When Hermione awoke, Draco's legs were draped over hers, cutting off all blood supply to her legs. He was fast asleep – but still smirking, even while dreaming. Hermione found it adorable. It was yet another sign how far she had fallen.
Her stomach let out a traitorous growl, reminding her about how little she'd eaten at supper.
"Draco," she whispered.
"Mmm?"
"You're kind of pinning me."
"Mmm, yeah, pin me baby," he mumbled, "that's hot."
Hermione reached out and tried to shove his leg off. It was heavier than it looked, and he kept giggling in his sleep every time her hands brushed against his pale skin.
"Draco, really, I need to use the loo... and I'm really hungry."
He grunted. "Mmm... there are sweets in your room."
A tremor of uncertainty rippled through her. Was this a less than subtle hint that she should leave him? That, like all the other girls, he wanted her out of his room? His snide voice echoed in her head - "I never let the girls stay overnight. They might get... ideas. Romance. Weddings. Gold-digging. That sort of thing."
But no... not after what had happened last night. Not after their walk on the balcony. Not after he'd admitted wanting her for months. No, that old Draco was gone, she was fairly certain.
Finally, he slipped his legs off hers. He immediately went back to sleep. She wriggled her toes until the feeling in them returned, then rolled out of bed. As she did so, Draco spluttered back into consciousness for a moment.
"Don't forget the contraceptive."
She felt an inexplicable ache at that comment. Why? It wasn't as if she wanted to get pregnant, not in the least; but she didn't want to hear him mention it first thing after shagging. In that weirdly awkward, vulnerable period after a first shag, she wanted hugs, reassurances, and, if she was really feeling optimistic, a declaration of love.
As he began to snore again, she padded out the door. After a quick trip to the loo, she tiptoed downstairs, hoping to find a house-elf willing to procure a snack.
Instead, she accidentally wandered into the Malfoy gallery again, each portrait glowering down at her.
"Aren't you worried, Miss Granger, walking around the manor at night alone?"
Lucius Malfoy's voice made her jump. When she spun around, he was standing two metres behind her. She hadn't heard him approach.
As she thought about it, she realized that she actually wasn't afraid of Malfoy Manor, not after spending the day with Narcissa and Draco. She smiled happily to herself. How could she be afraid when she and Draco had just slept together upstairs in his Quidditch-themed boyhood bedroom?
"What could you possibly be doing awake at this time of night, Miss Granger?" Lucius asked silkily.
She swallowed; a thread of nervousness wicked through her. Draco and Narcissa were one thing; Lucius was an entirely different creature. She didn't trust him whatsoever.
"I, erm, got hungry," Hermione stuttered.
He lifted one eyebrow. "I can lead you to the kitchens. Worry not, Miss Granger... just follow me."
Against her better judgment, she complied.
Lucius Malfoy said nothing as she conducted several revealing charms on her snack. He kept a respectful distance on the opposite side of the room, watching her every move as he leaned against a counter. Hermione tried not to feel self-conscious as she devoured the bowl of vanilla ice cream.
"What are you doing here, Miss Granger?" he finally asked.
She froze, and her expression betrayed her confusion.
"Look around. You're in a pureblood Death Eater's house. Neither of us have forgotten what happened here to you and your friends." Lucius steepled his fingers together. "You're an intelligent witch, with perhaps more common sense than my son. So why are you here?"
"I should think it's obvious," Hermione replied
"Draco?" Lucius snorted bitterly. "Draco is fickle and prone to flighty, juvenile passions. I'm sure you've seen it yourself. He spends money promiscuously. He sulks like a child. He drinks without consideration of the consequences. And in you..."
"Me?" she interrupted accusingly.
"Yes, you, Miss Granger. You. You are a challenge. You are intelligent. You are the rebellious, inappropriate choice. Surely you can see the appeal to someone as strong-willed as my son. And I know you aren't sleeping with him..." At her guilty expression, he raised an eyebrow. "Or rather, weren't sleeping with him."
"Much as I appreciate this newly complimentary side of you, Mr. Malfoy, is there some reason..."
His disdainful sneer silenced her, and he continued. "Draco isn't used to a challenge. You are a novelty. And I'm fairly certain, knowing my son, that he's made no passionate declarations of love to you. In fact, I'd be shocked if he hadn't asked you to get out of his bedroom, as he does with all of his girls."
She looked down into the melting ice cream. If she looked into Lucius's eyes, he'd instantly see that he had hit on something true; she already felt misty-eyed at her lingering worries that she might be no better than Malfoy's flavour of the month.
"Draco and I are friends." Her voice didn't have the conviction she would have liked.
"Perhaps." He paused, and his eyes grew hard and dark. "The bottom line, Miss Granger, is that if my son pursues a relationship with you, I will cut him off from his trust fund, inheritance, everything. Are you willing to be responsible for that? Are you so certain that Draco loves you that you think it's worth it for him never to see his family again? To never set foot in the manor again?"
She couldn't answer. How could she? Yesterday, Draco had led her through the house, proudly explaining his family's history. He'd never told her he was in love with her. He'd never really renounced his plan to go to America. And hadn't everyone - Harry, Ron, even Pansy - told them that the relationship was foolish? A flash in the pan?
Hermione whispered, "But what if there is something? What if... he loves me?"
Lucius looked nauseated, but nodded slowly. "Answer one question, Miss Granger. Would I be wrong if I described Draco as stubborn?"
She snorted. Draco was, in her estimation, one of the most pigheaded men she'd ever met. He would argue over politics, alcohol, the best sweets flavours - anything, as long as he ultimately won.
"I'll take it that you have seen his rather pigheaded side." He cocked his head to the side. "Let Draco choose. If he... loves you... he'll chase you. But if I'm right, and you proved a temporary, albeit novel, challenge, then you go your separate ways with neither of you hurt. He still has the Malfoy money, inheritance, and reputation. And you, Miss Granger - I could make it financially worth your while, but I doubt you would accept it. No, in your case, the benefit to you is that you never get labelled the latest brainless notch on an ex Death Eater's belt."
She stared at him. It sounded horribly, sickeningly logical, even if she didn't want to admit it. Lucius smiled at her calculatingly.
"Go home, Miss Granger. Rejoin your friends, the friends who have no issues with your blood. I will tell him you left. And then we simply wait and see if he follows."
The sun streamed through Draco's bedroom window. The squawking yodel of the peacocks cut through his sleep. He stretched and patted the left side of his bed... and found nothing. The mattress was cold. When he peered over the edge of the bed, Hermione's purse and dress were gone; the pearls had also been taken from the night table.
"Granger? Hermione?" he mumbled.
No response. A chill shot through him - where could she have gone? But he vaguely remembered telling her about the sweets in her room. Perhaps she'd returned there for a snack and for a trip to the loo.
He rolled out of bed, yanked on his boxers and slippers, and padded out of his bedchamber. Down the corridor, he found Hermione's room completely empty. Her suitcase, shoes and books were gone. Her bedlinens had been undisturbed. Her distinctively godawful ASDA suitcase was even gone.
Maybe she's gone down to breakfast, he thought.
But when he arrived at the dining room, he found his mother and father sitting at the table alone, sipping on tea.
"Where's Miss Granger?" Narcissa asked.
Lucius's eye twitched; Draco didn't catch it, but his wife certainly did. Narcissa stared Lucius down, but he refused to meet her gaze.
"She isn't here? Her room is cleared out." A thread of panic wound through Draco. "Maybe something's happened to her. She woke up in the middle of the night..."
At that, he realized he'd admitted that they were sleeping together, and he blushed hotly. A smile flitted over Narcissa's lips for a moment.
"I'm sure she's fine, darling. The manor has so many protective charms over it, unless..."
Her voice died and she looked pointedly at Lucius. Draco's eyes widened accusingly; his hand went to his wand; and he felt his lip curl angrily over his teeth.
"Father. What. Have. You. Done?" he hissed.
"Why are you both looking at me?" Lucius snapped. "For fuck's sake, do you think I'm capable of offing the girl in the middle of the night?"
Narcissa and Draco stared at Lucius with disbelieving expressions. Lucius sighed, knowing very well that he was capable.
"Fine, don't answer that. But there wouldn't be any benefit commensurate with the risk, considering the mudblood's high profile." Lucius ate a slice of grapefruit, ignoring his son's lethal glare. "I didn't touch the girl."
"But, Lucius, you know where she is." Narcissa frowned. "I can tell."
Lucius scowled at her as if she were the consummate traitor. He didn't meet Draco's gaze.
"I saw her last night. The girl was lost looking for the kitchens. Apparently, she was quite hungry."
Draco examined the carpet with embarrassment at Narcissa's smirk. He felt a bit guilty; after all, he'd felt totally knackered and hadn't bothered getting up with her.
"And?" Narcissa prompted.
"And what?" Lucius focused intently on buttering his toast. "She asked me where the floo was, and when I asked why, she told me she wanted to leave."
"Leave? Why?"
Draco's mind conjured up a hundred possible crises, each worse than the last. He missed the suspicious glare Narcissa shot toward her husband.
"She told me she had made a mistake. She told me to tell you good-bye." Lucius lifted up an empty cup from the centre of the table. "Tea, Draco?"
Draco stared at his father for a moment. His mind seemed to crash - everything had been perfect when he'd fallen asleep, and suddenly, without the faintest hint of why, she was gone. And it sounded sickeningly final. He felt as if he might throw up.
"Draco?" Narcissa asked.
Without answering, staring blankly at the floor, Draco walked out.
Narcissa turned on her husband.
"You've done something!"
"I didn't lie to the girl, and I didn't order her out, if that's your assumption." He paused. "I pointed out a few realities, and she left."
"He loves her, Lucius." She shook her head. "How could you?"
"He fancies himself in love with her. I did this for him," Lucius snapped. "I will never, ever support this... unnatural coupling, Narcissa. And it's better this ends before he's irrevocably damaged our family."
"You've done this for yourself, and you will fix it."
"I'm ordering you not to meddle, Narcissa. I've done nothing to prevent them..." he spat out the next word, "reuniting. But I suspect their feelings run less strongly than you believe, especially with the mudblood. She's gone after him for his name and money."
"You're wrong, Lucius. And I think they'll prove you wrong." Narcissa stood and tossed down her napkin. "I'm unwell, and going to my bedchamber. I don't want to be disturbed by anyone... except for Draco."
She stalked out. Lucius, left alone, continued to unconcernedly finish his breakfast. They would come around. It was just a matter of time before they saw sense.
AN: Don't worry, the story's almost done. Also, isn't it awesome? I almost have THREE HUNDRED reviews! That's amazing, no? I'm not even a real writer, I only ever write horribly boring court documents!