Chapter Text
Workers scurried around the manor. Extravagant arrangement of flowers and enchanted candles decorating the corridor that led up to the ballroom. Pansy at the head of the chaos with Narcissa, trying to complete months’ worth of preparation in a matter of days. The only time Hermione caught a glimpse of Draco was when he’d approach Pansy, unable to stay away.
He hardly left Pansy’s side. The only time she caught him alone, he had pushed past her like she was invisible. After that, she returned to the kitchen’s, hating herself for being so stupid.
Ring, ring, ring.
Hermione growled, throwing her knife on the table. She hadn’t slept in the two days since Draco declared his engagement, and her exhaustion had her on edge.
Hermione arrived at the drawing room, Gertrude quickly gesturing for her to start moving boxes. Crabbe and Goyle stumbled into the room, clearly sloshed as they rummaged through the boxes. Hermione continued working, ignoring them the best they could until the boys snickered and ran back out of the room.
Pansy’s clicking footsteps approached, and Hermione wished she was anywhere else.
“You have to see it, Daphne. Lucius only just got it from the vaults this morning,” Pansy boasted, her friends in tow. “I never thought I’d be one to wear a diadem, but Draco insists. He wants everyone to see how valuable I am.”
“Perhaps it’s cursed,” Astoria muttered to her sister, quietly so Pansy would not hear.
Pansy snorted, displeased. “Where is it?! It was just here…”
Poor princess pug-face lost her crown.
“You!” Pansy shouted, and Hermione startled when she realized how close she had gotten. “You’ve stolen it!”
Hermione’s jaw dropped and she shook her head. Her mind was slower than usual but working enough to know she couldn’t accuse Crabbe and Goyle without there being repercussions.
Pansy kept shouting obscenities and accusations at her. The Greengrass sisters looked equally displeased.
“What is the meaning of this?” Lucius boomed as he entered the drawing room.
“The mudblood has stolen my diadem!” Pansy wailed.
Narcissa raised a brow. “Your?”
“Pansy, my love. Are you hurt?” Draco entered worried, running up to her side and cupping Pansy’s face in his hands. Delicately, like she was the most precious thing on the earth and Hermione had to look away.
“See! Look how guilty she is,” Pansy snarled. “I warned you Mrs. Malfoy. Of having creatures like that roam our home. I won’t allow it now that I am to live here. Right Malfoy?”
Narcissa’s impassive façade slipped only a fraction. “Gertrude, take the girl away from here immediately. I’ll alert the Ministry of her transgressions and they can deal with her.”
Hermione’s fists clenched, black creeping into her vision. The crime was punishable by death, like so many others that had been enacted against muggleborns. Everything around her started to move faster. Gertrude stepped towards her, and Hermione took a reflexive step back.
“Stop!”
Draco’s voice shocked Hermione as much as it surprised himself. She met his eyes for the first time in days. They were strikingly gray like always, but for a moment they almost looked desperate.
“I…” Draco looked away from Hermione to Pansy, and his eyes went large and glossy. Like her face was the source to all his hopes and dreams. He reached up to touch her again, looking entranced until he blinked firmly and looked back towards Hermione. Just for a moment, the stars were gone, and she could see the unmistakable trace of panic.
“She’s a thief!” Pansy hissed.
“I—I moved the diadem earlier and forgot where I put it. I apologize, my dear Pansy,” Draco lied quickly before clearing his throat. “My mind escapes me lately and I cannot remember…”
Narcissa perked up. “Shall we fetch a healer?”
“NO!” Pansy yelled, her turn to sound panicked. She recovered quickly, brushing the material of Draco’s robes and causing him to smile dumbly at her.
Draco may be a lot of things, but he was not dumb.
Pansy’s voice slightly shook as she spoke. “It’s fine. No healer needed. There are plenty more jewels to pick from the vaults. Shall we go select one now?”
Draco smiled largely down at her. “Whatever makes you happy.”
They exited the room. Hermione could still feel the panic. Hers, and the small glimpse that escaped from Draco’s eyes.
The way he looked at Pansy was different than any way he had ever looked at Hermione: when he would keep her company during the days, or when he showed up at her room in the middle of the night. The morning that he touched her, he had looked at her with longing and adoration. None of it compared to the way he just looked at Pansy. His eyes on her were pure, unadulterated infatuation. Obsession.
Hermione froze, looking back at the door where Draco and Pansy had exited. She had read about those effects.
Hermione used her shortcut from her room to the potions lab to steal all the ingredients she needed, the potions booked propped open on her small table as she brewed the amortentia antidote. It would be easier to just brew it in the lab, but she couldn’t risk getting caught and being stopped. She had never brewed such a complicated potion, and her only stroke of luck was that it did not require a wand.
How she would get Draco to drink it would be another challenge.
Her bracelet kept summoning her away, but she returned to her room often to ensure the potion progressed. Everyone was distracted enough with the wedding not to notice, and Draco only had eyes for Pansy. At least most of the time. There were more and more flickers of awareness when he happened to look at her, but it only lasted for a moment.
Hermione looked at the clock. It was only three hours until the ceremony was set to begin. She filled a small vial with the antidote and took off to find Draco. It took all of her self-control and not to run down the halls. Each corridor was decorated more extravagantly than the next, and Hermione felt the rows of tulle start to smother her. The wedding was nothing more than a trap. One that would hold Draco forever. How everyone was eager to celebrate Draco’s entrapment made her hate them even more.
The house seemed empty. Few servants continued with their preparations, but all the guests were gone. Hermione barged into one of the studies, finding Lucius behind his desk.
“Mr. Malfoy,” Hermione muttered, lowering her head, so her hair curtained her face.
“Hermione,” said Lucius, skeptically. “Is there a problem?”
Hermione looked up. She had Lucius’ favor enough that he offered her the position, but she wasn’t sure how far she could push her luck.
Hermione attempted to level her voice. “Is Master Draco around? There are a few more preparations that require his attention.”
Lucius sighed, shaking his head as he looked back down to the papers he’d been studying. “I’m afraid whatever is left must now be considered lost. Everyone is already at the Parkinson Estate for the ceremony.”
“What?!” Hermione shrieked before quieting herself. “I thought they were getting married here?”
“The reception will be here. But Pansy’s father insisted the ceremony be held at their estate,” Lucius spat out the words. “I’d hoped Draco would see reason, but the boy's mind is set.”
Lucius folded up the parchment and put it in his robes pocket. He reached into his desk and pulled out a bag, tied at the top with string.
“For your severance,” Lucius said flatly, holding the bag to Hermione. “Pack up immediately. I will take you to Diagon Alley at the end of the hour.”
Hermione’s eyes started to water. “My what?”
“I will give you my highest recommendations. But Ms. Parkinson has made it clear she does not wish to have your services continued,” Lucius took another step forward, holding out the bag.
Sickness was making its way up her throat, and she swallowed thickly to keep it down.
“Must I leave so soon?” Hermione croaked. She hated how desperate her voice sounded.
“I do not wish to give her an opportunity to treat you cruelly,” Lucius said, his tone warning and serious.
Hermione nodded and reluctantly accepted the bag before running back to her room.
Between her running and the last of her hope dissipating, she couldn’t catch her breath. The bag was filled with galleons, at least a thousand, and Hermione tossed it into her trunk before shoving her clothes inside. The cauldron and ingredients still littered her table and Hermione worked frantically to put back the books and supplies she had collected. Without Draco to speak up for her, if anyone found out she had used them, they would come after her.
The antidote filled vials were all that was left on the table after only a handful of minutes. She should throw them out. Rid the room of any evidence of her forbidden practice of magic. It was too late anyways. Even if Draco drank the antidote the moment he got home, he would already be married, his soul tied to Pansy’s for eternity.
A slam of the door startled her, and Hermione spun around with a gasp. She could hardly believing her eyes.
Draco stood before her. His eyes revealed just how at war he was with himself. He blinked rapidly, like he didn't trust his eyes to stay closed for too long. Draco groaned, turning to walk out the door before jerking himself to stop and spinning around again.
“Where’s Pansy?” said Hermione.
A light went off in Draco’s eyes. “Pansy! My Pansy! I must go to her I—”
Draco cut himself off and punched the stone wall with a growl. He hissed under his breath, and Hermione willed the true side of him to win. When brewed appropriately, amortentia leads to complete devotion and admiration. The fact that Draco was able to will himself through it made Hermione admire him even more.
“Wait! Wait…” Hermione said as Draco reached for the door again. “Your hand is hurt.”
“She’s waiting for me. I must go!” Draco declared, but he didn’t move.
Hermione steeled herself. “Surely you don’t want to go to your wedding injured.”
Draco rested his back against the door as Hermione slowly approached him. Another slip of consciousnesses appeared, and Hermione was sure he could see her heart thumping with excitement in her chest.
Hermione reached for one of the vials on the table, stopping a few feet in front of Draco and reaching it out to him. He looked at her with such distress.
“There’s something wrong with me… You’ve healed me. You can help me.” Hermione hated to hear the fear in his voice.
“Take this,” Hermione said, handing it over.
“Will this fix it? Will this fix me? I’m supposed to make her happy,” Draco asked desperately.
His eyes bore into her. Latching on like she was the only thing stopping him from being dragged away.
She hated tricking him, but she needed him to drink the antidote. Even as she started to doubt herself. “This will make Pansy very happy if you drink it. It will let you be together forever.”
Draco sucked air through his nose, taking a step back and shaking his head. All her doubts were gone at the fear and disgust that escaped for just a moment.
“This will make you better,” she whispered, trying a different approach.
Hermione took a step closer, and Draco’s lips parted as he focused more on her. He reached for the vial and carefully took it into is hand.
The fog kept clearing, and Hermione could feel him start to wake as soon as he took his first inhale of the vapors.
“How much do I have to take?” Draco asked hesitantly.
There must have been a part of him that was aware that a potion was what got him in this situation to begin with. Hermione waited, not wanting to rush him.
“Just a touch,” she said, gently.
Draco drank the antidote in one gulp and Hermione watched his throat bob. When his head leveled again his eyes were closed. Hermione contemplated taking a step back, increasing the inch or two currently between them.
The next moment his eyes were open and Hermione shivered. He looked into her with more clarity and intensity than he had in days. When he reached up and cradled her face in his hands, she let out a breath and fisted the front of his robes.
She kept staring into his eyes, just to be sure. How anyone else didn’t notice that the bright, storming, gray had been missing for the past week was absurd. He held onto her like his lifeline, brushing his thumb along her jaw and tilting her head back. Hermione closed her eyes, certain that no touch had ever felt as sweet until Draco pressed his lips against hers.