A/N: My muse has been a bit difficult recently, and I've started an internship, so updates might become rather slow in a couple of chapters. But don't worry, I WILL continue this through the end! Thanks as always to all my lovely reviewers… you all really make my day.
ON TO
Chapter Nine:
Lying on the loveseat, annoyed that Malfoy had not offered much protest at her proposed arrangements, Hermione tossed and turned, horribly tired now but too uncomfortable and afraid of what slumber would bring to drift off to sleep. She would kick off the blanket, smouldering one minute, only to pull it back, shivering, the next.
Her head already hurt in anticipation of the following morning (more like afternoon at this rate). She contemplated getting up for another cup of tea, but her fatigued body refused to entertain the notion. Her thoughts became muzzy and confused as weariness won over discomfort. Whether she actually slept then or not she was never certain, but the next thing she knew, a noise both familiar and highly unexpected – and terrifying, in this context – jolted her back to wakefulness.
Crack
Someone had just Apparated. For a moment she wanted to groan, imagining that Lucius had either somehow discovered a way to Apparate without a wand or snatched a wand. Before a sound passed her lips, she realised that the more likely explanation was that someone had just entered her flat, not left it.
A rustle of cloth in the direction of her bedroom – she did not think the noise came from inside her bedroom but could not be sure, as she had decided to leave the separating door open – confirmed her second guess. She did not dare move, but if she wanted to save herself (okay, and Malfoy) from an assassin's wand, she would have to get moving. As slowly and silently as she could, Hermione raised herself up to her elbows to peer over the edge of the arm of the loveseat.
That simple movement seemed to stretch out over an eternity as she waited with tensed muscles for the intruder to hear her and fire a curse at her, against which she had absolutely no defence. Finally, she saw a robed figure advancing stealthily through the door toward her bed, wand at the ready.
She had no time to think of a clever plan or even to steel herself against the danger which lay before her. Instead, she hoped there was still water in her kettle and launched herself toward her desk. She switched the dial to the On setting and ran to duck behind the sink. The intruder spun at the sound of footsteps and strode in her direction. So Lucius was safe – alive, at least – for the moment because she had saved him once again. Now it was his turn. If she were very lucky, the intruder might have not approached her bed close enough to see that it was occupied.
"You can't hide in this miserable hole for long, Mudblood!" proclaimed the man, loud enough for her to hear it but maybe too quiet, she feared, to wake Malfoy. She would just have to get his attention, preferably without letting her attacker know what she was doing. Above her, resting on the small countertop, sat a plate she had not yet got around to washing. Taking a deep breath, she stood, grabbed the dish, and flung it like a Frisbee at the man, now far too close for comfort.
He barely needed to lean to one side to avoid the missile and laughed again when it crashed into a wall and shattered. "That one ought to be good for a laugh when I report back to the Council." By this time, he had reached the sink and could aim his wand at Hermione no matter where she scurried. "And here we all were so ruddy impressed with you." He pointed his wand at her, perhaps to cast a killing curse and finally rid the Dark Lord of this most recent thorn, or maybe he would amuse himself to a bit longer, try to get a bit of useful information out of her before carrying out his master's orders.
Whatever he hand planned was interrupted by a noise behind him. Hermione almost laughed herself at the expression on his face just before he turned to face this new threat. He had no time to utter a single syllable before Lucius swung something at him. The man threw an arm up to protect his head and then shrieked at the fleshy thud and dull crack of impact.
Hermione's stomach turned, but she repressed the nausea and hurried back to her desk, where steam was rising from the kettle. The stranger fell forward on Lucius, who dropped his weapon and cursed. Somehow, the intruder had retained his grasp on his wand, and this time, when he raised it, Hermione was certain he would not bother with torture. She jerked the plug from the socket and took a couple of steps toward the two struggling men.
"Get back," she yelled, hoping Lucius would heed her words. Just as she had predicted, their would-be dispatcher turned by instinct in her direction as Malfoy scrambled away. She wrenched the lid off the kettle and heaved the boiling water at the intruder. As the other man howled, Malfoy tossed Hermione's discarded blanket over the man's head and clamped one arm around his torso, the other over his mouth.
From outside her door, Hermione heard exclamations and running footsteps. "Shit!" she hissed. "We have to get out of here before someone sees all this."
Lucius found the man's wand on the floor and hastened to drag Hermione alongside himself in a bruising grip, reciting the spell for a Side-Along Apparition just as the footsteps reached her door. The last thought she had before the spell seized them was relief that this would-be killer had not thought to ward his wand with the same kind of protective spell Bellatrix had used on hers.
When the dizziness subsided, she blinked and squinted at a sudden flood of light pouring from a low-hanging chandelier. Her vision cleared to present a wood-panelled room, pale enough to reflect most of the candle light so that the walls seemed to glow. Wooden furniture polished to a mirror sheen – chairs with cream-colored velvet seats and a side-table supporting a silver tray – sat pushed against the walls as if the owners expected guests. All in all, it looked quite luxurious, if rather modestly-sized.
Lucius let go of her arm and spoke before she could ask him a single question about where he had taken them and why. "We've just come calling on an old and rather… shabby Pureblood, ah, couple. You need not say a word when they come to greet us. I'll explain later, but I imagine most of what your wish to know will soon become obvious."
How reassuring. She pursed her lips and returned to her study of the room. Shabby? It looked nice enough to her… but upon closer inspection, the velvet padding was unevenly faded and looked flat. The silver had begun to tarnish a good long time ago, and the pale walls darkened in spots, whether with stains or natural wear she could not say.
She had not progressed much beyond the walls when footsteps pounded above, then descended until they could be heard just beside this… salon, perhaps. One of two doors flew open to usher in two elderly men, one in a threadbare silk dressing gown and the other in a thick white robe.
"Monsieur Malfoy!" one of the men cried happily. "How wonderful to see you again and so unexpectedly!" He bowed to Hermione. "And your friend is most welcome, of course." The other man looked significantly less thrilled to see them and hovered silently near his companion.
"Marius is… not feeling well, I hope you will excuse him. We've been hearing all sorts of rumours, you know, about some very dark deeds, and your name has come up more than once. Oh don't worry, I never said a thing one way or another, but…"
Hermione sneaked a bemused glance at Lucius, only to see him nodding and occasionally offering a smile or chuckle in response to the rapid-fire French babble. A couple, he had said? Hermione realised that she had never heard any mention of such arrangements in the Wizarding World, though they were common enough in Muggle Britain, even legally recognised these days. She discovered her mind wandering and firmly pointed it back to the scene in front of her. Sleepy as she was, she doubted she would be able to concentrate on anything much longer. There were things she ought to worry about but could not find the energy to dwell on.
"… long as you wish. Marius has been begging me to take us on a little holiday… and I've heard lovely things about Wizarding Marrakech. Doesn't that sound exotic? I understand they have some very interesting teas down there… you know I'm an Earl Grey man, but I should like to try something new before I die, what do you say?"
Malfoy was not actually expected to say anything, Hermione found.
"We'll leave first thing in the morning, and you two will have full run of the house. I insist – it's the least I can do for you, after all the kindness you've shown Marius and
myself. My, but you're quiet! I suppose you're both exhausted… you seem to have endured something dreadful just now, but I know better than to ask questions."
A grin broke out over his wrinkled face during his very brief pause to draw breath. "I take that back; I do have one question, simply unavoidable. Will it be one room or two? Not that I mean to imply anything, Monsieur Malfoy, of course not."
Lucius did not hesitate or bother to spare a glance for Hermione before answering his friend's inquiry. "Two, preferably near one another. After our ordeal tonight, I'm sure we will both sleep better knowing help is nearby."
He was right, but that did not mean he had to make it sound like she was afraid of the dark! She tried not to blush at what she prayed their host was not thinking and hoped she would see this room very soon, near another or not. Even the chairs were looking comfortable enough to sleep in at this point.
To his credit, he gave no sign of harbouring any such ideas. "Naturally, yes, perfectly understandable. You two wait here… there's brandy in the cabinet under the tray, if you like. I'm afraid we had no time to prepare anything more for your arrival. It's delightful to see you again, my good sir, an absolute joy."
When he left, Hermione was content to fall into the closest chair and enjoy the silence for a minute. Her questions, she decided, could wait until morning. All she wanted right now was a little peace and a long sleep.
Their host returned a few minutes later and announced with many a verbal flourish that their bedrooms were ready. She still had not caught his name, but then again, neither of these men knew hers. Marius remained as silent as she was and looked just as fatigued and considerably more annoyed. She wondered why this verbose man, who seemed so genuinely nice – warm, friendly, hospitable – had anything to do with a Malfoy, none of whom were known for possessing any of these qualities.
He left Lucius and Hermione at their rooms, bidding them a final farewell, goodnight, and assurance that his house and everything therein (including a house elf) were theirs as long as they needed.
She tried not to gaze too longingly at her bedroom door or let her eyelids droop too heavily as Lucius and his friend exchanged a few polite parting words. To distract her brain from realising just how exhausted she was, she directed her attention once more to Marius, still at his companion's side, engaged for the most part in glaring at Lucius, sparing a sharp glance from time to time for Hermione or an impatient one for his partner. She did not even know if 'partner' was the right word.
Among other things, she made a mental note to ask Lucius what their host's name was and why he was so fond of the elder Malfoy – and hoped that the exact nature of the relationship of these two men would come up in that conversation. Since she had never heard anyone talk about any similar sort of relationship, she guessed it was not generally held to be a polite topic of discussion.
Finally, the two men departed, and Hermione felt free to yawn and rub her eyes. Good thing she was already dressed for bed and could not imagine how she had looked to Malfoy's friend… which raised about a dozen more questions which simply would have wait until morning.
She pointed a finger at Lucius. "This is only a temporary reprieve. When I wake up again, you'd better be ready to talk like him." She nodded in the direction in which their host had left. "I don't even know where to start. But for now… sleep. Good night." With that, she started heading toward the bedroom offered to her but stopped at the sound of his voice.
"Wait." He took a few steps and stopped a very short distance from her. Barely suppressing a tired sigh, she turned to face him. Even in her current fuzzy state of mind, she was struck by the colour of his eyes and the powerful lines of his face. An irreverent part of wanted to reach up and brush an errant strand of white-blond hair behind his ear… must be the sleep deprivation, she told herself. There will be no (further) touching of Lucius. It was hard to keep her eyes from those lips she had so recently kissed. Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!
He let a quiet moment pass before speaking again. "You were most impressive tonight. I believe I now owe you my life several times over."
A Malfoy owed her big time. She liked the sound of that, even if she was too modest to say exactly that.
"Oh, well, that's how these things go. I save your life, you save mine, I save yours again, you save me from a major police investigation."
He sounded quite serious when he replied. "I do not take any obligation so lightly. Indeed, you are complicating matters more than you know." He smiled a little, breaking the solemn mood. "But I can see that you're very near to collapsing here as we speak. Sleep well, Miss Granger. We will have ample time to discuss anything you wish." He inclined his head in a little bow – she could never tell if he was serious or not when he did that – and then disappeared into his own room.
She stared after him for a little while before sighing and entering her bedroom. She did not bother even to turn on a light before falling into bed and another nightmare.
