Disclaimer: same as previous chapters.
A/N: This chapter was written months ago and has been posted on Hawthorn and Vine - I have only just got around to posting it here...finally! Apologies a thousand times over for the lack of updates in recent past to this story (and others) but they have not been forgotten. Life has just got in the way. :p
It was possibly the only thing Lucius had ever said to Draco that seemed to be the subject of recurring recollection. It had been a fleeting comment and he was only seventeen at the time, but it still resonated within him. Lucius had returned one night from some black tie event and found Draco awake. Instead of reprimanding his son for not being in bed, Lucius had gestured him into his study to sit down while he drank.
Perhaps it was because it had been the first time that his father had treated him like an adult that made the memory so vivid. Whatever the reason, it seemed to have stuck. "Every woman wants to be adored, Draco. But the moment they find out it's not genuine, they will eat you alive like a hungry serpent," he had said.
In hindsight, Draco wondered if his father had been engaged in some sort of affair.
"Draco, dear, you are very quiet this evening," his mother interrupted his train of thought.
They were seated at the dinner table, between courses. Lucius was pouring the wine as Draco watched. His mother was in one of her concerned moods this evening. It annoyed him that she could pick and choose when she wanted to take an interest in his life.
"For a change, I think our son has work on his mind," Lucius supplied as he passed a full glass to his wife.
Draco rolled his eyes. His mother looked across at him expectantly. "Well that should hardly be a surprise. It's going on two years since you took on your father's appointment. Work is the only steady thing you have."
Lucius grunted his approval as he drank from his glass. His mother knew it wasn't in response to her comment.
"Really, Lucius, do you have to carry on like that?"
"Darling, you're yet to try the wine, and so I shall reserve any comment until I see your reaction."
Draco let out a small laugh and drank from his glass, nodding with satisfaction as the smooth drop ignited his tastebuds. "Well, it's by far his best."
Narcissa took a delicate sip, her eyebrows rising in surprise as she swallowed. Lucius chuckled at her expression. "Don't restrain yourself, dear. It's perfectly fine to admit that my reaction was warranted."
"Oh, Lucius, don't be ridiculous. It's very nice, but it's not like you've been deprived of the finest wine in your lifetime."
"Send my commendations to Blaise. It's not every day I drink a fine drop made by my son's good friend. I was right to order a dozen boxes." Draco could only guess where this conversation was leading as he looked at his mother's reaction to the news.
"It's lovely to see that Blaise is finding success in his interests outside of his job. Now there's a young man who's getting his life in order. What about you, Draco? What have you been up to besides turning up to the office every day?"
"Mother – "
"No need to worry, Narcissa. Draco certainly has found a hobby." Lucius smirked.
"Oh?"
Draco sighed. Either his father had guessed right about Granger, or it was his way of fishing for information to confirm his suspicions. He was thinking the former was the most likely. Lucius possessed a sixth sense for the unspoken.
"Where did she say she worked? Muggle Relations? How... charming."
"Who works in Muggle Relations?" His father was in one of his teasing moods and Draco could see his smirk widen as his mother pursed her lips in annoyance. If it was one thing she hated, it was not being privy to gossip.
"Father, really. There is nothing to say."
"Rather pretty young thing. Great legs." He swirled his glass in admiration; the double meaning not escaping Draco.
Draco growled under his breath. "Is that necessary?" he asked, looking at his mother and wishing he had feigned some excuse to avoid dinner. After his episode with Granger earlier that afternoon, he was hardly in the mood to discuss it. They just all wanted to know too much for his liking.
"I can certainly see why she's piqued your interest. Although, I didn't intend your role to be that hands on when I appointed you, Draco."
"What is your father going on about?" Narcissa asked with a clipped tone, narrowing her eyes at her husband who seemed rather too satisfied about something. "Lucius, you are really bothersome sometimes."
"If you would both let me speak –"
"Don't be surprised if your son brings her home to meet you, Narcissa. Now that would be a first in a long blood line." Lucius laughed at his own joke.
Draco tightened his grip on his glass; he could feel his rising fury painting his face as the heat rose past his neck. "Enough." He looked at Narcissa, ignoring his father. "Mother, I'm currently engaging the company in a project with the Ministry. Yes, it is with the department of Muggle Relations. We are sponsoring a Ministry publication. Yes, it's the first of our dealings with the Ministry in a long time, but I don't see how the choice of department is any surprise given the fact that I've been doing business in the Muggle world since Father let me step foot into a board room." It came out a little too defensive. And he had avoided mentioning her name.
"Well it must be something to have your father speaking in riddles," she quipped. Draco was not going to cave.
"Business is business, Mother. I'd prefer not to bore you with details, although I would like you to attend the launch event a week from Saturday... if you're free."
"Oh, delightful! Lucius, why haven't you mentioned this launch?"
"No need, dear. I expect Draco has arranged for the invitations. It is getting rather urgent, isn't it?" Draco was not amused, unlike his father who seemed to be getting a kick out of every moment and every minute detail.
"Well, if it's a week from Saturday, I expect that it is." Narcissa agreed.
Lucius nodded his approval, his eyes lighting up with mischief. "I can't imagine why the Head of the department would need to visit it weren't. Owls usually suffice for communications, especially coming from the Ministry."
Draco shook his head before downing the rest of his glass. "Everything is under control, Father. Don't worry yourself."
"Oh, your father is just being difficult. It's very accommodating for the head of the department to see to it personally. I imagine they are very appreciative of your sponsorship, Draco," Narcissa said.
Lucius snorted.
"Lucius!" Narcissa reprimanded. "Don't be so juvenile. Draco is doing very well – I would have the right mind to say that after your dealings with the Ministry, he has done a very good thing to have re-established positive relations." Draco was somewhat taken aback by his mother's defensive tone. It was a rare thing to have her on his side.
"Thank you, Mother. Now if you will excuse me, I might head up to my old room and re-acquaint myself for the evening. I've a few urgent work matters to attend to." Draco stood up, his glass in hand, turning once, then turning back to grab the bottle in front of his father, a ghost of a smirk crossing his face. "Don't be so jealous, Father. Sorry you can't take credit for this bit of strategic genius. Getting Hermione Granger was simply the added bonus."
He heard his mother gasp as he walked out of the room. Let Lucius explain that one, he thought, chuckling. His momentary amusement was followed by a shake of the head. He would be regretting that indirect admission in the morning.
OOO
The sun hitting from the left stirred Draco awake from his heavy sleep. Disoriented, he opened his eyes and, for a moment, wondered where he was. The sun always trickled in from the right at his place. He looked around with groggy eyes, his gaze falling on the double doors that opened to his bedroom at the Manor. He had fallen asleep on the couch in the sitting room of his old quarters.
Groaning, Draco sat up and rubbed his face. He felt like he had been hit over the head with a brick. Great. He was hung over and his neck and shoulders had cramped and felt like a twisted rag.
Just awful.
He moved to the edge of the seat, slowly standing and running a hand through his dishevelled hair, tilting his head from side to side to loosen up his neck as he rubbed at the base. He shook his head. Honestly, he thought, I couldn't even make it twenty feet to the bed. His eyes wandered to his desk nearby. It was covered with papers, marked up parchment, and the telling empty glass and bottle of wine. Next to that was a half empty bottle of Firewhisky.
"Shit," he muttered. He had meant to send out a stack of Owls; to Carla and... Granger. That explained the Firewhisky. Instead of getting on with his work, he had started dwelling on his last conversation with Granger.
"Where's Mac when you need him?" Draco stood up, and walked to this bathroom to splash some water on his face. He looked up and caught his reflection in the mirror. "Bloody hell."
It was all Granger's fault. "She just had to go there," he muttered under his breath, walking back to his room and pulling out a clean shirt from his cupboard. The mention of duties and plans, coupled with his father's jokes about bringing home a Muggle-born. Shit. It was all too much. As far as Draco was concerned, he had no plans. He was happy to go with the flow. What was it about everyone around him suddenly expecting outcomes?
He needed a second opinion.
St Mungo's was a pain to get into and a pain to leave. Draco avoided the place like a Hippogriff – they had instilled a permanent fear in him that seemed to transcend his logical sensibilities. He rubbed his arm at the thought. One thing he could count on was that it was a mad rush trying to navigate around the place just to avoid being stopped in the corridor and questioned about being there. Someone always knew someone, or saw someone who knew someone else currently in St Mungo's, and so on and so forth.
"Mr Malfoy!" Ah, there it was. Draco reluctantly turned around. His eyebrow rose slightly.
"Mr Proctor," he greeted. "What brings you here?"
"My son has been admitted into the hex removal ward."
Draco paused. He only had one son. "Oh? I'm sorry to hear. If you don't mind me asking, what happened to Mac?"
He watched the Director of Procurements lean back on his heels, his hand coming out of his pocket. "You know how it is; one minute life's perfect and then when it doesn't go your way you do whatever you can to hold onto it." He waved his hand casually. "Anyway... one can be a little over zealous when it comes to matters of the heart... but Mackenzie will be alright..." he trailed. He pursed his lips in thought before giving Draco a small smile.
"Well, is there anything I can do?"
"Perhaps when he is recovered he can return to what he should be focusing on – working for you, that is?"
Draco nodded. "I look forward to it." If experience was anything to go by, he knew exactly why Mac was in St Mungo's. "Let me know if you need anything in the meantime." He put his hand out and shook the Director's hand.
"Very well, Mr Malfoy. Thank you."
Draco turned and hurried to his destination before anyone else noticed him. He knocked on the open door once but didn't bother waiting for an acknowledgment. He had to remove himself from the corridors.
"Draco?"
"Don't act so surprised." He shut the door.
Blaise smirked. "Thought you hated coming here."
"I do." He scanned his mate's office as he stepped in for the first time, walking around, picking up anything remotely of interest and inspecting it to distract himself.
"Do you have to touch everything?"
"Not everything." He grinned and stood in front of Blaise's desk. "Great to see you, too."
Blaise rolled his eyes. Draco moved to sit, but paused as his eyes fell on a photo on the desk. He picked it up, tweaking his brow and sending a questioning look to his friend.
"Padma is my fiancée. I'm allowed to have a photo of the woman I'm about to marry on my desk. It's perfectly normal."
Draco scrunched his nose. "My mother's in love with you, too. Maybe I should bring you a photo of her for your collection of admirers."
"Give me that!" Blaise grabbed the frame from Draco and placed it down gently.
Draco watched in distaste as Padma's photo-self blew Blaise a kiss. "It's perfectly lovely." He sat down.
"Sarcasm aside, I'm sure you just didn't come to the one place you avoid – even when your mother was a patient here – to annoy me."
"Spare me the inquisition. Just give me a minute." Draco leant back, coursing his fingers through his hair. He still felt awful. "Got any hangover potions in this place?"
Blaise sent him a knowing look and opened his drawer. He picked out a vial and slid it across the table to his friend. "Pepper up, only. But it'll do the job."
Draco pulled the cap off and skulled it like his life depended on it. It was instantly soothing. "Thanks." He inhaled. "I definitely needed that."
Blaise gave him an expectant look.
"Granger came to my office yesterday. Lucius was there."
"And?"
The fact that he had to spell it out annoyed him. "Lucius? Granger? Lucius knowing about Granger; Granger acting like a crazy banshee. I actually think we had a fight over it." He hardly realised he had edged forward on his seat in the process of stating the obvious.
"Over your father?"
Draco shot him a glare. Blaise was really being dense. He didn't want to say it. "Do you see where I'm going with this?" he asked impatiently.
"So your father knows you're shagging Granger." He shrugged his shoulders. "Big deal."
"Exactly. Except that it is; they're all making it a big deal. Lucius has been shit-stirring since he found out, and Granger, well...she's in the shits." He exhaled.
"Okay, so you have a lot of shit going on. I'm impressed you came all this way to express yourself so poorly."
Draco narrowed his eyes. "You know this isn't easy for me."
Blaise chuckled. "I can tell."
"Sod off."
"Look, it's simple. Hermione's got under your skin, more than you want to admit. Lucius always gets under your skin."
Draco stood up and started pacing. Everything was just getting out of hand. "I just spent the last week with Lucius discussing my options with the companies. One whole week trying to assure him I'm handling things well so that he's convinced he can plan his bloody retirement. Then, Granger shows up and all Lucius can talk about is Granger and her bloody great legs. To top it off, Granger suddenly blurts out she wants more than a good time. From me? What the fuck? This is the woman who can't decide if she wants to fuck me or have me at arm's length, suddenly wanting more."
"You need to speak to Hermione."
He stopped pacing. And say what, exactly? "Granger has decided to act like every other woman – fun for a while – and suddenly wants to know where it's going. You know I don't go there."
"Maybe that's your problem, Draco. You're treating her like every other woman. She's definitely not interested in being showered with gifts, weekends away, and a photo op with the Daily Prophet's most wanted." Blaise always had a way with words.
"Yes, the whole bloody wizarding population knows how different and perfect she is." He shook his head in frustration, thinking about how much perfect Granger riled him. If she was out of her comfort zone for a second, she would just revert to her work or shut him off. "Bloody control freak," he muttered.
"Seriously, Draco. You need to talk to Hermione. If you two can't communicate what you really want, you will keep playing games and the sex will fizzle out. You're both strong personalities and if you don't want anything further, tell her. I'm sure Parker is willing to oblige."
Draco growled and turned away. There were definitely no problems with the sex. Except that they hadn't had any for nearly two weeks. But it wasn't the point. It was just that he wanted it on his terms. He clenched his fists. "How did you know Padma was it?" he asked suddenly.
"I didn't." He shrugged. "I was just willing to find out. The sex was too damn good to give up."
Draco smirked. "It's not that easy with Granger."
"So you've thought about it?"
"No..." He sighed and sat down, rubbing the back of his neck with this hand. "I don't want her -" He trailed off. It was slithering into the forefront of his consciousness and he didn't want to acknowledge it. He shut his eyes, pushing back, demanding himself not to see what was there. "I don't want her..." He was slipping. "...to get hurt," he said finally.
Silence enveloped them. Blaise knew exactly where this was going. "Ah, the inevitable heir."
"Don't remind me."
