The following is a fanfiction that I wrote by hand years ago. I found it in an old moleskine notebook, and decided I would post what I had written. After the support and inspiration I got from the FF community with Caught in His Net, I figured if there's anything to this story, you all could certainly help me find the inspiration to finish this tale. So please, be brutal, and give me your perceptions about what I've written so far.
Hermione had never seen him in street clothes before. He'd always been wearing the equally ugly Hogwarts uniforms. No one looked good in those. Still, from the shoulders up, he seemed to always look good. Now, Hermione watched him from across the crowded floor. It had been years since she'd seen him in Hogwarts robes. Neither of them had even gotten to graduate because of the war. Hermione went off to help Harry find the Horcruxes, and Draco had gone into hiding. And now, four years later, he was back in society.
She was working for the Order, for though Voldemort was gone, the threat of the Death Eaters was ever present. Harry and Ron were gone as well. Harry had gone to Romania to live a few years with Charlie and escape the publicity he'd gotten (both good and bad) after defeating the Dark Lord. Ron was married and living in Brazil, enjoying the fortune the three had received for bounty on Voldemort's head. They had an equal share in it, only because Harry refused to take credit for killing Voldemort.
Hermione realized her mind was wandering and tried to focus again. Draco, whom she'd been watching moments before, had disappeared.
"Damn," she muttered softly, not letting the fury show on her face. She was working for the Order, disguised as a wealthy heir to a Spanish throne. She had a glamour spell on to change her hair, skin tone and eye colour. In a matter of moments she'd gone from a freckled auburn haired woman to a raven haired beauty with dark eyes and milky skin.
She'd been sent to crash this Death Eater soiree. Her mission? Watch Draco Malfoy, and if she could, get close enough to get information. Hermione guessed Draco had inherited the property. And the job that went with it, she though.
Then again, she'd always, always expected he'd end up like this. What she didn't expect was the suave Greek God that she'd seen. Before, he'd been a slimy, foul boy who had 'git' etched into every feature. Now, he was clearly a man. His hair was a bit longer than she remembered. He didn't slick it back, and Hermione was slightly certain he'd worn it that way at one point of their time at Hogwarts, but it hadn't been comely then. Now it seemed to fit him. It was light and trimmed to fall in front of an eye occasionally. His face seemed more weathered, more adult, perhaps. But his eyes, they hadn't changed a bit. They threw a shiver down her spine when their eyes had connected earlier. Hermione remembered it and shivered slightly.
"Cold?" asked a smooth voice behind her. Hermione spun gracefully, but could not conceal her shock.
"Mister Malfoy," she said in greeting, remembering her Spanish accent. "Your party is muy elegante," she complimented.
"I'm glad to hear you are enjoying yourself. Which brings me to the point of my visit – you aren't."
"Aren't what, senor?" she asked nervously.
"Enjoying yourself," he replied with a shadow of the smirk Hermione remembered all too well. Like the time he had enlarged her teeth and Snape had refused to admit he'd done anything wrong. Hermione let her memory go, and focused on what he was saying.
"An heiress like yourself can't really be having fun in Malfoy Manor without me, now can you?" he went on, slipping a hand under her elbow.
Hermione looked as affronted as her character would allow, but let him lead her to a side chamber. The room was richly, yet simply furnished. An armchair and fainting couch were the only furniture besides a small table etched with tiny glass serpents.
Draco sat in the black armchair, where his Armani jacket blended in well.
Hermione quickly realized he expected her to use the fainting couch, an obviously chauvinistic idea. She guessed he had used the room with quote a few other female guests. The faux heiress decided to avoid this thought, as it made her queasy.
She sat on the fainting couch and reclined with her feet up. Her red dress spilled over the sides of the low couch where the slits began.
Draco snapped his fingers and a house elf appeared with two steaming cups of a red liquid that looked awfully like…
"Red cider," he said, interrupting her thoughts as if he'd read them. She drank a bit and her head spun for a moment, then settled.
Draco suddenly seemed very intent on watching her. She drank again to avoid speaking, and soon the cider glass was empty.
"So," he said suddenly, making her heart jump guiltily. "Who are you and why are you impersonating a woman who died two weeks ago?" he demanded.
Hermione choked on the last bit of cider. Veritaserum! She fainted dead away before the potion could force her to answer.
xxx
Draco eyed the girl's body suspiciously. He didn't know where they'd gotten this girl, but she certainly did look like Senorita Torres. If he hadn't watched her die, he would have believed it was her. She had the hair, the build, even the freckle on her lip.
"Wait…" muttered Draco. He whipped out his wand. "Ennervate." The girl's eyes opened groggily.
"Finite Incantatem" he said grimly. Hermione's eyes widened as they turned from black to a warm brown.
The Master of Malfoy Manor watched with growing anger. Who was this girl? He didn't recognize her. Her hair turned from black to a coffee brown. He watched as freckles blossomed across her cheeks. Her skin became darker, though he could tell she was still pale with fear. The transformation stopped, and Draco found himself standing over a brunette of about his age. She was fair as far as looks were concerned. Her eyes opened and Draco had a flash of insight. But then, it was gone, replaced by the feeling that he'd seen her before.
"Who are you?" he asked. She struggled to keep her mouth shut and merely shook her head. He could tell she was trying to fight the Veritaserum.
"What," he asked, "Did you take a will-strengthening potion or something?"
The look in her eyes was now arrogant instead of fearful as she nodded. He lifted his father's cane and struck her across the face with it. She fell off the couch, knocked out. Blood flowed freely from a cut just beneath her eye. He hoped she went blind.
Draco snapped and a house elf arrived. "Take her to the tower," commanded the man. "And lock her in." he turned and left the room to return to the party. He would deal with her later.
The house elf Arietta used her magic to lift the body and let it float before her to the tower. Arietta wondered what the beautiful girl had done to be sent to the Nightmare room.