Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This work of fiction/art was created entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Chapter Note: la vedova nera = Italian for 'the Black Widow', which is slang for a woman known to kill her lovers.
The Serpent
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
Chapter 9
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"And he left? Just like that?" Ginny asked.
"What other choice did he have?" Hermione replied. "I wasn't about to deal with him when he was acting like a complete git."
"It's such a shame though! Malfoy is one hot piece of‒"
"Looks aren't everything, Gin."
Hermione grinned at her frowning friend, throwing the red strip of cloth mistakenly labelled a dress back on the rack. The two witches were at Twilfitt and Tatting's in search of an appropriate dress for Theo's dinner party-slash-business meeting.
The purpose of the dinner party had finally been revealed to her after much note passing (poor owls!): Theo wanted to buy a particular painting from Blaise Zabini's mother—a woman infamous for her dubious morals and for the fact that all seven of her husbands had all disappeared or died under mysterious circumstances, conveniently leaving her a very wealthy witch. Theo wanted to pay cash for the picture, not exchange it for sexual and political favours, as Mrs. Zabini desired (he'd literally gagged when he'd told her that at his last private meeting with the widow, Fiona Zabini had shown up in sexy lingerie, but practically dry humped him against her office door).
Basically, the fifty-something-year-old witch had apparently had her eye on the third most eligible bachelor in England for quite some time now, and Theo needed Hermione to act as both a justification for his disinterest in the older woman and as a physical barrier to Mrs. Zabini's unwanted advances (in case la vedova nera decided to get grabby).
Hermione found the whole situation hilarious, actually. Poor Theo had seemed terrified of being alone with his former Housemate's mum after the events in her office, but it was clear he really wanted that painting. Driven to desperation, he'd resorted to pleading with Hermione, flashing those pretty baby blues of his at her in an attempt to convince her to help him out. She'd caved, of course, a sucker for his fluttering lashes and promises of making it up to her later.
She had definite ideas as to how he could do exactly that, too.
"You do realise you're now officially dating one of the hottest and most sought-after wizards in the country?" Ginny stated.
"And I didn't even pursue him," Hermione reminded her. "Theo was the one who did all the chasing. I can assure you, however, that his popularity had nothing to do with why I accepted. I like him. He's fun and… a little mysterious."
Ginny snorted. "Still, if Malfoy's personality wasn't so atrocious, I'd think him the better match for you," her friend said. "You two have always had a twisted simmering under the surface for each other, and the guy has literally everything else you want in a man: looks, intelligence, influence, money, ambition. Too bad he's such a git."
Hermione shrugged, trying to play off how Ginny's words stirred up something strange and fluttery inside her chest. "If I had to be absolutely honest, he's not so bad," she admitted. "Yes, he acts like a complete arsehat on occasion, but he's an interesting enough character to get a pass on the worst of his flaws. Besides, you know how much I like great hair, good fashion sense, and an appreciation for expensive gifting – all of Malfoy's best attributes."
Ginny looked at her with a narrowed, suspicious gaze.
Flustered that she may have revealed too much, Hermione turned her attention back to the clothing rack before her. "What do you think of this dress?"
*.*.*.*.*
Ginny let pass Hermione's obvious attempt to change the subject… this time.
Privately, she thought her friend and Malfoy would make an excellent couple, as both had volatile personalities, were stubborn, clever, cunning, sarcastic, and not to mention the sexual tension between them was enough to suffocate whatever room they shared. Too bad Hermione was too blinded by their negative past to realise the truth. Either that or she was in complete denial.
As for Malfoy... well, Ginny had a few theories about his actions and general behaviour toward her brunette friend. Last year, for instance, she'd accidentally run into him at St. Mungo's while going for her annual physical exam (the league required it of all Quidditch players before a season began). Malfoy had been there to accompany a friend of his, a member of the Falcons who'd been there for the same reason as Ginny, when an unconscious, bloodied Hermione had been rushed in through the emergency entrance. Apparently, she'd been injured in a raid.
Needless to say, Ginny hadn't known it was possible for the pale Malfoy heir to appear translucent until just that moment. He had taken one look at Hermione and had become as washed-out as a ghost. His concerned eyes had then followed Hermione's inert body as frantic Healers rushed her through the double-doors leading into the emergency services area. Just as Ginny was moving off to follow, worried about Hermione, too, she could have sworn she'd heard him ask a passing Medi-witch behind her if there was something he could do to help Hermione.
A man like Malfoy didn't help others unless there was something in it for him… or because he cared.
It's not as if she could tell her friend that, though. Hermione seemed a bit taken with Theodore Nott at the moment, and she wouldn't upset that apple cart. If Malfoy really wanted Hermione, he'd make his move soon anyway, because there was nothing as motivating as jealousy.
She should know.
"So, tell me," Ginny led, kept her tone casual, knowing that a cornered Hermione tended to react badly, "do you know who else is going to attend this dinner party, aside from you, Mister Sexy Pants, and the pushy widow?"
"I would assume Blaise," Hermione said, lifting a dress from the rack and putting it against her body in consideration. "It is his mother's party after all. Ron told me he's dating Daphne Greengrass, so she'll probably be there as well. Maybe Malfoy, too. From what I hear, he's still friends with Blaise, so he must have been invited. As for the rest, I have no idea. I'm only doing this as a favour for Theo." She frowned. "Merlin knows this won't be at all fun – trapped in a house with nothing but Slytherins for company."
"A 'favour', hmmm? Is that what Muggles call it?" Ginny insinuated, snickering.
"Hush, you!" her friend chastised.
Laughing loudly, Ginny picked an indecently short, black dress. It had a high neckline, but was almost completely backless (it fell at least to the sway of the spine). She presented it to her more conservative friend with a grin. "This one, definitely."
As expected, Hermione took one look at the dress, paled, and shook her head. "No, absolutely not. There's no way I'm wearing such a‒"
"Sexy, fuck-me dress. Yes, you are." She gave Hermione a sinister grin. "This dress is guaranteed to ruin Fiona Zabini's plans one way or the other, thus scoring points with your date. Further, you're going to show that room full of slippery snakes just how bold and beautiful Gryffindor women truly are. You're representing the pride of our House at that dinner, so you'd better make a lasting impression for all of us!"
Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Ginny cut her off with a firm look, thrusting the dress out at her friend.
"You are going to try this on, Hermione Jean Granger, or so help me, I'll sneak into your house when you're asleep and burn all your clothes so you'll have no option but to wear this piece."
One way or another, Ginny was determined to see her friend settled with either Theodore Nott or Draco Malfoy, and this dress was the perfect enticement for at least one of them to make their move.
*.*.*.*.*
A short glaring and hissing match ensued between Hermione and Ginny over the trying on of the dress, with Hermione eventually giving in after feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on.
With a huff, she grabbed the garment from her friend's hand and stomped towards an empty dressing room. "I'm only trying it on to shut you up," she called over her shoulder, loud enough to be heard over Ginny's excited squeals.
Changing quickly, she couldn't help but sigh in pleasure at the feel of the silk against her naked skin. The hem came to the middle of her thighs, and made her legs look amazingly long. And the back… Merlin, it was the most daring thing she'd ever worn! Just an inch shorter back there and the dress would be too indecent to wear in public!
Quickly, she shucked her sensible, cotton knickers so as not to spoil the effect, and took another look in the mirror, glancing over her shoulder. The bra would have to go, too. She undid the hooks, pulled off the dress sleeves, removed the bra and tossed it aside, then shimmied back into the dress. Much better.
Wow. This dress was definitely going to require going without lingerie. As there were no built-in cups for the top, though, it would be a situation of needing breast lift tape for support, and a pair of classy, tasteful nipple pasties to prevent a "your high beams are on" situation, if a draft blew past.
Having committed to trying it on, she felt it only fair to give Ginny the full fashion show, so with a decisive nod, she quickly and expertly waved her wand towards her feet, murmuring the incantation to transfigure her shoes into appropriate footwear for such a sensual piece. Satisfied with the results, she walked out of the dressing room to do a little cat walk action.
"Well, I've tried it on. It's lovely, but don't get your hopes up, Gin. I'm still not wearing this to Theo's dinner." She glanced down at herself. "I do admit it looks good, though."
"We are in agreement, then."
The dreadfully familiar deep voice caused Hermione to stumble, and her heart started hammering under her ribcage.
Please, God, no. Not him, not now.
Slowly, as if hoping he'd disappear before she could fully look up, she lifted her eyes from the ground.
Ginny stood off to the side, her lips pinched together tightly in an attempt to stifle a laugh. Her friend had her arms crossed and a self-satisfied gleam in her eye.
Steeling herself, Hermione looked past her traitorous friend (who she planned to torture later for taking pleasure in her panic) to where hewas. For some reason, she always seemed to know exactly where Malfoy was in a room.
Their eyes connected... and her jaw promptly hit the floor.
Dear Merlin.
Malfoy was dressed all in black, head to toe: black cargo pants, black shirt, black dragon-hide boots, and a black leather jacket. His hair, rather than slicked back and styled to perfection as it usually was, was free of product today, pulled back in a low ponytail, and the shorter strands were tucked behind his ears. He looked casual… and more touchable.
Infinitely more touchable.
Hermione's belly quivered, her palms suddenly felt sweaty, and her mouth was obnoxiously dry as she took in his full measure. Damn him, he looked edible! She had to stifle the urge to grab his black, leather belt and pull him into her abandoned dressing room, to lock them up inside and not to let him leave until she was thoroughly shagged up against the mirror (just like what he'd done to Greengrass)... and then she'd Apparate them back to her flat for more.
Hermione's breath caught when she once again locked eyes with him. His usually passive, grey eyes were now a molten-silver, and they ran boldly the length of her body with masculine approval.
She wondered what he was thinking, and then chastised herself for caring. "What are you doing here?" she demanded. To her relief, her voice was strong, and not the breathy whimper she'd feared it would be.
Malfoy casually shoved his hands in his pockets and titled his head to the side. "My mother had need of a set of new dress robes, and as I had nothing better to do, I agreed to accompany her on her outing."
*.*.*.*.*
On a date with his mum. How sweet!
"How chivalrous of you," Ginny muttered, watching him watch her friend.
Yeah, he wanted to bone Hermione but good. No question. Too bad her friend refused to see it.
*.*.*.*.*
"Indeed," Malfoy answered Ginny, giving Hermione's friend a sly smirk. "Some people might even say it's the mark of a–" He glanced sideways at Hermione with a wicked gleam in his eye. "–perfect gentleman."
Hermione bristled, as he threw her words about Theo back in her face.
She broke eye contact, not only irritated with him again, but finding his intense stare uncomfortable. "Well, then don't let us keep you," she said with a polite smile that she knew didn't reach her eyes.
Rather than taking her hint, the arrogant man had the audacity to close the distance separating him from her and use his greater height to loom over her and get a good look down the front of her dress.
As he towered over her more petite frame, standing close enough for the heat of his body to be felt, even though the layers of their clothing, Hermione felt decidedly dizzy.
It was his clean, masculine scent. It pervaded her nose and filled her up with lust.
"Nervous?" he asked. His voice was trained low and husky, meant only for her ears.
A shiver of awareness ran down Hermione's spine. She was mortified to feel herself getting wet.
"No," she answered (a bit too breathily), her eyes trained on his lips.
Look away!
His own mouth parted and his breath came faster. "Liar," he softly accused.
God, his face was dangerously close now! Too close!
Hermione licked her lips, preparing to launch into a scathing rejoinder, but hesitating as his hands came out his pockets and an attractive blush appeared on his cheeks.
Merlin, she needed him to touch her, to take her, like she'd seen him take Astoria – hard and fast, thrusting with power into her. She needed him to–
"Draco, dearest!"
Mrs. Malfoy's voice was like a bucket of ice cold water dousing her. Shaken, she dropped her eyes and stepped back, the moment lost.
With a soft curse, Draco straightened and moved far enough to the side to make it clear that nothing untoward was happening. He glared at his beaming, completely clueless mother as the woman came into the back of the store towards the fitting rooms to find him.
Hermione's breathing was fast and shallow and she felt slightly faint from her almost-encounter.
Ginny suddenly appeared at her side, inconspicuously placing her body in a way that allowed Hermione to lean against her without making it too obvious she was being supported by her friend. Her bestie squeezed her shoulder in silent encouragement, and Hermione knew she was in for a round of questioning later, but at that moment, she didn't mind the idea of a grand inquisition in her near future. In fact, she thought she'd do anything the ginger-haired beauty wanted—even wear this accursed dress—simply out of pure gratitude for Ginny's show of loyalty.
*.*.*.*.*
After the scene Ginny had witnessed there was no question in her mind: Malfoy and 'Mione needed to stock up on birth control potions ASAP.
Goodness, her best girlfriend had all but forgotten where she was or even the fact she'd had an audience (of one, but still...)! She'd nearly jumped Draco on the spot!
And he hadn't looked at all unaffected by the blatant lust her friend had been levelling his way, either.
Godric, did Theodore Nott even stand a chance?
*.*.*.*.*
Fervently praying the two Malfoys would leave soon, Hermione softly murmured to Ginny that they'd talk at her place later.
"Sure," Gin replied, her cheeks red and her smile bright. "I'm dying for the details."
Feck.
"Granger."
Startled, she looked over at her co-worker. Hadn't he left yet?
The bastard looked totally unaffected, she noticed, irritated by that fact. Had she really expected any less, though? Having a woman practically panting after him was, most likely, a common occurrence in the life of 'Mister Number One'.
What annoyed her more, however, was the fact that she could now be counted among such women. It disgusted her on some level, because she'd been one to mock such desperate witches before, especially whenever a spread came out in the rags about his eligibility status, and it was accompanied by page after page of pictures showing him attending various functions with a slew of dates – and never the same one twice. Now she was one of them, too: a woman desperate for his attention.
The thought made her positively ill.
"Miss Weasley, Miss Granger what a pleasant surprise!"
Hermione's jaw nearly hit the floor at Narcissa Malfoy's sincerely joyous greeting. The witch was smiling at her and Ginny.
She turned to look at her girlfriend; Ginny was as astonished as Hermione, it seemed. Her eyes were showing entirely too much white, and her ginger eyebrows were hanging somewhere in her hairline.
Deciding it was best to play along, Hermione elbowed Ginny to snap out of it (and to keep the woman from mistakenly thinking Malfoy's mum was talking to someone else), cleared her throat, and plastered a polite smile on her face. "Mrs. Malfoy, it's a pleasure to see you again. How have you been?"
"Oh, please call me Narcissa, my dear," Mrs. Malfoy tutted with a friendly smile. "Mrs. Malfoy makes me feel so old!"
The woman's eye was twitching. In card-playing terms, she was 'showing her tell'.
So, she wasn't as pleased to see Hermione or Ginny as she pretended. She certainly faked it well, though.
Hermione put forth her own poker face, very much used to it after working in the Ministry for so long. "Of course, Narcissa. Please, call me Hermione."
"Certainly." Malfoy's mum stated. She clapped her hands together as if to signify a deal had just been struck between them.
Hermione didn't even flinch at the loud noise.
Ginny jumped.
Draco coughed to hide a laugh.
Narcissa feigned not noticing, although Hermione now believed the woman missed nothing.
Her shrewd blue gaze took in Hermione from head to toe. "Oh, please allow me to say you look simply ravishing, dear. This dress was certainly made for you. It flatters your lovely figure and is very sophisticated."
"Thank you," Hermione politely replied, chancing a glance at her co-worker.
Malfoys hands were back in his pockets, and he had turned away from the discussion, seemingly distracted by a suit on display nearby. Like his mother, though, Hermione knew he was well aware of everything going on around him.
Bastard, leaving me to deal with your mother, while you slink in the background!
"Do you think it's an appropriate gown for Mrs. Zabini's dinner party?" Ginny smoothly cut in, evidently over her shock.
Hermione scowled at her friend's impudent smirk at her.
Narcissa looked her over again, this time with greater interest. "Indeed. It is elegant and sexy, perfect for a young woman. Although, the shoes... I think a pair of ankle boots will better compliment your dress, don't you agree Ms. Weasley?"
"Please call me, Ginny. And, yes, I absolutely agree." Winking at a spluttering Hermione, she boldly took Narcissa's elbow. "I was wondering if you'd be willing to help me find dear 'Mione the perfect pair of shoes."
"Of course! She'll need a clutch, as well."
"And accessories!"
The two women continued their conversation as they made their way back towards the front of the store, leaving behind a fuming Hermione.
Traitorous friend! Sidling up to the enemy!
A chuckle cut through her thoughts, and with alarm she realised she was again alone with Draco. Without looking at him, determined not to let him affect her this time, she folded her arms in a protective gesture in front of her, creating a barrier between her and him.
"Is your mother always like that? Because, I seem to recall a time back when I was a child that your mother wasn't so... accepting... of shopping in a place that sold goods to Muggle-borns."
"She's only like this around people she likes."
Hermione frowned and looked to the side and up at him. Malfoy was smiling.
Not smirking. Smiling.
She tried to ignore the thought that he wore the look well. "She barely knows me. Not to mention, there's the whole thing about my Muggle heritage."
"What can I say, Granger? You're a very likeable person."
His 'likeable' sounded too close to 'lickable' to her ears.
"As for your blood status, that stopped mattering to her after... everything. The war changed her, too."
"No, I'm really not likeable," she argued, feeling uncomfortable with that part of his assessment. "I'm bossy, overbearing, difficult, and stubborn. Too stubborn, my mother insists. Not to mention I know I have a need to always be right, and that I'm a sore loser. Just ask Harry–"
"You sound like you've given your character flaws a lot of thought," He quietly observed.
"I have."
"Well, then, let me tell you something: you are wrong, Granger."
She glared at him. "I'm not wrong. I think I know myself better than you ever could."
He held up a hand to waylay her argument. "I didn't say you were wrong about your personal observations, although how you down you are on yourself... perhaps that's a conversation for another time. You're wrong in believing that because you have flaws, that somehow makes you an unlikeable person. Yes, you're stubborn, and difficult, and sometimes impossible to get along with–"
"Gee, thanks."
He put a finger against her lips, silencing her. "Do not interrupt me. Yes, you are everything you said, but you are also fair-minded, incredibly kind, and immensely intelligent, you always do the right thing no matter the consequences to yourself, you never back down, even if things seem impossible, you're dependable, loyal, and you never deny a person your help, even if they are your enemy. You are a good person, Hermione Granger, inside and out. Everyone knows it, too... so why don't you?"
Hermione was speechless. Her face felt hot and her heart throbbed in her throat. Despite the tears that burned her eyes, she was unable to turn away from Malfoy's gentle gaze.
His finger lightly traced the flesh of her lips, and softly traced the bow and corners of her mouth. His eyes followed the movement, and his head tilted, leaned towards her...
"Draco," she whispered, slowly rising on tiptoe to meet his descending mouth.
"DRACO!"
The eager shout broke the spell, and Hermione and Malfoy both sharply turned toward the source of the commotion.
Hermione paled as she recognised Astoria Greengrass standing at the clothier's entrance, looking jaw-dropping sexy in a mini-skirt, lace shirt that left little to the imagination, and a pair of short black boots. She waved at Malfoy from the doorway, before gracefully crossing the shop to reach him (her hips, Hermione noted, swayed provocatively to and fro).
When she reached Malfoy, Greengrass latched onto his arm with a flirty, yet possessive hold. "Just the man I was searching for!" She leaned her body provocatively against Malfoy's and traced a perfectly-manicured finger down his smooth cheek. "You forgot your shirt at my place last night, love."
Hermione saw red and took several steps back from Malfoy.
Astoria's coy laughter suddenly stopped when she noticed Hermione. The witch's viper-green eyes narrowed with displeasure. "What are you doing here, Granger? And what are you wearing?"
"Tori, behave," Malfoy scolded his ex-secretary-secret-lover (or whatever she was to him now).
He sounds so calm, she thought, bitter jealously burning a hole of her stomach.
"What?" Astoria screeched. "This ugly cow got me fired, and you ask me to behave?"
Malfoy had nothing to say to that.
Hermione cursed her own naivety for believing he would have actually cut Greengrass out of his life after the nasty confrontation in her office, and worse, for allowing herself to believe he might feel something for her after all. Why should he, when he had Greengrass—a perfect pure-blood princess—available at his beck and call, no strings attached?
She'd been so stupid.
Turning on her heel, Hermione headed back into the dressing room and changed out of the dress, carefully returning it to its proper place once she was back in her familiar, more comfortable clothes.
She couldn't leave without a parting shot. She was too angry to let Astoria get away with calling her a 'cow'.
"For the record, Greengrass, I didn't get you fired," she snarled, adjusting her bag on her shoulder in preparation of leaving the store. "You did that all by yourself by acting like a spoilt brat who wrongly believes she can do as she pleases and will never be accountable for her actions. It's not my fault your parents forgot to teach you that foolish actions have justified repercussions. Nor is my fault that your only use in the Ministry seemed to have been to conveniently spread your legs for Malfoy whenever he'd needed a stress-relieving fuck. So you can stop blaming me for your short comings." She looked the other woman up and down, giving her the most scathing look in her arsenal. "And please, get some self-respect."
Resisting the temptation to look at Malfoy, she made her way towards the door and walked out of the shop with her head held high.