HUNTED
~.~
Chapter 29: Storm.
.
It was the delightful little kisses on her abdomen that slowly roused her on Tuesday. A morning moan skipped out of her mouth as she wearily lifted her head to find Draco flecking languid licks against her stomach. She sighed with a smile and combed her fingertips through his platinum mane, earning a husky growl of approval.
"About time you woke up," he spoke, resting his chin against her ribs. "You have the strangest sleeping patterns, woman."
She chuckled, and the movement caused his head to bounce against her as she blinked away the remains of her sleep. "You're dressed," she commented as her eyes adjusted. "What time is it?"
"Around twenty to eight," he told her, straightening his back and leaving the bed. "I'm going to work in a minute."
"So you woke me up without wanting sex?" she cocked an eyebrow as he began gathering his belongings. "That's a little cruel. And a first for you."
"If I'd wanted to wake you for a shag, my head would have been a little lower than there," he smirked, snatching his wand from his bedside table. "I woke you up so you'd actually do some work and not lie in bed all morning."
"I was going to start at half eight!" she defended, tossing her bed-tangled hair out of her face and sitting up to watch him. "I haven't had enough sleep-
"Well, I would have been fine if you hadn't woken me up," he mumbled. "So, what did Blaise want anyway?"
She flinched at the name but he didn't seem to notice. "Something about Qudditch in Kent," she shrugged, staring into her lap. "I think he said five on Saturday but you'll have to confirm it with him."
He turned to give her a curious look. "You were acting a little off last night," he commented, moving towards her.
"I think Blaise just made me jump when he came over," she supplied quickly. "Come here. Let me do your tie."
"Are you sure?" he questioned, bending a little so she could knot the thin fabric. "Did he say something?"
"Well," she started, licking her lips as she fingered his collar. "Actually-
"I thought as much," he rolled his eyes, looking more amused than anything else. "Don't let it bother you, Granger. His sense of humour's a little difficult to get to grips with, but you will. It's just the way he is. He doesn't mean anything by it."
"Right," she replied dumbly, weighing up his words in her head. Maybe Blaise just enjoyed messing with people's heads. Her boyfriend was quite fond of that too, come to think of it. "You're right," she breathed, giving him a shy smile. "I think I was just too tired to really deal with him."
"You'll get used to it," he promised, stealing another quick kiss. "Do you want me to have a word with him? Tell him to pull back a bit?"
How could that possibly benefit the situation?
"No, it's fine," she shook her head, grasping his face just to get another taste. "I'm still not completely used to you Slytherin boys yet. You should get to work, Draco."
"Alright," he nodded, standing to leave the room. "I'll see you later."
.
.
On the Friday evening, Hermione was struggling hard to keep her eyes open as the sentences on the page turned blurry. Castor and Jason were now practising Concealment and Disguise, elements which all the Aurors had agreed that Neville and herself excelled in. As a result, she had been juggling the Auror training and her work on the case as best she could, but it had started to take its toll.
She'd been at the Ministry by six for the last three days and had then worked from Draco's notes on the case in the evenings. Combine that with her inability to resist her lover's charms and insatiable libido, and she was one tired witch who had probably only managed seven hours sleep in the last two nights.
Her lids were falling again...
"Hermione," his masculine voice coaxed her attention. "Maybe you should stop now-
"No," she argued, rubbing her eyes with the tips of her fingers. She was leaning against him, the notes resting on his lap. "I need to finish these before tomorrow so I can send them to Harry-
"You can't even be reading them properly," he reasoned, moving to shift the work away. "You need rest-
"No," she stopped him again, slapping his hands away from the parchments. "I can rest tomorrow-
"You're being ridiculous-
"I'm being professional," she countered, but her tone was delicate. "Just give me a few more minutes."
He contemplated arguing with her, but it was never fun or wise when his witch was worn and irritable. It didn't matter anyway, as after a few moments she was a dead weight against him, slowly sliding down into his lap.
The television was on and he was reluctantly interested in a late-night political debate on Question Time. Something about Tories and and Lib Dems, but it was rather amusing to watch the toffs squabble. He was absently running his fingers through Hermione's hair, having manoeuvred her comfortably on his legs, when the fireplace roared and Blaise strode into his sitting room.
"Quiet," Draco demanded, glancing down to ensure she was still asleep. His stoicism quickly kicked in and he did his best to look indifferent, but it was rather difficult with her sleeping on his thighs. He remembered then that she was only clad in her pyjamas and one of her flimsy, silk robes, and something instinctive kicked in. "What are you doing here this late?"
"This is late?" his friend mocked, eyeing the television suspiciously. "It's not even midnight."
"Long day," he explained, frowning when Blaise arched an eyebrow. "What?"
"Well, don't you look all cosy," he chided, his tone arrogant and amused. "Domestic life suits you, Malfoy-
"Leave it," he muttered, shooting the other wizard a warning glare. "I'm too tired to banter with you tonight-
"I'm serious," he continued, folding his arms across his chest. "Never thought I'd see this side of you-
"You'll be seeing the pissed off side of me if you carry on," he threatened, keeping his tone quiet. "If you really want to discus my personal shit, we'll do it over some Firewhiskey at the pub-
"Calm yourself, Malfoy," he advised, his eyes lingering on the sleeping witch for a moment. "She must be dead to the world."
"She's had a busy week," he told the dark man, shifting when she released a dreamy moan. "Are you here for a social visit, or what?"
"I came to check you are still coming tomorrow," he said slowly, pausing when he seemed to consider something. "Did she not tell you I came over on Monday?"
"She did," Draco nodded. "I haven't had time to get back to you but I'll be there. Granger said you told her five at Kent, so I'm assuming it's the old Brunway field?"
"Correct," he confirmed, looking at Hermione again as she snuggled tighter into his blond friend. "She seemed a little jittery on Monday."
"You probably just gave her a fright when you Flooed over that late," Draco muttered. "You're hardly the nicest bugger to fall out of the fireplace at midnight-
"Well, you're not exactly a Hufflepuff yourself," Blaise smirked, giving Malfoy a long look. "And she's shagging you-
"Keep your voice down," he grumbled when his lover flinched. "Was there anything else?"
"Well, I thought we could have a drink and a chat," he said, his bistre eyes flickering like swirling soot. "You know; like we used to, when you had a social life-
"Fuck off-
"But I can see you're busy," Blaise finished, gesturing to the slumbering witch. "Again."
"A drink and a chat," he repeated, exhaling as he considered the words. "Alright. Just give me two minutes to take her to bed-
"No, best not," he decided, giving a slow shake of his head. "You do look like shit. We can do it after the game tomorrow."
"That sounds more appropriate," Draco agreed. "I'll see you tomorrow then."
"Goodnight, Malfoy," he sighed, his eyes switching between the pair one last time before he faded into the fireplace. The parting bellow of the Floo roused Hermione with a start and she sprang up from his lap.
"What was that?" she groaned, glancing dazedly around the room.
"Blaise just left," he murmured into her hair. "Come now. You need to sleep-
"But I didn't finish-
"Shut up," he scowled at her, moving them both off the couch. He caught her legs when she almost tumbled to the floor and gave her a disapproving stare when she huddled against his chest. "See," he said, heading upstairs. "Don't you think it's a little pathetic that I have to carry you to bed?"
"You're so warm," he heard her whisper, and he wasn't sure if she was too tired to hear him or if she'd just chosen to ignore his comment.
So he settled her under the covers, muttering a string of curses when Crookshanks decided to get under his feet. He intended to shoot the scruffy cat a hateful glare and deposit him outside, but instead gave him a rare pet and watched as he stretched out at the foot of the bed. Stripping himself down to his usual boxers, he slid in next to her and smirked when when she instantly sought his heat in her sleep and pressed herself to him.
He loved that it was her instinct to reach for him.
Yes. Loved.
.
.
That night groaned with one of those storms without the display of lightening shards. Rain drummed against the window with a heavy staccato, and the thunder boomed loud enough to leave echoes behind. The chaos outside had stirred a fitful sleep for Hermione and her constant fidgeting had separated her from Draco in their bed.
It could have been the lack of warmth or one particularly loud thump of thunder that jolted her awake, and she crushed her face into her pillow with frustration. Her forehead was slick with sweat and her breathing was erratic, brought on by storm-induced nightmares that flashed behind her eyelids. She could never remember her dreams, but the whispers of this one were fresh.
She recalled blood. Screams. Eyes and hands.
She heard it then.
The familiar sound of Crookshanks hissing; defensive and low spits.
She spun around, her eyes falling to the corner of the room and they grew wide with panic. Her honey-hazed eyes were having trouble adjusting to the low lighting and trying to comprehend the dark lines and shapes, but there was no mistaking what lingered in her line of sight.
The shadow was human.
She could feel it breathing. Watching.
Nothing definite or distinctive. Just a dark mass. A solid humanoid block that shouldn't have been there.
She was etched out of stone, just fixated on it as fear tried to grip her awareness.
It shifted; no more than an inch, and another feline growl snatched her back into action. She tore her terrified focus to fumble for her wand underneath her pillow.
"Lumos!" she shouted once her fingers touched the vine wood, whirling around to direct the light to where the black form had been.
She gasped when she found nothing but air.
Her eyes darted frantically around the room, searching for anything that looked disturbed. She barely heard Draco's waking groan, either from her shout or from the light. She was on her knees on the mattress now, checking every inch of the space, her eyes always coming back to the corner.
Her boyfriend was just gathering his senses when she jumped off the bed and flung open the wardrobe doors, shoving her accusatory wand inside with a quivering hand.
"Granger," he murmured, rubbing his eyes with weariness and confusion. "What the fuck-
"There was someone here!" she stated, working her way around the room with her outstretched arm.
"What are you talking about?" he grumbled, studying her closely as she marched around his room.
"There was someone here," she repeated, slower this time. "There was someone in your room-
"What?"
"I saw them!" she proclaimed, pointing to the corner with her wand. "There! I saw someone there! Just a second ago!"
"That's impossible," he assured her confidently, but she was having none of it. "My wards are impenetrable-
"Well, clearly not!" she screamed, near hysterical now.
He was about to insist that she come back to bed and repeat his assurances that his home was safe, but he felt something. Nothing concrete or particularly vexing; something just felt off. It was like coming home from work and finding your seat already warm.
He sat up and grabbed his own wand to illuminate the room, examining his surroundings with a critical eye, but everything was in its respective place; everything was perfect. If it weren't for Hermione's frenzied movements casting angry shadows against the walls, nothing would have ghosted the unusual.
Besides, his wards were immaculate and virtually unbreakable. There was no way. He knew his girlfriend well enough to know her imagination was ripe and usually inappropriate.
"Granger!" he called when she moved to leave the room. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to search your house," she answered, shooting him an impatient stare.
"You're serious about this?" he questioned, tossing the bedding to the side and blocking her exit. "What did you actually see?"
"I saw a person!" she told him, trying to push past him. "In that corner! Just standing there and watching us sleep! That is what I fucking saw!"
"Calm down," he warned, grabbing her shoulders. "You need to be more specific-
"I'm being as specific as I can!" she countered, failing to brush him off. "I had a nightmare, I woke up and there was someone in the room-
"You had a nightmare," he repeated, giving her a sceptical glare. Yes, he was certain it was her imagination now. Common sense tended to be the deciding factor for him.
"Don't give me that look," she pointed her finger in his face. "I know how that sounds but Crookshanks saw it too! He was hissing at someone."
Draco glimpsed at the cat over her shoulder and frowned. Her faithful pet was indeed acting strangely; sniffing said corner and making suspicious low noises, but it was hardly relevant. The half-kneazle constantly did things he would never understand.
"He could have been hissing at anything," he reasoned, holding firmly onto her shoulders when she struggled again. "You had a nightmare and-
"You're not listening to me," she whined, shaking her head in agitation. "I know there was someone here-
"I'm not listening because it's your imagination," he bit out, annoyed with his disturbed sleep. "It's late and I'm tired
"I just want to check-
"Alright," he snapped, and a wave of tired intolerance stole his tone. "I'll have a quick look around but then we're going back to sleep. Just stay here-
"But-
"Stay here," he snapped, pushing her towards the bed before he stalked out of the room. Lighting his way with his wand, he went into every room of his house and didn't see anything out of the ordinary. After a twenty minute search, he returned to find her sitting on the bed nervously toying with her hands.
"Well?" she asked him.
"Nothing," he said simply, releasing the glow of his wand. "There is sod all-
"I know what you're thinking," she mumbled as he got back under the covers. "But I swear, there was someone there-
"Enough," he told her sharply. "It's four in the morning and I'm blood knackered-
"I swear, Draco-
"Just go to sleep."
.
.
Draco woke alone in the late morning, and her side of the bed was cold. He eyed the empty space with a frown, but slowly the fractured memories of last night came back to him. Her panic flooded his brain; her claims of an intruder loud in his ears. And then he remembered that he had snapped at her and he realised why she was absent.
Great...
Well, he wasn't apologising. Her claims had been unfounded and he had been tired as hell. What did she expect?
After a quick shower, he threw on some casual clothes and headed downstairs, finding her on the couch with stressed lines marring her features as she studied her notes. Her face was scrunched with concentration and fatigue, and her hair was still damp at the ends from her morning shower, the water licking at the blue jumper over her jeans.
She glanced up when he took another step into the room and her eyebrows knitted together with distaste. With a defiant grumble, she went straight back to her work, causing his jaw to twitch.
"You're ignoring me," he remarked, crossing his arms and widening his stance. "Don't you think that's a little immature?"
"Nope," she quipped, roughly slamming aside a page. "I don't want to speak to you right now, so I'm not going to."
"Well, that's just stupid," he told her, crossing the room to sit on the opposite couch. "I thought you Gryffindors were meant to have some balls-
"This has nothing to with that," she retorted quickly, abandoning her plan to give him the silent treatment for a moment. "You were a bastard last night-
"And you were a pain in the arse," he countered. "You overreacted to a bad dream-
"It was not a dream," she said forcefully, combing her furious hands through her hair. "I know what I saw-
"Go on then!" he scolded, baring his teeth and deciding he'd had enough of this topic. "Tell me exactly what you saw then, Granger! What did they look like? What clothes were they wearing?"
"I couldn't see," she confessed with a meek voice. "It was dark-
"Look," he breathed. "I know that things have been fucked up recently and I can understand that you may have thought you saw something-
"Don't patronise me, Draco-
"But the wards on my house are completely stable," he continued, trying his best to remain composed. "There was nobody in the room-
"You're wrong," she told him adamantly. "And the way you just brushed it off last night was out of order-
He sighed. "And I'll apologise for that," he offered reluctantly. "If you apologise for overreacting."
The look of offence and shock that crossed her face instantly made him regret his words. "Go to hell, Draco," she said, with a voice as crisp as winter. "I know what I saw."
"Fine," he growled, standing and heading to the kitchen. "You bloody ignore me then. Be nice to have a break from your voice anyway."
It may have been a childish blow, but it made him feel better.
She flinched at his words but remained silent, chewing her tongue inside her mouth. For the first time since last night, she questioned herself, and then her mind randomly led her to thoughts of Blaise. Draco was right; his wards were ingenious. A handful of people could get past them without his magical consent, and Blaise was one of those people.
It had been so dark, but she had sensed a moment of recognition amongst her fear and alarm. The thought struck her like the absent lightening from last night but she quickly shoved it away.
No.
Blaise may have been a little odd and creepy, but he wasn't a late-night prowler with a knack for voyeurism. She was jumping to conclusions again; Draco had warned her about that. But those jolts of unease harassed her mind, and she tried to remember just what he had said to start the unwelcome sensations in her head.
There was just...something not right with her lover's friend. Something that made her want to avoid him and keep him a safe distance away, strangely reminiscent of how she'd regarded Snape. But then, he'd turned out okay in the end.
.
.
The atmosphere in Draco's four-storey townhouse was frosty at best for the next few hours, with barely a mouthful of words being exchanged between the couple. Draco smothered his instinctive sharp-tongued bites with a bit of effort, while Hermione just buried herself in her work with some further private and troublesome musings about Blaise.
Just after four, the blond strolled down the stairs in his Qudditch gear, a view that almost caused his witch's resolve to crumble. She had long established that she had a healthy fetish for a wizard in a Qudditch uniform, it was pretty evident from her past romances. Viktor, Ron, Cormac; but Draco undoubtedly carried it off the best.
"I'm off then," he mumbled, tossing her a casual look. "Hopefully your attitude will have improved by the time I get home-
"Draco," she stopped him with a surprisingly soft tone, and she paused to lick her lips as the words spilled out of her mouth. "How well do you know Blaise?"
"Excuse me?"
"Do you trust him?" she altered her question, regretting her decision to voice her thoughts. She really did need to tame that tongue of hers.
"Of course," he frowned, eyeing her warily. "Why the hell would you ask me that?"
"I don't trust him," she muttered feebly, earning her a snort of disapproval.
"I never asked you to," he said, shifting his broomstick between his hands. "What are you getting at, Granger?"
"Just some of the things he's said," she murmured, looking away from him. She knew she was taking this too far but she couldn't stop it. "It-It's just got me thinking-
"I've told you," he sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. "It doesn't mean anything-
"Maybe," she cut him off, her words tumbling out of her mouth dangerously now. "But...but everything that's happened...what if...
She trailed off when she realised what she was doing, but her mind finished for her, and the incomplete sentence hung between them like a static omen. They locked eyes, his glare decorated with dark and bitter swirls and hers round like hesitant hazelnuts. The implications cracked between them, but there was an unsaid understanding that if she left the words to simmer in silence, it would be forgotten.
And forgetting sounded appealing.
She exhaled and decided that she'd argued with Draco enough for one day, and it seemed foolish to antagonise his temper when even she didn't understand what she was trying to say. She closed her eyes and slowly walked towards him, her hand quivering slightly as she gave his cheek a slow stroke
"Nothing," she whispered, her eyes sad and sorry. "Just be careful."
His brow twitched but he offered her a stiff nod but seemed to satisfy her as she leaned in to nip his unresponsive lips.
"I'm going to have a bath," she mumbled, turning away from him.
"You had a shower this morning."
"I know," she said over her shoulder. "I think a bath will help me relax. Enjoy you're game."
He watched her leave the room with wavering eyes and grinding teeth. He was angry, confused, and irritated; emotions all stirred by her. But underneath all those red and clawing thrills, the subtle sliver of concern grabbed his notice. With a huff-come-groan, he stomped to the fireplace but called out a different address to the one he'd intended.
He'd been to Caleb and Amelia's quaint cottage just outside Mayfield a few times, so when the sitting room was empty, he knew where to search for the inhabitants. He found Warrington hunched over the desk in his makeshift study, his blue eyes scanning the aged pages before Draco cleared his throat.
"Malfoy," Caleb greeted, placing down his book to eye his guest. "You didn't mention coming round tonight."
"It wasn't planned," the pale wizard shrugged. "Is your fiancé here?"
"Amelia's visiting her parents," he replied with a puzzled expression. "Why?"
"I'm on my way to a Quidditch game," Draco explained, gesturing to his broom. "Granger had an...odd moment last night. I was going to ask if she would mind just popping over for a bit."
"I see," Warrington said, giving the blond a contemplative click of his tongue. "Well, I suppose I could drop by with some work. I could use her opinion on some of the details anyway."
"Okay," he accepted the compromise, deciding that he could trust the man enough. "And don't tell her I mentioned this. She said she was having a bath so you should leave it for a bit."
"Understood," he nodded, a sly look stealing his face. "You know, a thank you wouldn't hurt-
"Don't push your luck," Draco rolled his eyes as he prepared to leave. "I'll be back around ten."
.
.
Hermione was under the surface, trying to see how many floating seconds could tick by before her lungs and head started to burn. The soothing bubbles had long since dissipated and the water had turned lukewarm with time, causing weak shivers to weave up her spine. She was pushing a minute when she yielded and lunged out of the tub, gasping in the air with welcome pants.
Raking back her drenched curls, she pulled herself out of the bath and wrapped herself in the robe Narcissa had given her for Christmas; a ridiculously expensive and comfortable garment consisting of fluff and bliss. Releasing a small moan when the satin-soft material wrapped around her skin, she roughly towel-dried her hair when she realised she must have left her wand downstairs.
With calm and lazy footfalls, she headed to the sitting room with the intention of watching the soaps and moping with her Merlot. She gave the room a quick scan for her wand and frowned when she didn't spot it. And just when she remembered that she had actually left it in the kitchen, everything changed.
There was the smallest sound; nothing more than a light shuffle.
And then she could hear the breathing. Near-silent puffs of air that were almost shrouded by the wind outside.
It was behind her. She could feel the eyes now, roaming her back.
Her pupils went to the corners of her eyes, and she just glimpsed the blurry fringe of a shape before she whipped herself round, her limbs and brain adrenaline-drunk as she tried to sprint for her wand.
She was about to Accio but she was caught roughly by the arm and hurled back into the living room, her head catching the corner of the table as she fell. She sucked in a breath at the sting and felt a warm lick of blood move by her ear.
She looked up then. And the face was familiar. And she was horrified. She had been so wrong.
And the man gave her a smile. A genuine smile that made her want to scream.
She just stared for a second in freezing shock, missing when the ever-faithful Crookshanks clawed at the intruder's leg. The smile was gone, replaced by a snarl of contempt, and he delivered a swift kick to her innocent cat's stomach. The painful whine from her beloved pet shattered something in her head and was on her feet, her own injury completely forgotten.
She was grabbed again almost immediately, the firm hand slithering into her curls, yanking at her scalp and she shrieked at the biting heat. She was tossed away again, her leg colliding awkwardly with the wall, and she yelped when she felt something dislocate or snap. And it hurt. She was too flustered to Accio her wand now; she needed to reach it.
She looked up as he neared her, and summoning all of her strength she shoved at his legs until she heard him tumble, flinching when she felt some of him collapse on her. Hastily pulling herself up, she cried out when another snap shot through her foot and she was on her knees, crawling desperately as frightened tears bled down her cheeks.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
And that was it. She was stiff and silent, carved out of terrified ice and helpless. Face down with her cheek pressing against the cold floorboards, her mind was crying with splintering panic and dread.
She felt him roll her onto her back and she was forced to stare at the ceiling until his smiling face seeped into her vision. She was willing her muscles to comply. To run. But she was inanimate; a lifeless doll.
A toy.
"I had a feeling you would make this difficult for me," he told her, his voice scratchy and intrusive.
Her heartbeat thundered in her chest when she felt his hand reach for the tie of her bathrobe. And she could do nothing.
She was powerless and in pain. And it was killing her.
.
.
a/n: Sorry, this chapter took a little longer than expected but health issues and blah blah blah...Nothing to do with the wine by the way! We blame daddy for the genetic glitch!
Ah...feels quite nice to do a semi-cliffy again! Not much to say...There's maybe three chapters left although not entirely sure and the epilogue is already done.
Massive thanks to everyone who took the time to review. This story has gotten so much more positive feedback than I expected and if I could, I would snog everyone who has reviewed/favourited\alerted for showing an interest. Or throw a wine party for you all! Whatever you fancy!
So yeah...hope the chapter was okay. Lend me your thoughts. Massive thanks to desirable69 for your multiple 'p.s's and the lovely words that cheered me up after a shit day at work!
As always, there's been wine, cigarettes and a night so late the birds are singing outside!
Read and review please...if this story reaches 500 reviews I might have a blissful hernia...
Next Chapter: ...well, you'll find out who it is...and what happens to our helpless Hermione...
