Chapter 8:

Hermione was woken by a throbbing headache. Great, fabulous, just what I needed.

She reached for the green tea she knew was next to her palate and sat up. Moaning at the dizziness she felt, she sipped her tea and let the soft heat and smell wash over her aching face.

After finishing the tea, she slowly stood and walked smoothly over to the armoire in the corner. Automatically she took out the necessary items and placed them over one arm. She thanked the four months of stringent routine for her ability to function on auto-pilot while dealing with an escalating migraine.

These came about once a month for her and for the two days they lasted, she was in Hell. No pain potion worked and she was unable to find a spell either. She had looked in every library in Kyoto and owled all of the top Healers in Japan, but nothing they prescribed helped.

Each migraine was the same. They began with a general ache, progressed to a throbbing headache, then there was a continuous sharp pain at the back of her head, a flood of memories, and then so much general pain that her vision blurred and she would sometimes black out.

She wasn't an idiot though. She knew exactly why they were brought on, and unfortunately had a feeling she knew the cure. It could all be traced to the memories – each and every one featured Draco Malfoy.

Sometimes they were of a past encounter and some were of future encounters. Others featured only him, in what was clearly the present. She was no fool. She knew that it all related to the one night she'd spent with him at the Lestrange manor. She thought back to the morning after …

Flashback

They'd made love a total of four times that night. Gods I'm sore. Damn why am I awake …eurgh can't that bloody man stay still?! She felt him rustling around next to her, his arm over her stomach and something hard poking her hip.

She opened her eyes.

He was watching her in the early morning light, marveling at the different colors of her hair. It was unique, certainly not gorgeous or stunning, but unique and beautiful all the same. Draco's long blond hair cascaded down the pillow and mixed with her own, creating a confection of color around their heads.

"As much as I would love to help you out, Mr. Malfoy, I'm not sure my muscles could stand it."

He chuckled, "I don't think that it would withstand the attempt either; a trip to the loo and I'll be fine." He was amazed at her calmness in the aftermath. He'd never woken up with someone before. It had always been a quick shag and she-bang he was gone, no pun intended.

He hadn't wanted to leave her in the early morning. That made him nervous. He couldn't handle emotions or such nonsense, especially not now in the middle of the war. At least she is worthy of attention now.

The one thing Merlin did right was to acknowledge her true bloodlines. Granted that meant he'd been out of line calling her a Mudblood at Hogwarts, but she would never know.

Malfoys never apologize. They also never stay the night … fuck, what am I doing?! I've got to go. She can't expect anything from me, right? I'm a Malfoy and one of the most trusted servants of the Dark Lord. What's she gasping at?

During his little pride-session in his head, she had been watching his face, enjoying the multiple expressions that went across it. He was so unguarded in that moment that she had pretty much figured out everything that had just gone on in his head.

As she looked down his face and chest, she glanced at his shoulder and made a loud gasping sound. Oh dear magical Merlin, what have we done?!

On it was a faintly marked circle, exactly where she had bitten him the night before. She looked quickly at her own and noticed the same marking. The circle was really a series of small runes running together. She couldn't quite recognize them all, but understood enough to be going on with.

"Malfoy."

"Lestrange. As much fun …" She held up her hand to stop him.

"If I said, 'the one' to you, does it mean anything?"

He sat up and stared at her, "Why would you want to know?"

She hesitated, knowing that it what she was going to say would probably cement all of his former feelings against her, "Well muggles believe," he huffed, "hush, I was raised a muggle so I'll damn well use what I learned."

She pinned him with a glare and continued on in her best know-it-all voice, "At any rate, most muggles believe that there is a certain person in the world that is 'their one.' The two will basically accentuate each other in a way that no other person can. Not to say that they can't live happily without each other or fall in love with other people, but they will never find true completeness except for with this one person. My theory is that in the magical world it's a little different. The magics mesh and the pair can become bonded through intimacy."

She took a breath and avoided his increasingly cold face. "I think we may have bonded last night," she mumbled quietly and finally lifted her eyes to his face.

He sneered, "You know, I've heard a lot of shit over the years, little miss know-it-all, but that takes the cauldron. I think we merely had an enjoyable night of fucking and now you want me to stick around. Not a chance, I'm a Malfoy, killer of Dumbledore and not easily tricked into a relationship." He snorted at her astonished expression.

"I thou … you did … what?! Snape … explain." She sat on the bed in all her glory, hair tangled and eyes fudged with old eyeliner, looking completely bewildered and a little sad.

He stood up sneering and walked over to his clothes, which he slowly put on. He began nonchalantly, "Ole Snape has been a traitor since before the Dark Lord disappeared. You think we didn't know that?!" He glanced at her sitting forlornly on the bed and smirked.

"That night on the tower, I polyjuiced into Snape and he was forced to be me. We gave him one last chance to show his loyalty and he was unable to do so. The failsafe was that I came and finished Dumbledore off and the old idiot thought his perfectly laid plan went off without a hitch." He pulled his pants up hurriedly, sensing her increasing fury, but determined to get the better of her for once.

He buttoned his pants with a snap. "You think the Dark Lord wasn't going to remember the Headmaster's portrait? But now, Dumbledore's spy is being told all the wrong things under an Unbreakable Oath, while everyone thinks he is immensely trusted within the Death Eaters circle. I'm no weakling like he portrayed me to be. I know who will win this war and it won't be poor, Halfblood Potty." He smirked at the last thought and sat to put on his shoes.

"You are a fool, Draco Malfoy. Can't you see what is happening around you?" She knew she had to tread carefully since everyone thought she was firmly a Death Eater-to-be now. "The Dark Lord is getting more and more insane, even the upper Death Eaters just want this war to be over. Of course we will win, we have money and can buy our way out of anything."

She grimaced inwardly at what she was saying. "But you hold your childhood grudges, unable to accept that you might be wrong, you bigot! For Merlin's sake, you follow a Halfblood already!"

Her eyes were glinting red and her hair crackled with anger, the colors standing rigidly out against the black. "One day, you will see what an idiot you've been! I hope it just isn't in Azkaban." With that she flounced out of bed, threw on a pair of jeans, a bra and a long-sleeved polo and he stood sneering.

"Oh ho, says the Veri Lestrange that kissed and danced with the Dark Lord and loyal servants just last night. Which are you? Veri Lestrange, Death Eater's daughter or Hermione Granger, one of the golden trio and Mudblood extraordinaire." He was staring at her, his features akin to stone.

"I don't know." That was all she said.

End Flashback

Four months later and she could still see his eyes shutter, hear the door slam behind him and feel her heart burn as he walked away. She asked herself the same question everyday.

The answer would come one day, she was sure. For now, she went by Hermione; a plan of her parents to keep her less visible should people come looking for the Lestrange heiress.

She didn't know who she was anymore really. For so long her life had been defined by who was around her – the girl whose parents are dentists, the girl who is a Mudblood, the girl who is friends with Potter and Weasley, Krum's girl, Weasley's girl, Potter's wife, daughter of the Lestranges – she wasn't any of those things, not really.

She, for right now, was plain Hermione in an elite geisha house in Kyoto. Ok so that's normal and everything …

When she had arrived in Japan, she had realized the necessity of acquiring grace and balance before she attempted the more stringent courses of karate, aikido, some samurai sword techniques and eventually ninja training.

If she was going to be in Asia for five years, she'd be damned if she wasn't going to learn all she could to help when she went home. She had gone to an elite geisha house in Kyoto, having heard of the Lady Nakamura who was head of the house.

Carrying a letter of recommendation from Bella, she was immediately accepted into the house and introduced into the arts of manners, entertainment, spying and even a secret form of fighting that only certain geisha ever learned.

Memories flashed of her night with Draco.

The sheets tangling about their sweaty forms as they fought for completion.

Her, riding his cock – back arched, screaming his name.

Him pounding into her from behind as she clung to the bed post.

Her slowly licking her way down to his straining member and licking it from root to tip.

Him angrily buttoning up his shirt, missing one button – not that she ever said anything.

Her storming out the door after him, to make him listen, but falling on the floor outside her room crying instead.

Her packing up quickly in an attempt to leave before a possible summons.

Nights alone thinking of how messed up her life was.

Mornings in a cold bed, wondering why she had ever let Draco Malfoy, of all people, sleep with her after only two encounters.

Days of migraines as she felt and watched him relieve his own stresses and pains.

She leaned her head against a window to soothe the throbbing pain. She forced herself to push the painful thoughts and images back into the recesses of her mind. She thought to the future instead, to combat the pesky past.

In two months she would leave the house to go into training with Master Ching, somewhere in China – she was to be told closer to the time of arrival.

She knew Draco was somewhere in China at the moment as her head gave a particularly nasty throb and sent an image of him in Hong Kong through her brain. He had already made a name for himself in Asia, 'Ryu' as he was known – going under an alias for obvious reasons.

He had earned a master degree in Karate in just two years. He could even become a dragon the gossips said. Hermione didn't doubt it one bit. It would figure that his animagus was a dragon. Probably a big, green Hungarian Horntail. She snorted.

At the beginning of her own training in the geisha house she had been told she needed to find her spirit as well. Placed under hypnosis, she was sent on an internal journey through her mind to find her animagi.

She had found not one, but four.

Apparently all of her parents' recessive genes had culminated in her. That's what they get for marrying out of the family! Dad just had to be from a French family that had no connections to the Blacks. Veri Lestrange indeed (A/N: Lestrange means 'the strange' literally in French … sound it out people).

Its not enough that I can do wandless magic, am an auto-Occlumens, andI can sense auras too … nope, I have to be a bloody morphable Dr. Dolittle and prove the Purebloods right, that if bred correctly they would be the strongest.

What cock and bull. The only reason that even works out is because their powers have been developing over hundreds of years while new powers are springing up all around. Look at Harry's mum!

She scowled at herself for always being the exception to the rule and thought about what her animals had said.

A dragon, lioness, fox and phoenix – how cliché could she get?! The irony was what each stood for, each a part of the group that would eventually balance her mercurial nature out.

The dragon represented love and loyalty to those that were loyal in return.

The lion represented her aggressiveness in issues close to her and desire to control.

The fox represented her patient and cunning side, it had to keep the lion in check so that she could get what she needed in the end.

The phoenix represented her ability to understand and cope with different situations and often kept the dragon in check by not letting her judgment be controlled by emotions.

Each was an integral part of who she was as a whole and who she could be with their help. She had, of course, only mentioned one of the animals to her "Mother" at the house, assuming that four was simply not normal.

The woman had been extremely pleased at the lioness being her animal, going on about its grace and poise. Hermione rolled her eyes. Boy did she learn differently! It's not my fault I'm not naturally graceful … or wasn't, I don't think I could try to be clumsy now if I wanted to.

Feeling that her headache was about to spike, she wrote a small note to her "Mother" and sent it with a wave of her hand. She knew the only cure was to have her bonded nearby, to complete the bond, but that was especially unwise.

Draco was known to be cold and ruthless nowadays and Hermione had no desire to face him until she was good and ready, so five years from now?

She sighed and lay back down, now dressed in a casual short kimono and pants, massaging her head at the pain. As she heard the door open and sensed her "Mother" enter, she felt the migraine peak and she blacked out – the last image being Draco bedding some Chinese whore.