A/N: As always, thanks for reading and reviewing. Keep it up, please. Reviews are what keep my juices flowing.
Special Notes:
Yellowrosesinateacup: Thanks for your sweet review!
The flight to Malfoy Manor was not long, and after two after two grueling hours on the broomstick, the rolling greens of the plantation and the lush stables in the field were a welcome sight to Hermione. As Draco began to let the broom decline, she dug her fingers tighter into the fabric of his button-up. Draco's hand hadn't moved once the entire trip, not even to itch. This revelation made her feel a mixture of emotions, she was confused but also content, she was afraid but also delighted. As they neared the ground and the Manor came into the view, she felt her chest tighten. As different as felt her in dress, she was just starting to realize that her very skin was a bulls-eye, that her face was a target for danger. If Mr. Malfoy recognized her--she couldn't even bear to imagine what might happen. Draco landed the broom softly against the grass and lay it down, adjusting his tie. Hermione smoothed her dress, which had bunched up around her hips, and sucked in a deep breath.
"Take it down a notch Granger, you look like you're about to faint," Draco gave her the once over, frowning.
"Look," Hermione began through gritted teeth, "If you were in my position, you'd be just as nervous, Malfoy."
"I am in your position." Draco glared at her for a minute before turning his head to the manor. "Come on, Granger." She nodded, swallowed, and followed him toward the house.
Malfoy Manor was a large, bucolic house, one that seemed full of history and character. It's outer-shell was white with green accents and even though the paint was starting to peel, it managed to look elegant. It was house that seemed far too worn for a family of sophistication, like the Malfoys. A veranda encircled the house. Hermione smiled and imagined sitting on the veranda, iced tea in hand, and watching the sun go down. Once again, a far too romantic touch to the seemingly cold Malfoy way. As the two clambered up the steps, each one creaking with the weight, the front door opened slowly.
"Master Malfoy!" A round women with curly red hair ran towards him, arms outstretched.
"Hello Greta. How's the house been?" Draco gave the woman a quick embrace.
"Your father's been in quite the delightful mood lately." Draco turned to Hermione and put his arm around her shoulders.
"Greta, this is Layla Wilkins, my date for the evening. Layla, this is Greta, our housekeeper." Hermione winced. Layla? Draco certainly hadn't discussed this choice of name with her. Hermione gently shook Greta's hand, smiling warmly.
"It's nice to meet you, Greta." The woman nodded jovially and beckoned them into the home.
The interior was just a rustically charming as the exterior. It's wallpaper, gently peeling from the corners of the walls, was a green, and white floral print and the hardwood floors were dark and shiny. The furniture seemed antique as well, and this made Hermione feel at home. Her mother had a certain affinity for antique stores.
"This is lovely." Hermione's eyes scanned the entryway, taking everything in."It was built in the late19th century. Most of the furniture is authentic."
"Wow. It's quite large."
"Ten bedrooms, not including servants quarters." Draco tugged her at the crook of the arm. "Time to meet father." Hermione's breath caught in her chest. She followed Draco through the front hallway, through a sitting room, and into a large ballroom filled with people. The ballroom was stunning, all mahogany wood and gold adornments. Lucius was standing towards the double doors, talking quietly with another man.
"Father." Draco approached his father, forcing a nervous smile.
"Draco. You made it." Lucius squeezed Draco's shoulder, smiling tightly. "Raquel, you remember my son, Draco?" The man nodded. "And who are you?" Lucius raised his eyebrows as he inspected Hermione's petite form.
"This is Layla," Draco wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her in, "she's a sixth year in Slytherin."
"Ah. What's your surname?"
"Uh, Wilkins, sir."
"Wilkins? Your mother and father didn't tell me you'd be here. Are they aware?" Hermione chewed her lip nervously, before Draco elbowed her, urging her to speak.
"Eh..no. It was a last minute thing, Mr. Malfoy."
"I'm sure they'll be pleased to see you. I've heard quite a bit about you. I believe they're across the room. I'll get them."
"Oh, no. That's all right."
"Don't be silly. I'll be right back." Lucius held up one finger and turned to fetch Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins.
"You couldn't just make up a name?" Hermione was glaring at Draco, hands placed on her hips.
"I didn't know they'd be here. Let's go." Draco and Hermione dashed out of the ballroom, panting.
"What are we going to do?" Hermione was glancing nervously around.
Draco pulled his wand from his pocket and tapped it against his thigh for a second, thinking. "Oh, no. I'm not letting you do magic on me."
"If you don't, Granger, we won't pull this off."
"Fine…fine. But if you turn me into a toad or something, I'll kill you!"
"Yeah, how? By ribbiting me to death?"
"Ha-ha. Very funny." Draco pulled out his wand.
"Formius Vimal Wilkins Layla." A purple light spanned from the tip of his wand and Hermione could feel her shape changing. Her skin seemed to stretch as she grew a few inches and her chest expanded. She was now an exact replica of Layla Wilkins.
"That's an advanced glamour! How do you even know how to do that?"
"Being in my family has a few advantages," Draco slipped his wand back into his pocket, "Now go fast and make nice. The spell doesn't last long, only fifteen minutes or so."
"How do I act?"
"I don't know. Just act like Layla does." Draco gestured toward the double doors.
"Okay…so I should giggle inanely and flaunt my breasts?"
"Exactly." He gripped her hand and tugged her in the ballroom after him.
"Son, we've been looking for you two!" Lucius approached them, Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins in tow.
"Hi, Mum. Hi, Dad." Hermione smiled up at the two blondes. Lucius was looking at her strangely.
"Did you change, my dear?" Lucius was eyeing her.
"I took my hair down." She smiled that overly large smile and she could imagine her teeth gleaming in the candlelight.
"Layla, you didn't tell us you'd be here!" Mrs. Wilkins leaned down and gave Hermione two kisses to each cheek.
"I just found out, mum." Mrs. Wilkins giggled and slapped a hand playfully to her husband's chest.
"Oh, Chester. I don't think she's called me Mum since she was seven or eight. I'm so used to Diana. It sounds foreign."
"I guess Hogwarts has left me feeling nostalgic." Layla's parents looked utterly perplexed at Hermione's words. Perhaps Layla didn't normally speak three syllable words?
"Well, Layla, I guess that must be it," Chester rubbed his hand across her back, "I had no idea you knew Draco." Chester winked, grinning.
"Oh, we're old friends." Draco ran a hand down Hermione's blonde hair. "You have quite the lovely daughter."
"She does have a fair face," Diana smiled softly, "Just like me years ago."
"I think Draco and I are going to see the baby." Hermione pressed the toe of her heels against Draco's ankle. "Bye!" She waved to them, cheerily, and pulled Draco after her.
"That was humiliating."
"I don't think you dumbed yourself down enough," Draco said critically. The pair approached the crib, which was situated in the corner of the ballroom. A crowd was gathered around it. Draco pushed through to the bassinet, which was clad in black silk. He and Hermione peered over the edge, curiously. Tynan looked normal enough. A plain baby, if not a bit chubby. A thin layer of blonde hair covered his head. His eyes were brown, so dark they seemed black.
"No one in my family has brown eyes," Draco noticed. "We all have blue or green." Tynan cooed and Hermione couldn't help but be in awe of the child. He was dressed in a black gown, much like a baptismal outfit. Draco pointed his finger at Tynan and he gripped it tightly, smiling. Draco pushed the edge of the gown upwards, inspecting. Nothing. Just lots of smooth baby pudge. He checked the head. Normal. He pushed up the right sleeve of the baby's gown. Normal. He slid up the left sleeve of the gown. Normal. Except for the hint of black he could see peeking from the edge of the pushed up sleeve. He pushed it up further and felt his heart begin to beat faster. A tattoo shone mockingly against the baby's pale shoulder, it's black ink deeply entombed in the flesh. The symbol was one he didn't recognize, which surprised him, because he was fascinated with symbols and signs. It was a circle, the interior containing an upside down cross, the exterior surrounded by 6 pairs of snake eyes. The ink was black, save for the pupils of the eyes, which were a deep red.
"Creepy." Hermione whispered.
"Have you ever seen anything like it?" Hermione shook her head apologetically.
"I don't need to write it down. That thing is imprinted in my mind forever."
"I agree."
"Well at least we have something to go on."
"I have a feeling that isn't such a good thing." Draco's voice was grave. Hermione reached down, her fingers grazing across Tynan's smooth cheek. Tynan made an angry squeal, gripped her finger, and bit down. Hard. Blood oozed from tiny teeth marks on her pointer finger and she felt tears welling in her eyes.
"Fuck. Let's get that bandaged." Draco put his arm around her shoulder, a gesture that Hermione found surprisingly intimate, and led her out of the ballroom. He escorted her down a main hallway and into a sitting room.
The room was decorated in lush greens and golds and a large family portrait festooned a fairly bare wall above a roaring fireplace. The wallpaper was green and intricate designs of plated gold covered it. Three plush antique chairs, a green chaise lounge, and a bottle green love seat were situated around a mahogany coffee tables. The room was little by candles that hung from the walls of the room, three in each wall. Draco gestured for Hermione to sit down. She sank into the center of the loveseat, burying her heels in the emerald carpet. Draco peered into a closet nearby and began rummaging through it, throwing several items into a basket. He returned to her, the basket swinging from his wrist.
"Here," Draco handed her a wet cloth that had been dipped in rubbing alcohol. She took it, recoiling.
"I can't do this," Hermione whimpered. She could feel her body beginning to take it's familiar shape and the sensation was making her quite dizzy. Plus, she'd never been good at inflicting pain on anyone, including herself.
"Wimp," he took the cloth from her trembling fingers.
"Just do it, okay?" Draco nodded, happy to oblige with Hermione's request and pressed the cloth against her wound. She squealed, biting her bottom lip. Draco moved it slightly, mopping up the caked blood and attempting to clean the bite. "Are you all right?" Draco removed the cloth and dropped it into the basket.
"Fine."
"Well, you were screeching like you were going to die, Granger." Draco smirked and pulled out a gauze pad and a roll of athletic tape. He pressed the pad against her finger and Hermione could feel blood moistening it. He held it down and wrapped the tape around it several times, then ripped the end and stuck it down. "All better."
"Thanks." Draco just shrugged as he cleaned up his supplies and carried them back to the closet. "Malfoy?" He spun around.
"Yes?"
"Can we get the music and go back now? I mean, you saw the tattoo and you made an appearance…" Malfoy nodded. He was itching to get back to Hogwarts and look up Tynan's markings in the library. "Okay. It's seven o'clock and I need to get to the house elves to…fuck!"
"That's nasty, Granger."
"I forgot the food! I can't believe this!" Hermione slapped a hand to her forehead. How had she forgotten? She hadn't made a meal plan for the house elves. Even if she got one last minute, it would be too late for the elves to get any of the ingredients.
"Oh, good one, Granger." Malfoy felt a chuckle rising in his throat. All the fuss about the music and she'd forgotten the food?
"Everyone will be so angry. We have to go now. Maybe…if we go fast…" Hermione looked to Draco for some sort of answer, but he had moved from her, and was now standing at the window, peering his head through the curtains.
"Granger…I think you better come here," Draco said without turning around. Slowly, she padded over to him. He pushed the curtains further apart and she felt a cry rising in her throat. It was a torrential downpour outside. Thunder, lighting…the works.
"We can't fly in this…" she felt her heart sinking as tears filled her eyes. Hogwarts Halloween was ruined.
"We're going to need to stay here tonight, I'm afraid." Hermione nodded. A few tears spilled down her cheeks.
"Oh, stop your whimpering, girl. Come on. If we get you to a room now, my father won't even notice we stayed. He'll pour himself into bed around 4am, drunk as fuck." Hermione nodded, and followed Draco numbly.
She lost track of where she was going in the manor after going up two winding staircases and down several corridors. He led her up one last staircase, an extremely steep and narrow one, at which there was a door at the top. The door was painted a stark white, the paint peeling, and the spaces between the boards evident. Draco twisted the doorknob and guided Hermione into the room. The detaching wallpaper was white with pink and green flowers, and the wood floor was painted a cream color. Two twin beds sat against the walls, across the room from each other. In between the two was a small nightstand with a vase of daises. Next to one bed, a large dresser sat, base to a tiny, flickering candle.
"Extra servants quarters," Draco explained. "It's the only place I know Greta won't clean. She sleeps downstairs."
"Do you have anything I can sleep in?" Hermione was starting to feel confined in her dress.
"Um," Draco paused for a second, "Check the dresser. There might be some overflow clothes from my mum." Hermione crept over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Sure enough, clothes were folded neatly inside. She rummaged though the drawer for a second, before pulling out a long, pink nightgown. She spun around to glare at Draco.
"Turn around."
"I wouldn't want to look at your dirty flesh anyway, mudblood."
"What did I say about calling me that?" Draco didn't answer, only turned around and placed his hands over his eyes. Hermione slipped out of her dress, heels, and mask, and set them on the floor next to the bed. She pulled the satin nightgown over her head, the fabric feeling delicate against her bare skin. "Okay. All done." As Draco spun around, she realized he was wearing only a pair of boxers. "Put your clothes on, Malfoy!" She sputtered.
"I'm not sleeping in my clothes. And I'm sure as hell not wearing one of my mother's nightgowns."
"Then get under the covers--now!" Draco nodded and slipped under the white knit of his blanket, pulling it under his armpits. "Much better." Hermione climbed into her bed and under the covers. Hermione leaned up and blew out the candle.
"Hey, Granger?" The cool voice of Malfoy spoke after several minutes of silence.
"Yes?"
"Good night."
"Good night, Malfoy."
Feel the rain on your skin, no one else can feel it for you, only you can let it in, no one else can speak the words on your lips, drench yourself in words unspoken, live your life with arms wide open, today it where your book begins…the rest is still unwritten.
A/N: Thanks for reading. I've been writing this from my family reunion, on my laptop. We're staying in this old 19th century house. My room is the old servants quarters and it inspired me, hee hee. Review, please!