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To Be Himself	By : RavieSnake Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 11253 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters from it. I make no money from the writing/publishing of this story.

Chapter List
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“Oh gods,” Hermione groaned when a large farmhouse finally came into view.
“That’s it, I take it?” Draco said, turning the car onto a long, gravel drive that led up to the house at Hermione’s nod.
“And everyone’s already here,” she said dismally at the sight of the other cars parked beside the house.
“Tell me their names again,” he said.
“Aunt Imogen, Uncle Sal, Aunt Jude, Uncle Len, cousin Peg, cousin Isabelle, and cousin Jett,” she answered. “This is Sal and Imogen’s house. Aunt Imogen and Aunt Jude are my father’s sisters. They weren’t especially close. In fact, he…”
She made a small nostalgic noise. “…he used to call them the ‘wicked witches.’”
Draco watched her lose herself in some sort of reminiscence for a second and then shake her head.
“Where was I…oh right,” she went on, “So, Sal and Imogen hate each other, but are both too stubborn to get divorced. Jett is their son. He’s big, mean and stupid. Jude and Len are married. They’re happy together but are very snobbish and blunt. Peg and Isabelle are their daughters. Twins. They’re shallow and catty. They’ll probably hit on you…in front of me.”
Draco brought the car to a stop next to one of the others and set the brake. “Who’s the alpha?” he asked. Hermione snorted as she grabbed their bags from the back seat.
“Aunt Imogen is definitely the matriarch. If you’re in her good graces then everyone else sort of follows suit and accepts you. Well…not Sal. He’ll probably try and make you miserable and unwelcome regardless just because he is. No one likes him. Anyway…” she sighed dramatically. “Imogen’s never liked me.”
“Why not?” he asked curiously.
Hermione frowned up at the house. “She’s really narcissistic. Mum and Dad never had the patience for it and she and they used to row horribly. Now that they’re gone… she’s transferred her disdain to me.”
Draco hummed as he too looked up at the house. “How about we go and meet this charming lady.”
Hermione played anxiously with the strap of her bag between her fingers. “Look, Malfoy,” she said quietly, “I…I know I’m paying you and all, but I want to thank you in advance for agreeing to do this. I realize you’re giving up Christmas with your own family and possibly whatever witch you’ve got a fancy for and I…”
She paused and looked up at him. “Just…thanks.”
Draco shrugged. “My family’s not big on Christmas,” he said, “just me and my parents anyway and my father’s not speaking to me at the moment so…it’s fine.”
“I’m sorry,” Hermione began to offer, but he waved her off.
“I’m not.”
He adjusted his own bag on his arm and then made to open his door. “Are you ready then?” he asked her. Hermione glanced back at the house and, with a huge breath in, nodded. She swiftly exited the car and waited as Draco came around it to her side.
“Put your arm in mine,” he said quickly out the side of his mouth as the front door of the house opened and an auburn haired woman peered out at them with a shrewd expression as they started up the front walk. Hermione immediately took his arm at his commanding tone and let him lead her.
“That’s Imogen,” Hermione whispered discreetly. Draco hummed in acknowledgement and then glanced at the large front window where three women with pointed faces had appeared and were looking out and motioning to Draco’s car while obviously speaking in hushed tones to each other.
“Jude, Peg, and Isabelle?” he whispered back with a tiny nudge of his arm against Hermione’s ribs to bring her attention to the window. She furrowed her brow at them but gave a nearly imperceptible nod.
“Hermione,” her aunt called out to them, “you remembered where we live.”
“Delightful greeting,” Draco muttered under his breath. Hermione stifled a snigger as they ascended the front steps to come before Imogen.
“Aunt Imogen,” Hermione said cheerfully, “so good to see you again.”
The woman barely acknowledged her greeting and cocked a brow as she looked her over.
“Well, it looks like you’ve been eating well,” she said snidely.
Hermione’s smile faltered slightly and she felt Draco’s arm tense against hers.
“I’ve been eating like I norm-”
“You didn’t mention that you’d be bringing a guest,” Imogen interrupted reproachfully, her brown eyes narrowing at Draco. “We only prepared one room.”
“Sorry,” Hermione began, “Aunt Imogen this is-”
“For the love of Christ woman, let them in the damn house before you berate them for their rudeness!” a man’s voice shouted from within the house. Imogen rolled her eyes and stepped back to holler back inside.
“So help me, Sal,” she yelled, “you will not blaspheme in my house!”
“My house too goddam it!” came his response as Imogen glared hatefully into the house at him.
Draco cast Hermione a wide-eyed look and she gave him an apologetic grimace that she quickly schooled back into a smile when Imogen looked back at them.
“Might as well come in,” she said to them, opening the door wider to allow them in. “Hurry up…you’re letting the heat out.”
Draco and Hermione both hurried inside and quickly stepped to the side as Imogen slammed the door shut.
“Who’s the pretty boy?” a young, heavy-set man with dark, beady eyes and spiked brown hair asked as he walked up to them while the other members of the family did the same.
“Jett,” Hermione said with a nod to him before looking around at the others, “Everyone. This is my boyfriend Draco. Draco Malfoy.”
Jett snorted. “Draco? What kind of a freak name is that?”
Hermione sucked in a breath and looked eagerly at Draco for his response. The blond merely smiled.
“It means ‘dragon’,” he said calmly.
“Malfoy?” Jude spoke up from beside her daughters, “Are you French?”
Draco continued to smile. “I have a chateau in France, but my family’s from Wiltshire.”
The younger women beside Jude both glanced excitedly at each other.
“Is that really your car outside?” one of them asked.
“Are you rich?” asked the other.
“Girls,” Jude admonished them before Draco could respond. Peg and Isabelle both gave their mother a pout as Imogen interjected herself back into the fray.
“Your parents named you dragon?” she asked referring back to her son’s inquiry.
“My father thought it would make me sound powerful,” he nodded easily.
Jett scoffed at him. “You don’t look very powerful,” he said, looking him over with a shake of his head.
One of Draco’s brows ticked upward. “Well, I suppose that means I’ve got the element of surprise on my side then don’t I?”
Jett looked perplexed by the statement but an impressed chuckle floated up from the thin, bespectacled man with perfectly parted and oiled black hair at the back of the group.
“The man knows how to talk,” he said, pushing forward past his daughters. “Aren’t you going to introduce us all?” he asked, looking expectantly at Hermione.
She smiled at her uncle. “Of course,” she said, taking a small step closer to Draco, “Draco, this is my Uncle Len…”
“Pleasure,” Draco said, reaching forward to shake the man’s offered hand. Len returned a scheming smile and Hermione pointed to the next person.
“This is my Aunt Jude…”
Jude didn’t offer her hand and simply raised her chin at him.
“Charmed,” Draco nodded back at her. She pursed her lips, but looked approving.
“And these are my cousins,” Hermione went on, motioning to the raven-haired twins wearing heavy eye make-up and tight dresses, “Peg and Isabelle.”
The girls each held out a hand and Draco took one in each of his own and bent over them. “Ladies,” he practically purred, setting a kiss to each of their knuckles. The two girls retracted their hands and then pressed their heads together in a fit of quiet giggles and whispers.
Hermione frowned at the interaction and turned to Draco so her family couldn’t see her face.
“What are you doing?” she hissed at him angrily. Draco smirked at her.
“I’m being myself,” he whispered back with a wink.
“It’s rude to whisper,” a squat, balding man wearing denim coveralls blurted out as he waddled into the mix. He scowled at Draco. “And is Mr. Invite-myself-over-fancy-car going to actually stay or are you just going to loiter about in my front hall in your coats all day?”
“And this is Uncle Sal,” Hermione said cheerily despite the man’s awful demeanor. Draco offered out his hand and Sal wrinkled his nose at it.
“You queer?” the man sneered.
“I’m sorry?” Draco said, pulling back his hand. Hermione bit her lip anxiously as she began to unbutton her coat and watched Draco’s face.
“Isn’t he charming?” Imogen scowled sarcastically in her husband’s direction.
“Not the word I’d use, no,” Draco said as he followed Hermione’s lead and tugged off his coat. He laid it over the arm that was holding his travel bag and looked back at Sal who simply glared at him.
“You gonna answer me, Dirk?”
Draco shook his head. “No, I don’t think I will.”
Peg and Isabelle both sniggered and Len, Jude, and Imogen all exchanged amused glances as Sal simmered.
“You’re in my house, boy,” Sal said in a threatening tone.
“I know,” Draco replied politely, “and I’m appreciative of your hospitality, Sam.”
“The name is Sal not Sam,” the older man said crossly.
“Oh,” Draco said nonchalantly, “my apologies. I thought perhaps it was some tradition of yours to make up names for one another. After all, you called me Dirk when Hermione very obviously introduced me not two minutes ago as Draco.”
Sal blinked at Draco with astounded eyes as the hovering family members made no attempt to hide their glee and Hermione stared on in disbelief.
“No,” the man finally said curtly, “that is not a tradition here.”
Draco smiled and patted Sal on the back. “Well then between the name mix-up and asking me if I’m queer when Hermione clearly stated I was her boyfriend, I’d say it’s time to get the hearing checked, Sal old boy,” he said with a wink. Sal began to splutter indignantly, but Draco merely turned to a grinning Aunt Imogen.
“And who is this lovely creature?” he asked, offering out his hand.
Hermione took a calming breath but said, “Draco, this is my Aunt Imogen.”
Draco gave her a brilliant smile as he gently but firmly grasped her fingers.
“Aunt Imogen,” he said respectfully with a bow, “it is a pleasure to meet you at long last. Hermione’s told me many wonderful things.”
Imogen’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Has she now?”
Draco nodded. “She couldn’t wait for me to meet you all.” He suddenly sniffed the air.
“Something smells delightful,” he said to her, “you must be cooking already.”
Imogen’s brows rose slightly with renewed interest in him. “Oh? What makes you think I’m the one cooking?”
Draco pulled a slightly confused face and glanced back and forth between her and Hermione before meeting Imogen’s eyes again. “Well…I…I just assumed. Hermione told me you were the best cook in the family. She went on and on for an hour about how much she enjoys your dinners every year. Did you relinquish your cooking crown to another?”
Imogen preened at Draco’s words and then turned her expectant gaze to Hermione. Hermione looked at her sheepishly a moment and then gave her a tentative smile.
“Jett,” Imogen said over her shoulder as she looked smugly back and forth at Hermione and Draco, “take their things up to their guestroom.”
“What?” Jett demanded, uncrossing his arms. She reached forward and took the bag and coat off Draco’s arm and leaned over to take Hermione’s as well.
“Take these up for them,” she ordered again, thrusting the bags and coats at her slouching son.
“Why can’t they take them up themselves?” he grumbled. “Why do I gotta?”
Imogen arched a condemning brow at him. “Because,” she said, “you’ve never complimented my cooking before.”
“I love your cooking,” he offered sulkily.
“Clearly,” Draco said, looking the large man very obviously up and down. There were several gasps from the others at that, but Imogen merely laughed and placed a hand to Draco’s upper arm as Jett tromped loudly up the nearby stairs.
“Do you like salmon, Draco?” Imogen asked him tweely.
“I adore salmon,” he said, allowing himself to be separated from Hermione as her aunt ushered him into the kitchen. Hermione watched them go and then turned back to the others who were all glaring at her.
“Happy Christmas?” she shrugged awkwardly.
“He’s too hot for you,” Peg said. Isabelle nodded in agreement.
“He’s obviously from a higher class of breeding,” Len said approvingly then sniffed at Hermione, “How’d he end up with you?”
Hermione balled her fists at her sides but maintained a thin smile. “We went to school together,” she said, “we reconnected when I started working with his company.”
“Office romance,” Jude said with a knowing look at her sneering daughters. They all rolled their eyes as if in on a secret joke. Jude looked back at Hermione. “I assume you’re his secretary?”
Hermione’s smile pursed to a thin line. “Not quite. I said I work with his company, not for. I’m a government liaison. I manage all of his connections and appointments with-“
“Bor-ing,” Jett called out obnoxiously as he lumbered back down the stairs to join them. He purposefully bumped her hard in the shoulder as he passed to go into the family room. “No one cares about your stupid office job, nerd.”
Hermione rubbed at her shoulder and glared at him as he retreated into the other room.
“Excuse me,” she said to the others before heading to the kitchen. She pushed open the kitchen door to find Draco, an hors d’oeuvre in each hand and chewing a third, being doted upon by her aunt.
He smiled at her around his bite and held up one of the crackers with pâté in his hands. “Hermione, love,” he said after he swallowed, “you were right. Your aunt’s cooking is exquisite. Come…have one.”
“I don’t know about exquisite,” Imogen simpered with false modesty. She turned to her niece. “Why have you never said anything about how much you enjoy my food before?”
Hermione simply blinked at her and Draco intervened.
“She’s shy,” he said.
Imogen hummed skeptically. “She’s never been afraid to voice her opinions before,” she said.
“Really?” Draco said, feigning ignorance as he went to Hermione’s side. He handed her one of his crackers and then hugged his arm around her waist. “She’s always been rather coy with me. I had to wait ten years just for her to ask me out. ”
“Well, she always was a bit slow,” Imogen said, not noticing Hermione’s incensed glare. The older woman came up to them with a platter full of more appetizers. “But it looks as if she’s finally found some sense.”
She thrust the tray out at Hermione who grabbed it clumsily with the one hand that didn’t have the cracker. “Make yourself useful and take these out to the others,” she ordered before smiling at Draco again. “Would you care for a tour of the house?”
“I should be delighted,” he said, removing his arm from Hermione to hold it out to her aunt.
Hermione glared at Draco's back as he slipped away from her side and disappeared with her aunt to take their tour.
"I am not shy and your food is terrible," she said fiercely to herself now that no one was within earshot and she was free to speak the truth. "Fucking binding vow," she muttered as she pushed back into the front hall with the platter in her hands, “what’s he playing at?”
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To Be Himself