7.
Wow...I give a miniscule threat of leaving this fic, and I receive a great outpouring of love. Thank you all!!!!
I really appreciate the reviews, especially the one's that are full of constructive criticism. Keep that up folks; it really helps me, even telling me you favorite aspect of a chapter tells me what it is that you enjoy. (Some people really liked my using French...:-P)
Well, this is a chapter that is supposed explain Draco a bit, but not entirely. Just keep reading. I will eventually reveal all....
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Draco and Hermione held what must have looked like to an outside observer, a staring contest for about two minutes. The steely reverie was broken by Draco rapidly blinking his almost translucent eyelashes, and looking away in ill- disguised discomfort.
Hermione did not make a sound, only making her eyes wide and placing a questioning look on her face.
"Let's eat first." Said Draco finally, picking up both his fork and knife in a very European manner, began cutting his steak into to miniscule pieces, and chewing slowly while keeping the fork and knife in his hands. Hermione grudgingly stabbed a piece of mozzarella from among the greens, and began eating. It was hard to enjoy the salty cheese with the anxiety she was feeling. She didn't know what he would say, and was honestly a little frightened.
It was rather sadistic, but she was hoping that he would give her a small reason to distrust him, something she would be able to hold against him. She was a smart witch, supposedly the best of her generation, and she recognized the odd power and control that Draco had been given by some high officials, and it disturbed her. It wasn't right. She had personally looked through the files years ago when she was digging up information against Krum. The file on Draco Malfoy was massive. Report after report of sighting him at Death Eater meetings, perhaps a personal involvement in the torture and murder of a first year muggle born during their seventh year. The theories and reports had gone on for reams and reams of parchment.
Now, here he stood ten years later, supposedly pardoned for everything and Hermione didn't believe one word of it...
"Well?" she said an hour later, after they had spent an awkwardly silent time eating and were starting on their dessert. The ministry was paying, Draco had informed her, and so she had chosen a slice of caramel and vanilla cheesecake on a whim. She picked at the graham cracker crust with her dessert fork, and finally put a little in her mouth.
Draco spooned aimlessly at his tiramisu and, and didn't reply. She tried again.
"I won't sit here forever Malfoy. You either tell me, or I'm off. I'm not putting myself into a situation where I have to rely on only your word." She said firmly.
"It's not that I have a desire to mislead you Granger, contrary to what you may think." He said with a sarcastic drawl.
"Well, what's stopping you then?" she said archly, with the appearance of concentrating on her cake. It was good, not too sweet and not too cloying. But she found the expensive dessert hard to enjoy.
"Because everyone agrees, including Dumbledore and you precious Longbottem, that are you are much too emotional an individual, and wouldn't like what I had to say. You would fly off the handle before I could justify what I was doing."
Hermione slowly, with utter control of her emotions laid down her fork on the plate.
She would not get angry...
She would not get angry...
"Well, all I can say is "Try me Malfoy." ".
"Very well. You asked for it."
She leaned back in the wicker chair, and folded her arms again, her right hand close to the pocket that held her wand.
"I suppose you could say it started in school. Father had been taking me to meetings since I was five. You have to understand, in my family, The Dark Lord was our life. We consorted only with Dark followers. I know the ins and outs of everything by the time I was ten, and I'm sure if let to my own devices I could have become a tiny little terror and killed as many people as I wanted. I genuinely had a desire to do so," he said with a dead tone. Hermione was already appalled at the idea, but not surprised. He continued.
"But Hogwarts got in the way. I was surrounded all the time by low borns, and muggle mudbloods (Hermione flinched), and worst of all by Albus Dumbledore, the enemy of all Dark Servants. He always seemed to know when I was secretly plotting something and seemed to clamp down. Not in a showy manner mind you, but just enough. So of course I got "Daddy Dearest" to help "free" me in second year." He paused to spoon some crème into his mouth, then picked a strawberry out of his dish and chewed on it thoughtfully. Hermione kept herself from screaming at the interruption. Finally he swallowed and resumed talking.
"You know how I tried getting Dumbledore sacked I assume? Didn't work though, he was too damn clever. Not that I was smart enough to realize what was going on. I just kept trying to get rid of him. All the way to sixth year. Father kept taking me to meetings too. But something happened you know. It stopped being all fun and torture." Draco gave a crooked grin, and Hermione wondered how someone could think of it as a catchphrase, "Fun and Torture"
"It was starting to get more serious. Especially fourth year, when the Dark Lord returned, Crabbe and Goyle got initiated, they were death eaters by fifth year with the mark burned into them like everyone else. Except for me. Father wanted my initiation to be different. He wanted to make mine more...memorable." Again the sardonic broken smile appeared on his face, and Hermione genuinely started to feel scared. It was a look of someone who was almost...deranged. She tightened her grip on her wand.
"And what was so special?" asked Hermione quietly with a measured amount of calm.
Draco stood up from his chair, wiping his mouth with the embroidered napkin.
"Let's go." He said picking up his brief, and dropping some Galleons on the table.
"But-"she protested, getting up nonetheless.
"Just come with me. Let's find a better place to speak."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Father wanted me to succeed him as head of the sect. Wormtougue was weak, we all knew that. He would most likely not make it through our impending war." He continued as they walked along a more deserted street that Hermione recognized as a path that might lead to Knockturn Alley. She shivered, as she felt the damp atmosphere immediately chill the air. Impulsively, she glanced down at the pearl bracelet watch. 3:45 pm. Damn, she would have to cut this airing of grievances short if she wanted to avoid raising anger in her "best friend but minx" (as Harry had told her once).
"So Father gave me a sort of mission when I came home during the summer hols after second year. He said if I carried it out, I would be worshipped by the Servants. Become second only to the Lord. If only I could accomplish what no one had done before..." he trailed off, stopping suddenly.
Hermione nearly crashed into his back violently, but succeeded in only bumping her nose. Hard. While she rubbed it with her hand annoyed, Draco turned and looked at her.
"I...You don't want to hear this." He said quickly.
"Malfoy, if you want me to even consider following through with this mission, you will tell me." She said strength entering her voice, which was muffled by her hand on her nose.
"Fine. But you asked for it." He said, pausing again.
"Go on." She said impatiently.
"My mission was to kill the Boy Who Lived. And to bring in his friends for torture. And at the same time, kill one Albus Dumbledore, high enemy to the Dark Lord."
Hermione reeled back, physically. She stared at Draco. She knew it. He was pure evil. He always was, and he always would be.
"Hermione ...you have to understand, I-"
He was interrupted abruptly as Hermione swung her left arm back and slapped him in the face. Hard.
Draco stepped back with a shocked look, his large square hand covering his cheek which was rapidly turning red.
"You utter snake. You ...bastard!" she hissed. Breathing heavily she turned on her heel, and began to walk opposite of where they had come from, leaving an utterly stunned Draco standing forlornly behind her.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A tear slipped down her face and Hermione angrily wiped it off her cheek with the back of her hand. She stopped in front of Florentine's Fine Ice Cream, and pulled out her compact to look at her face and make sure not a hair was out of place, and realized her eyes were red. Angrily she snapped it shut. Pulling out a few Knuts, she purchased a cup of peach sorbet and walked to the end of the marketplace where Weasly's Wizarding Couture was located. The treat cooled off her temperament a little, and she chucked the container in a nearby bin. She stopped in front of the impressive building and stood wondering what to do.
She hated being fitted; it was one of the most uncomfortable practices in her opinion. She liked to shop in Muggle department stores where everything was on the rack and ready. But this was Ginny's wedding and she did not want to be the "difficult one". The building was a deep purple (why was that Ginny's favorite color? She wondered) with a large pane of glass with the store's name painted on in a shimmering script that was always changing colors. The mannequins in the storefront eerily without faces, changed their poses every few minutes as though on the catwalk themselves.
Among all her siblings, Ginny's merchandise was the farthest reaching, especially among the wives and girlfriends of other celebrity Quidditch players. This was how Ginny had started to spread her name in England. The trend of her clothes had spread as far as France, and she had become an established designer. Now she was swamped with orders, and since she specialized in couture, every dress had to be designed especially for the ones who ordered. She was back ordered ever since she had gone on the world tour with Harry, and now that the new sports season had started, Ginny was back at work, trying to finish all that she could before her wedding soon.
Suddenly the door opened with a crash, bringing Hermione out of her reverie. She looked curiously at the man that was holding the door open, and who was ogling her himself. He was quite a character by the looks of it. Long black hair was swept back with pomade, his mustache fairly curled at the edges, and a suave goatee covered his chin. He was wearing a stylish purple robe over a white suit with a rose in the buttonhole.
"Senorita....to what do I owe this honor?" he breathed out. He stepped forward, and suddenly grabbed her hand and began kissing it. He fell on one knee. "You are...a vision! Please! You must let me design for you! Such elegance, such beauty, such...such...-"
"-an ability to be late?" finished Ginny standing in the doorway, her hand on her hip. Her willowy frame was reminiscent of her brother Ron. She was still wearing the dress that Hermione had seen her in Dumbledore's office in, but her long auburn hair was now piled on her head with a jeweled pin.
"4:15 Hermione." She said mockingly. "You of all people are supposed to be the one who is punctilious." She looked at the strange man, and sighed. "Miguel, do let her go. That's my maid of honor, not one of the hussies you find on the street to design for."
Hermione managed to pull her (now rather wet) hand out of Miguel's grip, and stepped over his prostrate figure towards Ginny. As they walked toward her back fitting room, Ginny leaned over to whisper in her ear.
"Don't mind Miguel. He's the Spaniard fellow I hired a while back. He's really very lovely, and he works hard, he's just rather....eccentric?" She whispered Ginny.
"I think you mean downright balmy." Hermione whispered back. The two giggled a little, but the smile was wiped right off of Hermione's face when she saw the sight before her. The large room was enchanted like Dumbledore's office, though not nearly as large. In the center stood three of Ginny's assistants, one of whom hastily stubbed out a cigarette at the sight of her boss. The entire room seemed to be swathed in bolts of an emerald colored satin. And everywhere were sketches of dresses, some that made Hermione cringe. Miguel suddenly walked in behind them. He seemed to slide into the center of the room, clapped his hands and then threw them in the air. The assistants scattered, all getting various supplies.
"Senorita Granger, let us begin!" he cried. Hermione felt herself pulled onto a small platform and sighed.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"You have a lovely sized bust. Perfectly in proportion to your flower like hips." Miguel breathed suavely at Hermione. Ginny stifled a laugh at Hermione's exasperated expression. She had been measured over and over again by Miguel and his assistants, and all he had offered her so far were compliments on her measurements.
"Er, Miguel?" Said Ginny who was "supervising" from a corner, though Hermione suspected she was only here to watch the debacle. "Hermione needs to get back to her apartment by eight. Can we start the fabric now please?" Hermione realized that Ginny was aware of the time crunch of the mission; she was supposed to be at the Weasly twins' store by nine thirty. If she accepted the mission now.
"But of course. Vámanos!" he shrieked at the assistants who looked quite put out themselves. They were tired too, as Hermione realized when two of them jabbed her with their pins.
"Sorry miss!" said the smoking one, who had re-lighted during the hour much to Hermione's displeasure, after she had given a little shriek of pain.
Ginny got up from her corner, and Hermione felt her knees lock up as the next two hours passed by with Ginny authoritatively making cuts and marks with her fabric pen.
Soon, the dressmaker's torso in the corner had the entire dress pieced together with pins. It was too low cut for Hermione's taste, though it had a nice bodice and skirt, with thin straps. Hermione was too tired to protest, and was increasingly anxious about whether she would appear in the resource room of Weasly's Wizarding Wheezes soon.
As she left the store into the night (Miguel kissing her hand again) she made her way past the inns and bustling restaurants in the night. Her thoughts in turmoil she stopped at the village square, and sat on the edge of the fountain that was decorated with figures of centaurs, nymphs and birds. She trailed her fingers in the pink water, wondering what she would do. She wanted nothing to do with Draco Malfoy, her experience today only increasing her distrust. But she had given her word. And the temptation to finally get rid of all sign of the Dark Mark was strong. She wanted to get rid of one of the signs of what made her miserable today.
She whispered the words she needed to apparate, and with a pop, she ended up back in her disheveled apartment.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She walked towards the kitchen, fully intending to make a cup of tea before making any sitting down to an hour of thought on what to do. As she neared she sink, she stopped as she saw the two cups and saucers that she and Draco had been drinking from that morning, lying next to the counter where she had hastily put them to wash later.
Suddenly, she realized her mind was made up.
As the tea kettle whistled an hour later, Hermione pulled out the packet of Glamour from her pocket. She poured the contents into her teacup, and put the packet with its spell written on it by Fred (or was it George?) in her skirt pocket. She had freshened up a bit, and now stood in her clothes sans her robe and shoes.
"Well..." she said out loud to herself, "here goes nothing."
And she downed the contents of the cup down her throat.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A.N- well what do you think?
Please read and review! Thank you soooo much for your support, it literally took me by surprise. I went from about 4 comments to 21! It feeds my ego, it really does. Now, when you give some feedback, tell me what you want to see more of. Do you like the tense moments? Do you like the drama? Do you like hearing about Ginny and Harry? Do you really like Miguel? I should mention that Miguel is Miguel. He is not a conspirator, or anyone really essential to the plot. I just really like Miguel, he's a total dandy of a character. So hands off of him!
Teaser! Teaser!- Hermione sees Draco again after causing him some consternation, and becomes someone else entirely...and she feels a little good (though she thinks she shouldn't be...) about it...