Chapter 2 – Falling Into You
Draco Malfoy looked down at the party scene from the balcony of his villa -- the decadence, drugs and sexual orgies were nothing new at Slytherin parties. He had inherited a vast fortune from his father when he came of age and the celebrations hadn't stopped since. He thought he had everything he wanted--fast women, fast cars and fast friends.
Lately, he began to feel dissatisfied, easily bored and restless as if the emptiness was gnawing at him from inside. With the hollowness came bitter frustration as he tried to find a way to fill the void.
I am Draco Malfoy! This is NOT supposed to happen to me!"Draco," a low and sexy voice purred. A dark-haired woman had sidled up next to him. He studied her for a while. She was an interesting specimen--large green eyes, pouty lips and big breasts.
It was obvious what she was offering him but instead, he felt revulsion.
"What is your name?" he asked with disinterest.
"Gia," she answered coyly, batting her long eyelashes.
He touched her cheek and told her candidly, "Some other time, Gia."
Draco walked away from her and returned to his own room. As he opened the door a piece of paper flew in his face. He grabbed it, cursing the careless elf that had left it lying around but something in the paper caught his eye -- it was an invitation to the Carnevale.
"Muggle festivals!" he snorted with disdain and was about to toss it into the bin. Then a thought crossed his mind.
Hmmm…
He recalled his mother talking about the Carnevale, it was a time where aristocrats and peasants mingled incognito and partied for many days. He had never been to a muggle festival before but anything was better than being stuck here in this house. Conjuring up a Moorish costume and mask, he took his broomstick for a little trip to the muggle city of Venice.
He avoided big crowds and wandered the narrow streets of Venice alone. Feeling a little tired after many hours of walking, he stopped by a quaint little trattoria. Draco sat at the bar and watched the party while sipping red wine. Muggles were a strange lot--he had had very limited contact with them but they seem to behave differently that night, a little more reckless and uninhibited. He was contented in his little corner of the bar until a woman dressed in a yellow Elizabethan costume walked straight up to him--he didn't know if she was talking to him when she suddenly pulled his head down and kissed him on the lips. Instinctively, he reached for his wand but the warm feel of her lips and the innocence of the kiss surprised him.
When she pulled away shyly, he caught her hand. You're not getting away that easily.
Pietro, eh?She was glancing nervously at the other side of the room when she apologized for the mistake. He was unconvinced by her explanation. In his mind, he wanted to do wicked things to her – to punish her for stealing a kiss. No muggle woman ever kissed him and got away with it but she was not alone; her muggle friends would never allow him to take her away and casting a spell in a public place was forbidden. Ever since his father was arrested, he dared not risk the wrath of the Ministry. Damn!
Instead he tried a different approach -- he asked her if he could see her again, alone. Draco was pleased she had agreed to meet him at the Rialto Bridge the next day. That would give him time to plan the sweet punishment she deserved.
The next day, he passed the Teatro La Fenice on his way to the Rialto. There were many muggles, some dressed in costumes, some in muggle clothes coming out of the theatre. He paused to observe them as they chatted animatedly about an opera that was showing that day.
Suddenly, the sirens rang out. "Aqua alta!"
Bloody hell!
He ran to the nearest safe location to avoid the flash floods, a common occurrence in Venice. Not even the great Draco Malfoy could control the whims of Mother Nature.
He managed to get a gondola to take him to Rialto when it happened -- there he stood on the gondola along the Grand Canal looking in awe up at the vision of an angel in white standing on the high balcony, wind blowing her golden-brown hair. She was looking towards the horizon as heavy mists took her away from his sight.
Who was she?"She is beautiful, signor…" an Italian accented voice said. Draco glared at the gondolier, annoyed at his rude intrusion.
The tanned-skinned muggle ignored his stare and went on. "Ah, bellassima. She is too marvelous for words, too wonderful for comprehension…"
"What do you know about her?" he demanded.
The gondolier smiled mysteriously. "Who can fathom the depths of love?"
What was he talking about?
"Take me closer." Draco ordered the gondolier to take him nearer to the building where he had seen the vision – his plans for revenge forgotten. As the mists lifted, he saw her again…
Angel! No, wait…it was Hermione Granger!!Draco quickly dived to the floor of gondola, cursing his luck. He was panicking – what was bloody Granger doing here? Will he ever get away from the Terrible Trio? Why of all places did he have to bump into mudblood Granger here? Where was Scarhead and Weasel? Were they here too?
He had to find out. When the gondola docked at the waterlogged jetty, he sprinted up the building where he had spotted Granger. Draco saw her coming out of the apartment and hid behind a potted plant. She was wearing a very familiar yellow colored Elizabethan gown. He almost laughed out loud at the irony of it all. He had kissed… no SHE had kissed him at the trattoria that night. If she had known his identity, she would have hexed him from here to Camelot!
Straining his ears, he was able to catch bits of her conversation with a man, presumably a friend.
She was alone… Scarhead and Weasel were not with her.
She was on her way to the Rialto Bridge, which could only mean that she didn't know his true identity. Sighing with relief, he rested his head against the wall. Then he thought of something -- his plan for revenge had taken a strange twist.
Draco was determined to go through with his 'date' with Granger. He dined and danced with her at the Carnevale Ball – he practically romanced her and she was falling for it, hook line and sinker! He couldn't believe it -- women were so gullible and Granger was not immune to it too. Her behavior was so different from when they were at school – a little kinder, sweeter and funnier too. He wondered if this was the real Hermione Granger.
Their trip to Murano was unexpected as he was risking his true identity by going out with her in broad daylight. Maybe it was stupid on his part but she looked beautiful in a blue Grecian costume with her hair swept up in a ponytail, revealing her smooth kissable neck. Her smile was as radiant as the sun that Draco almost forgot his quest for revenge. It seemed almost too cruel. When the evening came to an end, he caught her sneaking glances him through the feathered mask.
"Let's go for a walk," he suggested with a smile and tucking her hand in his, they walked back to her apartment.
"Close your eyes," he murmured as he slipped his hands around her waist.
Draco brought his mouth to hers, his tongue teasing her as he deepened the kiss. He couldn't believe she tasted so good. Hands that were intent on pushing her away now clutched at her, unwilling to let this moment end.
You have to stop!
Yes, he did it – kissed her and revealed his identity. Her expression was priceless…he could never forget the shock and disgust in her eyes.
"You were the one who came on to me the first time, remember?" he reminded her with a grin. She was so angry that she walked away.
Slytherin one, Gryffindor zero.
Draco was extremely pleased with himself when he returned to his own villa. He passed the salon when he heard sniggers and hushed voices.
"What is happening?" he asked curiously.
"Draco, you would have never guessed who we saw in Venice today. Hermione Granger!" Avery said with an excited tone.
"So?"
"She was alone…staying at a friend's apartment. Without Potter and Weasley, she's practically defenseless," Crabbe added.
"What are you talking about? You know better not to go near her. She is a powerful witch," Draco said dully.
Crabbe and Goyle exchanged glances and laughed. "Apparently, she's not powerful enough against the three of us."
What? Did I miss something?"We've a gift for you, Draco. Granger's here," Avery told him. He was confused as he followed them to the dungeons in the belly of his house. Then, he saw her -- a solitary figure hanging limply from chains, an angel broken and bleeding.
"Idiots! All of you…do you know how dangerous it is to bring her here and risk exposing ourselves to the Ministry," he seethed, glaring at the three of them.
"But Draco, we only wanted to surprise you," Goyle said apologetically. "Besides, she deserved the punishment for all the abuse and humiliation she brought on us."
He snorted a reply and quickly walked over to Hermione. She was alive but her face was bruised and purple, her body covered with deep gashes and burns.
"What are you doing?" Crabbe asked when he unchained her. Hermione fell against him like a rag doll.
"You said that she was MY gift. I'll do with her what I please," he retorted as he carried the unconscious Hermione to his room. It was strange to see her, a filthy mudblood lying in his bed.
Peeling away the blood-stained clothing, he cleaned her injuries and bandaged them to the best of his abilities. He was no doctor but the red welts on her thighs indicated that they may have attempted to rape her in their heated frenzy.
Saving her for me? he thought sardonically.
Healing spells were not one of the subjects he cared to study. Draco took one of his shirts and put it on her. He may hate Potter but he did not plan to exact his revenge on Hermione in this manner.
It would be best if she forgot the whole ordeal, he decided and cast a spell to erase the torture from her memory.
She had been drifting in and out of consciousness for three days and showed no signs of getting any better. Memories of her smiles and laughter began to haunt him--smiles that were meant only for him.
I will not feel sorry for her, he berated himself as he stormed out of the room.
"Master, Missy Parkinson is here," Figaro ran and told him. Sighing, he pushed through the salon doors to see what she wanted.
"Draco, I've been looking all over for you." Pansy's shrill voice echoed through the room. She ran into his arms and kissed him.
He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Pansy what are you doing here?"
"I came to tell you that our wedding date has been set. Our parents have decided that it will be in June--isn't it lovely?" she declared enthusiastically.
"You mean YOUR parents Pansy... My father is in Azkaban, remember?" he corrected her.
"Oh, your mother has spoken to him and he's agreeable to the date."
It seemed unavoidable that they were to marry. Draco closed his eyes searching for patience as Pansy went on and on about their wedding preparations, blah, blah, blah...
"Draco, dear. Will you please arrange for my bags to be sent to my room? I'm very tired from all the long distance traveling," she said as she proceeded up the stairs.
"What? You can't stay here!" he exploded.
She must not find out that Granger was here.
Pansy turned around and seemed unperturbed by his outburst. "Oh? Why not? Are you hiding something from me?"
Draco gazed levelly at her. "I'm not hiding anything from you Pansy. Your parents won't be too happy if they find out you're staying with me before our wedding."
His words managed to wipe the smirk off her face and made her uneasy. "You're right. I'm sorry Draco. I don't want to ruin our wedding. I'll stay with my aunt in Florence."
"Yes. That's much better. I want this as much as you do," he lied. Draco knew she would not do anything to endanger her chances of becoming a Malfoy. "I'll visit you soon."
On her way out, she turned to him and said, "I'll be waiting for you. Don't be too long."
He felt nothing for Pansy Parkinson -- she was just a puppet he could manipulate, as long as he kept her happy in her little delusional world of 'happily ever after'. The only reason he agreed to date her was because Father told him to. Generations of Malfoys had been carefully selected to ensure the pure lineage. Pansy was someone his Father had chosen to bear his child – a son to bear the 'Malfoy' name and tradition.
Hermione finally regained her consciousness. One part of him was glad she woke up while the other was cautious -- even in her weakened state she was resourceful and smart. He must not let his guard down.
What would he say to her? That his friends did horrible things to her? That he had nothing to do with it?
Draco decided he had told her enough and cast a sleep spell over her. At least he was sure she would not try to kill him in his sleep.
Draco was dreaming of quidditch when his bed shook violently, then there was a loud thud and a pained cry.
"What the hell!"
When he saw Hermione in a tangle of limbs and covers, he thought it was funny. Her anger was soon replaced with shock as she stared at him, gaping like a fish. He had seen that look before, the look that was usually reserved for Michelangelo's David. He thought it ironic that she hasn't seen a naked man before!
His ego immediately raised a notch. "Like what you see Granger?"
She snorted with disgust as he stood up to put on his robe. Her bandages needed changing as he carried her off the floor. Despite her inability to dress herself, she insisted on being left alone in the bathroom. Once outside, he waited and counted to ten before re-entering the bathroom. She was standing in front of the mirror without any clothes on and he could see her brown eyes were wet with tears.
He took care of Hermione and helped her by using healing spells. After he had dressed her, he carried her back to the bed.
Wait, did she just thank him? Did she just say his name?It sounded foreign to his ears and yet there was no malice in her voice. She was concerned about their sleeping arrangements and it took some idle threats to get her to agree to share his bed. Draco was indignant that she found it offensive to share HIS bed – to think he would actually touch her, a mudblood? How hard did she hit her head?
There were house rules to be adhered to and he made sure she never set foot outside the bedroom. In exchange he allowed her to owl her parents to tell them she was all right. At first, they were still wary of each other but as the days went by, the exchange of snide remarks and petty verbal spats began to lose their shine. He started to have his meals with her in the room and even enjoyed her company, something he never thought would be possible – they became friends. Her injuries were healing rapidly -- the purple and blue marks on her body were disappearing and gradually replaced with smooth white skin. Draco realized it was increasingly difficult to concentrate on dressing her wounds. It was easier when she was black and blue, but not when she looked beautiful. He had to fight the urge to caress her and slake the desire that she had awakened in him. It wasn't enough if he possessed her body, he wanted her heart and soul...all of her.
Damn you Granger! he cursed inwardly. Why did he allow her to affect him so?
Many a time he had secretly observed her from his side of the bed as she slept. Nightmares seemed to plague her as she tossed and turned, battling imaginary enemies but tonight, her soft brown hair framing her serene face fascinated him. Hermione had learned to trust him. Suddenly, she shifted her position and snuggled nearer to him. Draco held his breath but his heart was racing as he felt a primeval rush course through his body. He longed to run his fingers through her hair and hold her in his arms. It took every ounce of self-control not to ravish her there and then.
"Harry…" she whispered in her sleep, burying her head in the pillows.
Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
How could she be dreaming of Harry Potter in his house, in his bed?He had always thought she and Harry had something going on in school. He had seen the way she looked at Scarhead with tenderness and love. Fires of envy singed his heart. Clenching his fists, he abruptly turned away from her as a little voice taunted him.
It's too late Draco – she could never be yours because her heart belongs to your enemy. How could she love you when there's nothing to love?
The next morning he saw Narcissa's white owl waiting for him in the study. She had brought him a message from home. Draco paled as he read his mother's note –
"It seemed that you had forgotten about your father's hearing yesterday. I had expected you to be back in Wiltshire the day before. The Wizard Council had rejected your father's appeal again. It was not as if they had bothered to listen. Your father was extremely displeased that you were not present at the hearing. Make sure you have a good explanation for your absence. Mother."
He crushed the note in his hand. How could I forget this important day?
It was all Hermione's fault. If she hadn't distracted him, he would not have incurred his father's wrath. Quickly, he scribbled a hasty apology to his mother but his father was another matter. Despite being imprisoned in Azkaban, Lucius Malfoy was still omnipresent in his life, like a ghost in the empty chair. There were rules that should not be broken and Father rarely forgets. Draco was certain his punishment would be swift and harsh. He had to think of a way to get out of this mess.
"Master…" Figaro's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"What?!" he snapped irritably.
"Masters Crabbe and Goyle are here to see you."
Damn! What the hell do they want?
"Draco, we thought you had disappeared and returned to England. Keeping busy with Granger?" Crabbe insinuated.
"Yes, tell us, Draco. Is she as good in bed as she is in spells?" Goyle added, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"Shut up, both of you. She's not your type," Draco replied flatly. "Anyway, I'm not in the habit of sharing my gifts with anyone."
Crabbe shrugged his heavy shoulders. "Too bad we can't have fun with her."
"What are you going to do with her after you're tired of her?"
It was a valid question. Why hadn't he thought of it? Did he actually think she would stay with him forever?"I'll decide when the time comes," Draco snapped. "Let's go somewhere. It's getting boring here." Putting away his worries about Father, Hermione and everything else, he and his friends went out.
He returned late that evening and found Hermione on the sofa with her long legs tucked into her chest and her face buried in the book she was reading. She must have heard him come in and looked up with a smile.
Don't you know how dangerous that smile of yours can be?
Draco turned away in bitter frustration. Suddenly, he felt her hand rest on his arm as she gazed at him with innocent eyes. "Is something wrong, Draco?"
Resisting the urge to pour out his feelings to her he gave a cutting reply, "It's none of your business Granger."
He instantly regretted it when he saw the anguish in her eyes.
What do you want from me?
He didn't know what had got into him after that. It was a mistake to even bring up the subject of Scarhead and Hermione was hell bent on defending him. Jealousy reared it ugly head as he roughly grabbed her and kissed her with unbridled passion. Hands roamed her body and tore at her dress.
I want you. I'll make you love me…
"Please…" he heard her trembling plea and pushed her away, disgusted with himself. He had irreparably damaged their fragile friendship and the loss he felt was deeper than anything he had ever known. Now it was too late for regrets.
"Don't worry. I won't be back tonight." He couldn't meet her eyes and stormed out of the room. All he wanted to do was to clear his mind and he found himself in front of Parkinson's apartment in Florence.
I don't need Hermione. I have so much more in life to do and lonely days are not what lay ahead. If she wasn't here to say how much she adored me, I'll have to find someone who will.
"Pansy!" he called out.
A few minutes later, Pansy poked her head out of her bedroom window. "Draco?"
The moment she opened the door, he caught her hand and dragged her up to her bedroom. Pansy stumbled after him in a daze.
He commanded, "Take off your clothes."
She understood his need and without hesitation, she undressed in front of him. This was not the first time he came to her in the middle of the night. She had given her virginity to him in their sixth year at Hogwarts. Since then, their encounters had been purely sexual, no questions asked.
"Come here."
Draco removed his pants while she knelt in front of him and greedily took him in. The sight of a naked woman kneeling to him in submission created havoc to his body. Grabbing her hair, he slammed his manhood down her throat as Pansy's moans and whimpers grew louder. Finally he could not hold in any longer and shuddered violently, spilling his seed into her mouth.
Pansy wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled seductively at him, knowing that she had sated his lust. She believed in giving her best in everything she did and Draco liked her for it – he had trained her well.
"Stay with me tonight, Draco," she purred, pressing her body against his as her fingers ran lightly over his chest.
Cupping her cheek, he kissed her lightly on her lips and said, "My dear, I have no intention of leaving tonight."
***
The next morning, he found Hermione talking to Figaro in the hall and realized in his haste to leave the villa, he had forgotten to cast the locking spell on the door the night before. The nerve of that woman! How dare she disobey his rules?
She wanted answers but he refused to neither admit nor deny the allegations flung at him. He may have had wild parties and dangerous games but he only did it for laughs. He would never torture anyone – perhaps it was cowardice or weakness on his part. But the look on her told him her mind was already made up. "You're just like your father," she had told him in a fit of anger.
He tried very hard to keep his temper in check – he almost wanted to use a memory spell on her, make her forget all of this but couldn't bring himself to do it. In the end he had asked her to leave and had arranged for a carriage to take her back to England. He had been laboring under a gross misapprehension that she could be something more to him than a friend. That would have been too much to ask. Now, he had no need of her anymore.