Astoria's lips curled so that her teeth were briefly bared as she raised her chin. “I'm here for the celebration. You're going to be the guest of honor. Do you realize how much people will talk if your wife doesn't attend with you?”
Draco raised his eyebrows skeptically, and Astoria glanced over at Hermione.
“What? Were you going to take her? Sit her on your lap and fondle her publicly the way Amycus does with his?” She rolled her eyes. “No. That's hardly your style. You can't keep her under a mountain of wards if she's let out in public.”
Astoria tossed her head. “I'm not required to get permission to return to my own home. I'm here to appear beside my beloved husband. People are beginning to talk.”
Astoria's expression was growing pinched, and her lips pursed briefly as she stared resentfully up at Draco. “Not that you ever pay attention, but they do talk about you so very much.” Her voice was saccharine. “I find myself unable to do anything but answer the endless questions about you when I go out. They all want to know when you'll visit me.” She gave a laugh like shattering glass. “Adrian joked at a party that you've been staying here in England because your paternal side is starting to come out, and then the whole room laughed because everyone knows the only thing you do is kill things.”
Draco's mouth quirked at the corner. “Well — I'll be rather busy for most of it. You'll spend most of the event with my father. I don't believe you two are acquainted.”
Astoria's brittle expression rippled as a flash of uncertainty appeared on her face. “Really? Lucius? He's back in Britain?”
Then her expression sharpened, and she glared at Hermione. “Because of her?”
Draco followed his wife's gaze and stared at Hermione with hardened eyes. “Hardly. The Dark Lord has recalled him to assume some of my duties now that my new status has so many demands upon my time.”
Draco's mouth twisted into a mocking smirk. “He's a touch eccentric now, my father, but you both share certain interests; perhaps he'll like you.” He shrugged and looked Astoria over once again before summoning Hermione up the steps with a quick movement of his hand. “Do keep out of the way, Astoria, if you possibly can.”
He started towards the doors, and Hermione followed him, trying not to make eye contact with Astoria.
As Hermione passed, Astoria spoke up in a low voice “He's going to kill you.”
Hermione froze briefly, and Astoria continued. “Didn't you know? You're dead — as soon as that baby's out of your belly. The Dark Lord wants your corpse. I hope he does something foul with it.”
“Astoria, didn't I say something a few months ago about talking to the Mudblood?” Draco drawled dangerously from the doorway.
Astoria paled and stepped back
“Mudblood,” Draco's voice was sharp as a blade. “Come before I drag you.”
Hermione continued towards Draco, feeling Astoria's eyes on her back.
When they got inside her room, Hermione drew a deep breath and turned, folding her arms tightly around herself. “Tell me the whole plan. I need to know — I need you to tell me the whole plan.”
Draco closed the door firmly and stood in front of it. His eyes were calculating as he stared at her. After a moment he looked down and straightened his cuffs.
“Assuming Severus doesn't arrive late, you'll leave before the anniversary celebration. It will destabilise things more rapidly if I fail to appear during the event. It's intended to be a show of strength; the Dark Lord will be hard-pressed to excuse my absence.” He waved his hand dismissively. “But — that's all beside the point. Once your manacles are off, you and Severus will immediately fly to Denmark. He knows the location of the safehouse. When you've taken the portkey, he'll return. If things go according to plan, his disappearance will have been unnoticed, and he'll remain in place as long as he can.”
Hermione shook. “What about you?” She felt as though she were being crushed to death. “After I leave — what exactly happens to you?”
His mouth curved into a thin smile. “I'll be making sure no one notices that Severus has gone missing for half a day. I'll make an appearance of having tried to run with you, and leave another Death Eater to be found, who will be assumed to be the secondary party involved.” He sighed. “It was supposed to be Montague, given his known fascination with you. But there are other options I have in mind now.” He shrugged. “It's a minor detail either way.”
“What happens to you?” Hermione said again.
He met her gaze seriously. “I won't be captured, if that's what you're worrying about. I have too much information to risk interrogation.”
He glanced down and appeared to be inspecting the polish on the toes of his shoes. “Don't worry. It'll be quick." He looked up at her with a faint smile. "I'm rather good at making it quick.”
Hermione's mouth twisted, and she turned away and went over to the window.
She'd thought she'd run out of tears during her imprisonment beneath Hogwarts, but now she found herself constantly fighting them back.
She could feel him walking up behind her until his robes brushed against hers. She pressed her hand against the window and stared despairingly out across the estate.
It was a cage. The open sky and rolling hills were an illusion of freedom. In all the time she'd known him and been his prisoner, he'd been more chained in place than she was.
“I don't want you to die, Draco.”
His left hand slipped around her waist and rested against her lower abdomen. She pressed her lips together, but her jaw still trembled.
“Draco—” her mouth twisted, and her cheekbones felt hollow and ached. There was a shriveling sense of despair in her chest. She dropped her forehead against the cold glass, “Don't — don't — I don't want you to die...”
“I know.”
He slipped his other arm around her shoulders, and she pressed her cheek against the back of his hand.
She gripped the hand over her abdomen, and they stood in silence until he sighed and straightened. “I have to go. With Astoria here too — it's not worth the additional risk.”
Hermione looked down at the floor and nodded. Her throat catching with guilt. They'd had less than a month, and she'd spent it researching. Now — the little bit of time left was cut short.
He withdrew his hands, and she felt him vanish.
He still came that night. After the lights in the manor were out, he appeared in her room.
“Well, my father and Astoria have met.” He rolled his jaw as he pulled off his outer formal robes. “He likes her even less than I'd expected. I suppose it would be more unfortunate if they seemed to like each other, but the antagonism over dinner was tedious in a matter of minutes.”
The corner of his mouth quirked upwards for a moment before his expression closed again.
“You can be here now?” she asked after a moment.
He nodded. “I'll know if they come to my door. It's more likely to be my father wanting a drinking partner than Astoria expecting to share my bed.” He seated himself on the edge of the mattress.
Hermione's chest tightened and she looked down at her hands. Astoria's return to the manor placed a certain emphasis on Draco's presence beside Hermione in bed.
He was married. He had a wife.
Yet here he was in Hermione's bed because she was — his mistress.
Or sex slave. That was her intended function, as a surrogate and sex slave.
Disregarding her imprisonment, she was still categorically his mistress.
She looked up to find Draco studying her and forced a smile. “No, I don't suppose she will.”
They slept face to face. He held her almost crushed against his chest, and she could feel his heartbeat against her cheek.