Chapter Eight

~Hermione~

His lips were so cold but yet so soft between her own. It felt long enough to make her mind go numb, but really had lasted only a few seconds. She wanted to pull away from him, wanted to push him away from her, wanted to run away and leave the Manor behind her. Instead she found herself sighing slightly, her lips vibrating into his own. Then, he tugged away, face paled and eyes whitened.

"I'm so sorry Draco," Hermione felt herself blushing and pulling away from his grasp, "I shouldn't have led you on like that."

Draco nodded and stepped out of the bed, turning away from her, "I have to go to work."

"I should get ready too then," Hermione clambered out of bed, "There's probably a huge line at the coffee shop by now."
"I don't think that will be necessary Hermione," Draco turned around looking at her coolly as he buttoned his dress shirt.

"It's no bother really, the guy there knows my order. He probably has it laid out by now."

"Don't you get it? I thought you were the brilliant Miss Know-It-All? You're fired Hermione."

"What?"

"Fired. Dismissed. Sacked. Canned. Unemployed. Your services are no longer needed." Hermione nodded. Her only opportunity to leave the Manor was gone. She would die in here. She watched Draco apparate out of his bedroom, before leaving for her own. A strapless sundress was already laid out on her made bed. She tugged it on before tossing Draco's t-shirt into the garbage.

Her stomach groaned and rumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten a solid meal since brunch with Draco Friday morning.

"Knob?" Hermione called out for her little house elf, but there was no reply. Hermione glanced at her reflection, remembering how she had done the same weeks ago. She wasn't pregnant, and her then boyfriend was fast asleep in her bed. She spent thirteen hours each day doing what she loved and came home to her penthouse in New York City. She was thinner back then, at least 20 pounds thinner. Her eyes were warmer and her hair was shinier and less frizzy.

"I'm so sorry Mistress," Knob appeared in her room with a crack, out of breath and with fearful eyes, "I couldn't get away. I am ready to take my punishment."

"I'm not going to punish you," Hermione sighed, "I just wanted to know where I could find the kitchen."

"Down the back stairs and the third door to the right ma'am," Knob squeaked, "I could show you the way if you like."

"That won't be necessary Knob," Hermione nodded her thanks to the elf and set out through the house barefoot. She found the backstairs, winding into the darkness, the creaking wood looking almost terminal. If she knew how long the stairs went down she could apparate to the bottom of them, but it seemed as if they plunged all the way to hell. Suddenly, she regretted not putting on shoes as she glanced at the splintered wood.

"Here I go," she sighed, before stepping onto the steps.

Hermione settled on the back steps of the Manor, balancing a loaded plate on her lap. The elves had gathered around her, asking if she wanted a lobster or a steak. She had just laughed and proceeded on making her own lunch. 15 minutes later, she was walking out with two ham and cheese sandwiches, some mac and cheese, and a chocolate milkshake. She walked out onto the back steps overlooking the gardens and just sat in awe, devouring her food and warming her skin in the late May sun. The chocolate milkshake soothed her aching throat and she savored the extra whipped cream that she had dumped on top. The warm earth looked so inviting, she had so desperately missed the feel of grass between her toes. Tentatively, Hermione stepped off of the grass, swishing her toes against the green blades. Then she was up and spinning through the lawn, watching her skirt swirl around her knees. She twirled and leaped and spun, twisting her face up to grin at the sun.

"Well hey there pretty lady," a gardener appeared from the hedges, his smiling face tanned and worn from the son.

"Hi there," Hermione grinned, spinning around once before reaching her hand out to him, "I'm Hermione."

"Bert," he smiled, placing a soft kiss on her hand, "I haven't seen you around here before."

"I'm new," Hermione shrugged before glancing out at the miles of floral hedges around her, "Are you in charge of all of these?"

"Why yes ma'am, I'm the head gardener," she watched him approach her, so close that she could count the thin hairs on his chin.

"Must be a lot of work. Maybe you could should me some time."

"I think that would be swell. We could even have ourselves a picnic."

"I don't think that would be necessary," Draco had suddenly appeared behind her, eyes livid and a protective hand at the small of her back.

"Draco! I was just-"

"Inside. Now," he grunted tersely, firmly grabbing her wrist and dragging into the cool shadows of the Malfoy Manor.

~Draco~

"What the hell was that?" Draco slammed the door behind them and spun around to face Hermione. He had come home early from work that day, wanting to surprise her. He had practically sprinted from room to room, terrified that she had ran off. Only to find her with the gardener outside. His eyes were practically spilling out of his head while her breasts were practically spilling out of her dress. Couldn't he tell by the swell in her stomach and the ring of her finger that she wasn't available?

"I was making friends," Hermione snapped back, stroking the spot where he had so viciously grabbed her.

"You can make plenty of friends. Just not with him."

"Why because he is a gardener or because he has a dick?"

"Both," Draco hissed infuriatedly, tossing his hands up in the air. How could she even consider talking to another guy when he wasn't around? What was she, some scarlet woman?

"Let me remind you," Draco hissed, pushing close to her, "You are mine." He saw the fear in her eyes, as she flinched away from him. He sighed, running a finger through her curls.

"Here, I have something to show you," Draco held out his hand for hers.

"What is the place?" She breathed stepping into the shadows.

"Lumos," Draco murmured holding his wand out. The pale light revealed tall bookshelves at least 30 feet high and stretching out as far as the eye can see. He turned towards Hermione, watching her eyes grow and begin to calculate the best strategy to read all of the books.

"It's beautiful," she ran to the nearest shelf and strummed her fingers over the spines.

"It's dusty," he laughed dryly, "No one's cracked a book open in years."

"It's so sad," she whispered, pulling a book of a shelf and fingering its yellowed pages.

"C'mon," he grinned, "There's more." He grabbed her hand again as they disappeared between the shelves.

"When I was a boy," he began, breaking the silence, "I would always tiptoe and whisper when I was in the library. It was funny really, my parents never came in here. It was always just me but I was afraid that I would disturb someone if I came in here. If I was angry I would come in here, push a few books off a shelf and hide on the shelf for hours. I would come out after supper and they hadn't even noticed that I was gone."

"I'm sure they would miss you if you had really left," Hermione squeezed his hand, then gasped as she saw an ivory grand piano squatting in the middle of the library.

~Hermione~

Every Saturday morning while breakfast was being cooked in the kitchen, the Granger family was drawn to the upright in their living room. Mr. Granger would bang out a simple melody while Hermione and her mum clapped their hands and sang little ditties. By the time Hermione was seven, she was putting poetry to music and it was her parents that sang. Her small fingers loved tickling the ivories and she would shriek with joy when she would be able to produce a good sound from them. When Hermione left for Hogwarts the Grangers moved into a little cottage in the country and left the upright in their old home.

Hermione reached out tentatively for the keys, striking them and reveling in the sound that they made. She began to pound on them, letting the angry sound fill her and boil up inside. Loosen your wrists, strike gently. Tucking her dress underneath her, Hermione sat down and began to play again. This is time it was a simple yet intricately beautiful melody. It was soft and delicate, heartbreakingly sweet. Another set of hands joined with her, playing harmony with her. They sat there for what seemed like hours, with only the light of Draco's wand and the sound of their playing.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Draco lifted his hands from the keys.

"What exactly?" Hermione turned to face him, her right hand still softly tapping on the keys.

"The kiss. Yelling at you."

"It was my fault you kissed me. I was lying in your bed not wearing underwear. It could have been worse."

"I know you don't love me."

"You're right," Hermione stood, running her fingers through her skirt, "It doesn't matter. It's time for dinner."

AN: hey guys! Sorry for the lack of chapters today! Usually I've been doing 2-3, but today this is my first chapter… I'm sorry nothing interesting happened in this chapter, but it all had to happen for the next chapter. Leave me some baby names and some reviews!