DISCLAIMER: WE DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER... but it'd be boss if we did.
xaNicole & AngelForTonight: #4 is here! And this one was written with help from our friend, Jennifer, who will help us with the rest of the story and the (possible) sequel!
BOLD = PARSELTONGUE
Hermione woke up the next morning expecting to find Ginny in the bed next to her... but remembered that she was at Malfoy Manor.
What a change of scenery from yesterday.
She got up, still in the silk nightdress, and walked out of the massive guest room into the hall. She was going to explore.
She padded down the hall trying not to make too much noise. It was still pretty early, the sun was barely up and the house was dark except for the pale gray light of morning.
Hermione took a left and a right down two hallways and when she tried to turn back, she found a hall full of doors and she couldn't remember which she came out of.
She was lost.
She tried to find her way out but kept getting more and more lost. She finally decided to open a door to see who could help her. She walked to the nearest door, a door made of dark, expensive looking wood with a polished, gold handle, and opened it, revealing Draco Malfoy asleep in a king sized bed.
She stood there, watching him sleep when she accidentally leaned on the door, causing it to creak in protest. Malfoy began to stir at the sound and sat up slowly, his white blonde hair tousled from sleeping. He looked puzzled, got up and walked to her looking at her for a bit before the realization set in.
"Granger? What the bloody hell are you doing in my house?"
She noticed that he was wearing silk pajama pants. Only silk pajama pants. Apparently, he slept topless. Hermione's eyes traveled from his eyes, to his chiseled chest and his abdominal area, which he kept in shape. Very in shape.
Hermione couldn't help but blush as her eyes trailed lower and lower until Draco's voice caught her attention.
"Did you hear me?" he said, "What are you doing in my house?"
"It's a long story," she said, "I'm here to help raise the Dark Lord."
"You. You raise the Dark Lord?" he said, "You've got to be joking!"
"What? You don't think I can do it?"
"What kind of question is that, Granger? When we were in school, you were always the goodie two shoes. You still are! You're supposedly the brightest witch of our generation. I don't think you'll be able to raise the Dark Lord."
She was extremely pissed at him now. He doubted all of that.
"Voldemort's daughter could probably raise him," she spat, "You don't know anything about this!"
"I know that you can't help him. Sure, you're the brightest witch of our age… the Death Eaters are probably using you for your brains. Once he's risen, you're dead meat."
That really set her off. Before she knew it, she was levitating off the ground, her hair billowing around her face. Green flames erupted from the glowing marks on her hands.
"Believe me, now?" she said. She felt a burning sensation on her wrists. She dropped to the floor on her knees rubbing her wrists.
"Damn it!" she cried.
"What was that?" he asked, "What did you just say?"
"I asked if you believed me now."
"You asked it in another bloody language."
"What did it sound like?"
"Like some hissing noise."
I just spoke Parseltongue, Hermione thought to herself.
"It's inherited," she said, "Parseltongue."
"You're kidding! Only descendants of Salazar Slytherin are Parselmouths."
"I told you," she said, gesturing to herself, "Dark Lord's daughter."
"That's not possible… I didn't even know he was married!"
"He's not! I don't know about any of that, actually."
"So, I know why you're here in this house… now why are you looking inside my room?"
"If you must know, Malfoy, I got lost… and I need to find my way back to the room so I can change."
"Excuse me, Miss Granger, but what are you doing out so early?"
she turned around to see Lucius Malfoy standing in the hallway.
"I got lost, if you must know."
"Well, I'd like to inform you that the Dark Lord would like you downstairs in about an hour."
"Yeah, if I can even find downstairs."
"I wouldn't sass me if I were you," he said, "I could tell your father and who knows how he would punish you after you raise him like your prophecy says."
"Who told you about that?" she cried, "Nobody knows about that! You're not supposed to know!"
"Well… I happen to know quite a bit about your prophecy."
"Screw you, twat." I spat in Parseltongue.
"What did you just say?" he asked
"Get a translator, you git." I spat again.
"Parselmouth, father," Draco said, "it's inherited."
"Draco, put on a shirt… you're taking her back to her guest room."
"What? Why do I have to do it? You're already dressed! You do it!"
"Do not talk to your father in that tone," Lucius said, "I said put a shirt on, take her to her room to change… and just for that back talk, you're showing her around so an incident such as this will not happen again."
"Seriously?"
"Yes, Draco, seriously."
Draco closed his door, forgetting to put a shirt on, and grabbed Hermione's arm, dragging her down the hall.
"You can let go of me, now! I'm not a rag doll, you twit!" she yelled out the last sentence in Parseltongue.
"I'm really tired of the Parseltongue, Granger," Malfoy said, "I'd cut it out if I were you. It's not impressive anymore."
"Yes it is," she hissed again, "you know it is."
"I'm not even going to entertain you by making a response to that, Granger,"
She grabbed her arm away from him and walked beside him, hugging herself from the early morning chill.
"Aren't you cold in that?" He asked her as they were walking, referring to her silver silk nightgown. Suddenly, she was a little self conscious about how skimpy and sheer the nightgown was in the first place. It had spaghetti straps and was about three inches above her knees. She struggled to find a sarcastic remark to hide her burning cheeks.
"No, I hug myself because I have no friends."
"That's believable."
"That's called sarcasm."
"I know what sarcasm is, Granger, I'm chock full of it."
They reached her room.
"Alright, go inside to change so we can get this over with."
"You could be a little nicer to me, you know."
"The word nice isn't in my vocabulary."
"You're a complete arse, you know that?" she hissed before slamming the door behind her. She looked around and realized she had no clothes… she had left them all at home with her parents or at the Burrow. So, since she didn't want Death Eaters ransacking her home or the Burrow, she reluctantly put the dress from last night back on, with her black pumps.
She opened the door and saw Malfoy outside, still in his silk pajama pants without a shirt. She was once again distracted about how chiseled his abdominal region was and forgot that the door was wide open and that he, too, was staring at her.
"Um, I'm ready?"
"I can see that… aren't you a little dressed up for a tour of my house?"
"It's not like I had anything else."
But he was already walking away from her.
"Hey, come back! I might get lost again!"
Her heels clicked as she ran down the hallway after Malfoy.
"So, this is a hallway, this is a door, this is a vase,"
"I've got eyes, Malfoy,"
"Please hold all questions until the end of the tour. Thank you."
"Cocky prat."
"Arrogant git."
"Ignorant bastard."
"Smartass."
"Self-centered twat!" I hissed.
"It's not fair when I don't understand what you're saying."
"You're not supposed to know what I'm saying. That's why I'm speaking Parseltongue."
"I'm not responding to that, since I don't know if it was a threat, an insult or an explanation."
She giggled and they walked down the hallway, making our way down to the kitchen area. That was when she realized how hungry she was and her stomach rumbled. Loud.
"I didn't know Chewbacca was here, too," he said, smirking at her.
"Shut up and make me some food!"
"You've got four functioning limbs and a brain, make your own breakfast. We've got cereal, I'm sure that's simple enough for you."
"Seriously, Malfoy, if you don't make me food in the next five minutes I'm going to punch your nose… again."
Malfoy grumbled but began to move around the kitchen to prepare breakfast for Hermione. He pulled out several ingredients and began to make what looked like an omelet… and a pretty good one.
She started to notice how skilled he was with cooking tools and he slid the plate across the table the table from her.
"There. Eat."
"Nicer, please?"
"I said eat."
"Eating."
She scooped a forkful of the fluffy eggs with bacon bits, green onions and mushrooms into her mouth and, as much as she hated Malfoy, she had to admit that he was an amazing cook because this was the best omelet she's ever had.
"Where did you learn to cook like this?"
"The house elves."
"Oh."
He let her finish up and took her plate.
"Now, go… I think your dad has to talk you to."
She nodded and walked out of the kitchen into the dining room where the dense smoke in the shape of Voldemort was waiting on the chair to speak to her.
