Note: This was initially an one-shot. Then it got too long and became a two-shot. Then it got too long again and became a three-shot. And a three-shot it is going to be. :) A rather long three-shot, though, I should warn you.

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Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter going once.

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That Fateful Night, Part 1 of 3

Hermione was staring at the mirror, at her own reflection looking back at her, clad in an expensive white dress, diamonds round her neck, and her curls tamed and up in an intricate hairdo. She knew she should be getting ready, but this was her last moment of silence before the horrible fiasco.

Maybe the word 'fiasco' wasn't quite what a happy bride should be using in reference to her wedding, but the way this week had gone by, in a horrible hurricane of preparation, she couldn't help but think that with so much worrying and trouble, something was bound to go wrong. The guest list of over 500 people plus reporters didn't help to calm her nerves either.

For the umpteenth time she wondered why in sweet Salazar had she agreed with having such a huge wedding. It had something to do with symbolism, that much she remembered. Something about the new era, the new beginning, the alliance between Purebloods and Muggle-borns, peace and prosperity. And also a great day for the media, of course. With all the attention the paper had given to their union over the past months, it was a crime not to invite their representatives. At least it wasn't Rita Skeeter who had come, that much she had managed to do.

She sighed, thinking about the chaos outside the room this very moment. The chaos which had fortunately required the immediate assistance of Hermione's three personal harpies – her bridesmaids, that is – and given her some space, and an opportunity to breathe.

Closing her eyes, she did just that, and opening them again, she realized it had actually worked. Perhaps it hadn't been her idea to have a big wedding, but it gave new hope to people devastated by the war, which had ended a year and a half ago, yet it took time to heal and recover; when everyone saw the symbol of new era, new beginning, and new happiness in it, then who was she to deny them that.

And in the end, it didn't really matter. As a little girl she had dreamed about her wedding, wearing a pretty dress and looking like a princess, just like all little girls, but life had taught her which things mattered, and which didn't. In the end, it was all about being with the one she loved, starting a new life together as a family, dedicating themselves to each other for ever.

That was what this day was all about, not floral arrangements and ice sculptures, or the pictures in tomorrow's Daily Prophet.

Recalling that, Hermione smiled, and the outside noise didn't bother her anymore. Even when the harpies rushed back, and started fussing around her, and reprimanding her for not being ready yet, she couldn't get neither the grin nor the dreamy look off her face.

"Earth to Hermione, earth to Hermione!" Ginny waved her hands in front of her friend's face, trying to get her attention, which she did.

"Can you believe it, Ginny," she turned around. "I'm getting married today. Sweet Salazar, I'm really getting married today."

"Sweet Salazar indeed," Ginny chuckled. "Believe me, Hermione, when I say that if someone had told me one year ago that you would be marrying Malfoy, I would have first laughed at them, then hexed them for talking nonsense, and then laughed myself crazy again. But here you are, sitting in front of me, a radiant grin on your face, a dreamy look in your eyes, happier than ever before, and not listening to a word that I've been saying because you are daydreaming again!"

She raised her voice in the end a bit, so that Hermione snapped out of her reverie.

"I'm sorry, Ginny, you were saying?"

Her redheaded friend sighed in frustration, but she simply couldn't get mad at her, not today, not with the this-is-the-happiest-day-of-my-life look on her face.

"Simply that I'm glad you are so happy," she said. "What were you thinking of just now?"

"Just remembering that fateful day," Hermione replied, but before Ginny could inquire further, a frazzled ball of nerves, also known as Hannah Abbot, Ron's current girlfriend and another one of Hermione's bridesmaids, rushed into their conversation, and started yelling about the bride not being ready yet, which of course alerted the other harpies, and together they all launched at her.

Still, even while being pushed and pulled this way and that, she could not get the memory out of her mind. The memory of that fateful night.

---

In another room, not too far from Hermione and her harpies, Draco happened to be staring at the mirror as well. Actually, in his case, he was doing more than staring – he was carefully looking himself over, making sure that he indeed looked perfect. After all, he couldn't let the Daily Prophet have him on photo with a single hair out of place. No, he was a Malfoy, he had to be perfect.

And not only for those 500 people who had all come to see with their own eyes the union of a Malfoy and a Muggle-born witch. Whose idea had it been to have a wedding this big, he wondered briefly. It probably had something to do with the pride and honour of the Malfoy name, which had suffered terribly during the war. It had taken much time and much trouble to convince both the Ministry and the society that they were not plotting a revenge for their Dark Lord, or planning to continue his mission. Draco would have simply sent them all to hell, but his mother had been close to a nervous breakdown at that time, and for her he was ready to work hard. And now, especially with his marriage to Hermione Granger, the Malfoy name seemed to be getting a bit cleaner.

Not that this was the reason behind their wedding. It was not a sham, although it very well could have been, and he was ready to bet half his fortune that more than just a couple of their guests did think so. Well, he sincerely hoped they weren't going to cause any scenes, and not just because it would look bad in the paper.

Because he had to be perfect for another reason; and for that today had to be perfect as well. And that was, of course, for his beautiful bride.

Never in a million years, at least before the previous six months, would he have expected to marry Hermione Granger, and feel himself the luckiest man on earth. But times change, and people change, and he was the first to admit it these days.

The months after the war had been the hardest for them. With Lucius dead and him on trial for the murder of Dumbledore and Death Eater activity, their future hadn't seemed too bright. Mostly, he was worried about his mother – should he be sent to Azkaban, she would be left all alone. He feared for what she might do with his husband dead and son in prison. Narcissa Malfoy was one of the strongest women he knew, but enough was enough, and even the strongest persons have their breaking points. He feared she might reach hers and do something stupid.

Draco loved his mother, and for her he was ready to do anything it took. Which meant he had to persuade the Ministry and Wizengamot to let him go, and like that wasn't hard enough, he also had to get on the good side of Harry Bloody Potter, the Saviour of All Wizardkind. Well, he didn't quite manage that, but Potter, being the Gryffindor he was and intent on speaking only truth, testified on his trial about that terrible night up in the Astronomy Tower, telling everybody how he had lowered his wand before the others rushed in. He testified that it had been Snape who had killed Dumbledore, not him. Of course, that had not been enough to save him from all the charges, so he had to do a lot of begging and ass-kissing (something that Malfoys never ever ever ever do), and spend a rather substantial part of the Malfoy gold to buy himself free.

And even then there were people still fighting for his imprisonment. One of them had been, as ironic as it was, his wife-to-be. Fortunately for them both (even though it took her time to realize it) Rome was not built in a day, and the Ministry couldn't be reformed under such a short time. It still remained part-corrupt, and there were still Ministry officials happy to let a suspected Death Eater go in exchange for a large sum of money.

Able to buy himself free, Draco could be there for his mother, and together they bore the scorn and accusations of the public. And together they worked to drag their name out of the dirt again. It took many efforts, and many drawbacks, but thanks to honest work, something that was quite new to both Malfoys, they managed to do it.

No, the Malfoys were not as respected as they had used to be, but at least they weren't thought as the source of all evil anymore.

Still, things had been hard for both of them, and Draco had quite given up on his personal happiness. He couldn't be the heartbreaker anymore because that was bad publicity, something they couldn't afford. So he had been simply alone, finding comfort from her mother, who couldn't give him all that his heart desired for.

He had been rather miserable, even though he tried to look happy for his mother's sake, until that one fateful night, when something he could have never imagined had happened.

---

The unmistakable feeling of another person in the room wakened Draco from his thoughts, which had been way too morbid for this pleasant occasion.

Raising his eyes he looked in the mirror instead of turning around, and saw Narcissa standing there, clad in beautiful azure robes that made her look young again, gazing intently at his reflection, a somewhat worried expression on her face.

Draco frowned and turned to face her.

"What's wrong, Mother?" he inquired softly.

"I should be the one asking that," she replied, tearing her gaze away from the mirror to look her son in the eye again.

"What do you mean?"

"You were looking so... gloomy just now. And it's supposed to be the happiest day of your life. But clearly something is wrong. Perhaps I misunderstood you, perhaps I rushed you too much, if this is not what you want..."

"No!" Draco cut her through so sharply that Narcissa flinched unintentionally.

"I'm sorry, Mother, I didn't mean to snap," he was quick to explain, his expression turning one of guilt now. They had gone through so much together, and she was the most important person in his life, well, one of the two now, and he never wanted to do anything to hurt her.

"That's all right," Narcissa collected herself quickly, noticing the look of guilt and horror on her son's face.

"You're just nervous, I know," she smiled, and his sharp features softened at that.

"I was just thinking, Mother," he explained, once the atmosphere had turned to pleasant again.

Narcissa didn't need to ask what he had been thinking about. All the past was still fresh in their minds, but she tried not to think about it as things were finally looking good for them. The Malfoy name was in good respect once again; but actually she couldn't have cared any less about some silly name, just as long as her son was happy.

It is every mother's deepest wish to see their child happy, and finally her wish had come true.

Glancing at her son, she noticed him deep in thought once again, but judging by the smile on his lips, those memories were good.

And once again, she knew exactly what he was thinking about.

---

It had been a cool and rainy evening, and the Manor had been especially gloomy. They had been sitting together in Lucius' old study, Draco at the table going over some figures about their business, and her sipping red wine in front of the fireplace.

It was their usual place of residence, escaping the rest of the empty Manor which suddenly had seemed too big and void for the mother and son. Which was odd because during the war she had often been there all alone, while Draco was at Hogwarts and Lucius away with the Dark Lord or in Azkaban; and at those times she had rather found comfort in these rooms and hallways where she had once been happy. But now it was cold and big and empty, and they had taken refuge in the only place which seemed to give at least some kind of comfort and warmth, and that was her dead husband's study.

But that night it seemed that the coldness had finally swept in there as well, and she couldn't help but shiver, despite the warm fire.

Behind her Draco had let out a long sigh, just a second before the loud chime of the bells rang through the empty hallways and reached their hearing, starting them both out of their lonely gloominess.

"Who the hell comes ringing that late in the evening," had been Draco's reaction to the doorbell, and had she not insisted, he might have simply ignored it. But as it was, he grumpily summoned a house-elf and told it to get the door.

The following minutes were filled with tension and curiosity, and it seemed like hours before the elf came back to announce their visitor. It never made that far, however, since the said person thought it better to open the door without knocking and simply march inside, before anyone had the chance to reject her.

And just like that, Hermione Granger had marched into Lucius' study on that fateful night, into the company of the last two Malfoys, and even though she hadn't known it at the time, into Draco's life for good.

---

Hermione chuckled, making Angelina's hand stray from its path as it had been applying lip-gloss to her lips.

"Look what you did now!" the girl exclaimed, being not much calmer than Hannah. "Stay still, or you will ruin everything."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione ignored her fussing, but forced her smile away, hard as it was when thinking back to Draco's reaction when she had simply walked into his room quite uninvited on that fateful night.

---

Hermione had never seen Malfoy quite this shocked and speechless ever before, not even when she had slapped him in their third year at Hogwarts. His jaw was open and he was staring at her, looking rather stupid.

In fact, it took him so much time to collect himself that Narcissa had taken the situation into her own hands.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," she had spoken politely, though rather coldly. "What can we do for you today?"

Hermione turned to face the older Malfoy, rather relieved at that change of events. Coming here she had had no idea what to expect, but the possibility of Malfoy yelling at her and throwing her out of the house seemed rather plausible. But now that Narcissa was here, and being rather polite, perhaps things would go a bit better, although she still thought it too early to get her hopes up.

"Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy," she smiled at her. "I'm sorry to bother you this late, I know it's not appropriate. And I'm sorry for barging in here just like this, I was afraid you might not receive me otherwise."

"Now why would you think something like that, Granger," Draco had muttered sarcastically, but fell silent at the look his mother gave him.

Oh, yes, they were reformed now. They were nice people now. Which meant they had to be nice to those who won that stupid war, and that also meant stupid Mudbloods like Granger.

"I'm sorry, perhaps I shouldn't have come," she hesitated, but as no one said anything at that, and she realized she really had no hope of getting any reassurance from these people, Hermione gathered her courage together and said what she had come to say.

"Mrs. Malfoy," she nodded at her and turned to Draco, hesitating for a second about what to call him, "Malfoy. I came here to apologize."

"For what?" he had been far too surprised again to hold back. Granger never apologized, least to his kind. Besides, she hated him. She had fought very hard to throw him into prison.

"I'm sorry I didn't recognize your try to start over. I'm sorry I tried to stop you, I'm sorry I tried to put you to Azkaban. I'm sorry I was still petty and revengeful and stuck in the past to not let you have a second chance, something we all deserve. I'm sorry I tried to ruin your life, both of your lives. It was very cruel of me."

She had lowered her head and was now staring at the deep green carpet on the floor, waiting for their reaction. None came. Looking up she saw Narcissa's cold and contemplative glance on her, and fought back a shudder.

"That's very considerate of you to come and tell us that, Granger," Draco spoke after a while. "But we don't need your pity, Granger. In fact, we need nothing from you. You tried to fight against us and you lost. Just face it, Granger, a filthy Mudblood like you is no match to the likes of us!"

"Draco!" Narcissa had gasped at that.

"Don't worry, Mother, she wouldn't dare anything. Because if you do, Granger, then I will make you regret it. I let you get away the first time, for I didn't want to get my hands dirty dealing with you, but if you try anything again, you will not escape that easily. Now get out of my sight and my house, Mudblood!"

"Draco!" Narcissa had scolded again, this time a lot louder and angrier.

"I will not let you act like this in front of my own eyes," she continued, still in that angry tone. "What Miss Granger said was right – we have been given a second chance and I will not let you ruin this. You be nice to her, and apologize right now, or I'll throw you out of the house, which, as you might remember, still belongs to me."

---

"I sometimes think I was too harsh on you that day," Narcissa commented with a mischievous smile.

"You think? You threatened to throw me out of the house, Mother!"

"An empty threat," she waved with her hand. "You knew I would never do that. But you were acting horrible. All the awful things you said to poor Hermione."

"She won't be poor for much longer," he said with a smirk but then turned serious. "I really hated her in that moment, and I still think I had every right to. You remember what it was for us, those months after the war, how I finally managed to escape Azkaban, and then had to deal with it all over again."

Narcissa nodded pensively. She remembered all that too well.

"You don't feel like that anymore?" she asked after a while.

"Mother!" he sounded hurt. "You know I do not. You know I love her with all my heart and soul, with every fiber, every cell in my body, with every thought in my mind. I love her more than life. More than anything else in this world."

"More than me?"

"Mother!" he said again, this time frustrated. "You know that... everything we have been through together..."

But Narcissa laughed, and shook her head.

"Don't lie to me, Draco. I know you do. And I wouldn't want it any other way. It's every mother's deepest wish to see their child happy, and seeing you talking like that, proclaiming your love for her so proudly, with such feeling and honesty... oh, Draco, I can't find words to describe how happy it makes me."

"Mother," Draco said again, with a much softer tone that had the recognizable whining quality to it which reminded her of his childhood and happier time.

And now he was going to be happy again. Narcissa couldn't help but cry at that.

"Mother!"

"I'm just so happy, my son. Just so incredibly happy to see you so incredibly happy."

Draco muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'Women!' under his breath, but he opened his arms and let her hug him.

"Things are going to be fine for all of us now, mother. Everything is looking up, everything is going to be just fine," he reassured.

"Oh, I have no doubts about it," she smiled. "I'm just so happy."

---

"Aaaaah!" Susan cried, running into the room.

"What?" Hannah almost fell off her chair.

"The ice-sculpture, the beautiful ice-sculpture, they forgot to put a Freezing Spell on it. Now it's half-melted! I saved what I could, but half of him is gone now!" she wailed.

"Good," Hermione smiled. "He really is too full of himself. Melting down a bit wouldn't hurt."

"This is serious!" Susan snapped. "The sculpture is ruined."

"So?" Angelina asked. "It's just one of many. Throw it out and move the others a bit, no one will notice anything missing."

"Of course they would!" Susan cried. "Those sculptures describe Hermione and Draco's road to love-" Hermione snorted. "-and you can't just take one away. The last is them having a picnic, and the next is him proposing! You can't just go from picnic to engagement! You need the kissing part first!!!"

"I'd say you need something else first as well," Angelina smiled mischievously. Having Fred Weasley as a husband had really rubbed on her.

Ginny laughed out on that.

"Believe me, your wonderful hubby and his twin already tried. Made a very nice sculpture, those two. Very detailed, and moved quite realistically."

Hermione snorted again.

"He never said anything to me," Angelina faked being hurt.

"Oh, I'm sure. Because our dear Hermione here," Ginny indicated towards the smirking bride. "Blasted the thing into pieces and spelled those sharp pieces straight at Fred and George. They made seven laps around the house before the ice finally melted."

Angelina chuckled.

"What? What was the sculpture about?" Hannah was too nervous to think right.

"Let's just say it involved pillows," Ginny winked.

"But what about the missing sculpture!" Susan wailed again.

"Why in Sweet Salazar did I ever agree to have all those silly sculptures?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Those sculptures are gorgeous!" Hannah shouted, and Ginny turned to the bride.

"So, why did you?" she inquired.

"I don't know," Hermione said, and took a moment to think about it. "I suppose because no one really asked my opinion about it."

"Well, they are still gorgeous," Hannah repeated, though a bit more calmly now.

"I think they are silly," Hermione stated. "Perhaps you should melt them all?"

"No!" Susan screeched. "No, no, no, no, no, no! Don't you worry, I'll deal with it. I'm sure that at the right angle no one would notice. Perhaps place one of the ferns to hide it..."

Still mumbling to herself, Susan left the room.

One down, three to go, Hermione thought.

"All right, girl," Angelina announced. "Enough of this mambo-jumbo! Time to get you presentable."

And she moved in to kill, armed with a lipstick in one hand and mascara in the other.

Seeing that, Hermione quickly went for her wand.

"I think I'm ready," she warned her harpies. "Let's just sit down and try to relax for a moment."

"Relax! I am relaxed!" the ball of nerves shouted.

"I don't think your wedding day is one to relax," Angelina said. "I remember my wedding day. I remember sneaking away under the cover of the chaos and meeting Fred for a quickie at that broom-shed in the yard. Really, forbidden fruit does taste like heaven. But there was nothing relaxing about that, however. Especially when Molly caught us sneaking back."

"So that's why Mum was shouting like there was no tomorrow!" Ginny exclaimed. "I thought it was about the yellow roses instead of white. So, Hermione, want to sneak away under the cover of the chaos?"

"I'd rather not. With the press snooping around they might get a good picture of us, and that's not one I'd like to see on tomorrow's Daily Prophet's cover."

"I would!" Ginny stated.

"Oh, hush," Hermione waved at her. "You already got to see the ice-sculpture."

"Oh yes!"

"Anyway, I thought we could sit down for a bit and talk."

Her three bridesmaids changed confused looks, until their faces suddenly lightened with understanding and they sat down at once.

"So," Angelina started carefully. "Are you nervous?"

"About the wedding? I suppose I am a bit, with so many people attending. I feel like something quite embarrassing is destined to happen. But about the marriage? No, I'm not. I know this is exactly what I want."

Three girls nodded almost synchronously.

"Aren't you nervous about afterwards?"

"Afterwards?" she frowned.

"You know, after the party."

"What's happening after the party?"

Three girls stared at her intently, until Hermione finally got it and burst out laughing.

"Now why would I be nervous about that?" she breathed deeply, once her laughter had subdued.

"Well, many girls are afraid..." Angelina said slowly.

"Were you?"

"No, but it wasn't our first time, either."

"And what makes you think it's ours," Hermione smiled. "You all heard about the sculpture, didn't you? And you, Ginny, saw it."

"Yes, but..." Now it was Ginny's turn to get nervous. "You said you wanted to talk."

"I did. Just not about that."

"Oh. Then what?"

"Let me tell you a story."

"A story?" Angelina asked incredulously.

"Yes. A story about a fateful night, when a girl walked into her enemy's home to ask for his forgiveness."

---

"Mother!" Draco turned to Narcissa in shock. He could have sworn she had just told him to apologize to the Mudblood who had tried to ruin their lives, but that couldn't have been right, could it?

"Draco!" she retorted coldly. "Do as I told you."

"But... why?"

"Because she is our guest. Because she came her to apologize. Because we got our second chance and have no right to deny it to someone else. Because we try to be better people now. Take your pick, Draco."

"How about because we need good publicity and she can give us that?"

"Draco..." Narcissa's voice was dark.

"No," Hermione said quickly, reminding them of her presence. "I'll take it. I deserve it. It's only fair that I help you clean your name after I dragged it through dirt myself."

"You are too kind, my dear, but I will not allow it," Narcissa announced. "We are where we are only because of our own deeds, and not anyone else's. We have to clean up our own mess, and that's what we will do. But you, my dear, should sit down and have some tea. We don't have much company these days, and you are very much appreciated here. And not just tonight. Come always when you want – our doors will be open to you. You have been forgiven, my dear, and now it's time for us to ask your forgiveness. I know my husband has done evil things to you and your kind, and my son hasn't treated you like you deserve, either. And even I have had bad thoughts of you and wished you ill. Can you forgive us for all the things we have done to you?"

Looking straight into her eyes, Hermione saw only sincerity and pain in their blue depths.

"Of course," she nodded and smiled.

"Thank you, my dear," Narcissa smiled back, but now her look was not one bit cold anymore. "Draco, dear..."

"I think she deserves everything she got," he spoke darkly. "And I don't want her forgiveness."

With that he stood up, ignored his mother's calling out for him, and left the study.

"Don't worry," Narcissa said after a while. "He will come around."

---

"You were right, Mother, I did come around," Draco sighed.

"You did," Narcissa nodded. "You did in time."

---

"That's the most romantic story I have ever heard," Hannah wiped her eyes.

Hermione gave her a funny look.

"Yes, because Draco announcing I deserved everything I got is indeed oh-so-romantic," she drawled sarcastically.

Hannah sobbed again.

"Well, you got him," Ginny observed. "And I suppose you do deserve that."

Hermione gave Ginny a mock-angry look, and all the girls dissolved in laughter. The level of nervousness had noticeably reduced.

"All right," Ginny said at last. "Let's get you married now."

---

"All right," Narcissa said. "Let's get you married now."

Draco grinned stupidly, which made her laugh again, laugh until she cried.

"Oh," she sighed, breathless from her laughter. "I never imagined it would come to this when I met Hermione that fateful night and paid her to go out with you."

Narcissa laughed again, and then suddenly froze, thinking back to her words.

...when I met Hermione that fateful night and paid her to go out with you...

Oh no! She had not just said that. She did not just say this.

Tingles of fear running down her spine, Narcissa glanced at her son, hoping against all hope that he had not heard her. At first, when she saw his back turned, she thought this had really been the case, but her sigh of relief died on her lips as she saw his reflection in the mirror.

Ice. Stone.

He stood motionless, his face hard and cold, skin as pale as snow, his grey eyes turning darker and darker.

He was quiet, but she knew this silence would not last.

Narcissa forced out a laugh which sounded fake and frightened even to her own ears.

"Oh, come now, Draco," she tried to tease. "Don't say you took me serious. I was just joking. Of course I didn't pay Hermione to go with you."

But his expression didn't change, and she felt freezing coldness form in her own heart. Everything had gone so well. He had been so happy. Everything was going to be fine. And now this. Now her stupid slip of tongue. Now her revealing a secret she had sworn to take into her grave.

The truth was out. And it was not pretty.

No, it was not pretty at all.

"Liar," Draco spoke so softly she almost missed it. "You can't lie to me, Mother, and you know it."

He was right. She couldn't lie to him. They had gone through far too much, they knew each other far too well to not realize when the other was lying. Narcissa had always treasured that knowledge, the fact that they had such an open relationship; now she wished it wasn't so.

"Draco," she said slowly, abandoning her pretenses. "Please."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Why, Mother?" he asked, his eyes still shut.

"Because I wanted you to be happy," she answered, dropping her gaze.

Draco nodded slowly, as if coming to a decision.

"And I was happy."

She gasped in horror at the past tense. Surely things were not this bad... surely...

"You gave me happiness, Mother, with your gold. And now you took it all away, with just one sentence. Words are as potent as riches, are they not, or perhaps even more."

Narcissa was going to say something, to explain, to make things good again, when he suddenly let out a laugh so bitter it made her flinch.

"I knew it was too good to be true."

And then, before she could stop him, Draco Disapparated, leaving her stare into emptiness in horror.

She just wanted him to be happy, like any mother would. But she had forgotten that there were some things you did not tell your son on his wedding day.

And now with one sentence she had ruined the lives of the two most precious persons to her.

---

"You look beautiful," Hannah cooed, looking at Hermione, and sighing.

"Thanks. I'm sure you will be in my situation very soon," she smiled.

Hannah blushed and looked down, as the other girls grinned.

"What do you think Susan did with the sculptures?" Angelina asked suddenly.

"I don't know. And really, I don't care. I have a feeling I have eyes for only one in this wedding, and I'm not talking about the sculptures."

"Aww," Hannah sighed again. "How romantic."

"Hannah, girl," Ginny spoke. "If you get so emotional at this, you might not survive the wedding."

They all chuckled, including Hannah.

"All right, time to go," Ginny announced and opened the door, finding Narcissa standing there.

"Can I talk to Hermione for a moment?" she asked. "Alone."

Ginny, who knew how close Hermione and Narcissa had become and how much of a mother she had been to her after the death of her own parents, took this as nothing more than a mother-daughter moment, and nodded with a smile.

"Of course, Mrs. Malfoy, she is all yours. Let's go, girls," she led the harpies out of the room.

"Narcissa," Hermione breathed happily and embraced the woman. "I am so happy. Thank you, thank you so much, for helping me become this happy."

Narcissa swallowed her tears. This was not going to be easy. She had already taken away the happiness of her son, and now she had to do the same to her daughter-in-law, who she had come to love as her real daughter.

But she had to do it. If she wanted to save the situation, she had to do it.

"Hermione," she said softly, pushing the girl away from her.

The bride smiled and looked into her eyes, but instead of the tears of happiness, she could only see those of horror.

"What... what is it?" she asked in terror, taking a backwards step.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Narcissa told her, and tears spilled from her eyes. "It was a slip of tongue. We were so happy, and laughing, and then I opened my stupid mouth and said this."

"What did you say?" Hermione asked, backing further away, even though she felt she knew the answer.

"I told him the truth. About that fateful night."

Hermione's reaction was so similar to Draco's that Narcissa felt a stab of pain penetrate her heart. Her face went white and still as stone, and her warm brown eyes that had been so merry just a moment ago, darkened. Only not in anger, but in horror and despair.

She fought hard to keep her face expressionless, and even though she did not have years of training like Draco, she somehow managed it, with only one single tear coursing down her cheek and dropping into her white gown.

She turned away and sat down in front of the mirror, her look so empty and void it was painful to see.

Because Narcissa knew Hermione, too. And she knew when she was hurting, and right now her gaze told her everything she didn't want to know.

"I'm so sorry," she said again. And she really was. Right now Narcissa would have given her life to take back those words.

"It was destined to come out sooner or later," Hermione spoke, her voice cool but shaking.

"Perhaps, but later would have been better. After the wedding..."

But Hermione was shaking her head.

"No. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore."

"Hermione!" Narcissa cried. "You have to talk to him. You have to try. At least, you have to try!"

"What's the point," she chuckled bitterly. "He wouldn't listen anyway. He is way too proud for that."

"He loves you. He will listen to you. You just have to try."

When Hermione started shaking her head again, Narcissa marched up to her, grabbed her shoulders and turned her around, looking deep into her eyes, past the void into the pain and sorrow.

"Hermione Jane Granger, I love you like you were my own daughter. I love you and Draco more than anything else, more than my own life. I will not stand idle and let you two ruin your lives. You go find him right away, and you tell him everything, and if you won't do it for yourself, or for me, then do it for Draco. He deserves an explanation. He deserves happiness."

For a long moment they were both silent, with Narcissa willing the younger woman to understand this, and Hermione staring back at her.

Then...

"You are right. He deserves an explanation," Hermione said and Disapparated.

---

It had been too good to be true. And when things were too good to be true, they usually weren't true.

She was too good for him. Too beautiful, too good, too kind. He didn't deserve her, never had. And yet he had let himself think that he had her, that she was his, mind and body and spirit. All of her.

...when I met Hermione that fateful night and paid her to go out with you...

His mother had paid her to go out with him. He knew she had, he had seen it in her eyes.

What else had his mother paid her to do? Had she paid her to kiss him? To sleep with him? And now to marry him?

They still had their Malfoy fortune, and with that she could have afforded to buy her son any woman she wanted. Even Hermione.

A sharp pain shot through his heart. She shouldn't be doing this. She was too beautiful, too kind, too pure to sell herself like that. And he loved her too much to have her do it.

No more.

Standing on the balcony he looked down into the garden, decorated with flowers and ferns, with ribbons of red and silver. Rows and rows of white chairs, tables, glasses, ice-sculptures.

However big their ballroom was, it was still too small for 500 people. So they had decided to use the garden.

He saw figures fussing about, taking care of last minute preparations. Most guests were already there, sitting on the white chairs, talking to each other. By the red hair, he quickly found the Weasley clan, and Potter amongst them.

They were probably going to kill him afterwards. He didn't care.

It had all been a lie. A beautiful lie, but still a lie.

---

"Let me tell you a story," she whispered, resting her back against the wall and watching him stand by the railing.

"I just told one to my personal harpies a.k.a. bridesmaids, one about me deserving everything I got. Hannah thought it was so romantic that she started to cry."

"Don't," he stopped her.

"Don't what?"

"Don't apologize."

She stayed silent for a few moments, staring at the horizon and letting her tears flow freely.

"Fine. I won't apologize, even though I should. But I will explain."

He didn't object, and she started her story.

"You remember that fateful night just as clearly as I do. But there was more to it than you know. Something that happened before I paid you that visit..."

---

The weather was just as grey and somber as Hermione's mood. It was not raining yet but it felt like it would start any second now. She was walking down Diagon Alley aimlessly, dark thoughts spinning in her mind. Today had been a very bad day to her. A very bad day.

She had loved working in the little bookshop in Muggle London. It had not been just a Muggle shop, though, servicing to both wizards and Muggles. Owned by a wizard truly believing in peaceful co-existence with Muggles, it had had the coziest atmosphere and the nicest staff of mostly Muggle-borns. The pay wasn't great, but she loved her work, and her colleagues, and the books of course – both the Muggle ones available to everyone and the magical ones hidden from non-magic folk.

In fact, the pay was so little she had to get herself another job, a night job in a pub, but with that only being part-time and her love towards the bookshop as great as it was, she had managed to do both, however tiring it sometimes got.

Hermione had loved the idea of witches and wizards browsing Muggle books, but those witches and wizards apparently hadn't agreed. And since the shop offered both, it's choice of Muggle books wasn't as big as other places nearby, and both magic and non-magic folk had found better places to do their shopping.

And so, one fateful day, the little cozy shop was out of business, and Hermione out of job.

And like that wasn't enough, she mused sourly, coming to stop before Madam Malkin's for no particular reason, her landlord had decided to raise the rent. And not only raise it, but demand it one month in advance. She had tried to explain how she was between jobs right now, how she would have to find another, how she would pay him like she always had. But he had said no, and now Hermione was homeless as well.

What a fall in one single day!

It started raining, and even though the concept of standing in the rain and freezing herself to death didn't seem too bad at the moment, she jumped into the shop for refuge.

Well, she could borrow that money, of course, she pondered, walking round the shop and looking at the clothes at display. She still had a little money left, she could buy herself a pretty dress, stand by the road, and hope her knight in shining armour would pick her up. Then they could sell his horse and shining armour, and keep her little apartment. And she could find herself another job, and they could live happily ever after.

She could borrow it, but she didn't want to. Sure, Harry was rich enough, but with him just starting a family with Ginny, they would sure need that money for themselves. Hermione didn't want to bother him with her worries, and she was a bit too proud to announce her failure.

She could do it on her own. She could. She could.

She could buy that dress and stand by the road and freeze herself to death in the rain. The answer to all of her problems.

"I'd choose the green ones if I were you," a voice spoke up, and she was startled from her morbid thoughts. Looking up she saw the bright orange robes in front of her, and the green ones just next to them.

"Oh, of course," she sighed wistfully, even thought in this weather she really would have to wear bright orange for her knight to notice her by the road in the first place.

Turning around, she was to smile at Madam Malkin, when quite a different view opened up to her. Instead of the merry shopkeeper, she was facing a blonde woman, standing straight and proud before her.

It took her a moment to realize where they knew each other from, but once the realization hit, it hit full-force. Hermione stiffed, and draw to her full height as well, forcing her expression into one of polite defiance.

"Miss Granger," the woman nodded, and the last hope of her not recognizing her was wiped from Hermione. But it was foolish of her to think that in the first place, for who would forget the person who had tried to destroy them?

"Mrs. Malfoy," she repeated her gesture, hoping the blonde would leave, not in the mood for a session of refined insulting. But once again those hopes were in vain.

"You should try them on," Narcissa had spoken indifferently, but she had still said something other than just the necessary greetings the manners demanded of her, and stayed put even though she could have left.

"I..." Hermione was a bit taken aback by that suggestion. After the day she had had, it wasn't so surprising, though.

So when Narcissa had taken the robes off the clothes rack, handed them to Hermione, and pushed her towards the dressing rooms, she had done it without a protest.

Perhaps it was all one bad dream.

The robes were beautiful, though, she managed to notice. Its deep forest green colour combined with her brown hair and eyes gave her the prefect look of a nature spirit; the material was soft and delicate against her skin, and hugged all the curves of her body in an elegant way.

Wearing that she wouldn't have looked too out of place in some fancy high-class ball, but it still preserved and exhibited her passion and freedom of spirit. Which was funny because those things were rather opposite, and in the end she was still a plain bookworm.

Once outside the dressing room, she was greeted by the joyful cries of Madam Malkin who insisted that the robes had been made for her, and that it would be a crime not to buy them.

Later Hermione wondered whether she had been hit with momentary stupidity, which managed to last a bit longer than just a moment, because she had actually spent the last of the little money she had and desperately needed on the fancy robes she didn't need at all.

But this prompted something else to happen, and a whole set of actions were put into move with her purchase; or perhaps with her simply being in the right place at the right time.

"Miss Granger," Narcissa addressed her once again, making her start because she had forgotten her presence. "Now that you look slightly more presentable, would you mind joining me for dinner at the Diamond Hall?"

Hermione opened her mouth to deny politely, but halted her words. She knew it would have been the right thing to go home, into her lovely little apartment to sleep one last night in her own bed, then pack her bags in the morning, and go – but where? She knew going with Mrs. Malfoy to one of the most expensive and high-class restaurants would mean trouble, especially since she now had no money to pay for the food. But there was something so depressing about sitting at home and staring at the rain outside, thinking about the future that was so much more depressing, while she could go to some fancy place in her fancy robes and pretend she had no such worries.

And the day had been so depressing already that she could not bring herself to care about the trap she might be walking into.

---

"I can't say that the dinner was a comfortable or comforting affair," Hermione smiled wistfully, staring at the clouds at the horizon. "I might have been a bit hazed and confused from my day, but I still had some surviving skills that kept me in tension the whole time, waiting for the blow to come and preparing myself for it to fall."

"Did it?" Draco asked so coldly she shivered. It was the first time he disrupted her story.

"Yes, it did," she replied.

---

"Miss Granger, there is a matter of great importance I would like to discuss with you," Mrs. Malfoy said once they seemed to have run out of all the pleasantries and small talk.

Hermione barely managed to keep back her sigh of relief. This was the moment she had been waiting for the whole evening, this was the reason she had been asked to the dinner. The suspense had kept her strained the whole appetizer and main course, now, as they were waiting for the dessert to be served, everything was going to be revealed.

"Miss Granger, there is something I need to ask of you. A favour, you may call it," she spoke, and nodded to the waiter who placed the crystal bowl of chocolate mousse in front of her first, and then did the same for Hermione.

"Yes?" she prompted when Narcissa had paused to give her a severe look to see whether her sentences had been heard and understood. She had no need to worry, Hermione was practically hanging on her every word, even those yet unsaid.

"I know that you did everything in your power to have my son sent into Azkaban."

Hermione's expression didn't change – the woman had said exactly what she had expected of her; after all, what else could have been there for them to discuss? What really mattered were her next words, words that definitely would held a promise of revenge, or threat in them.

"Are you still pursuing that goal?" Narcissa's pale blue eyes had darkened into the colour of the stormy seas, and Hermione realized she wasn't the only one here under strain. The older woman looked like her life depended on her answer, though Hermione was sure it was her own life that was going to be threatened this night.

She weighed her answer carefully. The truth was that despite all her efforts she had no chance any more to continue that matter. In fact, it was her fight against Malfoy that got her fired and thrown out of the Ministry in the first place, and even though her friends had protested for her, it hadn't changed things. Perhaps they would have managed to achieve the justice in the end, but she had pleaded with them to drop the matter. She craved for the fairness more than anyone else, but wasn't ready to risk tearing the Wizarding world into two again, so close after the end of the war. Instead she had acted like a true Gryffindor, and sacrificed herself for the sake of greater happiness. Not that she had minded it back then – the little bookshop was her idea of a perfect job, after all. But now...

"And what if I am?" she answered defiantly.

"Then I must ask you to let it go."

"And what if I refuse?" Hermione inquired, her own eyes blazing in fury now.

"I insist," Narcissa said calmly, her gaze almost unbearable to hold. But Hermione was way too proud and way too stubborn to look away. The air around them seemed to sizzle with electricity, it felt heavy and explosive, like moments before a thunderstorm.

"And what if I still refuse?" she replied, ignoring the voice of reason in her head which whispered that it would be a very, very good idea to get the hell out of there right this moment, if not earlier.

Because this was the meeting place of the rich and the powerful, of high-class purebloods, of people who hated her and the likes of her. Because she realized Narcissa Malfoy could probably murder her on the spot, and get away with it.

She didn't seem as ruthless and malicious as her late husband, but there were few things a mother would not do for her child. And surely Hermione was a threat to her son.

---

"You thought she would kill you?" Draco asked, a note of incredulously in his otherwise emotionless tone.

"I didn't know her back then," she answered quietly. Now that she did, she felt so ashamed of her thoughts on that fateful night, of what she had thought the sweet woman and kind mother being capable of. Narcissa Malfoy was not only incapable of murder, but didn't want to harm anyone. True, she loved her son with all her heart, and would have done a lot for him, but the use of violence was her last resort, something she would use only if everything else failed.

"You knew my father, and you knew me. So you made the conclusion of all Malfoys being monsters."

"No," she shook her head.

"No?" he asked, his voice indicating he knew she was lying.

"No," Hermione repeated. "I didn't know you."

---

"Don't," Narcissa said so softly she would have missed it had she not been listening to her so intently. But her expression and tone still meant danger.

"And why not?" Hermione couldn't keep herself from asking. One of her hands moved to crab her wand, ready to leap up from the chair and fight a dozen Dark Curses the next second.

"Because," Narcissa said. "Because it would break my heart to see my son sent to that awful place."

Hermione stared at her a moment, then blinked rapidly, unable to comprehend. The tension in the air was gone, the danger was gone, all that was left was sadness.

Her brain slowly started to register the clatter and chatter in the restaurant again, something the tension around their table had blocked away for a while. Looking around, it was as if she had woken from a dream.

People eating and drinking, talking and smiling to each other, people who had been ready to draw their wands and curse her just a moment ago. Or at least so it had seemed to her.

The candles in the air sparkled merrily, and the soft light around them was warm and comfortable.

Turning back to her companion, instead of a murdering Death Eater all she saw was a worried mother, a lonely tear coursing down her cheek as she thought about the horrible future of her son.

And suddenly Hermione felt herself like a real bastard. Her earlier analogy seemed to be correct. It was as if she had woken from a dream, as if she had opened her eyes at last and seen the real world.

She had despised Malfoy for his prejudice against Muggles and Muggle-borns, and now she had done the same. Having dealt with both Lucius and Draco, she had classified Narcissa as the same – ruthless and malicious, capable of anything. Without a moment's thought, a moment's doubt she had thought the worst of her... but now she was able to see the sincerity in her eyes... the honesty, the concern, and the deep sadness.

She was a woman worried sick for the safety and welfare of her son. She was as far from a murderous monster than anyone could be. In fact, Hermione felt herself a much greater monster at the moment.

"He is not that bad," Narcissa continued, misunderstanding her confusion. "He might be cold and ruthless sometimes, but his heart is in the real place. I know he has done some awful things, that he has treated you bad in the past, but... you don't know what it's been like for him. He had to live up for so many expectations, he had to be perfect, act perfectly, become what he was meant to be. Lucius, may he rest in peace, had made his choice a long time ago, and there was no other choice for him, for both of us. True, it was our fault as well that we didn't try, that we didn't look for the truth, that we didn't think for ourselves, that we accepted everything that was given to us. We wanted it simple and safe, not ready to put ourselves in danger for the sake of a greater good. We put ourselves, and our safety first, and didn't care for the rest of the world. We made that mistake.

"But, Miss Granger," she turned her pleading eyes towards the girl. "We have realized our mistake. We are willing to change, to become better persons. All we ask for is a second chance. Perhaps we won't deserve it for everything we have done, but I beg you, Hermione, I beg you. I'm not asking for forgiveness because it would be too much to ask, but... just another chance. To make amends. To correct our mistakes. To help those we have hurt. One chance, that's all that I'm asking."

Hermione was having more than little trouble to understand what she was hearing. Too much, way too much during one lousy day. She was tired, she was confused, she was incapable of thinking at the moment. She couldn't, she just couldn't deal with it at the moment.

So she did the only thing she was able to do, not realizing what it meant for the other woman.

"No," she shook her head. "I can't. I simply can't. I'm sorry, I have to go."

With those words she stood from the table, and fled the restaurant.

---

Once back at home, at her little cozy apartment that was not going to be her little cozy apartment for much longer, Hermione made herself a large cup of tea, and sank into her sofa, sipping it.

Soon after drinking up her tea, she fell asleep, and didn't wake before it had already grown dark and stormy outside. She stretched herself for a moment, and wondered how it had happened she had fallen asleep like that, when everything rushed back to her.

Her job, her apartment, and Narcissa Malfoy. And it was the last thing that hit her the hardest because now, after her most needed rest, she was suddenly able to comprehend what had happened in that restaurant – what she had asked, no, pleaded of her, and what answer she had given her.

And just like that the loss of her job and the trouble with her apartment didn't matter anymore. All that counted was that a desperate mother had begged for a second chance for herself and her son, and she had refused her that. True, she hadn't known what she was doing at the moment, but that was no excuse. She should have known, she should have made herself understand, and she should have done the complete opposite.

Not willing to lose another moment, Hermione jumped to her feet and hurried into the bathroom for a quick shower, then dressed, and Disapparated. It didn't matter it was late, it didn't matter she was freezing cold in the rain and wind before the Manor's front gate, it didn't matter that she was less than welcomed into the house which she was about to enter.

All that mattered, all she could think about was making things right.

---

"You know what happened then," Hermione spoke, willing him to turn around and look at her, even with hatred. But he didn't turn, and he didn't speak.

"I remember that night as if it had happened yesterday," she continued. "That fateful night. The worst day in my life, and at the same time, the best."

"You haven't told me yet how my mother paid you to go out with me," Draco said, finally removing himself from the railing, and walking past her into the room, without sparing her one look.

It hurt, she couldn't deny it. But she deserved it, didn't she? He had been right that fateful night months ago – she deserved everything she got.

Afraid he might leave, Hermione followed him back inside.

"No, I haven't," she said, watching him stand before the fireplace, gazing into the flames.

"But I will. I will. It all happened that night. That very same night, after you had left the room, and I was having tea with your mother."

---

Hermione was the first to break the silence that had fell upon them with Draco storming out of the room, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as she would have expected. Still, both sipping their tea, Narcissa had the look which prompted her to say something, anything. And she realized that the easiest thing to do was to explain.

"Mrs. Malfoy, there's something I have to explain to you," she began, took another sip of hot tea for courage, and went on. "Today, at the Diamond Hall, I didn't mean what I said there. When I said 'no', I didn't mean I couldn't give you another chance, I simply meant I wasn't able to deal with a matter so serious at that time.

"You see," Hermione placed her cup on the table and turned to face the older woman who was sitting by her side, "I hadn't been having a good day. In fact, it had been rather awful, and I was tired, and confused, and tired, and I just felt that all the things kept on and on piling up on me, too much had happened during that one day, and I simply couldn't deal with everything at that point. I just... I was tired, and confused, and I didn't realize what I was refusing."

"Is everything all right?" Narcissa asked, and the concern in her tone was real. Seeing Hermione's blank face, she added, "You said you were having a bad day."

"I'm fine, really," she exclaimed, a little too loud and a little too merrily. "Thanks for asking."

But Narcissa Malfoy knew when she was being lied to. Living her life with Lucius and Draco had taught her to read everything even from the smallest wrinkle or movement of muscles, but even without her training she would have realized the girl was not telling the truth, so obvious were her lies.

She didn't start prying because it wasn't really her business at all, but she gave her this long look she had used on Draco on countless times, and it usually worked. So it did now, for Hermione was still a bit overwhelmed from her day, and besides, she really needed to talk to someone about it.

"I lost my job today," she said and let her shoulders sag a bit.

"I'm very sorry to hear that, dear," Narcissa answered sincerely. "What job was it?"

"It was a bookshop," Hermione explained, already feeling better for having someone listening to her. "It was this little bookshop that handled both wizard and Muggle books, and sold them both to wizards, and Muggle books to Muggles."

"Well, that sounds like a great idea for business."

"It might sound, but it isn't. Wizards obviously don't like shopping with Muggles, and Muggles weren't too fond of the shop either. So it went out of business."

"I'm very sorry to hear that, dear."

Hermione nodded miserably, and poured herself another cup of tea.

The clock by the table chimed eleven.

"Eleven," Hermione counted its strikes. "It's already eleven."

Narcissa opened her mouth to answer when the girl suddenly let out a horrified gasp, and sloshing some tea onto her robes, jumped to her feet, her face going very pale.

"Oh Merlin!" she cried out. "It's eleven o'clock. I'm late to work. On no, oh no, oh no, oh no."

Narcissa gazed up at her with concern and confusion. She looked too white for her own good, as if she might faint any second now.

"But didn't you say you lost your job today?" she spoke calmly, thinking she must have forgotten it.

But Hermione kept shaking her head.

"No, not that job. My other job, my night job. Oh Merlin, I'm going to get fired from there as well, and then I have nowhere to go to. I'm out on the streets."

Her face went even paler, and first her hands started to shake, then her whole body, as panic overtook her mind and senses. Her legs too weak to carry, she fell back to the sofa, her mouth open in silent terror.

Now her behaviour began to really worry Narcissa. She clearly needed to do something to help the poor girl, perhaps even call a mediwizard. But first she still tried to calm her down.

"I'm sure it's not that bad, dear."

"But it is," Hermione gulped, taking a deep breath, and indeed calming down a bit. "My landlord raised the rent this afternoon, and if I don't pay him tomorrow morning, I'm asked to move out of my apartment. I asked for an extension, but he refused. Tomorrow morning, or I'm out.

"I don't have that kind of money," she admitted, rocking herself back and forward like a frightened child.

"I don't have any money," she added. "I thought I'd stay a few nights in the Leaky Cauldron, but I spent the last of it on those stupid robes. I don't know why I bought them, I'm not going to need them anyway. Not when I'm going to live and sleep on the streets."

Narcissa Malfoy had never been one to have money troubles, or at least troubles with too little money. Their family faults were huge and full of gold, and they owned more than enough real estate.

But she tried her best to imagine herself into her guest's situation, and wondered what she would do then.

"I'm sure your friends would be happy to help you out."

Hermione stopped the rocking and squirmed a bit in her seat. Yes, that seemed like her only possibility, and still she was reluctant to use it.

"Yes, but I don't want to trouble them. They have their own lives and own problems to worry about. I don't want to make it even harder for them. No, I must manage on my own, I am a big girl, I can manage on my own."

Narcissa couldn't hold her smile back on that, and seeing that Hermione's face fell.

"I," she started, but was cut off.

"It's not what you think, dear," Mrs. Malfoy explained. "I'm not smiling at your misfortune, even though it might have looked like that."

"Why are you smiling then?" she was curious.

"You are too proud, darling, too proud. Too proud to ask for help, even though many would be more than happy to help you. But you are too proud. Just like Draco."

The last statement made Hermione forget all her worries, and an angry redness rose onto her pale cheeks, as she opened her mouth to insist fiercely she was nothing, nothing and in no way anything like Draco Malfoy, but her rant never made it, since her livid impression was enough to drive the already smiling Narcissa into laughter.

She watched indignantly as the cool and graceful Mrs. Malfoy giggled in front of her like a little girl. Not a common sight, she had to admit.

And when she stopped at last, and spoke, Hermione realized she would rather have her laughing at her.

"You two would be perfect together."

Hermione opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, and closed it yet again. She couldn't even manage an angry stutter, as awful as it was. And she couldn't keep silent either lest the other woman think she agreed with her.

"He hates me," she was able to say at last. "And I don't like him either."

But Narcissa Malfoy knew how to be stubborn, especially when it looked beneficial to her and her family. And once she had got one of those ideas she considered brilliant, it was very hard, if not impossible, to change her mind about it.

Hermione was fighting a hopeless fight.

"Oh, but he has changed," Narcissa told her wisely. "He's not the little spoilt kid he was back at school. You should give him a chance."

Hermione practiced some more opening and closing her mouth, although she was already very good at it.

"But... but you saw him... tonight... here..."

"Oh, he was just a bit shocked," Narcissa waved the matter away. "He will come around, don't worry. He simply has to think it over, and then he will see things the right way, just like you needed to take a break and think after the restaurant."

She couldn't argue with that, but Malfoy had seemed anything but confused to her. Well, he had been confused at his mother's kind behaviour towards his long-time enemy, but not about his feelings for that said enemy.

Hermione said as much.

---

"You were right back then, you know," Draco remarked. "I did hate you with all my heart."

"And now?" she asked, her tone quivering.

"Now what?"

"Do you hate me now?"

"You haven't told me what I want to hear about, yet," was his only reply.

---

"Nonsense," Narcissa refused to listen to her. "He's just a bit confused, that's all. And lonely. He has been very lonely lately. You would give him a chance, wouldn't you?"

Hermione was beginning to realize her coming here might have consequences she could have never even imagined before, consequences serious and dangerous.

"He doesn't want me."

"But would you forgive him if he asked? Would you give him a chance?"

"What kind of a chance?" she questioned, already sure she didn't want to find out.

"He has been so lonely lately. I could organize a nice dinner for you two. Would you go out with him?"

With an inhuman effort, Hermione was able to swallow her scream of NO!!! Because that wouldn't have been too polite. Or kind.

"He would never go out with me."

"Leave him to me," Narcissa said quickly. "All you have to do is show up in the right place at the right time. Perhaps not the Diamond Hall, it's a bit too formal. How about La Passione, the little cozy Italian place? That's sounds suitable, doesn't it? Let's say Friday evening at seven o'clock? Is that all right with you?"

Hermione mind went blank again. She had lost her job, she was going to lose her home, she had made friends with one of her greatest enemies, and was making plans about dating the other.

Had the world gone crazy without her noticing that? Yes, that was the only explanation she could think of.

"Great!" Narcissa exclaimed, taking her silence as a sign of agreeing.

Hermione would have almost nodded, but managed to wake from her reverie at the last moment, and started to shake her head instead.

"No, I'm sorry, I can't. I can't go out with your son. I'm sure he is a great person and everything-" Hermione practically choked on her words, "-but he really isn't my type. Not my type at all. I'm sorry."

"Just this one date," Narcissa pleaded. "That's all I'm asking."

The girl continued to shake her head.

"No, I'm sorry. Not my type. No. Can't go out with-"

"I'll pay you."

Hermione stopped mid-word, and simply gaped. It seemed as if even Narcissa was a bit surprised at her own proposal, but now it was out already, she was not going to back off.

"Think about it," she went on to explain while the girl continued her gaping. "You get money to pay for your apartment, and live normally until you find yourself another job. You don't have to bother your friends, and everyone sees you can manage on your own. And all I ask in return is one night, one dinner, nothing else. You don't have to do anything, just go to the restaurant, eat and drink and talk a bit, and then go back home. Just a few hours to bear in his company, that's not too bad, is it? And I'm not asking you to do anything you don't want to do. Just go and eat, and perhaps you see that I'm telling you the truth about him being a different person now."

Hermione still gaped, and Narcissa took it as a good omen. After all, she wasn't yelling at her, or refusing her offer, or storming away from the room.

"Take it as a job if you must. I'm hiring you as an escort for my son, it's all legal and moral, nothing wrong about it. One dinner, and you can preserve your home and get your life back on track. Isn't this an offer too good to turn down?"

Minutes passed by, and they sat in silence, Mrs. Malfoy realizing all she had to do now was to wait.

"One night," Hermione said at last.

"Yes."

"Just dinner."

"Just dinner, nothing more," Narcissa reassured.

"Just a few hours."

"Yes, just a couple of hours."

"And I just have to talk to him?"

"Just talk."

"Oh, all right," Hermione said in a tone that indicated she didn't like it one bit.

Narcissa smiled.

The clock chimed midnight.

---

"And that's the story," Hermione concluded her tale.

Draco didn't say anything for a long time, but just like Narcissa had kept her silence that fateful night before Hermione had accepted the offer, she knew it was now her time to wait.

"There's one more thing you haven't told me," he said at last, his tone a mixture of resolution and something else.

"What's that?" she inquired.

"How much?" he asked.

"How much what?" Hermione was confused.

"How much did she pay you?"

Hermione turned her face away, another teardrop leaving her eye, even though he wasn't looking at her. She didn't want to answer the question because all in all it did not matter how much she had been paid, but that answer would not satisfy him. Still, for some reason she felt that naming the sum would make things worse, which was ridiculous because things really couldn't get much worse any more.

"How much?" he demanded.

"Three thousand Galleons," she sobbed.

The silence that followed was filled with her tiny sounds of crying, sounds that she tried to suppress with all her might, but couldn't. She was staring at his figure again, through the misty curtain of tears, but he didn't even move. Her distress had no impact on him, and she was reminded of better times, times that had ended less that an hour ago, when he would have taken her into his arms, rested his forehead against hers, and whispered words of comfort into her ear. But she didn't deserve it, and never had.

"That little?" he formed his reply at last, and she could tell he was surprised.

"She wanted to give me ten, but I managed to bargain it down," she smiled mirthlessly, thinking back to her expression when being offered ten thousand Galleons for one date with Malfoy. It hadn't been very reassuring.

"Did you really valued yourself that low back then?"

"I was homeless, workless, and knutless, Draco," she gave a bitter laugh. "At that point it was a bit hard to think highly of myself. Besides, it was just one date. Three thousand Galleons for three hours was a lot more than enough."

"Ah," he said, and lapsed into silence again.

"Although," Hermione continued, sweet memories invading her mind, "There were moments when I started to doubt that. The main one being the look on your face when you arrived at the restaurant, and realized I was your date."

---

Sitting in the expensive green dress robes she had bought on the same day she had met and dined with Narcissa for the first time, her hair fixed into something intricate and pretty, Hermione stared at the merrily burning candle on the table in front of her, and fidgeted.

To say that she was nervous as hell would have been a major understatement, after all, this was Friday and it was three minutes to seven. She had arrived early, out of her anxiety mostly, and the wait had not managed to calm her down.

Narcissa had reassured her (over and over again) that everything would go fine, and she had even started to believe her. But then the day had arrived, and the time had arrived, and she made herself pretty (for the date, not for Malfoy), and came here, and suddenly all of Narcissa's calming and reassuring words meant nothing.

Two minutes to seven. Oh Merlin, how slow could time go? In a desperate try to fight her nervousness, she thought instead of the happy things. Like paying three months rent in advance, and buying new curtains, something her apartment had been in desperate need of for a while now. Then, realizing she still had a large sum left, Hermione had done something rather risky and perhaps even stupid – yes, she was prone to act stupid lately. Her beloved bookshop had gone bankrupt, and she had been able to buy it for only a fraction of its actual value. Yes, she had bought it. Now all she had to do was to get it back into business, and this time for good. She wasn't sure how exactly she was going to manage that, although she did have some plans, but she also had a really good feeling about this. She loved the shop with all her heart, and she was determined to make it work.

One minute to seven. Be cool, Hermione, she told herself. Very soon her arch nemeses would step through that door, look at her with eyes filled with contempt and hatred, and also shock because she was 100 percent sure Narcissa had not told him who his date was, and then she would have to smile and play cool. No yelling or insulting – this was a job, after all, and she was going to do it well.

The clock chimed seven, and turning her head towards the entrance, she saw Malfoy standing there, probably inquiring about his table. All she could do was wish they would keep him waiting. But he was a Malfoy, after all, and such behaviour would have cost the restaurant one of their best clients.

Looking away once again, Hermione could hear his footsteps through all the chatter and clatter in the room; or perhaps these were her own heartbeats. But then they stopped, and a shadow fell on the table, and she knew she would have to raise her head now and look her doom in the eye.

Yet she hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor for nothing, and her expression was proud and cool as she raised her eyes to meet his, filled with contempt, hatred, and shock, just like she had predicted. But then the shock vanished, and all that was left was cold hate and anger, and a promise of pain. For a fleeting second she thought he might curse her right then and there, or just grab her neck and squeeze.

No amount of money is enough to bear that look of hatred and disdain was her last thought before she braced herself and opened her mouth.

"I take it your mother didn't tell you who you were going to meet with?" she inquired casually, forcing her tone pleasant.

He shook his head, and took the seat across from her, killing her over and over again with his glare. Unfortunately for him, looks could not kill, and she was still there in front of him, and even though her smile was a bit forced, it was still there.

"Mother made me promise to be nice to you," he spat the words out as if a curse.

"She's clever," Hermione replied.

"You don't seem so surprised to see me here," he commented darkly.

"She is also very persuasive," she said. "Very persuasive. Believe me. One moment I'm drinking tea with her, and the next I have already accepted to go out with my childhood enemy, without any idea of how this came to be."

Draco glared at her for a moment longer, but then his look softened in connection with his mother.

"Yes, she is like that. Sly and scheming."

"And stubborn, too," Hermione gave a small laugh. "I tried to refuse, trust me, I tried to. But once she got the idea that we would 'be perfect together', and here I'm quoting her so don't give me that look, she didn't stop before she managed to make me agree. I'm still not very sure how."

By giving you three thousand Galleons, she solved the mystery in her mind.

"I tried to refuse as well," he admitted reluctantly. "I know to be wary of the girls Mother sets me up with. Although this time she seems to have outdone herself."

"Well, you're not my vision of a perfect date, either," she snapped before she could stop herself. The clock on the wall showed seven past seven. These three hours were going to be the longest in her life.

But he had promised to be nice to her, and he was not going to break that promise. Which meant that except for the murderous glares he graced her with throughout their entire meal, Hermione was actually having good time. At least as long as she didn't look at him, and tried to forget who he was.

They talked mostly about Narcissa, a bit about books, and just a couple of things about their present doings. Hermione told him about her newly bought bookshop, and although she could see how hard it was to him, he managed not to sneer at her for this. Draco in his turn talked about the numerous pieces of real estate their family had all around the world, and his plans with them. When he mentioned he was going to sell their house in the Alps, Hermione could not hold herself back once again.

"No!" she exclaimed. "You can't sell that."

He had raised a brow at her in question, although more curious than angry.

"Well," Hermione blushed and hurried to explain. "Don't you just love the snow, and the mountains, and the view, and the snow, and the everything there? I mean, I'd love to have a house in such a place."

He looked at her then, long and hard, and for the life of her she could not decipher that gaze of his, which lacked its usual malice and hatred.

"If it were a real date, I would ask you to come with me there one day, but we both know it is never going to happen," he said at last, and even though she couldn't explain it, Hermione felt like crying.

But then the moment passed, and she didn't think about it any longer, at least, not until the end of their date.

He accompanied her home. She said it was unnecessary. He said it was the polite thing to do, and he had promised to be polite.

Which meant that half past ten they were standing in front of her house, neither saying a thing, in an uncomfortable silence. Hermione wanted to say good-bye and leave, but she also knew that this would end the date officially, and then he wouldn't have to be nice to her anymore. It would be a lie to tell that she wasn't a bit afraid that he might curse her the moment she turned her back to him, but he had better ways to hurt her. Because he had been so nice to her, and she had had really good time, no matter how hard she tried to deny it.

But in her heart she knew that against her will these hours spent together had made her hope, made her wish for something more, wish for a miracle. And she knew he could crush it all with a mere word.

But there was no point in fighting the inevitable.

"Good night, Malfoy," she said at last, even managing a small smile. "I had a great time."

"So did I, Granger," he replied politely. "Good night to you as well."

But neither of them made a move to leave.

"The date is officially over now," Hermione spoke sadly after a while, aware of what was to come, and preparing herself for it.

But he didn't start yelling at her.

"It is," he said instead, calmly.

She blinked once, twice, shocked at his behaviour.

"You don't have to be polite to me anymore, Malfoy," she reminded him, wanting this all be over and done with, and back in her sweet little apartment, having tea, and reading a good book.

"I know."

"So there's no point in delaying it any longer. Give me all you've got, Malfoy. I know you want to. You have wanted to do it all evening."

Her tone was tired, and wistful, but she didn't really care at the moment. She just wanted it to end.

"You're right," he told her, and the gleam in his eyes gave her shivers. "There is something I've wanted to do all evening."

He stepped closer to her, and she took a deep breath, her hand on her wand. But then he moved faster than she could perceive, and although she managed to draw the wand, she was not given the opportunity to use it.

Instead it clattered to the sidewalk as she slid both of her arms around his neck, and kissed him back just as passionately.

After a few minutes, Hermione picked up her wand, went home, but instead of tea and book, she simply threw herself onto the bed and decided that the world had indeed gone crazy.

---

So absorbed in those happy memories, she almost let his question pass.

"How much in total?" he had asked, and though she heard his words, they didn't make much sense to her.

"What?" she questioned once again.

"How much money did she pay you in total?"

Hermione frowned.

"I told you already. Three thousand Galleons."

"For the first date," he specified. "But how much for everything else?"

"What everything else?" she was very much aware of sounding like an idiot, but it was rather hard to answer to a question one didn't understand.

She had expected him to snap at her for the slow thinking, but he had chosen this moment out of all others to be patient and explain.

"How much did she pay you for our second date? And for the third, and forth, and so on? How much did she pay you for sleeping with me? How much is she paying you now for marrying me?"

Hermione opened her mouth and closed it again, realizing no words were coming out any time soon. Her vision darkened, and then disappeared completely, and she thought she had blacked out, but then a sharp pain in her knees brought her back, and she found herself on the floor, as her legs apparently had decided not to carry her anymore. She couldn't blame them, nor did she attempt to stand, even though she was wrinkling out her delicate wedding-gown like this; but it didn't really matter because there was going to be no wedding.

She tried again to speak, but all that she managed was one desperate sob, followed by another, and another, and another, until she was crying in earnest and unable to stop.

The tears and sobs just kept on coming, and for the life of her she could not stop them. The lack of air made her gasp, and wish that she had indeed blacked out, or hit her head at the fall, and then blacked out.

She knew she was hyperventilating, but there was no one to help her, and she couldn't do anything herself. Every time she almost managed to control her sobs, his words came back to her, and even through she didn't let herself think about their meaning, they were still terrible enough to break her down once again.

Hermione had no idea how much time had passed when she finally managed to calm herself down somewhat; she would have guessed days, but surely someone would have come to look for them if it were so.

A part of her wanted to march right up to him and slap him for ever thinking such a thing of her, another wanted to crawl away into some hole and cry forever; Hermione did neither. Instead she forced her voice to speak the words she wanted to say.

"Nothing. She paid me for nothing else but that first date. I even tried to give it back to her the next day."

---

That was right – she had tried to give the money back. The very next day she had owled Narcissa and made an appointment with her at the Diamond Hall, not too comfortable with the idea of going to the Manor and meeting Draco there. After last night, she had no idea whatsoever how to act around him, and she couldn't tell what it had all meant for him.

Narcissa came at once, excited to learn more about their date, as Draco had refused to tell her anything about it. The moment Hermione sat down to their table, she was poured over with more questions she could even comprehend, less answer.

"What did Malfoy tell you about it?" were her first words, when Narcissa had finally paused.

"Nothing," she frowned. "Came home, went to his room, refused to talk to me. And this morning at the breakfast table ignored all my questions about it."

"Oh," Hermione said, and her face fell.

"Was it that awful?" Narcissa questioned, her tone concerned.

Hermione sighed, and chose not to answer, instead going for the business.

"I called you here today, Mrs. Malfoy," she spoke politely. "To give you back all the money."

"Well, not all," she added after a moment. "Since I've already spent some of it, but everything that is left. And then later, when my shop starts to bring in profit, I will give you the rest."

"My dear, that money is yours," Narcissa smiled at her, recovering from her surprise. "You earned it. And if last night was horrible beyond belief, you only deserve it even more."

"But that's the thing," Hermione admitted miserably. "Last night was not awful. Not in the least. I actually can't remember when I last had such a great time."

Narcissa's eyes sparkled at that, and her smile turned into a grin.

"That's wonderful!" she exclaimed, but Hermione's expression only saddened.

"And that's not the worst thing," she confessed, deciding to get it all out. "The worst thing is... is... that he kissed me. And I kissed him back. And I liked it."

She practically wailed the last sentence and dropped her head on the table, not caring one bit what other people in the restaurant may think of her. Fortunately for her their table was rather secluded, and all those who turned to watch received such a glare from Narcissa that they quickly went back to their own business.

After staring at the despairing girl in front of her for a few moments in calculating silence, she decided to cut through her misery.

"Hermione, dear," she said and waited for her to raise her head before continuing. "Why is this a bad thing?"

"Because," she said and stopped. Millions of reasons were running through her mind – he was her enemy, he hated her, nothing good would ever come out of it, they couldn't be together, her friends hated him, his friends hated her, they were too different, they had no chance. But when she opened her mouth to speak them, they suddenly eluded her, and disappeared as if they had never been there in the first place. And in the end there was only one answer left to her.

"I don't know," she said and realized she was telling the truth. "I don't know."

Narcissa smiled, and Hermione couldn't help but smile back.

"I don't know," she repeated, and no words had sounded quite so liberating or good ever before.

---

"I tried to give it back to her, but she refused," she spoke. "She said I would need it for my bookshop, and she was right. I still tried but she told me to take it as an investment into my business. In the end I agreed, but promised to pay it back in the future. But things changed, and by the time the shop had brought in enough money, we were already sharing an account, and then it sounded ridiculous to take money from an account and put it back to the same one, and then everything happened, and I forgot all about it, and now... here we are."

And now here they were.

Hermione brushed her tears away, and with the help of her memories she was able to stand up again, and stay that way. After a few deep breaths and calming thoughts, she even managed to walk, and that she did. If Mohamed didn't come to the mountain, it was time for the mountain to go to Mohamed.

And even though she wasn't too fond of being compared to a mountain, although the dress was a bit puffy, she was ready to play its part now.

Ignorant of the source of her sudden energy and determination, she didn't try to figure it out, but simply used it while it was still there.

Her future lied in her own hands, and she was not going to give up, not without a fight.

She took a seat by his side at the sofa, and touching her hand gently to his cheek, turned his face towards her.

"Look at me, Draco," she implored when he stubbornly refused to meet her gaze.

He didn't move away from her hand though, and using that, she softly caressed his face, then drew her thumb over his bottom lip, finally making him start and look at her.

She had prepared herself for the coldness in his eyes, for the anger, and hatred, and contempt, and betrayal, but she wasn't prepared for what she saw there.

Pain.

He was hiding his emotions no more, baring herself for her gaze like he had done several times before, but then it had been passion and love that she had witnessed. Now it was a pain so intense it cut through her heart like a sharp knife and for a moment she couldn't breathe.

She could have thawed his coldness, subdued his anger, broken through the hate and contempt, but there was nothing she could do to cure such pain, the one she had caused him herself.

She still made one final try, though.

"I love you, Draco," she whispered, looking him straight in the eyes and willing him to believe her. "I love you with all my heart, and soul, and body. Please believe me when I say that everything between us has been the real thing. Please believe me when I say that I love you because I do. I love you so much, Draco, so much."

He stared at her for a while, and for a moment she thought he would understand, and everything would be alright, but then he opened his mouth, and she knew his words before he managed to speak them.

"I can't, Hermione," he said, and those three words broke her heart, just like she had broken his.

He was gone the next moment, but she never heard the crack of his Apparition.

-----

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