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The Joke Book Trap	By : TalisRuadair Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 10791 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Series (1997-2007) and any characters and original locations within the books belong to JK Rowling. I am not making any money from this fiction. Pride and Prejudice belongs to Jane Austen.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Chapter Thirteen – Facing one’s Nightmares

George read through the story and was surprised by the thoughts that went through Malfoy’s mind. He couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. He was on the wrong side, but he didn’t really have a choice. He was shocked that the ferret was mourning the death of Fred, as well. Thinking of his twin caused tears to form in his eyes. How was he supposed to continue with the joke shop without him? Ron had stepped in to help with it, and he was surprisingly quite clever, however he was no replacement for Fred. Ron was also busy with Auror training on top of helping with the shop. He was so busy that he didn’t have time for a long distance relationship with Hermione.

George paced back and forth across the small flat he once shared with Fred. He tried to find ways to memorialize his twin. He knew that if Fred were a ghost, he’d have a smile on his face. Fred would ask him why he wasn’t living life and would probably be mad that George wasn’t carrying on defusing the tension and making everyone laugh. He wouldn’t want him to spend so much time mourning his death because Fred would live on in everything George did. They were two halves of the same soul. It was just as likely that Fred wasn’t a ghost because he just reunited with the soul that split in the first place. If that were the case, then Fred was literally living on within him.

Took you long enough to figure that one out. Fred’s voice boomed in his head followed by his familiar laugh. George stopped pacing wondering if he just hallucinated. You’re not going crazy. Instead of worrying about going around a twist, you should try the disappearing fist. Go for a muggle right and watch your opponent flinch. Come on Georgie, show Ron the ropes and keep the dream alive.

He looked around the room, “Fred is that really you?”

No, you’ve gone completely nutters. If I knew my death would do this to you, I would’ve made sure Percy bit the dust instead. The laughter filling his mind was contagious.

“Why didn’t you show up before now? Why did you let me lose my sense of humor for so long? Why did you let me be so serious?” George set down the book.

Come on, watching you mourn me was the biggest joke of them all. If I’d showed up right away, you really would’ve checked yourself into a muggle padded room. No, I couldn’t have that now, could I? You never lost your sense of humor. You sent out those Joke Books to our friends and family after all. How is Percy enjoying his trip through Stephen King’s Misery? I really did think that one was fitting! So, have you read the part about the curse yet?

George’s eyes widened, “Curse?”

Ah, well you see. There was a curse placed on the Malfoy family by one of Hermione’s distant ancestors. She thinks the only way she can break it is to have a relationship with the ferret. You might want to bring that book to Bill and hope that he’s not trapped in The Lord of the Rings right now. We really shouldn’t have made that book, it was far too long. Then again, Bill always did love Middle Earth.

George rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I didn’t send him one. Like I wanted to deal with his backlash, he’s a curse breaker. He knows too many scary spells. However, I did send Charley Aragorn. I really hope he enjoys speaking with Dragons.”

Well, what are you waiting for? Bring that bloody book to our eldest brother. If anyone can assist Hermione with that curse it’s him. We can’t have her courting nor marrying the ferret now, can we?

George shivered, “Hermione Malfoy, that’s just so wrong on so many levels. Even if the prat changed, he will never be worthy of our Hermione.”

Yes well, neither is Ron. You see a great thing about being dead is that I can spy on anyone at any time. So, guess what? Our youngest brother is keeping a very dark secret. One worthy of Dumbledore, which I converse with frequently by the way, can you guess what that secret is?

George gasped, “Oh, please don’t tell me. You know, it makes sense now that I think about it.”

Hermione knew what was coming. Lavender and Ron returned back to Longbourn for a visit. Lavender pulled off a perfect Lydia as she explained the removal of her glove and showing off her ring. Hermione could only roll her eyes and act just as cool toward Ron. The more time she spent with Draco, the more she realized that Ron wasn’t the person for her. There was always something about the relationship that seemed a bit off. They kissed during the heat of the moment, but as she reflected on it, it seemed as though he was holding back. Hermione received the letter from her mother explaining Mr. Darcy’s involvement in Lavender and Ron’s marriage. Of course, it was after she sent her letter inquiring about something said. The letter she received back was a bit different than the original from the book. She couldn’t help but wonder if her presence was somehow affecting the characters in the novel. As there was a PS added to the end of the letter. It simply stated that Darcy was present at the wedding but seemed rather distant. He seemed to be mentally vacant and rather sad.

Hermione spent time wondering why Draco would act in such a way at a wedding. She was crying when she followed the scripting about the two running off, however it wasn’t for the same reason as Elizabeth in the book. She really didn’t care about what Lavender and Ron did. She knew in her reality that Lavender had died at the hands of Greyback, and something told her there was a key piece to the puzzle of Ron that she was missing. Something told her the two of them were better friends for a reason she had yet to place. She knew that she’d need to write that letter as soon as she escaped from the book. She needed to tell Ron what she was feeling. She only hoped that they could keep their friendship. Especially, since Ron couldn’t stand Draco, and she needed to be in his life or he’d be as broken as his father once the curse was done with him. Getting to know him, she started to care for the person hiding behind the cool and aloof mask. She was so sad being in that room with him because she knew that soon the story would be soon over and the two of them would return to their reality.

They were so isolated in the light book world they were living in. Everything could fall apart as soon as they were released. She needed to somehow find a portrait of Brutus that wasn’t at Pemberley. She needed to know what she had to do to save him. She could no longer deny her feelings for him. She cared about him and never wanted to see him hurt. He already saw so much darkness from the curse because he loved his mother. Something told her that the only way she could have the conversation with Brutus would be upon returning to Pemberley and her returning there meant she was far too close to the end of the book. What was going to happen as soon as the isolation disappeared and Draco was thrust back into his expectation riddled world? Would he marry a pure-blood witch to satisfy his parents’ desires, or would he even consider following his heart. She sighed. If he still had those feelings for her after she rejected him in the worse way.

Shortly after Lavender and Ron left, news of Bills return to Netherfield spread through town like wildfire. Professor McGonagall was present to inform her sister Molly and her daughters of the news. Hermione knew what his return would bring and she only hoped she could find the same happiness with Draco that Eliza found with Darcy. However, she knew that it would also bring a demon from her past. A skeleton she hoped to burry forever with one final confrontation.

On the third day after Bill’s return to Netherfield, Molly hollered for her girls to come watch his arrival from her dressing-room window, Fleur remained seated at the table, but Hermione joined her at the window. She made note of Draco’s arrival and retook her seat next to Fleur at the table.

Parvarti gasped, “There is a gentleman with him, mamma, who can it be?”*

Molly squinted at the window attempting to make the man out, however after a few moments of staring the man remained unrecognized. She dismissed him with a fluid hand movement, “Some acquaintance or other, my dear, I suppose; I am sure I do not know.”*

“La!” Parvarti chortled as she recognized the man. “It looks just like that man that used to be with him before. Mr. what’s-his-name. That tall, proud man.”*

Molly’s face went red with suppressed anger, “Good gracious! Mr. Darcy!—and so it does, I vow. Well, any friend of Mr. Bingley’s will always be welcome here, to be sure; but else I must say that I hate the very sight of him.”*

Fleur’s eyes swept over Hermione with surprise and concern. She knew all about her interactions with Mr. Darcy. Hermione knew the character Jane suspected her sister’s growing affection for the proud man. Hermione felt the warmth of her cheeks as a hope welled in her that Draco’s feelings remained undeterred after her horrible rejection of him. She smiled, “Let me first see how he behaves. It will then be enough for explanation.”*

Upon their appearance, Draco was much more ridged. He wasn’t as welcoming as he had been at Pemberley, however Hermione figured it was something similar to Eliza’s presumption regarding Darcy’s reason for the same response. Hermione figured that he was more comfortable around her parents as he had never met them in his reality, however Molly stood for something and he likely couldn’t feel comfortable around the Weasley Matriarch.

Hermione wanted to converse with Draco only, as there was so much she needed to discuss with him. However, she couldn’t risk being overheard, so she inconspicuously reached for her wand and whispered, “Muffliato.”

Draco looked over at her with a raised eyebrow, “I’m guessing there’s something not related to this story in which you wish to discuss.”

Hermione chuckled, “You’ve been her too long. You sound way to much like Darcy.” She noticed a pink tinge reaching his cheeks. “Yes, I do have something to discuss with you. How much do you know about your ancestor Marcus Malfoy?”

“I haven’t researched my family tree that extensively; however I do know he was one of the first to walk head long into the Dark Arts.” He stopped for a moment, “Wait, how do you know about my ancestry?”

Hermione took a deep breath and explained the conversation she had with the portrait of Brutus in the entry hall of Pemberley. His eyes widened many times and his mouth dropped open. When she finished he cleared his throat, “So, what you’re saying is the only way I can break the curse is by falling in love with you?”

Hermione nodded and went quiet. She didn’t know what else to tell him after spilling such burdensome news. Her attention snapped back to the conversations around them.

Molly was addressing Bill, “It is a long time, Mr. Bingley, since you went away.”* Bill quickly agreed, so she continued. “I began to be afraid you would never come back again. People did say you made to quit the place entirely at Michaelmas; but, however, I hope it is not true. A great many changes have happened in the neighbourhood, since you went away. Miss Lucas is married and settled. And one of my own daughters. I suppose you have heard of it; indeed, you must have seen it in the papers. It was in The Times and The Courier, I know; though it was not put in as it ought to be. It was only said, ‘Lately, George Wickham, Esq. to Miss Lydia Bennet,’ without there being a syllable said of her father, or the place where she lived, or anything. It was my brother Gardiner’s drawing up too, and I wonder how he came to make such an awkward business of it. Did you see it?”*

Bill stated he did see it and offered some congratulations before Molly continued. “It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter married, but at the same time, Mr. Bingley, it is very hard to have her taken such a way from me. They are gone down to Newcastle, a place quite northward, it seems, and there they are to stay I do not know how long. His regiment is there; for I suppose you have herd of his leaving the Hertfordshire, and of his being gone into the regulars. Thank Heaven! He has some friends, though perhaps not so many as he deserves.”*

Hermione felt herself cringe at Molly’s words. She was very aware of everything and the dig at Mr. Darcy’s character was totally uncalled for but best painted their mother’s misdirected opinions. Hermione did her part by asking Bill if he had any plans of staying in the country for a bit. He responded that he was planning on staying for a few weeks he believed.

Molly’s voice took on a chipper one that resembled too closely to Pansy Parkinson’s or Lavender’s girlish pitch. Hermione fought the need to clear her ears with a rude gesture. “When you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley, I beg you will come here, and shoot as many as you please on Mr. Bennet’s manor. I am sure he will be vastly happy to oblige you, and will save all the best of the covies for you.”*

She invited them to dinner at Longbourn in a few days. “Your are quite a visit in my debt, Mr. Bingley, for when you went to town last winter, you promised to take a family dinner with us, as soon as you returned. I have not forgot, you see; and I assure you, I was very much disappointed that you did not come back and keep your engagement.”*

Bill looked a little abashed by her statement and quickly explained that business kept him from keeping it.

A few days after the dinner, Bill arrived at Longbourn alone. He informed them that Darcy had left for London but would return ten days later. He sat with them for a bit and Molly invited him to dinner but he stated that he was previously engaged. She invited him for the following day and he accepted. He arrived so early the following morning that none of the ladies had the opportunity to dress. Molly was running around the manor like a chicken with her head cut off. “My dear Jane, make haste and hurry down. He is come—Mr. Bingley is come. He is, indeed. Make haste, make haste. Here, Sarah, come to Miss Bennet this moment, and help her on with her gown. Never mind Miss Lizzy’s hair.”

Fleur ushered their mother out of the room, “We will be down as soon as we can, but I dare say Kitty is forwarder than either of us, for she went up stairs half an hour ago.”

Molly continued to flit around, “Oh! Hang Kitty! What has she to do with it? Come be quick, be quick! Where is your sash, my dear?”

After tea, Arthur retired to the library, Luna went upstairs to practice her instrument, which left Molly with two more obstacles before Fleur and Bill would be left alone. Hermione knew exactly what she was doing and had to hold back laughter at her foolishness. She sat there winking at both she and Parvarti for an extended amount of time. Hermione pretended not to see and when Parvarti did notice her she inquired, “What is the matter mamma? What do you keep winking at me for? What am I to do?”

“Nothing child, nothing. I did not wink at you.” Molly tried to hide her blush at having her attempts at inconspicuous manipulation being brought to light. She waited for five more minutes before she suddenly got up and turned to Parvarti, “Come here, my love, I want to speak to you,” and took her out of the room.

Fleur eyes widened as she looked upon Hermione and reminded her of a deer caught in the headlights. Hermione tried to assure her that she wouldn’t give into her mother’s manipulation; however she knew that she wouldn’t be able to stay for too long before she was forcibly removed from the room by Molly. A few minutes later Molly half opened the door, “Lizzy, my dear, I want to speak with you.”

Hermione shot an apologetic look at Fleur before leaving. Upon reaching Molly in the hall, the red headed woman explained, “We may as well leave them by themselves you know; Kitty and I are going upstairs to sit in my dressing-room.”

Hermione remained in the hallway after the other two went upstairs. Bill was much like his character and accepted the invitation to stay for supper. He was very punctual with his appointment with Arthur and the two spent the morning together. Hermione went to write a letter in the breakfast room and when she returned to the Drawing Room, upon opening the door, she noticed the two standing together near the hearth. Hermione was about to leave the room when Bill quickly whispered something to Fleur before exiting the room. Fleur quickly ran to Hermione and embraced her, “‘Tis too much! By far too much. I do not deserve it. Oh! Why is not everybody as happy?”

Hermione delighted and gave her congratulations filled with all of her emotion. Fleur decided she couldn’t remain with Hermione any longer, “I must go instantly to my mother; I would not on any account trifle with her affectionate solicitude; or allow her to hear it from anyone but myself. He is gone to my father already. Oh! Lizzy, to know that what I have to relate will give such pleasure to all my dear family! How shall I bear so much happiness!”

Jane ran upstairs and Hermione remained in the room to think about how things came together so quickly once Darcy realized the feelings were shared by both. A few moments later Bill joined her as his conversation with Arthur was quick and to the point. His only words, “Where is your sister?”

Hermione smiled, “With my mother upstairs. She will be down in a moment, I dare say.”

He shut the door and expressed his happiness of having her as a sister. She shared her delight with him as well. The house was filled with excitement as the news spread like a tipped lantern spills fire. The rest of the evening passed wonderfully. Arthur didn’t share his feelings until after Bill left. He smiled warmly, “Jane, I congratulate you. You will be a very happy woman.”

Fleur approached him, kissed him, and thanked him for his kindness. He continued with his speech, which he was less known for than his wife. “You are a good girl; and I have great pleasure in thinking you will be so happily settled. I have not a doubt of your doing very well together. Your tempers are by no means unlike. You are each of you so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; so easy, that every servant will cheat you; and generous, that you will always exceed your income.”

Fleur smiled, “I hope not so. Imprudence or thoughtlessness in money matters would be unpardonable in me.”

Molly gave a wine, “Exceed their income! My dear Mr. Bennet, what are you talking of? Why he has four or five thousand a year, and very likely more.” She then turned to Fleur, “Oh! My dear, dear Jane, I am so happy! I am sure I shan’t get a wink of sleep all night. I knew how it would be. I always said it must be so, at last. I was sure you could not be so beautiful for nothing! I remember, as soon as ever I saw him, when he first came into Hertfordshire last year, I thought how likely it was that you should come together. Oh! He is the handsomest young man that ever was seen!”

About a week after Bingley’s engagement, he was sitting in the dining room together when their attention was drawn to the window. The sound of a carriage could be heard even though it was far too early for a visitor and they weren’t expecting anyone. Hermione let out a small gasp. She knew what was coming and she tried to gather up all of her Gryffindor Courage to face the visage of her nightmares. She was prepared to see the worst of the dead crazy witch one last time and perhaps by facing her in the lighter reality she currently existed; then perhaps she could overcome whatever was subconsciously causing her nightmares. Perhaps she’d no longer feel so helpless in her presence, and find the strength to fight for her and Draco’s budding relationship.

Bellatrix strolled into the room in the finest dress and looking to intimidate those around her. Her voice betrayed her true feelings as she spat, “I hope you are well, Miss Bennet. That lady, I suppose, is your mother.”**

Hermione replied quietly that she was as she tried to keep her mind from the events that occurred in the parlor of Malfoy manor a few months prior.

Her dark eyes fixed on Parvarti, “And that I suppose is one of your sisters.”**

Molly stood up to her with almost as much zeal as she had at Hogwarts when she dueled the bint and wiped away her existence with the killing curse, but still keeping a pleasant tone, “Yes, madam. She is my youngest girl but one. My youngest of all is lately married, and my eldest is somewhere about the grounds, walking with a young man who, I believe, will soon become a part of the family.”**

Bellatrix upturned her nose, “You have a very small park here.”**

Molly spoke once more, “It is nothing in comparison of Rosings, my lady, I dare say; but I assure you it is much larger than Sir William Lucas’s.”**

The dark haired witch continued with her veiled insults, “This must be a most inconvenient sitting room for the evening, in summer; the windows are full west.”**

Molly assured her that they never sat in the room after dinner and continued, “May I take the liberty of asking your ladyship whether you left Mr. and Mrs. Collins well.”**

Hermione continued to watch the conversation with dread pooling in the bottom of her stomach. The woman who haunted her dreams for nearly a year answered, “Yes, very well. I saw them the night before last."**

Molly offered her some refreshments but the hag declined rudely before turning to Hermione, “Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish kind of a little wilderness on one side of your lawn. I should be glad to take a turn in it, if you will favour me with your company.”**

Molly chuckled showing that she wasn’t the Weasley Matriarch, as she willingly sent one of her sheep off to be slaughtered in the hands of a mad woman, “Go, my dear, and show her ladyship about the different walks. I think she will be pleased with the hermitage.”**

Hermione followed her part and ran into her room to retrieve her parasol and attended to her ladyship downstairs. She wanted to curse George with every curse she could think of that wasn’t an Unforgiveable one. She was so upset with having to confront such a woman, a woman who could no longer hurt her because she was dead, but yet a vial woman who would never be fully removed from her memory. Sadly she left her mark with the scar on Hermione’s left forearm. She remained silent as they walked. As soon as they entered the copse the most eager follower of Voldemort spoke, “You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my journey hither. You own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I come.”**

Hermione attempted to keep her composure with being faced with such a horrible enemy once more, “Indeed, you are mistaken, Madam. I have not been at all able to account for the honour of seeing you here.”**

Bellatrix’s eyes were filled with a familiar craziness that was lacking in the past meetings. It chilled Hermione to the bone as she spoke in an all too familiar angry tone, “Miss Bennet, you ought to know, that I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere you may choose to be, you shall not find me so. My character has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a most alarming nature reached me two days ago. I was told that not only your sister was on the point of being most advantageously married, but that you, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would, in all likelihood, be soon afterwards untied to my nephew, my own nephew, Mr. Darcy. Though I know it must be a scandalous falsehood, though I would not injure him so much as to suppose the truth of it possible, I instantly resolved on setting off of this place, that I might make my sentiments known to you.”**

Hermione was angered at the woman’s presence and her aforementioned insults, but she stuck with the script instead of pulling her wand, “If you believed it impossible to be true. I wonder you took the trouble of coming so far. What could your ladyship propose by it?”**

“At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted.”**

Hermione’s voice dripped with coldness reminiscent of the arctic circle in the winter, “Your coming to Longbourn, to see me and my family, will be rather a confirmation of it; if, indeed, such a report is in existence.”**

Bellatrix’s voice took on her teasing lilt, “If! Do you then pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been industriously circulated by yourselves? Do you not know that such a report is spread abroad?”**

“I never heard that it was.”** Hermione found herself holding her wand under the sleeve of her dress for comfort as she faced the worst person on the planet only second to Voldemort.

“And can you likewise declare, that there is no foundation for it?”**

“I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your ladyship. You may ask questions which I shall not choose to answer.”** Hermione had to hold back a smile. Standing up to Bellatrix in such a way fell so freeing and almost as good as punching Draco in their third year.

“This is not to be borne. Miss Bennet, I insist on being satisfied. Has he, has my nephew, made you an offer of marriage?”**

Hermione smirked, “Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible.”**

Redness colored the woman’s cheeks as she fumed, “It ought to be so; it must be so, while he retains the use of his reason. But your arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation, have made him forget what he owes to himself and to all of his family. You may have drawn him in.”**

“If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it.”** Hermione took great enjoyment in watching the colors of Bellatrix’s face change and her features contort. It was remarkable similar to that as an enraged Ron. Her mind flitted to the idea of Ron in a dress and had to suppress the giggles that threatened to erupt from her.

“Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I have not been accustomed to such language as this. I am almost the nearest relation he has in the world, and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns.”**

The moment of humor passed as her voice chilled once more, “But you are not entitled to know mine; nor will such behaviour as this, ever induce me to be explicit.”**

“Let me be rightly understood. This match, to which you have the presumption to aspire, can never take place. No, never. Mr. Darcy is engaged to my daughter. Now what have you to say?”**

“Only this; that if he is so, you can have no reason to suppose he will make an offer to me.”**

Bellatrix hesitated for but only a moment, “The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy, they have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish of his mother, as well as of her’s. While in their cradles, we planned the union: and now, at the moment when the wishes of both sisters would be accomplished in their marriage, to be prevented by a young woman of inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to the family! Do you pay no regard to the wishes of his friends? To his tacit engagement with Miss de Bourgh? Are you lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy? Have you not heard me say from his earliest hours he was destined for his cousin?”**

Hermione found far too much familiarity in the speech of her enemy. It spouted the same racist ideals of blood supremacy, but only on a slightly different level. As in either reality she was of an inferior birth, but she was of superior intellect, “Yes, and I have had heard it before. But what is that to me? If there is no other objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not be kept from it by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him to marry Miss de Bourgh. You both did as much as you could in planning the marriage. Its completion depended on others. If Mr. Darcy is neither by honour nor inclination confined to his cousin, why is not he to make another choice? And if I am that choice, why may not I accept him?”**

Hermione couldn’t help but notice the nice shade of purple the woman’s face turned as she spat, “Because honour, decorum, prudence, nay, interest, forbid it. Yes, Miss Bennet, interest; for do not expect to be noticed by his family or friends, if you willfully act against the inclinations of all. You will be censured, slighted, and despised, by everyone connected with him. Your alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentioned by any of us.”**

She made her voice sickly sweet only to egg the woman on more, “These are heavy misfortunes. But the wife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation, that she could upon the whole, have no cause to repine.”**

The woman before her lost what little decorum she had left as she yelled, “Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you! Is this your gratitude for my attentions to you last spring? Is nothing due to me on that score? Let us sit down. You are to understand, Miss Bennet, that I came here with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose; nor will I be dissuaded from it. I have not been used to submit to any person’s whims. I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment.”**

“That will make your ladyship’s situation more pitiable; but it will have no effect on me,”** Hermione’s voice raised as well as she held her wand even tighter.

“I will not be interrupted. Hear me in silence. My daughter and my nephew are formed for each other. They are descended, on the maternal side, from the same noble line; and, on the father’s, from respectable, honourable, and ancient—though untitled—families. Their fortune on both sides is splendid. They are destined for each other by the voice of every member of their respective houses; and what is to divide them? The upstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connections, or fortune. It is this to be endured! But it must not, shall not be. If you were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in which you have been brought up.”**

Everything in the speech seemed like a personal attack. Hermione couldn’t help but find similarities with her current predicament with Draco. She spoke with a resolve as strong as if she were facing Narcissa or Lucius Malfoy, which she was sure to encounter in the future if she were to pursue a relationship with their son. She spoke with an overwhelming confidence in her growing affections and a belief in the power of love, “In marrying you nephew, I should not consider myself as quitting that sphere. He is a gentlemen; I am a gentlemen’s daughter; so far we are equal.”**

“True. You are a gentleman’s daughter. But who was your mother? Who are your uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their condition.”**

“Whatever my connections may be if your nephew does not object to them, they can be nothing to you.”**

She impatiently stamped her foot on the ground and demanded, “Tell me once for all, are you engaged to him.”**

Hermione’s mind knew that she wasn’t at the present time but expected to be in the future. She held her tongue and gave a simple answer, “I am not.”**

A manic smile spread across her pointed features, “And will you promise me, never to enter into such an engagement?”**

Hermione shook her head, “I will make no promise of the kind.”**

“Miss Bennet I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find a more reasonable young woman. But do not deceive yourself into a belief that I will ever recede. I shall not go away till you have given me the assurance I require.”**

Hermione let out a puff of frustration before standing up tall, “And I certainly never shall give it. I am not to be intimidated into anything so wholly unreasonable. Your ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to marry your daughter; but would my giving you the wished-for promise make their marriage at all more probable? Supposing him to be attached to me, would my refusing to accept his hand make him wish to bestow it on his cousin? Allow me to say, Lady Catherine, that the arguments with which you have supported this extraordinary application have been as frivolous as the application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my character, if you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these. How far your nephew might approve of your interference in his affairs, I cannot tell; but you have certainly no right to concern yourself in mine. I must beg, therefore, to be importuned no farther on the subject.”**

Hermione rolled her eyes at the continued banter between her and Bellatrix. She listened to her bringing up the Ron and Lavender fiasco, along with many other accusations against her family and why her connections would be detrimental to Draco. She found her confrontation with the woman both boring and only responded as required until they reached the end. When the end of the conversation came she just walked away from the woman. Her wand in her hand the whole time, and she wasn’t expecting the woman to attempt to attack her when she turned her back. She felt the woman’s hand on her shoulder and she reacted quickly. With a few muttered spells the woman lay on the ground unconscious and in a full body bind. She smiled at herself and just left the woman to lie there for the time being. She smirked as she thought. No one messes with this witch. I shall never feel insignificant by another’s hands again. I am a Mudblood and proud to be one!

A/N: This is a rather long chapter and I kept going with the conversation between Catherine and Elizabeth, however it seemed a little too much. I think that at some point Hermione would check out. Also what do you think about the twin twist at the beginning. As always, reviews are welcome. I have ideas for what’s coming next. We’re nearing the end of the book. Stay tuned for the next chapter from Draco’s perspective. Also something’s going on with the Joke Book. Why else would Bellatrix actually attack her?

*All dialogued marked is quoted from *chapter fifty-five and **fifty-seven of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice(1813). The scenes are also derived from those chapters. The only things original to me are Hermione's thoughts.
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The Joke Book Trap