I thank you endlessly for your reviews and for keeping up with my sloppy publication dates. I will definitely try to be faster next time.
Hope you'll like this chapter, we're slowly getting to my favorite one… Bear with me!
Don't forget a review is what make an author happy, and even if I'm only the translator here, it definitely gets me motivated!
Thank you Gia & Dramionelives for your reviews, I'm really glad you like it! Hope you'll like this one as much as I enjoyed translating it! And yess, haha, too bad you can't speak French – but it'd be my pleasure to teach you some ;)
Without further ado.
Chapter 4
Rush Minute – Massive Attack ~
The moment 6:59 am turned 7am on Hermione's smartphone's screen, it started vibrating crazily on the bed night table. The young girl mumbled in her sleep and placed the blanket on her head, vainly trying to forget that she almost had to wake up at dawn today. However, the strident and increasing alarm sound did not give her any choice left and, her soul about to die, the teenager started groping blindly behind her, searching for her mobile phone. She got her answer when she heard it fall on the ground with a smack. After yawning to the point her jaw almost dislocated itself, the brunette stood up in her bed and scrubbed her sleepy eyes with her fists. She stood idle for a long moment, her vitreous and sleeping eye pupils immobilized on the window.
Sunlight was slowly showing itself, lighting up the room with an early morning light through the slightly opened blinds. Hermione laid one feet down than the other. And when she remembered today's schedule, her slightly chapped lips twisted into the beginning of a smile.
She was going to be Lucius Malfoy's assistant, today. Following him in his moves, observing him while working, analyzing his working methods... Bloody hell, only by thinking about it, she already was overwhelmed. In fact, she did not have any single envy left to go back to sleep.
The bathroom was huge. There was a shower cabin, as well as an outdated bathtub, and the rectangular mirror on the whole was looking alike those in the mall's toilets. False chandeliers working with light bulbs were lighting up the room and, just like the entry hall, the ground was made of mosaic. Under her own glare, Hermione got rid of her pajama and took a shower, using the perfumed and expensive soap held at her disposition. She then dried herself in one of the many fluffy towels in the cupboard, with the Malefoy's name sewn in golden letters on one side, before putting on her chosen outfits for the day. Red tiled printed cotton shirt, black skirt, tights, high socks and Docs. Always Docs. Even Ginny had enough of her always and exclusively wearing these shoes.
Helping herself with the gigantic mirror, Hermione tied her hairs in the most disorganized way ever, some curly highlights escaping here and there in complete freedom. She then applied a little kohl, accompanied it with a mastered stroke of eyeliner, then slid mechanically her sleeves up. And there she was ready.
Leaving the guest room, the brunette stopped briefly and bent by the floor's railing. All the house seemed to be sleeping peacefully and there was no light turned on. Hermione nervously bit her thumb's nail. Well. Maybe Lucius was waiting for her in the dining room. It was 7:45 am after all, and he said they would be leaving around 8.
Going down the stairs with small steps, the high school girl arrived in the entry hall and slid her head through the slightly open door of the living room. Sitting in the biggest velvet sofa of the room, legs crossed, Lucius Malfoy was pensively drinking his coffee cup, his hand playing with the head of his famous silver cane. Feeling a glare on him, he slowly lifted his head up and saw his guest.
"Ah! I was waiting for you." he told her. "Are you ready?"
Hermione nodded. Lucius finished in one gulp his remaining black coffee before laying down the porcelain cup on the glass coffee table.
"Well then let's go!" he declared while standing up.
Hermione slightly raised one eyebrow. She didn't even had time to take some breakfast? Even though the high school girl was not really hungry in the mornings, she always obligated herself to eat something to at least last the morning. Well, seemed like she won't have the opportunity to so this time. Lucius was already walking with a determined step towards the door. He stopped before her and pointed her bare neck with one of his finger.
"You're not bringing anything to take pictures?"
"Oh, yes. Of course. I'm going to get it."
The brunette turned her heels to climb up the stairs four by four and take her things. In her hurry, she forgot she was sleeping at the second floor and headed to the one above. Finding herself in the corridor of the third floor, she opened brutally the first door, thinking she would get access to her room. And definitely not Draco's.
However, here was the blond, in bones and flesh, laying in underwear on the big bed near the window, looking completely asleep.
The surprise gone, Hermione still couldn't move an inch nor lose Malfoy of her sight. The latter was sleeping in a semi-fetal position, one leg stretched out and an arm held in the back, the other bended against his pillow. It really was that surprising to see his face relaxed, free of any hatred or disgust, that Hermione regretted not having her camera on her to immortalize this moment.
Suddenly, Draco had a nosier breathing, as if he was escaping his dream, and his leg moved slightly. And, as he changed his position on the sofa, the high school girl hurried to close the door behind her, fearing he would find her here.
"Is everything alright?" asked Lucius when she came back.
Hermione nodded, Draco's sleepy head not leaving her brain.
There was something intensely frustrating in the fact of knowing we just passed by a golden picture. If only she would have had something to capture what she just saw, it would have given something fantastic. Hermione could already see the way she would have taken the picture. The way she would have played with the few sunlight shining through the blinds. The inclination she would have gave to her camera for the picture to provide the exact result she expected. To have missed this opportunity left her with a bitter taste.
However, the perspective of staying at the side of one of the most reckoned photographer of all Great Britain for the whole day was able to comfort her. Slightly.
"Did you start the project?" asked Lucius while they were heading down the Manor's alley.
"Yes. I already took some photos." nodded Hermione.
"How many?"
"About twenty."
Lucius nodded, seeming satisfied. They arrived to a black Mercedes with opaque windows, and the brunette felt like she was on another planet when she saw a butler with white gloves opening the doors for them. She slid on the beige leather seat and inspected the inside of the luxurious car discreetly. Bloody hell, was it only photography that was giving this man and his family such a great and comfortable life style? The photographer's voice pulled her out of her contemplation.
"The house pleases you? Do you discover great things?" he asked then, and by the mocking sparkle in his grey eyes, Hermione knew immediately that he was talking about the little exploration she did the day before.
"Well..." she started before clearing her throat, embarrassed. "It was alright. However, I'll try and be less curious from now on." she added, nervously wedging her hands under her thighs.
"Oh, no! Definitely don't be shy about this" said Lucius. "Search as much as you want to, if that can help you to succeed in finishing this album."
Hermione frowned her eyebrows, more than surprises. Wasn't it disturbing him more than this little that a complete unknown one started putting her nose in his personnel stuff and life only to take a few photos?
"And if I fall on… things I shouldn't see?"
"Such as?"
There, the teenager held against herself an intense battle. Should she say, yes or no, if she was up to date about the miscarriage Narcissa lived? How was he going to react? Will he encourage her or, in the contrary, insult her of being a weasel who went too far in her research? Maybe was he even going to pursue her in justice for intrusion into private life…?
"I can hear you think from over here." His neighbor of seat interrupted her train of thoughts, its same mocking smile on the lips.
"Yes, I, err…" jumped a little Hermione. "In fact, I have to admit that I really find it surprising that you are so… that you made me, a complete unknown girl, enter your private circle, as some people could find this intrusion a little…"
"Do you want to quit this project?" he interrupted her.
"No! Not at all! Not at all. » she answered quickly. "It's only that I find it a little strange… and that it doesn't seem to please your son at all."
Lucius's face turned cold so quickly the brunette got afraid she said something she should not have.
"The day something will please that one, I'd be glad to be alive and see it." He shrugged negligently and turned towards Hermione. "Did he reiterated his threats?"
"No."
"If he does, tell me immediately. I'll go myself drop a deposition."
Hermione nodded slowly. In her mind was still floating Draco's sleepy and unstressed face, his pillow against him. Near it, the word "deposition" was written in capital letters, aggressing her. The two of them did not mingle greatly.
They arrived at destination less than ten minutes later and, once again, Hermione saw herself being held the door. Moreover, when they walked through the hall building, people would step aside to let them walk, some "hello Mr. Malfoy" were said from everywhere, accompanied by a polite nod. Seemed like an ambassador was back from a very important mission.
"Did you use the dark room I left at your disposition to print out your photographs?" he asked her as they were in the lift Hermione had taken a few days earlier.
"Not yet." answered the amateur photographer. "I thought I'd start tonight."
Lucius dropped a side-glare towards her.
"Assure me… You do know how to print out your photos yourself, don't you?"
"Of course!"
"Very well." Nodded Lucius – and it was all for the few remaining seconds of their ride.
When they ended up at the last floor, Hermione could see herself back on this day, walking anxiously through this same corridor, her eyes looking at everything that was around her. And, three days and a half later, there was she walking through it once again in the company of the same one she was so afraid of meeting. What an irony.
"Hello Lucius." welcomed the secretary with high heels that had received Hermione the last day.
"Natasha." saluted his boss as she stood up, coming towards them.
The so-named Natasha took off his coat and his cane without looking once at the teenager accompanying him. Walking before them in the corridor, she recapitulated to Lucius all about the calls she received and whatever important information as Hermione followed them, playing with her Nikon. Once they entered the desk room, the secretary dropped the coat she was holding on a hanger and the cane in the umbrella holder. She then turned towards her boss.
"Do you need anything else?"
"Not for now." answered Lucius while heading for his rolling black leather chair. "Thank you Natasha."
The hostess lowered her head a little then walked towards the door. There, she finally looked upon Hermione. And it was not a friendly glare, no. It was more likely the stare of a dog ready to bite.
Draco shook his lighter then activated him at least fifteen times before he could get a decent flame to light up his cigarette. He then stepped one foot outside of his bed and observed the image of a thug with disorganized blond hair and a cigarette in the mouth that his mirror made him see. His bruise was still visible on his eye, though a little less ugly than it was yesterday. And his skin was still as pale; nothing had changed on this side.
Once arrived to his last puff, the teenager crushed the cigarette end in the ashtray on his bed night table then flabbily got out of his bed. One glance at the alarm clock informed him it was almost eleven thirty in the morning. Another glance at his phone's screen told him that Astoria had again harassed him with messages. The blond took his jogging pants which he dressed into quickly, added to a t-shirt that was untied at the foot of his bed, then got out of his room.
His feet led him to the dining room where his mother was, sitting in a peignoir with a mug full of fuming coffee, a lighted cigarette in her hand, enormous sunglasses covering her eyes. As she always did, she was reading a fashion magazine and was rejecting the tobacco's smoke on the glassy pages of the catalogue.
Draco pulled a chair in front of his mother and sat down. He laid his elbows on the table and held his hands together, a concerned expression on the face.
"Are you alright?" he ended up asking after a long minute of observation.
Narcissa gave him a brief glance behind her dyed glass then huffed a nicotine cloud by the nose.
"Why would something not be alright?" she answered coldly while turning the page.
"I'm only asking."
"Well don't."
"Oh, alright." said Draco, sarcastic. "I'll also avoid treating you next time you decide to beat the mirror until you cut your own fingers – just like you did yesterday morning. It really was some great fun to pull of every chunks of glass that were crusted in your flesh, I loved it. Really. And, above all, don't thanks me, it was nothing, after all."
His mother lifted her head towards him while lifting her cigarette to her lips. She had painted her fingernails red.
"I absolutely don't see what you're talking about." she declared, raising her eyebrows as if he was going crazy.
Draco bit his tongue hardly. It was always like this with his mother. She did some fucking big crap then deflected herself from any help that anyone would try giving her or simply played the amnesic one. The teenager at least from where he held his pride. He still couldn't resist confronting her with reality.
"And that, what is it?" he hissed as he took one of his hands to reveal the skin studded with red streaks. "Some little cute tattoos? Uh? You still don't see what I'm talking about? Look at you, bloody hell, mom! You're not going to tell me that this little beautiful scars are some pen's stroke? You're not going to tell me I am the liar here?"
Narcissa took her wrist back in a brusque motion, almost violent, and pointed him with her index.
"Don't you talk to me that way." she warned him in a low but threatening voice. "And I still don't understand a thing to your nonsense talk so, one advice: continue to see your therapist. I believe it's the only remaining option for you."
At this stage, Draco did not know if he should laugh or cry. He only watched her leave the place, incapable of doing anything, then held his head with his hands long enough to decide that he should leave this house immediately if he didn't want his brain to explode. Blaise's flat instantaneously seemed like the evident loophole in his mind. Even more when the Afro-British did not ask him anything when he saw his dreadful face as he opened the door to him. He never questioned him, anyway. They simply sat in front of Zabini's television, each with their remote in hands, and they started killing off enemies on the screen.
"Ok. Bend forward, now."
The model under the bright spots did as she was told and bent towards the camera Lucius was holding. The latter strafed her with his digital camera while stooping down as he clicked for the angle to be more and more in a low angle.
"Be more aggressive. Show me your fangs." he told her while photographing her. "I want some black dark stare, provocative… yes, there, like this. The posture too. The back, stooped… perfect. Don't move."
Leaned against the window, Hermione was admiring what she saw.
Looking at Lucius Malfoy working was, from far, one of the most passionate things she ever assisted to. Each of his movements were thorough, precise. His indications were too. And he didn't leave anything to hazard, be it from the camera's choice to the spots' adjustment or even the haircut of the model he was photographing. Her curly hair looking savage were in fact disciplined exactly as Lucius asked the stylist to, and it was the same for the chipped nail polish on her nails that took at least a quarter of an hour to prepare. No details were left on the side.
Lucius was actually photographing some twenty shooting pages that were going to figure in a renowned polish art magazine. The latter was going to regroup series of photos taken by the biggest photographer of the entire world depending on the chosen theme. Lucius had chosen decadency. For the professional of the 8th art that he was, such commands were common. We rang him from there to cover some important events, then from here to immortalize a royal family dinner while the renowned fashion catalogue were calling him nonstop to gain his services. If we added to that the fact that he held an agency producing most of the promising amateurs' photographer… Hermione started to understand how he was able to construct such a big fortune.
However, she kept her main objective in mind; photographing Lucius Malfoy in motion. Still, taking a picture of him while he was doing the work for which everyone knew him… Hermione found that a little unoriginal. Even more when all we had to do was type "Lucius Malfoy" on Google Images to find snaps of the photographer bent in front of a model, his camera in hands. No. She wanted to picture him with a new angle, with something still untouched. And for that, she was patient.
"It's not working." shouted angrily the forty-year old man while straightening.
He snapped his finger to one of his assistants but they all turned towards him at the same time.
"The background, who moved it?" he asked while pointing the psychedelic motif that was used as a background. "It was placed in a way that the circle were suiting Freia's shape!" he explained, naming the model. "Who moved it?"
There was a panicked brouhaha and Lucius massaged the bridge of his nose, seeming at the tips of his nerves.
"Do you realize I spoiled almost half a pellicle photographing with a wrong background?"
"You want us to put it back in place?" then asked a redhead with yellow glasses.
"Fuck, do I even need to ask you?" he snapped.
The little mass dispersed and they were almost ten trying to fix up the big rectangle.
"And while you're at it, bend slightly to the ground the spot on the right… on the right, bloody hell, don't you know your right from your left? A little lower… stop… Stop!" He shook his head. "What have I done to end up with such useless ones? … Okay, okay, pause everyone. I've had enough."
He laid down his camera on a table where different calibers were at disposition and began opening a bottle of sparkling water as his secretary appeared.
On the stage, Freia was typing on her phone while vulgarly chewing her gum. She looked nothing like the artistic muse Lucius was photographing seconds ago. Her legs were so thin they could break and her arms were as slim as matches, and let's not talk about her prominent collarbones. Hermione realized she probably was the same age as her, maybe even less. Feeling the teenager's glare on her, Freia lifted her head up abruptly, her perfect coppery hair falling all around her emaciated face.
"What?" she barked.
Hermione raised her eyebrows. Her eyes observed from hair to toes this little skeletal woman then went back to her face. They finally interested themselves to something that was more worth it.
Lucius, for example.
The latter was still drinking in his bottle as Natasha was explaining something to him. However, the secretary looked rather… relaxed. Leaning on the table, arms crossed, she was speaking to his boss as we would speak to an old friend. And, when Lucius dropped the almost empty bottle down, she had a little smile while collecting the few drops that were left shining on the side of his mouth. The photographer's lips incurved in a smile and he stood imperceptibly closer to her as he told her something that made her laugh the second later.
And it was as if Hermione's hands were working without the approval of her brain. In less than a second, her camera was in front of her eyes and she was strafing them at a distance, collecting the moment in the small circle of her camera lens. And everything was there. Lucius and his rare smile. Natasha and her finger on Lucius' face, Lucius' eyes sliding little by little towards Natasha's neckline, the luscious and tempting smile of Natasha for Lucius. Everything was on pellicle and in more than ten samples.
When she lowered her camera, the office assistant was heading back outside the room and Lucius was now walking towards her. As he approached her, a little melody was ringing through Hermione's ear, the lyrics' volume being nosier each seconds. "… He is cheating on Narcissa with his assistant, he is cheating on Narcissa with his assistant, He Is Cheating On Narcissa With His Assistant, HE IS CHEATING ON NARCISSA WITH HIS ASSISTANT." It was as if each day of this journey led her to discover a terrible secret about each protagonist of this family. Hermione really hoped it would be all for today.
"Do you find contents to satisfy your photographic curiosity?" he asked her.
"Yes, it's… very enriching, I have to admit." answered Hermione, nodding too many times to be natural – the mantra "he is cheating on Narcissa with his assistant" still echoing in her mind.
"It's not the best shooting I did. The one for Citizen K, next week, will probably be more interesting. And professional."
"Seemed rather pro to me."
"With a staff like this one?" mocked Lucius – and there the brunette could almost hear the same ironic intonation that rang through Draco's voice each time he was talking to her. "My personal staff is in holidays so I have no other choice but to suffer from the assistance of these ones. Even you could be more competent."
Hermione could not really tell how she was supposed to take that but she didn't have the time to question herself more as Lucius was already continuing:
"We only have another hour left. Then, I'll go develop all of this in my photo lab. I'll take this opportunity to show you how to do it."
"But I perfectly know…"
"I'm still going to show you. I don't want the final snaps of this project to be botched."
And before she could protest a second time, here he was already slapping his hands together to end up the pause and taking back up his camera. The staff went into motion again, each one going back to his function. Freia took the chewing gum off her mouth, glued it negligently on the wall before heading back to the stage with slow steps. Hermione looked at her doing so while telling herself that we could almost hear her bones clash between them.
Poor girl.
As six in the afternoon was about to ring, Draco ended up doing a nap on Blaise's bed while the latter was watching what seemed to be an erotic movie and eating Pringles. There was only Zabini to eat chips while watching some porn. And there was only Malfoy to actually fall asleep in front of some.
The sound of a door opened abruptly pulled him out of his sleep some forty minutes later and he was able to see the blurred silhouette of Imane Zabini at the entrance of the room. The blond rubbed his eyes, yawning, then stood up a little, catching up with the conversation the single mother was having with her son.
"… left lasagna in the oven, if you want some, serve yourself. However, the microwave screws up after ten minutes but, well, I doubt you need your lasagna to be burned to eat them. Don't touch the wine bottle, I'm keeping it for tomorrow evening. And, please, tidy up your room. It seems like we're entering a dustcart."
"Where are you going?" was the only answer Blaise gave her as he scanned the purple tight dress and the stilettos with red sole she was wearing.
"I'm going out a little. Janice is throwing a party at hers. I'll maybe be back home tomorrow morning, by the way, so don't wait for me." She turned on the side and finally saw Malfoy. "Hey, good evening Draco. How are you?"
The blond shrugged.
"Alright."
"Hun-hun. And Cissy?" she asked, referring to her ex-colleague on stage.
"Going crazy."
"That happens." answered Imane with a faraway voice, which shows that she only asked these questions by pure politeness. "Well, my boys, I'm leaving, my taxi shouldn't be too long now. Do not fire up the house. And Blaise, for heaven's sake, remove your sneakers from the entry hall. If I bring a guest home, I don't want him to think I'm someone messy."
"A guest." repeated Blaise, sarcastic, but his mother did as if he said nothing.
"Ciao ciao!" she cried out, shaking her well-manicured hand.
And she went off, the regular clicking of her heels stomping the ground at each of her steps. Draco's glare left the door to end up on Blaise and he saw an indecipherable expression on his face. The same expression that had preceded the punch he gave a small boy in primary school because he laughed at him for not having a father. And each time, Draco wanted to shake him up and say: "Come on, Blaise, tell me what you're thinking. Talk to me, bloody hell, don't stay in your fucking silence." But he never talked. Even worse: he hid his emotion, burying them deep inside himself, and feigned normality.
"You missed a lot of things." he then said and Draco took some time to realize he was speaking about the adult movie that was still playing on the Mac's screen – how could Imane not see that by the way? Mystery.
Or maybe she didn't give a fuck, simply.
"Oh yeah?" answered Draco while getting up. "Didn't seem really interesting any way."
"You're wrong. You remember the plumber? Well, in fact – brace yourself, yeah, because I'm sure you did not see that coming – well he was not a real plumber. It was only a kind of stripper with the option inflatable pecs and a really big anaconda between the legs."
He turned towards his mate and saw him looking at him silently, as if thinking deeply. Blaise rolled his eyes as he took one chip.
"Dude, at least act as if you were in it. It was big art there! The suspense was totally at its sum…"
"Blaise, how does it feel growing up without your father?"
It was released on its own but Draco had been keeping this question for himself during so long that he felt relieved when he finally was able to pronounce it for the first time. However, seeing how a painful and ferocious expression grew up on the metis face, he knew that this impulsive act would not be without any consequences.
"I dunno, Draco. How does it feel growing up without your little sister?" he hissed back.
And that time, it was Malfoy who was left openmouthed.
First of all because of the tone Blaise had taken. Such a venomous and cold tone no one could have ever guess it would come from a man like him – usually so calm. And second, because of what he just said. Draco was far away from imagining that Zabini could one day use a secret he told him against him. Because, yes, Draco almost had a little sister. The Malfoy family almost got bigger six years ago. When he thought about it, it certainly was the happiest period he had ever lived.
However, overnight, this familial cheerfulness abruptly turned into hell.
It was almost six years ago but in Draco's memory, it all seemed like it happened yesterday. And now that Blaise threw it all again to his face in a single sentence, he felt like he was reliving live Narcissa's fall in the Manor's stairs, the blood, the emergency's arrival, his mother's shouts, the blood that remained on the steps, only morbid souvenir they had from the one they wanted to name Leonor, the Manor's silence. And the announcement. She's dead. A killing sentence pronounced by the cold, without feelings, voice of his faster. She's dead. There. Done. It was that simple, that cruel.
"… shouldn't have said that. It was stupid."
Blaise was talking to him for a minute. All his angriness had left his face and he was observing his best mate with an anxious and guilty expression, as if he just realized all the crap he had said. Draco stood up.
"You… where are you going?"
"Back home." answered with an absent-minded voice the blonde as he took back his coat.
"Dude, I shouldn't have said that. I don't know what has gotten into me. It's only that… I don't like talking about my father… It's a defense mechanism and… I'm sorry. I really shouldn't have."
"I'm going back home." repeated Draco, robotically, and that's what he did.
He went back under the rain, soaked from head to toes, his lungs and body frozen. When he saw the huge stairs in the hall, it was as if he could still see the blood's marks on the steps. And it was too much. Something broke inside him, once again, make him fall on the ground. And, collapsed on the mosaic ground of the Manor's entry, Draco cried out all the tears he thought were dried.
"Did this day please you?" asked Lucius as they were going out of the giant photo lab behind his office.
"It was perfect." answered honestly Hermione.
"Well I'm glad to hear so! I'll be in travel to the States tomorrow and the day after, but I'll arrange a day you could pass at the office before next week. Have you remembered everything I said about developing a photo?"
Hermione shook her notebook in the air.
"I wrote down everything."
Lucius nodded, satisfied, as he sat down in his leather chair.
"Well, I believe your immersion ends up now." he smiled. "I'm going to call you a taxi so you can go back to the Manor. I still have some things to finish here."
Hermione nodded, without being able to restrain herself from wondering what these things were. She quickly got her answer as Natasha entered the office, a few seconds later, one of the button of her blouse undone.
"You called me, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked.
"Yes, I would need someone to call a taxi for Miss Granger."
"Immediately, Mr. Malfoy."
"And come back here after that. I need… some helping hand."
The sentence: "he cheating on Narcissa with his assistant" made a big return in Hermione's mind. And her doubts became certitudes when Natasha gave his boss a knowing smile before conducting the high school girl in the floor's hall. She composed the taxi services' number quickly, almost got pissed when the standard took too long to answer and settled the case in less than thirty seconds before pointing the lift.
"You go downstairs, at the reception. The taxi driver will pick you there. Is that all?" she asked in a hurried tone.
"Yes. Go on, I certainly don't want to delay you."
Natasha didn't even have the shrewdness to raise what she implied; she already was almost running towards Lucius' office.
Back in the lift, the brunette leaned against the walls and made a mental recap of the day. In less than twelve hour, she had learned a lot of things on photography, its methods as well as on Lucius Malfoy. And what she learned about him left her perplex, even deceived about the one she held as a role model since secondary school. How could he cheat on Narcissa…? In Hermione's mind, they were a mythical couple, it not THE mythical couple. In the 90's, people would only talk and swear by them: Lucius and Narcissa, Narcissa and Lucius. Legends were saying that they were head over heels for one another.
What had happened?
Was it Natasha's arrival that destroyed everything? No… this assistant with her striper's allure did not have an ounce of Narcissa's charisma. Hermione could not believe that Lucius felt into her arms in a snap. There must have been an anterior breakdown in the married couple. There must have definitely something for Narcissa to be as unwell as she had seen her the morning before, when she was on the ground, hands full of blood.
Still in her thoughts, the brunette headed to the ground floor and kept on thinking when the taxi brought her back to the Manor under a terrible rain. The moment she left the car and went up the sandy aisle of the castle running, her camera under her shirt, Hermione decided she was first going to take a shower before exploring the house. As Lucius gave her free will to research the manor fully, it would be stupid not to profit of this, right? Maybe that exploration would even give her one answer to all her interrogations about the Malfoy couple.
The high school girl climbed the stairs four by four and quickly opened the entry door. Before stepping back with a horrified shout. On the ground, at a few steps from the stairs, was lying Draco's collapsing corpse.
Hermione stood still, not moving, petrified by shock. Then a shred of conscience took possession of her and she ran towards the teenager. Kneeling beside him, she placed her ear against his torso. His heart was still beating. Moreover, when she placed her hands on his cheeks, she could perceive a little warmth. These elements relieved her considerably – she really believed he was dead. Asshole or not asshole, she still couldn't wish for such a thing.
"Hey…hey!" tried to wake him up Hermione by shaking his shoulders. "Draco! Do you hear me? Draco!"
And he did. He moved slightly his head, tried to stand up but fell against Hermione's thighs to… cry? The high school girl remained openmouthed. She even bent slightly to be completely sure that it really were salted uncolored pearls going out of his eyes… bloody hell! Was it really the same arrogant thug that frightened her that was sobbing on her?
She could have laughed at his face and take her revenge. She could have. But she wasn't capable of that. She wasn't this type of person. To see someone in this state, whatever the reason was, always made her heart ache. So she let him get rid of his sorrow, with a heavy heart, his tears soaking her tights.
"Come on… it's all over, it's all over…" she whispered as she rubbed his cheeks with the back of her hands. "Come, I'm going to help you get up."
She helped him getting up, putting his arm around her neck, and they slowly climbed up the stairs until the third floor. And Draco was still crying. He looked so down it seemed he was in a second state. Hermione wouldn't have been surprised if he could not even remember her helping him. Arrived in the corridor of his apartments, the brunette helped the reeling teenager to walk to his room which was in complete obscurity. The blinds hadn't been opened since morning and the mattress was still undone.
"We're almost there…" she told him as they got closer to the bed.
She sat down and slowly took Draco's arm off for he could finally fall on the couch. She then pulled the blanket over him and kneeled on the ground so she could be at his face. When we looked closely, he seemed like a small kid whose sleep had won over sorrow. His sobbing were already spacing up a little. And, under Hermione's stare, he slowly fell asleep.
The high school girl recognized there the traits she had seen the same morning, as she looked at him sleeping without him knowing. It was as if we took away his mask of nastiness to leave only the purest and inoffensive part of him. Hermione then knew it was the time. Her fingers took her Nikon, zoomed on Draco's sleeping face and immortalized it.