Thank you to Alexa Mileva-my beta-for editing this chapter, hopefully more to come!
Hermione forced a smile at McLaggen as he opened the car door and offered his hand. For a few nights, before her shows, McLaggen insisted on taking her out to dinner to converse with his other companions usually consisting of Alecto Carrow and her brother, Amycus, Bellatrix Lestrange and Bartimus Crouch Jr., as well as the pug-nosed. Pansy Parkinson and whatever man she felt like bringing that night. Although, she spent more time hanging on McLaggen's words than she did her consort, giving Hermione half a mind to just let her have him.
These dinners were useless to her now; McLaggen was no longer an interest, however, he refused to let her out of his reach. Despite her many excuses, McLaggen dragged her to lavish dinners, thrilling races, and even his home. Thankfully, he was always drunk by the time they got there, and she managed to leave without him remembering the next day. She'd never met anyone so persistent in his pursuit of women.
Tonight, he brought her to the Westin Hotel that housed a pure white dining hall with a pianist playing soft melodies in the corner of the room. McLaggen led her to a secluded table near the wall, where Bellatrix, Pansy, Alecto and Amycus sat. Bellatrix watched Hermione sit down across from her at the table, as her date began talking animatedly, leaving the women to converse amongst themselves. She took a drag from her cigarette holder and blew the smoke into the air above them.
"How are you this evening, Miss Granger?" she questioned, tapping her fag against the ash tray.
Hermione smiled at her, "Very well, and yourself?"
"The company has suddenly turned sour," she answered stiffly.
"I can't help but agree," Pansy murmured so only Hermione could hear. She took a sip of her wine as an attempt to hide her smirk. It did not work.
"Bella, don't be so rude!" Alecto scolded, then turned to Hermione with a soft smile "She is a little miffed that Riddle couldn't accompany her tonight."
Hermione couldn't help but shiver as she recalled her last encounter with the snake. Thankfully, this time she didn't have to be subjected to his ravenous gaze.
"Get stuffed, Alecto," Bellatrix snapped, narrowing her eyes at her friend, "That's none of your business and certainly none of hers."
Alecto waved her hand nonchalantly, brushing away her warning, "He was to meet with some friends to discuss business."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione tried to sound sincere.
Bellatrix huffed in acknowledgement and took another drag from her fag.
Alecto shook her head at her company before resting her elbows on the table and setting her chin on her entwined hands. She looked fondly at Hermione.
"Are you to sing tonight?"
Hermione smiled. Alecto was kind enough to her, although she acted like one of those gossiping-giggling girls that surrounded her during school. However, she was much better company than the two pejorative women beside her.
"Yes, but not here," she explained, "I'm singing at the Ivory, a few blocks down the way."
"Is that all you do?" Pansy questioned, the insinuation hanging in the air between the two, "Singing…?"
"Yes," Hermione said curtly, "But I do quite well. Many hotels and music halls ask for me and pay me well."
"Is that where you met Cormac – singing?" Alecto asked, "How romantic ― meeting him as you sing!"
Bellatrix laughed at Alecto with a raised eyebrow, "A little juvenile, wouldn't you say?"
"Not at all!" she gasped, surprised at the notion, "Lord only knows that you need a romance in your life."
"Love is fickle," Bellatrix drawled out, "Who honestly needs love, nowadays?"
A lump filled Hermione's throat upon hearing the statement. She told Harry and Draco what Ginny confided in her and Blaise provided information of his own he'd picked up here and there.
Another World War.
As a child, it seemed that fear consumed everything around them, choking the happiness around them. Loved ones going off to fight, leaving behind doubts of their return. To think that it could happen again…it was devastating.
"Is that what you will be wearing to sing?"
Hermione glanced at Pansy who was giving her ruched pale pink dress a critical look.
"Uh, no," she said, "I have a dress at the Ivory,"
That was a lie, of course; why wear two dresses the same night when one would suffice? She had money, yes ― to pay for her room and her food. What was left she kept to herself, not feeling the need to waste money when she could save it for a rainy day. But being surrounded by people like Bellatrix, Alecto and Pansy, it was hard not to be intimidated by wealth. Alecto was living off her deceased husband's money and family wealth; Bellatrix came from old money and with her arm draped across Riddle's most of the time, she was kept in jewels and elegant garbs; and Pansy… Pansy was the spoiled girl with a line of lovers willing to spend any amount to remain in her good graces.
"Well," Pansy drawled out, "You should consider a personal dresser."
And yours is doing a tremendous job, Hermione thought, eyeing Pansy's fur wrap, pink peplum dress and layered pearl and diamond necklaces.
"Wherever I sing they are considerate enough to provide someone to help me get ready for the night," Hermione stated, ignoring her stare, "And I believe I'm old enough to dress myself."
Alecto laughed, "Well, you dress well from what I've seen of other singers."
Pansy turned away, snapping at a waiter to refill her glass.
"I do well for myself," she exclaimed humbly, "I am at the point where I have the freedom to choose where and when I want to sing."
"At least you're independent," Bellatrix commented, but the look she gave her was almost mocking.
"I'm not one to idly sit around and do nothing while life passes me by."
Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, as if challenging her, "Really?"
"Yes," she answered with a smile, "And with so much money you can afford to, as well,"
Alecto gave a nervous laugh as the women stared each other down, "I can drink to the good life…what about you, ladies?"
Despite the hostile stares she was receiving from Bellatrix and Pansy, Alecto made the evening more enjoyable. McLaggen and Amycus were too absorbed in their own conversations and their own drinks to notice the resentment between the girls.
McLaggen brushed up against her as they walked down the street, the liquor in him starting to take effect. They were steps away from the back entrance of the Ivory and Hermione was beginning to regret her decision to walk to the hotel now that she had a tipsy man running into her at every moment.
"Such a beautiful night, isn't it?" he cried loudly looking up into the sky.
"Yes it is," she said, not sparing him a glance. Instead, she searched the streets for a cab to take him home.
"I could stare up there all day,"
"You might, McLaggen."
Hermione jumped at the voice that spoke up from behind her. Before she could turn around, two strong hands wrapped around her arms and pulled her away from McLaggen. She looked frantically around her.
"Don't fret miss," drawled out the voice, "We just want a quick chat with McLaggen."
The voice belonged to a portly man who looked much like an overstuffed rat. His graying hair was oiled back and he wore an expensive looking tuxedo and carried a black walking cane. Aside from the man who was restraining her arms, another was holding up McLaggen against the rough brick wall of the building. They stared blankly at the rat-faced man as he stepped towards McLaggen.
"Now, McLaggen," he lifted his cane, bringing it to rest on his shoulder, "What are we to do with you?"
"McLaggen squinted in an attempt to focus on the face swimming before his eyes. "Pettigrew?"
The man chuckled at the drunk, "And now the boy is coherent!"
McLaggen gave him an uneasy smile, "Listen, I told Riddle—"
"—Three weeks ago," Pettigrew filled in for him, uninterested.
"Yes, that I'll have the money to him by the end of the month…"
"And that was last week," he said, now bored of the conversation, "I've been gracious enough by giving you an extra week, but my patience is wearing quite thin."
Pettigrew's cane lifted up to rest on McLaggen's neck, pressing lightly against his windpipe. Hermione struggled against her captor's hold, as McLaggen gasped for breath.
"Leave him alone," she cried, watching McLaggen's face turn red.
Pettigrew stared at her for a moment before grinning. His leering smile made her skin crawl with disgust. She could practically read the impure thoughts that crossed his mind as he studied her from head to toe.
"All we would like to do is get the money that he so desperately needs to pay back," he explained slowly, "Merely…business between colleagues."
"Do most business transaction consist of a cane to a man's throat?" she doubted.
His smile grew and he lifted the cane off of McLaggen's throat, falling to the ground coughing. Pettigrew paid him no heed, but directed his attention to Hermione.
"Oh, McLaggen chose a feisty girl, this time around," he approved. "I love a girl with spirit."
"Keep looking then," she sneered, "I'm unavailable at the moment."
"With McLaggen?" Pettigrew questioned skeptically.
She shrugged her shoulders, "Have to pass the time somehow."
He let out a deep chuckle, a hand reaching out to stroke her skin, "How could he get a bird like you…?"
Before he could brush his fingers against her, a loud 'Oi!' rang through the night.
Pettigrew glared at the owner, but Hermione was grateful for the interruption. She turned to send some sort of a 'thank you' look, but what she saw almost made her legs give out.
Draco…
"What the bloody hell do you think you are doing?" he questioned, quickly advancing forward.
"Private business," Pettigrew snapped, squaring his shoulders and pointing his cane at the intruder.
Draco's eyes traveled over the stubby man and connected with Hermione's. She tried to glare at him but she knew that he wouldn't fall for it. Not when fear was so clearly written on her face. She didn't like feeling trapped, and the man's confining grip on her forearms only made matters worse. She felt like a caged bird with clipped wings. But Draco could see right through her. He always had.
Pettigrew eyed him then glanced over at Hermione with a sickening smile and Hermione gave him a cold stare in return. It was a long moment of silence before Pettigrew announced his decision.
"I guess we can leave the lady out of it."
With a tug of her arm, she broke free of the henchman's hold, only to be pulled next to Draco's side. She was glad to be out of the hands of the stranger, but being near Draco…too many emotions was boiling inside of her, and all from being within a couple inches of him.
"Here," Draco dropped a couple of notes onto the street, "For the chap's cab ride."
Pettigrew nodded his thanks but his eyes were still fixed on Hermione, giving her a lustful gaze that made her inwardly squirm.
"I hope to see you again, dearie."
"I'll be waiting with bated breath," she answered sarcastically.
She turned away quickly and made her way toward the stage door, with Draco close behind.
"What the hell were you doing with him?" Draco hissed.
"Pettigrew was asking for his money back," she said, ignoring him as she stepped through the back stage door. She was greeted by a few people rushing past her and the sound of the band playing. "Maybe that's why they have him under his belt."
Draco shook his head angrily, "He's a loan shark, that's what he does."
Hermione glared at him stopping outside her dressing room door, "I understand that was who he is, but that is why McLaggen is connected to everything, he is paying off his debt by being the fall guy."
"Why were you with him?" he pressed, following her into the room and closing the door.
"Why is it any of your concern?"
"Because you could have gotten hurt."
"I think I proved that I can handle myself multiple times, Malfoy, and don't need you around playing the hero!"
"I'm not playing the hero; I'm making sure you stay alive."
She spun around, rage flashing across her eyes. "I think you lost that right when you decided to leave."
"Granger," he sighed, avoiding her gaze, "We're not—"
"Yes, we are!" she snapped advancing on him, "I have waited long enough for the answers you don't want to tell me, you can give that much!"
"I can't—"
"You won't," she cried. "You won't say anything to me! You think I can forget but I can't."
Draco looked up at her and his heart clenched when he saw the tears brimming her eyes. He wanted to turn away and leave, but the look of her face kept him in place.
"Why did you leave?" she asked desperately. "What happened to make you leave me alone in our house? You didn't write a note, talk to me, anything! You claim to love me and that you wanted to be with me but you don't respect me enough to say anything to me."
She was on the verge of hysteria and Draco couldn't turn away. Just like Hermione, his emotions were boiling in the pit of his stomach and he was so close to letting the dam break.
"Was I really just a conquest to you?"
He gapped at her, "No, you were—"
"Then why did you leave me?" she yelled at him.
"BECAUSE HE WAS GOING TO KILL YOU!"
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Thanks again Alexa!