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'Si vos can non pello pepulli pulsum lemma suo lemma.'
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The Tower Window
12. Dinner Guests
...she'll be joining our side in the war.
Talk about dropping a bomb. How do you react to that? Hermione knew nothing of what Malfoy had told Blaise and Theo, so there was no way for her to form an intelligent response. She could only smile and look dumb. If only she would have killed Malfoy when she had the chance.
Draco laughed. "Miss Granger still looks a little shocked – no doubt surprised we accepted her offer. Is that right Miss Granger?"
"Surprised? I couldn't be any more surprised."
"You see, like so many others, Granger was totally unaware we'd redefined our cause," he said as if explaining to a child. "It has nothing to do with blood status anymore – does it Blaise?"
Zabini shook his head languidly.
"No, not at all," Malfoy went on, inspired by his own ardor. "You see Voldemort was the driving force behind a war to purify the wizarding bloodlines and being as powerful as Voldemort was... well, everyone went along with him."
"Went along with him or died," injected Theo.
Malfoy and Zabini nodded in agreement.
"After the Dark Lord was killed – we were prepared to end the war Granger. But your former side in this conflict wouldn't let us. They were going to take everything we had and throw us in Azkaban."
"So, we kept fighting."
"Well put Blaise. It would have been mental to accept their conditions of surrender. All we wanted is what was rightfully ours," Malfoy orated and waved his hands at the splendor around him. "And we mean to keep it Granger."
"I can see that."
"Well..." Draco slapped the desk as a sign of finality and addressed Zabini and Nott. "I know you two are anxious to be on your way so I won't keep you."
All this time Blaise had been eying Hermione like he knew what she looked like with her clothes off, and she realized that in the lessor or greater degree, he did. Even though his real memories of her were not real, Zabini was creeping her out all the same.
Before leaving, he shot her a little glance and a two finger salute. Then without further delay, Blaise and Theo shook hands with Draco and departed for their assignment. They were left with a few moments of silence before the fireworks.
"Just what the hell is this?" she exclaimed when the oak door shut behind them.
Draco couldn't help but grin.
"It was the only way Granger. The only way for you to get everything you want."
"Everything I want? Are you mental? This has nothing to do with what I want."
"The girl: you wanted the girl free – now she is," he explained.
"You didn't take her somewhere and kill her?"
"You cut to the bone Granger. I try to help you and this is what I get."
"Draco, there's no way I can pretend to be a part of this. And you should know it. I can't do it. Please... just let me go."
"Well, I certainly can't do that now. It would be my head in a noose."
"Look, I'm not the same girl."
He looked at her quizzically.
"You'll come to see things differently in a few days," he reasoned. "We'll have some more correspondence work arranged very soon and your full rations should resume. We just had to work out a deal with Blaise and Theo before you could work openly in the house."
"Draco..."
"Look," he said and raised his hands. "We'll talk again later. I am beginning to feel you don't trust me, but if you experience a change of heart we meet for dinner every night at six. If you want to stay informed, I suggest you give it a try. We dress for dinner, and your dress is hanging in the service room whenever you require it. Daisy can help you with a shower and the dress – just let her know."
...ooo0O0ooo...
She managed to retain her sanity for three more days before feeling compelled to speak to someone – even if that someone was Draco Malfoy. With uncertainty and hunger gnawing at her guts she had to get out of the tiny room.
Every evening now, precisely at five, Daisy would check with her. No doubt at Draco's instructions.
"Will you be joining Master Draco tonight Miss? Or will you be taking supper in your room?"
"Daisy, I think I will join Draco tonight. I'll need a shower and the dress."
"Yes ma'am – and I'm happy that you are. You ain't been eating enough in here to keep a bird alive."
Her second shower for one day – a first in the Manor. All scrubbed and dried she slipped into the satiny sheath dress with nothing under it but skin. It totally hugged every curve and felt delicious on.
Digging into her bag of original things, she retrieved a hair clip to bundle curly locks at the nape of the neck, letting the ends fall and fan out over her shoulder. She had no makeup and had no desire to encourage Malfoy further, but it seemed a bit of a shame. From somewhere Daisy produced a bit of rouge for her lips. Pinching her cheeks, she followed Daisy out the door.
"You is beautiful Miss."
"Thank you Daisy."
With her shoes in her hands she lifted the long hem to keep it out from under her feet while negotiating the slick stone staircase. They waited for Alfred at the ground level entrance while Hermione casually slipped back into the heels. This was a far as Daisy could go as she was not allowed into the main living area of the Manor.
When Alfred finally arrived, Daisy smiled affectionately and waved goodbye as the Head house-elf led Hermione away. This would be another venture into a section of the Manor yet unknown to her. She wondered if they would have company or be dining alone.
The dining room was another over the top affair. Huge windows ran from the tall ceilings to the floor and were covered in draperies and cornices like the renovated bedrooms in the Northeast wing. Portraits of Malfoys long gone adorned the walls in gilt frames. Tiny cherub figurines seemed to pop out of crevices to share in the evening festivities. There were only two place settings at the opposite ends of a long banquet table. Alfred seated her at the end farthest from the door and scampered off. More elves she didn't recognize, but appropriately dressed as waiters, quickly filled her glass with water and set a covered basket of yeast rolls within reach. Damnit. Now she wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything but food until their meal arrived.
Clicking heels on hardwood finally announced her well dressed host.
"Granger! Glad you could make it," he said robustly and paused before taking his chair at the opposite end of the long table. "If you don't mind – could you indulge me," he said and she didn't at first understand what the hell he wanted.
Seeing her confusion, he clarified. "I'd love to see the dress."
She obliged reluctantly by standing away from the table and a making a modest modeling spin.
"It looks very nice."
"Glad you like it. Jeans and trainers would have worked for me."
Draco ignored her snub and motioned for the waiting staff. An elf wearing a white dinner jacket over a dirty pillowcase scampered up immediately.
"Bring some wine and a couple of glasses," he instructed.
"Oh – no Draco – I don't..."
"Nonsense Granger. We must celebrate."
"Celebrate? Celebrate what?"
"You joining our side of course."
"I haven't joined any..." She was interrupted by an elf filling her stemware with exactly six ounces of wine. Now angry, and caring not a damn for manners or protocol, she reached into the basket for a fat yeast roll. She bit a hunk out of the roll and instantly felt a tinge of wicked relief. If she only had butter!
"We can celebrate anyway."
"I'll just celebrate having a good meal if you don't mind."
"Be my guest. I'll think you'll enjoy what the cook's prepared."
"I'm sure I will. About the other day: I think you left out a few details," she said, and stuffed the remainder of the roll in her mouth.
"Yes, a few. What is it that troubles you Granger?"
"I thought of something while wiling away the time. You remember that pair of Death Eaters... the ones that spotted me in the writing room?"
"Thortlean and Pengrove?"
"It was almost as if they expected to find me. They had heard of the girl in the cottage – didn't they? They just didn't know where they'd find her."
Draco threw his hands up. "Perhaps – we'll never know."
"And why will we never know?"
"They ran into unfortunate circumstances."
"What kind of unfortunate circumstances?"
"They were unlucky enough to encounter a large party of the enemy in Knockturn Alley. They chose to stand and fight... poor decision really, and it didn't go well for them."
"Didn't go well – you mean they were killed?"
"Yes."
"Then they would have been the only ones to have known that the real me was staying here with you."
Draco looked heavenward as if the question required thought.
"Yes."
Satisfied, Hermione went back for another yeast roll. A few moments of silence passed between them before she fielded another question.
"What did you tell Blaise and Theo? And just how much will I have to interface with them?"
"Only what I had to. Of course they remember the Polyjuice version of you. And you, by the way, should have no knowledge of her at all."
"She's already forgotten – and you didn't help Blaise and Theo remember anything of that day that may have slipped their mind?"
"No, of course not."
"Well, then how did you explain their memory loss – and the attack. I'm sure Blaise was curious when he woke up with his trousers down around his knees."
"I told them the Order attacked us believing that it was the real you trapped in the cottage. Apparently there were some stories circulating around to that that effect."
"Well now, I wonder who would have done that?" Draco looked back innocently and rolled his shoulders in a shrug.
"The attack was how I obtained my injury, I told them; it was by some form of the Sectumsempra. Potter's old favorite, I believe. But you came to the rescue, I told them," he said and smiled. "And all is well. I couldn't explain the memory loss and they didn't press me on the subject."
"Well... it seems like you've got it all worked out."
"I think so, but you've reminded me that mistakes are always possible."
"Glad to be of help Malfoy."
A horde of house-elves entered the room carrying their evening meal. It took two to carry the main entrée. Struggling, they managed to set the chrome dome covered serving tray on the table. The jacketed elf, who was probably the chef, lifted the dome as if performing a feat of magic. Their evening treat turned out to be a large duck, roasted golden brown, circled by buttered potatoes and leeks. Other elves brought more yeast rolls with butter this time, and a treacle parfait for desert.
"I hope this meets with your satisfaction Granger."
Being abstemious for so long, Hermione could only nod in awe as she gave her plate to an elf for slices of roast duck and potatoes. Unable to wait, she forked a sliver of roast duck into her mouth. Pausing to savor, she closed her eyes while taking epicurean delight in the very first bite.
"This is good Malfoy."
As she continued unabatingly, Draco seemed to take real pleasure in watching her eat.
"You never answered my other question," she finally announced and wiped the corner of her mouth with her forefinger. "How much will I have to deal with these guys, Blaise and Theo?"
"You'll have to 'deal' with them on a fairly regular basis. And we'll have other formal visitors. Pansy is still sympathetic to our side I believe. There will also be the occasional out-of-town guest, and you may be called in for that."
More Slytherins, she thought, and the out-of-town equivalents thereof.
"Well, I don't like them," she managed between bites of treacle parfait. "Blaise and Theo, I mean. They look at me like I'm still naked."
Draco grinned. "So what's the problem Granger? From what I've observed, you don't appear to be particularly modest."
"No, not very. But modesties are merely a condition of the mind. Rape is very real."
"But you said..."
"Uh, no – I wasn't, but you didn't arrive a minute too soon."
"But I did arrive Granger, and I did stop them, and you wiped away their memories. End of that... whatever maladies you suffered, no one will ever know or remember any of that day."
"Good; those bastards both creep me out. And while we're on the subject, I suppose they'll expect me to turn informer. You know I won't do that."
"I figured as much Granger. And I think we can work around that. A few carefully crafted stories will help."
Shaking her head at Malfoy's persistence, she carefully brought the crystal stemware to her lips for a sample of the wine. It was the least she could do and a little wine should have no effect on a full stomach.
"Why are you doing this Malfoy?"
For once, Draco seemed unable to conjure a quick reply.
"And by 'this', you mean placing you on our side?"
"Of course."
"Because... I think you could be a real asset to our side in this war. There are many things you don't know about us Granger, and you've been brainwashed to fill in the gaps. Once you get to know us," he said and raised his glass in a salutary manner, "you might not think us so bad."
Hermione made an disingenuous effort to raise her glass in return.
"I'm sure of it now."
"You're sure of what?" he asked with a trace of humorous amusement.
"You fell on your head that day."
...ooo0O0ooo...
The days moved as slow as treacle in January. There was no news of Blaise and Theo or when they might be returning to the Manor. Of the nature of their mission, Draco had given no clue. She was still waiting for any real work and wondering when her regular meals would resume. It was obvious that Draco was intentionally starving her, so she would have little choice but to frequent his evening banquet table.
She had accepted his hospitality on one more occasion when she was particularly hungry. She had almost balked at the dress as it was a little too scintillating with shining, reflective, fibers. She was no expert but it was clearly over the top for the occasion.
Finally her growling stomach won the argument and she consented. Malfoy was more or less the gentleman on both evenings, but she strongly felt there was something more on his mind besides the food and conversation, which felt contrived and sprinkled with platitudes.
This whole thing felt wrong on so many levels. However long the war might be, she would sit it out. She would be stuck inside these walls while friends risked their life every day. And when she did get out, she'd have to convince her own side she was no traitor. It was most assured that Malfoy and his minions would be spreading rumors that she had turned against the Order.
There were few options left for her now.
One: she would have to turn spy. She still had the books infused with the protean charm and could communicate key information back to the Order. If she was caught this offense would bring her the death penalty. Since she was no longer offering herself to Malfoy for sexual favors, he would have little motivation to stop it this time.
Two: She could end the truce and look for a new way to get rid of Draco Malfoy. Either way, it was another offense punishable by death.
She would turn spy. It was obvious she had no real heart for assassin work. Now, there was only one thing left to do. What to report? Now that she was a member of Draco's Death Eater Ministry, she had no idea what was going on. She'd met with no one but Malfoy since Zabini and Nott had departed.
This was about to change.
Returning from her shower the next morning, she was peeling out of the bathrobe and reaching for a pair of jeans on the bed. There was a note lying there beside the clothes. After she wriggled into the jeans she couldn't wait to read it.
Granger,
We'll be having guests for dinner tonight.
Since you're new, attendance will be mandatory.
Please try to look your best, which will be
more then enough, I'm sure.
Draco.
Cautiously intrigued, Hermione managed her day, which consisted of nearly nothing, as best she could. Who would be the guests? The note had given no clue.
As the hour grew near, she managed to convince Daisy to look at the dress before taking her shower. Very much afraid Malfoy might throw her a zinger with the dress, they hurried to the service room at the end of the long corridor. The man seemed to have no idea of moderation.
On the hanger, the long backless white dress didn't appear overly risque, but it was certainly over the top for a impromptu dinner date. On a second glance, something didn't look quite right. The long thin straps just barely swelled to form two small triangles that were not correctly positioned. Quickly trying it on, her worst fears were realized. The whole thing was simply set too low. It gave an all new meaning to side-boob, and under-boob. In her wildest dreams, she'd never imagined wearing something like this. Without a magical charm, or some form of adhesive, or double-faced tape, it was a sure bet she'd pop out if it before the night was over.
"Why does he do this?" she exclaimed. "No way I'm wearing it!"
Daisy was not immediately able to formulate a reply, but the fear showing in her face spoke loudly enough.
"Miss you must – it's too late for Master to find another."
She'd known all along Draco found and sized her clothing, but Daisy had never let on for a second that she knew anything about it.
"But I won't. The jeans and cardigan will have to do."
"Oh no Miss. Daisy doesn't know much, but she knows you can't do that. Master would be furious. You run along to your shower and I get a message to Mister Draco."
There was a scurrying of house-elves while Hermione basked under hot water. One elf, who Hermione guessed was elected the unfortunate messenger, finally ran off with the news. Lingering under the water until she pruned, she forced herself to get out. Malfoy was standing there behind a curtain of steaming vapors with her robe in his outstretched hand. She jerked it out of his grip and flew into it.
"What the hell?" she demanded.
"So I've heard you have a problem?"
"Oh really - which one?" she parried.
"With the dress of course, Daisy said you won't wear it."
"Are you for real – I wouldn't be caught dead..."
"Look Granger, it's all I've got at this hour. Besides..."
"Look Malfoy... I'm not wearing it. If it were just the two of us, I'd be suspicious. But around people I don't know, I'd break out in hives wearing that."
"Well, for your information it's not people you don't know although one of the them may not know you."
She pulled a face. "Is this a riddle?"
Malfoy shook his head.
"Okay," she said with mock interest. "Who is it then?"
Malfoy paused and then answered timidly.
"Pansy Parkinson and your old friend Stephen Finlayson," he admitted at length.
Hermione's eyes panned wide and her jaw went slack. "I'm not wearing the dress – cause I'm not going."
"Granger, this time I must insist."
"I won't." she asserted stubbornly.
"Look Granger – you're coming, alright? In the dress, in the dressing gown, or completely starkers – I don't really care which, but you're coming."
"You bastard."
"I'll expect you at five till six."
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A/N: As usual, when attempting to formulate my true feeling into an appropriate response, I arrive at a lack of words. So I'll just say this: A big thanks for support and comments from LanaLee1, PuddleInTheFloor, dutch potterfan, Loopygirl1, and ladymagna1100. And finally, to all of those that read - gee thanks. :)
