The Owl and the Pussycat
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Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
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Adult
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10
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Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
10
Views:
9,693
Reviews:
36
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
How charmingly sweet you sing!
Pussy said to Owl, 'You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?'
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-Tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose!
With a ring at the end of his nose.
(Second verse) by Edward Lear
The Night of Narcissa’s Party, 21:30pm.
The social event had been in full swing for an hour; drink flowed; fine food was instantly replenished; good company sat around circular tables covered in fine, pale blue lace tablecloths. A string quintet were positioned in one corner, their melodies accompanied by dancers on the huge parquet floor.
“I read your paper about bottling spells into potions, such a wonderful idea…” commented a man who’s back was ram-rod straight, a bronze goatee around his smiling mouth.
“Yes, a wonderful idea, but impossible to accomplish for most incantations.” Chipped in another man, this one much older. He was almost bald, and had indulged in too much rich food and alcohol – especially if the proportion of his gut was any indication.
“Actually, further research has allowed me to bottle the disinfectant charm. Draco and the other healers like its effects. Snapping the top from the glass vial allows the spell to vaporise – and as it turns to gas it disinfects every item it touches. By closing the door and breaking open two bottles, they can completely decontaminate a ward, empty of patients, in the space of two minutes; it doesn’t put the staff or Hospital Elves in any danger from anything too contagious by being in contact with it while cleaning. One vial holds the equivalent of thirty different localised disinfectant charms.” Hermione retorted, the overweight man was one of the people who always criticised her research – no matter what it was. What she couldn’t tell him was that she had bottled the killing curse in the unspeakable’s laboratory, and all it had to do was touch skin – it didn’t have to be ingested. That was far too dangerous to become public knowledge; bottling the disinfecting charm was a walk in the park compared with the unforgivable.
“What a clever idea! With the hospital, speed is everything if there is an outbreak of something incredibly contagious! Two minutes, you say?” asked another man, this one middle-aged with a friendly smile and a glint in his eye that reminded Hermione of Dumbledore. “I own a leisure centre in the Lake District – something like that would be wonderful for the gymnasium and swimming pool changing rooms – we haven’t got spells that get rid of Athlete’s foot… how much is it per vial?”
“You can’t say your establishment will use such a thing! You are reputable!” cried the outraged old gentleman. “I certainly will not visit again!”
“I would not have asked the price if I was not intending to use it, and Godfrey, you have not visited the gymnasium in two decades! You only come to enjoy the wine and cuisine.” The centre’s owner replied, looking to Hermione.
“Well, it costs around a galleon to produce a standard bottle, two galleons to add a perfuming charm over the top to make the room smell nice. I guess I’d have to get back to you on price, I never thought of selling it, it was just for Saint Mungo’s initially!” Hermione said, honoured that someone other than esteemed academics had taken notice of her work.
“Here is my business card, send me an owl with the cost and I’ll get back to you – I presume that Malfoy Incorporated owns the patent to it?” he said, Malfoy Incorporated tended to own a lot of patents to incredibly useful potions produced for consumers.
“No, I own the patent myself, but the research was funded by the company… so the price is for myself to decide.” Hermione replied “This business venture is a little hobby of mine”.
“Pah! A woman in business! You jest! Business is not the realm of a woman!” shouted the old man, thoroughly shocking Hermione and drawing stares over to their table – not to mention Draco and Harry (now head Auror) ready to hex the insulting twit.
“Father, do not be so rude!” Said the younger man with the goatee, defending the young genius from a man who was incapable of compliments.
“And, pray tell, where is the realm of a woman?” Hermione said, a nasty light in her eyes that most people took as a warning to choose their words with care. Godfrey was the only one of the slowly increasing group whom hadn’t seen it.
“A woman should be dutiful to a husband – something you do not have. A woman should remain in the home, managing the running of the house and caring for the children! Women and money are an obscene combination that should not be permitted! I cannot believe that women are allowed to work for the ministry – never mind be heads of departments!” he ranted, red in the face.
“Father…” said the son, noting that Hermione was literally seeing red, the outer circle of her irises glowing scarlet. Inducing such anger in a witch as powerful as her was never a sensible plan of action.
“You want me to be a housewife?” Hermione hissed, highly tempted to fish her wand from between her cleavage and show him exactly what her opinion of that was.
“Indeed! Are you so backward that you did not understand and had to ask confirmation! Infact I could make you a housewife! I am influential in the Ministry – a nice little law making it illegal for women to work would be wonderful!” the obese man yelled.
“Father…” said the son, noting now that they not only had the attention of head Auror, Harry Potter; had captured the notice of Reformed Death Eater, Draco Malfoy – currently director of Malfoy Incorporated (most people forgot he was a training Master Healer)… but worse: Hermione Granger’s eyes were completely crimson in her anger.
“You. And. What. Army?” Hermione said in false calm – she wouldn’t lose her temper and embarrass Narcissa.
“Is this person bothering you, Love?” Draco said, stressing the ‘love’ in the sentence. He had approached her slowly, resting a calming hand onto her lower back. The backless dress giving him, and his healing skills easy access to bare skin.
“I’m just a little annoyed with this dogmatist of a man whom is currently living in the dark ages.” Hermione answered, leaning back into Draco’s touch; the impressive choker she ware glinting in the light of one of the chandeliers. The platinum choker was a few centimetres wide, encrusted with perfectly cut diamonds, with an offset flower (also coated in gleaming stones) to one side of her throat. The jewellery screamed ‘Malfoy’, Hermione had borrowed the necklace from Narcissa that evening, the older witch deciding on something a lot more convoluted and elaborate. Hermione wasn’t a fan of jewels, but Narcissa had insisted firmly that she wear it.
“Ah, ignore him, love. He’s a fool to say such things – especially as the room has many very successful female guests within it. I would look the other way should they decide to hex him.” Draco chuckled, a few of those women smiling at the comment.
“Please, permit me to be at the front of that queue for hex throwing!” Hermione chuckled evilly; allowing Draco to gently lead her to another room. Few knew of their relationship, the occupants saw Draco’s hand on her back only as the head of a company trying to placate a colleague who was incredibly vital, not the gentle touch of someone who merely wanted the contact of someone he loved.
“I’ll give you a word of advice. I may have taken on Voldemort.” A hiss rose from the surrounding party guests at Harry’s use of the name, “But I’d never take on an angry Hermione Granger! I value my life too much to do something so stupid! She knows more Dark Arts magic than I do! She’s done quite a bit of research for the Aurors.” He shrugged, what he had said was completely true – his Gryffindor courage didn’t go as far as ‘angry Hermione’.
“Who in Merlin’s name upset Hermione! I haven’t seen her so angry in years!” Ginny said, having heard Hermione’s rant about the pompous twit as Draco held her in his arms. Ginny Potter hadn’t expected that relationship to come about – but she’d never seen either of them so content and happy, she was pleased that they’d found something as special as what she and Harry had.
“Do you realise that I wanted Malfoy Incorporated to take the potions I have been brewing and add them to their sales repertoire? The meeting with Draco Malfoy was on Monday evening! You may have just ruined that opportunity, Father.” Hissed the man with the goatee, stalking off to try and apologise for something his highly opinionated Father had done.
“You don’t need them! You have the family company!” Yelled Godfrey after his son.
“Yes, a family company that cannot possibly compete with Malfoy Incorporated!” he shouted back, muttering a quick apology to Narcissa as he passed her.
Narcissa spun around in her beautiful pastel green gown, the little train twisting about her ankles giving the impression of a Nordic goddess rising from the sea. Narcissa might be pushing fifty, but she still had an almost identical figure to the one when she was twenty – and could proudly still fit into her wedding dress after twenty nine years! Not many of the other ladies could claim that! Narcissa was blessed with the ability to eat anything and it never stick to her hips… alright, she would admit to the patches of cellulite on her thighs, but nobody saw those in public! And seeing that Lucius was still imprisoned, nobody saw them in private, either. Her emeralds caught the light as she stormed over to Godfrey to give him an elevated telling off for upsetting Hermione and for angering the successful ladies homing in on him as he continued to rant about women remaining in the home.
“Godfrey, you are only making things much worse for yourself – please, do calm down or I shall have no choice but to evict you from the festivities.” She said, utterly neutral and void of emotion – the tone of voice that would frighten even Lucius.
“You are a woman of the house, a prime example of a biddable housewife – what is your opinion of my words? Do you not agree?” he hissed, noting Narcissa’s cleavage in the corseted bodice.
“The only reason I remained at home was because Lucius was a darling and had the laboratory renovated before our wedding – I do much research into herbology, but I publish under a different name to my own…” She raised her hand to cease his talking, “And before you ask, I do own the patents to all my own research, but it is my husband’s company that produces and sells the products.” She said, leaving the red-faced man standing in the middle of a crowd of twelve angry women, impersonating a koi carp. She turned, deciding she would have the last word. “Oh, and as for biddable, Lucius isn’t a fool, he wouldn’t order me to do anything – he’d find himself joining the soprano section of the choir if he did.”
A cheer and brief applause came from the other women before they all broke into fits of (rather evil) giggles.
“Come, ladies – he isn’t worth the energy to hex him, I can hear singing in another room – shall we go and listen?” said one in a pale pink dress that was reminiscent of a fairy princess.
“Indeed – we can plot world domination while we’re at it! Rid the world of men!” said another with a smile, the soft calf-leather corset she wore dully shining in the light. She picked up the black velvet and red lace skirt and hurried to follow Narcissa, dangerous-looking boots clicking on the floor as she walked.
“Wouldn’t there be any children if we did that?” said another in a sky-blue gown, scratching her head.
“Oh, there are spells that will… erm… implant seed for you – and a few incantations that are sooooooo much better than a man for pleasure; and they don’t leave the toilet seat up either!” chuckled another, linking arms with the confused woman who had the most curious expression on her face.
Arthur Weasley looked on with a soft smile, he had the appearance of a rock-hopper penguin in his black and white dress robes, small tufts of ginger hair poking out from behind his ears. His wife wore the trousers in their home, if Narcissa was as ferocious as Molly then he pitied Lucius if he ever got on his wife’s bad side.
“What are you grinning at, what’s so funny?” Molly said, smoothing the wrinkles of her brand new dress. Arthur’s new position in the ministry as chief of Muggle-Wizarding cooperation department brought in almost triple the wage he used to have – not to mention that all the children had moved out… well officially, the boys often descended upon their Mother for feeding and advice about marriage and children.
“Nothing dear, Godfrey was just holing himself a dig – as the muggles say. Or is it digging himself a hole? Joshua was telling me over the parchment about someone.” Arthur had managed, via his tinkering to set up an instant messaging system at the ministry, rather than the paper plane post. Special parchment on the desk allowed you to write to anyone in the building and read their immediate response. It had revolutionised ministry efficiency, office gossip and the number of romantically involved couples.
“Muggles say some silly things! That singing is nice! I didn’t think Narcissa had booked a singer as well as the string quintet. Lets go listen the song is so pretty!” She said, not giving Arthur time to reply, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the other room.
…
Molly couldn’t see the singer from her vantage point at the back of the small room, the voice was slightly shaky and quiet, a few arpeggios in various keys being sung as a warm up. She grabbed Arthur’s hand, partly dragging him to the space where Ginny and Harry had managed to save.
“Oh! Its Hermione! Arthur! Look! Its Hermione!” She whispered loud enough for seven people to turn around and tell her to shush. She stood at the piano that had been moved from the ballroom into a parlour, playing three or four notes she began, her eyes never leaving Draco.
You with the sad eyes
Don’t be discouraged
Oh I realise
Its hard to take courage
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
And the darkness, inside you
Can make you feel so small
The chattering fell to whispers, whispers rendered to sighs, sighs forced to silence by Hermione’s voice. The wizards and witches hadn’t heard the song before and were held by its lyrics and their obvious meaning about the young blonde man who stared straight back at the singer.
But I see your true colours
Shining through
I see your true colours
And that’s why I love you
So don’t be afraid to let them show
Your true colours
True colours are beautiful,
Like a rainbow
Hermione touched another note on the piano, softly tuning herself for the next verse; holding the note in her mind she continued, her eyes never leaving Draco. She forgot there was a room of fifty people, forgot the world existed – everything that mattered was held in those silver irises.
Show me a smile then,
Don’t be unhappy, can’t remember
When I last saw you laughing
If this world makes you crazy
And you’ve taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know I’ll be there
And I’ll see your true colours
Shining through
I see your true colours
And that’s why I love you
So don’t be afraid to let them show
Your true colours
True colours are beautiful,
Like a rainbow
The audience noticed her stare, several unattached males of the audience wishing they were Draco Malfoy, and wondering what he had that they didn’t – apart from money and a Dark Mark. Perhaps the unspeakable lived dangerously?
So sad eyes
Discouraged now
Realize
When this world makes you crazy
And you’ve taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know I’ll be there
Hermione moved away from the piano and towards her love, the long blood-red dress trailing as she took shaking steps toward him… The man who was so uniquely complicated and so simple all in one package. The man she’d willingly go to the end of the world for – and beyond. The man who she had met because she was bored with life and went on holiday.
The man she loved without question or doubt.
She stood before Draco, her right hand trailing through his short hair to the back of his neck; her left hand resting above his heart. She took a deep breath of the ylang-ylang and patchouli oils still remaining on his skin from their bath before the party, a scent that would henceforth symbolise home for her.
And I’ll see your true colours
Shining through
I see your true colours
And that’s why I love you
So don’t be afraid to let them show
Your true colours
True colours, true colours
Cos there’s a shining through
I see your true colours
And that’s why I love you
So don’t be afraid to let them show
Your true colours, true colours
True colours are beautiful,
Beautiful, like a rainbow
Draco’s eyes filled with tears, she’d never sung with so much passion before, never stared at him throughout a song – she’d always focussed on an inanimate object in the room when she sang before. Draco held the hand on his heart with trembling fingers, moving slowly to her lips for the most gentle and tender kisses imaginable; their lips hardly open, tongue tips touching in a rapid flicking motion.
Both Hermione and Draco’s eyes were closed, tears tracking the contours of their faces as the kiss continued.
“Marry me?” Draco managed to whisper after a moment, his forehead pressed to hers, their noses touching. He reached into his robes for a small ornately carved box, opening it to produce a stunning rose gold band topped with a large marquise cut diamond.
“Always and forever made real?” Hermione asked, tears flowing faster from her eyes. “Yes.”
“Forever and always.” Draco said, slipping the band over her finger and leaning in to kiss her with undoubting passion, regardless of the crowd of shocked party guests and a sobbing Narcissa and Molly.
A/N:
Hermione’s ball gown: http://www.dzage.co.uk/BigRangeImage.php?I=D9105&Range=1
The choker (which I actually own! However, its cubic zerconica – not diamond; and its silver plated – not platinum… But you get the idea of what it looks like. I don’t think I’d feel comfortable having a small fortune of platinum and diamond hung around my neck – not to mention being unable to afford it! I wore the same neckwear for most of my 18th birthday party, changing it half way through for my boyfriend’s bow tie!) http://www.thebridalwearcompany.co.uk/store/productdetailone-wedding-jewellery_JW582-item-682.htm
Narcissa’s frock: http://www.redcarpetgowns.co.uk/jasmine.htm
Narcissa’s emeralds: http://www.raymondyard.com/raymond/jewear19.asp
Exchange the rose gold for 18 karat yellow gold and you have a description of my engagement ring… I just don’t know when my baby is going to get down on one knee! *squee*
You may have realised I’m a fan of pretty dresses – they are something I don’t get to indulge in often, and when I do get chance it’s a 100% transformation from labcoat to posh frock!
True Colours from: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/p/phil+collins/true+colors_20108047.html
Once again, many thanks for your support!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?'
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-Tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose!
With a ring at the end of his nose.
(Second verse) by Edward Lear
The Night of Narcissa’s Party, 21:30pm.
The social event had been in full swing for an hour; drink flowed; fine food was instantly replenished; good company sat around circular tables covered in fine, pale blue lace tablecloths. A string quintet were positioned in one corner, their melodies accompanied by dancers on the huge parquet floor.
“I read your paper about bottling spells into potions, such a wonderful idea…” commented a man who’s back was ram-rod straight, a bronze goatee around his smiling mouth.
“Yes, a wonderful idea, but impossible to accomplish for most incantations.” Chipped in another man, this one much older. He was almost bald, and had indulged in too much rich food and alcohol – especially if the proportion of his gut was any indication.
“Actually, further research has allowed me to bottle the disinfectant charm. Draco and the other healers like its effects. Snapping the top from the glass vial allows the spell to vaporise – and as it turns to gas it disinfects every item it touches. By closing the door and breaking open two bottles, they can completely decontaminate a ward, empty of patients, in the space of two minutes; it doesn’t put the staff or Hospital Elves in any danger from anything too contagious by being in contact with it while cleaning. One vial holds the equivalent of thirty different localised disinfectant charms.” Hermione retorted, the overweight man was one of the people who always criticised her research – no matter what it was. What she couldn’t tell him was that she had bottled the killing curse in the unspeakable’s laboratory, and all it had to do was touch skin – it didn’t have to be ingested. That was far too dangerous to become public knowledge; bottling the disinfecting charm was a walk in the park compared with the unforgivable.
“What a clever idea! With the hospital, speed is everything if there is an outbreak of something incredibly contagious! Two minutes, you say?” asked another man, this one middle-aged with a friendly smile and a glint in his eye that reminded Hermione of Dumbledore. “I own a leisure centre in the Lake District – something like that would be wonderful for the gymnasium and swimming pool changing rooms – we haven’t got spells that get rid of Athlete’s foot… how much is it per vial?”
“You can’t say your establishment will use such a thing! You are reputable!” cried the outraged old gentleman. “I certainly will not visit again!”
“I would not have asked the price if I was not intending to use it, and Godfrey, you have not visited the gymnasium in two decades! You only come to enjoy the wine and cuisine.” The centre’s owner replied, looking to Hermione.
“Well, it costs around a galleon to produce a standard bottle, two galleons to add a perfuming charm over the top to make the room smell nice. I guess I’d have to get back to you on price, I never thought of selling it, it was just for Saint Mungo’s initially!” Hermione said, honoured that someone other than esteemed academics had taken notice of her work.
“Here is my business card, send me an owl with the cost and I’ll get back to you – I presume that Malfoy Incorporated owns the patent to it?” he said, Malfoy Incorporated tended to own a lot of patents to incredibly useful potions produced for consumers.
“No, I own the patent myself, but the research was funded by the company… so the price is for myself to decide.” Hermione replied “This business venture is a little hobby of mine”.
“Pah! A woman in business! You jest! Business is not the realm of a woman!” shouted the old man, thoroughly shocking Hermione and drawing stares over to their table – not to mention Draco and Harry (now head Auror) ready to hex the insulting twit.
“Father, do not be so rude!” Said the younger man with the goatee, defending the young genius from a man who was incapable of compliments.
“And, pray tell, where is the realm of a woman?” Hermione said, a nasty light in her eyes that most people took as a warning to choose their words with care. Godfrey was the only one of the slowly increasing group whom hadn’t seen it.
“A woman should be dutiful to a husband – something you do not have. A woman should remain in the home, managing the running of the house and caring for the children! Women and money are an obscene combination that should not be permitted! I cannot believe that women are allowed to work for the ministry – never mind be heads of departments!” he ranted, red in the face.
“Father…” said the son, noting that Hermione was literally seeing red, the outer circle of her irises glowing scarlet. Inducing such anger in a witch as powerful as her was never a sensible plan of action.
“You want me to be a housewife?” Hermione hissed, highly tempted to fish her wand from between her cleavage and show him exactly what her opinion of that was.
“Indeed! Are you so backward that you did not understand and had to ask confirmation! Infact I could make you a housewife! I am influential in the Ministry – a nice little law making it illegal for women to work would be wonderful!” the obese man yelled.
“Father…” said the son, noting now that they not only had the attention of head Auror, Harry Potter; had captured the notice of Reformed Death Eater, Draco Malfoy – currently director of Malfoy Incorporated (most people forgot he was a training Master Healer)… but worse: Hermione Granger’s eyes were completely crimson in her anger.
“You. And. What. Army?” Hermione said in false calm – she wouldn’t lose her temper and embarrass Narcissa.
“Is this person bothering you, Love?” Draco said, stressing the ‘love’ in the sentence. He had approached her slowly, resting a calming hand onto her lower back. The backless dress giving him, and his healing skills easy access to bare skin.
“I’m just a little annoyed with this dogmatist of a man whom is currently living in the dark ages.” Hermione answered, leaning back into Draco’s touch; the impressive choker she ware glinting in the light of one of the chandeliers. The platinum choker was a few centimetres wide, encrusted with perfectly cut diamonds, with an offset flower (also coated in gleaming stones) to one side of her throat. The jewellery screamed ‘Malfoy’, Hermione had borrowed the necklace from Narcissa that evening, the older witch deciding on something a lot more convoluted and elaborate. Hermione wasn’t a fan of jewels, but Narcissa had insisted firmly that she wear it.
“Ah, ignore him, love. He’s a fool to say such things – especially as the room has many very successful female guests within it. I would look the other way should they decide to hex him.” Draco chuckled, a few of those women smiling at the comment.
“Please, permit me to be at the front of that queue for hex throwing!” Hermione chuckled evilly; allowing Draco to gently lead her to another room. Few knew of their relationship, the occupants saw Draco’s hand on her back only as the head of a company trying to placate a colleague who was incredibly vital, not the gentle touch of someone who merely wanted the contact of someone he loved.
“I’ll give you a word of advice. I may have taken on Voldemort.” A hiss rose from the surrounding party guests at Harry’s use of the name, “But I’d never take on an angry Hermione Granger! I value my life too much to do something so stupid! She knows more Dark Arts magic than I do! She’s done quite a bit of research for the Aurors.” He shrugged, what he had said was completely true – his Gryffindor courage didn’t go as far as ‘angry Hermione’.
“Who in Merlin’s name upset Hermione! I haven’t seen her so angry in years!” Ginny said, having heard Hermione’s rant about the pompous twit as Draco held her in his arms. Ginny Potter hadn’t expected that relationship to come about – but she’d never seen either of them so content and happy, she was pleased that they’d found something as special as what she and Harry had.
“Do you realise that I wanted Malfoy Incorporated to take the potions I have been brewing and add them to their sales repertoire? The meeting with Draco Malfoy was on Monday evening! You may have just ruined that opportunity, Father.” Hissed the man with the goatee, stalking off to try and apologise for something his highly opinionated Father had done.
“You don’t need them! You have the family company!” Yelled Godfrey after his son.
“Yes, a family company that cannot possibly compete with Malfoy Incorporated!” he shouted back, muttering a quick apology to Narcissa as he passed her.
Narcissa spun around in her beautiful pastel green gown, the little train twisting about her ankles giving the impression of a Nordic goddess rising from the sea. Narcissa might be pushing fifty, but she still had an almost identical figure to the one when she was twenty – and could proudly still fit into her wedding dress after twenty nine years! Not many of the other ladies could claim that! Narcissa was blessed with the ability to eat anything and it never stick to her hips… alright, she would admit to the patches of cellulite on her thighs, but nobody saw those in public! And seeing that Lucius was still imprisoned, nobody saw them in private, either. Her emeralds caught the light as she stormed over to Godfrey to give him an elevated telling off for upsetting Hermione and for angering the successful ladies homing in on him as he continued to rant about women remaining in the home.
“Godfrey, you are only making things much worse for yourself – please, do calm down or I shall have no choice but to evict you from the festivities.” She said, utterly neutral and void of emotion – the tone of voice that would frighten even Lucius.
“You are a woman of the house, a prime example of a biddable housewife – what is your opinion of my words? Do you not agree?” he hissed, noting Narcissa’s cleavage in the corseted bodice.
“The only reason I remained at home was because Lucius was a darling and had the laboratory renovated before our wedding – I do much research into herbology, but I publish under a different name to my own…” She raised her hand to cease his talking, “And before you ask, I do own the patents to all my own research, but it is my husband’s company that produces and sells the products.” She said, leaving the red-faced man standing in the middle of a crowd of twelve angry women, impersonating a koi carp. She turned, deciding she would have the last word. “Oh, and as for biddable, Lucius isn’t a fool, he wouldn’t order me to do anything – he’d find himself joining the soprano section of the choir if he did.”
A cheer and brief applause came from the other women before they all broke into fits of (rather evil) giggles.
“Come, ladies – he isn’t worth the energy to hex him, I can hear singing in another room – shall we go and listen?” said one in a pale pink dress that was reminiscent of a fairy princess.
“Indeed – we can plot world domination while we’re at it! Rid the world of men!” said another with a smile, the soft calf-leather corset she wore dully shining in the light. She picked up the black velvet and red lace skirt and hurried to follow Narcissa, dangerous-looking boots clicking on the floor as she walked.
“Wouldn’t there be any children if we did that?” said another in a sky-blue gown, scratching her head.
“Oh, there are spells that will… erm… implant seed for you – and a few incantations that are sooooooo much better than a man for pleasure; and they don’t leave the toilet seat up either!” chuckled another, linking arms with the confused woman who had the most curious expression on her face.
Arthur Weasley looked on with a soft smile, he had the appearance of a rock-hopper penguin in his black and white dress robes, small tufts of ginger hair poking out from behind his ears. His wife wore the trousers in their home, if Narcissa was as ferocious as Molly then he pitied Lucius if he ever got on his wife’s bad side.
“What are you grinning at, what’s so funny?” Molly said, smoothing the wrinkles of her brand new dress. Arthur’s new position in the ministry as chief of Muggle-Wizarding cooperation department brought in almost triple the wage he used to have – not to mention that all the children had moved out… well officially, the boys often descended upon their Mother for feeding and advice about marriage and children.
“Nothing dear, Godfrey was just holing himself a dig – as the muggles say. Or is it digging himself a hole? Joshua was telling me over the parchment about someone.” Arthur had managed, via his tinkering to set up an instant messaging system at the ministry, rather than the paper plane post. Special parchment on the desk allowed you to write to anyone in the building and read their immediate response. It had revolutionised ministry efficiency, office gossip and the number of romantically involved couples.
“Muggles say some silly things! That singing is nice! I didn’t think Narcissa had booked a singer as well as the string quintet. Lets go listen the song is so pretty!” She said, not giving Arthur time to reply, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the other room.
…
Molly couldn’t see the singer from her vantage point at the back of the small room, the voice was slightly shaky and quiet, a few arpeggios in various keys being sung as a warm up. She grabbed Arthur’s hand, partly dragging him to the space where Ginny and Harry had managed to save.
“Oh! Its Hermione! Arthur! Look! Its Hermione!” She whispered loud enough for seven people to turn around and tell her to shush. She stood at the piano that had been moved from the ballroom into a parlour, playing three or four notes she began, her eyes never leaving Draco.
You with the sad eyes
Don’t be discouraged
Oh I realise
Its hard to take courage
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
And the darkness, inside you
Can make you feel so small
The chattering fell to whispers, whispers rendered to sighs, sighs forced to silence by Hermione’s voice. The wizards and witches hadn’t heard the song before and were held by its lyrics and their obvious meaning about the young blonde man who stared straight back at the singer.
But I see your true colours
Shining through
I see your true colours
And that’s why I love you
So don’t be afraid to let them show
Your true colours
True colours are beautiful,
Like a rainbow
Hermione touched another note on the piano, softly tuning herself for the next verse; holding the note in her mind she continued, her eyes never leaving Draco. She forgot there was a room of fifty people, forgot the world existed – everything that mattered was held in those silver irises.
Show me a smile then,
Don’t be unhappy, can’t remember
When I last saw you laughing
If this world makes you crazy
And you’ve taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know I’ll be there
And I’ll see your true colours
Shining through
I see your true colours
And that’s why I love you
So don’t be afraid to let them show
Your true colours
True colours are beautiful,
Like a rainbow
The audience noticed her stare, several unattached males of the audience wishing they were Draco Malfoy, and wondering what he had that they didn’t – apart from money and a Dark Mark. Perhaps the unspeakable lived dangerously?
So sad eyes
Discouraged now
Realize
When this world makes you crazy
And you’ve taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know I’ll be there
Hermione moved away from the piano and towards her love, the long blood-red dress trailing as she took shaking steps toward him… The man who was so uniquely complicated and so simple all in one package. The man she’d willingly go to the end of the world for – and beyond. The man who she had met because she was bored with life and went on holiday.
The man she loved without question or doubt.
She stood before Draco, her right hand trailing through his short hair to the back of his neck; her left hand resting above his heart. She took a deep breath of the ylang-ylang and patchouli oils still remaining on his skin from their bath before the party, a scent that would henceforth symbolise home for her.
And I’ll see your true colours
Shining through
I see your true colours
And that’s why I love you
So don’t be afraid to let them show
Your true colours
True colours, true colours
Cos there’s a shining through
I see your true colours
And that’s why I love you
So don’t be afraid to let them show
Your true colours, true colours
True colours are beautiful,
Beautiful, like a rainbow
Draco’s eyes filled with tears, she’d never sung with so much passion before, never stared at him throughout a song – she’d always focussed on an inanimate object in the room when she sang before. Draco held the hand on his heart with trembling fingers, moving slowly to her lips for the most gentle and tender kisses imaginable; their lips hardly open, tongue tips touching in a rapid flicking motion.
Both Hermione and Draco’s eyes were closed, tears tracking the contours of their faces as the kiss continued.
“Marry me?” Draco managed to whisper after a moment, his forehead pressed to hers, their noses touching. He reached into his robes for a small ornately carved box, opening it to produce a stunning rose gold band topped with a large marquise cut diamond.
“Always and forever made real?” Hermione asked, tears flowing faster from her eyes. “Yes.”
“Forever and always.” Draco said, slipping the band over her finger and leaning in to kiss her with undoubting passion, regardless of the crowd of shocked party guests and a sobbing Narcissa and Molly.
A/N:
Hermione’s ball gown: http://www.dzage.co.uk/BigRangeImage.php?I=D9105&Range=1
The choker (which I actually own! However, its cubic zerconica – not diamond; and its silver plated – not platinum… But you get the idea of what it looks like. I don’t think I’d feel comfortable having a small fortune of platinum and diamond hung around my neck – not to mention being unable to afford it! I wore the same neckwear for most of my 18th birthday party, changing it half way through for my boyfriend’s bow tie!) http://www.thebridalwearcompany.co.uk/store/productdetailone-wedding-jewellery_JW582-item-682.htm
Narcissa’s frock: http://www.redcarpetgowns.co.uk/jasmine.htm
Narcissa’s emeralds: http://www.raymondyard.com/raymond/jewear19.asp
Exchange the rose gold for 18 karat yellow gold and you have a description of my engagement ring… I just don’t know when my baby is going to get down on one knee! *squee*
You may have realised I’m a fan of pretty dresses – they are something I don’t get to indulge in often, and when I do get chance it’s a 100% transformation from labcoat to posh frock!
True Colours from: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/p/phil+collins/true+colors_20108047.html
Once again, many thanks for your support!