The Burrow could always be counted on to feel like home, with its warmth that wrapped around you comfortingly and the permanent aroma of homemade savory broths and delicious afters. The large house was unfailingly busy with family everyday, providing needed distractions. For once, Ron found himself wanting all the noise and chaos to fade away, he was trying to concentrate. It was strange, even during games of chess he could easily focus on the board despite all the mess in the background. However, as he sat there reading over the information packet Malfoy had given him for the fifth time, he couldn't properly read the words, they were a jumbled mess.
A patient suffering from Cruciatus Curse (CC) tremors have typically been exposed to hours of the curse's effects. Exposure to the Cruciatus during already stressful conditions can also be a cause, as the individual has most likely developed post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), which can be treated through therapy. Mentally difficult situations can send the sufferer into an 'episode.' While it can be challenging to identify the individual's triggers, it is very important to do so. Avoiding these is the best course of action until the patient fully feels confident their therapy has been successful.
Ron had been stuck just on the first paragraph. He couldn't get through it, no matter how many times he tried. One of his best friends, his wife, has been suffering from this all this time and he hadn't realized. Did 'Mione go through them often? What all was triggering them, if so?
The scarlet haired man sighed, slipping the packet into the drawer of his bedside table in his old room at the Burrow. Not being able to focus, he decided to head to the shop to distract his brain. Was this why she worked so much? Did she go to therapy? Ron Apparated to the back of the store, running a hand through his hair as he thought.
"Hey, little brother," George greeted him with a smile and a simple wave. "I thought you were taking the day off?"
"Nah, I need something to take my mind off things," the younger Weasley replied, shrugging as he carried a box of product to restock. George nodded, a sympathetic smile on his face. Ron worked on stocking the shelves, idly cleaning messes left behind by children throughout the store, and assisting customers at the counter.
"Hey, there, Ron," came a cheery voice from behind him as he was putting out the last few Drollery Dew potions, a drink that was similar to Giggle Water without the spirits.
"Hey, Anita," he returned, not even needing to look behind him to know who the voice belonged to. The wizard put out the last potion and turned to be greeted by a bright smile and dazzling near turquoise eyes. Anita was holding her little five year old son's hand with a shopping bag in the other.
"How have you been?" She questioned, letting her boy pick through a few of the tamer sweets.
"I've been all right," Ron assured, a shoulder shrugging as her lips pulled to the side in a half smile. The woman's head tilted as she observed him.
"Hm, try that again, except this time, try to convince yourself a little better," Anita told him, a brow cocking with her half smile. Ron huffed out a light laugh and shook his head. She knew him well enough to know when he was lying. "Want to have some lunch at the park with us? That's where we're heading after here."
"Yeah, sure," the scarlet-haired man agreed after a few moments, he hadn't had lunch just yet anyhow. He glanced around to find George when he walked from behind him.
"Get out of here, you git," the older Weasley said as he went to stock the Blast Ended Bubbles, "it's suppose to be your day off anyways."
"All right, then. Let's get out of here," Ron suggested as his arm slinked under her neat, wavy mane and wrapped around her shoulders, being sure not to accidentally tug her soft locks. He loved the way her hair felt, it was always so soft and smooth when he idly played with the ends. The two left the shop, Ron leaning over and scooping her little, Alan up before they wandered down the way to order something for lunch. They Apparated to an Apparation point near a muggle park and walked the rest of the way, finding a table near the edge of the area.
"So, what's up?" Anita probed, poking his cheek with a smirk once they had finished eating and her son was running off to play. Ron sat with his chin leaned on his fist as he watched Alan swing himself on his stomach with his arms spread out. His eyes drifted over to the woman next to him, taking in her appearance.
"A few things, really," he sighed out. "My head is a huge mess right now."
"Hm," the woman hummed as she watched him struggle with saying what he wanted. "What comes to your mind first?"
"That's the thing, everything at once," Ron groaned, his palms going to his temples. The beautiful Indian woman next to him stood to her feet and began gingerly massaging his head. "I feel like, maybe, I'm clueless when it comes to 'Mione."
"Why's that?" Anita prompted, opening the door for him to unload his thoughts to her. The wizard chewed on his cheek as he thought.
"Hermione was tortured during the war," he filled her in, struggling with revealing such information. "As you can guess, it tormented her after the war. I didn't realize to what extent. She had stopped talking about it, and even let her scar show for everyone to see, I thought she was just refusing to let it set her back. It reality she…"
"She was forcing it away and not dealing with it," she finished for him. He nodded solemnly.
"'Mione is one of my best friends, and for me to not realize," Ron cleared his throat, glancing down at the table to distract himself, "I feel awful. We got into an argument about one of her—friends. He's been teaching her martial arts for quite a few months now, and somehow he knew about her PTSD, he came over to her parents house and brought her back from one of her episodes—I had no idea it was happening, 'Nita. It's sodding insane, he was one of the people present at her torture."
"Really?" Antia questioned, her brows peaked as her hands drifted towards the back of his neck. "And she is still friends with him?"
"That's what they say, although it feels like more than friendship," he thought aloud, "it feels—like us."
"What do you mean?" The woman tilted her head with furrowed brows despite him not being able to see her, but he knew her well enough, he could guess her expressions.
"I mean," Ron started, not sure if he should continue. He went on anyways, "being friends, when we want more than that. Skirting around the way we feel for one another, I think I'm done with that."
"O-oh?" She quizzed, her hands timidly retreating from his shoulders. Ron's hands darted behind him to catch her wrists, pulling her to him and wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Not like that, you silly witch," he assured her, his head turning to press his lips to her cheek. "Don't get me wrong, Nita, I do love my wife, but I think, maybe, we're just not going to work. I've tried, for years—I think it might be me. I mean, she's no Saint in this situation by any means. The witch lied to me for seven months about who was training her, knowing fully well I absolutely despise her friend.
"They seem entirely too close to just be friends, the way they are together almost seems like lovers. If you forget what a pompous arsehole he is and look at the life he's lived, he is actually very similar to her," Ron went on, letting his thoughts merely tumble from his lips as Anita hugged him from behind. "Hermione is extremely ambitious, I feel, perhaps, too much for her own good, but he matches that ambition tenfold."
"You feel inadequate compared to him," Anita surmised, her voice taking on a sad lilt. Her chin rested on top of his head. "There is nothing wrong with the path you've chosen, Ron. Your family needed you. No, you didn't follow your friend and become top Auror, because your ambitions laid with helping your family heal.
"You are not inadequate. I don't believe co-owning a largely successful business can be constituted as meager." The witch watched as her son climbed on a barred dome, nearly slipping through one of the holes. She felt his large hands on her arms, keeping her in place.
"He's fine, 'Nita," the scarlet haired man chuckled out. He pulled her around him, having her sit down next to him, her back against the table. His hand raised to her neck, letting his thumb caress her jawline. "Let me take you out tonight."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Anita questioned looking up at the man that towered over her even while sitting.
"I've no sodding clue, but it's what I want to do." Ron didn't know what was what anymore, he just knew he wanted things to be simple. He wanted to live life with his family and watch his kids grow older, safe and happy. The route Hermione was taking, he didn't want that.
"Okay, then. Want to go watch a skirmish?" The raven haired beauty suggested. That was something Ron loved about her, she actually liked Quidditch. The two would join a few games together here and there.
"Yeah, then grab a few drinks over dinner?" He added, watching as her little button nose lightly scrunched as she smiled, an airy giggle leaving her lips. "I love your laugh, it's so cute and matches you perfectly."
"Oh, stop," she looked off to the side, a red darkening her skin under her eyes. Ron's peripheral caught the sight of Alan teetering from the top of a beam that was much higher than the barred dome. His hand quickly sent out a silent Molliare, cushioning the ground he was about to land on. His eyes glanced around, it didn't seem like any muggles noticed. He quickly broke the charm.
"Alan, stay off the high equipment, kiddo," Ron called after the boy pushing up off the ground. He nodded and ran off to play once more, finding some kids to play with. "Where was I—oh yeah, I was talking about how pretty your eyes were."
"No, you weren't," the witch chirped, grinning and pushing at his chest. He chuckled as his hand slipped into her hair.
"Well, I don't know why not, because they are. I've never seen their unique colour before," he mused, laughing at the way she shyly turned her head from him.
"I didn't realize what a flirt you were before," Anita commented, slowly meeting his eyes with her lips preventing a smile.
"No, I've always kept my wits about me around you. There have been a few times I've had to literally bite my tongue and stop myself from commenting on how absolutely beautiful you looked that day or look elsewhere to keep my eyes from wandering to where they most definitely should not have been," Ron admitted, his thumb grazing over her lower lip.
"Perhaps, I've gotten myself into a bit of trouble with you," the witch simpered out, the tip of her tongue gliding over her lip to stop the tickling sensation, brushing against the pad of his thumb.
"You like a challenge, though," he reminded her with a quirk of his brow. She giggled and nodded before standing up.
"We'd better be off if we want to make it to a match," Anita said before calling for Alan. The three Disapparated to her home, preparing Alan and her youngest Emma for the sitter's so they could go on their outing.
Hermione rummaged through her wardrobe, letting her weight shift to her left side as her foot tapped to the voice of Lilly Allen that was drifting throughout the room. The kids were at Molly's with Ron. They agreed on every other week, but Molly wanted to see the kids and she wasn't going to deny her, she did still love them all very dearly. Humming along to Him, her hand pulled out a cream long sleeve top and hanging it the handle of her wardrobe before pulling out a burgundy high-waist skirt. The witch quickly slipped on a pair of pantyhose along with her skirt and top.
As she left the bedroom, her music seemed to follow along with her—a spell created by Dean Thomas. Hermione made her way down the stairs to put her cream Oxford heels on. Being sure her outfit was perfect with her shirt tucked into her skirt and the cuffs buttoned properly in a mirror in the foyer, the witch Apparated to Draco's. Due to her jump and being so far away from her charmed radio, the spell for her music broke. When she landed in the living room, Scorpius was running around the open planned room connecting to the kitchen and dining room, he had no shirt on and was giggling like a hyena.
"Get your shirt on, you little runt," she heard the older wizard groan out at the toddler. Draco was standing in the kitchen with his head lulled back, sighing up at the ceiling as he held the boy's little tee in hand. Scorp came barreling towards hers.
"'Mio!" He shouted, a huge grin greeting her as he shifted around her, using her as a shield and peeking around to see where his father was. The much taller blond rolled his eyes, his tongue clucking as he trudged into the living room.
"Fine, I know just how to trap you, monster," he muttered, lowering himself to the floor with his back turned towards the two. Quite a few moments past before the little looked back around Hermione's legs. He glanced up at her curiously and she nodded towards his father.
"Go get him," she whispered, putting her finger to her lips to tell him to be quiet as he did so. The boy grinned mischievously with a nod before he quietly tiptoed towards the man sitting on the floor. He edged near him, nearly stepping within the distance he could jump on him. There was a squeal and a string of hiccups and giggles when Draco swiftly turned, his arms darting around the three year old, finally capturing him to finish dressing him.
"A-ha, couldn't resist trying to take on your old man, could ya, little punk," he chuckled out at the squirming child. Draco's legs wrapped around his son's torso, effectively locking him in place so he could slip his shirt over his head. "Give it up, newbie, I've won. You'll have to try again next time."
"I win!" Scorpius argued, poking his tongue out at him.
" What? How do you win, runt?" Draco snorted with an eye roll as he grinned. "I caught you."
"No, I got you," he told him, grabbing onto one of Draco's legs. The older blond laughed, nodding as he ruffled his son's hair.
"Okay, okay, it's a draw, then, son," he conceded, wrapping his arms around the boy and standing. Draco turned to greet the beautiful witch that just Apparated into his living room. "Hello, Dea. You look lovely."
"Thank you, Draco," she replied with a sweet smile. He loved those smiles.
"Scorp is beginning to wise up and use you as a cover," the blond stated, tickling the smaller blond.
"That's because he's a little smarty-pants, huh? Your trap isn't going to work much longer on him," Hermione pointed out with a smirk, poking Scorpius' belly. "You'd best change your strategy up."
"Ugh, don't say that." Draco set the child down and let him run off to go play. "Are you ready to head out?"
"Yes," she affirmed, smiling widely as she bounced up on her toes. The witch was excited to go back to the mysterious club. A lopsided smile met her as he nodded, chuckling at her excitement as the wizard grabbed a dark green leather jacket from the back of a chair. He was wearing black jeans and a fitted shirt once again—well, it did look good on him. "All black again?"
"Of course," he said, his tone taking on a coy tone as a smirk pulled at his lips, "it's the best way to show case the gorgeous witch that will be with me."
" Tsk, let's go, you ridiculous man," Hermione pitched with a roll of her eyes, her hands grabbing at his arm. The blond merely nodded slipping an arm around her waist to Apparate where he knew the club was suppose to be. He made sure to check on the theme before they went, informing his date to feel free to dress casual. His eyes glanced over her attire as they landed on the outskirts of a small town. The witch said he always made everything look so posh, but here she was wearing a simple skirt and button up and she looked fantastic.
"Oh, so it moves?" The brunette with her untamable ringlets noted excitedly, looking around them.
"It does," he simply confirmed, giving a nod as he led her down the sidewalk towards the doors.
"How do you know where to find it?" She quizzed, peering up at him. "You said you first found it in Shangri-la, did it move to England?"
"Hm," Draco hummed out, thinking how best to answer her. They found the doors behind an abandoned building. Dorian was in a fully black suit, leaning against the frame on his shoulder, smoking a cigar as they approached.
"Hello, again, doll. It seems you've realized the theme changes," Dorian greeted her, noting her appearance as his eyes looked her over. "Draco here never pays any mind to the theme, as you can see."
"I think it's rather blasphemous to attempt to outshine a Goddess," Draco retorted coolly, his lips slipping into a sly smile. A wicked grin crossed Dorian's face as a deep chuckle rumbled from his chest.
"Yes, indeed. I do sense the energy similar to Athena, perhaps Persephone," the mysterious man observed aloud. The blond nodded.
"See, Dea, I'm not the only one," Draco lowly murmured in her ear, his fingers grazing her side. In hindsight, having his face brushing against her soft locks was not a good idea for him, the scent of her was pulling at his core, enticing him, beckoning him to offer himself to her this very moment. "Let's go inside, before I'm tempted to just steal you away."
"Oh, no, I've been waiting all afternoon, Draco," his Dea pouted to him, her lower lip just barely pushing out as a corner pulled to the side. A playful feeling flittered through his chest, she knew exactly how to play him. His chest slowly rose as he felt her arms gently slinking around his torso, her wide hazels gazing up at him as her brows lightly knitted together. "I was so excited to come out with you tonight."
The thought of pressing this witch against the wall next to him flashed through his mind, his knee slowly nestling its way between her thighs and firmly grinding against the soft flesh beneath her knickers. He's heard her near moans while she stretched after training, the wizard didn't imagine those sweet little mewls were far off of her really moaning, reveling in the pleasure he could give her. Draco simply held the emerald card that appeared in his hand up for Dorian to see, his greys captured by those hazels that had topaz and dark amber flecks in them, while earning a chuckle from the obsidian man, the doors crept open for them. He could never deny a request from this woman. She had her delicate hand and nimble little fingers too firmly gripped around his soul, her nails digging in as deeply as she could.
"After you, Dea," the blond muttered out, fighting himself from taking another kiss from her. The witch beamed, raising on her tips and pressing her lips on the corner of his. Just the feel of them on his skin nearly made him sigh in satisfaction, had the thought of throwing his pride aside and dropping to his knees to beg for another racing into his mind. He didn't, instead he let the woman enter the club, anticipating her reaction to the theme.
When the two entered the huge hall, the low vibration of a cello surrounded them, Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major BWV 1007 I. Prélude played in the background. Draco glanced over to the brunette who was sending waves of excitement into him. Her features were magnificent, lit up like she was witnessing the most brilliant thing in existence. He supposed it was rather great. The club's theme had changed into a moderately lit library.
There were books lining every wall, and as the ceiling was rather high, there were balconies. The booths morphed into shorter mahogany tables with comfortable looking lounge chairs. The chandeliers were globed lights with green fixtures over them. The bar was now a deep mahogany and currently served a more Café themed menu, some spirits were still available. Draco gestured towards a chair for her to sit at in the same place as before.
"This is brilliant," Hermione whispered, her eyes still roving over all the books. What kind of books were they? Were they from other places, not of this world? Draco took a step behind her, his hands going to her shoulders, gingerly bunching her hair up and sweeping it to the side.
"You know, Dea," the wizard murmured in her ear, his lips brushing the shell. With fingers carefully kneading her shoulders, Draco continued, his voice coming out far more sensual than he meant, "you're allowed to read the books."
" Really?" Grey eyes firmly closed at the gasp that left her lips. I knew books turned the little nerd on, Draco chuckled to himself. The breathy inclination had him stepping around the chair and lifting her from the piece of furniture, transfiguring the two chairs into a chaise. He wanted to be able to wrap an arm around her small form.
"Want to go browse?" The blond questioned with a small smile, earning an eager nod as he still held her to him. He lowered her back down and let the witch snag his hand up and drag him across the room to explore the books. They visited the different areas for about an hour, the bookworm collecting three or four to examine, allowing him to carry them back for her. Once the two settle into their chaise, she was snagging a book up while Draco was scrawling out a chai tea for her and cherry moon tea for himself.
"Oh, the lettering is changing," Hermione gasped, nudging him to look. The wizard glanced over at the book, catching the lettering on the page transforming to English from some strange text he'd never seen before. The astonished woman muttered, "curious."
"Well, what's it on?" Draco inquired, sitting back and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. The witch glanced over at him, a cheeky smile taking her lips.
"It seems to be a cook book, but it is certainly not from here," she stated, reading over the ingredients. There were excerpts stating where and how to find some of them. "What is a firbolg, I wonder."
"Ah, it is a race, from another universe. They evidently are like druids," Draco explained, lazily playing with her curls. A hum left her throat as she continued to read.
"It says you can find a specific mushroom from firbolgs—interesting," she mumbled, her eyes still scouring the words that explained that firbolgs were giant-kin and were rather reclusive and very hard to find. Draco watched her for some time, sipping on his tea. Eventually, the witch leaned against him, crossing her legs, getting more comfortable as she read a field guide to Ranger hunting. He ended up ordering a bowl of fruit, lifting a raspberry up to her lips when she asked for a piece.
"I know your lovely eyes want to soak up as much new information as possible, Dea," the blond began, chuckling at the pout she was already forming, " but we can't stay here all night. Let's head back and watch a movie. We can come back again before the theme changes."
"Oh, okay," she sighed, her shoulders slouching. This was absolutely riveting, the brunette didn't want to stop reading about these different places. However, she supposed they had better return to their world after all. Draco held his hand out for her, helping Hermione to her feet after she set the book she had been reading down on the table. The two crossed the secret library and exited to Disapparate back to the blond's living room.
"Let's see," Hermione chirped out after slipping her heels off and kneeling to examine what movies he had. Draco was removing his Converses as he glanced up at her here and there, sending his shoes off to store themselves when he was finished. He sat back on the sofa, waiting for the humming woman on his floor, enjoying the good mood she was in. The witch set the movie up and wandered over, stopping in front of the sofa with a hand on her hip and the other one pointing to the floor in front of him. One of his brows quirked as he observed her.
"Dea," rumbled from his chest, not sure exactly what she wanted from him. Her head nodded toward the floor.
"Take a seat on the floor here, please," the brunette lightly commanded. He took a moment to regard her, but listened all the same, sliding off the sofa and sitting on the floor as she requested. It seemed to please her, a small satisfied smile formed as she slipped behind and took his previous seat. Hermione summoned a small bottle of honey chamomile lotion. "You didn't schedule an appointment for you today, did you?"
"No, I did not, Dea," he confirmed, nearly jumping when he felt her little fingers grazing his skin over his sides, raising his shirt upwards. Hell, if the woman wanted his shirt off, he wasn't going to complain. The blond reached behind him, grasping his shirt and pulled it up over his head, tossing the item to the side.
"I didn't think so," the witch said in a voice she often used to scold him. Draco felt her hands begin to knead his shoulders, gliding over his skin with lotion that smelled like her. He let the movie she picked out distract him for a few moments, letting himself relax under her small hands. "You're always taking care of me, Draco."
"And I'll continue to do so," he told her simply. A hum came from her throat near his ear.
"Yes, I know," Hermione softly cooed, her lips doing as his did to hers a few hours ago, brushing against the shell of his ear, teasing him with her warm breath. Teasing him has become one of her favourite pastimes, the way he reacted to her was rather adorable. This man was always so reserved and well put together, but he nearly came undone with a mere smile from her, his breath catching as a blush rose to his cheeks, words tumbling from those lips of his incoherently. The brunette's hands gently worked their way to his biceps, asking, "who tends to you, Draco?"
"I—no one, Dea," Draco admitted, his words coming out as a rasp as he concentrated on how her hands were beginning to roam over his muscles at a slower pace, the pressure easing when they moved to his sides. He gasped, her nails were biting into his skin just above his hips, lightly dragging up his torso. The man felt the blood rushing past his abdomen, his jeans becoming rather tight.
"Who do you want to take care of you, Draco?" The witch purred in his ear, her lips slowly trailing down his neck, over his pulsing vein.
"Oh, sweet Salazar, you, Hermione," the blond begged, his breath catching in his throat as her tongue licked at the nape of his neck, sinking her teeth into him. A soft hum that was much higher pitched, nearly pushed him over the edge. This witch was barely doing anything to him and he felt he may bloody burst. Draco's hand buried itself in her curls, gently massaging her head as her lips latched onto his skin, suckling it before drifting over a few centimeters and biting at his throat. The blond found himself leaning back against her, letting her do as she wanted with him and groaning out, "Oh, fuck, Dea."
If she wanted to play with him, use his body how she saw fit, he wouldn't object. His hand covered hers as it trailed across his chest, slowly lowering, teasing his skin as she delicately worked her fingers over his abs. This woman was being rather sadistic, lowering her hand farther down his stomach only to raise it back up with a light giggle when he'd groan at the feel of the contact. Draco carefully gripped at her locks, pulling her head away from her assault on his neck, he was sure he had marks all over, proof he belonged to his Dea. The wizard brought her pretty petals to his lips, greedily stealing a kiss from her, twisting and wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her off the sofa into his lap.
Two could play at the game she was playing. A large hand roamed along her sides, brushing over her stomach, and drifting lower, past her navel. A throaty moan vibrated over his lips, the little witch in his arms asking for more satisfaction. Draco sucked on her lower lip, swiping his tongue over the flesh. The moment her lips parted, the blond's tongue invaded, massaging her tongue with his.
His hand continued slowly lowering, fingers gently caressing her over her clothing. A low chuckle left his chest when the witch whimpered, her legs spreading for him, triggering his hand to retreat from her abdomen. He was going to have his Dea begging him to touch her. His fingers went to tentatively working her shirt out of her skirt, running them over her bare stomach, trailing lower.
"You're rather excited, Draco," Hermione panted out, pulling away from his lips and nuzzling her nose against his. The wizard pressed his hips upwards, making her feel him better.
"This is what you do to me, Dea," Draco growled, "I find myself in this state quite often thinking of you, imagining these perfect lips of yours on mine, feeling your hands on me, your body wrapped in my arms."
"Oh, is that all you imagine?" Hermione questioned, placing a kiss on his lips before taking the lower between her teeth.
"Oh, no. I have imagined far more depraved things, Dea," he assured her, trailing his hand up her body, just barely brushing over her breast, earning a gasp as the witch pressed her chest forwards. His hand stopped at the side of her neck, his thumb landing over her throat. She was going to beg him, but not yet tonight. "Sinful acts that I am doing to you and merciless things you are doing to me.
"But we won't be trying any of those right now, witch," he told her, a taunting tone dancing within his lilt. Draco chuckled when her lips pulled into a pout, disappointed they weren't going to be heightening their pleasure. "Mn, what's the matter, Dea? You look rather dissatisfied."
"Just you wait," Hermione murmured in his ear, biting at his lobe. She didn't say anything else to go with her vague statement, merely wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled his nape. The blond wrapped his arms around her torso, resting his cheek on hers as the two sat there holding one another, listening to the movie play in the background. The witch left an hour or two later, giving him a goodnight kiss before Disapparating, leaving Draco to go up to Scorpius' room and dismiss Madam Danielle, kissing his son before heading back to his overly large room, a room meant for two.
The next day, after her training, as it was Hermione's day off, Draco escorted the brunette to the club for lunch, ordering her another chai tea and a fruit parfait that looked quite extravagant. He made sure to set an alarm to pull them out of their little corner, knowing while she would be lost in books, the blond would be lost watching her. After lunch, the wizard was accompanying Hermione and her mother to their spa treatment the next day, waiting in the lounge as he worked on reports. Before they left hours later, the witch demanded he schedule a massage for himself. He begrudgingly obliged, sighing and rolling his eyes.
The two began going to the mysterious club for lunch everyday for a couple weeks. On the third day, Draco introduced her to the bartender, Ern. He was a brute of a man, tall, bulky, and somewhat grey with teeth that barely protruded out from his lower lip. The wizard always wanted to ask—or rather confirm what race Ern was. He theorized the bartender was a half-orc, he'd read about them in the library the last it was the club's theme.
"Hermione, this is Ern. Ern, Hermione Granger-Weasley," the blond was nonchalantly gesturing between the two, taking a seat on a stool at the bar.
"Pleasure, Miss," Ern greeted with a nod to her.
"Ern, we would like to get Hermione a card," Draco requested, leaning on the surface. The grey man looked the small woman over and gave a simple bid before gesturing the two to follow him. A wall disappeared next to the opening of the elongated piece of furniture. The room they walked into wasn't anything special, merely a storage room with multiple shelves lining the walls, crates stacked in front of some of them. Ern spoke in a strange language, three chairs and a table appearing from no where immediately after.
"Well, then, have a seat," the maybe half-orc told them. Draco gestured to a seat for the witch to sit in before he sat down. Ern was collecting a few items off of a shelf near the back, coming back with a map, a piece of twine, and a small amethyst shard. The large man handed her a silver dagger and told Hermione, "All right, Miss, I'll need you to prick your finger."
"Hm," the woman hummed out, her head tilting as she stared at the longer knife. Her eyes drifted to Draco, catching him give a simple nod, telling her it was fine. Hermione accepted the dagger as the bartender unfolded the map, a map of their own world. Hermione pricked the pad of her pinky just as he finished tying the twine around the Amethyst. Ern held his hand out, accepting the reluctant witch's much smaller one.
"Marr blog agh shatraug, Hermione Granger-Weasley shof agh gajirm jum. Hoq isha vor, jug, lind, porandaum. Afar dil ob dautas, afar han ob burz, mug u agon, rog-votak urdanog ta-hum u banam." Ern began speaking, his crystal being held between his fingers over the map. The twine slowly swayed, moving in a strange pattern, a rune of some sort. The faster the crystal moved, Hermione noticed her blood flowed from her pinky, fluidly trailing towards the crystal, giving the rune visibility by gradually emitting a golden glow.
"Curious," the witch muttered as she watched. She'd never seen a ritual like this. The Amethyst was taking on a more burgundy hue and the man was no longer holding onto the twine, leaving the crystal suspended in the air, slowly absorbing the piece of thread and shining blood.
"Well, there you are, Miss," Ern prompted, nodding to the red crystal that was now flattened to look like a metallic burgundy card, her name scrawled across a corner in tiny gold lettering. Hermione blinked, merely staring at the card before being nudged by Draco. Shaking her head, she swiftly plucked the object out if the air to examine it. "What will your payment be, sir?"
"The usual," Draco replied, handing his emerald card over. Ern nodded and accepted the item, leading the couple back out of the storage room. He did something Hermione couldn't quite see with the card, but there had been a faint silver glow from behind the counter before he handed it back over to the blond wizard. "Let's be on our way, Dea."
"What form of payment do you do?" Hermione questioned, her head tilting as they left the club, bidding farewell to Dorian.
"Gold, of course," Draco chuckled out. "Due to the many different patrons, they have to ask what form of payment will someone be using. I've heard someone say gems once."
"Hm, that makes sense," the witch hummed. Hermione and Draco would meet from then on for lunch. The blond being the playful sort he was, often made it a point to get there before her and taunting her about being far too slow. The little brunette began to attempt to get there before him to reverse the roles. Dorian seemed to love the game they played and joined in on their cajoling, with whoever the winner was at the time, that is.
Another Quick Author's Note: Hello, again, everyone! Sorry, I don't want to incorporate too many of these in my chapters. I just wanted to inform my readers that I have created a forum for my story called: Albert's Place (From Dust). This platform doesn't have the best way for authors and their readers to interact with one another.
Thank you, to everyone who has left comments giving feedback. It is greatly appreciated, since I do not have a Beta Reader. I hope to have a chapter in a few days. Feel free to join the forum.