Disclaimers: It's all JKR's... except Ty, Eva, Swamiji, Sephara, Misty, Serena, Zara, Alisha, Robert, Brian, Noddy and any other OCs. Also, while I'm at it, I disclaim any knowledge of vampires that I haven't absorbed from works like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Twilight (books), Moonlight (series on CBS), Underworld, Van Helsing etc. See a pattern?
Credit to xCailinNollaigx, who makes me grin with every note she kindly and cheerfully sends my way. She wrote 'Bad Hermione! Bad, Bad Hermione' in one of her reviews and I just had to use it. Her writing reverberates with a life of it's own and her WIP The Founder's Heirs is way more popular than this story, do check it out. You'll find her in my favourite authors, along with some fabulous authors I've discovered along the way.
Warnings: 1 This chapter does not have too many dialogues. It 'spans' a month.
2 Use of 'her' and 'she' for the owl is intentional. I perceive 'pets' as beings, not things :)
3 Use of UK English henceforth is intentional. Honour instead of honor/ Grey instead of gray. I'll try to stick to Brit, but if I fall back on the US usage, please do point it out? Also, to the Brit readers out there, please suggest current slang phrases that you think would fit well... I'd be most appreciative of your time and effort. I have bookmarked some Brit Slang dictionaries and HOPE to have time to use them. Right now, I don't even have Internet at my new apt. Am updating from outside! This could mean a while before my next update again :( You've been warned! Hope you enjoy this chapter.
The amazing Dixie Charmer has betaed most of the chapter. Parts with mistakes were probably added AFTER she had betaed.
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(Continued from The Many Shades of Grey)
Battleship, Silver, Rose Quartz and Arsenic
(Shades of Grey)
~ Battleship ~
Hermione proceeded to have the most wonderful day, though the evening brought rather interesting correspondence. She received owls from Minerva McGonagall, Aurora Sinistra and Eva Granger. (The obliviated young girl had chosen her own new name all those years ago.)
Hermione was taken aback that Narcissa had been snooping. She told herself she shouldn't be surprised. She should have been expecting far worse... a pure-blooded zealot standing at her doorstep, hexing Hermione for corrupting Draco... or something vivid like that. She was just relieved that the Slytherin had remained somewhat discrete. Not discrete enough though, if Hogwarts' residents were now surmising their own theories about Narcissa's sudden appearance at Hogwarts, and evident interest in Hermione. Why did she do this? This wagging of tongues is the last thing Draco would want. Hermione shook her head and considered herself warned about Narcissa's nature. She sent Draco a small Burrow owl from the Ministry.
How did it go with your mother this morning?
After about an hour, she was visited by his Eurasian Eagle-owl. So he wants a more secure line of communication. Serapha was a regal and intelligent being with a wing span of over 5 feet; quite capable of protecting herself and her carriage against undesirable advances from acquaintance or foe. Hermione had discovered the majestic bird's weakness quite fortuitously. One evening, Serapha had interrupted a solitary movie-night and tried the offered popcorn with some disdain. The aloof owl had discovered joy and been surprisingly affectionate ever since. Hermione always kept some unsalted natural popcorn at hand at home and office.
Hermione unrolled the scroll and read the very dissatisfactory...
Fine.
Hermione grabbed some parchment.
Details please?
Another hour passed by before Hermione received her response.
Nothing worth mentioning. You should have been there, you would have enjoyed it.
Hermione shook her head once again in exasperation. Draco was being evasive. It couldn't have gone well. At times like this she desperately missed the convenience of a good old phone call. Then again, Draco would so have mastered the art of screening calls and using voicemail as a barrier against relentless females. Dodging a 'meaningful conversation'; men seemed to have an inbuilt gene dedicated solely to that survival skill.
She sighed, when she'd agreed to the baby-making, she hadn't signed up for playing witch's chess with Narcissa. Dealing with the idiosyncrasies of one Malfoy was enough. Researching Runes at the Malfoy library? Yes, the idea was tempting, but Hermione had enough on her plate with her work at the Ministry, overseeing Sanctuary and writing for her columns in the Daily Prophet and now the Quibbler too. While the thought of spending hours in the Malfoy study (researching tomes this time) appealed infinitely to her intellect and curiosity, these other issues at work were much closer to her heart.
As per her nature, Hermione worked out the pros and cons of the situation. The good was that Narcissa seemed to be accepting Hermione, albeit, in her own way. Narcissa seemed to be going out on a limb, offering Hermione valid grounds to frequent the Manor. As much as Hermione appreciated the thought, the conduct troubled her. Narcissa had been presumptuous if she assumed that Hermione would fall in line with her ruse and quit one of her jobs to truly start working for the Malfoys; all without even being consulted. Even if Hermione hadn't been wary about maintaining distance (professionally) from the man who was likely to break her heart in a year's time, she would have been very wary of being manoeuvred around by his mother. Hermione was giving Draco an heir, not signing over her career to the whims of the Malfoys.
She needed Draco to understand her boundaries. Correction, she would like for Narcissa to understand her boundaries. However, the ever-cautious Hermione could estimate the pitfalls of a direct line of communication with Narcissa. No, her communiqué would have to be limited to Draco. At the very least, he ought to be made aware of his mother's actions. Trying to word it as diplomatically as possible, she began another letter.
I would like to know what happened with your mother this morning. She raised quite a few eyebrows at Hogwarts today. Evidently, she discussed me with McGonagall, Sinistra and Snape. Something about me researching Runes in your library and honouring my research while I was in school. My best research was when I skipped seventh year to traverse the planet to off those horcruxes. She would know, you were there.
We all know that this is a front for something else... Perhaps digging info on me? Perhaps warning me off you? Perhaps neither? Who can tell with Malfoys? The loyal Gryffindors have promised not to gossip about Narcissa's sudden interest in me, though they have instructed me to stay on guard. Perhaps you want to pay Snape a visit? And then perhaps you want to grow some balls and ask Narcissa to stay out of our business? You would have been livid if my parents or friends got this 'involved'.
If per chance the idea of me researching Runes in your library was your excuse to explain my presence to your mother... I don't know what to say. Wait, I think I do. Fair attempt, but I already have three jobs, remember? And I do not plan to be seen around the Manor on a regular basis. Not by your mother anyway.
Also, the next time I ask a question, I expect a proper reply.
All right then, not very diplomatic. PMS? Should she tear it up or keep it for future entertainment? Write a sweet little note? Bah! Draco had it coming. "Mother will be fine" indeed. Hermione wondered if she'd best keep an eye out for PIs shadowing her, reporting every move to Narcissa. It did occur to Hermione that she was… possibly… over-reacting. She had been so fiercely independent all her life that she was apprehensive about Narcissa's fierce protectiveness and possessiveness regarding Draco. Harbinger of not-so-pleasant experiences in the future? She'd seen how some of her old muggle girl friends were struggling with the Mamas of their mama's boys. Merlin, she wasn't even getting married, and she had started worrying about 'mother-in-law' issues! You are getting ahead of herself... she assured herself... over-analysing as always, Granger. So she did tear the parchment up, but not before copying parts it. Draco had to be informed about his mother's little excursion, to assess any damage, control it... and hopefully control her. She reread the more benign version.
I gather you are not eager to talk about breakfast, so I won't ask again. I thought I'd fill you in on an interesting development. McGonagall, Sinistra and Snape had the unexpected pleasure of Mrs Malfoy's company today. The former two, at least, seemed rather surprised in their letters. Evidently I was discussed. Something about me researching Runes in your library? Also, something quite imaginative about honouring my research while I was in school, to encourage students. My best research was conducted when I skipped seventh year to traverse the most bloodcurdling locales of the planet; alone with three blokes; after obliviating my parents. Not exactly role-model material if you want to keep the students in school. So I would encourage your mother to desist this approach.
Mrs Malfoy, you and I, we all know that this is about something else... Unfortunately, Minerva and Aurora have guessed as much, as well. I share a healthy relationship with the Gryffindor professors, and they have kindly volunteered to keep the contents of the conversation private, to avoid idle chatter. Snape is discrete enough, but perhaps you need to have some conversations as well?
A little more diplomatic. Hopefully, Draco would not take offence. Yes, it would have to do. She sent the letter with a highly-carbed Serapha who had acquired unrestrained access to the popcorn box while Hermione was distracted.
A somewhat subdued Serapha returned a few hours later. Hermione hastily extricated the letter from her pointed talons.
I'll take care of it.
Mi, don't have a heart~attack thinking about this, right? I'll see you tomorrow evening.
Hermione read the lines over and over again, trying to ascertain his mood. It seemed like he'd added the latter part as an afterthought, to assuage her fears. He'd succeeded decidedly well. He'd called her 'Mi' again. Sigh. For an incomprehensible reason, that made up for everything. Feeling distinctly better, she turned towards the quiet bird, who was uncharacteristically scuttled in a corner. Usually, Sephara fluffed and flaunted her gorgeous self, and walked up to the cupboard where Hermione kept the popcorn, trying to open it with her beak and talons. Now, the bird despondently refused the popcorn in favour of some water and a traditional owl treat. When Hermione suggested the owl return home since there was no reply, Sephara ducked her head under a wing, pretending to be asleep. Hermione set out her shawl and bowl of water for the bird to rest on and then went up to bed, still in contented wonder about the transition from Mud-blood to Mi.
~ Silver ~
As promised, Draco visited the following evening. They didn't go into details but he mentioned that there had been a discussion the night before and there would be no Hermione Granger Scholarship at Hogwarts, none sponsored by the Malfoys at least.
"I don't want to draw any more attention to us than necessary. The other thing makes sense, in a way. You conducting research at the Manor's library is good cover. I despise being manipulated by mother this way, but she has a point. All right, all right, don't get your knickers in a twist. And do not obsess over it anymore." Draco said he'd taken care of it and Hermione trusted him. Then Draco started talking about random things and Hermione took her cue from.
They talked about their day, he put his feet up on her ottoman, requested her to massage his scalp and neck because he had a slight headache. When it got better after a while, he kissed her "magic fingers", they had Italian food with the lovely Merlot that he brought, Hermione introduced Draco to full-length movies with Notting Hill, he loved it, they had a wonderful evening... and a fortnight that was better still.
Draco often dropped by or owled her to floo over to his room in the Manor at specific times. They fell into a relaxed pattern, their relationship predictably fiery and unpredictably effortless… and fun. Who knew that between holier-than-thou Granger and dark-as-the-night Malfoy, so many laughs could be had? One evening Draco fell off the couch holding his sides, while watching Mickey Blue Eyes. He even got over his proper self to laugh at Zoolander. It had already been established that Coupling and Friends reruns could force him to projectile liquids. Good, she deserved the revenge. Hermione loved that she was bringing some light-hearted moments into his life. She hadn't introduced him to the Action genre yet, she figured she'd spare herself that headache for a bit. Once Harry found out that Draco had started watching movies, there would be war sagas and Bond-flicks being owled to her duplex all day long. Till then, she enjoyed her peace.
Draco surprised her in a multitude of ways, thoughtful and material. The following weekend he took her to château in a small town in France. They spent the gorgeously sunny weekend walking around the town's streets, beach and indoor public market. It was winter, so there were no tourists, only the local population living their daily lives. The local muggle population remained blissfully ignorant regarding the couple's real identities; they gossiped amply about the honeymooning 'Smith' couple.
In the market, Hermione struck up a conversation with a shy but talented teenage girl who was working on an oil-on-canvas that depicted the lively marché in black and white. Even though the painting wasn't completely done yet, it was particularly captivating; it drew in the audience, almost bringing to life the sights and sounds of the French country-life; reminding one to slow down, smell the herbs, indulge in a patisserie, go for a long walk and un café with a friend. That weekend, they did all that and more, spending what Hermione considered 'quality' time… bonding, being. For the first time in her career, Hermione understood the hitherto unknown dread of the 'Sunday Evening Blues'.
The week that followed had some more salient moments. When Hermione got back to her apartment Wednesday evening, the Grey-scape from the village marché was hanging on her bedroom wall. On her gorgeous, pearl-grey, newly painted, velvety smooth wall. The wall that had been an uninspiring beige this morning. There were curtains draping her till-now bare windows; rich, midnight-blue raw-silk, with silver details, layered over a sheer taupe Grey to let the light in. Her bed was swathed in linen a colour of charcoal that was somehow... wistful? Accents of silver lined her walls. Accessories in blues ranging from midnight to sapphire dotted her room... incarnated in pillows, candles and a set of empty photo-frames on her bedside tables. There was a scroll on her bed that she ran to pick up.
A little Zen for you.
Hermione smiled a sigh. She had been meaning to give some kind of theme to her room for the longest time, but never got around to it. Earlier, this had been just an empty space littered with paraphernalia from her hectic life. Draco, with a flick of his very elegant wrist had created a serene haven for her. He seemed to be filling up many of the empty spaces in her life.
Hermione realised that she could get used to his generous side. After all, everyone has to make some compromises. Relationships are just so hard.
~ Rose Quartz ~
The Saturday after that, Hermione took Draco to a gypsy fair in Romania, where they spent a carefree afternoon enjoying another sunny day. They walked around the fair contently, sampling traditional foods and admiring the colourful wares- some rare, some commonplace, displayed in the treasure-filled stalls. Hermione bought a vibrant red silk scarf that she insisted on paying for. She laughed when they passed the fortuneteller's tent; the old gypsy took one look at the scarf in Hermione's hand and winked at Draco. So she could foresee the plans Hermione had for the scarf? Hermione blushed and refused to answer the query in Draco's raised brow, and challenged him to a game of aiming rings instead. She lost spectacularly but at least he was sidetracked and he won an adorable white unicorn toy for her. It was the only material gift she left with that weekend. She came home with memories of much laughter, and felt much richer for those. In Draco's company our Gryffindor bookworm found a kinship that she hadn't experienced with anyone before. Sure, Harry and Ron were her best friends, but with Draco she felt something different. Like she could never get enough. Like she could call him home. If he let her.
BAD Hermione! Bad, BAD Hermione! Don't you DARE go there!
As rose-tinted as her glasses were these days, Hermione was under no illusions. She clearly comprehended the demands of their psyches and bodies. They were experiencing the honey-mood phase, a surge of pheromones, evolution's dictate to procreate and Bob's your uncle. Still, it was a well-received high; she had no complaints with evolution's conniving right now. Evolution could dictate her hormones all it wanted, all day, every day! Not the most propitious of sentiments to behold, in view of his travel plans for the following weeks.
The very next morning, Draco was to embark on his Quidditch tour to Australia and New Zealand. The vampire situation was still unresolved, though the conflict had been limited to that one town near Sydney. Thankfully, the vampire population in the rest of the world recognized the danger created when such attacks threatened their clandestine existence. If the muggle world was to find proof of vampirism, mass genocide of vampires and innocents alike, would be rampant. Suspected individuals would be hunted like witches in earlier centuries, without trials or explanations.
Hermione had her own assortment of concerns. Draco was supposed to play a few games in the wizard town of Ozislike, near Sydney. This would be a high profile event. If the truant vampires wanted to make a statement, it could be a visible platform for them. Thankfully the games usually ended well before daylight waned. Still, Hermione didn't like Draco going there. She couldn't ask him not to go, so she asked him to be careful, as they got ready for bed that night.
"I'll be fine Mi, though I will admit, this concern is quite flattering. Who knew that you cared a hippogriff's bullock about me? Then again, how could you not? I mean, look at this striking face," Draco fluttered his long lashes flirtatiously, "this dashing body," he lifted up his t-shirt and patted his washboard abs proudly, "this feline grace"... he put a confident hand in her mid-back and in a smooth dance-like sway had her bent backwards while he planted a most surprising kiss on her now tingling lips. "And how can any witch, strike that, any woman resist this arresting personality?" He removed the supporting hand behind her back so she stumbled backwards, landing with a thump on her bed.
Once the stars cleared away, Hermione chuckled at his silliness, in awe that Draco Malfoy had let go of his austere self-restraint long enough to be silly! With her!! Hoorah!!! She got up to gently punch his shoulder; "I'm using you for sex and a baby, Malfoy, of course I care about the equipment. Don't let it get to your uninvolved head. By the way, how does it feel to be the used, rather than the user?"
"Delightful. If this is how spiffing being used feels, I wonder why I have such a notorious reputation with the parents of the female population. My actions should be considered a most munificent act of public service." He tilted his head to a side and put on a perplexed expression. Hermione couldn't help but snort. She was in front of the mirror tying her hair up in a ponytail when he came to stand behind her.
"Why you insist on formalities like dressing and tying your hair up before bed, I'll never understand. You know it's all coming off in moments, right?"
Hermione smiled at him in the mirror, "Don't you need to conserve your strength for Quidditch?"
In a swoop of blurred motion, Draco had picked her up, thrown her over his shoulder and carried her over to the bed where he very unceremoniously proceeded to throw her. "I don't know when I'll get to shag your extremely delectable self again Granger. Of course I don't need to conserve strength. If anything, I need to bank as many shags as I can, a memory reserve to draw upon on cold, floozy-less nights, now that I am promised to you and you alone, for a year."
There were parts of the statement that made Hermione grin. There were details that her brain sorted away for later perusal. At this moment she wanted to grin. Hermione spent the evening becoming wholly ingratiated to Draco for his most munificent acts of public service. And paid him using her new red scarf in the most inventive ways. Draco Malfoy liked bondage? Hah! She could blackmail him with this for… like, ever!
~)(~
Hermione soon discovered that she didn't like Draco being away on a tour. Yes, they could arrange international floo, but they couldn't without risk of exposing their alliance. That Draco Malfoy was flooing regularly to Hermione Granger's apartment at odd hours and almost every day, could catch someone's attention at the Flu Network office. So they used that avenue only once a week. Trans-Continental apparition was a skill that the four teenagers had managed during their year in hiding from Voldemort; but doing it on a regular basis was never advisable. It left one quite dizzy and spent. So they could only do that once a week too. That made it a grand total of meeting twice a week. At this rate, she'd only be able to meet him about a 100 times in the whole year. No, she didn't have to like this.
Hermione couldn't floo to his hotel because his teammates had the most annoying habit of partying till late at night, a convention Draco had led them into. So his regular absence from said partying would be duly noted. As it is, he'd mentioned they were all laughing themselves silly over how he hadn't taken any witch up to his room in ages.
Theoretically, Draco could floo every night to his Manor and then Hermione could join him there, but the time difference was a major inconvenience. Sydney was 11 hours ahead of London. During his day, her night, he was busy with matches or practice. During his night, her day, she was working and he was busy with publicity, networking and socialising (partying). It was a mandatory aspect of his life-style, one he averred to detest with passion. When he wasn't busy with the aforementioned, he was resting after a physically gruelling day. The times they managed to meet were downright remarkable. Hermione even started a journal, she didn't want to forget any of these memories. She captured them in prose and sometimes even in poems.
January flew by. The first weekend of February found her at Sanctuary. Most of the older children were at school so Hermione could concentrate on playing with the few young children. Serena sincerely informed Hermione that she looked different and happy, and then proceeded to regale her with the events of the past month while skipping on a rope. Hermione stayed after dinner to tuck the girls into bed, who then implored her to read for them. Hermione accioed a much-used copy of 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. Little Zara insisted that Hermione lie next to her and Hermione gave in. She lay there on top of the Tinker Bell-themed quilt, thinking how she may have a daughter of her own in a year's time. As Hermione gently rescued Zara's thumb from her mouth, she wondered if she was capable of loving her own child anymore than she loved some of the children here. It didn't seem possible. She still wanted to go through the whole pregnancy experience though, she WANTED to bear Draco's child. The thought filled her with indescribable emotions, a tenderness she couldn't define and a passion she couldn't categorise.
At work, as always, Hermione was completely absorbed and professional. Not a peep to the world about her enamoured status. It helped that these days her work was quite engaging. The Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shaklebolt, had asked her to liaise with similar departments in other European countries. The ambition was to help some narrower-minded societies witness how well the new, more equitable laws of British wizarding world were succeeding. For this, she worked closely with Percy Weasley in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. It required thorough gathering of statistical data, putting together accurate reports that depicted the state of relations between the various magical creatures, and writing convincing arguments to support the desirable changes. Work that both detail-oriented, cerebral individuals enjoyed.
Sometimes it frustrated Hermione how obstinate people could be, how set in their ways and sure of their righteousness. How blind!? Sometimes, she was rewarded for her labours by the opening of closed doors and the thank-you owls she received from the socially deprived who benefited from her efforts. She also got Howlers and threats from those who thought her to be an interfering know-it-all. She had long since learnt to check her mail for hexes and bubotuber pus. Draco assured her that it just meant she was doing her job right.
One cold Monday morning, Hermione flooed into the Ministry to find it bathed in pink. Pink hearts, pink taffeta, pink crepe paper, pink-dyed owls delivering pink envelopes, scrolls and packages. Flowers everywhere. Oh, Valentines'! I wonder if I'll see Draco. The thought leaped in unbidden. She tethered it out of sight, not securely enough.
Hermione's assistant, Alisha, an efficient, energetic and entertaining girl in her early twenties with beautiful ebony skin and long curly tresses, greeted her as she entered her office. Thankfully, there was no pink to be seen. Alisha knew her well. "Good morning boss! There's a pile of mail on your desk. You have an appointment with Robert Cresswell at 10 a.m. regarding some changes to the Goblin inheritance act. Can I come in and take the minutes for that meeting? He looks so dashing in his muggle suit! You would so under-utilize your time with him, it would shame St. Valentine."
Hermione grinned at the young girl's unmalicious exuberance. Robert was the Head of the Goblin Liaison Office. Incidentally, he was also the elder son of Dirk Cresswell, who had served as the Head of the Goblin Liaison Office till Voldemort had overthrown the ministry. After that, the Muggle-born Registration Commission had attempted to send Dirk Cresswell to Azkaban, but the talented wizard had escaped by stunning Dawlish. He had gone into hiding with some goblins, Dean Thomas and Ted Tonks- Nymphadora's father. Sadly, Ted Tonks, Dirk Cresswell and many of the Goblins were eventually discovered and murdered by Death Eaters. That had been a terrible loss to the Wizarding world.
Proving himself to be as brilliant and diplomatic as his father in working with the clever Goblins, Robert Cresswell had made quite a name for himself. Hermione, who had enjoyed the occasional work-lunch with Robert, looked disapprovingly at Alisha.
"Weren't you the one who told me last year that Bob was dating Susan Bones? And did you forget in that very special way you have, that he proposed to her at Christmas? You sent out over 20 inter-departmental memos that day, if I recall correctly."
Alisha kindly brought some coffee into the office, shaking her head, "I know, I know, but I'm telling you, if you'd used your time with him productively, that 1 karat bling could have been yours. For such a smart woman, sometimes boss, you just don't see what's right in front of your pert nose. He was so into you, but you never gave him a chance. Never mind, no use crying over stolen Martinis. How's the guy that sent you these flowers? Any good?"
"What? Which guy?" Hermione glanced up from her pile of correspondence, in expectant elation.
"The guy who sent you those." Alisha nodded at the white roses set in a vase in the centre of her desk. Alisha often brought flowers for their office and Hermione had assumed that she had brought them in today as well. Hermione reached for the card on the flowers in anticipation
It was simple and sweet.
Thinking of you,
Brian
Brian?? It took Hermione a moment to mask her disappointment, and then another to place Brian. Oh! Bridgit's cousin ... whom she'd first met at the New Year's party at the Burrow. They had met a couple of times after that, at impromptu Weasley family dinners thrown together by the Twins, whose wives were great hostesses. Hermione had never heard them complain about the Quaffles that broke windows and china every week; or the hoards of family and friends that descended in regular shamelessness at the pitch between their adjoining houses. Brian got along well with his cousin and her still undomesticated husband, so he too dropped by frequently.
Brian was also considered a scholar amongst the academic circles in the ministry, for his expertise in Gaelic magic, mysteries and legends. She'd bumped into him several times over the past month. Couple of those times, they'd had lunch. Oh! So she had spent considerable time with him after all. Had he taken it as a sign of interest? He'd never expressed interest in dating her before, so she was surprised, to say the least.
Hermione was a little flattered, but also a little disgruntled. This would be awkward. They had gotten along quite well, so if she shunned Brian's advances, Bridgit and Ginny would wonder why; if not directly confront her about it. She had an exclusivity clause with Draco to honour, so she couldn't go out with Brian either. Sigh. Well, at least he hadn't asked her out yet, so maybe if she just ignored the flowers, it would all go away. If Brian had been discrete about it, the Weasleys might remain none-the-wiser.
"So, who is he?" Alisha asked brazenly. Alisha had been working with Hermione for three years and they had developed an excellent working relationship. Alisha was a squib who refused to fade into anonymity. She did her job exceedingly well, was punctual, loyal and had excellent people skills. However, Alisha had what Hermione affectionately considered 'compromised personal boundaries'… no inhibitions whatsoever regarding sharing personal infomation, not that Hermione usually minded.
Despite her lack of magic, Alisha was Hermione's link to the Wizarding world; the inside source to the political stage-management that went on behind-the-scenes (gossip!). It had been Alisha who had first warned Hermione that Marietta Edgecombe was spying on her flooing activities and passing the information to a trashy tabloid. Marietta was the Chief Magineer for the Floo Network at the Ministry and her colleague's sister baby-sat Alisha's friends' neighbour's niece. Or something like that. Apparently Marietta still held a grudge against Hermione for the pimples that had spelt 'sneak' on her face, after she had betrayed the DA's secret to Umbridge. Really!?! That had been a decade ago!
A few days after this rumour was confirmed, Marietta's supervisor received an anonymous tip and subsequently found serious aberrations in Marietta's records. Marietta's magineering skills had been abruptly required at the plumbing department of Magical Plant's Endangered Magical Mushroom wing in a suburb far, far away. Had anyone tried to analyse the handwriting on the anonymous letter, it would have seemed remarkably similar to Alisha's. No one had bothered and Marietta's mother had swept the topic under old forgotten rugs. Fortunately that had been two years ago. The war heroes' floo records had been made classified since, only accessible to the officials of the highest administrative level. Still, one never knew. Hermione shuddered to think what the tabloids would make of her flooing activities this past month!
Hermione looked at the card on the flowers and briefed Alisha on Brian. Her own lack of interest easily conveyed in her tone. This met Alisha's disapproval, "Girl, you need to go out and have some fun!"
Hermione smiled at that. She was having fun all right. She's had loads of fun with Draco this Saturday. He still bore bruises from the handcuffs she'd bought for him.
He'd got the melted chocolate. And cream.
Hermione shook her head and brought herself back to the present. Fortunately an interdepartmental notice had made a rough landing on Alisha's desk and the young girl's attention was diverted from the inquisition into Hermione's personal life.
Hermione glanced at the flowers and wished they'd been from someone else. She wondered if Draco would visit for a while, or send an exorbitant gift that she'd have to complain about… or an owl, with a message to floo over to the manor. She wondered if he planned to surprise her with a tryst to another hidden-away place where no one knew them. She'd quite forgotten about Valentine's Day, so she'd have to go get him some gift during lunch. She hoped he didn't show up before that, after all, it must already be 14th night in Australia. She went through all her mail and started preparing for her day.
At lunch she went to Diagon Alley to pick up a gift for Draco. She didn't want to get anything too 'romantic'. She wasn't expecting a gift from him, per say. They didn't have that kind of relationship. This was not a courtship, she kept reminding herself. This is just baby-making protocol, he owes you nothing, especially not for Valentines. He owes you no romance. Still, just in case he did get her something, she wanted to have something for him too. So she got him a pair of tasteful silver cufflinks from a collectibles store. Unimaginative, perhaps, but at least nothing that said 'clingy'. Hopefully, something that he could wear and think of her. She didn't doubt he had better, more expensive cufflinks, still, wasn't it the thought that mattered? Besides, these were returnable, just in case. After all, with the time difference, it was already about 1am, February 15th in Sydney by now. Perhaps he got busy with 'promo' parties? The Daily Prophet had reported yesterday that they had won a big match against the Thundelarra Thunderers.
Since Draco had become their seeker, and insisted on whipping their lenient training drill into shape, the Chudley Cannons had started to redeem their name little by little. Within a few months of joining the team, Draco had bought it, hired a new coach, revamped the management and most essentially for him, got rid of the "abhorring" orange in the logo and robes that "clashed" with his hair. He had seriously considered changing the team colours to grey and green, but the indignant team, a blustering Ron and the protesting fans convinced him otherwise. Now, instead of the bright orange, the robes sported the pale gold of his beloved mane.
In a few years, the team had regained much of its historic glory. They had even gathered enough gumption to reinstate their former club motto "We shall conquer"… a significant improvement over the "Let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best" that they had resignedly changed it to in 1972.
Owing to his great track record, Draco had been invited to play for the UK National Team more than a few times, but he had always graciously declined. Hermione had inquired why he didn't take his Quidditch career up the notch to the national level. He stated that he was in the leagues for the joy of the game, and for the times the urge to 'get serious' hit him, he had the Malfoy business.
That February 14th, Hermione found herself looking up expectantly anytime an owl or a person entered her office. Neither Draco nor Sephera made an appearance. Feeling just a little perturbed, Hermione headed home. She didn't pick up any food, just in case Draco showed up with dinner or plans. She entered her quiet duplex and checked all the rooms. No Draco, no note. She took a bath. Nothing. She ordered pizza with extra cheese and a chocolate fudge brownie with extra chocolate. At 12:01 am, February 15th, Hermione finally admitted to herself that he wasn't coming. Or owling. It would now be 11a.m., February 15th in Sydney. There was to be no acknowledgement of Valentine's Day for them. This is how she should have expected it to be. It stung a little.
It stung a lot. He couldn't bother enough to send her a note. Brian wasn't even shagging her and he'd still managed that. Hermione took the cufflinks out of the gift box she's wrapped them in and returned them to the original packaging. She would return them tomorrow. Or give them to Brian… she thought rebelliously.
~ Arsenic ~
Hermione woke up feeling a little off. It took her a few moments to discern the feeling as malcontent. She went down to check if there was an owl from Draco, but by now knew not to expect it. Disparaging of her inanity, she picked up the newspaper. The picture accompanying the headline portrayed Harry with many other wizards and witches walking around busily. Serious discussions seemed to be underway. In the background, people (with their faces covered) were being taken into custody. Everyone looked tired. The headline screamed:
Vampires Slain! As much as Hermione wanted to read that story, another article, though much smaller, jumped off the page in big bold letters. ___ Draco Malfoy and D'Lo celebrate Valentine's Day together ___ A picture of Draco held her vision. He had his arm around a fair, dazzling, ash blonde. They were laughing and walking together on a quiet, pristine beach. The two seemed carefree and to anyone who saw this picture - in love. Draco would take his hand away from her waist to hold her hand. She would smile at him as if she could eat him up... and the loop repeated itself every few seconds. ___ Have the debonair billionaire and the sultry singer finally found their perfect some ones? Captured here in a titillating moment, they are seen strolling outside Lorraine D'Angelo villa in the elite Sydney neighbourhood of Steep Hills. Enjoying the pleasant morning breeze after a hot summer night? Contd. on Pg. 3
Officials of the Australian Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures (A.D.R.C.M.C.), Australian Magical Law Enforcement (A.M.L.E.) officers and Aurors from both countries join forces to take down the vampires of Tasmanhaven, Australia
___