Disclosure Hp belongs to JKR. The storyline, new character development, new events, and new characters are my intellectual property. Glorioux
Invitation from the Malfoy
This fiction is for all the readers out there. It promises a good ending.
A second chapter, I might try to post another tonight. A treat for the coming holiday, it is a re-write. A couple chapters a week, to end on the 25 December. It will be all posted depending on the reception.
~``*o*``~
An invitation from the Malfoy
Later that year, after leaving her wannabe triad, December 0:32 AM.
Hermione blamed all in a depression. Less than four years had passed since the battle, and there had been too many deaths, too many losses.
The last summer, a few days of Hermione coming back home, when she left the foolish duo, and less than a year after her dad was murdered, she convinced her mother to go shopping in Diagon Alley. Too bad a gang of Hogwarts' punks attacked them. Her Mom left and moved to France, for the meantime.
Her dad was found dead, but the murder wasn't yet resolved. Harry wanted to investigate it, although it didn't appear to be magical in nature. Ron had recommended that it should go to the Muggle authorities because it was plain robbery.
She didn't believe that, neither did Kingsley. Although money was missing, as well as other expensive tools and items, it had the feel of being staged; the missing things were too visible, probably to distract their attention. Whoever had done it targeted their home a day when their house-help had their free day.
Her father was getting nasty migraines and would go home. That day, he had a headache and decided to close the surgery early since Hermione's mom had left to get her hair done. It was an appointment she had had for days. Hermione was certain that Death Eaters were behind it.
Her parent's house was all locked up; she lived in a townhouse that belonged to her grandparents, and her father had willed to her.
Her mother was under a protection charm; the French farm home was connected to Floo and monitored 24/7. Her poor mother was so pretty; she easily passed for her oldest sister. Hermione hopped that she would love mother had a couple of suitors, both Wizards she met during receptions at the Ministry. One was Zachariah Smith's uncle, but she didn't want any involvements. Hermione and her mother both wished their father and husband, respectively, was back. Her parents' love had been so romantic, both crazy for each other since they were in the uni. Hermione wished the same for her.
Fred, Remus, Sirius, Tonks, Colin, Snape, there were so many fallen. She even felt sad for Crabbe; what a life; he just wanted to be like Draco. In a way, she thought Vince was one of the saddest victims of all, a young thug who couldn't control his magic well. Too bad he wanted to be somebody his hero Draco would appreciate. Really, so much tragedy, they were all a bit damaged, yes, including her.
About Dumbledore, although the old man had been his own brand of a tyrant, she missed him, even if so many young had died; yes, she missed them all, yes even Vince. The losses hurt so many.
The other one of her sorrows was Harry's immersion in self-gratification; she was sure he sought to forget, to quit feeling guilty for the fallen. His worse pain was for Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Colin and for Fred, really for all; and Ron was experiencing some of the same. That was the only reason she still talked to them, because of their common thread.
Yes, the dead kept coming back, she thought about them often. And usually, she assigned the guilt to Dumbledore. As her Dad used to say, "We are in England, not in Sierra Leone; what was that old coot thinking, using children to fight an adult war. What was the old headmaster thinking about?"
She thought at times that was the reason that Harry and Ron act so unbalanced and behaved so stupidly, just like buffoons. One thing was certain; something had changed them all.
If only she could find a way to undo it, she was smart after all. She was so alone and sad, yes, Hermione Granger was very lonely.
Or was she? She knew a few people, and then, there was Draco, A PEST. They have been working together since January this year, and he had managed to unsettle her life.
He recently had told her, "Granger, did you know I have to 'play' solo everyday after work? Considering it is your fault that I cannot even function, how about if you come home with me and 'give' me a hand. Be a dear and have compassion."
"Malfoy, don't be so vulgar, we are at an office, and we are professionals." She would answer in a huff.
"Because I tell you I play solitaire; it is boring when we could be playing a hand of gin rummy instead." And he would give her a blinding smile. He would throw her air kisses, after he found out from Justin that xxx,ooo, meant kisses and hugs; he had gotten to write xxx wherever he could.
He was really a major pain; however, Hermione had mixed feelings, in a way she believed that he might be not responsible for his actions; that was a tough call.
Narcissa was long gone. She had divorced Lucius, shortly after the battle. Shagging Harry out in the open must have been the trigger. Well, maybe not so open, it happened under an alcove by an entrance; she could still remember as she first came upon them, right by her side were Draco and Lucius.
It had to go down as the most embarrassing event in her twenty-three years, phew. Whatever drew her to try to separate them? Dear Helga's rolling pin, she needed to stay away from those thoughts; they made her embarrassed and upset.
Yes, it was bed time for the witch, a lot to do tomorrow, baking cookies and such, the exciting life of a single-witch.
And the noise started just as she had gone to bed.
"Tap, tap, tap." Where was it coming from?
"Woof, woof, woof."
"Camellia, Quiet, quiet, be quiet!"
"Tap, " , "Woof?", "Tap?", "Woof, Woof, woof…, "tap,..."
"Woof, Woof, woof. "
"Agh, Camellia, quiet, shh, yeah, that is a good girl. What have we said about the head-popping inside the house? It is a no-no; it is past twelve, one head, only one, three are way too noisy."
She was interrupted by another succession of, "Tap, tAP, TAP," each louder than before.
It must be an owl. Yeah, an owl is at the delivery window, darn. She thought.
The knocks were followed by more excited barks from Camellia, the fluffy, sometimes, three-headed-wonder-dog.
"Who on earth can be sending an owl at this forsaken time of the day, I will never be able to go back to sleep. Grrr, ugh, darn, it better not be from either one of those fledging Casanovas, the losers."
The pesky wizards were indeed Hermione's Public-Enemies-Number-one and one. They were the bane of her existence and the very reason why she unplugged the phone and closed her Floo, but for emergencies, every night.
When drunk and alone, after their midnight haunts, they would owl her to come by Grimmauld place; or they used to Floo, before she got wiser.
"Hermione love, our missing one-third; without you, we're incomplete. We miss you all the time; we are so lonely. Do you remember when you used to cook those extra comforting early morning breakfasts? We just love your American pancakes and bacon. Come over, we miss you, and want to see you. Why did you leave us? We were just being a little crazy. Please forgive us and come back. We are ready to be your devoted loving wizards. P.S. We miss your cold little feet, and we want to warm them up, and all you body as well." She usually rolled her eyes reading all the non-sense.
We want to see you, indeed, more like, come and cook for us; the message was always clear; they weren't even smart. The nerve the two rodents had or had they cojones? As her Tia Rosie used to say.
Come to lick their wounds after another night of unsuccessful witch hunting? It would have been a more accurate and honest request.
Never again, nope, no way in hell, the nurse Hermione was gone, and by Merlin's wand, wasn't coming back, Auf Wiedersehen, Ciao, Adios Amigo; she hoped and prayed. Sadly, she knew if they offer her marriage, she would run to them, without blinking an eye; she was pitiful.
No, no way, this one, the new updated, upgraded, better, assertive, Hermione, version 15.1 said, "NO, but hell; NO, double, triple-buggery-wankers, no sir, no way, they have another thing coming."
However, as the puffed-up witch approached the window, her heart did a flip.
Camellia, right behind her heels, was being brave, astutely using her human as a shield; after all, you never knew. Cam had watched in the telly about human shields; she was one smart cookie and knew more than she let others see.
Because Camellia was not only a dog but also a daughter of the underworld and mighty smart, besides, the shield thing worked fine for her. So she stuck one head around her human's leg, sniffed the air, and growled for a little extra 'so-fierce'-effect.
The regal, snowy owl wore a gold chain with a solid gold bejeweled pendant (she hoped it was not real). It read, MM in fancy script, and below, in raised letters, a flourish depicting two snakes at each side of, 'L'Roy.' Was that the name of the pompous carrier?
Aha, only one wizard could flaunt wealth in such a decadent arrogant manner. L'Roy flew in, royally perching on the owl's stand made by her late father during a woodturning class.
L'Roy stood at the perch; his face disdainfully turned away from the witch and haughtily stretched a leg which had an extra-light space-age titanium case tied with soft leather bindings.
'Human, take it, do your job, and pay me, chop, chop. Quill your answer pronto; time is gold, and I need my shut-eye.'
Hermione swore it had just talked inside her head, a sort of Legilemency. It had to be, leave it to Lucius to own an owl that was more than met the eye,` but then again, it was late, and she was tired.
She retrieved the container, but before opening it, "Young lady, out, no more growling, it is too early or too late- ah do you also want an owl biscuit, there you go- and you mister, Camellia only one, and skedaddle."
"And, you, yes, L'roy, it isn't poisoned your highness. If you must know, I just made them myself, damn Malfoys, even their Owls are prats, go figure."
The owl held the treat on his beak just thinking about it, and finally started eating it. Hermione gave the owl an evil eye, and he, wait, winked? No, no way, it was too late in the evening.
She took out the festive gold (probably real gold leaf) embossed hand-pressed Japanese rice paper to read the elegantly written script:
My dear lovely Miss Granger, I have an urgent proposition for you.
Excuse the late or early hour, but today 22nd of December, is Yule. Simply because it cannot be yesterday by the time this scroll reaches you, and time is wasting.
Tonight, I do mean a few hours ago, I finished reading and deciphering a fascinating manuscript we recently found, and after I read it, I knew it was for you.
Draco fully agrees. Needless to say, we are both static with joy at the prospect of having our dreams fulfilled, all of them.
What we will propose to you, might grant you the solace that you been seeking for you and your friends. It will, of course, come at a small personal cost to you.
Alas, everything has a price. But not to worry, dear witch, I am nearly sure the cost will bring you much pleasure, so in a sense is free to you. You should know the price is not money; we don't need any. It is of a more personal, delicate nature, one surely guaranteed to make us all happy.
Forgive my presumptions and put aside your hatred when you read this. I know my recent behavior does not speak well for myself, and that Draco's impertinence has caused you a lot of distress in the past and possibly at present.
His current misbehavior is a result of the influence of your innumerable charms. They confuse him, and he just wants to possess you. He is just a young lad, and cannot control his raising desires around you, he needs to learn.
Please forgive your here humble servant and his wayward son for past misunderstandings. He really lives for you, and says you totally detest him. So I am sincerely hoping that will change, and you will include me in your future favourite circle of friends.
We, Malfoy wizards, might be perceived as dark and arrogant, it is so, and I will not deny it. Yes, we are desirable, handsome, and elegant beyond comprehension. So, why be humble? We are made of extraordinary stock, better than most, and we have for once recognized your intrinsically superior value.
Being expert connoisseurs of unique items, we have long bowed to your beauty and magical might; so, we revere the ground where you walk. And do forgive me; I rejoiced when the young buffoons made a mess of their chance to possess such a rare jewel.
Draco and I went to France to celebrate the auspicious event. I am also sorry that everyone heard about it, thanks to carrot-top's indiscrete tongue. You cannot feed pearls to swine. And yes, Molly's son is a buffoon.
Please get ready and come over, or come as you are in your sexy negligee; whatever you are wearing is fine. I will not try, neither will my son, I swear upon my honor, to even lift a finger, or do anything to harm or offend you.
Be so kind and inform me right away by means of L'roy, as to when we might expect your arrival. In an hour or less will be fine, if sooner much better. You don't need to pack; we can get all that you need if that is your wish. If you want to sleep some more, do it here, we have a suite waiting for you.
About L'roy, he only eats organically raised food, and only whole grains and no fruit. Please no raw meat, it gives him indigestion. He is fond of the mouse cookies and the buffalo mini-cakes from the new Owl bakery in Diagon Alley. The one operated by Mrs. Máxime Hagrid, surely you are acquainted with the establishment.
I thought you might want to make a note, just in case you would like to stock up for future correspondences. He is also fond of a scratch above the left side of his beak; just say, scratch, and he will not peck you. After that he will be your captive, trust me.
I am anxiously waiting for your response. The gift/proposition I am offering will be worth your time. Remember when you come to the Malfoys, you are safe as a babe in the nursery. After all, it would help if you remembered that I am under magic restrictions. I turn this missive to my son; he is anxious and wants to convey you a message.
Your servant at your feet, or wherever you may wish,
Earl Lucius Malfoy
P.S. My father says to wear warm clothes, sturdy shoes, and if you wish, you may carry along the furry pest you bring into the Ministry, go ahead. In any case, she likes me best.
Now, I, Draco tells you: wear something tight and sexy; in dark green, if it is not too much trouble, forget the warm stuff, I will keep you warmer than you would like.
Ah, do make sure to wear some of those sexy nickers you wear to the office, yes, I see them when you bend sometimes, but I am just too polite to tell you. Besides, if I told you there would be no more bending.
By the way, I like the ones with the red doted with the white ruffles, or one the animal prints, my favourite are the zebra's, or no knickers is even better. A matching bra would be lovely. I like peeling delicious witch's layers.
Lastly, my father cannot vouch for me, and I can guarantee you won't be safe in your room with me around. Let's face it, you don't know yet but I am the one that will make you happy. Quit shopping around.
Xxxxx (I'm not saying where)
Draco or the one you have been waiting for.
A/N Auf Wiedershen, Au Revoir, Adios = Good bye.
Amigos = Friends
Cojones = Bollocks
If I was Hermione, I would go. Granted Harry is also nice, but when he is with Ron he is hopeless.
Happy coming Holidays, if you like the story do drop me a review.