A/N. In my spare time I've been writing a Borgias fanfiction, just for myself. But if you guys wanted, the story is pretty self-explanatory even if you haven't watched The Borgias. And if you have, even better! (Borgias fan high-five!) It's modern day about a collection of mafia families and a boss with big ambitions who is not unwilling to drag his family down with him with his hunger for power.

So if you would be interested in reading that, let me know. I never really planned on posting it, but, hey, if any of you would like a little something to read on the side and be updated in between this story, just say something in your reviews. If not, feel free to say so as well! *smiles*

By the way this chapter is, as Draco calls it, a "convoluted Gryffindor mess".

…~oOo~…

Chapter Six: In Which There Is A Conspiracy

The contents of the trunk had not been what Chelsea expected. It was a lot of journals written in a different language with diagrams and pictures of things that Chelsea didn't recognize. The journals and foreign books were the bulk of it, but among them were a few objects that Chelsea could only call "creepy". Like the jar with what looked like the skeleton of a baby dragon floating inside it. She's pretty sure she found its eggshell in another box. Then there was the huge orange, red, and yellow feather. And, finally, a pocket watch.

Chelsea took the pocket watch in her hands and blew off the coating of dust. It was very ornate, swirling patterns on the one side and that strange symbol on the front. It was the same pocket watch she saw the imaginary man in the cellar look at all those nights ago. Looking closely at it, she traced the triangle with her finger, the circle in the center of it, and the line bisecting both the triangle and circle. When she clicked the little brass button and it popped open, she found the face to be cracked and the hands to be utterly stagnant. The time was frozen at exactly 6 o'clock.

And the inside was engraved with the words: G, Transit umbra, lux permanent. –A

The initials were too familiar. She remembered the music box from the year before when Adam first introduced her to the cellar. When they first started poking around they found that little box and the key and inside the ballerina who danced, but was reflected in her mirror as a bear. And the letters inside, how the poured out with love according to Adam. She remembered the day that Adam ran to her and told her about how he'd gotten a nice long look at the letters when Malfoy was away from the desk. About how they were, in his words, "lovey-dovey-gooey".

So the watch was a gift from a lover. She wondered why this G would abandon such a gift in a trunk in a cellar.

On a whim, she tucked the pocket watch into her pocket. She would have to stop exploring before she had a collection. The ribbon in her hair, the pocket watch, what was next? One of the portraits?

Chelsea locked up the trunk and returned upstairs to be with the living.

Anyway, the staff meeting was in an hour and she wanted to find somewhere to hide but also watch on.

She was about to go into one of her favorite cupboards to listen into the staff room when Adam came zipping towards her like a comet, breathing heavily.

"Things are going to get more interesting than we thought," Adam said, pushing her into the cupboard and slamming it behind them. He was talking fast and Chelsea was paying close attention to catch it all. "You know about how we just assumed that if Miss Hermione ate the pie she'd Floo out to find Mr. Malfoy because it's so obvious they like each other and they'd maybe stop fighting? Yes, well, guess who just walked through the front door? Mr. Malfoy! I asked him what he was doing here and he said he was here for a meeting which can only mean the staff meeting which means we may get quicker results!"

Chelsea swallowed. "Adam…"

"Yeah, Chelsea?" he said, pressing his ear into the wall eagerly to listen for the start of the meeting.

"I've been thinking…this was a bad idea."

"Why?" Adam asked, surprised. "Mr. Malfoy really fancies Miss Hermione and if she just let him know she felt the same way, they'd be so much happier. They're both just stubborn. Watch, everything will go great!"

Chelsea wished she shared Adam's enthusiasm, but she just felt nauseas instead.

…

"Hello, Malfoy," Harry said as the Death Eater walked into the staff room.

Instead of answering, Draco just gave him a look and moved to a spare seat at the table. The staff room was an old room with a round table in the middle of it that they threw a tablecloth over with a pie and a teapot in an attempt to seem civilized. The floor floors were all dented and the ceiling was the color of piss. It really was a dreadful room.

He unbuttoned the one done button on his jacket and sat down directly across from Hermione so she would have to look at him during the meeting.

Neville and Luna sat side by side, holding hands on top of the table. Krum who still taught Defense to the kids most days sat next to Hermione, which irked Draco deeply. They were even bloody chatting. Draco had hoped the language barrier still caused some issues – for Christ sake, he couldn't even pronounce her name correctly – but apparently they were all buddy-buddy. Draco considered for a moment if he was above borrowing a Weasley product to get rid of Krum's tongue for a little while. It would make talking and other activities a little difficult.

Not that Krum was engaging in said "other activities" with Hermione. Or at least he better not be.

Well, that wouldn't be a problem. Because back at his office in the Ministry Draco was in the middle of folding one hundred paper birds, just like the ones he used to send to harass Potter, only prettier and less aggressive. Apparently women liked it when you made them stuff. And truly, folding doves showed quite a bit of effort on his part and seemed to be the perfect apology.

"Let's get this show on the road," Hermione said once everyone was seated and the chatting began to subside. "So, we're just going to put aside the staff meeting format for now and figure out what we're going to do about Skeeter. Oh, and feel free to have a slice of pie, everyone."

Most of them said, "ooh" or "mmm" as they began passing around what looked to be a blueberry pie. He silently passed it onto Potter without taking a slice, not trusting anyone's baking at that manor to be good. If Luna had made it, it probably only looked like blueberry and was actually nightshade. He just wasn't going to risk it.

"Rita has been haranguing me in letters about her promised interview with Harry Potter," Hermione said, cutting into the pie and taking a slim slice and handing it to Krum. "I reminded her that our Vow said nothing in detail about when she'd get the interview, but you can only imagine her reaction to that."

"I'll just do the interview, I don't see why it's such a problem," Harry said. "I mean, the woman's a harpy, but it will certainly make an impression if an article about my resurrection were to come up now."

"It has to be the perfect moment, though," Neville said. "We have one shot at this."

"It's true," Luna said in her sing-song voice. "It's the one ace we have, as the Muggles say. We've got to play it at the perfect moment, otherwise… It's wasted and we don't have anything else, really."

"Apart from the prison break," Draco added, pouring himself a cup of tea. "Azkaban has its monthly roll call coming up and once they realize Kingsley is gone… I think the days following those headlines would be the perfect time for this release. It would cause madness. First a prominent figure from the rebellion and their bloody savior return at once."

"Morale vould be restored," Krum said, nodding his head in reluctant agreement with Draco.

I don't need your support, you stammering Bulgarian jockstrap. Draco gratefully had the sense to keep his mouth shut, but God, of all people to back him up on a strategy, did it have to be Hollow Skull Krum?

"Or should the article on Harry be released before they find out Kingsley's missing?" Neville asked. "Just spit-balling."

"This is really good pie!" Hermione said abruptly, her voice very loud in the calm room.

Everyone looked at her, sort of surprised by her outburst.

"Yes, it is," Luna agreed.

"She outdid herself, really!" Hermione said, giggling uncontrollably.

Draco blinked. "Who outdid herself?"

"Yvette! She's been baking up a storm because Molly has been teaching her and…" Then she looked up from the pie at Draco and started blinking, her eyes getting wider. "Wow…your eyes are incredible, Malfoy. Or Draco. Can I call you Draco?" She leaned way forward, propped up on her hands on the table. "We've known each other for so long now."

"Er, yes?" Draco said, more than slightly perturbed. What was she smoking? And when he looked over to find Neville and Luna snogging too passionately for being around other people. Never did he have to know how high-pitched Luna's moans were. And now they'd never leave his brain.

Pushing back a gag in the back of his throat, he looked over to find that Krum abruptly left the room and Harry was dazedly twirling one of Hermione's curls without her even noticing.

And it all put itself together in his head. He steamed for a moment and regretted ever going to Adam. This had to be all his doing – it had "convoluted Gryffindor scheme" written all over it.

Since Draco was the only one with any sense, he had to play babysitter. First thing he did, and he felt it was totally justified considering they were all drugged, walked around the circular table to slap Harry's hand away from Hermione's hair.

"You, Potter, are going to go leave this room and find those miscreants who – NO, I said stop that!" Draco said, slapping his hand again when he ignored Draco.

"I feel really strange," Hermione said, seeming as loopy as Luna, and leaned her whole face into Draco's stomach, gripping the lapels of his jacket. His eyebrows shot up as the sudden contact. She was pulling on his clothes and taking deep breaths. "Draco, you smell so lovely, I could just inhale you forever." She looked up at him with her big brown eyes glazed over, but it was the first time in a year she didn't look at him with anything except contempt. And she looked so soft and affectionate like a kitten, he didn't have it in him to just wrench her away from him.

If this was a love potion, there really was only one way to handle someone under its influence. Objecting would do nothing. One had to play the indulgent counterpart to get anything done.

"Hermione… darling…" he said, feeling exceedingly strange.

"Hmm?" she said, her eyes brightening at the endearment.

"I'm going to need your help, alright? Just, if you'll stand up, we're going to get you to your bedroom."

"Brilliant," she said with lewd undertones, hopping up out of her seat and throwing herself into his arms.

"Not for…" Draco cleared his throat. "Actually, yes. Yes. You go upstairs to your bedroom, love, and I'll be there just when I take care of the students, alright?" Hopefully by the time he was done beating the hell out of Adam the potion would wear off.

"Nigel is in charge, you don't have anything to worry about," she said, taking him by his collar and dragging him towards the door. "Harry can watch them too."

"Huh?" Harry said from his seat. He looked like he'd been hit by a Confundus.

"Find Nigel, tell him something's gone wrong, and just make sure the kids don't blow anything up," Draco said sharply, hoping Potter would snap out of it.

"But…but… Hermione," Harry said, rubbing his eyes and looking more confused than ever.

Draco wanted to growl and just smack Harry. It was obvious he was having some confusion where his feelings for his friend was concerned, but if there was anything to learn from this entire Pie of Deception situation was that Hermione wasn't interested.

And part of Draco glowed. Part of him really did want to just say "bugger it all" and take Hermione to bed, but that would be the same thing as getting into bed with her when she was drunk. Sure, she wanted it, but her decision making skills were compromised and drunken women weren't always proud of themselves the morning after. Ergo, the so-called "walk of shame".

It was everything Draco ever wanted on a plate – Hermione's attention, her affection, her lust – and he was going to turn it down. There must be some kind of rule against this in the Bloke Code, but Draco would be damned if he weren't bloody noble.

"Just do as I say, will you?" Draco demanded. He looked over at Neville and Luna where things were getting very…heated. Uncomfortably so. "And let's get the hell out of this room and lock it." While Hermione was still hanging heavily on his body and clothes, Draco grabbed Harry by the back of his shirt and pulled them out of the room, slamming the door shut, and locked it. Three times.

There were some things that one could no unsee. And Draco was fairly sure he'd be having nightmares of being cock-blocked by morals and of the whacky plant-Nargles duo shagging all because of a stupid pie.

Once out of the room, Harry Potter seemed to start coming out of his haze. Maybe he hadn't eaten as much of the pie or maybe his natural state of stupidity affected the laced pie. "Nigel, you said," Harry said, shaking his head. "I'll…find him. Make sure everything is alright. Malfoy, what's happening exactly?"

"Stupid teenagers, that's what's happening," Draco said vaguely, trying his hardest not to hum with pleasure as Hermione pressed her face into his neck and began murmuring very, very naughty things to him.

Not quite understanding, Harry shook it off and began walking away.

"Good, he's gone," Hermione said lowly, fiddling with the top button of his shirt. "Let's head up to my room, now."

Swallowing hard, Draco shivered as Hermione's teeth grazed his earlobe. But it also made him horribly depressed, at the same time. She wouldn't be doing or saying any of this if she hadn't been drugged with whatever potion a thirteen-year-old could get their hands on. None of it was real, not really. It was temporary and would fade away and she would go back to hating him. At least outwardly hating him.

"I want to," Draco said quietly, running his thumb over her cheek. She leaned into his hand, closing her eyes. "I really do. More than you'll ever know. But…I can't, I'm afraid."

"Why not?" she asked, a little wrinkle between her eyebrows. She looked as heartbroken as he felt.

"In a little while, none of this will have been real," he told her. "Someone slipped a potion in the pie."

She looked shocked and confused. She shook her head. "I want you," she said, pressing closer to him. "I do. I have for a while. And I thought you wanted me."

Of course I want you. I love you, Draco thought with a sigh. "I do. But hanging out with you Gryffindors has actually given me a conscience and it's really a damn shame. Because you're beautiful and you'll probably never look at me this way again." He felt utterly defeated. He brushed a curl out of her face lovingly.

Without answering, Hermione placed his hands gently on his cheeks, her fingertips brushing his skin, and stretched up on her toes to press her mouth to his. Draco's eyes immediately shut to savor the feeling of her soft lips and the taste of her breath through the slight parting of them. It was the lightest kiss he'd ever been given. The people he'd kissed didn't have the capacity for tenderness – it was likely because of this that Draco loved Hermione so dearly.

"I'm sorry," he said, his lips still touching hers.

She knew what he meant. "I think I forgave you a while ago. I was just hurt."

Draco opened his eyes fully to look into hers. "Are you…back?"

"Whatever that was it wore off just as you starting talking about a Gryffindor conscience," Hermione told him. "Which I wasn't sure was a compliment or insult."

Draco took a deep breath. "Insult. Definitely an insult."

"Thank you," Hermione said, taking a small step away from being pressing up against him. "For being the responsible one in a room full of madmen."

"It's my business to keep my head around madmen," Draco said, separating from her fully. "Just be careful what you eat."

Then it seemed to hit Hermione fast. "Yvette! I cannot believe she'd… Well, I mean, maybe I can believe it… And Chelsea was there, but she'd never… Oh, those kids are in so much trouble!"

"You think Yvette and Chelsea had something to do with this?" Draco inquired, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, yes! I knew it was odd that they were spending time together… But why would they do something like this?"

"I was suspecting Adam because of a discussion we had the other day." Draco considered this. "But Yvette baked the pie and for whatever reason Chelsea was with her… Granger, I think we have a conspiracy on our hands."

"Adam, Chelsea, and Yvette," Hermione said, biting the inside of her cheek in thought. "They're bright enough, but they don't normally work together – Chelsea and Adam, but Yvette is a stretch. But I feel like there's a piece of the puzzle missing."

It dawned on Draco. "That piece of a puzzle has a French accent and a bad attitude."

"Of course," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Margot. I'll be having a talk with those four. I can't imagine how they brewed a love potion like that. It wasn't just infatuation, it was almost like the Euphoria Elixir. It had to be an original brew, but none of them could have actually created a potion. They're far too young."

"They had to get it from somewhere," Draco said. "I'll do some asking around. For now I've got to return to the Ministry. I have some very dull meetings to sit through. Maybe I should spike the coffee – it would at least make it more interesting." He started walking away like nothing had changed.

"Will you be…checking in soon?" Hermione asked after him.

Draco sighed. The hard part. "I'll try, but… my post at the Ministry is demanding."

"Of course," Hermione said, adjusting the hem of her skirt for an excuse to look down. "I'll see you… when I see you, I suppose."

Draco nodded, but before he turned to walk away again, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Give those brats hell." And he was gone.

…~oOo~…

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~