Note: Nope, we don't own it. Well, we haven't got as many reviews on this as we hoped, but that's no reason not to continue. I mean, the story is already completed.
Chapter three
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"Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within."
-James Baldwin
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Previously: Hermione took a deep breath, remembering what Fudge had asked her in their private meeting last Sunday. "Do you really think you're up for it, Granger? You have to get close to one of them; hell, maybe even all of them. Infiltrate the base, learn their secrets, become one of their allies, find out when they plan to attack."
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Hermione took another deep breath for courage before following after him, smiling softly. "Really, now? Getting away from it all, hmm? Sounds like you have some social issues to work out." Oooh, smooth, Granger, Hermione chided herself internally, insult the guy! That will defiantly earn you brownie points.
Blaise shrugged, "I think anyone who works for Voldemort has some social issues that need to be fixed. No offence to you and your brother… or to any of the other good men and woman who work here. They've all just been brainwashed."
Hermione walked with him in silence, pondering over his words. "So... you don't like being one of our Lord's servants?" she questioned, not quite understanding.
Blaise stopped, reaching for a door handle. Turning around, he smiled slightly. The darkness of the hall shrouded his eyes, obscuring his features. "Well, being the son of a prominent death-eater and the best friend to another… it was kind of mandatory to continue the family honor…" Blaise paused, remembering he was talking to another death-eater. "Of course, I love being servant of our Lord. Very riveting, those long night torture escapades," but try as he might, the sarcasms still seeped into his words.
Hermione forced a smile upon her features. "Of course... I've had quite a few friends who felt the same way you do," she said softly. "I would just beware whom you open your mouth in front of. People like my brother would pass on the information to some very strict ears... such as the Dark Lord Himself."
"Of course, I don't even know why I told you." He
pushed open his door and with a flick of his wand lit all of the candles in the
room. The small lights highlighted a bed in the corner, with a silken coverlet.
An oriental rug covered the stony floor and a few lacquered dressers lined the
walls. "Well, here it is, not as extravagant as
Draco's, but you know him. If you want, I could attend you to your room?"
Hermione took a mental breath, trying to keep herself from bolting. She forced a smile upon her lips, saying softly, "Well, I was hoping I might stay with you for a while. Get to know you and such," she said with a vague wave of her hand.
Blaise looked into his shadowed room, before motioning her in with an elegant wave of his hand.
Hermione entered the room, the mingled scents of the candles' wax and smoke filling the air. "It's nice," she commented, absently running her hand over the stone walls, her uncomfortable heels making 'clickity-click's' on the floor.
Blaise set down on the bed, watching her walk around his room. "Yeah, I guess so… It's home."
"Home..." she had to hold back a sigh, trying not to think about her home... the nice flat overlooking Diagon Alley, equipped with all of her artifacts from around the world. "I wish I could say that much for my quarters. It feels more like a prison..." She then turned, looking at him, her eyes scanning over his body. God, Fudge, never have I hated you more than for what you are making me do right now.
Blaise didn't blink as her measuring gaze swept over him. His dark eyes, shadowed even more by the scarce lighting, swept over her still form. He wondered briefly how far this was going to go… not that he minded.
Hermione tried to keep her mind free of thoughts as she stepped toward him. In her entire Auror career, she had had to do a seduction only once before. But now, it was worse. She was seducing a Death Eater. "You seem quiet suddenly..." She reached out, brushing a lock of hair, which had come undone from his ponytail, out of his eyes.
Blaise stepped into her touch, feeling it slide across his cheek. He reached up, wrapping his fingers around her wrist. "Me, Quiet? Never," he said softly, leaning forward trailing his lips across her cheek.
She closed her eyes, leaning into him. She let his lips trail down her cheek before she turned, catching his lips with hers. She pushed him backward, forcing him to sit on the edge of the end table at the foot of his bed. She used her knees and legs to wiggle her way between his legs, standing between them. She lifted his face up, placing soft butterfly kisses across his cheeks. "Good," she whispered, her breath fanning across his face, smelling faintly of red wine and the seedless grapes she had been eating earlier that day.
Blaise lifted her into his arms, trailing kisses down her neck. They fell onto the bed as Blaise unhooked the clasp holding her robes together.
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Hermione, once she was sure Blaise was asleep, wiggled her way out for under his arms. She darted across the room toward his dresser, opening it quickly. She glanced through old leaflets of parchment, notes of previous events on them. She even found some Divination notes from their fourth year at Hogwarts. Nothing, nothing and more nothing, she thought in despair. Why can't he have any information pertaining to the future?!
Hermione returned to the bed, picking up her discarded bra, panties, and robe. She donned them all quickly, running fingers through her unruly hair. "Blaise," she whispered, shaking him slightly. "I need to get back to my room." He mumbled something that sounded like 'fine' before falling back to sleep.
She snuck out of the room, carrying her high heels. The damned things made too much noise to actually walk in. "Now, on to Draco's room," she whispered to herself.
Upon arriving and opening the door to Draco's room, she was met with the glowing of candles. Draco was still passed out on the couch, probably in a deep, drunken stupor. She walked into the room, feeling at ease that he wouldn't be waking up any time soon.
She made her way first around the room, glancing at all of the discarded bras and panties. No doubt from his little whores, she thought with disgust. There were also many empty bottles of tequila and vodka. She sighed, going to a box in the corner. It was filled with large journals, all dated neatly on the front. No way, Draco keeps journals?
Hermione opened one dated from the past month to a few days prior. She flipped through it, finding nothing of use. Out of pure curiosity, she picked out the journal he had kept in Hogwarts for the beginning of their third year. She stopped, as if by fate, on the page marked February 10, 1994.
'Valentines Day is coming up. All of my friends are talking about their girlfriends… except for Crabbe and Goyle. They'd be lucky if they even got a man to be interested in them, let alone a girl.
There's only one person who I want for a Valentine… Hermione Granger.'
Hermione's eyes widened. "What?!" she exclaimed aloud, forgetting Draco was sleeping in that same room.
'I know that I've told you numerous times that I hate her guts, but something has changed. She stood up to me the other week… I don't know if I told you or not. She punched me in the face (How romantic…don't miss the sarcasm) right in front of Crabbe and Goyle. I admire the bravery; a Slytherin would never do that. We would attack you from behind, at your weakest moment-'
"What the…hell are you doing in… in my room?" Draco mumbled, sitting up from the couch. The room was spinning, making him sick to his stomach. He nearly fell off the couch, managing to stay on by gripping the back tightly.
Hermione spun around, eyes wide. "I," she began, dropping the journal. As it fell to the floor, a picture fell out. It was of her, Hermione, in her school uniform, smiling prettily. There was a heart drawn around it and a rip down the middle. The rip had been mended with tape, as if by a careful, tender touch. "Who is this?" Hermione asked, managing to keep her voice cool as she held up the picture for him to inspect. "Is this the 'Hermione Granger' you keep talking about in here?"
"You shouldn't…be reading those. They're private." he stumbled to his feet, snatching the picture from her grasp. He was starting to gain control. "You shouldn't be in here..." He picked up the dusty book from the floor, closing it and slipping the picture inside. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to come see how you were doing after your little drunken escapade," she said with a small smile, gazing up at him. She was thankful that he was so hungover that he probably couldn't remember any good jinxes to put on her for intruding.
Draco narrowed his eyes, pointing a shaky hand towards the door. "Get out," he said slowly. His head was pounding in his ears. "Don't come back in here. If you do, I'll kill you."
She stood slowly, taking her time. "Why, Draco, surely you wouldn't do something that mean," she whispered. She reached out a hand, trying to keep the tremors from being evident, and stroked his cheek. She was amazed at how baby-soft it was. "Would you?"
He slapped her hand away, "Don't touch me." He paused, "I usually don't kill women, but for you, I'd make an exception… because for some reason, I just hate you." Draco's eyes were still clouded from his drinking. "Now, get out."
"You need to get over it, Draco Malfoy, if you are still pissed about the shrinking spell I did on you." She turned away from him, marching toward the door. She paused before whispering, "Too bad you aren't as sweet as Blaise," with a smile. She opened the door and quickly got out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
As she left, Draco turned around placing the diary back in its rightful spot. His fingers skimmed over the cover, he could faintly remember the outlines of that year. That was the year he started liking one of his archenemies. And that, Rose, is why I hate you so much… because you remind me of her.
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She entered the room she shared with Ron, surprised to see him still awake. "I though you'd be sleeping by now," she said, smiling.
"I figured the big brother could wait up to see if anybody hurt his sister's feelings. Did they, because if they did, I'll march over there right now," Ron hurtled up from the bed, wand pointed at Hermione.
"Adrian," she said, using his fake name, voice shaking. She put her hands up, walking backward. "Put the wand away, Ron," she whispered softly. "I know you're angry, but please-"
"I can't believe you! Jeopardizing the mission, sleeping around, that's really just not like you. You don't see me sleeping around with every Death Eater to catch my interest."
"Ron," she whispered, stepping forward and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Fudge asked me to be close to as many of them as possible. That's why he chose me… because I was the supposed 'best seducer' out of the females." Her voice became harsher as she continued. "How do you think that made me feel, Ron? To know I am the best fuck out of the Aurors and that's the only reason I am this powerful in the field?!"
Ron's hand wavered. He lowered the wand to his side, jerking his head to the side. "I'm sorry," he choked out. "I wasn't thinking. I was mad, maybe a little jealous."
Hermione gave him a comforting hug. "It's okay… but try not to point that thing at me again, alright?"