Hermione was awkwardly shuffling through pages as she stood at her desk. This weekend was partly a bust due to her ups and downs. Friday night tossed her in odd feelings about the turbulent Malfoy. She wanted to be still angry with him; everything in her reminded herself how often he had slung vicious mockery at her. However, there was a part of her that could see he indeed was regretful of such words.
Her pages were littered with confusion on how the Malfoys really seemed to be at odds with their selves. It was in that realization that caused her to reexamine the whole situation. "Hard at work?" Andromeda's voice interrupted her thoughts.
The younger witch glanced over and set down the bundle with a sigh. "Not terribly. I have just been trying to figure out how to report on someone that I can't figure out."
Andromeda entered the room entirely and tilted her head at the scratched notes. Speedy and well written, but there were things that stood out. Loopy handwriting and even underlines at portions the witch had not suspected to be interesting if not for the penmanship. "Hermione, I have an honest question for you. Why is it that you write so much about him and his son?"
Hermione's cheeks tinted, and she shrugged her shoulders. "It is an endearing part about him. Probably the only endearing part."
Andromeda patted the desk lightly and hemmed. "Well, we shall see," she paused and moved to the doorway. "I have invited them over for tea tomorrow. Harry said he would like to be here for that."
Hermione's gasp caused the elder witch to pause and glance back with an arched eyebrow. "Why, Drom?" Her voice was small.
Andromeda waved a hand in the air and huffed. "Forgiveness starts with consent. Kingsley approached me last week about it, and I told him yesterday that I would be open to such. It is time. If she is ready to move on, then so am I. We have grandchildren to set examples for."
Hermione's eyes grew as she chewed her bottom lip. "They are coming here?" she inquired, her face still tinted with wild color.
Andromeda bobbed her head with a smile. "Yes, how else would I be able to control the situation. I may be older now, Hermione, but I am still a Black. I never desire to feel under the thumb as I had growing up. You shall see, we are not so different, you and I."
The young witch shuffled and swallowed in front of the piercing stare of her friend and ally. "I don't know if I like this very much," she replied, and Andromeda slanted her head.
"Well, my dear girl, you haven't given him much of a chance to like him have you?"
"I never said it was him," Hermione's retort was sharp with annoyance. "There are so many ill and distorted things about each of them. He is just the one I have the most exposure with among them. It is not him."
It was then that she saw the smirk that she misinterpreted as a Malfoy one; it was indeed a Black expression after all. "It isn't? I have read your notes. You have told me of my sister and her husband with mild distaste, but you avoid talking about their son. A secondary symptom of internal arguments you have staged for every byproduct of his kindness. I would quite like to meet this young wizard and size him up myself." She finished and ran fingers over her dress. "His son sounds sweeter than sugar quills as well. It will be a nice excuse to see him."
Hermione felt unusually at odds with the witch's curiosity. "And if you find you are disappointed?"
"I won't be. I have no expectations for tomorrow. Do you?" Andromeda questioned with an arched eyebrow.
"No, why would I?"
Andromeda bobbed her head and pivoted toward the exit. "Good, then nothing can go wrong. Dinner will be in an hour, dear. I have to go see if my grandson is done consuming his book for the evening." She announced as she walked down the hallway and away from furthering argument.
Clearly, she had no choice. The Malfoys were coming for tea.
Draco was laying on the lavished sheets with curls entangled in his fingers. The house was quiet, his son was asleep, and the woman next to him was drawing circles on his skin with her fingertips. He didn't mind this part. The quiet that came after a successful session. It was masterful and relaxing. Books were stretched out over the rumpled sheets in her attempts to do more than shag him.
"Draco, do you think we could go on holiday," her sweet voice filled his ears. "We can bring the children."
He mumbled an agreement and kissed her hair. "If you want to," he breathed, and her hand swept over his bare leg.
"Can we attempt to solve the theory of energy paradox?" Her voice was now playful as she kissed and nipped at his skin. "It would be," she paused as her hand grazed a more delicate appendage. "A grand amount of investigation," she finished with a breathy sigh.
How did things like this become such a turn on? Books and quills. The smell of parchment? The way she spoke like a scholar but sang like a siren coaxing him to climax every time. She was his own personal aphrodisiac. His drug of choice. His.
"How about you think on that while I expel a bit more of mine?" he growled and pinned the darker witch to the bed.
Her honeyed eyes displayed an alluring amount of debauchery. The type of sin that is only spoken of when the world is shut out. He took in her squirming body as she wrestled softly against his imprisonment. His wand was within reach, and he grasped at it with greed before she was bound at the wrists. Her entire body arched in desire as a heady sound left her throat. It was magic. Nothing short of such.
"Tell me, how inventive are you?" she challenged him with a smirk.
"Let me show you instead," he retorted as he climbed between her legs.
It was only then that Draco had awoken with a start. Breathing deeply and trying to catch up, he couldn't shake the fuzziness and the heat of his dream. Slapping his face with both of his hands a couple of times, he groaned. "For the love of Salazar. What the bloody hell am I dreaming about her for," he growled and shook himself again.
There was no getting around it; he had dreams of defiling that witch. No, not her. It could have been misrepresented. Misunderstood. Something, anything but the possibility that he was going to shag Hermione Granger. The feelings in the dream weren't real. It was all fraudulent and destructive. Nothing in him wanted to shag her the way he had in his energized vision. That wasn't just a rough tryst in a broom closet at Hogwarts… that was tender.
He glanced at his clock and groaned loudly. "She is probably already here," he spat, noting it was half-past nine.
Getting dressed, he fumbled and tried to suppress the feelings of the dream that weighed on him. There was a part of that jumbled imagery that was attractive. He hardly could admit it and chopped it up to rubbish since he no longer desired to see Romilda. He told her yesterday that it had run its course; politely and with a silver tongue to make her understand his way. It was just his mind telling him to find a more suitable shagging partner. That's all the dream was he surmised with a nod and straightened his shirt.
Climbing down the stairs he expected to hear the timbers of the witch who plagued him this morning, but instead, he listened to his mother. "Now, you must behave, Scorpius. This is the first time we have been invited anywhere nice, and I do not know the arrangements my sister has. We mustn't put up a bad show, correct?" His mother inquired as Draco entered the dining room.
"No, Grandmother. I will do my best. Teddy was very nice to me last time," Scorpius announced with a nod.
Narcissa eyed Draco and huffed. "You are going in that?"
"Going where? Is there something I don't know?" Draco asked, and Scorpius turned and clapped.
"We are going to visit Hermione and Teddy today at Aunt Andromeda's house!" the boy exclaimed, and Draco's face dropped.
"Over there? Mother, you didn't tell me about this!" Draco hissed sharply.
Narcissa stood up and placed her hands on her hips. "Draco Malfoy, I had told you last night. You waved me off and said of course before retiring to the sitting room."
"You said we were having tea with my aunt, not going to visit her," Draco corrected her with a pointed glare.
"Alas, we have both been duped, son," Lucius's voice entered the room, and his long fingers rested on Draco's shoulder.
"If you both want to stay, then stay. Scorpius and I are leaving in ten minutes, with or without you," Narcissa snapped waving one of her hands in the air.
"Salazar's knickers, fine!" Draco groaned and pushed his father's hand from him. "I will return in something more presentable."
"I do not see why this is going to benefit us," Lucius growled as Draco made for the entrance to the room.
"It will benefit me," Narcissa spat and patted Scorpius lightly. "It will benefit our grandchild as well."
"No, it will teach him that we are weak and weak people do not lead," Lucius hissed.
"Father, quiet yourself today, or I will silence charm you," Draco grumbled.
"You know better than I that this will not bode well for the Malfoys," Lucius snapped and turned back to his wife. "How dare you make this plan without me. How dare you even think that I would allow this," Lucius retorted.
Narcissa bent down to her grandson as Draco subtly pulled out his wand. "Don't you listen to your Grandfather, he is just angry that we made plans without him," she reassured the boy.
"Narcissa, as my wife you are going to heed my will!" Lucius hollered, and he jerked as he felt a wand touch his cheek from behind.
"Father, either decide to play nice today, or I will show you how strong I really am. Your choice," Draco rumbled.
Lucius knew when he was cornered. "Alright, Draco," he grumbled, resentment forming on his expression.
"Good, now go get cleaned up and make sure you are especially receptive, understood?" Draco inquired, and the man nodded slowly.
"Clearly," Lucius spat, causing Draco to lower his wand.
"Splendid, now I am going to get into something that doesn't scream lackluster."
Draco watched his father stride off passed him with anger still pooling on his face. Narcissa eyebrows were knitted as she stood up and exhaled a breath. "My, he certainly does have a temper. I never have to wonder where yours comes from, son."
A smile appeared on Draco's lips. "No, mother, you don't have a temper at all."
Rolling her eyes, she straightened her gray dress. "Now, let's get ready to leave, please? I told her we would be there by ten."
"Shall I bring the baby pictures for you as well? I can only imagine how much you want to boast about my son." Draco offered, and his mother nodded.
"It will be a grand way to get the conversation temperature warmer if indeed we are poorly received."
"I will be down momentarily." Draco finished and turned, making his way from the room.
It was going to be a long day…
