Mrs Peacock in the Library with the Candlestick

Pairings: HP/GW, HG/BZ

Quietones Challenge #32

Elements to include: A spell, a costume, something Muggle, an armchair, a candle

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter in this fic belong to J. K. Rowling, not me. I'm not making any profit off of this nor do I intend any copyright or trademark infringement. Cluedo does not belong to me, it belongs to Hasbro Ltd. Die Unaussprechlichen Kulten belongs to H.P Lovecraft.

A/N The armchair and candle immediately made me think of my favourite muggle board game Cluedo (known in North America as Clue). Judging by the way Hermione attacked the logic puzzle in the Philosopher's Stone, I imagine she'd like it a lot. Unfortunately this fic doesn't make a lot of sense without any knowledge of the game.

"I accuse Colonel Mustard-" Hermione's brown eyes flicked quickly to Ron, then resolutely back to the game board "-in the Library with the dagger."

"Bloody hell, why's it always me?" Ron muttered as Blaise stopped his pacing and with a swish of his purple robes, drew his wand to tap an envelope in the middle of the game board, which was sitting on an ornate desk in the Malfoy Manor study.

"Cluedo," he said and a silvery mist rose up from the envelope and split into three distinct plumes. One slowly gained a yellow hue and formed a likeness of Ron's face, tinted yellow and wearing a helmet. Another formed an illusion of a dagger, dripping with silvery blood. The third revealed itself to be a image of the Malfoy Manor library replete with small details, most notably a copy of Die Unaussprechlichen Kulten lying open on a table.

Hermione squinted at the misty image of the library. "Draco, you really shouldn't do that with your books," she said, her head tilted slightly and her lips pursed in disapproval. She continued "It warps the spine. That's the 1845 Bridewell translation, it deserves better than that."

"Don't fuss Hermione. It's only a book." Ginny grinned from her perch on the side of the desk next to the game board, resplendent in red dress robes for her role of Miss Scarlett.

While Hermione spluttered indignantly, Harry cleared his throat. He was standing next to the fireplace, looking distinctly uncomfortable in his corset, apron and hat. "Does one of you mind getting this maid costume off me? I would do it myself but-" Harry blushed furiously "-I can't reach my wand. It's in my back pocket."

"Sorry, Potter. We gambled fair and square for who gets the privilege of being Mrs White and you lost." Draco smirked gleefully from the velvet upholstered armchair behind the desk Ginny was sitting on. "Besides, I think suspenders are quite your look. We need a new servant now after Granger here dismissed our house-elves."

Hermione gave Draco a dirty look and grabbed her wand. She quickly performed the requisite charm and Harry was back in his usual black robes, rubbing his thigh where the suspenders had dug into his leg.

"I think I've had enough fun for tonight," Harry said dryly to Hermione. Ginny hopped off the table she was sitting on to move towards him. They both waved good-bye to their friends and made their way to the fireplace.

"Oi Ginny!" Ron shouted, just as they were about to make their way through the floo system. "Aren't you going to change your robes back?"

Ginny twirled, the red silk flying through the air. "I'm quite attached to them now," she said happily.

"And you look wonderful in them." Harry smiled and kissed the top of her head. They both shouted "The Potter flat!", stepped into the green flames of the fireplace and were gone.

"Well, suppose it's time for me to leave too then," Ron said, getting up from his cushion on the floor. He tipped his helmet exaggeratedly to Hermione, shook hands with Blaise and nodded at Draco.

"See you guys later then," he said, throwing floo powder onto the fire and shouting "The Burrow!".

"You two, put away the board. Make sure all the pieces are there, we don't want to lose any. Put the alcohol away before you get any on your clothes or papers. I'm going to rescue that poor book," Hermione said and strode purposefully out the door in a flurry of blue robes before either Blaise or Draco could protest.

"She's mad." Draco said with a grin.

"Undoubtedly," Blaise replied, his eyes amused. "That poor book she's going on about was banned by the Krakow Wizarding Convention of 1873."

"Really?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "You're just full of fascinating facts aren't you, my dear houseguest."

This time it was Blaise's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Hogwarts' finest aren't needed until September," Draco said slowly, relishing his moment of intellectual superiority. "You might as well stay here, Professor. It's your big chance."

Blaise was surprised. Though if anyone had guessed his secret, it would have been Draco. "Chance?"

Draco folded his hands together and grinned slyly. "Don't play dumb Blaise. It'll be the first time you've been able to get her alone. How long has it been anyway?"

"Since the beginning," Blaise answered quietly. The beginning. Blaise remembered when he and Draco had turned themselves in to the Order of the Phoenix. He remembered the suspicious glances and the subtle whispers of everyone around him. The silent accusations, the covert hexes and the paranoia were still a cause of pain for the both of them. But most of all he remembered that Hermione had simply accepted them at face value, showing no signs of mistrust in her eyes. From the moment he had first seen her there she had believed in them and from that moment, Blaise had loved her.

"Since the beginning." Draco nodded somberly, his eyes distant. His customary smirk soon reasserted itself however and he said lightly "Remember Blaise, Mrs Peacock in the library with the books."

Blaise's eyes widened and he left the room as quickly as he could, stopping for a second in front of a floor length mirror to silently charm his robes from purple to dark green without any discernible effort on his part.

"Show-off!" Draco shouted at Blaise as the door closed behind him.

Blaise hurried down a myriad of stairs to make his way to the Malfoy library. He carefully opened the large oak door and was greeted by the sight of Hermione curled up in a green armchair reading Die Unaussprechlichen Kulten.

To him she made a very appealing sight. The way she was sitting suggested she was lost in her own world, her eyes single-mindedly devouring the book as though it were her only sustenance. The light from the hearth in front of her lit her with a flattering warm light and Blaise smiled as she occasionally sketched things out in the air with her finger or frowned and bit her lower lip in concentration. Then suddenly she looked up, searching for something in the dark. Blaise cursed as he realised the scrape of the library door must have alerted her, and stood quietly in the darkness, hoping she would go back to reading. Hermione's head swept the room once more, then returned to her book. Blaise sighed in relief, then moved closer to get a better look.

Blaise padded quietly to stand behind her armchair. He was so close to her now, standing only a few metres away and slightly to the left, next to a side table and a bookshelf. He was entranced by her look of concentration as she traced a cult sigil in the air with her finger.

He stepped forward to talk to her, touch her, maybe even kiss her. But as he did so his sleeve caught on a solid silver candlestick sitting on the side table and his eyes widened in horror as the lit candle toppled towards a first edition copy of Johannes Trithemius' Steganographia.

Blaise grabbed the candle, swearing as the hot wax dripped onto his fingers and along the table and he hastily pulled the candlestick away from the book and towards him. He drew his wand and extinguished it nonverbally, hurriedly placing the candle back where he found it and creeping away, making his escape through the door which was still part open.

Hermione's head jerked around, searching for the source of the disturbance but Blaise was long gone. She stood, the book lying forgotten on the side table and turned to look at the candle, which had gone out. She stepped closer to the extinguished candle, examining it carefully. She narrowed her eyes, then swept out of the room with a determined look on her face.

Blaise paced in his room. Everything he should have said and done swirled within his head as he concluded that he had ruined his chance to talk to Hermione. He stopped pacing and sat on his bed, holding his head in his hands and trying to block the thoughts in his head, concentrating on settling his breathing.

Suddenly, there was a creak and his door slid open smoothly. It was Hermione, still in her royal blue Cluedo robes, standing hesitantly at the door. Blaise's breath hitched, all thoughts of breathing disappearing from his head.

She smiled weakly and took a few unsteady steps into Blaise's room. "I suspect it was Professor Plum in the library with the candlestick."

"So what if it was?" Blaise raised a sardonic eyebrow, his expression carefully blank while internally, he cringed at his reaction.

Hermione swallowed nervously, knowing it was now or never. "Would you like to make it Mrs Peacock in the bedroom with the Professor?"

The silence stretched between them, a barrier formed of their respective insecurities. Hermione began to sweat and self doubt choked her throat. "I...I... I should probably go," she said, turning awkwardly.

Blaise swiftly got up from his seat on his bed and took three swift steps to stand in front of the wooden door, blocking her exit.

"No," he said and that one word was enough. He kissed her fiercely, his arms pinning her to him as he released the control he kept over his passions. Hermione relaxed, her mind on nothing but Blaise's soft lips on hers. She kissed him back with equal fervour, her hands moving to pull him closer. Then just as abruptly, the pressure of his arms lessened and Blaise's mouth detached itself from hers. It travelled to her ear instead, his tongue flicking out to trace it.

"That was a terrible pick up line Granger," he whispered, his smile evident in his voice.

"Your response was even worse," Hermione retorted lightly. "Besides, it worked didn't it?"

"Mmmm," Blaise said as his arms again tightened their grip on Hermione. "Though I wonder how you managed to figure out it was me."

"Simple," Hermione said, her smile turning smug. "The patterns of the candle wax showed that someone had made sure it didn't topple towards the books. It had the telltale signs of being extinguished by magic, yet I didn't hear anyone casting. You're the best non-verbal spellcaster I know, probably because you hardly talk anyway. Draco doesn't care enough about his books to risk his clothes catching fire. Therefore it had to be you."

"Show-off," Blaise murmured.

Hermione's grin broadened. "Elementary, my dear Zabini, Elementary."

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