Once they'd both redressed, Draco refilled her wine glass before they set off throughout the house. They ambled through the many rooms of the first floor, most of them richly decorated studies or tea rooms for entertaining. She seemed pleased by everything he showed her and though she constantly asked questions, a sudden thought occurred: this didn't impress her in the way it would other women. Not in the way his library had, but that had less to do with the monetary value contained within those shelves and everything to do with the amount of knowledge at his disposal in that room alone.
Hermione wasn't wandering from room to room calculating the amount of gold each piece of art, decoration, tapestry, or furniture must have cost. Instead, she asked thoughtful questions about the design choices, inquired as to the history of certain paintings, offered her opinion and admiration of the style of architecture. She was trying to get to know Draco via the place he called home, not envision all the fabulous ways she could spend his money.
Unfortunately, Draco had honestly handed over much of the decorating control to his mother and a team of interior designers, so most of the rooms were quite impersonal, in his opinion.
"Have you ever hosted a ball in here?"
They had reached the grand ballroom, and Hermione left his side to walk to the middle of the gleaming, parquet floors. She revolved slowly on the spot with her head craned toward the ceiling to take in the twinkling mural of the celestial sphere that covered the overhead entirely.
"No, I'm not one for entertaining large parties, if you couldn't tell," he responded, wryly. "I leave that task to my mother. Besides, her ballroom is easily triple the size of this one."
A small smile graced her features as she continued to peruse the constellation groups up above. Draco had a sudden vision of gathering her in his arms and twirling her about the dance floor in front of hundreds of guests, proudly showing off the witch he could now call his own.
"Draco," she called softly, breaking his reverie. He looked over, but her eyes were still trained on the ceiling. Hermione pointed upwards and he found that she was indicating his namesake constellation in the mural.
"It's a tradition, on my mother's side, to name children after constellations or stars."
"I gathered," she replied. "Sirius, Regulus, Andromeda..." she ticked off. "Do you like your name?" she asked suddenly.
Draco shrugged, having never really considered it before. He recalled once that Ron Weasley had mocked his name, but really, that ginger git had no legs to stand on with a surname like Weasley.
"I like hearing it from you," he murmured and her brown eyes snapped to his. Hermione blushed and broke the gaze.
"Can you take me around the grounds? Since I Flooed here I didn't have a chance to appreciate any of the landscape or gardens."
Draco scratched the back of his head and considered her request. "Unfortunately it's late so you won't be able to see anything in the darkness. We can sit on the verandah for a while if you'd like."
She grinned and nodded and he led the way out of the ceiling high French doors from the ballroom. It was a pleasantly cool evening, and in the darkness of the countryside, the real stars shone just as brightly as their faux counterparts in the ballroom mural.
Draco waved his wand in a brisk pattern and the many torches and lamps lining the stone railings and footpaths came to life. He heard Hermione suck in a surprised breath at the vastness of the space before her, and though it was mostly hidden by the night, he was sure she could just make out the edges of the sprawling back lawns and gardens that abutted a dense forest.
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Remain Nameless
RomanceHow did it feel? It felt like he was barely holding it together. She, of all people, should shun him. Or yell at him. Curse him. Spit at him. Take out her wand and blast him off the face of the earth. It was crushing guilt and relief and confusion a...