In the case of Astoria, it was not surprising. But Draco had protected his father over the years, Hermione was certain of it. It would have been far easier for Draco to have orchestrated Lucius' death at some point than to account for his father's constant unpredictability.
Draco paused in the rose gardens and scowled. “She's headed to the veranda to meet us.”
He rolled his neck so that it cracked, straightening as his expression schooled itself into one of indolent viciousness. He sauntered around the corner of the manor, Hermione following a few subservient steps behind him. Astoria was waiting for them, her hands on her hips.
The corner of Astoria's mouth twisted upwards as she stared down the steps at Draco and Hermione. She lifted a thin shoulder. “How did I guess I'd find you two together out here?”
“I imagine you asked a house-elf,” Draco said as he ascended the steps and looked her over coolly. “I thought you were spending the summer in France, Astoria. Did they cast you out?”
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?”