Chapter Ten: Bomb Yourself
When the door to the bedroom Hermione was occupying burst open, which just happened to be Malfoy's room incidentally, Hermione knew it couldn't be good news.
But when Draco Malfoy hurriedly started undressing next to her, frantically as if his life depended on it, Hermione knew something was terribly off. Because why would the man that hated her so deeply, the very same man that had yelled at her for being a bad mother just a few hours ago, undress in the dark next to her? Granted it was his bed, and he must've been tired after the day he no doubt had had... but... it just was too confusing to comprehend.
What really threw her was when he stared at her, not pausing practically ripping his clothes off, and told her to undress too. When she didn't move, he began to do it for her. It was then that she had the sense to scream, but was not surprised when his hand clamped down over her mouth.
So she was going to be raped by Draco Malfoy. Plain and simple. What had she been expecting, that he'd kept her in his house from the kindness of his heart? That he wanted to make sure that she be aware of any news he'd found about her son?
The man looking for my son is about to take advantage of me. Is this some kind of sick way of payment?
Well, she wasn't going to pay it. She began to struggle and a look of panic began to spread over his features. When he straddled her, blocking all of her movements, she bit down on the hand covering her mouth until he bled. He hissed but didn't let her go.
"Listen, Granger," he whispered hurriedly, his lips close to her ear. She shivered from his proximity. "There are people trying to kill me. We have to pretend, alright? Just pretend. I'm not going to fucking force myself on you. We just need to make it convincing."
She stopped her struggling. Of course he wasn't trying to rape her. He didn't even find her sexually attractive, thank God! He was just using her as, what? A cover? It made sense. If he was here having sex with her, he couldn't be somewhere else doing whatever it was that he had been caught doing, no doubt.
This would be his alibi.
She almost shrugged to herself. If this was what he needed to help him find Hugo...
"No time to think, Granger. The wards just told me they're here," he hissed into her ear. "Please, please, make this convincing or we're both dead!"
She just nodded and barely had the time to say okay before he pulled the shirt she had worn to bed off and thrown it off to some far corner in the room. Thankfully, she had thought to wear a bra to bed that night and he didn't make to remove it. No, instead, he gripped her hips after pulling the blankets up just enough so that whoever it was watching them fake sex couldn't tell that they were both wearing underwear.
Then, he began thrusting against her.
And it was goddamn hot.
It wasn't that the idea of Malfoy thrusting against her was all that appealing... Well, granted, he was attractive, good looking, and practically willing to be her saviour. It was more of the fact that she hadn't had sex in a very long time. It had been years since Ron's death, but she'd been far too busy trying to keep her family afloat to pay attention to something as unimportant as sex.
So when she felt Malfoy pressing against her and panting in a very convincing way, the half strangled moan that escaped her lips was only half faked. In fact, it sounded quite convincing to her own ears. It made her blush like no tomorrow. But she supposed that too was a good thing. It meant that whoever it was watching could see that she was affected and all hot. Even if it was for reasons other than sex.
"When I kiss your neck, moan my name," Malfoy barely whispered to her before pressing his hot lips against every inch of her neck.
The thing was, even if he hadn't asked her to do it, she probably would've anyways and later blamed it on acting convincing. It felt so damn good that she didn't even question the urge to groan like a banshee. She couldn't stop the pants and the heated moans. Couldn't stop from loudly exclaiming, "Malfoy... Gods, Draco, right there!"
Well alright, she'd exaggerated a bit.
His chuckle was a little louder than he needed it to be as was what came out of his mouth next, "You like that, baby?"
She couldn't believe her ears. He sounded damn hot, sounded cheeky, sounded just as arrogant as he always was but this time she actually liked it! There was no time to process that thought either, because his lips were at her ears again, whispering but barely audible.
"You have to kiss me, Granger. We have to sell this-"
She'd grabbed his head and kissed him madly before he'd even finished whispering. She felt him moan deep in his throat and guessed that was what was meant to be the grand epic finale because he'd stopped thrusting against her. She almost regretted that he'd chosen to end there, almost missed feeling him rubbing against her just so. But she convinced herself in a split second it was only because she'd gone so long without it. With anyone. Not with him.
Fuck, even her thoughts were jumbled!
But apparently, his were too. His lips were still pressed against hers and his body was still crushed against hers like glue. She didn't mind it so much, didn't mind it at all, actually. But she wondered, nonetheless, what was going on in that pretty blond head of his. No sooner than she'd thought it, he sighed and rolled over next to her, making sure to cover her with the blankets so that whoever it was couldn't see that she wasn't actually naked.
But instead of rolling away, he pressed himself against her side, pulling her form against his and tucking his head against her neck.
When he spoke, his voice was definitely louder than it needed it to be. She assumed whoever it was that was watching was still there. "Damn, Granger," he said, trailing kisses down her neck. "Who knew you were such an animal in bed? I could just ravish you over and over and over again." And then he nipped her earlobe. She couldn't help the shiver that passed through her at that.
"What, the last three times weren't enough for you? I'm tired, you bastard! Doesn't it ever go down?" He looked at her incredulously for a split second before bursting out into thunderous laughter. Eventually she couldn't resist and joined him.
"Alright. I'll have to settle," he eventually said, pretending to pout. "But tomorrow night, let's aim for four." She rolled her eyes, didn't even have to pretend.
"You're such a pig!" she exclaimed.
"A very hot pig you'd just love to-" Even she heard the distinct pop from just outside the doorway. Malfoy shot up from the bed and bounded through the door. He was back in seconds, though. It was obvious whoever it was had gotten away. "Great. Mission accomplished," he muttered almost to himself. He sat himself down on the edge of the bed and began slowly dressing, putting one leg at a time into his pant legs. It took him literally five minutes.
She realized he must've been exhausted.
"Care to tell me what's going on?" she asked.
He looked up at her as if just realizing that she was there. "Sorry," he muttered. "It was necessary, I hope you understand-"
"I'll understand better once you tell me what happened tonight," she cut him off, staring at him calmly in the eye. They stared at each other as if in challenge for a few minutes, but she wasn't giving up. He dropped his gaze first and she knew he was going to be stubborn on this issue. "You can't just barge in here, pretend to have sex with me, and not explain!" she nearly shrieked. But all he did was role his eyes and remain stubbornly silent. "Malfoy!" she insisted.
"Granger!" he mimicked.
She narrowed her eyes but he just stared blankly at her. She didn't understand what the big fucking deal was. It wasn't as if she was about to go out shouting to the Wizarding world that Draco Malfoy had pretended to have sex with her so that he could have an alibi for some illegal thing or another. Who the hell did he think she was? He must have realized he was being absurd too, because he just sighed, rolled his eyes, and glared at her.
She just waited him out.
"Fine, Granger. I was somewhere where I wasn't supposed to be tonight, trying to look for another lead on your son. Whatever Blaise had found before he died was monumental apparently, because no fucking soul is talking. They're scared." He paused a moment for breath and she could tell talking about Blaise was a pain for him. "So I got caught snooping. I needed a cover. That's all. I'm sorry I practically molested you."
She shrugged. "That's fine."
"That's mighty generous of you," he snorted.
"How did they manage to get in here, anyways? Your wards are impeccable. I checked them myself..." He raised a brow as if she'd actually dared check on his wards. She had the decency to blush. It was a fair question, though, and her actions should be excused. He had made her stay in his home, so she should be allowed to do stuff like that!
"I left them down, obviously, so they could get in and witness our little show."
"Well, that explains a lot." He shrugged and she couldn't help but shrug back. It made him shake his head. "Won't they be curious if they come back? When they see all the wards..."
He looked at her as if she were stupid but didn't want to be rude about it. So instead, he spoke really, really slowly, as if she were five and he was teaching her to tie her shoe laces properly. "When a person finds an intruder in their house they generally...get...protection..."
She blushed even redder if that was possible. "Right, Malfoy."
"Listen, Granger," he eventually said after a moment of very awkward silence, "I'm sorry about earlier."
She considered his apology, ascertaining if he actually meant it or not. Then she realized it wouldn't matter if he'd meant it or not anyways, because he was Malfoy, and Malfoy's never apologized. She ought not to look a free gift in the mouth. "That's alright."
"I'm sorry about now, too. Should've sent a warning or something..." He seemed highly uncomfortable with what they'd done.
In retrospect, she didn't know why she wasn't feeling more uncomfortable. Then again, what was the big deal? When one's life is on the line, you do what you got to do and forget about it later. She'd done many things during the war that she'd rather not have, but circumstances called for drastic measures and she'd done what she had had to do. There was no point dwelling on it.
So that was what she was going to do.
"Yeah. Forget about it. Hope we were convincing enough, though."
The small wistful smile on his face perplexed her. "That we were, Granger, that we were."
/
Hugo startled awake, not knowing for a second what was going on around him. The children were whispering to each other and that was a strange event in itself. Hugo didn't know why they were doing something so bold (bold for them, anyways, they never took the risk of whispering at all), but perhaps there was something that Hugo was missing.
"What's going on?" he eventually whispered when he could make no sense of what they were saying.
They all startled and stilled at the same time. He supposed he was sorry to have scared them like that. Living in these kinds of conditions had caused them all to be scared silly and shocked at every little thing. Hugo didn't blame them. If he had been the one awake and talking, he would've been shocked too. So he let them slow down their pounding hearts and catch their breath again before answering his question.
Eventually, one dirty little girl answered in a hushed whisper. He had to lean closer to the sound of her voice to make out what she was saying. "The man left us triple the amount of food earlier, when you were still asleep." The girl gestured near the door and Hugo could make out three buckets of the porridge like substance they were always forced to eat. Then the girl pointed to the blank girl. "She said we shouldn't touch it."
"Why?" Hugo automatically asked.
His voice had come out a little louder than he had intended and all the children flinched. Except for the blank girl, who seemed to be blissfully asleep. How she could sleep so peacefully, Hugo did not know. The rest of the children stared up at the ceiling as if to determine if the man had heard Hugo and if he was coming downstairs to investigate.
But nothing happened and after a while the children found it in themselves to calm down. "She said that he's feeding us so we can be strong enough later. So that...so that he can take our magic."
Hugo frowned. He didn't know what was going on still, or why the blank girl thought that they were there so that their magic could be taken away. Earlier, when Hugo had been taken upstairs with the blank girl, nothing had happened.
The man hadn't hit either of them, hadn't asked any questions, hadn't done anything at all. Hugo and the girl had simply stood there before him as he had muttered some words that Hugo didn't recognize. When the girl had held Hugo's hand, perhaps in fear, the man had tried to hit them with his stick – but nothing had happened. In fact, his stick had shattered into hundreds of splintery pieces.
They had hit the man everywhere but not Hugo and the little girl.
Hugo had been scared out of his mind. He hadn't known what to think, what to look at. Everything had been a threat. He knew the man was going to kill him for some reason, knew that him and the little girl were going to be killed. But he didn't know why his mind was telling him that. It wasn't because of him or the little girl that the stick had exploded!
But the man was crazy, after all, crazy enough to trap them here. Why wouldn't he be crazy enough to kill them over something that wasn't even their fault?
But Hugo needn't have worried. The little girl hadn't seemed affected at all by the entire experience and Hugo didn't know why. But the girl had always been a little bit strange, touched in the head even! She didn't know what was good for her, but that didn't mean that Hugo needed to be that way too. He was afraid for his life, afraid that this was the end. All because of a stupid little stick.
In the end, nothing had happened. The man hadn't seemed angry at all. In fact, he seemed absolutely gleeful. Even more gleeful than the time he had brought the eighth girl down into their dungeon space. And it was a frightening experience.
He had shoved them back into their little space and hadn't come back for a very long time. They hadn't seen him since then and the other children seemed happy about it.
But Hugo wasn't happy about it. No, Hugo was scared. If the blank little girl was right and the man had been conducting experiments on them (but honestly, what kind of experiment was that? Hugo didn't understand. What was the point of having a stick explode in front of them?) then if he wasn't here, his experiment had gone well. And if it had gone well, then he was ready to try and take their magic away from them, if that's what he wanted at all.
And then, he'd kill them one by one.
Hugo wasn't ready to die. He wasn't even eleven yet! He wanted to see his mum and make friends and go to Hogwarts. He wanted to go home and let Manny yell at him. He just didn't want to be here anymore. He wanted to just sit down and cry until someone would come save him.
But Hugo knew that that wasn't going to happen. No one knew where he was and it would take them time to come save him. Hugo knew they didn't have all that much time anymore. They were basically on the edge now and there was no stopping the man from getting what he wanted.
The only thing they could do was escape.
So that's what Hugo started planning. He got up and began to push at the walls, tried to find any lose rock or floorboard, tried to see if he could climb up to the ceiling. It was too quiet, too empty – as if the man wasn't even there to supervise them. It was a bad sign, Hugo knew.
But for the rest of that day, Hugo and the rest of the children tried to find a way out.
/
The next day when he barged in on her, it seemed to Hermione that he'd made sure he was in the kitchen and it was daytime. She guessed he still felt extremely awkward about what they'd done just hours before and she could understand why, too. She was Hermione Weasley and he was Draco Malfoy. He probably felt all sullied because he'd been forced to get all fake intimate with a mudblood.
She didn't know what was bothering him more, the fact that he had touched dirty blood or the fact that there were people out there who thought he was getting intimate with dirty blood on a daily basis. She wondered what they'd think about her.
It wasn't a pretty picture that popped up into her mind.
So naturally, she did the only thing that she could do in such a situation. She blocked it from her mind to make space for other uncomfortable situations to take its place. This all could be dealt with later, to be honest. She had to prioritize, and at this moment the most important thing was getting her son back, no matter what it took. So what if there were people out there that thought she was a whore, sleeping with the enemy?
She didn't care, didn't give a flying fuck so long as Hugo was brought back to her unharmed.
"I need you to do something for me," he finally said to her after an awkward silence. "Since I'm doing the world for you. We can consider this payment."
What, last night wasn't payment enough for you? She desperately wanted to taunt him, say something mean, but she held her tongue. She didn't want him to fly off the handle once more and suffer the consequences. The consequences were never pleasant, she reminded herself. She'd just have to do whatever it is that he wanted her to do and hope that it was over with quickly.
"What do I have to do, then?" she muttered, pouring herself some coffee.
He seemed honestly surprised that she hadn't put up more of a fight and perhaps that had stumped him for a moment or two. Or perhaps he was just thinking of a way to phrase whatever he wanted from her correctly. It didn't matter. It wasn't as if she was going anywhere.
"Astoria's back in town," he started, scratching the back of his head. She raised a brow at him in confusion, but refrained from interrupting. What the hell did she care if his wife was back in town? "You're going to go to her and get my son from her bloody clutches."
She nearly choked on her coffee. "What?" she spluttered. This time he raised an eyebrow. It wasn't as if it was difficult information to process.
"I want you to go to the hotel she's staying at and bring me back my son," he said slowly, enunciating every syllable as if he thought she was stupid. Which he probably thought she actually was. "It's a start, at least."
She slammed her mug onto the granite counter. "Let me get this straight. You want me to barge in there and, what? Kidnap your son? Are you fucking mental?"
He rolled his eyes. "I don't care how you do it, just get it done." He just shrugged when her eyes widened and said nothing more. When he picked up the mug from the counter, taking a sip of her coffee without a second thought, she was seriously suffering from whiplash.
First he pretends to sleep with her then he shares beverages? What the fuck was wrong with him? She wanted to ask him just that but he was already halfway out the door, taking her coffee with him. She was considering going after him and slapping some sense into his idiotic blond head when said head poked through the kitchen door, startling the hell out of her.
"Yeah, I forgot to say. Do it by tonight because they'll be gone tomorrow." And with that he was already out the door.
This time she didn't hesitate running after the ferret. "What the fuck, Malfoy? Tonight?" she shouted.
He barely turned to acknowledge her, bending down to change his shoes into a fresh pair, instead. "Are you deaf, woman? I did just say tonight, didn't I? Now get it done! It's a fair exchange."
That stumped her and she had nothing to say to him as he walked out the door, down the pathway, and apparating just outside the gates.
/
She didn't know what the hell she was doing pacing outside the hotel room, too afraid to knock. She shouldn't have been so scared of what was about to happen, or so confused either. Of course she had every right to be here, this is what would help Malfoy work even harder to find her son.
And anything justified that...
She'd always thought that Malfoy had the perfect life. Their family was always being photographed and they'd been the perfect picture of happiness. But then, she'd be foolish to assume that they were happy. Pictures were just that – pictures. They didn't mean anything, especially when it came to dealing with Malfoy.
So they weren't happy, she assumed. But why would Astoria refuse to let him see his son? There was nothing that excused that. Hermione knew the pain of being separated from one's child. No one deserved that kind of punishment, not even Malfoy.
She could hear Astoria from the other side of the door, most likely talking to Scorpius. She cringed at what she was about to do... But it just had to be done. There was no way around it. Malfoy had said so himself. This was payment.
So she knocked.
The voices on the other side of the door stilled immediately. She could hear hushed whispers after a moment and then quiet footsteps coming to the door. Hermione mentally braced herself for what was about to come, but there was not enough time before the door was opened.
She didn't know what she was expecting but whatever it was, it certainly wasn't this. Astoria Malfoy stood before her in a pair of pajamas that would've looked comical on anyone but her – she was honestly too beautiful to look silly in anything she wore. She was the kind of person other women felt uncomfortable being in the same room with because the woman was honestly too beautiful – Hermione wasn't an exception to this rule.
Astoria seemed just as surprised to see Hermione there as Hermione was to see her. Her blonde hair was dishevelled in the most beautiful way and Hermione could feel the pangs of jealousy begin to form in her stomach. It was too bad this woman was evil, not letting her own husband see their child. What kind of woman did that, anyways? But she didn't say anything. This was going to be painful enough without the accusations.
"Please, come in, Mrs. Wealsey," she said politely, without even bothering to ask what the hell Hermione was doing at her door. At least the woman had manners. They all seemed to have manners... "Or are you going by Ms. Granger these days?" Hermione was offered a seat.
"Um. Either or..." Hermione muttered ungraciously. She was put off by what was going on. She hadn't been prepared for this to be a civilized encounter.
Astoria smiled, actually smiled, at her in the same polite way all Slytherins seemed to have in political meetings. So this was going to be one of those days. "Alright, then, Ms. Granger. I hope you don't mind, you've caught us at an odd time. Would you mind if I quickly change into something more appropriate?"
"That's not necessary-" Hermione began, but the woman was already gone into what appeared to be a washroom and out again within two minutes. She was wearing a slightly wrinkled dress but she looked even more beautiful than before. She pulled her hair into a sloppy bun before sitting across from Hermione in the only other chair in the room, pulling Scorpius into her lap.
They were the perfect picture, both well sculpted, long limbed, and the epitome of grace. They were smiling at her even though they had no reason to. It pained her, because she was about to become their enemy. Or wasn't she already their enemy?
To be honest, the only reason Astoria hadn't kicked her out of the room was because she was Hermione freaking Granger-Weasley. War hero, blah blah blah.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Astoria asked, smiling. She didn't seem hostile at all. It made Hermione uncomfortable. She didn't seem like she was acting, not at all. She seemed quite genuine. But then again, Astoria had no idea that Hermione was a threat. Perhaps that would change it all.
Or maybe she was just that great of an actor.
"Mr. Malfoy, your husband..." She could see the flash of shock on Astoria's face. "Well, he sent me here." Hermione nearly cringed. Her discomfort was probably clear to the entire room.
Astoria had to clear her throat, her face unnaturally pale before she finally addressed Hermione once more. "Scorpius darling, can you go play in the other room for a while? Ms. Granger and I have a little work to do, alright?" Scorpius just nodded and skipped away, blissfully unaware that his life was about to change. "What does he want?" she asked Hermione. Her tone was sharper than the edge of a sword.
"He um..." but she couldn't find it in herself to say it. So instead, she handed Astoria the package that she'd gotten from the ministry and filled out on Malfoy's behalf.
"Rights to the child? Guardianship? This is absurd!" Astoria nearly shouted out to no one in particular while thumbing through the pages. When she finally looked up to meet Hermione's gaze, her eyes were filled with unshed tears. "But there must be something you can do..."
It killed her to do it, it really did, but she shook her head. "I can't do anything, I'm sorry. I have to take Scorpius to the Manor..."
Tears began to brim over Astoria's eyes and pour down her pretty face. Somewhere deep in her mind, it bothered Hermione that this woman could look so beautiful even when she was in agony. It was no surprise then that someone like Malfoy would choose to marry someone like Astoria – too beautiful to even stare at too long without feeling self-conscious.
"You're honestly going to sit there and take away my son to that bastard?" Hermione cringed. "Do you have any idea how hard I've worked to keep Scorpius safe and you're just going to ruin it all?" It seemed as if Astoria was snapping at the seams right in front of her and Hermione could do nothing about it. "You know Draco, don't you? He'll corrupt my son! He'll...he'll..." and then she truly burst into sobs.
Hermione reached over and placed her hand over Astoria's. This woman wasn't the least bit evil, she realized. She was just a mother, just any other woman that had the misfortune of marrying a man she didn't like or love. Hermione could honestly see why Astoria would want to keep her son away from Draco now. When she actually thought about it, Draco wasn't exactly... a model figure was he?
She'd thought he was the ferret devil from hell on many an occasion, so why would she expect Astoria to think any differently?
But then, she was trusting the life of her son in Draco Malfoy's hands.
It was too confusing to comprehend.
The next few hours were the most awkward Hermione had ever suffered through. Astoria had went from sobbing, to accusing Hermione of kidnapping, to sobbing again, to pleading with her to have some sense. And when all had failed – because Hermione really needed to do this – Astoria had turned colder than Draco Malfoy had ever been.
And the glare that she had pinned Hermione with was honestly as daunting as searching for horcruxes.
"I'm truly sorry, Mrs. Malfoy. There is nothing I can do," said a very irritated Hermione three hours into the blasted conversation. "Trust me, I don't like him any more than you do, I'm just doing what I have to do."
"You think you can just waltz in anywhere and do whatever the hell you want, don't you? Just because you're the fucking golden girl!" Hermione cringed at the implication and tone of the other woman's words. This wasn't something she had signed up for. Wasn't something that she wanted to go through. For Hugo... For Hugo. "Well, let me tell you-"
"I think that is enough. I insist you start packing now," Hermione said, shakily getting up from her seat. This had been an emotionally trying experience to say the least. Astoria seemed stunned that Hermione had actually stood up against her. After all, who stood up against someone that beautiful? But in the end, she had no other choice but to get up and pack her sons things.
That didn't stop her from slamming the bedroom door right in Hermione's face.
"You're just going to go see papa for a few days, alright, my love? And I want you to behave and brush your teeth every day. And no cheating!" Astoria cooed. She sounded like a loving mother, really. It didn't matter that she was cold to other people... so long as she was lovely to Scorpius. "Now, I don't want you wasting your time with nonsense, alright? No broomsticks. You're going to be studying. What shall you be doing?"
"Studying," she heard Scorpius mutter back.
"And don't you let that mudblood get to your head. Alright?"
"Yes, mother."
That bitch!
Hermione opened the door and cleared her throat. Astoria stood up and pecked her son on each cheek before turning her full glare power onto Hermione. She hadn't been gladder to escape from somewhere in years. This was insanity. Who would ever want to live with a woman like that?
When they made their way towards the door, Astoria grabbed Hermione's spare hand before she could escape. "Are you happy?" she whispered so Scorpius wouldn't hear their parting words. "That bastard is going to ruin my son!"
Hermione became irritated. From what she could tell, Astoria wasn't that great of a mother either. "No more than you have, Mrs. Malfoy. Good evening to you."
Oh, she'd been so satisfied with the shocked expression on the blonde witch's face and pleased that she'd finally gotten a jab at the snobbery. She had never thought she'd feel sorry for Draco Malfoy, but if someone had to live with a person like Astoria... well, that would explain the evil crabbiness.
She supposed she could excuse Malfoy for being such a git for a while.
But more than that, when Malfoy eventually sauntered in to find his son sitting in a kitchen chair, she knew she'd done the right thing by bringing Scorpius here. The grateful smile Malfoy had thrown her way, the way he had picked his son up and kissed his cheeks and forehead before hugging the boy to him, the utter affection of it all...
Draco wasn't half as bad a parent as Astoria clearly was.