Note: Inspired by the mythological tale of Zal and Rudabeh for the 'Where the Gods Dwell' Dramione Fest!

Set in 7th Year, where Voldemort was vanquished by Harry and the Order before Draco would take the mark.

"Granger isn't a muggleborn?"

Draco gave his mate a sideways glance. He wasn't too keen on responding with the statement, but Blaise wouldn't stop asking him what his problem was. It was horrid because that wasn't the entire root of his problem. Normally—yes normally—Draco wouldn't give a rat's arse about Granger and her lineage. Things had changed drastically in the last two weeks between the two, however, that he couldn't keep the information to himself anymore.

"No, Blaise. She's not a muggleborn," he drawled, walking briskly from the dungeons towards the courtyard. The blond had to get away from the pestering Italian.

Why? Because Draco knew that Blaise wouldn't be sated with just that. He just wished that he would; where was a bloody djinn when a bloke needed one?

"How, exactly, do you know that?"

Draco cleared his throat, adjusting the tie around his neck in an aggravated manner. As he drew closer to his destination, Draco saw the familiar mop of curly hair already in the courtyard with her books. Of bloody course when he's trying to dodge the details of her personal life, she would be around.

"Tracey. They're cousins. Adoption and public scrutiny are nasty businesses, you know," Draco replied smoothly, keeping his eye from twitching with more success than he thought possible.

"Cazzate! I'd believe that no sooner than the jolly green giant being my uncle." Blaise was either ignorant to Draco's body language or didn't give a damn; knowing the Italian, it was probably both somehow.

Pausing in his step, Draco turned his head to Blaise and raised an eyebrow. Perhaps this would earn him a bit more time to finesse the situation. "Your uncle, you say?"

Draco received an unamused expression in return.

"You know I'm being sarcastic, you stronzo."

Draco shook his head, but he wouldn't have the chance to reply because Blaise had spotted Hermione before Draco could prevent it and steer him away. The blond cursed under his breath when his mate made a beeline for Hermione all the while muttering in Italian under his breath.

He didn't have time to stop Blaise before he flamboyantly pointed his finger in Hermione's direction.

"You!" he shouted. Instead of being startled, the bookworm glanced up slowly from the large book in her lap with her brow quirked.

"Can I help you, Zabini?" she asked.

Draco remained a small distance behind the other wizard and sucked in a breath. Whether it was for Blaise or Hermione was yet to be determined. The little devil on his shoulder hoped it would be for the former.

Blaise folded his arms expectantly and puffed out his chest. "As a matter of fact, you can. Draco says that you're Tracey's cousin, making you out to be a liar of your blood lineage."

The muscle in Draco's jaw ticked when he saw the small smile appear on the brunette's face. She was going to milk this one; he was sure of it.

"Did he now?" she replied, her chin lifting partially. "That's quite inconsiderate of him to divulge my privacy without me being present."

"The him in reference is right here," he grumbled as dread built and clenched in his gut.

Blaise raised a finger triumphantly, glancing at Draco smugly before the smugness slowly diminished. Draco could see the rusty bolts zapping in the Italian's mind.

"Wait a minute," he said, lowering his finger with a frown. "You're not denying the accusation? Why?"

Hermione's shoulders rose as she opened her mouth, and Draco flinched automatically; he knew it was all over.

"Well, he is my husband after all. I would like to be present for such things, especially if the conversation is about me and my not-so-filthy blood." She tilted her head and closed her book with a sharp snap, slowly beginning to rise from her position on the ground.

Blaise placed a hand on his chest and choked out a cough, his brows raised in astonishment. Before he could remark on her admission, Hermione waved her hand dismissively.

"Stop being so dramatic, Blaise," she said. "You're worse than Tracey."

"While I agree with that," Draco chimed in, sending the curly-haired witch a withering glance, "perhaps his dramatics result from the fact that you just revealed our secret fucking union!"

Hermione's cheeks flushed as she glanced between the two males, but she didn't back down. "How am I supposed to know what you have and haven't told them?" she demanded, placing a hand on her hip. "I would think a magical bonded marriage would be mundane in the community." She waved a finger disapprovingly at Draco. "And don't talk that way, Draco. It's beneath you."

Blaise stopped his outlandish reaction seconds after her statement. Draco knew it was too much to hope for his silence on the matter, "A magically bonded union? That's tattoos is it not? When could you ever—?"

The dark-skinned wizard was ignored; Draco gave Hermione a pointed look, discarding her last remark.

"It is mundane in the community," Draco emphasized, "not so casually to my friends."

"I'm not the one who came questioning and demanding things!" Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh before snapping her attention back at the blond. "Speaking of which, care to explain how I was the subject of your discussion in the first place?"

"We're getting ready to graduate, Hermione. I was trying to prepare things in a delicate natu—"

"Well, now it doesn't have to be so delicately prepared."

"Oh, is that right? I can't wait until Pothead and that weasel—"

Blaise stepped in between the two, waving his arms wildly to catch the bickering pair's attention.

"Hello! Is no one going to bother explaining this magical tattoo business and the married bit?"

Draco responded with a grunt and shook his head. Hermione shrugged, though the crease in her brows told a different story.

"It's a funny story, actually," she replied, her chest rising as she caught her breath from the heated argument with Draco. "Not so much as funny but more like so dreadful that anyone listening would laugh."

To be continued...!

*according to two translators:

- Cazzate = bullshit

- Stronzo = asshole

Word Count: 1,022