Perished Dreams

Perished Dreams - Chapter Eight

The Silenced Screams

Chapter Eight: The Silenced Screams

Draco was the first person to regain his composure. Although his complexion was paler than usual, he said calmly, "Hermione, may I introduce you to my father, Lucius Malfoy. Father," he bowed stiffly, "Mother, this is my fiancée, Miss Hermione Granger."

The tense silence that followed Draco's statement was broken by the soft rustle of silk. Lucius, whose countenance had darkened dangerously, turned around just in time to catch his unconscious wife in his arms. As he in concern watched her exquisite features, for the moment completely devoid of colour, her eyelids began to quiver, and she slowly opened her eyes. Her eyelashes a striking contrast to the paper white skin, she smiled in a vain attempt of reassurance to the worried expressions of her husband, her son, and his... fiancée. Fighting another wave of dizziness she said in a near whisper, "I passed out? How very silly of me. It's just...I was so happy." Her pupils were slightly dilated as she fearfully considered her husband, and the delicate hand that rested in his trembled.

Somewhat surprised over this lack of self-restraint from a woman whom experience had taught him kept any indulgence to emotional outbursts under the strictest control, at least in his presence, Lucius examined the couple in front of him more closely. And froze. His gaze wandered over their garments, or lack of such, lingered in silent shock on the purple bruise on Hermione's cheek, and took in the faint red stripes of her wrists. In his mind's eye he saw another girl, younger than this one, covered in bluish marks and streaks of blood. "Please don't hurt me anymore. I'll do whatever you say, just please don't hurt me anymore."

Closing his eyes, Lucius tried to force away the image, the memory of that pleading voice, begging in hopelessness for a mercy she knew she would not be granted, wondering if it would ever stop haunting him.

As Mr. Malfoy seemingly turned his attention away from his ashen-faced wife to the young couple in front of him, Hermione noticed that he made a genuine effort to smile congenially. It looked painful.

"So, er, Hemmie, I shan't say with absolute certainty," Lucius frowned," but I do not believe I have heard mentioned any Wizarding family named 'Granger' before."

Hermione gaped dumbfounded at him. Narcissa lost some of her deathly pallor. Draco smirked, and then innocently explained, "That's because it isn't a Wizarding name, Father."

"Oh." The fake cordiality had nearly vanished from Lucius voice as he sneeringly regarded his daughter-in-law-to-be as if she were something deeply unpleasant. "A half-blood, then." Without any obvious reason he absentmindedly touched his left forearm. "Well, there isn't that much that differ half-bloods from pure-bloods, is there, Hermie?"

"No, there isn't, sir," she replied between gritted teeth, "but I am not a half-blood, and my name is Hermione."

"Oh, so your paternal grandmother was a witch, too?" Lucius asked, a note of hope in his tone. Since his attention was focused on a blanching Narcissa, he completely disregarded Hermione's reference to her name, and in another attempt of joviality added, "And you may address me as 'Father,' Hemmo."

Only mere politeness, the fact that the man was...evil, and Draco's threatening grasp kept Hermione from saying that she would no more call Mr. Malfoy Father than Voldemort Daddy.

Narcissa, who fortunately was a very perceptive person, found that this would be an excellent time to change the subject. Perhaps not so thoroughly thought through, she said slightly inquiringly, "We heard this awful sound. That was what brought us here," she added, wanting to explain. "Someone shrieked 'Ooooooooooooowww.'"

"Really loud and screeching," supplemented Lucius, relieved that Narcissa apparently had not comprehended the situation.

Draco looked daggers at them. Hermione coughed in a way that sounded oddly as sniggering. "No one screamed, Mother."

"Yes, they did," Narcissa maintained stubbornly.

As she peered at her husband for support, he nodded in reluctant agreement. He did not wish for Narcissa to reflect closer upon this matter.

"It was as if someone were in the outmost pain," Narcissa continued, shuddering, "and it was ear-splitting. I mean we could hear it even in my room, and that's far, far away from here." Stopping for a moment to glance worriedly at Hermione, who appeared to suffer from a bad case of bronchitis, she then resumed, "And it was piercing, as if some little fluffy animal..."

"Yes, Mother," Draco interrupted, his jaws clenched as he glared murderously at Hermione, who now desperately gasped for air after having done a not-so-wholeheartedly attempt of choking her snickering.

Lucius viewed his son reprimandingly, not abiding with any disrespectful behaviour towards Narcissa. However, before another word could be uttered, Draco suddenly frowned. For the first time he became aware of the peculiar condition his parents' attires were in. In the tension of whether or not he would be celebrating his next birthday at the bottom of the Irish Sea, he hadn't detected that his father was dressed in a towel, and his mother..."Mother!" he spluttered horrified as Narcissa blushingly crossed her arms over the chest of her low-cut nightgown, "Why don't the two of you have more clothes on?"

Even Narcissa looked at him.

"Oh." And then, "Ew!"

"Well," Lucius said, while unknowingly replicating Hermione's movement from earlier that evening as he discreetly and very hurriedly stepped behind the centre of hers and Draco little game of tag earlier, the tablecloth concealing him from a little above the waist and down. "It's late, and it's about time we all go to be- er, sleep." His cheekbones turned the same shade of light crimson that Draco's did whenever he was embarrassed. "Draco," he stared firmly at his son, "I want to see you in my office in 15 minutes precisely." Which was as much time he estimated that it would take to change out of this damn towel. "We have some issues we need to discuss." Draco couldn't help feel a hint of admiration that his father could give even such a simple sentence the timbre of menace. "Narcissa, you may retreat to our rooms, I'll come to you afterwards."

"Ew!"

"To talk," Lucius specified with dignity, an even more distinct hue of scarlet to his skin. Without further comment, except for a "Sleep well, Herma," Lucius exited the room, being followed closely by Narcissa who gave her son a slightly helpless glance. As she turned her head to wish them goodnight, her silver hair brushed over her shoulder, and for a second one could glimpse thin white streaks on her back, as if from wounds so deep that not even magic had been able to entirely remove them.

The moment the door closed behind them Hermione punched Draco hard in the stomach.

"Ouch!" He buckled over. Straightening up again, he said in a tone of great concern. "You know, I'm starting to worry about becoming one of those domestic violence cases. Not to mention heavily traumatised," he added, scowling at the doorway.

Hermione grinned. "Having sex is a perfectly natural part of life, Malfoy. It is just normal that your mother and father..."

"Ew!" Draco's handsome features contorted in disgust. "They're my parents! They're not supposed to have had sex! Ever!"

Unable to stop herself from giggling, Hermione replied, "Then how would you explain that you're here, Malfoy?"

Draco looked stern. "A charm."

"A charm?"

He shrugged. "That's what my mother told me."

"Honestly." Hermione shook her head before she made to punch him again. This time, although only barely, he managed to move in time.

"What's your problem, Granger?" He stared annoyed at her while lightly massaging his belly. It still hurt. Apparently she was a lot stronger than her slender facade gave the appearance of.

Hermione put her hands on her hips and glowered at him. He wanted to kiss her. "That's for believing that your cheap attempt to divert me would make me forget, you..."

"Make you forget what?" Draco cut her short, partially because he was honestly confused, partially because he did not have any particular desire to further explore Hermione's vocabulary where offensive terms regarding him were concerned. From now on he would have to watch her reading. Or perhaps not, he thought, observing her belligerent expression. God only knew what she would do then, hit him in the head with a saucepan?

Even more infuriated by the sight of the faint smirk playing at his lips, Hermione snapped, "That the reason Mr. Malfoy wouldn't 'cause any difficulties' was that he is horrid when it comes to names! 'Leave handling him up to me' indeed!"

The way she glared at him reminded him eerily about Professor McGonagall. And he found it disturbing that he still wanted to kiss her. "What did you presume I was going to do? Give him an ultimatum? Either he let me be wed to you or I renounce the Malfoy name?"

Hermione was as reluctant to admit that that in fact was what she had thought, as she was to acknowledge the sting of pain she felt by the awareness that he was not willing to risk that for her. Fool, she scolded herself, it's not as if he is in love with you. You ought to be grateful he didn't just give you to Nott. Grateful? Towards Malfoy? Dear God, now she was officially going insane.

With the uncanny ability he seemed to have in interpreting her emotions, his eyes softened and he stroked her cheek affectionately. "Of course, I would have."

Hermione looked away. He was lying, naturally, but that didn't remove the odd warmth that spread through her body as if she had stepped out in the sun after a long time in the shadows.

Draco's lips curled into a dry smile. "The unfortunate part then being that if my father ever finds out I that I am planning to marry a Muggleborn, it is more likely that Ron Weasley would end up on some kind of most eligible list than that I'll come from it alive.'"

Restraining herself from submitting to the urge of slapping him again, Hermione said between gritted teeth, "What if someone told him that I am a Muggleborn?"

He considered her with amusement. "Who exactly do you do think would dare broach the subject of his daughter-in-laws descent to Lucius Malfoy?"

Tilting her head slightly to the right Hermione answered shrewdly, "I might."

He regarded her impassively. "If you chose to do so, there wouldn't be that much I could about it, now would there?"

Her shoulders sank. The mere thought of those intense, grey eyes lifeless and empty... She shuddered. Slightly queasy and ashamed that he obviously was aware of that she wasn't capable of causing him such a fate, she said wearily, remembering Nott, "I guess that's not a way to avoid becoming your 'pet,' then."

Draco had been about to continue with that the revelation however would most likely take her life, too, and certainly destroy any chance of Weasley ever being pardoned. Instead he remained absolutely silent, his indifferent expression not betraying any hint of the strange, tender feeling that seemed to come from some place deeper inside of him than he had known existed. As he was about to comment on what position she would attain in his life, Hermione went frighteningly white. "Pet," she whispered, "Crookshanks! Oh my God! He's inside of the apartment! With no food and no water! He's going to die! All because I was so stupid and went out to buy The Lion and the Maiden."

"The Lion and the what?"

Hermione looked up, a flush to her cheeks that at least in Draco's opinion was much more enticing than the unnerving paleness. "Never mind, Malfoy. It's...a potion book, dealing with different uses of the blood of lions and maidens."

"Haven't I heard that title before? In the Witch Weekly? 'Riana is as pure and chaste as the wild flowers that blossom around her. One day the charismatic Lord Russell walks into her life and turns her existence into an inferno of hatred, love and passion'?" He smirked.

In that moment Hermione abruptly altered her conviction about what kind of fate she would have liked to see bestowed on Malfoy. The only problem was that she would prefer to do the killing part herself. Then she narrowed her eyes. "Why do you read the Witch Weekly, anyway?"

That wiped the leer off his face as efficiently as if she had hit him. Of course, that would have been immensely more satisfying. "Because, er..." So he enjoyed being on the 'Cute and Evil' list. So what? 'Who's Crookshanks?"

As Hermione immediately became serious again, Draco congratulated himself with successfully managing to distract her. "Crookshanks is my cat. And he is locked inside of my flat, without any nourishment..." A tear glittered in her long lashes. "And it's my fault!"

Draco viewed her uncertainly. He had never had a pet himself, unless you counted his eagle owl, and if something had happened to that, surely he wouldn't have been this upset... Feeling a vague throbbing oddly similar to the one her blow had given him, he said hastily, "I'll fetch him for you."

Her lip stopped quivering. "Now?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. In the morning we're going to rid an area, Little Whinging or something, of Muggles."

"Harry's uncle, aunt and cousin live there."

"And?"

She shrugged. "No reason."

"But poor Crookshanks! He'll be all alone! He's not used to that, he'll believe that I have abandoned him! " Her chocolaty eyes pleaded him. Draco sighed. All he could do now was to capitulate with dignity. "Alright, I'll leave tonight, but..." he strived to find something it would be reasonable to demand of her as a price, "then you have to promise me not to cause any problems."

She agreed amicably, leaving him with the feeling that he wasn't handling this whole unscrupulous, malevolent, mercilessly-take-advantage-of-every-opportunity Death Eater thing very well. Perhaps he should have become a gardener instead.

Throwing a glance at his wristwatch, Draco found that it was time to go. Pulling Hermione close, he gave her a deep, lingering kiss. She surprised both herself and him by not trying to resist. It was for Crookshanks, she told herself with conviction. If she were to annoy Draco now perhaps he wouldn't help her cat... With this selfless, martyrian goal in mind, she sacrificed herself to his passionate embrace, her hands almost unconsciously slipping around his neck. As he reluctantly lifted his head, he let his index finger trace her lips. "Shall I come to see you before I leave?"

She nodded before she could stop herself, then lifted her chin haughtily. "Yes, I need to tell you what to do so that you don't scare him."

He narrowed his eyes menacingly, but then suddenly frowned. "Perhaps that wouldn't be such a bad idea. Of some reason animals don't seem to like to me."

"It must be the great aura. That whole cloud of friendliness that surrounds you tends to make the little creatures insecure. They're not used to such pure goodness."

"You are too impertinent for your own good, Granger. Be careful, otherwise I might change my mind about those beatings." He grabbed her and kissed her rather roughly in a possessive manner. But his grey eyes glittered and the hands that held her were gentle.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco sighed as he neared his father's office. Even now, as a grown man, he still wasn't comfortable with entering there. With an uncertainty he despised himself for, he knocked on the door, and obediently waited for the icy consent before walking in. Shuddering he looked around, taking in the sight of the green marble walls and the impressive, blackened oak desk that dominated the room. The only form of decoration was the occasional silver snakes that sneered at him from their statuettes and canvases. Somehow the creeping cold from outside seemed to have penetrated into this heart of the mansion, where it reigned as had 41 generations of heads of the Malfoy family. Narcissa's influence, so discreet, yet so noticeable in every other part of the Manor held no power over this secluded male domain. Reminded unpleasantly of childhood punishments and nervous requests for permissions, Draco swallowed hard and straightened his shoulders. "You wanted to see me, Father?"

Lucius Malfoy regarded him in silence for a few seconds, the tips of his fingers resting against one another. Then, in a treacherously calm tone he started, "How dare you bring one of those women into our home?"

For a moment Draco thought that his father after all knew Hermione's real identity, and his heart nearly stopped beating. But then Lucius continued, and he was able to breath again. "Whoever you decide to amuse yourself with is entirely your own choice, Draco. But to bring her in here," his lips tightened, "and that with the result that such a scene took place! And having your mother exposed to the presence of..."

"Don't speak ill of Hermione!" Draco cut him short, for the first in his life using a warning tone towards his father. "She is not someone I am 'amusing myself' with, she is going to be wife, and I won't tolerate anyone insulting her, including you, Father." Draco raised his head proudly, knowing full well that this kind of insolence could lead to disownment, or even death.

For an instant Lucius eyes flared, reminding of ice, stone or anything else glacial. Then he with obvious effort restrained his temper. "You are determined to bring that-" the revulsion in his voice was evident, "that half-blood into our family, then?"

"I am." There was an air of determined defiance around him.

"And - don't get me wrong, I do not mean any offence against your little sweetheart -" the tone in which he spoke of Hermione, so laden with contempt, made Draco clench his nails into his palms in order to sustain his self-control, "are you certain that she isn't some sort of gold-digger? A floozy who has laid her schemes to get her claws on you and now finally has succeeded?"

Draco couldn't help grin. "Very sure."

"May I take that," Lucius leaned back, an unreadable expression on his face, "as if this connection is not - shall we say - entirely voluntary from her side?"

Draco shifted uneasily, surprised as always over his father's sometimes uncanny insight. "Yes."

Lucius closed his eyes, for a moment in a loss for words. Please Father, I am begging you, don't do this, please, don't give me to him! You don't know what he's capable of! Don't let him do this to me, Father, please... The sound of a stroke had ended the girl's desperate plea. The sobs still resounded inside his head when his penetrating gaze again met his son's slightly guilty one. "And her parents?"

"I am the head of the Department of Social Relations, Father."

Lucius frowned. "That regulation can only be used if the girl is a Muggleborn."

Draco smiled slyly. "So we'll change it." For a moment father and son looked at each other in perfect understanding. "Besides," he added, "Hermione would never do anything to put her parents in danger, including indicating that she is not entirely, shall we say, content with this arrangement."

Lucius nodded contemplatively, then said, not as a question, but as a statement. "Naturally, we will not inform your mother of any of this."

"Of course not. I didn't mention anything about this to her before, either."

"Before? Tell me...," there was a silky tone to his voice, "was your mother aware of Miss Grage's presence here before our charming little encounter?"

"Miss Granger. And yes, Mother was. She didn't want to expose you to any tiresome sociality after you had had such a long day," Draco added as an explanation.

"How...thoughtful of her. And may I ask how she took the news of this forthcoming marriage?"

"I didn't let her know that we are going to marry." Draco was quite sure that his father wouldn't have liked her keeping such a secret from him. But he wasn't really worried. Like many others, Draco had the habit of regarding his mother and father not as if they were two actual individuals, but rather two-dimensional people who existed purely out of the function to be his parents. Of course he had noticed that Narcissa behaved slightly apprehensively around her husband, but then again, who didn't? To him the very thought of his father hurting his mother was ludicrous.

"I see." Lucius looked away to conceal his thoughts. This did indeed explain a lot. No wonder she had been so nervous. Right now she was probably waiting anxiously for his arrival, fearing what he had in store for her... "Well, like I said before, it's very late." He rose and held out his hand to indicate that the audience was over. Draco kissed his father's signet ring, and turned to leave, when Lucius suddenly approached him, brushing his son lightly through his fair hair in a way he had rarely done even when Draco was a small child. So low that it was nearly inaudible he said, "Be happy."

"I promise." The reply, coming instantaneously after years of thorough tutorage in complete, unquestioned obedience, made the corners of Lucius mouth twitch slightly. "Goodnight, Draco." With that he headed for his wife's bedroom, leaving his bewildered son to stare wonderingly after him.