Things were getting harder in Wright Manor. Lady Wright was becoming more and more angry with her new visitor, while Blake was becoming more and more lonely and finding it harder to stay faithful. Hermione had begun feeling more confident with herself and doubted herself less. With every passing day she had grown more and more defiant towards Blake, acting more like a disobedient daughter than a spiteful wife.
Just days before Draco nestled himself into his new office and began his work as head of the department, Hermione stumbled across what seemed like a storage closet, much like Snape's old potions closet. It was tall and narrow with golden brown wooden cabinets that spanned every inch of each wall. They each had gold plaques with Roman numerals and Greek letters. Each cabinet was small and held shrunken parchments.
Excitedly, she took as many she could, putting them in every contour and crevice she could stuff them in on her person and quickly left.
Locking herself in her bedroom, she read through each parchment, absorbing as much as she could. She felt like she was in the library at Hogwarts again, teaching herself spells and facts that all the teachers failed to remember.
She read through every page, trying to decipher the ink blots and faded writing. They were spells and potions! She could barely pronounce some of the spells and incantations, but she was determined.
The incantation and pronunciation titled each parchment, with scribbled notes filling the rest of the page with an essay of its origin, purpose, and uses. Squinting and bringing the paper closer to her face, Hermione noticed the oddest thing. In the corner of every page there was a small scribble, almost like a copyright signature.
"Use the Wright spells."
Hermione gasped and whirled around, holding her wand at the ready. Blake stood in the doorway, smirking at his supposed wife. "Use the Wright Spells," he repeated. "It was the corny name of the very first Wright shop that got us started on our fortune."
She kept her wand poised as she glared at him. She didn't beckon him to go on, but she didn't tell him to stop.
"Use the Wright Spells was a small shop that created spells for everyday use. It was created by one of my ancestor's on my father's side," he paused as he eyed the mess of parchments on her bed. "These are from the cupboard in the hall, aren't they? These are their spells. All of them were created by Wright family members."
"How interesting," Hermione drawled. Although her mind was highly fascinated by the interesting history the family had, she couldn't let it show. She slipped her wand back into her pocket.
Blake smiled warmly at Hermione, trying to remain unfazed by her sarcasm. "Care to join me for a drink?"
"I don't drink."
"Great, neither do I," he lied smoothly. "How about dinner?"
"I don't eat," she replied quickly, ignoring the loud rumble from her stomach.
At that, Blake had to bark out a laugh. Hermione gazed at him, wide-eyed. "You caught me there," he said, grinning widely. "Come on, join me for just one dinner? Just the two of us, I promise." His eyes flickered as he looked Hermione dead in the eye, neither letting their gaze fall. How could she resist? He was laughing at her jokes. He was telling her about his family. He was letting her snoop around in private files. He was turning on the Wright charm! This girl had to be daft to say no to his prize-winning smile.
Hermione sighed, knowing he wouldn't stop bugging her if she wouldn't agree eventually. She felt like she was back in Hogwarts, having to fight off the creepy school boys with a stick just to get to class. "Maybe one of these days," she muttered reluctantly.
Blake nodded. He'll take what he can get. "I'll hold you to that!" he exclaimed, before smiling politely and leaving. As the door locked behind him he scowled, storming down the hallway before disapparating to his study.
"How long would I have to deal with this?" Hermione and Blake groaned simultaneously.
Hermione hated the kind of men she attracted. They always came onto her in the wrong ways, never with romanticism, and always with such forceful and physical attitudes. She was no stranger to the sly smirk and the doe eyed look, or the suggestive glances and blown kisses. Hermione never minded being single, - she had her mind set on more important things, you see - but a great part of that was because of the men she was surrounded by all her life.
Once or twice she considered women, but she would quickly shake the thought away. That's not the way she swung.
Shooing away the mindless thinking, she quickly turned her gaze back to the parchments on her bed. "Using the Wright Spells," she mused to herself. "What a clever name."
After reading the incantation on the top of the page and skimming the essay, she pointed to the stool in front of the vanity and said, "Alarte Ascendare!" It shot up in the air, hitting the ceiling and probably even denting it. Hermione winced and quickly cast the Aresto Momentum charm to cushion the fall.
She sat on the floor, reading some of the various essays. She had to admit, she was thoroughly impressed. The essays were specific with the origins and uses of the spell. It listed the instances that it could be most helpful in, and with what other charm it could be most powerful. Hermione couldn't help but wonder where the intelligence had gotten lost in the gene pool before Blake was born.
Hermione's thoughts were interrupted with a loud crack. She looked up to find Dolly balancing a bottle of wine and a silver platter. "Master Wright wanted Dolly to bring food for Mistress Granger," she said, placing the platter and taking the cover off. Hermione's stomach grumbled as she hungrily stared at the plate. Dolly noticed this and said, "It's Blanquette de veau and rice with vegebles." Her French accent was clumsy and obviously practiced.
Hermione noted with a frown Dolly's bad vocabulary. "Thank you, Dolly. It looks amazing," she thanked her with a smile. She eyed the wine bottle that Dolly was still holding against her small frame. "What is the bottle of wine for?"
Dolly set it down in front of her, grunting from letting the extra weight finally go. "Master Wright wanted Dolly to bring this to Mistress Granger." Dolly snapped her fingers and the cork unscrewed itself. The house elf quickly conjured a glass for Hermione to drink from. "He says 'let's be friends'." Dolly waved her small bony hand and the bottle began to pour into the cup.
"Thank you, Dolly," Hermione repeated. She couldn't help but feel a bit apprehensive about drinking the wine.
Once the house elf left Hermione pointed her wand at the brim of her cup and said, "Specialis Revelio." Nothing happened, she noticed with a frown. She didn't trust Blake. She was almost positive that he had tampered with the wine, for what, though, she did not know. She spooned some rice into her mouth and muttered, "Friends my arse."
"Purificar," she muttered absentmindedly, tapping the brim of the cup and bottle as the spell cleaned the wine of poison. She raised the glass sarcastically at no one in particular, smiling ruefully as she thought silently, "Sitting on someone else's floor, drinking someone else's wine, in someone else's home..." She owned nothing.
She drank the thoughts down.
Around nine that morning, Blake apparated just outside the grounds of his home. He could see the large black gate, looming through the dripping white fog like a beast. It's iron bars curled in gnarled and demented ways, giving an uneasy feeling. Past the gate is the Wright home, although that is not for another mile. There are murderous bushes and carnivorous plants, with a few endangered animals here and there. Each was mother's personal touch.
Taking one last look around him, he began to walk.
Instead of taking a carriage or apparating to the Ministry, Blake enjoyed to walk. He would walk for miles, not breaking a sweat. It was the only alone time that he ever had throughout the day.
It was a gloomy day, with a graying-cloud sky and dull expressions on everyone's face as he walked down the business district's streets. Shops lined every side of the cobble-stoned street, with merchants and working class people rushing off to work. Blake smirked at their haste. He walked to work because he had the leisurely time to waste; in reality, there was no need for him at the Ministry. He could stay at the manor all day, lying around and doing nothing. Instead he chooses to go to the Ministry and pretend to be an important political figure. Unlike these people who passed him on the streets, he had no need for work, why would he need to earn a living when his living had already been earned for him, hundreds of years before?
His smug mood dampened considerably as he remembered the meeting that he had to have with Draco Malfoy about his offer.
Groaning inwardly, he pulled the collar of his pea coat up to cover his neck. Blake trudged on.
As he neared the red telephone box he mused, "Who should I have lunch with today?" Thinking over his possible companions, he tapped in 62443 on the number pad. Slowly, he descended into the Ministry entrance. He thought of his coworker Linda's long pale legs and how nicely they fit in those skirts she wears. 'She would do', he decided as he entered the Ministry.
Blake walked over to the elevator, ignoring the ominous statue that stood in the middle of the entire place. He could feel the shadow of the wizard standing above the muggles loom over him. Sliding out of his jacket, he stepped into the elevator andsmiled flirtatiously at the woman who boarded after him. She was older than him, with curly black hair and a toned black body, a long neck and dark brown eyes.
She returned his smile hesitantly, eyeing the young man in front her.
"I'm Blake Wright," he said, producing his hand for her to shake. Her smile turned wry and feline as she shook it. "I don't believe we've met before."
"Eliza Shacklebot," she replied smoothly. Blake drank in her voice, enjoying the amused undertones and kissing every syllable. Without a doubt, this tall amazon of a woman in a little black dress, was sexy.
"What a lovely name," he murmured. The elevator dinged and the large brass doors opened. "Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," the intercom said.
"Pleasure meeting you," Eliza murmured, leaving the elevator and disappearing down the shadowy hallway.
Blake, still intoxicated, rode the rest of the way up to the Department of Exterminations and Examinations. Ignoring the bland faces as he left the elevator, he strolled through the large circular entrance area and down the hallway, to the sole purple door at the end of the hallway. "Draco Malfoy, Head of Department of Exterminations and Examinations," the plaque read. Opening the door, he found himself in a quaint waiting room with a small blond secretary sitting behind the desk. He whistled lowly as he came in, smiling politely at the girl.
"Name, please?" she asked dully without looking up at him.
"Blake Wright," he answered, sitting down on the couch.
Suddenly the door behind the girl opened, revealing Draco Malfoy in a black suit, scowling at his visitor. "Get in," he said, walking back to his desk.
Blake, grinning at Draco's obvious irritation, walked in and looked around the office. "Looking sharp, Malfoy," he said sarcastically.
Malfoy ignored him and shuffled around a few papers on his desk.
"I'm here about Granger," Blake stated. He sat back in the comfortable plush arm chair and accepted the cup of tea that conjured itself on the small table beside him.
Malfoy sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "I hate this job, please don't make it even worse," he muttered. His voice was more of remorse than it was of pleading. His face was tired with dark circles and deep frown lines along his face. His eyes squeezed shut, hiding the icy blue orbs.
"I'm not doing this for your sake. I need her to be somewhere that she could be safe-"
Draco snorted, leaning back in his chair and chuckling sarcastically. "You want me to babysit your wife?"
"I did a favor for you it's only fair you do the same," Blake said, clearly annoyed by Draco making fun of him. His face visibly darkened, his eyes narrowing to slits.
"I want you to plead for it," Draco said. He grinned mischievously. He stood up, rolling his cuffs up to his elbows as he stared Blake down. He tried to keep from laughing as he watched Blake's face morph into anger. Blake stood up abruptly, his handsome face turning red as he glared at Draco.
"Excuse me?" Blake demanded. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Do you think you would be in this office if it weren't for me?" He let out an angry string of curses, throwing his cup of tea onto the antique carpet. Draco rolled his eyes as he watched the young man's tantrum unfold in front of him.
Once Blake had quieted to a heavy breathing and the colors in his face had faded back to the simple pale color, Draco said, "Get out of my office."
"Your office?" Blake snorted. "This is my office! This is my entire building! This department wouldn't even exist without me!"
Draco rolled his eyes at Blake's melodramatics. "Fine, I'll help you," he sighed. "Now quit bloody whining and leave." With a wave of his hand the door opened itself, slamming to the wall behind it.
Blake tried to hide his embarrassment and quickly left the office after telling Draco that he would owl him soon. Practically running out of the department and Ministry, he silently thought, how would this work out?
Draco sat in his chair, his trademark smirk gracing his features. He enjoyed sneering down at Blake's tantrum and watching his face turn red with anger. A new glass of fire whiskey poured itself beside Draco's hand. Gratefully, Draco sipped at it as he looked through the various files on his desk, trying to get the thought of Granger from his mind.
'Beau Baudelaire,' one file read. 'Age sixteen, green eyes, brown hair, caucasion. Half blood. Escaped from Azkaban, wanted for murder and petty theft.' Draco eyed the picture carefully, trying to memorize the young face. Beau looked like he came straight from the countryside, with a deeply sad frown and droopy eyes, and sandy hair and rough skin. In his photo he was frowning into the camera like a child, and his hair blew in the wind as a train ran behind him.
How could such a young kid like him commit murder? Draco wondered as he thumbed through the file. It was a pile of various documents from throughout his life, even school documents like his results for his OWL's. He went to Durmstrang, but his soft child-like features seemed completely different compared to the harsh and rough features that he remembered seeing in his fourth year at Hogwarts. As Draco read through each document and got deeper and deeper into the child's life, he couldn't believe that he had to order this kid's death.
The glass beside him suddenly filled itself again, and Draco realized what kind of charm it had. Every time someone felt tense or irritated, a glass of fire whiskey would fill itself. Draco almost smirked as he sipped from the glass and leaned back in his chair.
Blake unlocked the black gate, his eye brows still furrowed in thought. He stepped through into the beautiful garden that his mother had the elves tend to. Blake could see the bobbing heads of various elves as they manually pulled weeds and watered the blooming plants. He strolled through the trails in the large garden, watching as each bewitched plant moved with each other in the wind.
He picked up a clipped blossom that was left on the ground as he lazily strolled through each grassy trail. He picked the petals off the blossom as he thought. And as always, his thoughts came back to Hermione.
He pictured her sitting in her bedroom and reading. He enjoyed listening to her read aloud, or casting spells. Blake hated to admit how many times he would stop in front of her bedroom door and cautiously listen to her voice, wishing that she would just give him a chance. He had agreed to this arrangement, not only to make the Kind happy, but to hopefully make himself happy. He's heard so many stories about arranged marriages going well, but things never really went along normally with the Wright family.
He stopped in front of a second large gate that led to a gloomier part of the garden. He had never dared stepping through this gate, instead stopping behind it to watch the poisonous plants hiss and snatch at each other. He threw the last few petals into the other side of the gate and watched as each pink petal gray and wither up.
Suddenly, he felt a hand on his arm. He whipped around and caught sight of his mother staring gravely into the other side of the garden. She wore a large brimmed hat with a thin veil covering her face, and white gloves covering her thin, shaking hands. She smiled tightly at her handsome son, admiring the familiar child-like stare he gave her. "Hello, son," she said quietly.
He nodded.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Thinking," Blake responded. He fingered the last petal he kept as he stared into the dark garden.
"Don't waste your time on that Granger girl," Lady Wright advised. She smoothed her hand across Blake's shoulders comfortingly. "We could easily get rid of her. She's a waste of our time."
"She's my wife," Blake said. His voice was sarcastic.
Lady Wright rolled her eyes. "That isn't necessarily true."
Blake broke the few moments of silence. "I feel like I could love her if she gave me the chance," he confessed. His cheeks turned pink; he had not been able to admit that to anyone, not even himself.
In all truth, he admired the conviction she had. He could sense her bravery and intelligence from a mile away. He wanted to absorb the powerful golden aura she had about her every time she was in the room. He saw her a few times a day, and each time he would try and entice her with a few simple words, hoping she would fall for the charm, but she never did. She was too smart for him, too classy for his tricks.
Blake could never bring himself to admit that he would love to one day kiss her full pink mouth. No, that secret he could take to his grave.
Lady Wright's surprised breath caught in her throat. "Have I not taught you better?" she hissed into his ear. Her grip on his shoulder tightened threateningly. "Do you see what this parasite is doing? She is seducing you into breeding with her, into make disgusting little mutts that would run around and ruin our beautiful home and world." She grabbed Blake's face and roughly pulled it to meet her cold dead eyes. He stared into them fearfully. "I've lived all these years under your wing hoping you would lead this family to great heights once again, but obviously, I am wrong."
"No! I can, I really can," Blake pleaded. He grabbed his mother's hand and said, "I am doing everything I can for our family."
"Including bringing a mudblood into our home?" Lady Wright leaned in close enough to breathe on his cheek. "Is that considered a service to your family?"
"It was under the King's orders!" Blake assured. He was practically yelling, almost on his knees begging for forgiveness.
"And I have to continue living in my home, trying to ignore the slime that is inhabiting my property!"
Blake had tears in his eyes. This was his fault. He had agreed to marrying Hermione into the family, practically giving her everything that was his. He did it with the best of intentions, though! He wanted to please his mother with an heir, and to give the King a new follower. All Hermione did, though, was make things harder for him.
"I'll get rid of her," Blake muttered. He was on his knees in the grass now, his face in his hands.
Lady Wright glared down at her pathetic son. She ignored the temptation to strike him for being so pathetic and stupid. "How?"
"She'll live somewhere else." Blake looked up at his mother finally. "I promise I'll do it soon."