Expectancy

The Witch Bower

By Bambu

All standard disclaimers may be found in Chapter One. My continued thanks to SnarkyWench is perennial and I should mention that the name of the restaurant in this chapter coincidentally belongs to a cooking school in New York (the use of it in my story was entirely incidental.)

Chapter Two: Expectancy

~o0o~

As the bower fed upon the earth's inherent magic, a ripe eagerness shimmered in the spaces between tree trunk and river's edge, a sign of the past and of things to come. Water flirted with the protected perimeter, courting an extension of its boundaries. A broad stone allowed the meandering river to mold its shape, curving into a hollow, warmed by the residual heat of summer.

The bower held its breath in an expectant pause.

~o0o~

When the clock in my office chirped, Time to Primp, I practically leapt from the sofa as if Molly Weasley had sent me a Howler. Grabbing my cup and saucer, I deposited them in the kitchen before flying to my bedroom. Draco was picking me up in an hour.

I dressed carefully for dinner, wearing the robes I had worn on our first real date – dinner and dancing -- a year ago. He'd liked them.

"The color is immaterial, Granger. It clings."

That was the way he said the word, clings, drawling the syllable as if he had licked the very letters of the word onto my skin. My reaction was entirely visceral. Yes, a woman's knees really could go a bit wobbly from a compliment.

I smoothed my hands down the front of the robes, wriggling a little in pure feminine vanity. I was a little thinner than last year. All the time I spent with Draco was good for my figure.

I managed my hair, the continued bane of my existence, with a few charms and properly applied Sleakeasy's. Why hadn't anyone ever told me you needed to use it while your hair was wet? Of course, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil had been my dorm mates at school, and sweeter-tempered vipers you would never meet. I suppose it wasn't very nice to think of them that way. We did share a House affiliation, but we had never been and would never be friends.

Lavender and Parvati had finished their seventh year at Hogwarts and had sat their N.E.W.T.s in the ordinary way while I slept in tents and puked my guts out in fear as Harry, Ron, and I located first one, then another of Voldemort's Horcruxes. After the war, after my decision to remain in the wizarding world, I had been forced to lobby the Wizarding Examinations Authority, complete with letters from all my former professors – save Snape – before they allowed me to sit my exams. I had been twenty-one at the time.

Dragging a brush through my hair, I remembered my last encounter with Lavender Brown, now Goldstein. Having gone to Madam Malkin's to choose professional robes, I had been looking at myself in the magical tri-fold mirrors. The Charmed mirrors showed all angles of a set of robes without the customer having to contort themselves into pretzels to see the line of their back.

"That swot look always did suit you best."

Turning to see who was so rude, I saw her: Mrs. Anthony Goldstein. That's how she introduced herself to people. It's a pleasure to meet you; I'm Mrs. Anthony Goldstein. It was as if her entire identity evolved as a result of her marriage. Making the mistake of giggling the first time she used the phrase in my presence, I managed to destroy whatever civility we had maintained over the years.

Thus, hearing her comment, I took the liberty of being expedient and ignoring her. Evidently, Lavender hated being ignored, even if was by me.

"Did you ever pass your N.E.W.T.s, Hermione? I heard you begged Mrs. Marchbanks to let you sit the exams."

My lower lip occupied my teeth, preventing me from saying anything which would lengthen her stay. Instead I consoled myself with the fact that her hips would soon rival Molly Weasley's in the matronly department.

"I never," she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder, "thought you could be quiet if your nose wasn't buried in a book. Perhaps Malfoy's been practicing some of his father's arts to keep you docile."

That did it.

I had listened to Bellatrix Lestrange insult my heritage, my looks, my integrity and my chastity across a battlefield without so much as a flinch, but insult someone I cared about and my temper flared like an Unforgivable. Two seconds after Lavender had spoken, my wand dug into her soft belly and I dropped my voice to something low and threatening. "Say what you will about me, Mrs. Goldstein, but utter another word about Draco and I'll have you brought before the Wizengamot on charges of slander."

Her doughy face paled and only an imbecile would have missed the tension between us. The saleswitch was obviously not unintelligent, and interrupted us with a timorous, "Is everything all right, Miss Granger?"

Backing away from my former dorm mate, I carefully hid my wand. "I'll take these robes, they're perfect. I'm certainly going to remember seeing you today, Lavender. I'm sure you'll remember it, too. Won't you?"

I didn't wait to see if she mustered a response. By the time I left the shop she was gone, but I came away with two important things: a set of professional dress robes and the realization that I loved Draco Malfoy.

The mirror over my sink clucked at me, bringing me out of my reverie.

It was time to shake off the memory of Lavender and anyone else who gave Draco and me oddly speculative looks or whispered as we passed. This was my birthday and the man I loved was picking me up in ...

Damn!

... less than five minutes.

I had spent too long day-dreaming. I wasn't quite ready.

Of course, this would be the day Draco chose to be early. "Granger?"

"Just getting my shoes." Without glancing in the mirror for a last look, I slid into my new court heels. They were high enough to look pretty without having that cramp-inducing arch which made women walk as if they'd been hobbled.

Like the gentleman he was, Draco waited at the Apparition point. When I got my first look at him, his splendor nearly stole my breath. He looked spectacular in a charcoal gray set of dress robes with a French blue dress shirt. The expression on his face made me falter though; it reflected a longing I didn't quite understand, but it was gone in a moment.

"You're stunning, Granger."

Me, not the robes, not the heels or hair or make up, but me. He thought I was stunning. It was compliments like that which set him apart from other men – wizard and Muggle alike.

My heart raced and I crossed the room, ignoring the gift he offered. It was a slim rectangle which was most likely a book, but I wanted the favor of a kiss instead. Threading my fingers through his hair, excitement burned low in my abdomen. His lips were just a little chapped, but I didn't care. I nipped his bottom lip then flicked my tongue. When his tongue joined mine I felt the electric jolt all the way to my toes.

"Mmmmm," I hummed, "you taste wonderful."

"I taste wonderful?"

"You're very pretty to look at, too, but kiss me again."

He obliged me. It was my birthday after all.

Warm lips, dangerously sinuous tongue ... my breath caught in my chest and my nipples tingled. Why couldn't this be the way he did everything? When we broke the kiss, I rearranged his hair. My fingers had mussed it in their enthusiasm.

"Aren't you going to open your present?" His voice was deep and a wee bit ragged.

"If you'd like me to, unless we'll be late for our reservations."

"The restaurant will hold them." It was such a Malfoy thing to say I shook my head and smiled.

He handed me the package then. It was beautifully wrapped with Self-Correcting Paper For All Occasions which changed from gold to silver the moment we entered the lounge.

I wondered what Draco had chosen for me. He knew I didn't like overly sentimental, commercialized gifts. It was something I had learned from Ron, who never quite had two galleons to rub together. Once the three of us had gone into hiding, Ron had still managed to give me the most remarkable things, always something unexpected, always heartfelt.

Draco sat next to me on the Biedermeier while I carefully pulled off the emerald green ribbon.

"Get to it already, Granger." He twisted the signet ring on his finger.

This was the first significant gift he'd ever given me and he watched like his Eagle Owl brooding over its nest egg. Something about his intensity made the gift more special, and I dropped the ribbon on the table before peeling back the paper.

He hadn't gotten me a book.

It was a small, flat box which, when opened, revealed an International Portkey, departure and arrival date to be determined, for the Library at Alexandria.

I dropped it and launched myself into his arms. Even with the grant money from the Ministry, there wouldn't have been enough for a trip to the great wizarding library.

Kissing him everywhere -- his lips, his cheeks, his nose, then lips again -- I managed to ask, "How ... how could you afford this?"

Draco stiffened beneath me. "It's a gift, Granger. You don't ask questions like that."

His lips thinned and I kissed them soft and plump. "It's the most marvelous gift you could have given me, Draco. I just ... I know that rebuilding your estate is important and I don't want you to compromise ..."

A slightly calloused palm cupped my cheek and I leaned against it. "I didn't compromise. If it'll make you feel better, I sold Lucius' cane collection and used the money from the sale."

I stared at him, at the tiny quirk lifting the corner of his mouth, and then we both burst into laughter at the irony of Lucius Malfoy – living or dead --financing a Muggle-born's research. "Then I shall enjoy the trip even more," I managed to say between bouts of giggles.

His hands positioned me so he could stand, then he pulled me to my feet. "By the time you come to the Manor, there won't be anything left which could remind you --" He broke off his comment, shifting uncomfortably as if he'd said too much.

I was surprised. He had never invited me to Malfoy Manor before. We had always stayed here or in other places in the wizarding world, but never Wiltshire, never his home. "Thank you, Draco. You know how much this means to me."

He forestalled any other questions I might ask. "It's time to leave."

We arrived at Epicurious exactly on time. The restaurant's stone façade was quite grand and its windows shone with constant care. We were met at the door by the Maitre d'. "Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger, your table is ready for you."

Winding our way through the stylish dining room where several couples and foursomes were already seated throughout the room, I was reminded of the Connaught Hotel. Epicurious' mahogany walls gleamed with polish and the large fireplace was alight with a blazing fire. The chairs were plush and upholstered in a deep chocolate brown print. I relaxed immediately in the familiar yet new atmosphere and murmured a question to Draco, "Did you remember about my grandmother?"

"You mean where she used to take you for tea?"

He was so smug that I knew he'd ventured into Muggle Mayfair to see the historic hotel. He could be so lovable at times. I touched his arm in thanks, but he pulled away. It wasn't obvious to those watching, but it felt like a slap to me. Draco wasn't one for public displays of affection. It was one of those Malfoy things which had slipped my mind.

Expecting to be shown to one of the tables in the main room, I was surprised when we were escorted to a small, private room. Two casement windows overlooked a narrow lane outside the restaurant, and the candles burned brightly from lamps hanging at intervals.

The table was set for two, gold flatware and fine china already sparkling against crimson table linen. A remarkable arrangement of pure white fluted tulips was set in the center of the table. The flowers must have come from the Malfoy greenhouses as tulips were out of season. Besides none of the other tables in the restaurant had flower arrangements.

The Maitre d' held my chair while I took my seat, and I waited until Draco and I were alone to speak. "Thank you, Draco. The flowers are stunning."

"Happy birthday, Hermione."

"It's been wonderful."

"It's not over yet. I think you'll remember tonight for a long time to come." A slight flush stained his pale cheeks, but it could have been the heat of the room.

"I'll remember it for the company."

He smiled, pleased. "I hope you don't mind that I've taken the liberty of planning the menu?"

Under other circumstances I might have been annoyed by his presumption. "Not at all. I'm sure whatever you've chosen will be delicious."

It was.

The first course was roasted fennel bisque accompanied by a crisp white wine. Our conversation shifted with the courses and the wines, from light-hearted conversation to more serious topics, and I told him about seeing his mother at St. Mungo's.

A Montrachet accompanied the fish course of sautéed John Dory filets tucked into phyllo dough resting atop a bed of saffron vegetables. When I released the steam on my pastry bundle, Draco asked, "When would you need to go to Alexandria?"

"Ideally, it should be as soon as possible. Historically, the wizarding and Muggle world co-existed for centuries before Hogwarts was founded and the Statute of Secrecy enacted. I need proof of that harmony. Bill Weasley offered to give me a reference to the site at Giza, but Alexandria is ... Draco, it's more than I'd hoped for." Suddenly my eyes were misty and I reached for his hand.

Draco recoiled, reading my intention clearly. "Not here, Granger. We're in public."

We were alone in a private room, with no one to see but the waiter. I blinked furiously, hurt beyond expression. After a minute, when I was still struggling to find my composure, I said, "Will you excuse me for a moment? I need to find the ladies' ..."

Immediately, he rose from his chair and stepped around the table and next to me saying very quietly, "Later. When we're completely alone."

I forced a smile. "All right. Give me a minute though."

He escorted me to the door, his eyes following me as I made my way through the diners. At least half the restaurant was watching us, either openly or covertly.

Once I was in the ladies' room, I took a series of deep breaths. Then I splashed water on my face, staring into the wood framed mirror, and tried to get my emotions under control. My thoughts were in a jumble. Draco's gift and the choice of restaurant were so wonderful, but how could I be in a relationship where I couldn't express myself freely? I understood – who better – how it felt to be under the judgmental eyes of society. From my fourth year at school when I'd received hate mail to more recent events after the war, I had learned full well how cruel public scrutiny could be, but I refused to give into it, to be something or someone I wasn't. Couldn't he see there was a happy medium?

Not wanting Draco to see how hurt I was, I cast a quick glamour over my eyes and nose, disguising the redness from my tears. I retraced my steps to the private room, slowing as I could clearly see Draco talking to our waiter. He handed the man several galleons and a small velvet box.

A jeweler's box.

Oh!

Now his comments about remembering this night for the rest of our lives and his being able to stay overnight at my flat soon made sense.

This was serious. He was serious. More serious than I'd given him credit for.

I practically bolted.

My palms were slick with nerves and my heart beat erratically. My mind whirled in distress. I loved him, yes. But marriage? I couldn't. Not with so many things left unsaid between us.

The Maitre d' spoke quietly from behind me. "Can I be of service to Miss Granger?"

I couldn't ... wouldn't ... embarrass Draco this way.

My mind raced.

"Yes, please. I'm not feeling terribly well. Could you --" I grabbed at his arm as if I were about to faint.

He supported me instantly, guiding me to the nearest unoccupied chair. "How may I assist you?"

The back of my neck prickled and I felt every eye in the restaurant on me; my palm itched to grab my wand. "Could you fetch Mr. Malfoy, please?"

"Immediately, Miss Granger."

I closed my eyes and truly felt unwell.

"Granger? Are you all right?" Draco's voice came from somewhere above me and I couldn't bring myself to look into his eyes.

"No," I said faintly. "Suddenly, I'm not feeling at all well. Could you ... would you?"

His shoes shifted, a shiny contrast to the richly woven Oriental rug beneath his feet. "We'll leave immediately."

I nodded briefly, fully aware of the scene I was making. Better this than -- let them talk about Draco's chivalry. Let them talk about anything but the fact that I was terrified he might ask me to marry him.

Carefully, he assisted me to my feet and through the restaurant. His arms were strong and sure, and I leaned on him, keeping my eyes on the floor. By the time we left the restaurant, I was nauseated and dizzy.

We were at my flat within minutes, and he held his tongue the entire time we were in public. The moment we entered my flat, he asked, "Granger? What's wrong with you?"

I stumbled toward my bedroom. "I don't ... I can't ... maybe it's been too much ...."

He helped me onto the bed while pressing one of his palms against my brow. "You've been working too many hours. You push yourself too hard." His hand was gentle and I couldn't hold the tears back any longer. "Granger?" He sounded panicked.

"It's ... it's ... all right." I sobbed, turning my head into the soft cotton of my pillow, silently calling myself a coward. "I'm ... I'll be all right."

The edge of my bed dipped as he sat. "Hermione, what can I do?"

"Nuh – nuh – nothing," I wailed.

He muttered an incantation and, in the next moment, placed a cool cloth over my eyes. His very solicitousness made me cry harder. I loved him but I was afraid it wouldn't be enough. I didn't want to end up like my parents. I didn't want to hurt Draco.

"Shh-shhh," he whispered softly. After another minute, a diagnostic spell swept over my skin. "You're exhausted, Granger. We could have celebrated your birthday another night."

"I'm sorry, Draco. Really I am." I kept my eyes closed, but tears escaped their prison.

He held my hand for a long time, as if debating with himself. I prayed that he wasn't going to ask me to marry him now.

He didn't. I was relieved but it didn't make me feel any better.

"Not to worry." His free hand rubbed my back, soothing away my distress. "There will be other times. I have to be at the Manor in the morning, and you'll probably feel better for a good night's sleep. Floo me when you wake up. Don't set your alarm, all right?"

Was it any wonder I loved this man?

I was so confused.

"All right," I whispered. "Thank you, Draco, for everything."

He kissed my cheek, pulled off my shoes and folded the duvet over me. "Go to sleep, love."

Within minutes he had left and I cried myself to sleep.

The next morning, my head felt as if it had been stuffed with old Quidditch uniforms, caked with grime and stiff from disuse. My eyes were so puffy they were practically sealed shut, and my body felt as if I'd been dueling against the Carrows. Groggily, I made my way to the bathroom, squinting at my reflection in the mirror. The light hurt my head and my stomach churned.

It wasn't often I had a migraine, but this was certainly one worth remembering. I felt like crawling into the rubbish bin and hiding for a month. Instead, I fumbled in the cabinet for a potion. I couldn't take it on an empty stomach, so I stumbled to the kitchen. The pale buttercream of the walls and the yellow tile was entirely too cheery for me. At least I was still in my clothes from the night before and my wand was tucked into the sheath along my left arm.

I flicked and swished, blocking the light from the window over the sink and silencing the sound of the tea kettle. Weak tea and toast were all I could manage. I steeped my tea and added a little milk, then nibbled on my toast as I made my way back to bed.

My room was blessedly dark and I set the mug on the shelf next to my eagle feather quill and stack of parchment. I shed my robes from the night before, dropping them into a burgundy puddle of fine linen. I unbuckled my wand sheathe and left it atop my dresser, then rummaged in the top drawer for my oldest, most frayed nighty. It was flannel and had a pattern of tiny periwinkle flowers which were almost faded to nonexistence. I had slept in it my last two years at Hogwarts, and it always gave me the feeling of being safe.

After I drank my tea, I popped the cork on the small vial I'd left beside the bed. The potion burned all the way to my stomach, but the nausea subsided quickly. I laid back and stared at the dark ceiling.

What was wrong with me? A man who loved me ... who I loved in return ... wanted to marry me.

Why had I panicked?

Hadn't I managed to stay friends with Ron and Harry through the most impossible of circumstances?

Of course, I knew what it was. It was my parents, but Mum and Dad came from a different generation. They didn't talk about things much.

That was just it. Draco and I hadn't talked about things, either. We talked about everything else, but this one area was so ... so ripe for misunderstanding, so tied to one's sense of self-worth.

A bath.

That's what I needed. For some reason, my thoughts always seemed to clear when my body was neck deep in hot water. Pleased to have chosen a course of action, I rose and drew a bath. While the steaming water poured from the old-fashioned faucet, I filled an empty sachet with uncut oats, rosemary, and calendula flowers. Dropping the sachet into the tub, the hot water activated the herbs, filling the bathroom with the rosemary's pungent fragrance and the delicate sweetness of calendula. The sachet spun in a dizzying whirlpool before I sank into the tub, letting the water cover me to my chin. My thoughts swirled and spun -- heat and passion and love and lust and the future -- until my thoughts resembled the whirlpool I'd set into motion with the sachet.

I soaked until the water was cold.

Regrettably, no solution presented itself to me by the time I wrapped myself in a towel.

"Granger?" I couldn't tell if Draco was in my flat or only on the Floo. "Hermione? Are you all right? Sod this! I'm coming through."

"I'm here, I'm here," I called, and my throat tightened at the concern I could hear in his voice. "I was in the bath."

The stormy expression cleared the instant he saw me. "What's going on, Granger? How are you?"

"I woke up with a wretched migraine. I've only just got up."

"Nice towel."

I actually smiled. "Thanks. I was about to put on the old flannel nighty."

"My loss." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Look, do you want me to come over? I have to be at the estate from midnight on, but I could bring you dinner."

How could I not want to marry this man? "Thanks, but I'll just open a tin of soup and go back to bed. You were right, I really am tired."

Draco preened a little. That was the way to any man's heart – it wasn't food or sex – well, maybe a little sex -- but tell him he was right and he preened.

"We didn't finish dinner last night," he said. "Dessert was going to be the best part."

I replied honestly, "Your thoughtfulness was the best part, Draco."

He actually blushed. It was adorable. Add flattery to the list of How to Manage a Man.

"Dessert, Granger. When shall we have dessert?"

"Day after tomorrow? There's something I want to talk with you about."

He frowned. "That sounds ominous."

"It's not really." I toyed with the edge of my towel.

"Something I need to know about before dessert?"

"Just something to talk about in person. When we talk by Floo I can't kiss you."

"We can't do other things by Floo either," he replied, and his eyes darkened, an odd greenish black in the off-colored flames.

"True." Despite the odd color of his eyes, I recognized his expression and my voice was a little breathless. "So, the twenty-second? Will you have dinner or do you only want dessert?" I blushed at my unintentional innuendo.

"Dinner sounds good. We'll need it before dessert and after." He cocked his eyebrow.

I giggled and he laughed. It wasn't often we were silly, but it always left me feeling buoyed with self-confidence. "Good luck tomorrow," I said.

He gave me a sharp look. "What do you mean?"

"You know, with whatever it is you're doing at the estate. I know you've been working on it for months."

The tense look vanished. "Thanks, Granger. I look forward to showing it to you soon."

"I'd like that."

We chatted inconsequentially for a few minutes before saying good night.

We were comfortable talking about so many things that discussing our sex life should be easy. Right? Right. It had all the classic ingredients for backfiring in my face, but he needed to hear and understand my concerns if I was going to consider his proposal seriously. I finally acknowledged to myself just how much I wanted to take his proposal seriously.

Draco really had been right, I was exhausted. All those weeks of preparation for the oral presentation had left me low on sleep. By the time I crawled into bed, I wasn't even interested in a little tension relief to get me to sleep.

It would be good to have that talk with him. I snuggled into my pillow and my last thoughts before sleep claimed me were of Draco.

Unfortunately we never had that conversation on the twenty-second.

~o0o~