Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the plot.

*Blaise says a line from Order of the Phoenix, which I, obviously, don't own.*

A/N: Some notes for the story: 1) It takes place ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts, with the Prologue set nearly a year in the 'future'. To keep up with the timeline, please make sure to read the dates each chapter/scene takes place. 2) Most of the chapters will be from Draco's point of view, so his perception of unfolding events will be influenced by his personal feelings and ignorance of other people's motives. Keep that in mind when you read the story and try to withhold judgment

until the story is complete. I promise everything will make sense then.

My Father's Bride

Prologue

Saturday 26th, September 2009

Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire

"How are you holding up, mate?" Blaise Zabini's voice held a tone of amusement – probably at his expense, the right bastard! – as the Italian wizard, dressed impeccably in a dark blue, Muggle tuxedo, sidled up next to him without his noticing.

Forced to return his attention to the ballroom, he caught sight of the numerous young, eligible witches in attendance ogling them from across the room, their mothers urging them along; a shame really neither he nor Blaise were inclined to pay them any attention. Some of them were quite attractive, and if the rumour mill was to be believed, quite promiscuous as well.

A flash of familiar platinum blond hair caught his eyes from the opposite side of the vast room, and his body unconsciously tensed, his fingers tightening on the stem of his champagne glass. Try as he might, he could not stop his eyes from wandering to the small figure beside his father.

Unlike the younger wizards, who had chosen to wear Muggle style clothing to the event, Lucius had remained true to his roots and his position as the Head of one of the oldest, pure-blood families in the continent; his traditional, yet fashionable wizard robes were black, with silver trimming on his lapels and sleeves, and he wore his hair in his usual low ponytail, a silver and green ribbon holding them in place, a nod to his family's connection to Slytherin House.

A direct contrast to his traditional outfit was the young witch at his side; dressed in an off the shoulder white dress – quite obviously from a Muggle designer, – a split going up her thigh, she wore simple black, high heeled sandals, and the only jewellery he could see, was a familiar teardrop, emerald necklace, set in white gold. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a messy French twist, several strands deliberately escaping to frame her face.

His eyes followed the striking couple, and he had to admit they made a lovely picture as they danced around their guests, equally fluid and elegant in their movements, the witch's dress hugging her soft curves enticingly. Draco had to bite back a snarl when he noticed his father's hand straying a little lower than it was appropriate as the dance came to a close.

"Just peachy," he spat in answer, raising his glass and draining it, his eyes never leaving the brunette witch as she demurely curtsied to his father. A muscle in his jaw ticked when Lucius kissed her knuckles in a gentlemanly fashion before leading her to a small gathering of his closest associates and their undoubtedly dull wives. His hand shaking, he exchanged his empty glass with a full tumbler of firewhiskey from one of the enchanted trays floating around the room, draining that in one go as well.

"Easy there, mate," Blaise cautioned, halting his hand when he reached for another drink. "Lucius won't be happy if you get pissed and cause a scene today."

An inelegant snort escaped him.

"Like I could embarrass him more than he does himself!" he sneered, clearly agitated.

"That's beside the point –"

Fed up with everything, Draco pushed him aside and swept out of the room without a backward glance. Swearing under his breath, he made to follow after his temperamental friend; the feeling of eyes on him stopped him before he took a step though, and he looked over his shoulder, knowing who was staring at him before his eyes met hers.

For intents and purposes, the witch appeared to be engrossed in the conversation with the hideously dressed witch at her side, but her eyes – simmering with something akin to remorse, – were locked on his. He'd bet his inheritance that like Draco, she'd been staring at his blond friend whenever she could get away with it.

The two of them were so pathetically obvious, it made him want to pull his hair in frustration. Resisting the urge to march up to her and demand she go after his friend herself, he shook his head. The witch had her share of the blame for their predicament, but Draco had not gone into this mess blind; he'd known his actions were wrong, yet he'd dived headfirst into it, not pausing to think about the consequences like a darn Gryffindor.

They were equally at fault, but tonight was not the right time for a scolding; no, tonight Draco needed someone to be there for him, for he was about to hit rock bottom. Tonight, Draco needed a friend to help him pick up the pieces because Blaise had no doubt when the night was over, his friend's heart would be broken, perhaps beyond repair.

Throwing her a warning glance, he turned and followed the young blond out the doors, to the balcony that overlooked Narcissa's pride and joy, the Rose Gardens; as was expected, Draco wasn't there. He wouldn't lounge where anyone could stumble upon him. He was still a proud, arrogant man, and he'd rather chew off his own foot than let anyone see how far he'd fallen.

Sighing, he climbed down the marble staircase leading to the trail, looking over at the distance, where the infamous Malfoy labyrinth loomed over a small lake; he knew Draco would be there.

The night was unusually warm from the season, and half a moon cast the clearing in a soft light as the tranquil lake reflected the moonlight; Blaise sighed in quiet appreciation when he caught sight of Draco reposing on a stone bench, his long legs outstretched in front of him, his arms resting across the back of the bench. He had taken off his suit jacket, and rolled up his shirt sleeves, and looked pensive as he stared at the still waters, his grey eyes slightly obscured by his long fringe.

A twinge of attraction trickled down Blaise's spine, but he quickly squashed it down; this was not a road neither of them was willing to travel. It spelled heartbreak for him, and the loss of his best friend for Draco. The young wizard had enough on his plate, without his best friend declaring his inappropriate feelings for him.

Draco did not look startled when Blaise joined him on the bench, he simply let out a deep, suffering sigh, his expression morphing to resignation.

"How inconsiderate of you," he teased, eyes on the lake. "Your father would really use your support, and yet here you are, staring at a lake."

He would not breach the topic if Draco didn't bring it up himself; even now, Draco had refused to come clean about the reason for his depression. And the first step to moving on was admitting the truth.

"My support?" the blond sneered, earning an eye roll from his dark-skinned friend. "Why would I offer him any support? For tarnishing our family name? For betraying my mother's memory –"

"Narcissa died years ago, Draco," Blaise interjected rationally. "And she made her last wish abundantly clear. Have you forgotten it already?"

"I have not," Draco hissed, finally turning to look at him. "Just because she asked us to be happy, doesn't mean she wanted him to remarry! Especially to someone like her!"

"And pray tell, what is so opposing about her?" he carefully asked, keeping his excitement to himself. Draco was almost there, he just needed a little push to get his head out of his arse long enough to admit the truth. "Because I've to tell you, mate, from where I'm standing, your father could not have landed a more perfect witch." Ignoring his outraged stutter, he started ticking off the witch's many attributes. "Brilliant – after all, she's not known as the Brightest Witch of her age, for nothing! – and compassionate, she's better connected than you or your father, she possesses a sizeable fortune on her own, she's well-spoken, beautiful, confident, kind but not a pushover, ruthless when she has her mind set on a goal – usually something altruistic,– and let's not forget the fact your family's connection to her automatically ensures your name returns to its former glory!

"Merlin's beard, did you know that since your father came public about their relationship, public approval for your family has risen over twenty points in The Daily Prophet's monthly polls?

"And after the news breaks out about tonight's announcement, who knows what will happen!

"And don't even start on the blood purity bullshit," he cut him off ruthlessly, refraining from sneering outright. "I'm your best mate, I know you don't care about that shite. After all, Sofia, Anna, Melissa, they were all Muggles!"

Mouth tightening, Draco stiffened when his friend's eyes fell on him.

"I'll ask one more time, Malfoy, what's your problem? Honestly?"

For one glorious second, Blaise thought he had him; his grey eyes had softened, vulnerability glinting through, and he'd opened his mouth –

Pop.

They started, twisting around to see a house-elf, who merely blinked at startling them.

"What?" Draco barked, and Blaise almost cursed the creature when he noticed his eyes shuttering, his face expressionless.

Sniffing in affront, the petite elf fixed its younger Master with a glare worthy of McGonagall.

"Master Lucius requests you goes back inside, Master Draco. He's very angry, yes, he is. And Missus H–"

"Fine," he snarled, pushing up from the bench and grabbing his suit jacket. "You can go, Tipsy, I'm coming back."

Shrugging the fine material on, he smoothed the edges, and sneered; not bothering to check if Blaise was following, he started making his way back to the Manor.

"Can't even stand to hear her name, Drake?"

"Shut the fuck up, Blaise. You have no idea what you're talking about."

"You know what? You are right," he admitted, speeding up his steps to reach out to the blond, grabbing his forearm and forcing him to meet his eyes. They both halted their steps, just twenty yards away from the staircase that would lead them inside the Manor. "I don't know what I'm talking about because I have no idea what the hell happened between you two! Granted, I have my suspicions, but that's all they are; suspicions. Because you haven't said anything to me, or Theo, your supposed best friends!

"All we have are Astoria's tales, and let me tell you, that bitch has a lot to say about you and your future stepmother!"

"Do not call her that." He wrenched his arm free from Blaise's grip, glaring at the taller wizard.

Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Come on," he groaned, "ever since you came back from Greece, you've both been acting strangely. You avoid and ignore each other, and you quit any conversation when she's brought up!"

"So?"

"So, that's unlike you. You always, always, had something to say to her. You loved arguing with her, even when you actually agreed with her. Rallying her up, debating everything she says just to mess with her, it's your favourite pastime!

"I've known you since we were three years old, Draco, and I've never seen you behave that way with any other witch! She's the only one who can make you laugh at yourself." Mouth pinched, he decided to take the plunge. "When you were with her, you…"

Draco withdrew, girding himself for what he knew was coming; his heart beat a tattoo against his ribcage, and to his shame, he felt his eyes burn, but he refused to embarrass himself that way.

He hated her.

She'd done this to him, turn him into a pathetic, weak excuse of a wizard. With her brunette curls, and her warm, amber eyes and luscious mouth that always seemed to smile when she saw him, her wit and fire, and kindness, she had unravelled him and then left him to burn in the aftermath, while she moved on.

And most of all, he hated the fact that as many times as he told others and himself that he abhorred her, it still wasn't true. His heart still beats for her, and her memory still plagued his dreams.

"What? I was what, Blaise?" he asked, resigned. He was just so tired; he could no longer deny or argue the truth. Blaise was too intelligent to be fooled, so what was the point of hiding behind a lie? A lie he did not believe himself.

"Full of passion, and life," Blaise finished his sentence, watching him warily. "I've never seen you so full of passion when you argue with someone. She brought the spark that was missing in your life."

Taking a deep breath, he finally asked the question they both knew the answer to.

"You are in love with her, aren't you?"

Draco looked away. "Blaise –"

"Draco."

Lucius Malfoy stood on top of the stairs, looking regal as the light from the ballroom created a halo around his white-gold hair, his grey eyes simmering with disapproval.

"Father," his son greeted him coldly.

"Come," Lucius ordered. "It is time."

Without waiting for a reply, he spun, his robes swirling behind him, and entered the enormous room.

"You might not like your father much, Draco," he whispered, an amused grin on his lips, as they climbed the stairs, "but you gotta admit the man has style."

Draco cracked the first honest smile of the evening, which got wiped off when they entered the opulent room and saw Lucius standing of the raised dais where the Weird Sisters had been performing.

But it was not his father that held his attention; it was the figure clad in white beside him. His eyes zeroed in on the necklace glinting under the candlelight, and once again felt the familiar kick of his heart.

The necklace had been a birthday gift… from him.

And seeing her wear it as she stood next to his father… He felt nauseated.

Unconsciously, he noticed how rigid she was, her chin raised in stubborn defiance even as she was scrutinised by everyone present; her fingers were trembling, and he knew they were itching to fiddle with her dress or her hair, a nervous tick of hers, but she held herself proudly, daring anyone to look down on her for daring to stand up there with Lucius Malfoy.

His eyes narrowed when his father wrapped a casual arm around her slender waist, and she stiffened; his gut twisted when he saw her eyes search the crowd, and when they finally landed on his, he felt like he'd been punched when he saw the silent apology in them.

Warm, moist lips slanted against his, a petite hand tangling in his hair while the other traced his wet abs with hesitation… a groan as he pressed her harder against the wall, her soft mewls and whimpers falling in his questing mouth as he reached down, and grabbed her silky thighs, hoisting them around his waist and lifting her off of the floor, crushing her body between his and the wall… the sound of ripping fabric as he tore her white dress plainly in half, and he feasted on her heaving breasts…

"Ladies and gentlemen."

His father's voice brought him back from the sensual memory, guilt gripping him as he refused to avert his eyes, gearing himself for what was coming.

"I am positive many of you have wondered about the reason behind this event." He motioned around the room, a smirk on his face. "The truth is," he pulled her closer to him, his smirk widening while her smile remained uncomfortable, "we have an important announcement to make. And we thought it'd be better to hear from us, rather than read about it from the papers.

"I'm sure Rita would have paid quite a picture, but we all know what utter nonsense that story would be."

A few chuckles, mostly from his father's older friends.

Eyes darkening as they landed on him, Lucius seemed to pause for a second, before clearing his throat. He appeared almost pensive as he continued. "An important announcement indeed. But firstly… Draco, where did you go, son?"

Stomach in knots, Draco remained frozen as his father motioned for him to join them. "There you are! Come up here, my boy."

No... Don't do this to me, father, please.

But of course, Lucius had no pity for him, despite his lovely date's attempts to dissuade him.

"Of course, father," he drawled, adopting his pureblood smile easily. He shook off Blaise's grip on his shoulder, and crossed the room in long strides, smiling politely at the guests who parted out of his way. A feeling of impending doom weighed heavily on his shoulders with each step he took.

Merlin, his memories did not do her justice, was his only thought when he got up the dais and stood beside his grinning father. Up close, he could see the golden flecks in her brown eyes, and smell her familiar scent. The glimpse of her thigh left him reeling, his groin aching as he felt desire ignite inside him.

Does she still taste like strawber – No! Stop this right this instant! You are not allowed to entertain such thoughts, not anymore, you sick fuck!

"Here, by my side," Lucius instructed, his smile as fake as his own, and not for the first time, Draco wondered if his father had really smiled since his late wife's passing.

Forced to walk around her, he resisted the urge to reach out and touch her.

"Family comes first," Lucius intoned, watching him carefully, before addressing his guests once more. "As I was saying, it is my immense pleasure to inform you that after months of courting this lovely young woman, and much pleading on my part, she's finally decided to accept my hand in marriage. Our wedding will take place before the year ends!"

This wasn't exactly news for him, but he had not expected the wedding to take place so soon; knowing his father's expensive taste and preference for the grandeur, he'd have guessed they'd need at least a year, maybe two, to plan a wedding to his standards.

The reality of it struck him like a stunning hex.

It's not like they'd ask for your opinion. You don't matter here. And really, this is for the best.

His torment would be short-lived; after the ceremony, he'd have no reason to interact with her other than the few, obligatory family gatherings every year.

The silence did not last long; half the guests were still stunned, but the others were quick to gather close and start gossiping, occasionally throwing glances at them.

To his annoyance, Blaise had joined Theo and Daphne at the refreshment table, looking at him.

Fuckers.

Catching sight of her from his periphery vision, he noticed how pale she'd gotten; he cursed his inability to ignore her and his need to ensure her comfort. She tried to appear unaffected, but the lack of reaction to the news obviously upset her.

Careful not to appear rehearsed, he extended a hand to his father, a conciliatory smile on his face.

"Congratulations, father," he said clearly, glad he sounded sincere.

"Thank you, son." Lucius, the consummate performer, pulled him into a hug, patting his back like a dotting father.

Releasing him, Lucius stepped aside, evidently waiting for him to congratulate the future Lady Malfoy as well.

If only he knew…

Heart firmly lodged in his throat, he grasped for the remains of his self-control and when Lucius gently nudged her forward, Draco found himself breathless.

She's so fucking petite.

Reaching out, aware this would be the first time they'd touch since that fateful day nearly a month ago, he took her soft hand in his and raised it to his lips. He both felt her hand trembling and heard her soft gasp when his lips pressed to her skin, and he couldn't help the bitter smile at the confirmation that he affected her as well.

"Welcome to the family, Miss Granger," he enunciated, cordial and emotionless.

But when he made the mistake of looking into Hermione's eyes, he saw the passion and desire burning him up reflected there, and he almost lost all semblance of control.

Fuck this.