A/N: I'm so stoked that so many of you are so interested in this fic. I can't wait to see your reaction to this chapter. Much love! xx-Kitten
Bewitch, Ensnare
By Kittenshift17
Chapter Three
"What are you doing awake at this hour, beautiful?" he asked her softly. Hermione sighed, relaxing when she recognised his voice.
Draco.
For a heart-stopping moment, she'd thought it was Snape. He must've come home with Harry, or snuck around after the party. Her flatmate was often prone to bringing his boyfriend home with him. It was one the reasons she knew about them at all and why they trusted her so much. The media had no idea, of course. They believed Harry lived in Godric's Hollow. He didn't. He owned a property there, and sometimes he used it, but most of the time he shared her cramped London flat with her.
"Nightmare," Hermione whispered, closing her eyes and leaning against the kitchen counter. Draco leaned against her back, his long, clever fingers teasing the muscles in the back of her neck and easing the kink there.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he murmured. Wandlessly he levitated the kettle and poured a fresh pot of tea, intent on sharing it with her.
"I… not really," Hermione said.
She smiled at the feel of Draco leaning against her. Dressed in only her bed-short and a tank top, she could feel that he hadn't bothered to don a shirt when he'd climbed out of bed.
"I didn't mean to wake you," she offered an apology.
"I was awake. Potter's wretched owl snores. And I heard you scream."
Scream? Had she? She hadn't been having the type of nightmare that caused her to scream.
"In your nightmare?" she asked shrewdly, having learned over the past year and half that he'd been dating Harry, that Draco Malfoy was an extremely private person who kept his cards close to his chest.
"You really are too smart for your own good, you know?" he told her, still rubbing her neck. He had magic fingers when he did that.
"It comes in handy. Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione offered.
"Do I ever?" he replied.
Hermione snorted. No, he didn't. He hated sharing unless the words were dragged out of him like pulling troll teeth. Stubborn git.
"What's got you having nightmares, anyway? You haven't in a while, to my knowledge," he asked, changing the subject when she didn't push him to share.
Hermione sighed softly.
"I thought I saw someone at the gala tonight I hadn't seen in a long time. It's playing on my mind and I was still thinking about it when I went to bed."
"Oh? Anyone I know?"
Hermione smiled.
"You know them. I'm not going to tell you who it was though. I'm sure it was just a trick of the light and my own imagination running away with me."
"Your imagination is filled with worry about something else, too. I saw you clutching your stomach when I walked out here and I know it's the wrong time of the month for you to be in pain."
Merlin curse observant Slytherin men.
"Harry floated an idea into my mind," Hermione offered before groaning softly when he hit upon a knot in her neck and worked it mercilessly.
"Bastard has no tact," Draco muttered.
"He was very tactful, actually. I'm honoured to have been asked."
"Honoured?" Draco scoffed. "You seem terrified."
Hermione smiled to herself in the dark when her teacup bumped her nose, levitated by him as he kept massaging her neck.
"I told you I don't scare that easily, Draco." Hermione told him. "I'm not afraid at the idea of being asked to bear you and Harry an heir each."
"Then what are you afraid of?" he murmured. "You're never this tense. Not even when your Masters ride you at the Ministry about outdoing the other apprentices. Are you worried you'll agree and then have to explain the awkwardness of having two children, out of wedlock, to a pair of wizards who are shagging each other?"
"Well, I hadn't thought that far ahead, but I imagine it would make future relationships awkward."
"Not if you joined ours," Draco said.
Hermione turned to look over her shoulder at him, seeing only by the light of the Tenebris Sanctus hanging around her throat.
"Is that what the two of you really want?" she asked. "Neither of your actually fancy me enough that you've tried talking me out of my knickers before. You're entirely wrapped up in each other. You don't need me complicating things."
"Actually, I don't think you would complicate things, Granger," he told her, his grey eyes darting between both of hers. "I knew a long time ago, before ever entertaining the idea that Potter might fancy me back, that you and him were a package deal. Circe, for a while I convinced myself that it was you I was mad for and that Potter was just an intriguing distraction to argue with. Honestly, for a bit there I figured if I ever wanted a shot with Potter or with you, the two of you were a package deal. Hell, I had nightmares thinking you lot would also come with an inconvenient side of Weaselbee."
"Exactly how long have you fancied Harry?" Hermione asked him curiously.
"Hard to say," he evaded. "Too long, probably. Longer than I should've, what with my father breathing down my neck to be the perfect little pureblood. I first thought I had a thing for you in fourth year."
"The Yule Ball?" Hermione asked.
"You looked like a girl for the first time instead of a bloody goblin."
"Goblin? Really? This is how you try to convince me to date you and Harry?"
"Leave off, I might have a silver tongue but you and Saint Potter both prefer it when I straight talk. The point is, I made room for the idea of entertaining the two of you - don't get me started on Weaselbee; that was too much to come at, even for me - a long time ago. You and Harry have always been a package deal. I admit that I still get jealous at times when the two of you share an inside joke or simply revel in each other's company because you've been together so long."
"Wouldn't including me in your relationship make you feel like a third wheel with your own boyfriend?" Hermione asked.
Draco laughed.
"Witch, you're already included in our relationship. We snog you to get away with hiding that we're hot for each other. You bloody live here with Potter and don't care, at all, that most days I live here too. The only reason you haven't been invited into bed with us is because you've got a big 'Fuck Off' stamped on your forehead and never seem to take an interest in anyone. Thought you might be into girls, for a while, but you don't date them either."
Hermione sighed, looking down at her teacup to know he'd noticed her propensity to avoid men as diligently as she could outside of being seen with this one or that one at an event for the sake of not turning up alone.
"Hey," Draco murmured, stepping around her to lean against the counter and lifting her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "What's the deal, Granger? I know you've have a bad string of escorts to the fancy functions, but I wasn't kidding about you being in this thing with us and about the idea of inviting you in to play with us. Potter suggests it whenever you look particularly depressed and I admit, I've been caught ogling your tits more than once. If you're not into either of us fine, but tell me why. Who are you into?"
"Now who sees too much for his own good?" Hermione asked lightly.
"I make it my business to keep very much up to speed with your comings and goings," he agreed. "Potter's happiness hinges on you. Not me. Not Weasley. Not his Godson. On you. If he lost you, he'd quit life."
"Don't be ridiculous, Draco. He loves you. I know he and Ron have their issues these days, but he adores you."
Draco smirked at the assurance.
"He does. How could he not? I'm Draco Malfoy."
Hermione felt a smirk of her own tug at the corners of her mouth. He always played up his arrogance when people discussed their feelings for him, secretly battling his own self-esteem issues after a lifetime of heteronormative conditioning.
"You are. Isn't he lucky to have you?" she chuckled, leaning over slightly to press an affectionate kiss to his bare shoulder.
"I'm the lucky one," Draco muttered. "But we're talking about you. I know you haven't lit up about any bloke since you broke things off with Weasley. Did he truly mean that much to you?"
Hermione laid her head on his shoulder, unable to hold his gaze, knowing he was a Legilimens and not above using it on her if she tried to be evasive.
"Not like that," Hermione shook her head. "Ron and I were never right for each other. We never would've amounted to anything, even if he hadn't strayed. We're too different. He's all about Quidditch, food, fame and fortune. We never had anything to say to one another when we didn't have a Dark Lord to fight or homework to focus on. I relate better to you than I ever did to Ron."
"Of course you do, I have more than two brain cells to rub together and I don't think exclusively with my dick unless Potter's naked in my general vicinity," he smirked. "So if it wasn't Weasley, who wrecked your heart, little witch?"
Hermione smiled against his shoulder.
"You really are too observant. Who said my heart had anything to do with it?"
"I did," he replied. "You don't trust men, other than Harry. Not even me, much. At first I thought that was just a reaction to Weaselbee's unfortunate habit of cuckolding you, but it's not. I don't think he ever had your heart."
Hermione shrugged.
"I fancied him a fair bit," she admitted. "From fifth year onwards."
"Fancied him, maybe. But you didn't love him. You're too clever to offer fresh meat to a snapping dog. When he dated Brown to toy with you in sixth year, you learned not to trust him with something so precious," Draco mused. Hermione shivered when he twisted her body around until she was leaning against his chest, her ear detecting the steady beat of his heart. His hands slipped subconsciously under the hem of her shirt to traces patterns against the small of her back.
"The only other bloke I've seen you have any kind of connection to is Potter. And for a bit I thought maybe you were hurt that he fancies the pants off me, but you never give either of us a sour-grapes look, so it's not Potter who wrecked your heart, either."
"Who said it had to be about my heart?" she repeated. "Why can't we just say that I don't trust straight men and that I've little interest in dating one?"
"I'd believe that if you were doing more than considering the idea of shagging me and Harry to give us kids. We've both admitted to fancying you and obviously we fancy each other. Most witches would give their left tit for the chance to be in a triad, especially with two of the most eligible and richest wizards in our world right now. But you're just mulling it over and worrying about the pregnancy part. So if you don't fancy us, who do you fancy?"
"Does it matter?" Hermione asked quietly. "He's made it abundantly clear that I am not to his tastes. I haven't even spoken to him in years."
"Granger?" Draco asked, his hand coming up to cup one of her cheeks and forcing her to meet his gaze. He searched her eyes and Hermione threw up her Occlumency shields
"You're much better at those than Potter," he complimented softly. "But not good enough. See, I've got another clue as to who might've been a little too rough with your heart."
"Oh?"
Draco smirked, his hand leaving her cheek the snag hold of the chain around her neck. He tugged it upwards to reveal the glowing orb of her Tenebris Sanctus.
"Do you know how many witches in the world still keep to the old ways enough to own one of these things?" he asked softly.
Hermione shook her head.
"About fifty," he said. "At least of those witches living. Now, keep in mind that I said own, not use."
"What are you getting at?"
"You have to know people who know people with very deep pockets or very old bloodlines to get one of these, Granger. They're barely legal. In fact, their production has been outlawed for almost a century and the only witches allowed to use them come from very powerful magical lines dating back generations. You've got to be a pureblood with dodgy connections to even get one made these days. You've got to be pretty crafty to get your hands on one, since most witches refuse to part with them, even those who don't use them. Hell, other than you, the only witches I've ever know who have them and use them are my mother, Aunt Andromeda and Aunt Bella."
Hermione's insides twisted at the mention of the last witch.
"So, you having one? Not exactly something that goes unnoticed by those of us in the know about such artefacts. And since you don't have a long and uninterrupted line of witches passing such things down, I'm going to say you got it from a wizard – probably to one you gave your virginity to. Am I right?"
Hermione nodded, clutching the orb in her hand once more and drawing a sense of comfort at its familiarity.
"Thought so. That narrows it down even more. The only way a wizard gets his hands on one of these is if he's terribly wretched and steals it from a witch, or if he inherits it as the last of his line when his mother dies with no female heiresses to pass it to. I happen to know of only one man's mother who would've had one and been too scared to use it. One whose mother is now deceased. Particularly one unlikely to have ever envisioned children for himself and thus needing someone to pass it on to."
Her heart stuttered inside her chest.
"You know, don't you?" Hermione whispered.
"I could take an educated guess," Draco confirmed. "Shall I? Or will you admit it for yourself?"
"I've never told anyone. No one knows. I don't even let this be seen very often because I know they're rare and I know how powerful they can be in the wrong hands," Hermione admitted.
"Two people know. You and your lover. And now me."
"Do you really know, or are you guessing?" Hermione asked. Draco's arms tightened around her and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, expressing in the dark a level of affection he was never comfortable with during daylight hours.
"I do believe that I'd very much like to hear the story of how you seduced Severus Snape into bed with you, Granger," Draco whispered against her temple.
