Authors Note: Thanks to both my beta, and for all the wonderful reviews – they are invaluable in their encouragement. I hope I have live up to expectations with this chapter. Many of you have asked questions in your reviews; it would take up too much space to answer them all here but if you would like me to email you back with replies to your queries, include your email when reviewing. Also, I am starting to get writers block hence this took me so long to write – any ideas and suggestions are welcome so feel free to give suggestions as to the direction of the story. The disclaimer can be found in the Prologue as by now, you probably all know.
Chapter nine
For a second, Hermione sat as though stunned, her brain reeling from the shock of what had just happened. Fear and panic warred for supremacy within her, making her feel slightly sick. What had happened, but more importantly why? What was she going to do now that the Brocklehursts were unconscious?
Questions raced through her mind with the speed of lightning; maybe the Malfoys had wanted her unconscious too, but for some reason the plan had backfired. This thought had the affect of pulling Hermione from her trance-like state and introduced rationality into her jumbled thoughts. She was sure that whatever the reason for her present state of consciousness, it did not bode well. Quickly, she glanced at Mr and Mrs Brocklehurst, but as before, both were sprawled out in their chairs, with neither showing any signs of coming round any time soon. Hermione swallowed; it was time to take some kind of action and fast. Something Quentin had said just before the end of term popped into her head, "Following the flock can occasionally prove to be a blessing although many people forget this!" At the time, she had not understood what Quentin had meant, but now, trapped with no obvious means of escape, his meaning became clear.
It was time to put Quentin's advice to the test.
Closing her own eyes, Hermione let the cup she had been clutching slip to the ground, the contents pooling around her feet. At the same time, she leaned back in her seat, deliberately letting her muscles relax so one arm dangled over the side of the sofa while allowing her body to slide sideways onto Mandy's unconscious form. She could feel her heart racing, the beat thudding loudly in her ears. Trying to ignore this and hoping the Malfoys would not hear her heartbeat, she waited, hardly daring to draw breath. A second later a shout reverberated around the quiet room.
"Damn it! The girl, the girl, she's unconscious!" Lucius' voice sounded loudly in the silence. The sound of someone jumping to their feet, reached Hermione and she waited with bated breath, as Draco Malfoy strode over to where she and Mandy lay.
"No, this can't be happening," Narcissa gasped, "I made sure… I checked—"
"Well, you can't have checked all that well, can you?" Lucius sounded furious. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted you to do it properly! Now they'll all be out cold for at least two hours before we can administer the antidote. What a waste of time and planning!"
"Father," came Draco's voice from right in front of Hermione, "I saw mother administer the draft; she only gave it to them." Hermione presumed he had indicated the Brocklehursts, "she didn't touch Hermione's cup."
"Of course I didn't! What in the name of Merlin do you take me for?" Narcissa snarled. By the sounds of it, she too had got to her feet and was now pacing the length of the room.
"Well then," Lucius said, forcing himself to remain calm, "if you didn't add the draft to the girl's cup, then why is she unconscious?"
There was a silence and Hermione bit her lip in trepidation.
"I am telling you I did not add anything to her cup," Narcissa eventually said, her voice deliberately calm, "I checked and double checked."
"You know," Draco said thoughtfully, and Hermione knew he was looking down at her prone form, "I would not put it past Hermione to be pretending to be unconscious!"
"Pretending?" questioned Narcissa, evidently perplexed, "why would anyone wish to do that? That position looks extremely uncomfortable!"
"Oh, there may be many reasons for her pretending—" Draco answered, and Hermione could hear the sneer underlining his reply, "fear, a sense of dramatics…oh, for all sorts of reasons."
"Well, rather than just stand here deliberating, let's find out if she's playing games with us or not!" Lucius' impatience was getting the better of him. "There's only one way in which we can settle this once and for all!"
Hermione could hear Lucius' footsteps as he crossed the room. The sound of crockery chinking together could be heard for a moment, and then there was silence.
"I am not sure this is going to work," Narcissa said, a wary note in her voice.
"Oh, but it will work," Lucius responded grimly as his footsteps drew nearer to Hermione's prone figure.
Hermione gulped; what was he about to do? For a moment she considered jumping up and facing him before he had the chance to hex her or whatever he was going to do, but the combination of fear, and the beginnings of cramp in her oddly placed limbs, ensured she stayed where she was. She could feel bile rising in her throat, and swallowed convulsively; the rich Greek food she had consumed earlier was fighting back with a vengeance.
She braced herself, all the time fighting to remain calm and rational; he could not do anything too terrible to her since for some reason yet unknown to her, he wanted her conscious. That ruled out spells such as the stunning spell. She supposed he would hex her so she summoned all the knowledge Quentin had drilled into her, and began to concentrate with all her will; she must resist whatever he was going to throw at her – she must!
Hermione was so engrossed in her thoughts, she did not hear Lucius come up to her and stand over her limp form. It was the sound of his voice that pulled her from her concentration.
"Narcissa, get the house-elves to clean up the spilled coffee and remove the Brocklehursts, they will only get in the way." Then before Hermione could resist in any form, a glass of ice-cold water had been thrown over her front, making her splutter and gasp. She could feel the water seeping through her robes and under clothes onto her skin causing her to shiver. Instinct made her gasp and open her eyes. All fear and panic was forgotten as the ice cold water made contact with Hermione's skin. Jumping up, she faced a smirking Lucius who was standing before her holding an empty glass in his hand.
"You…You…" Words failed Hermione, as she stood dripping water onto the carpet and trying not to let her teeth chatter.
Draco stood beside his father, quietly smirking, letting his gaze roam over Hermione's front, where her now transparent robes were clinging to her breasts, leaving nothing to the imagination. Hermione narrowed her eyes at Draco's obvious once over. Lucius too was smirking; a cold calculating look in his icy grey eyes.
"It is amazing how a simple glass of cold water can refresh one's senses," he drawled casually, while placing the glass on a side table. "I must say I was getting a little worried; all that planning going to waste," he shook his head. "You must be congratulated on your acting ability, my dear Hermione – for a moment you had us all fooled."
Narcissa now walked over to them, her face impassive. Taking out her wand, she flicked it casually at Hermione's soaked robes and immediately they dried, and were once again, returned to their pristine state.
"That feels much better, doesn't it?" Narcissa asked, pocketing her wand and smiling at Hermione, who looked back blankly. "Lucius, let's not frighten the dear girl. She is still in a state of shock."
As she spoke, the door opened, and four house elves came in. Within seconds, they had cleared up the spilled coffee and water with clicks of their fingers. Then to Hermione's horror, the house elves levitated the bodies of the Brocklehursts out of the room.
"Where are they taking them?" Hermione asked, barely suppressing the note of panic in her voice.
"Oh, to one of the guest rooms," Narcissa answered, still smiling, "They are, after all, our guests. Oh, don't worry about them, they will be all right, and when they wake, they won't have any memory of what happened."
Hermione could not believe what she was hearing; the off-handed way Narcissa had brushed the Brocklehursts off, stung her into retorting acidly, "Well it's nice to know that you'll treat them well as they're your guests, but you wouldn't want them getting in the way and upsetting your plans now, would you?"
"Relax Hermione; they'll be perfectly fine," Draco spoke up, amusement colouring his voice, "all we gave them was a simple sleeping draft – nothing more!"
Hermione had no chance to retort; her body was crying out for warmth, and as she tried valiantly not to shiver, Lucius continued, with a satisfied smile on his face, "Now for the real business of this evening. Come Hermione do take a seat. After that awkward position you were in earlier, you might as well get yourself comfortable." As he spoke, he stepped forward and placing an arm around Hermione's shoulders, pushed her forward to one of the sofas drawn up to the fire.
"Narcissa, order more coffee will you?" he tossed over his shoulder as he forced Hermione's unresisting body down onto the sofa. Draco sat down beside her, and Hermione could not help noticing the gleam in his eyes. Her heart was threatening to burst out of her chest; she was so afraid. The heat of the roaring fire was licking at her chilled flesh, welcome warmth to her cold, still shocked body.
Lucius sat down opposite her and Narcissa, after ordering more coffee, joined him.
Slowly, warmth was ebbing back into Hermione and her heart was returning to its normal rate, making breathing easier. The shivering was subsiding, and Hermione's numbed emotions started to stir. As rationality asserted itself into her stunned mind, she looked round at the three people surrounding her. All were wearing calm expressions, observing her, whilst leaning back in their seats, obviously at ease.
Before she could change her mind, Hermione burst out, "Well, what do you want with me?"
"Nothing." The answer so calmly delivered in Lucius's cultured drawl, it brought Hermione up short and she frowned confusedly at him.
"Hermione," Narcissa drew the perplexed girl's attention to herself, as a house-elf came into the room with a coffee-tray. "All we want to do is to have a civilised conversation with you, is that too much to ask?"
Bewildered, Hermione kept her eyes on Narcissa, who was now pouring coffee into four cups. Trying hard to keep down the hysteria she could feel rising in her throat, she said, "A civilised conversation? You give my friends a sleeping draft and practically kidnap me, just so that we can have a civilised conversation? Are you serious? Honestly, I wasn't born yesterday! What exactly do you want with me?"
"I told you, all we want to do is to have a conversation with you like rational human beings without any interruptions," Narcissa said calmly, now handing the cups of steaming coffee around.
Numbly, Hermione took her coffee cup, but did not drink from it. Placing it on to the spindle-legged table beside her, she asked, "And why do you want to have a conversation with me?"
"Well," Draco replied after taking a sip from his cup, "since we couldn't talk to you at the Ashworths ball, and as you're always in the company of Potter and Weasley at school, we had no choice but to talk to you here. All we want to do is talk. No hexes, no curses. I promise." To underline this, he pulled out his wand and placed it in Hermione's lap, "Now you are armed and I'm not. Satisfied?"
Hermione stared down at the wand in her lap, trying, but failing, to make sense of Draco's words. She gulped, trying hard to think clearly, but her mind seemed to have come to a stand still.
"You ought to drink that coffee before it gets cold," Narcissa's voice interrupted her jumbled thoughts; "your system could do with it."
"Um… no, thanks, I don't really want it," Hermione heard herself answering.
"Hermione," Draco said a note of exasperation evident in his voice, "the coffee isn't poisoned you know. Drink it!"
Hermione picked up the cup and was grateful for its warmth. As she took a sip of the hot sweet coffee, she felt warmth flood her. She leaned back into the sofa, savouring the fortified feeling. Slowly, she took another experimental sip and gradually her discomfort receded, allowing her to think coherently for the first time since she had pretended to be unconscious.
"See!" Narcissa smiled at Hermione over the rim of her own cup, "it is helping already. Now back to our previous discussion, all we want to do Hermione is to get to know you properly. As Draco explained, it is very difficult to put aside house rivalries at Hogwarts, so we thought we would take some time out with you, away from outside distractions and have a chat."
"Right," Hermione mumbled, still trying to make sense of what was going on.
"So," Lucius said, smiling jovially, "Why don't you tell us a bit about yourself… you know, your likes and dislikes. In turn, maybe we too can tell you a bit about us as a family."
Completely bewildered, Hermione frowned again at him. "Mr Malfoy," she began slowly, trying hard to think logically, "Before we go into my likes and dislikes, may I ask why you're taking the trouble to have this conversation in the first place? From what I know of you, you're not the type to associate with muggleborns freely, so why the sudden interest? To put it bluntly, what's in this for you?"
There was a slight pause and then Lucius leaning forward in his seat still smiling seemingly casually, explained, "Hermione, as human beings, we are all apt to make mistakes from time to time. I apologise for any offence I or any of my family may have caused you in the past due to your muggle heritage. We're here tonight to put our past behind us and to start afresh."
Trying not to let her shock show on her face, Hermione stared at Lucius in the flickering firelight. She knew she didn't believe a word of what he had said – an old saying of her mother's popping into her mind: "A leopard never changes it spots!" She could not believe that the Malfoys had radically changed their ideas on blood purity overnight. Which put her back at square one – what did they want with her?
She knew she was now playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse, but was determined to get to the bottom of this mystery once and for all. She had become quite adept at play-acting since her first major deception at the end of her fifth year, in Professor Umbridge's office.
Leaning forward, she returned Lucius's smile and replied, "Well thank you, but there's no need to apologise – after all it isn't as though we knew each other really well. I mean, there has always been rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor, so I suppose we can blame most insults on this." She hoped she had sounded sincere.
"I don't know," Narcissa sighed, shaking her head, "all these house rivalries aren't healthy. They harbour unnecessary aggression, and for what?"
"Well, house rivalries are all a part of being at Hogwarts. Change them, and you will be changing the whole timbre of the place," Lucius expounded, while holding out his coffee cup to Narcissa to be refilled. "On the other hand, it can go too far, as in the case of you two," he indicated Draco and Hermione with a nod, "It is merely a case of knowing where to draw the line, and if allowed to get out of hand, prejudices are formed and hostilities are born."
Hermione stared into the flickering flames of the fire, at the same time giving her leg a good pinch. The resulting pain put pay to the idea that she was dreaming, which could only mean that she must be awake. Blinking bemusedly, she looked at Lucius's relaxed countenance; from what she could make out, he seemed perfectly serious – but how could this be so?
Mustering her thoughts, she contributed, "I understand what you are saying Mr Malfoy, but I think in certain cases, there's such a gulf between people, that it's impossible for them to get along, even if they may want to."
"My dear Hermione, surely we can dispense with the formalities; first names please!" came the reply, still in that relaxed, slightly amused drawl, "Your argument, although logically sensible, has one fatal flaw; if we all acted upon what those around us dictate and refuse to even attempt to jump the hurdles before us, we're simply re-enacting the prejudices we're being fed, and possibly missing out on something truly worthwhile, don't you agree? What is the muggle saying again? We are simply 'following the flock'! I'm quite sure that such a forward thinking, intelligent individual such as yourself can see the futility in such a manner of interaction; it prohibits development of every kind!"
Biting her lip, Hermione allowed the truth of his words to sink in. Innate honesty told her that for once in his life, Lucius Malfoy was right in what he was saying, but to admit this would go against everything Hermione had ever heard about the Malfoy family.
Narcissa's voice pulled Hermione from her confused thoughts. "Leave the abstract for the practical, Hermione. You have heard lots of unflattering things about us. Knowing no better, you believed those from whom you have heard such things, not ever questioning their prejudices, simply because you have had no experiences or basis with which to compare what you have heard," she waved a hand as Hermione made to interrupt, "no, let me finish! As I was saying, until now you have known no better. You have accepted what you have heard of us without question – but surely before you pass judgement, it is only right that you should give us a chance to speak in our own defence, and to show you first hand the kind of people we really are, rather than believing the distorted accounts given by others. Hermione, decency and fair mindedness, things for which I believe you are well-known at Hogwarts, demand this."
Hermione swallowed; she could feel a pang of guilt go through her at Narcissa's words. She clenched her jaws to stop herself from readily agreeing with what Narcissa and Lucius had said. Why was it that they could make her feel guilty for something which her rational self told her was all their own doing? Taking a deep breath, she took another sip of her coffee to give herself thinking time and allow her to sort out her jumbled thoughts.
Casting her memory back, she traced the formation of her current beliefs in her mind. When she had entered the Wizarding world at the age of eleven, she had had no concept of the prejudices facing her, but as the year had unfolded, she had soon learned. To top it all, it had been Draco Malfoy himself, who had first used the term "mudblood" on her, on the Quidditch pitch at the start of their second year. A justifiable anger gripped Hermione at this recollection and she sat up straighter in her seat.
At the same time, she was well aware that she was in a precarious situation; those who could have helped her were lying unconscious somewhere in this vast house, and she was surrounded by people who until now, had been open in their dislike of muggleborns. She had a lot of thinking to do when she got out of here, but for now, her priority was staying alive and escape, and she wasn't going to achieve that by arguing with Lucius – a known Death Eater.
Adopting a polite smile, Hermione looked directly at Narcissa and agreed, "You're right, there is no refuting your argument."
Immediately, she noticed a change in the atmosphere. Draco, who had until now remained silent, smiled as his parents beamed with satisfaction.
"Well then," Narcissa said, expelling a deep breath, "time to start again and put all this nonsense aside. Hermione are you warm enough? That water was ice cold and I would hate for you to catch a chill."
"Oh, she'll be fine," Lucius grinned, getting up and sauntering over to the curtained French windows. Pulling one of the curtains aside, he stared out and carried on, "These young people are hardy souls. You fuss too much Narcissa!"
"Hermione," Draco laid a hand on her arm, "would you like to see our library? I assure you, it's worth a tour." He lowered his voice, whispering conspiratorially, "let's leave now before they—"he indicated his parents with a jerk of his head, '—begin one of their long-winded arguments," he gave her a wink, "believe me, they're not pretty." Taking his wand from where it lay on her lap, Draco drew Hermione to her feet and taking her arm in a firm grip, led her from the room; leaving his parents behind closed doors.
The quiet hall was cool; their footsteps rang out on the smooth marble floor as Draco led Hermione through the intricately carved double doors into the library.
She could see at a glance that it was huge; the floor was covered in a light polished wood, while floor to ceiling shelves lined three walls. Along the fourth wall, a fire burned brightly, flanked by large picture windows. Comfortable armchairs were drawn up to the fire and a large leather-top desk stood to one side of the hearth. If she had not been so worried, Hermione would have squealed with delight at the presence of so many books, some of which were very rare, but trepidation held her tongue and enthusiasm at bay.
She stood in the centre of the large room wondering what to do next. The logs in the fire crackled merrily, bathing the room in a warm glow, while an Edwardian 8 day strike Lancet bracket clock, ticked away the minutes.
"Well?" Draco queried, frowning slightly when Hermione made no move.
"Oh, it's lovely," Hermione said absentmindedly, while her thoughts churned restlessly inside her.
"So lovely that you just stand there staring into space?"
With an effort, Hermione shifted her focus onto Draco and the room in which they were standing. She had to remain calm to allay suspicions. If she was careful, she may be able to find out what this was all about.
She gave Draco the benefit of a wide smile and went over to the nearest shelves. Behind her, she could hear Draco's footsteps following her. Suppressing the impulse to turn around to look at him, she attempted to concentrate on the books in front of her while her other senses tuned themselves to the figure now standing directly behind her.
"This is a massive library," Hermione exhaled, impressed, as she moved along the shelves, mentally cataloguing its contents, "some of these are rare books indeed," she indicated 'Common Creatures of the Twelfth Century'.
"Yes, I believe we do have some treasures here," he agreed serenely, keeping his unreadable silver eyes trained on her.
Hermione noticed that he sounded as vague as she had, and wondered where his thoughts really lay. Involuntarily she tensed, made aware afresh of how tall he was, and certainly much stronger than her.
As though he could read her feelings, he continued, "You may not have noticed, but I'm not a vampire or other such dark creature; I don't bite. One would think from your rigid posture, that I was about to tear you from limb to limb. Relax, Hermione!"
Hermione suddenly felt Draco's fingers descend onto her shoulders; the fingertips making gentle circular motions along her shoulder blades. If possible, she tensed even more, and tried not to wince as his fingers pressed down into the unyielding muscles of her shoulders and neck.
"Relax, for Merlin's sake. I've no intention of hurting you, I'm only trying to ease the tension which is radiating from you in waves."
He moved his hands so the palms were resting on her shoulders and began to massage the knotted muscles with his thumbs. She became conscious that his fingers were stroking lightly against her collarbones, sending an unwelcome sensation along her already over-wrought nerves. She wanted to pull away, make him stop, but oh, it felt so good to finally release the tension that had been building up within her over the past few hours. She flexed her shoulders, and was grateful the muscles did not protest, as was usual when she was under a lot of pressure.
Unconsciously, she leaned back against him, her shoulders yielding to the pressure of his fingers, as he worked his skilful way over her neck and up to her jawbone.
"Better?" Draco asked in a soft, warm voice, brushing a strand of hair off her cheek and tucking it behind her ear.
"Umm, much," Hermione agreed, as slowly he turned her to face him.
She looked up into the planes and angles of his face, trying to decipher his expression, but the firelight was dim, leaving most of his face in shadow.
"Thanks, that's loads better," she said, not knowing why she was whispering. She tried taking a step back, only to make contact with the shelves behind her.
"Any time," came the equally soft reply, "you were very tense, here." Taking her by the shoulders, he pulled her towards him, and sliding his arms around her, proceeded to massage the middle of her back, causing her to groan audibly as her tense muscles relaxed. She was now standing in the circle of his arms with mere inches separating them. Hermione made to extricate herself, but Draco's pianist hands moved, the right moving up to rest between her shoulder blades, while the left slid down to the small of her back. The kneading pressure of his hands forced her forward against his body, making her gasp. She was now pressed up, flushed against him, her cheek resting against the soft velvet of his robes. She could feel his chin resting on her hair and knew that if she didn't break free soon, she would regret it.
Mustering all her will power, she tried to step away from Draco, quite forgetting the bookshelves at her back. He had obviously not forgotten them, for he said, "Relax Hermione… the shelves are just behind you. I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself on them. It's okay," he soothe quietly, "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."
The warmth of his voice drained away whatever remained of Hermione's resistance and she allowed herself to lean against him. His reassuring solid presence, warmth, and fresh appealing scent had the effect of calming her nerves, which had reached the limit of their endurance. The last few hours had been some of the most gruelling she had ever experienced, and her tired body was crying out for reassurance and comfort. What harm would it do to rest here for a few moments, savouring the tranquillity of the library, while she pulled her battered thoughts together?
Hermione felt the tension drain from her limbs and gave herself up to the pleasure of being held close by another human being. Draco, sensing her acceptance to the situation, tightened his grip until Hermione's head was resting on his shoulder. Taking his right hand from her upper back, he began stroking her hair, increasing the feeling of languor washing through her exhausted body.
For a moment, there was complete stillness, broken only by the crackling of logs in the fire. Then gently, almost dream-like, he took hold of her chin, and turned her head so their faces were inches apart. Hermione looked into his eyes – no longer cold and icy, but warm and smiling. She gulped; his nearness seemed to be having a strange effect on her. She could feel her breathing quicken as her heart rate accelerated. She had often heard other girls describe Draco Malfoy as handsome but had always scoffed in response, but now she understood all too well what they meant.
She stared mesmerised into his eyes, her mind at a complete and utter standstill. Smiling slightly, Draco bent his head, and gently kissed her slightly parted lips. At the touch of his mouth, Hermione gasped; sensations such as she had never known before were coursing through her, making thought impossible.
He stared into her face waiting for her reaction, but when none was forthcoming, he lowered his mouth onto hers once more. This time, the kiss was more passionate; his mouth more demanding. He traced her lower lip with his tongue, and at the same time began caressing her jaw with his thumb. Involuntarily, Hermione opened her mouth and immediately Draco took the advantage to deepen the kiss. She couldn't help herself and responded in kind, while simultaneously pressing her body into his. Her arms, which had previously been at her sides, went up to clasp the nape of his neck, her fingers tangling in the silky hair.
Dragging his mouth from hers, Draco proceeded to press feather light kisses along her jaw and then down her neck, causing Hermione to moan out loud and tilt her head back, allowing Draco further access as he sucked at the soft, soft skin. His mouth had just found the sensitive spot at the base of her throat, when the sound of the doors being pushed open intruded into Hermione's consciousness.
She looked up to see Lucius standing in the doorway, a smirk plastered across his face.
"I apologise for my untimely intrusion. Please, don't let me disturb you," he said amused and backed out of the room, closing the doors behind him.
It was enough. With a jolt of horror, Hermione was brought back down to earth with a bang. She pushed Draco away from her and stepped sideways to put more distance between them. Her hither-to quiet conscience, ground back into life with a vengeance, and she stared aghast at Draco, who was watching her, a quizzical expression in his eyes.
How could she have let him kiss her? She was honest enough to admit to herself that she could have put a stop to it before it had got out of hand, but had not wanted to do so. The word 'Traitor' echoed loudly in her mind, and she flinched, hating herself for lowering her guard. A favourite phrase of Mad-eye Moody's came into her mind: "Constant Vigilance!" Well, she had not been vigilant, and look where that had got her.
"I... this… this should not have happened…" she began, searching for words to break the suffocating silence.
"Oh? And why not?" he drawled, still considering the girl in front of him, "For my part, I rather enjoyed it, and what's more, I could tell, so did you."
Hermione glared angrily at him, for a small part of her knew he was telling the truth – she had enjoyed it, and if Lucius had not come in… she put a stop to that thought, and concentrated on the tall figure standing in front of her eyes glinting with was that triumph?
"You…" she huffed, protesting, "I didn't..."
"Oh, but my little Hermione you did," he insisted, smirking, "that's what you can't get over, and you know it!" His eyes took on an amused look, almost smiling at her indignation.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione resisted the urge to hex the smirk off his face and tried hard to disguise her emotions. "Malfoy, mistakes do happen, as you well know," she said, keeping her voice low so he wouldn't notice the tremor in it. "We both know that what happened just now was an unfortunate mistake. A mistake that was a result of tiredness on my part." She considered the blond in front of her and added, "But I'm not quite sure what your excuse was."
Draco ignored the inherent question in Hermione's statement, choosing instead to comment, "Hmmm, reverting back to being formal with me, are you? Interesting. A mistake – is that what you call it? Fine, in that case, you won't mind repeating what we did, just to make certain that it was only a mistake, and nothing else."
Hermione backed away in alarm as Draco stalked towards her. Trust him to turn the tables on her like this. She knew herself well enough to know what would happen if they were to repeat the last few minutes.
"No," she almost shouted, "No, stop being so absurd, it was a mistake and that is the end of it."
"Hmm, the lady doth protest too much!" he murmured wryly, "Don't tell me you're… scared?"
She could hear the challenge in his voice and swallowed. What to do next?
Then making up her mind she plunged in, "No, I'm not scared – I simply don't wish to catch anything from the likes of you!" She pointed a finger at Draco to emphasise her point.
Hermione's statement wiped the smile off Draco's face. She had to stop herself from bolting at the look that now adorned his face. Fury did not do justice to the expression in his eyes; they had resumed their cold, hardened look, reminding Hermione of the stormy Artic Ocean.
"I see," he snarled softly in a dangerous voice, his eyes never leaving her face, "well… tough!"
As she watched, paralysed, the infamous smirk reappeared, but this time tinged with something she could not identify, but which frightened her more than she would like to admit.
In two strides he had reached her, and before she could retaliate, he had grabbed her arms forcing her body against him. Even as she struggled, he hooked one arm around her, trapping her between the bookshelves and his own body. With the other hand, he forced her face upwards and bent to claim her mouth in a kiss, which was as savage as it was passionate. She tried to pull away as his mouth bruised hers, but he held her too tightly, so her struggles only succeeded in pressing them closer together, instead of putting distance between them.
She made to raise her foot to kick him, but unexpectedly, the kiss gentled, causing her to gasp, reeling as once again she found herself responding to him. She fought the sensations now coursing through her traitorous body as he traced her swollen lips with his tongue – but it was all in vain, as her body seemed to have developed a life of its own, making nonsense of rational thought. She did not resist as he pressed against her, sprinkling gentle kisses over her languid face.
Then stepping back he looked down at her, a lazy smile curling his mouth.
"Another mistake?" he drawled, causing rationality to crash back into Hermione's already tilting world.
She blinked at him, and as her confusion dissipated, she felt her face go hot. She had done it again! She had let him get the better of her! What was worse, she had enjoyed it. And to add insult to injury, he had been the one to end their kiss, not her.
She could feel anger flooding through her, not at him, but at herself. She should have known better! Why had she not been able to resist him? She had never had a problem before in keeping her head when being kissed! She thought back to Victor Krum's kisses at the Yule Ball in her fourth year, and more recently, those of Tom Anger's, her Ravenclaw boyfriend of last year. She even considered her drunk-fumbling kisses with Ron, which happened once or twice, after both had had a little too much to drink. None of them had been able to evoke the heady responses that Draco Malfoy could without even trying. She turned away so he wouldn't see the turmoil raging through her.
"Dear me, I think I've done the impossible," he gloated gently, "Hermione is stumped for an answer! Dear dear, what is the world coming to?"
It was too much. On top of everything else that had happened this evening, Draco's soft taunt was the last straw; the one that broke the camel's back. Hermione felt her throat clogged, and closed her eyes tight to stem the tears that threatened to flow, but they escaped anyway, running down her face in twin rivulets. She knew she was being weak in giving way like this, but she couldn't help it; she was at the end of her emotional tether. It was thanks to her that the Brocklehursts lay unconscious somewhere in this vast manor, and to add to that guilt, she had just committed the ultimate sin – voluntarily kissing a known enemy. She felt sick and miserable at the same time, and tried valiantly to stop her tears, but they kept coming; sliding silently down her cheeks and onto her robes.
A slight sound behind her, made Hermione look round. Draco was staring at her, his eyes huge with shock. "Hermione, I…I didn't mean to… to upset you," he stammered, clearly taken aback at the outcome of his taunt. "Damn it Hermione, I didn't mean it, I just…" he fell silent, clearly at a loss for words. Then as though making his mind up about something, he took Hermione's arm and led her over to one of the seats by the fire, and pushed her into it.
"Here," he said, pushing a freshly laundered handkerchief into her hand and then sitting down beside her.
Taking his handkerchief, Hermione stared at it. Her tears were now subsiding and she rubbed at her swollen eyes with the square of silk in an attempt to clear her vision.
"Are you ok?" Draco asked, in a quiet voice.
There was a silence, safe for the crackling logs, as Hermione stared miserably into the fire. She had to get a grip on herself – and fast – if she wanted to escape with some semblance of dignity. She could feel a headache coming on, but chose to ignore it. Looking up, she encountered Draco's concern gaze fixed on her pale face.
"Fine," she muttered, looking away.
"Hermione, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you…"
If she had been feeling less miserable, she would have laughed to hear Draco Malfoy apologising to her of all people, but she simply shrugged and returned her gaze to the flickering flames of the fire. Contempt, both at herself and him, clawed at her insides bringing out her vindictive streak. She knew what she was about to do was wrong, but she needed to hit out at someone – and who better than a hated foe?
"Don't make me laugh Malfoy," she sneered, "Didn't mean to upset me? That's where your talents lie! It's practically what you were put on this earth to do – upset people and make their lives a misery!"
There was a long and very pregnant pause in which Hermione's temper seethed. She could feel seven years of hate coursing through her, and hoped that she had hit him where it hurt most. The sound of his voice switched her attention back to him and she stared at his face. He looked pale and bloodless in the firelight, apart from two spots of colour high on his cheek bones.
"So," he hissed, leaning forward slightly, and keeping his voice low, "Is that what I get for apologising? Verbal abuse?" He shook his head. "You know, I was feeling genuinely sorry for making you cry, but I see now my guilt was uncalled for. I've come across some twisted people before, but none such as yourself, oh no!"
"And exactly what do you mean by that?" she spat out, her fingers clenched around the sodden handkerchief, crushing it.
"Well," he said, a sneer contorting his face, "I've seen other people – mainly from Slytherin, hit out at others because they can't accept their own weaknesses. It's a pretty common occurrence in fact, but then again, they're unlike you, always preaching honesty and integrity. You know, that's what I can't believe – someone who has gone to the effort of setting up a society fighting for the rights of House-elves, hitting out at me because she can't face the fact that she finds me attractive. Now, that's what I can't get over!"
Hermione's mouth fell open in shock, and she closed it quickly. How had he known her real reason for hitting out at him? This question rose in her mind as she tried to decide what to do next, how to fend him off. She knew she had to keep calm and think rationally, but she knew that once again, he had stripped away the veneer behind which she had been trying to hide.
"You know," he carried on, "I actually admired you, can you believe it?" He gave a derisive laugh which made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, "Yeah, all this time, I have admired the way you got on with people, your ability to inspire confidence in others, and I actually envied those who were your friends – how stupid could I get!"
He snorted in disgust, and getting up strode over to one of the windows facing them. Pulling back the heavy curtains, he gazed out solemnly at the star strewn sky. Hermione watched his back; his shoulders were rigid with tension.
"How gullible I was, and the lengths I went too, just to get you to think better of me!" He murmured half to himself.
Guilt flooded through Hermione, and it was all she could do to stop herself from pleading with him to give her a chance to justify herself. She hated anyone to think badly of her, be they her friends or enemies. It was one thing to be hated because of her muggle heritage – she had got used to this and had long since accepted the snide remarks directed at her from members of the Slytherin population, but to be hated because someone thought she was dishonest – that she could not stand. She knew the time had come for her to bring to the fore some of that Gryffindor courage for which she was so famed.
"I…I'm sorry," she stammered, "I didn't mean to hit out at you, it was just… well, everything and…and…"
"And?"
"And… this evening and everything that happened, it was all too much…and I just didn't know what to think."
To admit a weakness in front of Draco Malfoy was something that took all Hermione's determination. She gritted her teeth, as she sat fiddling with the now fully crumpled handkerchief. She doubted that even Harry, when he had faced the Dragon during the first task of the Tri-Wizard tournament, or even when he had faced all those Dementors alone at the end of their third year, had felt so vulnerable and exposed as she did now. The silence stretched, and the ticking of the antique clock on the mantelpiece sounded like a drum roll in the quiet of the library.
Finally, Draco turned to face her. His expression was bland, although Hermione could have sworn she saw a hint of smugness in the cool grey eyes now regarding her pale face thoughtfully. She braced herself, but he merely stood looking down at her. She felt at a disadvantage; he was at least six inches taller than her while standing and the difference in height was even more noticeable as she was seated. Jumping up, she scowled at him before taking a deep steadying breath, and turning towards the double doors leading into the hall.
"Well, I'm off," she said, taking a few steps forward, "it's high time I left."
"Oh, not so fast," Draco drawled, as he moved swiftly to the doors. He stood with his back to them, cutting off Hermione's escape, "we haven't finished our conversation yet."
"Malfoy, I have nothing more to say to you. Now, if you would kindly get out of my way…" Hermione snapped, but Draco just smiled.
"Ah, but I have a few things to say to you, and you will not leave here until we have settled a few issues that our previous conversation brought up: As you so graciously apologised, I fully accept your apology. Now, shall we begin anew as friends?"
Hermione blinked at this unexpected turn in the conversation. She gripped the sodden handkerchief so tightly; she felt it coming apart in her fingers. A mixture of rage and weariness filled her, causing her to bite her lip. What should she do now? She could pretend to accept his offer and with any luck he would let her go, but his insufferable arrogance made this difficult. Who the hell did he think he was, to talk to her in that condescending way? He made it sound as though he was doing her a huge favour in accepting her apology!
His voice, made her jump, and she looked up at him again. "Of course," he said silkily, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling widely, "it's up to you, but I would have thought you would prefer to keep our little kiss from public knowledge? What would Potter and Weasley say if they knew what you and I had been up to here?" he lifted an elegant eyebrow to emphasise his point.
Hermione felt her heart sink; she had known that giving in to him was a mistake, and now she was reaping the consequences. Sighing inwardly, she looked him squarely in the eye and said, "Blackmail Malfoy? Really, I would have thought better of you. Surely you could do better than that?"
"Oh, that is surely too harsh," he feigned, giving her an innocent wide-eyed look which didn't fool her for a second. "Come now, you are overreacting, all I'm saying is that I'd just like to be friends. This evening has proved that if left to ourselves, we can get on rather well. You can look upon our little kissing sessions as my insurance that you at least try at being friends, since it's unfortunate for me that there are obstacles at Hogwarts, namely your choice of friends. I anticipate that if given a chance, they are likely to destroy any potential for our budding friendship, which would not only be a great pity, but highly unfair on my part."
Hermione knew the time to shelve her pride had come; she had once again been backed into a corner by a Malfoy, and knew that if she didn't agree to what he was saying, her safety would be questionable. Anyway, what would be the harm in agreeing to an attempted friendship with the boy in front of her? It would be easy enough to ensure the friendship fizzled out before it had even got started – a combination of ensuring she was never out of ear-shot of other people in the library and the use of the Marauders map would surely do the trick, and she could not be blamed in any way! Hogwarts, as she well knew, was a big place, and it wasn't as though she was promising to marry him or something as drastic as that. She shrugged and feigned a sigh before saying, "Look Malfoy, you know as well as I do what you're asking is well nigh impossible! I mean, look at us; we're from opposing houses, and practically opposites in everything! Putting aside house rivalries, this term's going to be hectic enough what with our NEWTs coming up! And that's just the major stuff – I haven't even gone into all the other things I'll be expected to carry out in my capacity as Head Girl. I doubt I'll have the chance to spend time with Harry and Ron, let alone someone from a rival house!"
"My dear Hermione, haven't you heard of the saying, where there is a will, there is a way?" he asked, and Hermione could hear the note of triumph in his voice.
"Fine then," she flashed, trying hard to hide her own relief, "I gave you sufficient warning about my schedule. Don't grumble or complain if you find that we hardly see each other because of schoolwork pressure and stuff!"
"Oh, I won't – you can be sure of that." Draco moved away from the doors and glancing at the clock, strode over to her, placed an arm round her shoulders. "Come on, my parents will be wondering what has happened to us. Anyway the Brocklehursts will be coming round soon."
Hermione started guiltily; she had forgotten all about the Brocklehursts in her emotional state. Clearly, Draco had not noticed his father's earlier interruption, and Hermione fervently hoped that Lucius would not refer to it.
They left the library and headed towards the drawing room. As they entered, Hermione saw Narcissa reclining on the sofa, a book open in her lap. Lucius sat opposite her; he too had clearly been reading. The scene spoke of domesticity, and Hermione shivered; how could someone so cold and calculating present such a convincing picture of solidarity when it suited him?
"Ah, you're back," Narcissa smiled, closing her book and placing it on the table beside her, "Hermione, do you like our library?"
"Yes, you have a very fine library," Hermione responded dutifully, as Draco guided her to a sofa, "it holds some rare and fascinating books."
"Oh yes," smirked Lucius, "very rare and fascinating indeed." He glanced at the clock and carried on, "The Brocklehursts should be joining us at any moment now."
"Hermione, in case I don't have a chance to say this later," Narcissa said, "It has been a real pleasure meeting you, and I hope you will come to visit us again!"
"Maybe during the summer break," Lucius suggested blandly, and Hermione knew by the way he looked at her that he remembered all too clearly the scene he had unwittingly witnessed in the library, "after all, anything can happen between now and then!" He gave Hermione a wink, which she ignored, fixing her eyes instead on the drawing room door. As he finished speaking, the door opened, and the four Brocklehursts strode in all smiling. Hermione's first reaction was to exclaim with relief, but she wasn't given the chance.
"We thought we'd come in as it is getting a little cold out there," Emily began. "Anyway, it saves you the trouble of coming out again."
Mandy, spotting Hermione came to sit by her, a puzzled frown creasing her brow. Leaning towards Hermione, she whispered, "You feeling better now?"
Mystified, Hermione stared back, not having a clue as to what Mandy was talking about.
"Erm," she started, but Narcisa interrupted with a smile, "Oh yes, she is fine now, I think the food didn't agree with poor Hermione's constitution. A terrible pity! When I came in, she was just coming round – such a useful potion!"
"Well," Adrian said, "You missed an interesting tour Hermione, but then I suppose gardens aren't your thing."
"Gracious, look at the time," Mrs Brocklehurst gasped, "we ought to be going! Lucius, Narcissa, this has been a wonderful evening!"
Goodbyes were exchanged, and in the confusion, Hermione didn't have a chance to speak to any of the Malfoys to ask what the Brocklehursts were talking about. She tried to catch Narcissa's eye a few times, but the other woman simply didn't respond to Hermione's pleading look. Draco however, caught Hermione's eye, and smirked knowingly.
Finally, after half an hour of exchanging niceties, the Brocklehursts and Hermione were preparing to take Mrs Brocklehurst's Portkey back to the Brocklehurst Manor. As she placed a finger on the coin being held out by her hostess, Hermione glanced at Narcissa Malfoy once more, and was shocked to see the satisfied smirk playing about her mouth. Next moment, the Portkey had activated and she, along with the Brocklehursts, was being whisked away.
As Hermione's feet hit solid earth once more she blinked, and the hall of the Brocklehurst Manor came into focus.
"Now, off to bed with you," Mrs Brocklehurst chided, "it is very late, way past the time you girls should be in bed. Hermione my dear, are you feeling better? Narcissa said that the potion they gave you to cure your headache and settle your stomach, can result in you feeling a bit disorientated, and cause slight short-term memory loss."
"No wonder Hermione looked a bit dazed when we came in just now," Mr Brocklehurst said, "I was beginning to worry!"
"Oh no," explained his wife, "Hermione was just suffering the after effects of that potion, that's all!"
'How convenient,' Hermione thought as she followed Mandy up the stairs, 'that I should have suffered slight memory loss! Trust Narcissa to come up with something that would account for any 'memory' mishaps on my part.'
She was now sure that the Brocklehursts' memories had all been tampered with – the Malfoys would have had ample time in which to cover their tracks. Curiosity getting the better of Hermione, she said to Mandy, "Actually Mandy, as it happens, I do feel a bit vague – my brain feels like cotton wool."
Mandy laughed, leading the way into Hermione's suite, "Narcissa said you would feel like that. OK, what was the last thing you remember?" She sat down and Hermione was grateful for Mandy's trusting nature – she would not think it in the least odd that Hermione could not remember the last two hours very well, and would tell her what she needed to know without thinking twice.
"Well," Hermione hedged pretending to screw up her face in thought, "my last clear memory is of us drinking coffee after we had both sung, and after that it was all a bit confusing."
"Yeah, it fits the timeline," Mandy nodded, "Narcissa said the potion will affect the last two hours' worth of memories. Don't worry, the fuzziness wears off after a while – you'll be back to normal in the morning. OK, once we'd all finished our coffee, the Malfoys offered to give us a tour of the house. We all went out of the drawing room to go upstairs to their private art gallery. There was loads of stuff there – you know, paintings by famous people and some very lovely sculptures. Well, we were looking at them, when you said that you felt sick. Mum and Narcissa got you out of the room and I followed. You threw up in the bathroom, and then said you had a headache. You didn't look very well; you were all pale and clammy. Anyway, Narcissa said she had this potion that would soon put you right, but that it had the side effect of temporary memory loss and hence wasn't very popular."
Hermione gulped, this was more ingenious than she had first thought. She nodded, and Mandy carried on speaking.
"Mum was really worried about you, and Narcissa spent some time convincing her that the potion was fine. Well, they gave it to you and you fell asleep. One of the house elves took you downstairs back to the drawing room; Lucius said it was warm in there and that you should be kept warm."
Hermione noticed that Mandy was talking in a flat expressionless voice, as though she were reading from a book. Hermione knew this was an effect of having false memories planted in the mind – the person was unable to make sense of the alien memories, and simply recited the memories as though reading from a script. She sighed and returned her attention once more to Mandy.
"So, the house elf took you downstairs, and we proceeded to the grounds. Oh, Hermione, you should have seen them! They had the nicest gardens imaginable; every variety of plant you can think of. Mum and Dad were entranced—"
'I'll bet they were,' thought Hermione wryly.
"—Then about an hour and half later, Narcissa said she was going to check on you. Lucius said there was some article on some plant he had that would interest Dad, and that he would fetch it for him, if dad would wait a moment. I was getting a bit cold and shivered, so Draco said he would fetch me a shawl – wasn't that sweet of him?"
'Yeah, very sweet,' Hermione thought sarcastically, as she narrowed her eyes.
"—Anyway, there was all this fuss about leaving us alone in the garden, but finally they went back inside. As soon as they'd gone, Adrian began to complain he was bored, and so we all went in too. When we entered the drawing room, there you were, sitting up. That's about it really. Mum then took note of the time and had a fit at the lateness of the hour, and we finally said our farewells, and came home," Mandy ended, her glassy eyes turning towards her friend.
"Yeah, I'm starting to remember now," Hermione lied. Getting up, she stretched and yawned. Taking the cue, Mandy too got up, and after wishing Hermione good night, left the room. Hermione went over to the window, mulling over the night's events.
Relief at being away from the Malfoys coursed through her as she stood at the window. She stared at the clear star strewn sky and had to marvel at the ingenuity of the Malfoy family. It must have taken some doing to ensure every moment was accounted for in the Brocklehursts' altered memories. She wondered where the Brocklehursts had woken up, and accepted the fact that she would probably never find out. Maybe she could ask Draco, and at the thought of him, her fingers clenched on the curtains.
Even now, she could not explain why she had responded to his kisses like that. She supposed he had caught her when she was at her most vulnerable – at least, that was what she hoped. But a small truthful part of her wondered; wondered if it was because of something deeper and more disturbing. Tomorrow, she would go back to Hogwarts, and try and put this evening behind her. She had a lot to talk over with Ginny – the only friend who would understand. Ginny would help her make sense of what the Malfoys had professed to saying, and… maybe between the two of them, they could work out what the Malfoys' motives were. She would also have to start dealing with Draco Malfoy's attempts at friendship. At this thought, her stomach clenched, she would have to tread very carefully around him.
Wearily, she made her way to bed, deciding to put the night's worries out of her mind. There was plenty of time to analyse that evening's events and come up with a plan to deal with Draco Malfoy and his supposed friendship later. For now, she needed to sleep, and so yawning widely, she undressed, and climbed gratefully beneath the sheets.