Last Will and Testament

Chapter 4: The Price for Pride

Hermione stared at the sight before her open-mouthed, tears streaming down her cheeks, feeling her heart break. There, before her, was her boyfriend, Jeff Randall. He was half-naked--his shirt was gone (discarded rather sloppily on the floor), but his pants were (thankfully) still buttoned. His...woman...had her legs wrapped around his waist, and she was backed up against the wall, her blouse open, so it didn't look as though his pants would stay that way (buttoned, that is) for long.

Hermione's eyes narrowed,and she forced herself to stop crying. She would not be undignified, not here, not now. Not ever. Wiping her eyes (and performing a rather tricky spell to get rid of the puffiness), she drew herself up to her full height of 5 feet 2 inches, and said coolly, "Why Jeff, I didn't think you had it in you."

It was enough to cause the two rabbits to break apart. Jeff stared at her, open-mouthed and speechless,looking rather like Hermione had only moments before. The thought made her smile sardonically. "Her-Hermione, it's not what you think," Jeff said soothingly, stepping towards her, his arms raised in a 'see, I'm harmless,' way.

Hermione raised a brow, determined to get the upper hand. And if she couldn't hurt him emotionally-he'd proved that he had no heart the moment he so much as touched that woman-she would hurt his dignity and his ego. "Actually, Jeff, it is obviously exactly what I think. And, to tell you the truth," she sighed, looking down at her fingernails as though she hadn't a care in the world.

Then she laughed. "Although, it doesn't really seem as though you deserve the truth, seeing as how you've been lying to me all this time." Her eyes grew cold as she continued. "But you know, you're not the only one playing double." She hesitated, almost deciding to stop there, but the temptation to shove it all in his face was too great.

"I'm getting married," she smiled condescendingly at him. "To Draco Malfoy; you remember him, right? He was well-known to be the sex-god of Hogwarts in my day. Ah, well, I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't. You always were rather thick-headed."

And she turned around and walked out the door, her back as straight as a steel rod, tears already beginning to cloud her eyes.

***

Hermione stood on the edge of the cliff, her eyes closed, the sea wind buffeting her loose hair. It was peaceful here, something that she now lacked internally. After all, who would be peaceful if their boyfriend of two years cheated on them? Her cheeks had salty dried tears on them, but there were no more leaking out. She felt drained. Empty.

She had found this place while on vacation the summer after graduation. She'd come here after she'd broken up with Ron--the second time...

"Sweetheart, you know I love you..." Ron trailed off.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. This sounded a lot like the prelude to a break-up. "What?" she asked.

"Well, I've fallen in love with someone else."

She almost laughed, remembering that. It sounded like a soap opera. But she couldn't laugh. It had hurt, when he'd said that. "I guess I just don't have the best luck with men..." she whispered, the soft words carrying across the ocean.

And she really didn't. Maybe it wasn't even her choices. Maybe it was her. The only person that hadn't broken up with her because of 'someone else' was Viktor. And he'd broken up with her because of age.

Hermione sighed. It was always her fault. And the break-ups had always been instigated by the men. Maybe it was her fault... Maybe she held on long after there was anything left. But she'd really thought that she and Jeff were going well together. She'd dated him longer than she'd dated anyone else, and she'd really loved him.

And then she'd gone and opened her big mouth.

"I'm getting married ... to Draco Malfoy."

They had to be the six stupidest words in the English language. She didn't have to marry him--after all, it wasn't as if she'd signed something. But it was a matter of pride. Jeff had already stripped her of too much of it for her to just walk away. Maybe it was a good thing. After all, she was practically out of money, her roommate was moving away, and she didn't have anywhere else to go.

Her parents had died in one of the Death Eater attacks during the Dark War. Parents of Muggleborns had been specifically targeted, and none of the spies had found out in time for the Order to get the Grangers out. She sniffled. It had been the fall after her graduation from Hogwarts. She was only grateful that she and her parents had had the one last vacation, and that she'd had this place.

She'd come here, after their death. It was horrible, how impersonal the letter had been, how cold and unfeeling...

Dear Ms. Hermione Lynne Granger,

We regret to inform you that your parents died after an attack by Death Eaters on their house in Muggle England. Our thoughts will be with you.

- Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic

Hermione snorted derisively. She couldn't believe the old coot was still in office. But he probably would be, so long as he was alive. Lucky for him, he'd gotten his head out of his arse long enough to take Dumbledore's advice--still, it had almost been too late. Very lucky indeed, as it was probably only with the help of the Dementors and the giants that the Light had won the war. Well, that and the amazing number of spies. Severus Snape, Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy...

She shook her head. She still could not believe that Draco Malfoy had become a spy. No one knew, apparently, except perhaps Dumbledore. Hermione laughed. Then again, it seemed the elder wizard knew everything else, so why would he not know that? Ah, well. The point was, Malfoy had spied for them. So at least she knew she wasn't getting hitched to a Death Eater. Well, a real one.

Not that she was saying that she was going to marry him. She was only considering it. She was also considering that perhaps all the forces of the universe, planets, gods, goddesses, and people alike, were aligned against her. It would certainly help everything make sense. Like the fact that everything in her life seemed to be pointing to marrying Malfoy.

She couldn't stay with Ginny--the girl still lived with her parents after all!--and she couldn't stay with the Weasleys. She didn't want to impose herself on them. Ron was out of the question, Harry and Pansy were on their honeymoon, and she really didn't have any other friends. She'd drifted apart from all the ones she'd had before Hogwarts, and she'd spent too much time buried in her books to make any friends other than Harry, Ron and Ginny.

She had nowhere to go. No money. He was her only hope.

Hermione cringed. What a wonderful thought.

***

"Elizabeth!" Hermione called, bending over to check under her twin bed for any more clothes she might have missed.

"Yes?" Elizabeth appeared in the doorway, her hair swept up haphazardly and pinned to the back of her head. The hairdo looked good on her, that was for sure.

"I'm going to Malfoy's office and I need help," Hermione sighed, "I don't know what to wear."

"Ah," Elizabeth grinned, "this should be fun. I cannot wait to play with your hair! Finally," she sighed, a happy little grin on her face. "Your hair is a hairdresser's dream," Elizabeth gushed, walking over to Hermione, her face aglow. "I wish you would have let me work on it sooner. I mean, it's a good texture, easy to manipulate, but you always put it in that bun..." she shivered. "It's almost scary!"

Hermione sighed, fighting to keep a small smile off her face. Elizabeth could be so fun sometimes. It was probably a good thing, of course, especially since they were roommates.

Well, they wouldn't be for long, would they? Either way, one of them would be moving soon. Hermione sighed as she let Elizabeth force her into the chair and begin to work on her hair. She had no idea why they weren't finding her something to wear first.

Hmm. She could use the time to think about her future husband... Or at least he would be if all went the way it should. Draco Malfoy. Hermione Malfoy. Should she change her name? She wasn't certain. Hermione Malfoy didn't sound all that bad... Maybe it was the whole Greek goddess thing. Goddesses and Malfoy just seemed to fit together for some reason. A strange reason, but a reason nonetheless. Anything that made this whole situation seem sane would be a good thing.

"All right," Elizabeth interrupted her thoughts, "I think I've narrowed down what I'm going to do to your hair, so now we need to get to work on your clothes..." She eyed Hermione's current robe disdainfully. "This won't do at all," she said sadly, and turned to Hermione's closet. The fashion designer began flipping through her clothes, mumbling about sizes and cuts and 'doesn't she have anything more seductive?'

Hermione sighed, blushing slightly. She didn't have anything seductive because... well, because she didn't need to be seductive, especially in her position as the top defender and prosecutor for Mugglebornsand the like. At least in her opinion. And her opinion was really all that mattered, wasn't it?

Then again... Jeff's had mattered for a long time, hadn't it? Hermione felt a pang in the area near her heart. She had loved him. A lot. Why had he done that to her? Why had he cheated on her? Why? Did he perhaps prefer women more like Elizabeth, ones who knew fashion and hairstyles and all those things she had never bothered to learn?

Why had he cheated on her? Had she not been pretty enough? Did she not dress correctly? Was it her job? Was it her hair? Was it...

Hermione sighed. And here she was, still caring. Jeff's opinion apparently still mattered if she was spending so much time obsessing over why it was that he had chosen to cheat on her.

So far as she knew, no one had cheated on her.

Wait... there had been Ron. But he'd at least come clean. And he'd never actually said he was cheating on her, just that he'd fallen in love with someone else. "Stupid git," Hermione mumbled under her breath. She couldn't believe he could have been so inconsiderate. She had been in love with him, and he went and broke the news that he was in love as well--only with someone else!

"What was that?" Elizabeth asked, halfway in the closet, her voice slightly muffled.

"Nothing," Hermione said, blushing slightly. How embarrassing to have your roommate hear your inarticulate mumbling!

"Aha!" Elizabeth yelled, sounding triumphant. She came out from the closet, her hair still immaculate, a dark green robe in her hand. "I knew you had to have something. Where did you get this from, anyway?" she asked, setting it on the bed.

"It was for Ginny's wedding," Hermione said, almost awed. She hadn't seen the robe since... Well, probably since she'd moved. "She helped me pick it out."

"Ah, that makes sense," Elizabeth said, smiling.

"What?" Hermione asked indignantly. "Are you suggesting that I lack fashion sense?"

"I'm not suggesting it," Elizabeth's grin widened, "I'm telling you: you lack fashion sense."

Hermione sighed. "I know. I really don't have any, do I?"

"Nope, not one bit." Elizabeth picked up the robe again. "Now let's get to work, and hope this thing still fits you."

An hour later, Hermione looked at her reflection in the mirror. She gave herself a small smile; she looked good. Her hair was actually in a bun, but it didn't look the way it normally did. It actually looked... Well, good--sexy almost. And her robe was awesome. Elizabeth obviously knew her stuff. Not that she'd doubted it before... She just hadn't seen the end product.

Elizabeth had modified the robe slightly, so that it clung more tightly to her curves--though she hadn't really needed to, considering it had been five years since she'd worn it and had gained weight since then. Elizabeth had also used a charm on her hair so that it was slightly less curly; Hermione had stopped her before she completely decimated the bushy curls. She might not think her hair the best, but it was just as much a part of her as anything else, and she wasn't going to change it just because fashion dictated she should.

Hermione smiled. She actually liked her reflection for once. Usually she didn't. Usually she just lived with it. Now she was proud of it. That was probably good, considering that she had to be pretty confident since she was going to transact a business deal. She could only hope that it worked.

***

Draco Malfoy twirled his quill between his fingers as he sat at his desk at the Ministry of Magic. He'd gotten a job here easily, what with all of his connections, and it didn't hurt that he actually liked his job. It made it harder for his enemies to say that he only had the job because he was a Malfoy.

But the truth was that being a Malfoy was nowhere near as good a thing to be as it had been before the Dark War. Thanks to his father...

Draco sneered disgustedly. Thanks to his father, the Malfoy name was laughed at as much as it was revered and feared. He had to work twice as hard as before to get half the results. Well, perhaps he was exaggerating; at least a tiny bit. His situation wasn't as hopeless, as, say, Granger's.

Yes, he knew about her job. She had started her own firm, specializing in defending the rights of Muggleborns, lycanthropes, giants, vampires, and all the other poor sods who were being ripped of by the Ministry. She had for the past four years since she had dropped out of Auror training and attended the Wizarding equivalent to law school, graduating in half the time it usually took. Although he didn't know for sure, he was guessing that she worked twice as hard as anyone else in that field. It was just in her nature. It had started at Hogwarts, so he'd be very surprised if it had changed.

He didn't like to think that he was a selfish person, but he knew better. It had been bred into him, perhaps even genetically. It hadn't helped that his father was Lucius Malfoy. The man didn't know the meaning of the word 'equal.'

Draco knew that many people wondered why he had chosen the Light over the Dark. But he knew.

Narcissa's death had been shrouded with mystery. It had happened about a year before the final battle, during the Christmas holidays of his seventh year. He hadn't been home at the time. She had died of an apparent flying accident. Everyone knew better of course, but none could prove it.

Narcissa hated flying. She always had. Even after growing up in a Magical household, she didn't like it.

Draco had begun to doubt his mother's loyalty towards his father late in his sixth year. He loved his mother--she was probably the only person he had ever truly loved, in fact. So when she had died with Lucius as the only suspect--at least in Draco's mind--he had switched sides faster than you could say 'Quidditch.'

The young wizard absentmindedly rubbed his left forearm. It had hurt, when he'd gotten it after he'd graduated in seventh year. The only consolation was that he was doing it for his mother, to get Lucius back for killing her. Severus had become a close friend and confidant of his during the hard times, as had Pansy. He'd never have thought Pansy would have had such a brain on her.

Cordelia Parkinson, Pansy's mother, was a lot like Lucius. She was cold, unfeeling, and power-hungry. She didn't care how many people she had to step on to get where she was going, and her spouse was no more than a decoration and a sperm donor. Well, obviously Narcissa hadn't been a sperm donor, but--

Draco shook his head, smiling wryly. His thoughts were always amusing.

There was a knock on the door. "Mr. Malfoy?" It was his secretary.

"Yes, Bruce?" he asked, sitting up and setting his quill down on the desk. Bruce Sprightonopened the door to let himself in.

"Sir, there's someone here to see you."

Draco glanced at the clock. Gods, it was almost eleven! It was almost lunch-time and he'd barely done any work. "Who is it?" he asked anxiously, afraid it would be his supervisor. He needed the report on Iraq done by two that afternoon. Draco had always made it a point to finish all of his work early, so it wouldn't be surprising if Mr. Everett expected the report already.

The problem was,Draco hadn't done it. He'd been so preoccupied by the will that he'd gotten behind on his work.

"I'm not certain, sir, she wouldn't give a name."

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. At least it wasn't Mr. Everett. "Send her in."

Bruce nodded and left, closing the door softly behind him.

Draco wondered who it could be. He'd broken up with his last girlfriend--Cathleen, was it?--at least two months earlier, so it couldn't be that. And he wasn't that friendly with any of the women in the Ministry...

"Malfoy," someone said.

Draco's head whipped up, and he stared in shock at Hermione Granger, standing in front of him in a tight-fitting dark green robe. Her hair was up in a bun, a few stray wisps floating around her face. She'd never looked better.

Granger's lips curved up in the semblance of a smile. "Malfoy," she said, "I've come here to tell you that I've changed my mind."

Draco's eyebrows rose in both question and shock.

"I will marry you."