The Dragon Box

Disclaimer: As usual.

Paris. A city of crazy lights, the Eiffel Tower, Musée de Louvre, so many things. And of course, the major thing.

Fashion.

It was almost a Mecca for all fashion mad people. And with the anticipation of a season change, it was jammed. The smells, the sights, the people. Miraculously chic clothes. Nothing but fashion. And of course, what Hermione really planned on getting.

Besides indulging herself in designer accessories. Namely Chanel. She'd gone on a crazy shopping spree.

Jewelry. Gemstones. Things for the shop. She had the money, the time, the leisure. And of course, just in case, and also rather unfortunately, a bodyguard. That was of course, her fault for hiring him.

Malfoy.

He was walking so coolly with her. And unfortunately, or maybe fortunately he was disgustingly fluent in French. In the hustle and bustle of shoppers, he edged her neatly through, almost as impersonal as she. Or maybe more. She forced herself to forget what had happened at the villa. Unfortunately, at the hotel—grief, this was money, but fortunately her shop had enough, due to Laura's ingenuity—at night in the darkness, she would remember the sunshine and freedom.

As it were, she knew that he had remarkable knowledge of gemstones, and was professional, probably why she hired him. And something about him usually cowed the mad idiots who looked at Hermione like they wanted nothing more than to rip her off.

He was a valuable asset.

&&&&&&&

It was, as usual another shopping day. And this particular day was a full schedule in terms of gemstone searching. So far, with two remaining days in France, they had done remarkably well. They just needed a couple more things.

He had felt his boss's elation when she purchased quite a few watches from Cartier. The joy of finally acquiring high class goods was evident under the layered, smooth 'buying face' exterior. Half a ton of things were neatly placed in the safe. The other half were placed safe smuggled in every body's suitcase or box.

He had seen the way Potter had narrowed his eyes, not trusting him with the implicitly precious objects. And maybe he had the right. After all, one of these would buy him his ticket back to freedom, riches, and just possibly, respect. Fat chance. He knew that. Besides, he was playing honest. Until it suited him otherwise. But it didn't seem like that would be possible for quite a while.

At any rate.

He and Miss Granger, unaccompanied because of the fact that she always found it so much easier to work by themselves, had hit all major stops. All major areas. And now, it was time to go backstreet. It was another reason why they were alone. He knew that most of the others didn't have the guts to take her on the other side of the street.

It suited him perfectly. He had been high class, but after all, his was a criminal family. The thought brought a smirk to his face. This was his element. And maybe, just maybe, they'd survive.

It turned out that after all Granger possessed one of the coolest heads and sharpest tongues. He'd tested her, or possibly vice versa, yesterday when she had neatly stopped into a little, sleaze's shop quite quickly. The woman was versatile. Her neat, cool, clipped French guarded her, and when they left, they were the owners of a huge amount of black pearls. A necklace.

He knew they hadn't been stolen.

They were old Malfoy pearls. Just seeing them made him even more determined to get them back.

He loved them.

Hermione looked back at him, eyes half shone in the side street.

She stopped. "That shop?"

He stared at it. Little, but no doubt not quite respectable. Just what he loved. And he knew to avoid stolen goods. So did she. "Perfect."

She nodded, and her heels clicked as she stepped into the little area of space.

Inside, dull gleams shimmered around him. Soft white flashes of pearls passed him. One look and he could see that they were fake goods. Genuine was perfection. And he turned and sent a cold glance at her. It said plainly Watch your back. The grim smile that was passed back didn't look like it was the smile that Ginny knew. It was more predatory with absolutely no warmth.

She looked like an angel, but played like the devil.

Oh yes, he stood by his previous statement. She was plainly a woman of contrasts. Or not so plainly. He brushed the summer evening out of his head.

The shopkeeper materialized out of the shadows. A small stocky main, his eyes held plainly the greedy hope for wealth. Malfoy felt his lip curl. An instinctive move, bred into him.

The shopkeeper shrunk back.

"Greetings," said the Frenchman, in heavily accented English. "What is that you wish?"

He shrugged. "Possibly something of use." His voice was drawling, and his attitude said obviously that he didn't think much of the place. Hermione looked up. Her expression showed a tinge of surprise.

Why be? He was a Malfoy. And he knew exactly how to degrade a shopkeeper—and his prices. The man obviously that that he was the devil himself. How surprising.

The man bristled, but was obviously a bit too scared to say anything. He felt delighted. It had been too long since he'd done this. People thought they had seen his bad side. Ha.

Hermione then curious, asked him a question about a pair of earrings. She knew that she already had a necklace of pearls. The earrings completed the set.

The man's face lit up. "Those, ah, those are the fine pearls, non? Black, excellent colour. Orient good. Tres belle."

"Save the appraisals. The price."

He told her.

"An absurd price. I will check other places. In the meanwhile . . ." She got them, at a very low price.

He looked over his side of the store. A couple of unset gemstones shimmered. Amber, to be exact. Beautiful stone. Also, though they would not need it now, autumn and gold tints seemed a perfect match. He called the man's attention to him.

"May I?"

The man pulled them out for him.

Neatly, coolly, he began the appraisal. It seemed genuine. Beautiful colour, rather old, elegant. The faint lingering smell seemed to be correct. When he had finished with that particular one, he checked another piece.

Meanwhile, Hermione was checking on her side of the shop. She saw several things that she would have liked, but either had already or they were unnecessary. The price was no problem, as she knew how to bring that done. Malfoy was staring at pieces of amber.

She looked up at the Frenchman, who obviously thought that she was going to be the easier one to rip off. Malfoy's sneer reduced him to jelly. Actually, she thought, he had that effect on most people. Just for different reasons.

She looked up at the man. "Have you nothing better?"

He looked rather nettled. "But of course." Piece after piece he laid before her.

At last, she said, "Nothing meets my interest."

The man looked even more peeved, then she saw a shrewd smile flick across his face. He thought he had her now.

He disappeared into the back, and she waited.

Hermione suddenly stared at what he held in his hand. A rosewood box, intricately carved. On the top was an intricate carving of a dragon. A carved M was in a corner. This box possessed the age of centuries. An almost strange aura passed around it.

The man opened the box. Hermione fought for the last shred of control, even as she stared down at the find of a century. Unset gems were eying her, almost human. Twelve of them, a birthstone set. Each of them was staring at her, drawing her in with the spell. This was something she hadn't seen yet. Every one of them had a mysterious, enigmatic aura.

One would have been captivating enough. Twelve was worse. Sparkling facets gleamed at her, except for the pearl. The lustre was perfection, a cool black creamy eye.

Perfect. Each followed the rules. All nestled in cream satin.

She stared at him. "This is actually worth seeing."

Draco heard the words, and more importantly heard the background tone behind them. Enchanted allure. Almost as if she was . . .

He stepped full across the room.

And when he saw what he saw, he only hissed a few words. Barely audible.

"Merde. Fils de une pétasse." French was another of his languages. It happened to be his second one. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. It just wasn't real.

"Do you see? This is actually worth buying."

He shut the cover, and the carved wood looked at him. "I'll buy it," he informed the man.
"As well as the amber."

The Frenchman looked happy. Hermione, however, wasn't.

She turned to argue. He caught her wrist and applied very light pressure to the pulse spot. It was a subtle, warning gesture. "As a gift." He brushed a kiss across her cheek.

He bargained the price, and paid the man considerably less than he asked for. Then, with the box safely in a bag, under his arm, he left the shop, with Hermione, who was carrying the amber.

As soon as they were out of any type of ear shot, she blew up.

"What were you thinking of back there? That was my purchase!" she said, obviously furious.

"It's no wonder that Potter is frightened to leave you alone," he said, with his voice cold as ice.

She interrupted. "Let's leave my orders from Harry out of this. Explain yourself!"

"He's right on one count. You really shouldn't be left alone. And it's just as well you have me for company when the first thing you walk off and try to do without supervision is buy cursed gems!"

"Crackpot lie. How do you know?"

He lost it completely now. "You fool. And it's a good thing you're my employer, or I'd have called you worse! You think that when a box is engraved with a dragon, makes you lose your senses that I can't tell it's cursed? You think that the dragon was for an accident? You think that M was an accident?! Well, it wasn't. And I'll tell you why. Dragon. Draco. Same thing. It's practically a name tag. Complete with the end."

She looked uncertain, and definitely scared.

"Draco M. The M, by the way," he said sarcastically, "stands for Malfoy. It's a Malfoy heirloom."

"And you wanted it back."

His laugh was short, unamused. More like a snarl. "Hell no. But you think you're walking off with it? Only a Malfoy can own this box—and its contents— without being cursed. I sold it in England. Do you think the fact that it's in France is an accident?"

Her voice was cool. "So what about your mother, when she owned it for a while?"

He shot her a look of exasperation. He knew very well she was just being difficult. "Fool," he said. "She was married to a Malfoy."

He caught her arm, and very neatly dragged her to the train station. "We're going back," he said. "And from now on, you aren't walking around unsupervised."

He didn't care how much she fumed at him. It didn't matter.

Back safely in the hotel room, he put the box in the secret compartment in his trunk. It was just a little fuller than it had been when he had left. Kevyn, still his roommate, wasn't there. He was probably out with Laura. He heard Hermione leave with Ginny. He was alone.

As usual.

It was absolute bliss. The box that was hidden in the suitcase was one of the most important heirlooms. He'd found the non cursed black pearls that he loved. Somehow, his life was going according to some kind of plan. He consulted his notebook, and smiled. He had, or the shop had, same difference, filled requirements, complete with stock. Right on schedule. His job, so far was done. All that remained was the little feathery beaded things that the women, would buy. The drapes for the windows.

Yes, he was done. So far.

Ryan suddenly popped up.

"Draco. Hello!"

"Ryan. Hi."

"I've got them." She spilled them all over the bed, beaded, fluffy things and feathers and pieces of coloured glass.

"Hold it! This is my bed, I don't want feathers!"

She laughed merrily. "No matter. In a couple of days, we're going back to England. Dull, but true."

He agreed. "Ah, well, price we must pay. See you later."

She left. And she smiled. If only anyone knew. But she would guard the secret with her life.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Well, here we are. They're going to leave France soon. Unless, of course, you people review to say you want to hear more from France. Then again . . .