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The Tyger and The Lamb	By : crzydiamond Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 42083 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to Harry Potter in any way. No money is being made from this story

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
A/N- prelude to the wedding chapter which is long past due. Stay tuned to see the unhappy couple joined in matrimony.

Happy Birthday to You...

"Its just too bad, its just too sad, you don't want me now

But I'm gonna change your mind, someway, somehow"

-Marvin Gaye, "I Want You"

Hermione's birthday was on a Monday which meant that she got to celebrate it by herself as she hurried around her room, trying her best to get ready in a mere ten minutes. After reading a book on Magical Theory she'd found in the deep recesses of the Malfoy Library, Hermione indulged in a cup of gurdyroot tea (said to be supreme in its abilities to relax the drinker). Fifteen minutes later, she fell asleep and didn't awake until her personal house elf was vigorously shaking her, twenty minutes after her alarm had gone off.

“Bitsy, please stop doing that!” Hermione said in exasperation as she limped around on one high heeled foot, desperately searching for its patent leather twin. Bitsy had been banging her head against the wall once she realized her mistress was going to be late for work.

“I should have woke the misses earlier!” Bitsy cried out, hitting her head again for good measure.

Hermione only shook her head at the wailing house elf and instead focused her energy on leaving the Manor in record breaking time. She spotted the other shoe beneath her arm chair and breathed a sigh of relief. After slipping on the other pump, Hermione summoned her robes and her large stylish bag that was an early birthday present from Narcissa. Made of black, supple leather with shiny gold hardware, the bag looked like it belonged on the arm of a runway model, not hanging precariously on the shoulder of a Ministry employee. Nonetheless, it added a bit of glamor to Hermione's rather drab wardrobe and made the day a little brighter. Especially since, Hermione noted as she looked out of her french doors, it looked like rain.

After snapping out a final order at Bitsy that she must absolutely stop banging her head on the wall, Hermione threw a handful of floo powder into her fireplace and began what was, inevitably, going to be a very long day.

As usual the Ministry was flooded with high handed officials, common office workers and the occasional Wizengamot member drifting past, looking very solemn in heavy black robes. The Daily Prophet seemed to be extremely popular today as it was in nearly every pair of hands in the Atrium. It was actually unusual to see nearly everyone reading the piece of rubbish, Hermione noted. She was going to alter her route to buy a copy and see what all the fuss was about, but when she glanced down at her watch, she realized that she'd have to skip the menial gossip stories and hike it to the elevator.

“What in the Merlin?” she muttered to herself after managing to leap into a closing elevator stuffed to the brim with people. Once again, everyone seemed to be completely immersed in the newspaper. Ignoring an elbow digging painfully in her back, Hermione managed to stand on tip toe and see the morning headline before the elevator was whisked away on its magical route.

Malfoy ShotGun Wedding?

Hermione's heart fell to her feet as the elevator abruptly dropped two stories.

Whispers seemed to follow her everywhere, even after she arrived in her department with her coworkers whom she considered to be less involved in the gossip mill than the rest of the Ministry. Her department consisted mainly of labs for testing of new magical products, spells, and books and only had twenty employees, the smallest number out of any of the Ministry's sectors. Hermione was first in line for a promotion to become the Department Head upon her superior's retirement in a half a year. Besides the fact that everyone was a little star struck by her war hero status, Hermione got along well with everyone and the department had grown to become a little work family within the Ministry. So the fact that people were staring at her and whispering behind their hands was a little concerning.

Hermione was used to public criticism though, a la Rita Skeeter, and managed to wear a flawless mask of indifference as she made her way to her office. After only a couple of minutes of fidgeting with everything on her desk, Hermione decided that she had to read the article herself. Bertram Heins, a middle aged man with a perpetual lazy smile, walked past her door and she spied the newspaper rolled up, tucked beneath his arm.

“Bertram!” Hermione called out, quickly standing.

She heard his foot steps backtrack until his blue eyes were peeking around the corner and into her office. “Good morning Hermione,” Bertram said in his usual, bright voice. But there was a waver in his tone and Hermione knew exactly why.

“The Prophet,” she said after a moment. “I forgot to buy a copy downstairs. Have you finished reading yours?”

Bertram balked as she began to approach and turned a little pale. “Well um...you see...I-”

Hermione took the newspaper from the crook of his arm before he could protest. “Thanks!” she said amiably.

He didn't move and decided that watching her reaction to the story would be more amusing than going to fill up his cup of Hazelnut coffee.

Malfoy Shotgun Wedding?

The upcoming nuptials of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy have caused quite a recent uproar in the Wizarding Community, considering its ties to the Marriage Laws and the disappearance of Ronald Weasley. Draco Malfoy secured the hand of Hermione Granger just one week ago and it seemed as though their passion for each other spurred them to schedule the wedding as soon as possible.

But too soon? A source close to the couple told the Prophet that they suspected that there may be more to this rushed wedding than just a desire to join two of the biggest names in recent history together in blissful matrimony.

“If you ask me, she's pregnant,” says the source. “She has this prenatal glow about her- anyone can see it. And of course, with the Malfoys being rooted in pureblood tradition, they couldn't have their son's child born out of wedlock.”

Does this rumor fit the bill? Although magical means of testing pregnancy can confirm pregnancy within the first week of conception, its just too soon to tell. There are some who believe that perhaps Miss Granger is simply hiding her pregnancy.

Another source says, “She was the brightest witch of her age and graduated from Hogwarts with the highest N.E.W.T scores- is it too far fetched to believe that perhaps she's wearing some sort of glamour?”

Would the brightest witch of this age willfully deceive the public? When the Prophet questioned her best friend, Harry Potter, about the issue, he made no comment except the following- “If Hermione is bright enough to cast a complex glamour, don't you think she's bright enough to be able to cast a contraception charm?”

Indeed, Miss Granger's track record shows no inclination towards wanting to bear children. In fact, she told the Prophet just a year ago her thoughts on having children.“Children are wonderful but I don't see me having any at all in the near future.”

While the rumor mill is churning, this avid Granger fan does doubt this particular thread of gossip. Is Hermione Granger really pregnant, planning a shotgun wedding to cover up her and Draco Malfoy's indiscretions? Or is it really just a rumor?

Only time will tell.

Written by Glenda Bones.

For more on the Marriage Laws and eligible bachelor/etts go to page 7. For more details on the Granger-Malfoy wedding go to page 13. Coupons for half off pregnancy tests at Glinda's Low Cost Magical Clinic, see page 20.

Hermione's breathed a sigh of relief once she finished the article and thanked Merlin that the one journalist not out for her throat, decided to pick up the pregnancy story. She tutored Susan's younger cousin at Hogwarts and was a mentor for the girl when she was taking her O.W.Ls. She'd have to send a thank you note to Glenda. For once, a Prophet article presented both sides and took information from a “source” for granted.

Bertram was still standing by the door and awkwardly cleared his throat. “Not as bad as you thought eh?”

“Not at all,” Hermione replied with a small smile. “Usually the Prophet is just full of rubbish and I thought I was going to be thrown to the wolves.”

She stood and handed the newspaper back to Bertram and then accompanied him down to the break room so she could also get her morning coffee. It was empty, save for an intern and another female lab technician who were conversing over pumpkin pastries. Hermione was expecting whispers from them as well but they only greeted her and Bertram cheerily before asking about their respective weekends. Bertram began a long story about his trip to the countryside so Hermione decided to grab a doughnut or two to hold her over till the lunch hour.

“Hermione!” came the intern's smoky voice. Bertram frowned at the abrupt interruption. “Tell us about your weekend! Did you get your dress?”

Groaning around a bite of powdery goodness, Hermione chewed for a scarce moment and then answered with a grin. “I did actually. Its pretty gorgeous. Very low key and sort of informal.”

“I can't wait to go to the wedding!” said Helen, the lab technician. Narcissa had invited all the employees from Hermione's department to bulk up the guest list. It didn't hurt that all of them were nice, good people as well so Hermione had no qualms about involving them in her personal life.

And then, Helen added expectedly, “I can't believe the rumor in the Prophet! What nonsense!”

“Thanks Helen, I appreciate the rightful skepticism. If only everyone else had your level headed rationale.”

Bertram, who was looking through the pile of mail lying on the table in the corner, held up a stack of brightly colored envelopes. “These are for you Hermione. You didn't tell us it was your birthday!”

Hermione's cheeks reddened and she snatched the mail from his hands. “Er, its not important. I don't celebrate birthdays.” And before any of them could speak or protest, she quickly walked out of the door and barricaded herself in her office, ignoring all knocks on her door.

The cards were from the usual people. Her dad, grandparents, Harry, Ginny, Lavender, Pansy, the Weasleys and a couple of other friends nice enough to send something. Harry's gift was a ticket to an exhibition at a muggle museum she'd been raving about. The girls had bought her a certificate for a trendy little shop in Diagon Alley along with notes about how much they missed her. Her dad told her he was too wary of owl post to send anything more than a card so her present was waiting at the house for the next time she visited. Mrs. Weasley sent her a newlywed gift package which was really just a variety of her famous canned goods along with a framed picture of Hermione, Harry and Ron from their sixth year. From others, she also got chocolate, a pair of frilly socks, and a book of cleaning spells.

Of course, there was absolutely nothing from Draco, not that she was expecting a thing from him anyways. Since the day of the Greengrass brunch, Hermione barely saw her fiancee, only in passing moments when they happened to cross each others' paths in the Manor. She knew he had a huge case coming up in his firm (he was a lawyer for the biggest international wizarding law firm in the world) so it was no surprise that she saw less and less of him. She actually preferred it that way and hoped it would continue throughout the first year of marriage until they could get an annulment.

Besides, Malfoy should be the last thing she thought about. It was her birthday and things were going alright considering the extenuating circumstances. After reshuffling through her pile of cards, she noticed a small square envelope she must've overlooked in her excitement. It had no return address or name. When Hermione opened it, a note only said, in small, slightly sloppy handwriting, Happy Birthday Hermione. I'm so sorry.

And just like that, Hermione felt as though the Heavens had opened up and released its long held bowels right on top of her head.

Lunch was a forced and painful affair. Unfortunately, Hermione had agreed to go down to the Ministry food pavilion for lunch with some coworkers. The Pavilion's design was reminiscent of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, and like Hogwarts, it was the center of gossip and was the social hub of the Ministry. Adults resorted back to school days and segregated themselves in groups dictated by various aspects.

Most people from the same departments sat together but there was also a table full of blonde witches known as the Banshees because of their loud obnoxious behavior. A few stray members of the Wizengamot sat together, while the more uptight employees from International Magical Cooperation sat prim and proper in their seats. The aurors tended to group together and reminded Hermione slightly of the Quidditch players from Hogwarts. Most of the new recruits were young and very fit and were so very often the focus of attention from females and males alike.

As expected, many stared at Hermione when she walked in but quickly turned away when they realized she didn't seem fazed by the Prophet gossip. Everything was going fine until Alex Klein approached their table.

Tall, broad chested with a smile like a Hollywood movie star, Alex was an excellent specimen of what the male species should look like. Hermione was always reminded of Clint Eastwood when she saw him- classically handsome with a lot of ruggedness thrown in. He was smart, witty and very attractive. Two years ago, Lavender picked him as the perfect candidate to set Hermione up with on a blind date. They dined and wined, laughed, saw a flick and returned to Hermione's apartment for a nightcap. Everything was perfect, even the sex...until he orgasmed and screamed like a girl.

It was entirely off putting and Hermione being kind, thought that perhaps it was just a one time thing. She tried putting up with it a couple more times and had fun with him on their next five dates. But each time they had sex, it was the same thing. And she felt horrible for it, but the girly screaming just ruined his attractiveness and she just couldn't continue seeing him. He, unfortunately, still thought she was in love with him and used every possible opportunity to hit on her. His overt behavior was more embarrassing than flattering and Hermione had grown to dread his presence.

Alex was looking especially dashing in emerald green robes and sauntered over with that lopsided smile of his that made most girls go weak at the knees. “Long time no see Hermione. How is everything?”

Bertram, Helen and a few others paused in their conversation to listen but after receiving a glare from Hermione, continued talking about their latest project.

“Nothing Alex,” Hermione said, her tone reflecting her impatience. “Just eating lunch, like everyone else-”

“I saw the article this morning,” he immediately admitted, cutting her off. “Its not true is it?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Not that its any of your business, but no, the rumor is a total, blasphemous lie-”

“I'm also waiting for my invitation to your wedding.” He sounded as though he wanted an apology.

Why did he keep asking her questions without bothering to listen to her answers? “Thats because you weren't sent one. Narcissa Malfoy sent them out and considering er...our past, it wouldn't be exactly appropriate for you to be there.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, his face widening into his roughish grin. “Appropriate? Since when do you care about that?” The sexual innuendo wasn't lost on anyone.

“Since I got engaged,” Hermione replied through clenched teeth. Would she have to put it plain and simple for this idiot to understand that she wanted nothing to do with him?

“Oh come off it Hermione. You and I both know this isn't a marriage of affection but convenience. What harm would it do if I came to the wedding?”

If everyone around them was pretending not to listen before, they dropped the facade and were all actively tuned in to the Alex broadcast station as he publicly questioned her moral values. Between the Prophet article and Ron's note, Hermione was in no mood to deal with Alex. Her hand dropped to her side, twitching over the wand in her robe pocket. It was against the law to harm anyone in the Ministry, but it wasn't against the law to place a couple of well aimed joke hexes she picked up from the Weasley twins.

“You know Malfoy has some hussy on the side Hermione,” Alex continued, having lost any sense of propriety she thought he had. “It wouldn't hurt to go on a date or two with me, would it?”

Helen spoke up and defended her coworker. “Bugger off you ponce. She doesn't need your harassment on her birthday of all days.”

Alex's brow furrowed. “Birthday? How nice. And where is your fiancee on your birthday? Did he bother to send you anything?” The sarcasm in his voice made it evident that he thought Draco truly didn't give two flying fucks about her- which was true but it wasn't suppose to appear that way to the public.

Hermione fumbled around with an excuse for a moment, going over the different scenarios she could weave to obscure the fact that no, Draco didn't send her anything because he didn't know (or didn't care or had forgotten) that it was her birthday.

“That's none of your business,” she said. “I'm not one for shows of public affection and Draco knows that. He respects my wishes to keep my professional and private life separate.”

“They seem to overlap quite often, despite your efforts,” Alex responded. He wound a finger through a stray curl that escaped from the tight confines of her bun. She slapped his hand away and he laughed as if her attitude thoroughly amused him. “I love your fire Hermione. Its quite endearing.”

“Too bad you don't get a hint,” she countered smoothly. “I'm. Not. Interested.”

Alex flushed a light pink, surprised by her bluntness and then cleared his throat. “I just feel bad for you, is all. You don't even know what your fiancee is doing behind your back, Hermione. I only wanted to let you know.”

“Bullocks,” Hermione spat. Her coworkers gasped, because she rarely swore and when she did, it meant that something formidable and ominous was brewing inside of her and Merlin help the person she directed her anger towards when she blew up.

“You came over here,” she continued. “To try to show me what I'm missing by parading yourself around, thinking that because every other woman in the Ministry would like a piece of you, I must as well! I don't find you at all attractive and your pompous, improper attitude only adds injury to the insult of you trying to hit on me. So I swear, in Merlin's name, that if you ever approach me again, I'll overlook that little Ministry rule about harming fellow employees and hex you into oblivion!”

Luckily she had enough composure to keep her voice to reasonable level so only people in the immediate area heard her insult Alex. Hermione sat back, her breathing a little labored from her tirade, and looked at Alex with her lip curled into a sneer. His tanned skin had now gone the color of a crushed tomato which made him look all the more ridiculous than he already was. To her horror, Alex's grin returned after only a moment of silence.

“Like I said Hermione, I like your fire. Its one of the most appealing things about a woman.”

She was shocked and lost the words that were poised on her tongue. Hermione felt like Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice, unsuccessfully trying to ward off Mr. Collins' advances. What would it take for Alex to get the hint? The self centered arse hole was a lot of things but unintelligent was not one of them. How could he be so oblivious?

While dealing with Alex, Hermione failed to notice that her fiancee in question was striding across the Pavilion, face set in its usual stone cold expression. If the altercation between Hermione and Alex hadn't already attracted the attention of most of the employees, the approach of Draco Malfoy certainly did.

Draco finished early at the law firm and intended to return back to the Manor and continue his efforts in bedding his stubborn wife to be. But when he arrived home, it was only his mother who greeted him before berating him for being gone for so long. Before she could draw him into a conversation about wedding planning, the Daily Prophet was delivered by Icarus, who nearly took off Draco's finger when he reached over to untie the newspaper from the bird's leg (the familiar absolutely hated picking up the Daily Prophet as it put him in the path of all the other “common” birds in the Wizarding world).

Needless to say, when he smoothed out the paper on the table, Draco nearly had a heart attack. And when Narcissa saw the headline, the Malfoy matriarch actually fainted. While the House Elves fussed over his mother and brought her to her rooms, Draco was on the warpath. And the first person he needed to see was his supposedly pregnant fiancee. After apparating to the Ministry, Draco managed to avoid recognition until he stepped foot in the pavilion where his hair and scowl immediately marked him as the Malfoy heir.

Hermione's riotous hair, even when pinned back, was immediately noticeable. She was talking to a tall man with dirty blonde hair and Draco could tell, after hearing his obnoxiously loud laughter that it was Alex Klein, the piss rag that had caused so many headaches for Draco's new law firm by failing to adhere to Ministry protocol when dealing with international entities. He was arrogant with no reason to be, praised while having no real merit, and the worst strike against him, in Draco's opinion, was his brief relationship with Hermione. So when he saw Alex standing so close to his fiancee, bluntly flirting with her, Draco's blood began to boil. His anger reached new heights as he drew nearer and heard that the pathetic excuse of a wizard wouldn't leave Hermione alone, despite her publicly emasculating him.

“Look lovie, I know you like to act coy considering the circumstances but-”

“Is there a problem?” Draco interrupted, voice chilly, hands curled into fists by his side.

Alex was visibly startled and the color drained out of his face. “Malfoy, old chap. I was just mentioning to Hermione that I didn't receive an invitation to your wedding.”

Draco only raised an eyebrow and said in a low, threatening voice, “It was done on purpose Klein, believe me. And for good reason apparently. Is there a reason why you're harassing my fiancee?”

“Harassing?” Alex responded with an incredulous laugh. “I wouldn't call friendly chatting harassment.”

“I would,” Hermione spoke up. She then turned her narrowed eyes on Draco. “And what're you doing here? I thought you had a big case coming up.”

Draco ignored her question and stepped closer to the shorter wizard. “Let me make this clear for you. If I ever catch just a small hint that you've even spoken to her, I'll make you regret being born.”

Alex was the cowardly type who typically avoided confrontations when possible, especially when threatened by a very powerful man with many connections. Hermione wasn't worth the trouble- he did fancy himself falling for her at one point, after a couple of dates but he was no fool and knew, that now bedding her again was absolutely out of question, there was no reason to continue chasing her.

So he nodded and replied in a jovial voice, “No problem, mate-”

“I'm not your mate,” Draco said. “Leave.”

The other man didn't need to be told twice and retreated to his lunch table. Alex didn't look up for the rest of his meal and quickly left the Pavilion to nurse his wounds in private. Now that most of the mild drama was over, the other employees also returned to their lunches. If there wasn't a chance of a good duel then it wasn't worth losing a lunch hour over.

“We need to speak,” Draco demanded. “Privately.” Hermione could easily tell that although most of his anger was directed at Alex, he still had a reserve stored up somewhere for her. Why he was angry, she had no idea, but she knew that he had seen the Daily Prophet and was looking for answers.

“My office,” Hermione responded.

After saying goodbye to her coworkers, Hermione left the Pavilion with Draco Malfoy in tow. They drew the attention of nearly every person that passed them, as they walked through the Atrium towards the elevators. It was just the two of them as they lurched from side to side in the elevator compartment and the silence was almost painful. Though they'd spent many years apart, Draco Malfoy had changed very little and Hermione could easily tell that he was containing all that he wanted to say until they reached their destination. It just made her dread the impending conversation even more.

When they finally got to her office, Hermione put up a silencing charm on the room. “I'm just going to assume that you saw the Prophet this morning.”

“Yes.” He paused and leveled her with an intense stare. “You're not, are you?”

Hermione snorted. “Of course not Malfoy. Don't you think I would've used that against you to avoid being forced into marriage?”

It was obvious by his expression that he didn't wholly believe her. He stared at her with those pale eyes, his face expressionless. Slowly, his gaze moved from her face down to her stomach, that happened to look a little bulky because of her choice of clothing. Of course, on all days to decide on an oversized sweater and dress pants as an outfit suitable for work, an article about her supposed pregnancy is released. That morning Hermione had randomly chosen to wear one of the Weasley jumpers over large dress slacks cinched up high beneath her breasts. She did look a little pregnant, if she were honest with herself, but there was no way in Merlin's hell that she was. Her and Ron had barely gotten over the awkwardness of their friendship turned romance before he dissapeered. They hadn't even approached the subject of sex yet, though she assumed that they'd probably consumate the marrige. Too bad for her that the marriage never happened. A majority of her fantasies included a naked Ron passionately proclaiming his love for her.

“I don't know Granger,” Malfoy said, interupting her internal monologue. “Maybe Weasley knocked you up and ran off before you could pin it on him.”

“Like you're my next choice in a father for my non existent child?” Hermione asked incredulously. “Malfoy, you're the last person in the wizarding world that I'd want raising a child, let alone my own.”

The thought of Draco Malfoy stalking around with a toddler in tow birthed a mental picture so ridiculous that it made Hermione snort. The blonde scowled blackly at her. “If you're done laughing at your own nonsense Granger, there is the matter of gossip control we have to deal with.”

The seriousness in his voice wiped the grin off of her face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean Granger, that my parents aren't going to sit back idly as the family name is dragged through the mud.” He flicked a piece of white fluff from his suit sleeve. “I mean that you and I have an interview with the Daily Prophet tomorrow to combat these ridiculous allegations.”

Hermione shook her head. “I have work Malfoy and important projects that I need to supervise. Deal with it yourself. Besides, isn't it obvious who contacted the Prophet about me being pregnant?”

Astoria Greengrass's comment about a shotgun wedding at the brunch had caused some tension, to say the least. She understood that the younger girl was jealous for whatever reason but the bint was so transparent in her efforts to besmirch Hermione's name.

“I knew as soon as I read the article,” Draco said. “The Greengrasses knew as well because they sent a letter pleading for an audience with my parents.”

“And?” Hermione queried, raising an eyebrow. Did this mean another awkward dinner with high handed purebloods?

“My mother threw it in the fire. They'll probably send another one. She usually waits until the third plea to give in.” The word “usually” confirmed Hermione's thought that this was a common practice and had happened many times before.

The intricacies of pureblood hierarchy still baffled Hermione, though she'd learned a good bit of it during the war from Lucius. Although the Malfoys had lost a lot of power and respect when Voldemort fell, in the pureblood community, they were still in the upper echelon of society. A name as old and esteemed as theirs could survive various public humiliations and still have incredible influence upon those of lesser pedigree. The Greengrasses were purebloods but had only become wealthy in the past fifty years through some shady business ventures. So although their blood was “pure”, their wealth was not and consequently, they were not wholly respected among their peers. The whole thing sickened Hermione and made her glad that she didn't grow up in an environment governed by aristocratic machinations. It made her all the more thankful for her modest parents and modest upbringing.

As Draco opened his mouth to speak, probably to bully her into attending the interview, there was a loud explosion that shook the floor beneath them. Ripples of magical energy followed the physical jolt and Hermione immediately knew that on of the interns had messed with a certain potion that required extreme delicacy when handling the ingredients.

“Do you see now why I have to be at work to supervise?” Hermione snapped at Malfoy before pushing past him. When she opened the door, the silencing charm shattered and the sound of yelling, clattering, and crying immediately flooded her office. The yelling was probably from the employees. The crying was probably from the intern who was getting an earful.

“Granger-” he began.

“I have to go Malfoy!” she called out over her shoulder as she sprinted down the corridor. She could see a dark substance creeping from underneath the lab door and she immediately knew what she was in for.

Two hours and ten gallons of black goo later, Hermione stepped into the Ministry floo's to return to the Manor. It had taken nearly ten people to clean the mess and another three to calm the hysterical intern down. But at least the day was over and perhaps she could spend the rest of her birthday in relative piece. That is, until she felt the small, stiff card in her pocket and remembered Ron's sloppy handwriting.

Happy Birthday Hermione. I'm so sorry.

Where was he? And had he received the letter she sent?

The Manor seemed livelier than she expected when she tumbled out of the fireplace. Hermione could see a lot of bustling going on in the dining room from her place on the drawing room floor. Before she could straighten her clothes and wipe the soot from her pants, Narcissa was in front of her, pulling her to her feet. The blonde was dressed in lovely pale purple dress robes with her golden hair secured in an elegant knot atop her head.

“Hermione dear,” she said with a smile. “Happy Birthday darling.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, a little dumbfounded. Narcissa led her by the hand into the dining room which was more festive than usual. Beautiful orange plates rimmed in silver replaced the usual cream ones and there was a magical birthday banner strung across the wide doorway. In the middle of the table sat an elaborately iced cake with a myriad of different types of candle sticking out the top.

The most surprising thing was sitting at the other end of the table, next to Lucius. Hermione's father Richard was dressed in a blue dress shirt and black pants with one of his checkered ties nestled against his chest. He looked highly uncomfortable as he pulled at the neck of his shirt and looked around the grandiose dining area.

“Dad!” Hermione called out before she could help herself.

Richard's eyes lit up when he saw his daughter. He stood and opened his arms when she rushed over to him to give him a hug.

“Happy Birthday darling,” Richard said, holding Hermione at arms length.

“I wasn't expecting you to be here!”

“Well I received an owl from Narcissa,” her father explained. “So I decided to join for dinner. Plus I wanted to see the Manor you talk so much about.”

Hermione smiled at Narcissa. “Thank you.”

“Of course sweetling. It is your birthday.”

They all took their seats and sat in silence as the HouseElves filled their crystals classes with a sweet red wine that was fruity and heavy on the tongue. Richard glanced around the dining room once more- Hermione could tell her father was overwhelmed by the level of opulence the Malfoys lived in. She too had been overwhelmed when she first arrived at the Manor- although she knew they were rich, their muggle equivalent seemed to be much more gaudy and outlandish. Malfoy Manor had an air of timeless elegance about it and reminded Hermione of the series Upstairs, Downstairs which she used to watch with her parents.

“Where is your fiancee?” Richard asked once a pear and goat cheese salad had been placed before them. “I've yet to meet him.”

Narcissa cleared her throat, clearly annoyed by her son's absence. “He was supposed to be here promptly at five thirty-”

The front doors of the Manor opened and slammed shut and then there was the scurrying of elf feet followed by the louder footsteps of Draco.

“Here he is,” Lucius said with a small smirk.

Draco walked into the dining room, looking down at his wrists as he adjusted his cufflinks. He only looked up when Narcissa barked his name. He seemed surprised at one, the decorations and two, the man dressed in decidedly muggle attire sitting at the end of the table.

“What's going on?” he questioned.

“Isn't it obvious?” Narcissa snapped. “You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago Draco. Its Hermione's birthday!”

“I know that,” Draco said tonelessly. “I wasn't aware that we were having a special dinner with a guest.” He walked around the table to stand next to Hermione. He extended his hand to Richard. “I'm pleased to finally meet you Mr.Granger. I've heard a lot about you from Hermione.”

Her father stood, looking at his future son in law warily but he held out his hand all the same. “Likewise Draco.”

Once the two sat, the elves swarmed around Draco to get his plate setting up to date with everyone else's. He waved the elves away when they tried to fill his glass with wine. “Whiskey instead,” he said to Flinkey, a small girl elf with large blue eyes and tufts of brown hair. When she bowed, the blonde actually thanked her, which absolutely stunned Hermione. Since when did Draco thank anyone for their service?

Richard seemed emboldened by Draco's request and also asked for a glass of whiskey. “It's been a long day,” he said in a joking manner.

“Oh?” Narcissa said. “What exactly do you do Richard?” She knew what he did since Hermione spoke often about her parents but for conversation sake, she thought it best to force small talk.

“I'm a dentist,” Richard said. The Malfoys looked at him blankly. “Er, I fix people's teeth. When they have crooked teeth for example, I straighten them. Or if they have brown teeth, I whiten them. Or if there's a cavity, I clear out the rot.”

“How fascinating!” said Narcissa. “I always wondered how Muggles fixed their teeth without magic.”

“With a lot of money and time,” he replied, to which Narcissa laughed.

Lucius stared at Richard over the rim of his glass as he took a large swallow of wine. “That seems like a very tedious job,” he said, holding out his glass so that Flinkey could fill it.

“It is,” Richard agreed. “I'll be retiring soon enough.”

“Retire?” Lucius asked. “What does it mean to retire?”

“Well for the entire time I've owned my own dentist clinic, I've been putting money aside so that one day, I won't have to work at all. Many muggles do it so that by the time they're in their sixties, they can move away somewhere warm and don't have to worry about work ever again.”

“Sixty seems very young,” Draco interjected.

“Ah yes,” Richard said before Hermione could explain on his behalf. “Hermione told me that you wizarding folk live for much longer than we do. So I suppose our sixty would be around ninety or one hundred to you.”

They fell silent as the elves took away the salads and replaced it with plates of seared duck, steamed and seasoned asparagus, and rice mixed with cilantro and olive oil. Fresh baked bread rolls stood steaming in a silver bowl in the middle of the table.

They ate the rest of dinner in relative silence since everyone seemed more interested in the food than one another. Once the remnants of the main course were taken away, the elves replaced the red whine with sherry and sliced the enormous cake.

“Shall we sing Happy Birthday?” Narcissa asked enthusiastically. She didn't wait for anyone to reply and began the song to which Richard and the other House elves joined in. Lucius looked amused while Draco took pains to look like he was singing when he really wasn't.

While feasting on the cake, which was a delicious chocolate confection with a layer of pureed raspberry between its two tiers, Richard and Lucius surprisingly got into a conversation about muggle politics.

“I didn't know you followed muggle international affairs,” Hermione said incredulously around a mouthful of cake.

“Its much more interesting than our own at the moment,” Lucius replied in his usual arrogant drawl.

Draco got involved as well since his law firm often dealt with the muggle world. Meanwhile, Narcissa and Hermione discussed some final details about the wedding, including a few last minute additions to the guest list.

“The Greengrasses are begging to be put back onto the list,” Narcissa said with a small frown. “I can't believe their nerve, after what their daughter did to besmirch your name and ours.”

Hermione didn't disagree. She'd rather Astoria not be there- who knew, the girl may try to poison her at her own wedding.

When the cake and sherry was through, they moved to the drawing room where Hermione opened her presents by the fire. Her father gave her a myriad of things but the most important was a personalized golden locket with her name engraved on the back. Inside was a picture of her mother when she was young. Hermione looked a good deal like her mother and the resemblance still struck her sometimes as uncanny.

Narcissa, in addition to the bag she'd bought for Hermione, got her new dress robes, a beautiful leather bound journal with delicate etching done on the cover, and a pair of jade chopsticks for her hair. To Hermione's surprise, Lucius actually got her a couple of gifts as well. One was a golden cashmere reading blanket for her chair on the terrace and the other was a very old book of Merlin's works that Hermione used to drool over during the war.

“Do not hug me,” Lucius snapped when Hermione nearly threw her arms around him. “I found another copy so I deemed it appropriate to give you that one.”

There were no gifts from Draco who had disappeared some time ago. Narcissa placed a hand on her arm , frowning apologetically. Hermione was slightly insulted but shook it off. By eight o clock, Richard left because he had work early the next morning and Lucius and Narcissa retired to their rooms for the night. Hermione also went to her rooms to devour her new book.

As she was reading on her terrace, wrapped up in her new blanket, she heard a tinkling come from inside her room. At first she ignored it but the sound grew more persistent. She went into her room and looked around, trying to find the source of the sound. Suddenly, she noticed her door was ajar and immediately drew her wand.

After listening for another moment, the tinkling sounded again, from underneath the bed. Hermione crouched down and peered into the darkness. First she saw a pair of bright yellow eyes. Slowly the creature slid out from underneath the bed. Hermione smiled when she saw it was a large cat with bluish grey fur and incredible golden eyes that looked far older and more intelligent than what should belong on a feline.

“Now what're you doing out in here?” she said in a soft calming voice. “I didn't know there was a cat in the Manor.”

The cat merely approached her, its gait lazy and leisured and then bumped its soft head against her hand. Her smile broke out into a grin and she began to scratch the cat behind the ears, loving the feel of its velvety fur under her finger tips. It began to purr, a large sound for a large cat, and promptly climbed into her lap for more heavy petting.

“You are one gorgeous cat,” she said and it looked up at her as if it recognized the compliment. In the light, she could see faint stripes in its fur, more silvery than the rest of its bluish grey coat. She couldn't tell what breed it was- the color looked like that of a Russian Blue, but the size of it was incredible, even larger than a Maine Coon. It was probably some weird hybrid of a domesticated and feral cat.

Her hand moved down to scratch its neck and met something cool and smooth. It was a collar, a black leather one. She twisted it around and found a round silver identification tag. In curling letters, it read, Daemon. Hermione recognized the name as masculine and Greek and using the roots of the name, remembered it faintly meaning spirit...whether good or bad, she couldn't remember.

“Daemon,” she said aloud softly and the cat purred again. “Who do you belong to?”

She flipped over the id tag and nearly coughed on her own spit.

Belongs to Hermione Granger.

“What?” She looked at the tag and then at the cat in her lap. What in Merlin's name was going on?

“I see he found you.”

The male voice startled her and Hermione stood, swirling around with her wand out and ready. It was only Draco leaning against the doorway, arms crossed with a small smile on his face. “Daemon,” he said, nodding down at the cat. “You read his tag?”

“Yes,” she answered hesitantly with narrowed eyes. “What do you mean he found me?”

“Surely you recognize he's no ordinary cat?”

Hermione looked down at Daemon who was weaving in out of her legs. The faintly striped fur and the large body size... “He's part kneazle?”

Draco nodded. “Yes. And he's yours.”

“Mine?”

“Yes Granger,” Draco replied with a roll of his eyes. “Yours. I bought him for you. As a birthday present. Thats why I left early. To get him from where I was hiding him.”

“You remembered?”

“I did.”

Hermione bent down and picked up the heavy cat. Daemon began to affectionately lick her face. “How did he know to find me?”

“I bought him especially from a kneazle breeder who crosses them with domestic purebreds. He said Daemon is the smartest of the litter. I gave him a shirt of yours and he knew your scent. As soon as I put him down in the Manor, he set out to find you. Like a scent hound, I guess.”

To her horror, Hermione felt tears well in her eyes. She missed Crookshanks terribly, more than she liked to admit. He hadn't been only a cat but a companion and his incredible intelligence made him more than just a house pet. No one really thought twice about her dead cat but apparently Draco had...and thought it time she have another familiar.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, burying her face into Daemon's fur. “Malfoy, this is truly...a thoughtful gift. Thank you.”

Draco didn't respond, only stared at her clutching the cat in her arms. Daemon stayed in the position patiently for a while before he squirmed out of her arms and landed on the floor. He quickly jumped onto the bed and stretched out among her covers.

“I'm glad you like your gift,” Draco said after a moment of silence.

“Malfoy...” Hermione trailed off, at a loss for words.

He raised an eyebrow. “Granger?”

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “Never mind.”

He turned to leave but Hermione stopped him, grabbing his arm. “Merlin, Granger, I need to get some damn sleep-”

Hermione kissed him on the cheek and then backed away, reddening. It was the most chaste kiss she'd ever given someone and she hadn't expected to do it. But there was just something so sweet about Draco in this moment, that she couldn't help it.

Draco smirked. “Really Granger? The cheek? Couldn't you be a big girl and kiss me where it matters?”

She flushed some more. “Shut up Malfoy. I regret kissing you at all. Get out.”

He laughed but complied, leaving Hermione alone with her new companion.

Hermione slipped beneath the covers and Daemon curled up beside her, purring. But she couldn't sleep. She couldn't stop thinking about Draco and how thoughtful he'd been. But at the same time, she couldn't help but wonder if this was a genuine act of kindness or if it was just another move in this complex game of theirs?

He couldn't bring himself to join the festivities going on in the main drawing room of the Manor. It was Granger's birthday and because she was so beloved throughout the Order, everyone had gone above and beyond concerning the decorations and gifts. Tonks had spelled a fountain to spew fire whiskey and the Weasley matriarch had baked a huge, ten tier cake, each level decorated with monumental scenes from Hermione's life. Two hours into the party and everyone was trashed, singing or yelling or crying. Even though his parents were downstairs as well, Draco still couldn't bring himself to join them.

He hadn't really spoken to Granger since the night in the garden a month ago. And certainly hadn't fucked her either. It'd been two weeks since he'd gotten laid, and that'd been with Cho Chang who tried to hex him when he groaned out Granger's name during sex. Needless to say, she wouldn't be sleeping with him again.

Draco couldn't get his mind off Granger. He found himself looking for her and when he had found her, he watched her. Watched her duel, watched her fight with her friends, watched her from his mother's window when she took her nightly walks in the Malfoy gardens. And saw her too, when Weasley kissed her. That had been a big blow. But he should've known- it seemed as though everyone else expected the two of them to get together at some point. Granger didn't seem too enthused by Weasley's approach however, because she pushed him away and stomped off down the corridor. That comforted him a little.

Somehow, Granger had gotten under his skin. Though if he thought about, it'd always been that way. Now she was digging deeper, to the point where it was nearly unbearable. It was his choice to stop speaking to her- she seemed surprised the first time he ignored her during battle practice, but it was for his own good. It wouldn't do to become enamored with a mudblood. He needed his father's money to survive and Lucius was still adamant about blood purity, even though he seemed a little fond of Granger.

Four hours into the party and everyone was going back to their assigned bunks. He watched from the upper level of the staircase and caught sight of her bushy head of hair. He had her gift in his hand but he wasn't sure if he was going to give it to her. She was followed closely by her lackeys and Weasley had an arm around her shoulders, laughing and grinning.

Instead, he placed the blue peony outside her door. It was an easy spell, to change a flower blue but it hadn't been so easy to choose the color. He faintly remembered her speaking about her mother but it took a while to recall what her mother's favorite color was. Though Granger looked cheerful on the outside, he knew she cried at night in the garden, by the peony bushes where he had found her a month ago. She pretended, for everyone else's sake, to be happy because she seemed to think they couldn't handle her grief, atop everything else. But he knew that she still grieved for her dead mother. He knew she turned to no one to cry to.

So Draco waited. He waited for five minutes, then ten. Fifteen minutes into waiting, Hermione showed up outside her door. She fumbled with the door handle and to Draco's chagrin, crushed part of the flower beneath the heel of her shoe. She heard the noise and bent down. He saw her face crumple when she picked up the flower, saw her tears when she read the short note he attached to the stem. He saw her look around, searching for whoever had left the flower on her doorstep. But he was hidden, and she wouldn't find him, especially not half drunk and half asleep. She glanced around one last time before she went into her room, blue flower in hand.

Once again, Draco thought about her as he came that night, alone and cold in his bed. Thought about her hair and her lips and Weasley's arms around her shoulders.

And once again resolved to have her. Wholly and entirely. He told himself he could wait. Just a little longer. Until he knew he could have her the way he wanted her again- he wanted her yearning for him, just the way he yearned for her. And he wanted her to love him, as much as he was enamored with her.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

He'd need time and patience. It was only a game and he needed strategy to win.

Granger was no easy opponent. But he had the upper hand.

Especially since she had no idea yet, that she was playing.
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The Tyger and The Lamb