between her and Draco. She moved her hand from his hair and lowered it to his cheekbone, stroking it gently. He lost his focus for a second and his eyes fell away from the target and into Hermione’s and without warning, he leaned in closer, ending up merely an inch away from her face. She saw his grey eyes, felt his gentle breath against her cheek and it was racing as fast as her heart.
Footsteps were heard up ahead and Hermione felt Draco being pulled off of her. Her mind was still a little dizzy from the sharp electricity and so she didn’t quite register the mysterious figure grabbing Malfoy by the collar.
“GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY GIRLFRIEND!” Ron yelled, before tightening his fist and punching Malfoy straight in the nose.
---
“Ron!” Hermione cried and shot up instantly, pushing him slightly farther so that he wouldn’t break Draco into two pieces.
“What the HELL was that?!” Ron asked, completely red in the face.
Hermione turned around to see Draco lying on the ground with blood sprouting from his nose and upper lip. He cringed as the aftermath of the punch still shocked his nerves. “Bloody hell, Weasley!”
“Ron, why on earth did you punch him?!”
“HE WAS ABOUT TO KISS YOU! He’s lucky I didn’t snap him in half!”
Hermione bent down at Draco’s side and placed her hand against his bleeding nose. “Draco, can you hear me?”
“Unless you sound like an exceptionally loud ringing bell, not very clearly,” he muttered, clasping his nose as the blood dripped down his chin. He looked up at Ron. “Weasley, I swear when I get up, I’m going to break of your arm and beat you to death with it.”
“Ron, what’re you even doing here?!” Hermione asked, grabbing her wand and trying to remember the spell to heal broken bones.
“I was trying to figure out a way to get to Malfoy Manor!” he grunted. “Last time, that old bloke came and got me from the station – I don’t know how on earth I’m supposed to get there by myself!”
“No, I mean… why on earth are you here?”
“Are you kidding me?” he cried. “You left the Burrow to come here by yourself and take on some murderous killer and his stupid blonde puppet! I wasn’t going to leave you alone! But luckily I came here to find you almost kissing this useless excuse for a human being.”
“Weasley, shut up!” Draco bellowed, getting up on knees and slowly hoisting himself to his feet. A few pedestrians turned to stare at the odd trio but Ron’s scowl and Hermione’s hysteria kept them from wandering any closer.
“Ron, just calm down for now… we can’t attract any attention,” Hermione pleaded.
“Hermione-”
“Just listen to me, Ron!”
“No!”
“Weasley,” Draco said through gritted teeth. “Possibly the most dangerous death eater is right here in this very bloody village, thinking that your girlfriend is my wife. If you don’t bloody shut up and calm down, you’re going to get all of us killed.”
Hermione heard Draco’s words – the most dangerous – and she was sure he was talking about Cassius. But Cassius didn’t seem all that bad and then she remembered that Pansy hadn’t really finished telling her his story.
“Go to hell, Malfoy!”
“Ron, calm down and listen to him.”
“I won’t bloody well do anything of the sort. You and I are going home right now.”
“No!”
“Weasley, leave her alone.”
“She’s my girlfriend!”
“That doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do!”
“Weasley, bloody hell… you’re making her cry.”
“Shove off, Malfoy, this is none of your business!”
“Ron, stop fighting for Merlin’s sake!”
“Hermione, just come with me!”
“No!”
“Why the hell not? What’s gotten into you?”
“You can’t order me around!”
“You’re my girlfriend!”
“Well I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore!”
Draco’s jaw fell open while Ron, red, looked at Hermione as tears ran down her face. “I’m sorry,” she said weakly.
His shattered gaze remained fixed on Hermione’s gentle features and he put his hands on her face. At first she closed her eyes to his soft touch but she collected herself and moved away. “I’m really sorry.”
“You’re just upset,” Ron said frantically. “It’s alright.”
“Ron, please don’t make this harder than it already is,” she replied.
“You can’t break up with me…”
Draco hadn’t seized the opportunity to be tactful and slowly withdraw from the situation. He awkwardly stood a few feet away from the torn couple and didn’t hesitate to listen in on the conversation with surprise but also an unexplained feeling of guilt.
“I know it’s really hard to see but this is the right thing for us.”
Ron didn’t have a chance to respond as two figures came walking forward from behind one of the stores. Pansy was carrying two large white bags while Cassius smoothly trailed behind with another three bags in his hand. Draco immediately turned red and faced Hermione’s bloodshot eyes with fear.
To her own surprise, an unexpected trigger acted in Hermione’s head and she threw herself into Ron’s arms, embracing him.
“I can’t believe you came all the way from Belgium to surprise me!” she cried, breathing onto Ron’s neck.
He was confused enough and opened his mouth to retort but a sharp whisper from Hermione stopped him: “Just please don’t talk,” she pleaded.
“What on earth is going on?” Pansy said, her face losing its entire colour.
“Oh Pansy, I don’t think you’ve met my friend from Belgium,” Hermione exclaimed happily. “This is Ronald.”
Pansy gaped at Hermione for a second and then past her at Draco’s stunned face. “A pleasure,” she said after a while, smiling shortly at Ron who was all the more perplexed.
“Ronald, this is my friend from Hogwarts, Pansy Parkinson and this is Cassius Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange’s son,” she added trying to sound extremely nonchalant.
Ron’s eyes widened to enormous proportions. “WHAT?!”
“Ronald, please don’t be silly,” she said, laughing slightly. “I told you Draco and I had guests staying at the Manor.”
“I wasn’t aware of anyone else visiting,” Cassius remarked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing into thin slits.
“Ronald’s a friend of Hermia’s older brother,” Draco explained. “I was rather under the impression that he was still in Belgium in hiding but I suppose with the Ministry dilly-dallying, getting into London’s a breeze.”
“Ah, so is he staying with us?” Cassius asked as the winter wind blew gently.
“I’d hope so,” Hermione said icily. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen him.”
Ron was speechless, staring madly at both Hermione and Draco as she put her arm under his and tugged it gently. “Come along, Ronald. You must be starving.”
“I agree,” Draco said smoothly, grabbing Hermione’s hand gently and escorting her forward.
They began to walk towards the forest, away from the tiny little village. Pansy, after staring at Ron awkwardly for a few seconds, accepted Cassius’ arm and strode forward. Though Hermione didn’t turn back, she could hear Ron’s large boots clunk against the ground as he followed.
“You’re getting better,” Draco whispered slowly, a grin forming on his face.
Hermione looked at him and tried to respond with equal happiness. As the ground began to get softer as they treaded towards the Manor, she nodded unenthusiastically. “Yeah.”
---
By the time that Cassius excused himself to go get ready for the ball and Lestrange returned back from his “trip” with bloody knuckles and a perverse smile, Hermione had managed to sneak Ron into the master bedroom and calm him down before explaining everything. And as the evening hue began to fill the sky, she finally took a deep breath after finishing her story without hesitating to wonder where Draco and Pansy might have gotten to.
“Lestrange couldn’t have had a son…” Ron said, looking into the distance. Hermione noticed that his voice had become much lower and he refused, at all costs, to make eye contact.
“He does,” she said. “I had no idea either. So, now you know what’s going on.” A twinge of guilt hit her when she internally apologized for the lie. She hadn’t told Ron everything that had happened including Draco’s involvement with Adria’s death, the Edacium curse and her witnessing of Bartholomew’s death.
“Right.”
“Oh for Merlin’s sake, Ron, please talk to me,” she pleaded, throwing her hands in the air.
“I don’t need to talk to you,” he replied. “I just want to leave.”
Anger began to boil inside Hermione as she glowered. “Well, you can’t,” she said coldly. “You got yourself into this mess and now, you’re going to have to wait till it all clears up.”
“And why the hell not?”
“Lestrange now thinks you’re some stupid death eater friend of ours,” she explained, getting up. “And if you leave suddenly, it’s going to look very suspicious. If you’d j-”
Hermione stopped talking as the door creaked open and Draco and Pansy came inside, both looking tired. Eli followed in at the end and shut the door gently before turning to speak.
“Mr. Weasley,” he said courteously.
Ron just nodded shortly and started speaking to Malfoy. “I want to leave.”
“Well you can’t,” he retorted. “You’re going to have to stay for the gathering tonight and then can leave immediately tomorrow morning.”
Hermione noticed the reddish hue surrounding Draco’s nose; she had healed the bone but the smears of blood were still slightly evident. Pansy was silent though the worry lines were beginning to set into her forehead as she creased them constantly out of concern.
“I’m not following your orders,” Ron spat angrily. “You’ve cost me enough for a lifetime.”
“Ron! Shut up!” Hermione burst. “HE did absolutely nothing – this has been a long time coming!”
“We’re very short on time,” Eli chimed in. “This has to wait.”
“Eli’s right,” Pansy agreed. “Please.”
“Mr. Weasley, I’ll arrange for some dress robes for you tonight.”
Ron glowered silently, shooting death glances mainly at Draco from where he sat. Hermione noticed that his lips were curled up, indicating a pensive undertone. She hoped he would stop arguing and cooperate, if only just for tonight.
“And I get to leave tomorrow?” he asked Eli.
“I will have a carriage escort you personally,” Eli said, nodding.
Ron looked up at Hermione with a sick look in his face, glaring. He then turned back to Eli and stood up. “Fine.”
Then, without another look at Malfoy or Hermione, he stormed into one of the sub-rooms in the huge master bedroom.
---
Cassius saw his father lying sprawled on an armchair with the Daily Prophet in his hands as he entered his room. The room’s dark green walls were all centered by a ceiling that extended into the darkness above. In one corner of the room, two huge velvet arm chairs lay on a round Persian rug, each with silver embroidery of the letter ‘M’. Most of the room, however, was dominated by a huge canopy bed adorned with black sheets and silver cushions over a dark wood bed frame.
“You’re back,” Lestrange said, not bothering to put down his paper.
“I am.”
“And how was the shopping?” he asked.
Cassius paused and sat himself down onto the second silver arm chair. “Quite pleasant,” he replied flatly.
“Did you manage to talk with Lady Malfoy?”
Cassius smiled as his father probed him with his black eyes. His father had sent him on a pitifully menial mission to judge the credibility of Lady Malfoy. He had been suspicious since day one of this bushy haired, uncoordinated, seemingly bold woman; a description such as that was very much against what anyone would have imagined Lady Malfoy would be.
“She’s nothing special,” Cassius said, dismissing his father’s doubts, “just a regular airhead, perfect for Malfoy.”
He smiled as the lie settled into Lestrange’s mind calmly. Truth be known, she was very bold and extremely intelligent – much to his own surprise. He, like any other, had always thought Lucius would fix Draco up with some stupid, extremely attractive woman who would sit idly by his side as he ruled over the Malfoy fortune. But this clearly wasn’t the case – Hermia Devereux was not the kind of obviously pretty woman that the Malfoys chose as wives. Her hair was extremely tangled, never combed properly. She wore outfits that were clearly not made for her and most importantly of all, she had a mind of her own.
“Perhaps you should start getting ready,” Cassius suggested.
“I’ll be up in a few minutes,” he responded lazily. “By the way, if you see Hector… he should have a package for me.”
“Right.”
Cassius got up, nodded shortly and then exited. The pale hallway was familiar to him from his younger days and so he could absentmindedly navigate his way to his own room.
He noted that most of his generation despised, or at least strayed away from, their parents. Draco didn’t speak of his parents though he knew that they were tucked away safely in Azkaban thanks to his father. Pansy broke off all ties with her father when he was caught trying to torture a muggle and even he despised Lestrange who cared only for power and nothing else.
“Did you need something?”
Cassius looked up and smiled as Draco walked up to him from ahead with a concerned expression on his face.
“I guess I must’ve missed my room,” Cassius admitted. “Sorry.”
“Good thing I stopped you or you’d have headed straight to the dungeons.”
“Good thing you did.”
Draco shrugged coldly. “You should get ready though.”
“As should you; you are the host after all, we can’t have you missing out on all the fun.”
Draco nodded. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
---
With Ron tucked away safely in one of the sub-rooms, Pansy getting ready in her own room and Draco taking a walk somewhere in the Manor, Hermione finally got a chance to calm down and collect her thoughts. But instead of a rational sorting through of her many ideas, she found herself spilling tears down her cheeks. She sat herself on the ground against the bed and felt the warm salty substance drip against her skin.
She didn’t really understand why she was crying though. Was the fact that she had just broken up with her boyfriend of over three years and her best friend for over ten years? Was it because she had just come within an inch of kissing Draco Malfoy and it was possibly the most electrifying contact she had ever shared with anyone? Or was it because the man who had killed her parents was living in the same house as she was?
“You’re crying,” Eli said sombrely. Hermione raised her head slightly off her knees and through her misty vision saw the aged man standing in front of her.
“You’re not going to try to stop me, are you?” she asked in a low voice.
Eli smiled sorrowfully and shook his head. “Tears are often necessary to help up clear out our vision. It helps many see better, I find.”
“I hate crying,” she said. “I feel so weak.”
Eli adjusted the back of his robes and sat down beside Hermione on the floor. “Emotions are a sign of strength, not weakness. So tell me, what is it that floods you with so much emotion?”
“A lot of things,” she said exasperatedly. “I have absolutely no one left, Eli. My friends are absorbed in their own lives; Ron probably never wants to see me again…”
“And what about Master Malfoy?”
Hermione laughed weakly. “He doesn’t want me, he needs me.”
Eli turned his neck and put his white, pale hands on Hermione’s. “Ms. Granger, you are an incredibly intelligent and beautiful woman and you have your entire life ahead of you. Just like the huge garden in the courtyard outside, it takes the wilting of one small rose for us to notice the beauty of the whole edifice. Sometimes, instead of trying to hold onto something, we need to let it go.”
“I’ve been with Ron for so long…”
“Then apologize to him.”
“But I just… I just don’t feel the same way about him. I can’t go back to him, not as his girlfriend.”
“So now you will learn what it’s like to be without him and it will hurt and you’ll probably cry some more but I promise you, one morning you’ll wake up and you will realize that even though you may not have your secure life, you have friends that care for you and an entire world brimming with possibilities for you to explore. And then, you’ll feel happy again.”
“And what if that never happens?”
Eli’s expression softened. “It will, you have to make sure of it. Ms. Granger, life can either be changed or accepted. If it cannot be accepted, it must be changed and if it cannot be changed, then it must be accepted.”
“No one wants to change, Eli.”
Eli laughed gently and got up off the floor, adjusting his robes carefully. “You’d be surprised to see how much people yearn for change – how even the smallest of actions are indicative of a magnanimous sentiment.”
Reaching into his pockets, he produced a pale blue handkerchief and handed it to Hermione. “You should get ready,” he suggested. “I’d better head down, the guests are arriving.”
“Thank you, Eli.”
Hermione got off the ground and smiled as Eli left the room with a pop. He was always such a cryptic persona. She walked over to the window and looked down at the front courtyard where carriages were lining up as some of England’s richest and cruellest wizards descended into Malfoy Manor. Hermione heard the door open behind her and from the clanking of the heels, she could tell that it was Pansy.
“Feeling nervous?” Pansy asked.
“A little,” she admitted.
Hermione faced Pansy and felt a twinge of jealousy as the attractive brunette looked even prettier than normal in her ensemble. She was wearing a fitted dark blue dress that reached the tip of her toes and from the top, wove itself around her neck, extenuated by large antique gold earrings. Her hair was tied in an up do but the few tresses that did manage to escape were curled and fell on the side of her face deliberately.
Hermione saw her own messy reflection in the large mirror against the wall and grunted. “I hate you.”
Pansy smiled. “Thank you.”
“No but seriously, how is it that I always manage to look like a train wreck?”
“Hermione, stop being silly and get ready. I’ve got your dress here and I’ll send a house elf up with the jewellery.”
“Fine, there’s no use avoiding it anymore – purple and I need to try and get along.”
She held up a life-sized package and handed it to Hermione, topping it off with a bottle of Madam Malga’s hair style cream, essence of lavender and a teeth whitening charm. She also thrust a huge jar of Spfelli’s Curling Cure on top before wishing Hermione luck and leaving to go check up on Ron.
Hermione unzipped the huge package and allowed herself a momentary breath before taking out the dress. It wasn’t the overload of purple that she was expecting. Instead, a handful of soft satin hit her hands before Hermione realized that her dress was in fact a burgundy satin dress with gold buttons that crimped at the waist and had delicate beaded embroidery on its thin sleeves. Attached at the neckline was a tiny note which, given her emotional state, put a huge smile on her face.
No one should be forced to wear purple .
