A Rake, A Spinster, And An Arrangement

Chapter 31: A Disaster (Ep 7)

Hermione tried to relax as she sat upon one of the settees in the library. The space normally gave her such comfort, filled with knowledge and research and stories, but today, she was unable to relax. Partially, this was because she had not slept the night before and had been rather uncomfortable in the Duchess's rooms, without her things, but also, because she was on her guard.

Normally, Draco would check on her throughout the day, and she would have, in the past, smiled and kissed him back. While she had been ill, he had still checked on her, but she had not forced herself to smile, blaming it on her exhaustion. Now, however...

Now, if she looked at him, she feared she would throw a shoe at him, or worse, a book.

She didn't want to look at him. Didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want to be in the same room as him. In fact, if she looked at him for even more than a breath, she might punch him, which he rather well deserved.

The bastard... to do such a...

No. She would not think of it. She could not change it, nor could she change him. All she could do was bide her time until they returned to London, at which point in time, she would throw herself into her work and avoid him at all costs. He could take up residence somewhere else, and they could live apart while he enjoyed the bribery money, and in a few year's time...

In a few year's time, when he needed to set her aside, perhaps she would have enough friends, then, that she would be able to find companionship and someone to take her in. Perhaps, even, with the Prince's help, she would be able to find sanctuary from her Uncle.

She just had to wait. Wait until she returned to London.

The first thing she had done, when she had entered the library, was to sit at one of the small writing desks. She had taken to sitting in the library to write her correspondence, which, while she did have a number of rooms at her disposal, had become her habit, as she enjoyed the lighting in the library the most and felt the most comfortable there, save for their bedchamber.

Now, however... she was glad that she could write her letters with plenty of space.

Because, every time she had picked up her pen to write, the noise outside had stopped, and a few moments later, she had heard the sound of boots in the hallway. And so, each time, she had to stop and hide, to tuck herself away.

Sometimes, Draco entered the library, although he did not call out for her. He simply walked through, as though a reminder that this was his house and she was his wife and property. He would simply... walkthrough, and then return outside. And each time, when the shooting resumed, she would once more sit at the writing desk, attempting to pen a letter.

But what could one say in one letter, when so much had occurred?

And now, after having given up on sending correspondence, she was attempting to read... and listening to the sounds of shots.

They stopped once more, and she rose from the settee, looking about the room. There was always somewhere small to tuck herself in, just in case he entered the library. It was not every time, which made her want to shoot him. She knew this was a game to him, that he was toying with her, torturing her.

Had she not suffered enough at his hands? Had she not suffered enough heartbreak and anxiety already?

"Your Grace," said a voice behind her, and Hermione nearly shrieked as she whirled around to see one of the footmen standing there.

"Yes, what is it?" she asked, nervously looking about, worried that Draco had sent the footman for her. Would he expect her to come? Should she even follow the footman? Would it be appropriate for her to simply... run in the other direction?