Chapter Eighteen
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Draco pushed around the last of his breakfast, not really hungry in the first place. Today the other students would be back at Hogwarts and he really wasn't looking forward to their arrival. He was just glad that as married students they had their own set of rooms, completely separate from either of their houses. He would not like to have to sleep with the other Slytherins after having married a muggleborn. Somehow, he didn't think it would be a pleasant experience, all around. He frowned. It wasn't as though they all were death eater wanna-bes, but enough of them were to make things . . . difficult. The dark lord was pretty much a taboo subject in the house of the snake, since no one could be sure whose side who was on. Only those who had already received the mark might know some of the students allegiances - but Draco seriously doubted anyone still in school actually had received it. Dorm living and communal showers - barring prefects - made hiding such a thing beyond difficult.
"Ready?" Ian asked quietly.
Draco jumped at the question, but nodded. It was best to get it over with; though, it seemed a lot of trouble to go to just to turn around and leave in a couple hours to catch the Hogwarts Express. He almost said as much, but decided against it. From what he understood, several of the professors were already there waiting, warding the house or some such. He was just glad that both of Hermione's parents had agreed that their explanation of delay was completely plausible. It gave the two of them much needed time before it became necessary to consumate their marriage - neither of them was ready for that at the moment.
A shiver ran down his spine as he stood and helped Hermione climb over the bench. He really hoped they put up some powerful wards, or this marriage just might be as short lived as his first - not something he wanted to happen. He really didn't think he could handle losing another wife so soon after Kathryn. This time, the baby would die as well. He sincerely doubted there would be another person willing to do what Hermione had done.
The knowledge that this time, he, too, would probably die, did nothing to settle his nerves.
"Professor Snape provided us with a portkey," Ian offered as he and Mrs - Jane - Mum- Draco shook his head. He'd figure out what to call her later. "Ian held out a brass goblet, and the moment all four of them were touching it, it activated.
Seconds later, he stumbled as the portkey released them all. He grabbed hold of Hermione the moment they all appeared, preventing her from falling. In his preoccupation with keeping Hermione upright and stable, it took Draco several moments to take in his surroundings. When he did, however, shock struck him. If he hadn't known better, he could swear he was standing in the foyer to one of the Malfoy homes - not that it exactly looked like any of the homes he'd set foot it, it simply could be one. He blinked a couple of times as he took in the tasteful elegance surrounding them. He wasn't entirely certain just what he'd been expecting, but it hadn't been this, not in the slightest, not even after discovering that Hermione had money. She may have spoken of a 'trust fund', but he knew a lot of people with trust funds whose families didn't like in a place that would have an entry way like this!
To be honest, he'd actually assumed that her secondary account would have been pretty much wiped out with the br- groom price, but now, he wasn't so sure. It was odd to be, once again, completely re-evaluating his situation, and his assessment of one Hermione Granger. Only this time, he was suddenly finding himself in the postion of needing to re-evaluate more than just his new wife, but rather her people as well.
Your people, now, the little voice of his conscience piped up. You swore so yesterday.
He ignored the voice - for now. None of it was truly real yet; though, he had no doubts it would all sink in soon enough. As it was, he'd never pictured any muggles living in surroundings he would have been comfortable in. Is that what allows the magic to take hold? he wondered, frowning. Some muggles rise above the others? Taking a deep breath, he leaned close to Hermione. "Do many muggles live like this?" he asked.
Cocking her head at him curiously, she frowned a bit. "Like what?"
Waving a hand in an arc around him, he shrugged, trying not to let his frustration that she hadn't immediately understood what he meant show. "Like this," he explained. "This wouldn't be out of place in one of the Malfoy homes."
Hermione's frown deepened a little as she too looked around, but just as Draco was losing hope she'd understand without him explaining even further, the frown disappeared and he watched as understanding lit up her expression. "Oh! Well, a lot of people with money do," she replied, bring her gaze back to rest on him. "Just like in the wizarding world, there are a wide range of lifestyles, Draco, both rich and poor."
Draco nodded in automatic response to her words, though, he wanted to ask more. He didn't, however, something in her voice warning him that he was treading on dangerous ground. Why it was dangerous, he had absolutely no clue; he just knew it was. Thankfully, Mrs. Gran- Jane interrupted them, moving Hermione's focus elsewhere.
"Hermione, dear, why don't you go show Draco where you'll be staying while you're not in school."
"Sure, Mum," Hermione replied and headed for the stairs. She stopped suddenly, however, and Draco nearly ran into her.
"Give a bloke a little warning next time," he groused.
"Sorry," she said absently, her attention obviously not on him. "Mum!"
"Yes?"
"We'll need to do at least a little shopping before we head for King's Cross."
"We don't have much time, Hermione."
"Yes, Mum, I know. But most of Draco's stuff was burned up in the motel fire. He's gonna need stuff for school!"
Draco startled. He hadn't realized she had thought of that. Truth be told, he'd been a little too preoccupied to think of it. Now that he did, however, he knew he was in trouble. He had absolutely none of his school supplies - as well as virtually no clothing. Just a couple of things he'd bought to tide him over.
Hermione's Mother spun around, a horrified look on her face. "Are you telling me that Draco doesn't have clothes or school supplies, and you didn't think to tell me last night;?"
Hermione ducked sheepishly. "I didn't think of it til just now, Mum."
"It's all right, Jane," Draco jumped in, proud of himself for his oh-so-casual use of her name. "I didn't even think of it until Hermione brought it up. Yesterday was kind of . . . full."
Beside him, Hermione choked on a laugh, muttering 'understatement' under her breath. He almost laughed in response, but managed not to. It wouldn't do to admit - this early in the game at least - that he actually found her comment funny.
"Ian!" Mrs. Granger shouted. "We've got to go shopping."
"Have fun, Dear," he shouted back.
Mrs. Granger huffed. "You don't get off that easy!" she yelled back, heading the direction of his voice.
Draco cast a worried look toward Hermione, but she simply shrugged, a crooked smile twisting her mouth upward. "That's just them."
He nodded, wondering how long it was going to take to get used to. His parents almost never shouted. If one of them did, he usually found a place to hide, because the fallout wasn't pretty.
When Hermione headed the same direction, he shot out a hand, but just missed grabbing hold of her arm. He stood where he was for several moments, debating the wisdom of staying or following. He was torn between the two opposites. One the one hand, Hermione knew her parents better than he did. On the other hand, she was a Gryffindor. In the end, he sighed and followed reluctantly behind her.
They joined Hermione's parents just in time to see Ian Granger slump in visible defeat. "Alright, you win, my dear. I'll go."
Draco was about to protest, saying it really wasn't necessary, but the moment Ian's back was to his wife, a mischievous smirk played over the man's mouth. It was then that Draco realized it was all just a game to the couple. Dr. Granger wasn't put out about it in the slightest. He almost laughed then, giving the game away, but he quickly schooled his features before Mrs. Dr. Granger could see him.
Hermione leaned in. "She already knows, Draco."
Draco jumped having forgotten she was there. The smirk on her face told him readily that she well knew it. He didn't respond, simply turning back to Dr. Granger.
"Well, let's go, my boy, we have clothes to get."
"And we," Mrs. Granger added, looking at Hermione, "will get his school supplies. We'll have to-"
"That won't be necessary, Dr. Granger."
"Oh!" Mrs. Granger exclaimed, jumping and shooting a hand to her chest. "You startled the daylights out of me, Headmaster."
Draco himself couldn't quite prevent his own spin in the direction of the headmaster's voice.
"My apologies, Dr. Granger. I was just letting you know that Professor Snape and I have already picked up young Mr. M- Granger's school supplies. All he needs for school are his robes."
"Well," Mrs. Granger exclaimed brightly, "that makes things easier, then."
"You mean I'm off the hook?"
Draco's eyes widened as it hit instantly what Ian Granger's words meant to him. He'd be clothes shopping, alone, with two females. He'd done that once before. Never again! "No!" he yelped, then almost cringed as he had everyone's full attention. He automatically pulled out the charm, smiling at the only other man present - under a hundred. "You can't walk out on your fellow man, can you?" he asked, remembering very well, Hermione's assessment of this man as belonging in Gryffindor.
From beside the headmaster, Professor Snape snorted, rolling his eyes - And just when did he show up? - but Draco didn't let that distract him. He was on a mission.
Eyes twinkling as madly as the headmaster's sometimes did, Ian Granger slumped dramatically, heaving a very dramatic sigh. "You," he said pointedly, "don't play fair."
Draco smirked. Fair play was for Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. He played to win.
"That was definitely a low blow - well aimed, but low."
Draco's eyes widened slightly as he suddenly began to worry that he'd crossed some unknown line.
Dr. Granger laughed then, shaking his head as he stepped toward him. "Relax, young man. Sometimes low is the way to go. At least," he continued, shooting Mrs. Granger a smirking look, "so my wife tells me."
"You don't have a lot of time," Professor Snape said, cutting in before the banter could continue.
Draco found he was almost disappointed. It was quite interesting to see the dynamics between a Slytherin and a Gryffindor who actually got along! There was a growing suspicion in the back of his mind that a Slytherin-Gryffindor team would be unstoppable. He didn't think he'd ever forget just how Mrs. Granger had taken Mr. Granger's reckless, jump-in-the-fire plan and turned it into something truly worthy of a Slytherin. The best of both worlds; reckless impulsiveness tempered with cunning and the right amount of caution.
As the thoughts swirled around his mind, everyone around him was preparing to go and it wasn't until the headmaster and professor were set to leave that a horrifying thought hit him. "Who picked out my potions supplies?"
"I was beginning to wonder if you had suddenly transfigured yourself into a Gryffindor, Mr. Granger," Professor Snape sneered.
Draco cringed. He really should have wondered about that earlier, he supposed. In his defense, however, it had been a very long couple of days.
"I selected your potions supplies," the professor continued, much to Draco's relief.
"Thank you, Sir," Draco replied simply, not bothering to express his relief out loud. He needed to neither insult the headmaster by demeaning his abilities, nor insult his godfather by implying he needed to ingratiate himself to the man.
Professor Snape nodded once and the two older wizards took their leave. Draco could only assume that the wards had been dealt with and anything that needed passed on, had been. Unfortunately, he'd not been paying enough attention to know for sure.
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Hermione slipped her hand through the crook in Draco's arm, as if they were stepping into some party or other. It was the only way she could think of to give him support, since she knew very well, he would resent the implication that he needed support of any kind, especially from her. He was hiding it fairly well, she had to admit. She could see well enough, however, that he was nervous about this.
He leaned close, whispering. "How do muggles control these things without magic to guide them?" he asked, and Hermione could hear a little bit of panic in his voice.
"How do you control a broom?" she asked back.
Draco frowned, looking at her like she'd lost her mind. "You know how it's done," he replied. "You took flying class."
"Exactly," Hermione replied, smirking.
"That doesn't answer my question," he growled.
"Yes, it does. These cars are controlled by the people who drive them. Like you use your posture to regulate speed, they use the foot pedals. Like you use position to control direction, they use the steering wheel."
Draco head snapped away from her to stare at the car they were approaching, his expression approaching that of pure horror and panic. "You mean they use their hands and feet to control it!"
Hermione nodded.
"But," Draco protested, jerking to a stop, "what's to keep it from getting out of control?"
Hermione rolled her eyes; though, she really did sympathize. "Would you let your broom go out of control without something major happening to cause it?"
"No!" he huffed indignantly.
"Same thing."
"No," he denied firmly, "it's not!"
"It really is, Draco," she assured, valiently hiding her amusement. She really shouldn't be amused at Draco's expense. She certainly wouldn't appreciate someone laughing at her fears on a bloody broom. "You'll see," she added, really trying to help him feel better. There was just something so . . . child-like about being afraid of cars. It didn't help that it reminded her very forcefully of first year and the forbidden forest. Hermione was pretty sure she knew something that would get him in the car, however. Afraid he might be, but that wouldn't do anything to his competitive streak. She leaned close and whispered just a quietly as Draco's first question, assuring that no one else heard her. "Harry and Ron both ride in these things all the time."
Beside her, Draco stiffened, and she had to stifle another smile at his disgustedly muttered, "Gryffindors". He did start moving toward the car again, however, and said nothing further as they all got in. They only had one more iffy moment when she explained the seat belt - and what it was for. That hadn't exactly instilled a sense of confidence in him.
TBC
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