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The Dare	By : Tassanaburrfoot Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 82898 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. Don't own any of the characters. Am not making a profit.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
The rest of the spa trip remained relatively uneventful. The ladies continued to talk about Hermione’s aspirations and dreams as well as their men. Hermione was respectful, though she did begin to call Narcissa by her nickname towards the end. The astounding thing, for the Muggle born at least, was the fact that they laughed. Draco had been right when he told the young witch that Narcissa was rather lonely with no other female companions to spend some girl time with, though the older witch did admit she had a couple friends who corresponded to her. But they had lives and husbands, so spending time outside the home was difficult.

As Hermione sat at the vanity inside the bathroom, she reflected on her relationship with Draco. She was only seventeen and life had barely begun, however Narcissa had pointed out something the Muggle born hadn’t thought of before. If the war had shown anything, it was how fleeting life was. People were there one day and gone the next. What happened after life was a mystery to the living and could be frightening to consider.

She stared at her reflection. Narcissa had been kind to her surprise. More than kind. She was beautiful, wise, and gave rather helpful advice in dealing with Draco and his mood swings. When they had returned to the Manor, Narcissa had helped show Hermione to the bedroom she shared with the youngest Malfoy. It was still two hours before the banquet and the Muggle born sighed, not having anything to do. She really wished she had brought a textbook or two. Draco was with his father getting his dress robes tailored, but was expected to return any moment.

She still wasn’t entirely certain about the scene from the night before. While it had been intriguing and he didn’t really do anything unusual, it was still… unsettling. Not having her eyesight gave Hermione the chills, but even she had to admit it felt good. Even when he tied her hands up, which had genuinely scared her, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Her other senses had been thrown into overdrive and it left her nervously anticipating what he would do next.

“It’s only for the bedroom,” she whispered to herself as she touched her cheek. She could see, when they were finished, that he wanted to do it again. To be honest, she did, too.

She heard the door to the bedroom open and shut and, a millisecond later, his voice calling her name. She smiled softly. If only she could convince him to call her by her given name… She liked the way it had rolled off his tongue both times he had said it. The husky lilt to his voice and the flash of desire in his eyes had made her heart melt and she craved for more.

“I’m in here,” she called out, not getting up from her seat. She picked up a bottle of his cologne and sniffed at it, the corners of her lips curving upward in a smile as her eyes fluttered.

She heard him enter the bathroom and glanced up in the mirror. As always, he was the picture of perfection. His platinum blond hair was slicked back and his molten silver eyes were alight with a burning passion. He wore the formal robes he just had tailored and she had to stifle a whimper. She had seen him dressed up before, so that wasn’t really anything new, but he looked so good in black with a white oxford underneath and a black bowtie fastened at his neck.

“Hello, my princess,” he greeted with a smile. He approached her and kissed her on top of the head. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

She sighed. “I became distracted,” she admitted, relinquishing the bottle of cologne to him. “Did the tailors go well?”

He spritz a bit of cologne at his neck and placed the bottle back on the vanity. “It did,” he said, using the mirror to fix the invisible strands of hair that were, Hermione assumed, out of place. “And you? How was the spa?” He looked at her through the mirror. “How was my mother?”

The Muggle born smiled. “It was wonderful. Your mother is the epitome of poise and grace,” she told him. “We talked for hours about everything.”

“About everything, huh?” he repeated. His eyes narrowed. “What did she say about me?”

The witch giggled. “Oh, now, you don’t expect me to divulge the things we spoke of, do you? Suffice it to say, I had the privilege of learning a bit about you apart from what I already know. Of course, I learned a few things about your father that I would have been happier never knowing about, but I think that comes with the territory of speaking with your mum,” she said as she stood up.

As she turned towards him, he lifted a hand and ran the backs of his fingers over her silk clad shoulder. “You should get dressed,” he suggested.

She could feel the heat from his gaze and it made her shiver. Something had changed in their relationship, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. He just seemed… different. Darker. Maybe even deadlier? It didn’t really make sense in her mind and she shook the feeling away with a promise to explore it at greater length later. She nodded quietly and made to move pass him. He grabbed her arm, effectively stopping her, and pressed his lips against hers. She felt her stomach do a sort of flip flop. This kiss was hard and full of a passion she hadn’t known he harboured. Had he been holding back all this time?

When they broke apart, she felt herself blush from the raw sex in his eyes. “Dressed,” she breathed. He gave a single nod and stepped out of her way, his eyes never leaving her.

She carefully took the dress off of the hanger. It was beautiful and, surprisingly, heavy. It took a bit, and some choice swear words that had Draco laughing and helping her put it on, but the dress was on and she stopped for a moment to stare at herself in the mirror.

The dress was a royal purple Mermaid sweetheart dress with a sleeve starting on the upper arm rather than the shoulder on one side. The other arm was bare and had a diamond encrusted strap holding it up. The bodice had an intricate pattern of diamonds as did the sleeve. She turned slightly so she could look at the back of the dress. The strap widened and ran across and down her back to meet with the sleeve. More diamonds glittered along the path, some a bit larger than others. She blanched at seeing the rest of her back bare. Turning back around, she held her arms together by their elbows.

“I look like a princess,” she said softly as Draco stepped up behind her.

He smirked and gently turned her around to him. “You are a princess, Granger,” he told her as he lifted a delicate diamond tiara and placed it on her head.

“Why don’t you call me by my given name?” she asked curiously.

He looked at her for a moment, considering the question. He gave a small shrug. “Because you’re not a Malfoy yet,” he answered. He met her eyes and lightly cupped her jaw. “But you will be one day, I’m certain. At least, that is my dream.” Dropping his hands, he turned her back around so she could see the tiara on her head. “Now, not long ago, it was considered unseemly for a woman to show her arms during a formal supper as we are having this evening. However, as the years progress, we’ve learned to adapt to the times. A woman will often still wear gloves to supper and I’ve no doubt you’ll see plenty of witches with them. But many of those in our generation and both slightly older and younger have opted to show a bit of skin. You, my princess, will be sitting between my mother and Mrs. Olivia Parkinson, that’s Pansy Parkinson’s mother. I will warn you that she, like many who will be here tonight, is very steeped in the old ways and you will witness a hefty amount of racism and bigotry. I would encourage you to be polite and civil to these people , though I am not expecting you to allow them to walk all over you. You may be a Muggle born, but you are a Gryffindor and my girlfriend. I am hoping you won’t be the topic of their bigotry, but I cannot make any promises.”

“So expect more sentiments like the ones Madam Joceline gave,” she surmised.

He met her eyes in the reflection of the mirror. “Expect to give it as good as you get,” he told her. “These people need to learn to respect you because, in the event that I do ask you to be my wife, you will be required to be just as ruthless and unapologetic as they are. Many of these people are snakes or have been around snakes long enough to know how to handle them.”

“Death Eaters?” she guessed.

His face softened and he sighed, turning away from her. “Some, perhaps,” he confessed. “Namely the ones who managed to slip through the Ministry’s fingers. I don’t think any would be people you know, however.” He walked up to his nightstand and opened the drawer. Pulling out a couple boxes, he turned back to her. “There will be music tonight similar to what had been played at the Yule Ball two years ago. The difference is that we won’t have the Weird Sisters or any other such band playing at any point. This is a high class gathering, not a school dance. You will see some of our classmates, mostly those in Slytherin House.” Approaching her, he opened one of the boxes and pulled out a diamond tennis bracelet. “May I have your wrist, please?”

She held up the hand with the bare arm and watched him fasten the jewellery onto her wrist. “My father bought this bracelet for my mother when they first started dating,” he explained. “In return, my mother wished to see it on you. A sort of heirloom, if you will.” Her eyes widened as she glanced down at the bracelet. “It’s yours now, I reckon,” he told her.

Hermione looked back up at him. “But your father had given it to your mother, I couldn’t possibly…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scowled as he turned her around to face the mirror again. “My father has given my mother plenty of jewellery over the years. I wouldn’t doubt it if it had been his idea to give you the bracelet.” He had pocketed the box the bracelet had been in and opened another box. Gently taking out the heart shaped diamond pendent, he placed the white gold necklace around her neck and latched the clasp behind her. “Now, this…”

“Another gift from your father?”

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “No, my princess. This is a gift from me. I saw it in the window of a jewellery shop in Diagon Alley today and thought it would look lovely sitting atop your chest.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. “What do you know? I was right.”

She smiled at his reflection as he placed a gentle kiss on her shoulder and handed her a third box. “Of course, I had to buy the matching earrings to go with it,” he admitted and she blushed as she opened the box to find a pair of diamond heart shaped earrings.

“Oh, Draco,” she whispered, brushing her fingertips over the earrings. “This is far too much.”

“Nonsense,” he argued. “As I said, you are a princess.”

“Yes, but all these diamonds,” she said, looking at her reflection again.

He frowned. “It is my right to shower my girl in diamonds if it so pleases me,” he pointed out defensively.

A knock came at the door and the couple glanced at it. “Draco, darling,” his mother’s voice rang out from behind the door. “Guests should be showing up at any minute. You and Miss Granger are needed in the foray.”

“We’re coming, Mother,” he called back. He turned back to Hermione. “Since you are my girlfriend and not my fiancée, you’re not required to know everyone by name or even to put on a face as if you like them. Just be polite and let them see the rare jewel that you are.”

She rolled her eyes at his flattery, but she could feel the butterflies congregating at the pit of her stomach. He took her hand and led her out of the suite of rooms to the entrance hall. She boldly glanced at the various paintings on the way, too. She hadn’t really paid much attention to them the first time, but now she as carefully noting each piece of artwork, partly because she wanted to see if she found anymore of Gainsborough’s work and partly because she could sense that the Manor did not like her and she actually wanted to see just how badly it accepted her presence. She wasn’t sure if it was dismay or relief that lifted her heart as they made it to the entrance hall, but thus far, none of the paintings or other artefacts had done anything.

Hermione stopped when she saw the two people standing in the hall. “Luna?” she asked louder than she meant, drawing the younger witch’s attention. The hall amplified her question and gave it a slight echo.

The blond haired girl gave a whimsical smile. “Hello, Hermione,” she greeted.

Breaking away from Draco, the Muggle born approached her friend. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her eyes wide though she lowered her voice to a soft hiss.

In answer, Luna touched the shoulder of the man whose arm she was holding. Hermione blinked. And blinked again. “Theodore Nott,” she said.

The Slytherin turned his attention to her and gave her a soft smile and polite nod. “Good evening, Miss Granger,” he replied.

This man wasn’t the same boy Hermione remembered in the Slytherin dormitories. He was cleaner with a fresh haircut and smooth chin. His black and white dress robes were accented with a silver snake pin on the left side of his chest. While his eyes still danced in amusement, there was a stiff, pointed air about him that gave him a more sophisticated, serious look.

Hermione snapped her mouth shut. “The two of you are dating?” she asked.

Theodore glanced at the girl on his arm thoughtfully. “To be honest,” he answered when Luna looked up at him, “I’m not entirely certain. I asked her to join me this evening, however,” he turned back to Hermione, “there aren’t any guarantees yet. We’ll see how this evening goes.”

Luna nodded in agreement. “He did ask me to be his girlfriend,” she told Hermione, “but I told him that I simply couldn’t at this juncture because we hardly know one another.” Then as an afterthought, she added, “You look lovely tonight, Hermione.”

The Muggle born pressed her lips together before giving a soft nod of her head. “As do you,” she said. “Is yellow your favourite colour?”

Luna looked down at her sunshine robes and shook her hips back and forth. To Hermione’s amazement, they actually changed from yellow to orange and back again as the girl moved. “Luna, that’s… that’s amazing,” the Muggle born said, earning a happy smile from her friend. She gave a wary smile back. “You look like the sunrise.”

“And you look like a princess,” the girl replied.

Theodore touched Luna’s hand and glanced at Draco. “Refreshments in the parlour?”

The blond Slytherin shrugged. “Probably. That is where my parents are receiving people,” he answered as another witch entered the room.

She had sharp features and skin that looked as though it was falling off her bones. Her acid green robes did little to compliment the pale, spotty skin and dark hair. Hermione blinked as Draco smiled, holding a hand out to the woman. “Mrs. Nott! What a pleasant surprise to see you,” he greeted. “And aren’t you as lovely as ever?”

For all her sallow, loose skin, the woman held herself with the same amount of grace Hermione had seen in Narcissa. She gave a derisive sniff and pulled off her cloak. “And you are as charming as your father, young man,” she said as Draco took the cloak. “Don’t let me catch you sneaking my son firewhiskey. He is much too young for that.”

Theodore rolled his eyes. “I turned 17 in November, Mother,” he said patiently.

“And I read an article just last week in the Prophet of a boy of seventeen dying after drinking that hellish stuff,” she countered. Her eyes fixed on Luna. “I leave it to you, girl, to keep an eye on him.”

The young Ravenclaw inclined her head. “I will do my best, ma’am,” she said as Theodore rolled his eyes and ushered them both to the parlour.

Hermione shook her head in amazement as she watched them walk away. “How did he ever manage to convince her to come with him?”

Draco shrugged as he looked at the beautiful witch curiously. “Why did you lie to her?” he asked.

She turned her attention back to her own date. “Hm? Lie to whom?”

“Lovegood,” he clarified. “You said you liked her dress, but I could see it in your face. You thought it was horrendous.”

“I didn’t say I liked it,” she argued. “I said it was interesting, which it was. And it did make her look like a sunrise. A yellow dress with yellow hair? Her fashion sense leaves something to be desired.”

“And yours doesn’t?” a deep voice asked from behind her. Hermione turned to see Blaise standing there with Daphne Greengrass.

The Muggle born smiled at the dark skinned Slytherin. Behind the pair stood someone who reminded Hermione of Cleopatra with an equally Egyptian person on her arm. “It’s so good to see you, Blaise,” the young witch said with a smile. “Having a good holiday so far?”

He inclined his head. “So far,” he echoed. “Daphne and I slipped to Italy yesterday so we could pick up her dress and dine in Venice.”

“Blaise, darling, do you know this lady?” the woman behind him asked.

He glanced at the woman. “I do. She’s a schoolmate of mine and Draco’s girlfriend,” he said. He turned back to the Muggle born. “May I present to you my mother, Lady Nefertiti Zabini. Mother, this is the war heroine Hermione Granger.”

Hermione could literally feel the vanity oozing off of the woman. And what a presumptuous name! Still, the young witch gave a respectful nod of her head even as Mrs. Zabini commented, “A Muggle born? Your parents must be so proud, Draco.”

Hermione bulked at the thick sarcasm in the woman’s voice. She opened her mouth to speak, but the blond cut her off, “They are, actually. My mother loves her and my father has stated that she is the best thing to ever happen to me.”

The dark witch frowned. “I do hope your family isn’t turning traitor,” she said.

Draco shook his head. “Not at all,” he replied. “But even you have to admit, Mrs. Zabini, the pickings of a good Pureblood witch are rather slim, especially if I want one my own age. We have to be a bit more liberal in whom we choose to mate with, otherwise our race would die out. And Miss Granger here is the brightest witch of our age, surpassing even myself in grades, knowledge, and wit. She swept the floor with some of the highest skilled wizards in all of Britain, including my own father. I would be a fool let something as silly as blood status come between the two of us.”

Hermione remembered how he had stood up for her in that dress shop weeks ago and found herself blushing against the praise. Mrs. Zabini raised a single eyebrow and Hermione had the distinct impression that she was impressed.

“And are you betrothed?” the lady asked.

Draco shook his head in the negative. “We’ve just started dating a couple months ago and I haven’t even met her parents yet. We’re taking our time.”

A soft smirk graced the witch’s lips. “I see,” she said and Hermione suddenly felt uncomfortable under the woman’s gaze. “Blaise. Let us journey into the parlour, shall we?”

With that, the two couples drifted into the other room and Hermione looked at her boyfriend. His eyes were narrow as he watched them walk away and she could tell he wasn’t happy. “Blasted spider,” he growled once they were gone.

Hermione blinked and glanced in the direction they had disappeared to. “She isn’t humble,” she observed.

He looked at her and kissed her on the tip of her nose before hugging her. “Thank Merlin your parents are Muggle,” he breathed.

The young witch gave a nervous chuckle and pushed away from him. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I know that woman,” he told her. “Had they been magical, she would be at their house tomorrow, making a bid for your hand for Blaise. Did you see the way she was looking at you? Muggle born or not, your brains coupled with your beauty are enough to make anyone desire you, especially if they want their descendants to be intelligent.”

“But I’m dating you,” she pointed out.

“That you are.”

“And I’ve no intention of letting others try to buy me away from you,” she said to him. “As I said, I’m not a prize to be won. My parents have always encouraged me to make my own choices in life and I won’t change now.”

(II)(II)

Hermione hadn’t realized exactly how many people the Malfoys had invited, so she was relieved when Draco finally told her that the last couple, a Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Pucey, arrived with their son and Pansy Parkinson.

Now, the Muggle born sat at the dining table between Narcissa and a carbon copy of Pansy were she a couple decades older. The young witch remained silent during the appetizer, preferring to steal glances at Draco rather than attempt to make small talk with the woman sitting next to her. Narcissa was pleasant, but Mrs. Parkinson was a downright troll and didn’t hesitate to make her dissatisfaction of sitting next to a Muggle born known to anyone who would listen.

“Hermione,” Draco said, causing the witch to jump and nearly spill her wine. She hadn’t realized she had fallen into a daydream.

“Yes?” she replied placing the glass back. Her eyes darted to Blaise who was snickering before turning her attention to her boyfriend.

Draco gave a slight, patient smile. “In your own little world, princess?” he asked and Hermione couldn’t help but think he was laughing at her.

She pinched her lips together and responded, “I was thinking about that equation Professor Vector had given us before our break. I think I had made an error in my calculations.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Leave it to you to think about school when we are sitting at a banquet,” he teased.

“There isn’t anything wrong with her being concerned about her schoolwork,” Narcissa said, defending the girl beside her.

“Indeed,” her husband agreed. “You would do well to take a page out of her book, my boy. Perhaps that is why you never did as well as her?”

Draco scowled. “I don’t do as well because she’s a bloody walking encyclopaedia,” he said. “She could dance circles around me shooting spells with a blindfold and one hand tied behind her back and she’d still toss me against the wall as if I were some child’s dolly.”

“Should we test that theory?” Theodore pitched in with a smirk.

Draco’s face contorted in fury which only caused his friends to snicker at his expense. Hermione blushed as she looked down at her plate of food, her fork stabbing at some steamed carrots.

“How do you like your quail, Miss Granger?” Lucius asked causing Hermione to glance up again.

She gave him a smile. “It is exquisite, Mr. Malfoy,” she told him as she cut herself another slice of the bird. “Very tender and juicy. I’ll have to get the recipe later as I’m sure my mother would love it.”

“Perhaps I could have one of the house elves draw up a take home bag for you tomorrow,” the man suggested. “I doubt they’d part with their cutlery secrets, but they do love when we enjoy the food they give us.”

Hermione gave him a tight smile as she ate another bite of quail. “Out of curiosity, Miss Granger,” Mrs. Parkinson asked, taking a sip of her wine. “What sort of dowry has your father set aside for you?”

The Muggle born looked at the woman in confusion. “Dowry?” she questioned as she thought of it. “We… Muggles don’t hand out dowries anymore.”

The woman’s eyes widened and she glanced at Mrs. Zabini knowingly. “What about your inheritance?” the Egyptian woman asked with a raised eyebrow. “I can’t imagine your brother getting everything while you’re left with nothing. That would be really bad business.”

The young witch frowned. What century did these people live in? “I don’t have a brother,” she stated. “Or a sister for that matter. My parents only wanted one child, though I used to beg for a sibling when I was younger.”

The scandalized looks on the women’s faces would have been laughable if it were not so sad. “So, who inherits when your father passes? A cousin?” the dark skinned woman asked.

Blaise gave Hermione an amused look and Theodore hid his smile. “No, ma’am,” she replied hotly. “I’ve no cousins on my father’s side nor do I have any aunts or uncles. My father, like me, was an only child as well.”

“Won’t you inherit it all?” Draco asked.

She stared at him. He already knew the answer to that question, but she saw the slight smirk on his face. The Slytherin boys were having far too much fun with this discussion. Hermione speared another carrot and ate it.

“Actually, Mrs. Zabini,” she said, “if anything were to happen to my father, God forbid, my mother would inherit first. However, we don’t really discuss it all that much. Thinking about a family member’s death, particularly your own father, is rather depressing. We prefer to live in the present instead.”

“But you make top grades,” Mrs. Zabini observed. “One can only assume you do so in hopes of attracting a husband who values intelligence. Perhaps someone equally intelligent.”

The young witch scoffed. “Or I make top grades so I can be accepted into whatever apprenticeship I choose,” she said. “I do not need to attract a husband, Mrs. Zabini. If or when a man comes into my life that I am attracted to, he’ll feel the same towards me. I’ll marry for love, not riches.”

“Preposterous!” the Pureblood woman stated. “You sound as silly as Umbridge. She put her career before her marriage, too.”

“Yes, and now it’s all she has,” Mrs. Parkinson said solemnly.

“Some women aren’t cut out for marriage,” Mrs. Nott said softly. “Deloris Umbridge is nothing more than a fraud whose parents were desperate to rid themselves of her.”

Hermione frowned at her plate. “Deloris Umbridge was a bully,” she said more to herself than anyone.

The women tittered and Mrs. Parkinson waved her hand dismissively. “Deloris was always quite outspoken. Obsessed with Cornelius Fudge, too,” she said with a laugh.

Mrs. Zabini grinned maliciously. “Oh, Deloris. I wonder what ever happened to the poor girl?”

“Didn’t she get carried away by centaurs?” Luna piped in, glancing at Hermione. The Muggle born nodded and Luna continued, “She was a dreadful teacher and she had these wicked disciplinary measures that would make even You-Know-Who cringe.”

“Voldemort,” Hermione said softly, but clearly. The entire table stopped as all eyes turned to her. The Muggle born looked up and stared at her friend. “His name is Voldemort, Luna. You can say it. He’s dead.”

A minute passed and no one said a word, just continued to look at the young witch. Hermione did not back down, however. She knew people were seeing her differently at this moment and if she faltered, it would blow up in her face. She could feel hatred coming from some and unease from others.

Draco watched her and wasn’t sure if he should be proud. He had been taught from birth to never say the Dark Lord’s name, least of all in front of guests. He had heard Potter say it on occasion and had often laughed at the idiocy. But now, hearing the Muggle born say it, his thoughts began to change.

Hermione licked her lips and set her jaw. “It’s funny, isn’t, Luna?” she continued, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. “He had all these followers. All these people who believed in his cause, yet he was the biggest hypocrite of them all. At least Umbridge was a proven Pureblood and was raised to believe the tripe Voldemort and others like him spat.”

The blond girl nodded in agreement as Mrs. Nott hissed nastily, “You filthy little Mudblood! The Dark Lord…”

“Was a Half-blood,” Hermione interrupted. “Or did he not tell you?” Several people at the table had stood at the old witch’s shout, sneering and looking indignant. Even many of the Slytherins Hermione lived with had stood.

Draco pulled out his wand and pointed it at the witch, but said nothing as the old woman continued, “The Dark Lord wasn’t a Half-Blood, you nitwit! My husband had known him since he was a boy. His family…”

“Funny how no one has ever heard of the Riddle family,” Hermione said, interrupting the witch again. She looked curiously at Draco. “Are they part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight?”

This caused several gasps from the older witches and wizards around the table. Up until this point, the Malfoys had been silent. Lucius studied the girl carefully. “No, Miss Granger,” he replied to her question. “They are not. In fact, very few know the Dark Lord’s surname had been Riddle.”

“You mean, very few who actually served him,” she pointed out. “And obviously not the ones who feared him. Given Mrs. Nott’s proclamation, I wonder how many here know he was born and raised in a Muggle orphanage? That his Pureblooded mother had died in childbirth after tricking his Muggle father into falling in love with her? That she had fed him a love potion for years and managed to not only marry the Muggle, but convinced herself that he truly was in love with her.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at an outraged Mrs. Nott. “You think he really cared about blood purity? Truly? The entire time your husband and others served him he was far more interested in making himself immortal. So much so that he would kill anyone to gain what he desired the most.”

Mrs. Nott threw her napkin down. “How can you allow this, Lucius?” she hissed. “Allow this filth to sit at your table spouting lies and running her mouth about things of which she has very little knowledge of?”

Lucius looked at the woman curiously, though he hadn’t moved from his spot at the head of the table. “Who do you think helped Harry Potter defeat him, Agatha? I’ve been on the receiving end of Miss Granger’s wand and have studied her Hogwarts scores for years now. Believe me when I say, she earned her title as the brightest witch of her age. It doesn’t surprise me in the least that she would research the Dark Lord and learn as much as she could about him,” he said, his voice never rising, but commanding all the same.

Hermione didn’t know what surprised her more: that Lucius Malfoy, renowned Death Eater, was defending her, or that people seemed to actually be listening to him. “She’s a Mudblood bitch who threw my husband in Azkaban!” Mrs. Nott declared. Her grace had been forgotten as she pointed a finger at Hermione.

“You will do well to curb your tongue, Madam,” Draco growled softly. Hermione could see his stormy eyes brewing and knew he was angrier than he showed. The Muggle born clamped her mouth shut for a moment and watched the blond snake. Draco’s eyes were fixed on the older witch.

Finally, she couldn’t hold back any longer. “I never sent your husband to Azkaban, Mrs. Nott,” she said calmly. “You may not know this, but he murdered innocent people and it is believed he even raped a few of them, though the evidence there is insubstantial. My point is, it was his actions, not mine, that put him, and every other Death Eater that joined him, in Azkaban.”

“You are a very naïve little girl, Miss Granger,” the woman hissed.

“And you are in denial,” Hermione bit back. “You’re so quick to assume the best of your husband that you forget all those people he persecuted and would have continued to persecute if given the chance.”

The woman stood at that and picked up her purse. “I hope you have a good Christmas, Lucius. Narcissa. I appreciate the two of you for inviting me, but I find the company unpleasant and will excuse myself.”

“Oh, sit down, Mother,” Theodore growled, making Hermione stare at him in shock. “You’re embarrassing me with your antics.”

“My antics?” the woman repeated indignantly.

The dark haired boy nodded. “Yes. Your antics. In case you’ve forgotten, I am now the head of our family,” he said as he held himself up. “You’ve insulted our hosts, insulted Miss Granger, embarrassed yourself and me, and are attempting to leave this table like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. You are a Nott. And the Malfoys are our oldest friends. You’ll apologize to Miss Granger and spend the rest of the evening in silence.”

“Why you ungrateful little nosebleed!” she spat. “Your father and I raised you better than this.”

“Better? Really?” he asked mildly. “And how is that working out for us? For Father?” He glanced around the table, briefly meeting Hermione’s eyes before looking at Draco. “Times are changing. It’s no longer a world of Pureblood versus Muggle born. Our numbers have been depleted thanks to the Da… Voldemort. If we don’t change we will become extinct.”

“You’re just echoing the mantra the Ministry’s been prattling on about,” Mrs. Parkinson said angrily.

“I refuse to allow my daughter or son to breed with Muggles,” said a portly, balding man Hermione didn’t recognize. He was the spitting image of Crabbe, however, so the witch could easily guess who he was.

“I’m not suggesting anyone mate with Muggles,” Theodore clarified. He wrinkled his nose. “I read the Prophet every day and I saw the obituaries after Voldemort died. Most of the old wizarding families will be dead this generation or the next. The Blacks are all but extinct since Sirius died last year. All we have left from that family is Mrs. Malfoy and her sister. No males. So, the line is dead. So much for the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Personally, I would rather keep my family name alive even if it means I end up marrying a Muggle born in the end.”

Mrs. Nott gasped, putting a hand to her chest in outrage.

“They are not the same thing as Muggles, Mother,” Theodore stated before his mother could argue.

“Indeed, they are not,” Lucius said, surprising everyone. He glanced at Hermione. “Forgive me, my dear, but as soon as Draco told me of his intentions towards you, I took it upon myself to research your family history. It turns out, you have a squib in your ancestors.” Hermione’s eyes widened as he continued, “Running with a theory I had, I began investigating other known Muggle borns and their family histories. Imagine my surprise to discover that each one has a squib, sometimes even two, in their backgrounds.”

There were murmurs down the table as people seemed to be shocked. “So, you think a squib ancestor is the reason I can do magic?” Hermione asked finally.

He shrugged. “It would make sense, wouldn’t it? Within the past decade, there has been an upsurge of Muggle borns, which, until now, had been considered a rarity,” he explained. “As you know, Miss Granger, when a person is born a squib it’s difficult, not just for the child, but for the family as well. Giving their lack of magical talent, many are cast out, considered shameful and a disgrace. In the olden days, they were sent to Muggle orphanages. Most families in this age aren’t nearly as cruel, but the child will still be sent to attend Muggle schools and taught how to live like Muggles. It’s the most humane thing any Wizarding parent can do.”

Hermione didn’t agree with that entirely. “The most humane thing any Wizarding parent can do for a squib child is keep it and love it just as much as the other children,” she stated.

Lucius looked at her curiously. “You don’t think a parent of a squib would love the child just the same as any other?” he asked. His eyes shot to his son and back to her again. “There are children born every day with some form of deformity, be it a lost limb, extra limbs, without magic, or some mental deformity such as autism. I daresay, Miss Granger, these children are loved just as much as a normal child. However, like autistic or wheelchair bound children, squibs are treated with a delicate hand. There’s no cure for a child born without magic anymore as there is a cure for a child born without a leg. We simply learn to endure and teach the child how to cope with their abnormality. In a world where people strive to find others like themselves, children thrive best when they are with others who are dealing with the same things they are. If that means sending a squib to a Muggle school, where is the harm in that? The child will still return home for every holiday.”

Hermione bit her bottom lip and glanced down at her empty plate. “My apologies, Mr. Malfoy,” she said contritely. “I misunderstood what you meant.”

“That’s quite alright, my dear,” he said rather kindly. He turned his attention back to Mrs. Nott. “So, as you can see, Agatha, Muggle borns are very much a part of our world and, as such, there is little harm in mixing our kind with them or adding them to our bloodlines. The blood will still be pure.”

“It won’t,” the woman disagreed. “It’ll be tainted with Muggle blood which can lead to even more squibs being born.”

“What better way to get rid of the Muggle problem,” Blaise spoke up.

“Muggle problem?” Hermione asked, scowling.

He shrugged. “Apologies for the word choice,” he said. “But picture this: Most of the Wizarding World have an issue with Muggles, particularly those of us who are Pureblood. We’ve been persecuted by the Muggles for centuries. If we were to accept Muggle borns into our family trees, soon squibs and Muggle borns will be so commonplace that Muggles will begin to willingly accept us.”

“That is a beautiful pipe dream,” said a witch further down the table. Hermione saw Goyle sitting next to her and assumed the short, plump woman was his mother.

“It was the same pipe dream they had centuries ago,” a man stated. “And that was during a time when magic was more accepted by Muggles. Witches and wizards alike were still burned at the stake and cast out.”

“I guess it’s been years since you last attended Hogwarts,” Hermione replied. “Witches and wizards were rarely burned at the stake. In fact, most of the people who were burned were Muggles who had simply been accused of witchcraft and then, it was generally free-thinking women. On the off chance that an actual witch or wizard were caught, many, if not all, knew how to prevent themselves from actually being burned. One witch in particular enjoyed it so much, she allowed herself to get caught several times in different disguises.”

Draco smirked. “And there’s the Know-It-All. I was wondering when she would show up, princess,” he said, sitting back down in his chair. “Welcome to the party.”

The Muggle born glanced at him and then rolled her eyes.

(III)(III)

Draco leaned against the wall on the balcony. He could hear the laughter and merriment inside the Manor, but he ignored it. The rest of the supper had gone with little to no contest and everyone was swept into the ballroom where they now danced. Draco had guided Hermione through several dances before she begged to stop so she could get something to drink. Now she was chatting with Loony Lovegood and a few other girls she apparently knew that Draco didn’t.

His eyes narrowed as he thought over the conversation in the dining hall. He’d never known anyone to challenge the Malfoys and it irked him that the little bint had. Of course, she was Theodore’s mother, but it still grated on his nerves. Perhaps there was a way he could arrange an “accident” for the lady? After all, she was rather old and Theodore was an adult now, so he could handle the Nott estate. Of course, he would have to marry. Draco cringed as he thought of the idea of his best mate marrying the wacko from Ravenclaw.

“Out here alone?” the wizard Draco had just been thinking about asked as he stepped out onto the balcony.

The blond shrugged. “I needed some air,” he admitted. “And a chance to think.”

Blaise came out from behind Theo and stepped up to the railing. To the blond’s surprise, the dark skinned boy took something from his pocket, lit it with his wand, and began inhaling it. Blowing out the smoke, the boy sighed. “You don’t know how irritating Daphne Greengrass is until you’ve invited her out on a date,” he commented, leaning against the rail. He pointed the lit item at Draco. “You are going to have your work cut out for you. My mother has already made suggestions to me about Granger and has even asked me what I knew about her parents.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Your mother can suck my dick,” he growled. “Granger’s mine and if you try anything, I will bury you.”

Blaise lifted his hands up in surrender. “It was just a warning, mate, relax,” he said. “I told you before I have no interest in her as anything more than a friend.”

“What is that thing?” Theo asked when Blaise took another drag from his cigarette.

The dark skinned Slytherin looked at it. “The Muggles call it a fag,” he answered. “Some girl in Ravenclaw introduced me to them last time we were in Hogsmeade. Quite addicting, but they do help to take the edge off.”

Theo frowned. “Yeah, but what is it?”

Blaise licked his lips. “It’s kind of like a pipe,” he said thoughtfully. “Only smaller and easier to hide in your pockets.” He held the fag out to Theo. “Would you like to try?”

Theo took the proffered cigarette and looked at it for a moment before taking a drag himself. He immediately started coughing and hit his chest. “Merlin’s balls, this thing is strong!” he exclaimed. He offered it to Draco.

The blond seemed to consider it for a moment, but he took it and copied his friends’ motions. Unlike Theo, Draco didn’t cough. He went to hand it back to Blaise, but the boy shook his head and took out two more fags, lighting one and handing it to Theo before lighting his own.

“Now this is a Muggle invention I can get behind.” The black haired boy said, taking a drag from his fag.

“What’s with your mum, Theo?” Draco asked.

The boy sighed. “She’s bitter,” he admitted. “Father was ill when he went into Azkaban and she fears he’s going to die there. I mean, I don’t get it.” He frowned. “The cunt knew he had gotten life, what did she think was going to happen? He’s going to die in prison anyway.”

“What were the final charges?” Blaise asked.

“Four accounts of rape, three accounts 1^st degree homicide, five accounts of Muggle baiting, and… I think there’s a charge for manslaughter,” Theo said. “Oh! And he was charged for being a Death Eater.”

Blaise frowned. “How did your father get out of it, Drake?”

The blond shook his head. “He defected,” he said. “Told the Ministry he had no choice but to do what he did because the despot had threatened my mother and me. Those old codgers have soft spots for people who protect their families. It also helped that he provided names of people he knew were in league with the Dark Lord.”

The black boy nodded. “So, Theo, are you going to bang Lovegood or what?”

“Heh. No,” Theo replied. “I’d like to, but she’s a little virgin, so it would benefit me more to keep her intact until I can put a ring on her finger.”

“You are not seriously planning to marry that wacko?” Draco asked in disbelief, his eyes bulging a bit.

Theo shrugged. “Why not?”

“Loony Lovegood? Come on, mate, I thought you had better sense than that,” Draco drawled.

Theo glowered. “Don’t call her that. And what’s wrong with marrying her? You yourself said the pickings were slim for girls our age and given what happened with the courts and the path my mum is going down, I need to find a witch to settle down with.”

“You just turned seventeen, mate,” Blaise pointed out. “And she’s not even sixteen yet.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t solicit her father,” Theo said. “Which is what I plan on doing this week. From what I can tell, she has no prospects and her father isn’t doing so well himself.”

“Prospects,” Draco huffed. “A girl like her doesn’t get ‘prospects’, they get straightjackets.”

“I’m warning you, mate,” Theo said with narrowed eyes. “Watch what you say about her. You may not like her, but I do. What’s more, your princess, Granger, likes her, too.”

“What’s going on with Bulstrode?” Blaise asked, trying to curve the conversation.

“Goyle’s made a bid for her,” Theo said. “He was boasting about it inside. Did you notice how she was latched onto his arm?”

“So, the walruses find one another attractive. How cute,” Draco snarked, taking another drag of his fag.

Blaise frowned. “What’s gotten into you, mate? You’re being a dick.”

“All these fucking people,” Draco said, throwing his hands up in the air. “First it was your mother, then Theo’s mum. And that’s just the beginning! The Malfoys have always been trend setters and leaders and now…”

“So be a trend setter,” Theo suggested. “You’ve already started by staking a claim on a Muggle born. Marry her and others will start marrying their own Muggle borns.”

“You’re already a leader, Malfoy,” Blaise said as he handed Draco another fag. “And don’t think for a moment that your family has lost any respect. There were a lot of disagreements tonight, but your father said some things that have people buzzing. Even my mother made a comment about change being in the air.”

“Was that before or after she suggested you pursue my wife?” Draco snarled.

Blaise lifted an eyebrow. “She’s not your wife yet, Drake,” he said. “And you better be careful about claiming it, because if she catches on…”

“She already knows that I want to marry her,” the blond interrupted, waving a dismissive hand.

“Yeah, but, Drake,” Theo said, finishing his cigarette and tossing the butt off the balcony. Blaise handed him another one. “You use that line to do loads of shit. Look at Astoria and that fourth year a few weeks ago. You’re being unnecessarily brutal, mate, and she’s going to catch it.”

Draco scoffed as he took another drag and looked up at the moon. “I do what’s necessary,” he said, blowing a stream of smoke to the wind. He glanced down at the cigarette in his hand. “Where did you get these, Blaise?”

“Corner store,” came the reply. “In Muggle London right outside Diagon Alley. If you want, I could pick you up a pack or two.”

The blond thought about it as he took a drag. “Alright,” he said finally. “Pick me up a few and I’ll pay you back. Are you two staying here tonight?”

“I don’t see why not,” Blaise said as Theo answered, “I’ll have to see if Luna wants to stay. If she agrees, then, yeah.”

(IV)(IV)

Hermione had no idea where Draco had disappeared to, but at the moment, she wasn’t overly concerned. She laughed as Luna commented on the outfits the people wore. “I hope you’re not too offended by the things Theodore’s mother said tonight, Hermione,” the young blond said suddenly.

The Muggle born bit her bottom lip. “I’m not,” she replied truthfully. “If anything, I’m still in a state of shock over how I was defended by Mr. Malfoy and even Theo.” Her brows softened as she looked at her friend. “I do hope you’re being careful with him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone speak to their mother the way he spoke to her, but I do know that usually isn’t a good sign.”

Luna shrugged. “It’s common among old Pureblood families,” she explained. “The head of the house is always a male and if his mother is still living, she defers to him. Honestly, I thought it showed how much he’s matured to stand against such blatant bigotry.”

“I agree,” the brunette witch said. “I just don’t want to see you dig a hole you can’t crawl out of.”

Hermione glanced up as she saw Lucius approaching her. He inclined his head and offered her a soft smile. “Miss Granger, Miss Lovegood.” Hermione returned his smile while Luna just looked at him whimsically. “The celebration will be coming to a close shortly,” he told the girls, “however, there is an after party in the drawing room for…”

“Lucius, you better not be inviting those girls to your twisted games,” Narcissa warned as she stepped up to them.

The wizard gave her a sour look that reminded Hermione of Draco. “Miss Lovegood may not be able to come, but Miss Granger is of the age to make her own choice.”

“Choice on what?” Draco asked as he and the other boys entered from the balcony.

It amazed Hermione how he managed to appear from nowhere. As he got closer, though, her nose wrinkled. “Were you smoking?” she inquired, not quite believing the Pureblood would take up such a nasty Muggle habit.

Draco raised an eyebrow and looked to his father. “Choice on what?” he repeated.

Lucius held himself up. “I was just getting ready to ask Miss Granger if she would like to attend the after party since the celebrations are coming to a close.”

“No,” Draco said, his expression darkening. “Theo and Blaise will be staying here tonight and we were talking of having our own little after party in my suites.”

“You’re staying here tonight?” Narcissa asked the two Slytherins curiously.

Blaise nodded as Theo looked at his date. “If you would like to stay, Luna,” he said, though there was a question in his voice.

“I don’t mind staying,” she replied. “It’s really nice that you think I warrant the invite. I’ll have to owl my father to let him know where I am, but I don’t see it as a problem.”

Draco hadn’t taken his eyes off of his father, even when Hermione touched his shoulder. “I don’t understand,” the Muggle born said, her brow knitted in confusion. “What’s wrong with attending the after party your father is having?”

The two Malfoy men stared at one another, Lucius in amusement while Draco’s was a lot more sinister. Narcissa rolled her eyes and scoffed. Knowing that Hermione was safe now, the older witch turned away. “I have guests to attend,” she said as she left.

“It’s an orgy,” Draco stated, answering Hermione’s question, though never taking his eyes off of his father.

The man laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t quite call it that,” he said with a chuckle.

“A bunch of people in an enclosed space having sex with one another,” Draco defined. “That’s the very definition of an orgy.”

“Not everyone has sex, son,” the patriarch pointed out.

Draco waved a hand at the man and looked at his girlfriend. “You want to see what BDSM is all about, princess? Go with him.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “I think I’ll pass,” she stated carefully. “I do appreciate the offer, however, Mr. Malfoy. I’m just… Well, with Luna staying, I would prefer to spend some more time with her.”

The man inclined his head. “Of course, my pet. Do enjoy yourself with your friends and know that the offer remains should you change your mind,” he said.

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s go,” he said, taking Hermione’s hand and leading her out of the ballroom. The other Hogwarts students followed.

Author's Note: Ok. I'm just going to say what we're all thinking. Draco's a dick. Lol! Though, honestly, are we surprised? This scene still isn't done, btw. Still have at least one more chapter for this particular night. (Time for some fun. :) )

Severus1snape: And for that, I am very grateful. :)

Sherlocked17: Yeah, I've been meaning to get into his mind a bit. Hopefully we'll see some more of that in the coming chapters. (Especially when he meets Mum and Dad Granger.)

Coranassa: I thought people would get a kick out of that. It has the same affect as Neville in a Speedo for Draco, which, to me, is hilarious.
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The Dare