Hand That Binds

2

Hermione Granger, now Lady Malfoy, had only 14,000 Galleons and several sickles in her bank account. Lucius only nodded at the statement his wife of three days showed him at the counter of the Diagon Alley Gringotts branch. He was actually very shocked that she would show him the slip of parchment. However, as she stood in the massive lobby, her hair smoothed down, pinned back from her face, dressed in her usual Ministry garb, but in all black, she looked very much like a woman who had more than fourteen thousand Galleons to her name. With her dark violet lipstick, fine black pearl teardrop earrings dangling from her perfect, small ears, and fine black heels that gave her two more inches, she looked very much like a Lady.

Everything was transferred to an account in her new name in New York. Another account was set up under both their names for her allowance, and she was given a tiny silver key to the new vault. All this was done rather quickly, the goblins seeming to want to get them both out of the bank. Lucius had thought he had a good rapport with the small highly sentient and sly beings, but they looked at him surlier than usual. Of course, he had not been into the bank in years and did all his business through the Apothecaries accountant or Ms. Turpin.

Granger was a particularly sore point by the way the goblins glared at her. He figured it had to do something with her impersonating Bellatrix, freeing the blind Ironbelly that went on to terrorize the Scottish countryside for over a year after the Last Battle. All of this he learned after the fact, of course. But soon, it was over, and she took his arm as they walked toward the doors.

"No flashbulbs?" he murmured as they stood atop the steps, looking down Diagon Alley.

Granger looked up at him with a tight smile from his left. "It is early yet, Lord Malfoy."

Lucius sighed. The few witches and wizards who had spotted them in the bank only stared. It was an occasion, he guessed, seeing him with the antithesis of everything he was on his arm. He had dressed in another charcoal suit, lighter than the one he was wed in, as the day in London turned sweltering. He wore his hair back in a tie and swapped his old snake-headed cane for something more innocuous. He had moved his wand from the cane long ago and opted for a quick-draw hip holster that was mostly hidden under the tail of his coat. Still, he looked something like Lucius Malfoy, and as they began walking down the Alley, Maizy gently pushing people out of the way with elf magic, he knew that everyone knew who they were.

Maizy was on high alert, but Pip trailed behind them, both their eyes scanning. The twins had not been from the Manor in many years, and they were nervous, but probably not as much as he was.

The sneers were unrestrained, and by the time they passed Quality Quidditch, the flashbulbs started. Granger jerked at the first one, and he straightened, slowly his pace, and noticed that Maizy was considering whether to attack or not. The twins had been told not to touch a soul unless it was in defense. When the jeers came, they were just outside of Madam Malkins.

"Blood traitor!" a gruff voice shouted and another flashbulb went off. Lucius opened the door for Granger, glancing back. A crowd had gathered, but it was impossible to tell where the voice came from. When a rotten head of cabbage arced over the heads of the crowd toward them, Pip cast at it and the produce flew like a missile back at the person who had tossed it. Lucius smirked at the startled shout in the back of the mob, and moved inside, Pip just behind.

"My Lady!" he heard from inside the shop, which he was assured would be emptied for them after a Floo call the day before. Malkin had been skeptical of Lucius, commenting how years before Narcissa had insulted her, insisting that she and Draco would take their business to her rival Twilfitt and Tattings. Lucius placated the woman with Galleons, and he had secured a private fitting for his new wife for the entire afternoon. Truth was, he never liked Twilfitt and Tattings for Narcissa, as he had, at one time, a Parisian tailor who came to the Manor personally for his clothing. He could not remember the name of the tailor after so long. But he did like Madam Malkin, her designs were decidedly more feminine, classic.