Author's Note: All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well.

Chapter 9

Percy's Objective

The family of the house elf Hermione wished to safely escort out of London made numerous inquiries until the trip was impossible to manage. They would have to wait for the family to exhaust their current efforts before trying to get the little thing to safety. So she, Ron, and the twins waited, and Hermione tried to focus on her shop to keep her mind occupied rather than worry that the poor dear would be discovered.

Malfoy took to hovering more than was usual and by the end of the third week she was both frustrated and curious as to his attentive behavior. Whenever the shop was open he stayed out front watching each customer as though they might pilfer an item here or there. She didn't understand why he would care really. They were her things and it would probably amuse him if she did fail in this venture or her shop was the victim of theft.

Strangely, he was also tame and did not try to terrorize her or broach the subject of their marriage as he had during those first days. Neither was he an outgoing worker, but he wasn't as slovenly as she first thought he would be. He only did enough to pass the time and keep up appearances, as Percy had taken to dropping in unexpectedly at all times of the day, and would watch him persistently to see that he was making an attempt.

That was something different altogether, Percy's constant visits. They had increased in the last month and nearly every day he would stop in to apprise himself of Malfoy's progress. Then, when he was satisfied that Malfoy was making an effort he took to talking to her for great lengths of time.

Despite his severe stance on life in general Percy was obviously trying to be friendly and enjoyed discussing some of the same topics she did as well. He wasn't as laid-back as Ron, or as kindly as Harry, but it was a help to have company other than Malfoy to talk with. With Ron's new job taking more of his time than he would have liked and Ginny and Harry staying in Paris a month longer for some mysterious reason she had no one really to communicate with. Percy was proving not as dull as Ron had always made him out to be.

It was just as well that Harry and Ginny wouldn't be returning for a time yet. She hadn't owled them with the news of her decision to take Malfoy in and did not think it was appropriate to simply drop such a monumental piece of information into a simple note. They would disagree with her as much as Ron to be sure, and the longer she could hold off on any quarrels the better.

During Percy's visits Malfoy was quiet and subdued, speaking when spoken to, and uncharacteristically docile. He also never left their sight, as was his habit lately of watching her with scrutiny. This infuriated Percy and caused Hermione to wonder at his reasons. If he had been anyone else she would have thought he was acting protective, but as he was Malfoy, he probably sought to annoy and torment in whatever subtle way he could.

"You've done well for yourself Hermione," Percy commented one day looking about with approval in his eyes.

Straightening a large rack of robes that she had just acquired the day before Hermione smiled and glanced over her shoulder. "Thank you Percy."

"I must say you're also handling this situation with Malfoy extremely well. He actually seems to be capable of undertaking something industrious aside from sitting about concocting duplicitous schemes," he remarked, nodding to indicate Malfoy studiously assorting titles in a large box of books.

"Percy he's trying I do believe," Hermione defended, taking her attention from the robes for a moment to cast a glance at Malfoy. He was engaged in his task or so it seemed, but she knew he was absorbing their conversation, listening to make certain she did not appeal to Percy and have him sent back to prison.

"I haven't really inspected his living quarters," Percy said thoughtfully then. "I'm assuming he keeps them immaculate as I know you wouldn't abide anything less."

That was something else entirely, Hermione thought with a wry grin. "Of course, but I don't venture down very often. Everyone deserves their privacy I think."

"True, but he's committed acts against the Ministry, and so, many of his rights are denied him. As common practice I should have a look to make certain there's nothing out of the ordinary you know."

Malfoy did pause then, Hermione noticed, and threw a dangerous glare at Percy's back before he thought better of it. Grudgingly, she couldn't blame him. She was as protective of her own space in her flat as anyone else. Also, the cellar was as filthy as it had been the day Malfoy arrived. Percy would be sure to notice the dust and debris that had not been cleared away for such a long time.

"Would you mind if I stepped below?" Percy asked, but more for formality sake as he was already off toward the back of the shop.

"Actually, I was hoping you could check Malfoy's manacles for me," she rushed out finding that excuse the most inane she had ever heard herself. "He's been civil and polite, but I want to make certain he stays that way. No magic and all you know."

Percy halted, scowling in Malfoy's direction. "Has he given you reason to think he might be anything but courteous?"

"No, not at all, just wanted to make sure," she pressed.

Percy was suspicious of Malfoy, and Malfoy she knew was plotting ways in his mind to do her grievous harm for setting Percy upon him. Ignoring them both she breezed by, slipping behind the curtain. "Please, just check to make sure they are secure and I'll be in the cellar waiting for you so you can take a look about."

Hearing Percy grumble something behind her, Hermione quietly crept down the stairs and taking her wand from her robes whispered, "Scourgify."

Instantly dust and grime disappeared and there was a distinctly pleasant smell in the air. She hated cleaning in such a manner, it made her feel lazy, but there was no help for it presently. Malfoy had better continue to behave himself after she had saved him from Percy's wrath.

Moments later Percy appeared behind her. True to his nature he meticulously went over the entire area leaving nothing unturned, literally. Everything was out of sorts once he had peered throughout the lower part of the building. Nodding to himself he started back upstairs leaving Hermione vaguely angry at his careless regard for what little Malfoy possessed. The few items of clothing he had were torn from the tiny satchel he brought with him and the cot was overturned in the corner. She understood maintaining a prisoner's quarters was necessary, and was surprised Percy hadn't checked sooner, but did they really have to make such a grand production?

"Everything seems in order Mr. Malfoy. I know you intend to keep it that way." Percy didn't even bother to look at the man when he spoke just continued past the counter, missing the obviously incensed gaze projected in his direction.

Hermione appeared next not daring to look at Malfoy now, feeling the tension emanating from him even as she stood by the counter a decent distance away. "Thank you Percy. I trust Malfoy's still not considered a threat?"

"Locked up tightly as he should be," Percy assured her with a placating grin. "I suspected nothing less. Near impossible to rid yourself of those manacles. I wouldn't worry."

Little do you know Percy, she wanted to say sadly, but held her tongue. "Well, then I do feel safer."

Percy was about to start for the front door but stopped suddenly as though a thought occurred to him. "Mr. Malfoy make yourself useful in the back. There is something I need to discuss privately with Miss Granger."

Hermione waited then to see if Malfoy would obey Percy. She knew he listened to her only when he felt like it, and because at the time it might amuse him. Having a direct order from Percy might send him into a fit of rage. He'd been too civilized lately, there was bound to be something poised to set his temper flaring.

"Miss Granger, is there anything you need in back," Malfoy asked, but he was not pleasant.

"Um, yes bring out that box of potion books that I received yesterday," she said, for lack of anything else.

Silently he stalked back into the storeroom leaving Hermione alone with Percy as the Ministry Official had wished. "Now that I have your attention I was hoping to ask you a question of a rather delicate nature," Percy began, approaching her resolutely.

"Something to do with the elves?" Hermione asked, fearful that the Ministry might side with the family of the current elf she was intent on saving.

"No, nothing to do with work or otherwise. I was wondering if you were at all fond of Muggle opera?"

Raising a perplexed eyebrow Hermione did not understand why he'd care to know. "I suppose. I've never been personally, but I've heard that it can be entertaining."

"Generally Muggles tend to muck up the finer arts such as music, no offense as I do not consider you of that sort, but there is something intriguing about opera wouldn't you say? Perhaps you would like to join me Saturday for the evening. I believe La Bohème will be performed." Standing very seriously Percy did not appear nervous or ruffled. He had been very straightforward and looked to be sure of her response.

"Percy, I will have to make sure that I'm able, but…" Hermione stumbled haplessly over her words, stunned that Percy had actually gone so far as to request what she assumed he meant to be a date.

There was a loud crash from the back of the shop and Hermione whirled around staring with some concern. "Malfoy you didn't break anything did you?"

"No Miss Granger, but I'm afraid I can't find the box you've asked for. Would you please come back and see if you remember where you last saw it," Malfoy replied, sounding much too polite.

"Excuse me Percy," she smiled softly. "I won't be a minute."

Stepping behind the curtain she couldn't see Malfoy anywhere and the box she had been thinking of was to the right of the curtain. Frowning she walked farther back totally unprepared when a hand clamped over her mouth and she was hauled backward between two sets of shelves. As always she found her wrists tightly held behind her back and furious blue and silver eyes hovering above her.

"Tell the insipid little prat that you can't make it to the opera," Malfoy ground out his jaw set tersely.

When he lifted his hand from her mouth she was livid herself. "I'll do no such thing. Percy is a decent man and any woman would be honored to be escorted by him for the evening."

Something flashed to life in his eyes and he twisted her wrists a bit. "I don't like repeating myself. You'll decline the invitation and quit making it look like you'd accept another one."

"Oh really? Maybe I want to go to the opera. Maybe I'll find that Percy is good company and we have more in common that I thought," Hermione whispered back fiercely not really caring if she went, but deciding she'd as soon go as let Malfoy harass her into declining the offer.

"If he knew you were married he wouldn't be so quick to whisk you away for an evening," Malfoy taunted then, wondering if he had the fortitude to keep his hands off of the pompous prick who so high-handedly propositioned his wife.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Percy is aware that I'm a widow and I can't mourn the death of my husband forever. Maybe it's time I move on and…"

"You're far from being a widow and you know it!" Malfoy growled shaking her to punctuate his statement. "I swear if you don't stop with this constant denial I'll lose my patience. You don't want that believe me."

"Go ahead and do you worst," she dared, some of her bravery disappearing when his jaw starting jerking briskly.

"Do you really want that?" he challenged, raising an eyebrow and bringing a hand to rest at her throat. "You've never seen me at my worst and somehow I don't think you'd be prepared for it. I'd like to think we wouldn't have to resort to this pointless arguing. If you refuse to be reasonable then I see no need to treat you so delicately."

"Hermione is everything all right? Do you need some assistance?" Percy called from the front, his footsteps echoing through the storeroom when he pushed past the curtain.

Abruptly Malfoy released her, turning to busy himself, looking on at an adjacent shelf. "I do believe this is the box. Miss Granger, would you like me to carry it out front for you?"

"Yes," she stammered, composing herself before Percy came into view.

"I really must be going," Percy said when he came upon them. Everything seemed to be well, but he had wanted to be sure himself of the fact. "Can I safely assume that I will be seeing you at seven o'clock Saturday night? If you like we could also stop in a restaurant before hand."

Everything told Hermione to mind Malfoy's words and say no, but childishly she wanted to thwart her nemesis in anyway she could manage. He had no right to order her about and say who she could and could not see. So taking a deep breath and smiling sweetly she nodded. "That would be perfect. Seven it is."

"Excellent, I will see you then. Malfoy, I must say you're surprising me to no end." That said he let himself out leaving the two alone in the storeroom.

Malfoy dropped the box he had only pretended to be interested in, but did not make any move to grab Hermione again. "You're too stubborn for your own good and you're trying to make a point. This is one particular time you shouldn't have tested me."

Ignoring him Hermione made her way from the storeroom pausing when she heard him speak again. She did not care really what he was going to say, knowing it was a threat or mocking remark. Still, she listened intelligent enough to stay abreast of whatever retaliation he would be planning.

"The choice you made at the Ministry that night when Neville brought you to my cell is still hard for you to accept. I understand somewhat, but there's nothing to do now but live with the consequences. I wouldn't become too fond of Weasley. You don't have a future there."

Not replying, Hermione stormed away, burying herself in numerous papers on spells and such for the remainder of the day. For the past few weeks they had seemingly been pleasant to one another, and as the afternoon progressed, unless a customer happened by they did not speak. Only a few more weeks and Neville would have the divorce papers and she could be free of the debacle she had created for herself. Just a bit longer if she could stand it, and she could put the last year behind her.

Nothing was ever easy however, and Hermione was forced to admit to herself that though she could hold herself aloof and superior in the light of day, at night she could not escape. Without fail she dreamed of Malfoy, even if she tried to charm herself into a sleep so deep dreams could not penetrate. Each night the illusions became more vivid, and arousing, making her wonder if he would but be as gentle in reality as he was during her musings if she could someday come to think of him differently. Yet, the moment she spoke his name, before he could end the torment he set to churning within her, he would pull away, leaving her disappointed and wanting.

That was insane as Malfoy was nothing but a cruel and vile bastard determined to ruin her in anyway he saw fit. Dreams were nothing more than a person's desire brought to life for but a brief period in time. That deduction upset Hermione more, as it would mean she desired him in that way, wanted to know what he could be like if he ever expressed tenderness or warmth.

The night after Percy's visit however she did not dream and blissfully Hermione wondered if she might be ridding herself of her nightly ritual. It was for the best if she never dreamed of him again really. It helped her separate herself from the truth and fantasy, and kept her realizing that he was as wicked as ever and not likely to change.

Pacing behind the shop in the alley Malfoy wasn't truly in the mood to deal with anything other than disposing of Percy. The man had effectively worn on his last nerve, and he was finished listening to him simper and preen around his wife. If he thought he could get away with it at the present time he'd simply kill him and that would be the end of it all really.

Sighing, he realized that was rather drastic and a measure his father probably would have resorted to. Still, even if he couldn't actually engage in the bloody activity he could imagine the sodding Weasel dead and gone, begging for his life. There was no harm in wanting to see the deed done as long as he didn't actually go through with it.

"Mr. Malfoy," low, hoarse, voice whispered from the shadows, drawing him from his pleasant thoughts of watching Percy suffer and fall before him.

"Professor?" he asked, still not quite believing the man was actually there and had sent the owl asking for the meeting.

"You seem to be doing well. I'm surprised to see you've taken to this lifestyle so easily and without complaint."

"Not without complaint," Malfoy amended, coming closer but the professor stepped back pulling the hood of his cape about him more securely.

"Stay where you are," Snape snapped harshly. "I must make this short. It came to my attention that many of the things from Malfoy Manor were sold at auction sometime after your father's death. I've traced most of the belongings to various shops across Europe and such, but there was one thing in particular that I have been unable to find and must have."

"If it came from the manor then I fail to see the reason it should not rightfully belong to me," Malfoy said, his possessiveness coming to the forefront.

Malfoy had heard of the auction Snape spoke of. People picking through their things as if they had every right to touch and taint the valuables that had been part of the Malfoy and Black families for centuries. The worst of all was knowing that his mother had gone into hiding as well. After the contents of the manor had been auctioned she was unable to stay in the husk that was once a glorious mansion. Oddly, he wondered if she was doing well and if she had found a way to comfortably survive the new world that had been brought about after Voldemort's fall. They had never been particularly close but there were memories from his early childhood that were pleasant and she was a part of them.

"As it was your mother's diary I should say the book does indeed belong to her," Snape droned with a dry tone.

"How did my mother's diary come to be auctioned? Who would buy a diary?"

"It was mistakenly thrown into a box of books from the library. I was assured that one Miss Granger had come across some books that were believed to be among the ones with your mother's diary. The binding is green and black and there is no title on the cover. The pages will be very worn, as she kept the journal from the time she was in her seventh year at Hogwarts on," Snape explained impatiently. He knew was taking too long to express his wishes and he could be noticed at any moment.

"I'll try and look for it, but I don't see why I should give it to you." He wasn't being rude or severe, but Malfoy simply did not even know where his mother was so how would Snape find her?

"Because I can deliver the diary myself. Now go inside before the Mudblood witch discovers you're sneaking about." With a wave of his hand he motioned for Malfoy to go toward the back door.

"How will I be able to contact you if I find it, which is to say I trust you to make certain it does go to my mother," Malfoy asked, hoping the professor might inadvertently slip and mention some clue as to his mother's whereabouts. It should not matter where she was, obviously she must be safe or Snape wouldn't be so free to come and look for something as mundane as a diary. Yet it mattered very much in that moment.

"I will be in contact with you again. Do not come to me ever. Now go!"

Malfoy watched the gangly man turn to disappear and stopped him. "Professor."

Noticeably annoyed Snape sighed heavily but twisted around slightly. "Yes Mr. Malfoy

"Is my mother well?" His voice was shaky as though it were not used to such soft words of concern.

"Yes."

It was all the answer he would get but he could not let a certain remark go unanswered. "Professor."

"Gods, what is it now," Snape growled whirling to face Malfoy for the last time.

"When you are speaking of Miss Granger I would appreciate you not using the term Mudblood. Do you understand?"

Snape raised a sleek black brow of amazement. The boy had dared to chastise him and was doing so by defending the honor of a pretentious Muggle-born witch. If he had not heard the distinct air of authority and underlying threat he would not have believed it to be Draco Malfoy at all. Impressed mildly by his audacity he nodded, not really caring if they spoke of the troublesome baggage that was Miss Granger or not. "Very well."

The professor Disapparated before his eyes and Malfoy stared out into the autumn night for a while. Glancing down the alley he knew he could easily make his escape, as Hermione had not placed a charm on him preventing him from leaving the premises of her shop. She still had it in her mind that she was going to send him to the Weasley's shop some afternoons, but luckily she had not done so yet.

One Weasley was more than enough day in and day out. Percy was a hindrance that would not be cast aside and surely Hermione was not so innocent as to believe the drivel he spouted about politics and human rights. It was all a ploy to gather her interest and Malfoy knew it. The true Percy starved prisoners when it suited him, sped up executions, allowed pardons for others as long as they could give him a nice long list of names as to who had practiced the Dark Arts and did still. Percy was not mindful of anything just or proper, far from it.

Longingly staring at the open street Malfoy finally went back into the shop stalking downstairs, and pausing to lock the door as Hermione did nightly so she would not suspect him of walking freely about. Almost immediately he stopped in the middle of the staircase. There was no musty smell or grime on the railing as he made his way down. Everything he owned, paltry amount it was to be sure, was strewn all about, but the cellar itself was clean and tidy. Hermione.

She never used a Scourgify spell unless she was rushed or running behind. Yet, knowing Percy would inspect his room below she had made sure to have it as clean as the bastard would have expected. Most likely she had been afraid if Percy had tried to take him back he would have produced the marriage certificate and made certain to inform him of their marriage. She had not done it to be kind, or had she?

He might have imagined it but she had not seemed eager to let Percy rummage though his belongings. The sodding prick had made quite a mess of his own looking for things that weren't even there. What did Percy think? That he was going to hide knives and other weapons away so he could murder Hermione in her sleep?

For this reason precisely, as anyone might think to rifle through his things at any given time, he kept the certificate with him always. Folded neatly into a tight square it rested in a pocket just on the inside of his shirt. Hermione could not find it or if she was looking would never think to come across it there or have the courage to be so bold and search him personally.

That was also frustrating, this constant avoidance of the topic of their marriage. Just because he wasn't pouncing on her during the day did not mean she was in any way free to forget who she was and whom she belonged to. Hermione was defying him out of spite more than anything, but there was a small tinge of worry buried deep in Malfoy's mind that questioned whether or not she might find Percy's false appearances attractive. The bastard was plying her with compliments left and right and acting gallant in checking on her daily.

It almost made Malfoy wish that the younger Weasel hadn't taken that job with the Ministry or that Potter and his little girlfriend would return from wherever the hell they'd spirited off to. They were tolerable at least. Nice and comfortable too, for it seemed that Hermione and Ron were nothing more than friends and Potter had the youngest Weasley to himself. Yes, the sooner Percy was taken out of the picture the better.

Gathering his belongings and sorting them out once again he finally laid back on the cot for the night. Snorting to himself in the darkness he was cursing his weakness where Hermione was concerned. He had frightened her on those first days, overwhelming her he realized and so he had relented knowing she was innocent in so many ways still and not eager like most women. As far as he knew Krum, Weasley, and now the insufferable Percy were her only admirers. That was a pitiful bunch and none of them could properly teach her or engage her in anything concerning pleasurable love play.

So he had restrained himself and forgotten his vow to seduce her until she was ready. Until the Weasel's proposition earlier Malfoy was sure he was making steps forward. She was not as nervous around him any longer and though their discussions were of nothing in particular they were not heated arguments or rounds of insults most generally. Gods, but why did the bastard have to ruin all of his beautiful progress.

A night out was all it was, he told himself realizing in his current position he could say nothing and was forced to let Hermione have her way for now. If he thought there was a way of exposing their marriage he would do so readily, but until he had found a means to clear Hermione of anything treasonous he wouldn't risk it. Though he was almost proud of her for her devious means of getting him released in a roundabout way her actions could be considered disloyal. Longbottom could hang or rot somewhere for all Malfoy cared, as the narrow-minded git was wrong. Percy wouldn't hesitate to take Hermione into custody if for no reason other than to assuage his own pride when it was revealed that he never once stood any chance in pursuing her romantically.

Malfoy laid thinking for a while longer but decided against seeking his usual routine. He didn't trust himself tonight after all that had occurred today. Instead he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep for sometime and rose to sneak back up to search through the books for his mother's diary. Unlocking the cellar door, smiling to himself at Hermione's ignorance in thinking she could contain him in any way, he went into the storeroom and began to rummage through boxes of books hoping he would find the diary soon. When he did Snape would return and he could learn more about his mother's well being and even the professor's as well.