A/N: I'm aliiiiive! :)
Thank you all for bearing with me as I moved cross country these past few weeks. I'm so honored by all the reviews and all the checking in, and I'm sorry for the wait! Three things:
1- I am so incredibly honored to let you know that I have been nominated in several categories in the Enchanted Awards this year. Starting March 18 you can vote for semi-finals, so please check out all the amazing work going on by all these amazing authors, and send in a vote! I think you can only vote and see the list through Facebook? Correct me in the reviews if I'm wrong, but it's the awesome group Granger Enchanted Survivors 18+
2- God bless those who post and host writing sprints on Dramione FanFiction Forum (another amazing Facebook group). You can totally feel personally responsible that this chapter got out this week instead of next. ;) - (EDIT - I had my Facebook groups confused. DFF is hosting writing sprints, although I credited Strictly Dramione earlier. Both are incredibly supportive and wonderful groups. Check them out.)
3- And finally, I believe it is safe to say that this story will be 36 chapters long. (And you have no idea how upset I am that I couldn't make it 35, like 35,000 galleons -_-) - but do not be sad, as you should be verrry excited by the upcoming Draco POV and the Auction AU.
Thanks again to all of you. And thanks for reading this incredibly long author's note.
"Miss Granger will not be able to finish her lesson today."
She swallowed.
"Oh," Monsieur DuBois pouted, looking back and forth between them. "I do hope everything is alright."
He turned his eyes on her, hot and aggressive. "I'm afraid not."
She took a shaky inhale, and began moving her napkin off her lap. Draco placed a handful of galleons on the table, apologizing to Monsieur DuBois, and promising to say hello to his mother.
As she stood from the table, gathering her notes, Draco's hand came up to guide her elbow around the gate, and onto the sidewalk. He waved a jaunty hand at the interior design teacher before escorting her in the direction of the nearest Apparition point.
They had eight blocks. There were storm clouds in the sky.
He dropped her elbow after the first block. She struggled to match his pace.
He started popping knuckles and cracking his neck after the second block, narrowly missing getting hit by a cab.
"Draco -"
"How long have you been plotting with my father."
She looked up at him as they stopped at a busy corner. His eyes were hot, scanning the streets, and darting around her.
"You say it like we're working together," she said.
"Aren't you?" He heaved a breath in. Then walked when the signal turned.
It took her a moment to comprehend. He left her on the curb, and she struggled to catch up.
"What did he tell you? If he defines it as anything other than blackmail then he lied to you –"
"You're not the only one who had a deal with him, Granger." She heard his voice shake. She watched him swallow as they darted around a group of children. "You shouldn't have gotten involved in this."
She skipped over a few curbs to catch up to him as he powered through the street.
"How did you find me there?" She tried sticking to the easy questions.
"I asked Madame Michele for your schedule."
She looked down at her quickly moving feet. He'd gone to Madame Michele first, disturbed her morning, and then tracked her down. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to calm him.
She heard him chuckle, and watched him shake his head at something running through his mind.
"You're done with those classes," he hissed.
She reached for him, but stopped herself. They were on the seventh block. One more before they could Apparate. The crowd thinned as the Muggle-Repelling Charm shivered over them.
"What about the money, Draco? The next three installments?"
"I told him to shove them up his ass," he snarled.
They approached a small alleyway before the end of the block. If she could get him to calm down before they Apparated...
"We need that money, Draco. Malfoy Consulting is barely afloat as it is. I need to keep going to those classes -"
"No!" He grabbed her elbow and brought her into the small alley, just shy of the Apparition point. The rest of the Muggles continued on with their day, pulling out umbrellas. He pointed a finger in her face. "You are not to step foot in that tea room again, do you hear me, Granger?"
His eyes were burning into her.
"The business is more important than some insane classes, Draco!"
He grabbed her shoulders, just firm enough to press her against the brick.
"Nothing is more important than you."
She lost her breath as he sucked in a shaky gasp. His fingers twitched on her shoulders and his eyes danced back and forth between her own.
And then he kissed her. Both hands up her neck to her face, tilting her head back for him as he stepped closer to her.
She was shaking as she brought her hands up to his sides. She let him dominate her mouth, taking time to breathe when she could, but his body pressed her against the alley wall and his hands held her still as he moved his lips against her.
She felt him slide one hand down her cheek, down her neck, across her ribs and grab her hip, as his mouth kissed her hotly on her jaw.
"Did he ever touch you?"
The harsh whisper crashed over her, and she opened her eyes. She focused on the packing crates and old boxes in the alley.
"N-no. Nothing like that." She felt a cold chill that Draco could even wonder…
Draco threaded his fingers through her hair and tugged until her neck was open to his mouth. His lips moved across her jaw, up to her ear.
"Have you been to see him since you went in November?"
The hand on her hips squeezed as his breath misted over her neck.
"No, we've written – He's written letters." She hummed. "Threats." Could she call it threats?
Draco attached to her neck and began sucking and biting on his favorite spot. She felt his hips press into hers and the hand on her hip start to slide. She saw Muggles walking by the alley entrance, completely unaware of them due to the repelling charm.
"Tell me about the letters. Tell me what he said to you."
Draco bit down on her neck a bit too hard. Claiming her. Marking her. Hermione winced and reached her hands up to his face.
"Draco, stop." She pulled his face back to look into his eyes. They were clouded, still hot but there was an aggression there she didn't recognize. "I know what you're doing, Draco, and stop." She rubbed her thumb across his cheek, calming him. "This… what we have is very special to me and you're turning it into something ugly."
She watched as he closed his eyes, pressed his forehead against hers and tried to relax. She was curious to know why Lucius affected him so much, but she was also scared to find out.
He placed a soft kiss on her lips and pulled back, lifting his hips away from her.
"What did my father say to you in Azkaban?"
She breathed in deeply, wishing to be talking about anything else. She heard thunder.
"He gave me a list of things. To work on."
She looked up at Draco, arms-length away from her, hands still resting lightly on her hips. He narrowed his eyes.
"For what?"
Oh, god. She felt the blush spreading up her jaw. "To be… to be seen with you. To be worthy of you." To be a Malfoy bride…
His frown deepened. "In November?" He looked to the side, thinking. "You weren't even with the company yet." His hands dropped from her hips and she felt like she could breathe again.
"Yes, but we were being pictured together so often. And… and he knew about the Auction."
She watched as Draco's eyes flipped to her. He wasn't surprised. He looked wary, if anything.
She continued, "He knew that you'd gone to Narcissa's mother. He knew that – that you would have saved me." This caught him off guard though. His left eye twitched. "He thought we were together. Had been for ages. I – I corrected him, of course," she said. She wanted to cross her arms, or pick at her nails, but she refrained. "But then later, he had photographs of… the Marcus Flint incident."
She looked up at him, afraid to bring that up, but he already knew that too. He wasn't surprised one bit that Lucius had photographs of them grabbing at each other in an alley way, not so different from the one they were currently in. She filed this away for later as a raindrop hit her cheek.
"He was disappointed that I'd lied to him about us." She sniffed. "And he said he wouldn't release your inheritance if I didn't go to those classes." She looked over his shoulder. She felt so small, admitting this weakness. Admitting to being blackmailed.
"What was on the list?" he grit out. His eyes were dark with anger, but she knew it wasn't directed at her this time.
She recited them. She found herself stuttering over some of them, the ones that were clearly meant for a wife, not a girlfriend, or whatever it was they were doing. Financially knowledgeable. Obedient. Skilled in hosting. Trained in décor. Her face flushed as he listened, watching her, unmoving.
"He said the only thing he could part with was pure-blood."
And Draco laughed. The sound shook her, and the sky thundered with him. He stepped away from her, chuckling, bringing his hands to rub his eyes. He turned his back to her and she saw his head shaking as he laughed. He took a shaky breath in.
"Why did you do this, Granger."
She stared at his back, still marveling over his reaction.
"I'll finish these next three weeks, Draco, and then you'll be done with him. You'll not owe him anything. You'll be rid of him."
"No, no." His voice bounced around the bricks and she saw him pull his hands across the skin of his face. "I'll never be rid of him." He turned to her. "He's got his hooks in you, now."
She shivered, unsure. "What do you mean?"
"I'd seen it, but I ignored it." He stepped back to her, eyes sad. "You're different. The way you drink your coffee is different. The way you walk. The way you dance." He placed his hand on her cheek. "You're changing. And now every time I see you lift your saucer with your cup, I'll think of him. Think of this. When you curtsey. When you shake hands." He brushed his thumb across her lip. She felt a tear drop leave her eyes. "Why did you do this."
She sniffed again, seeing the light rain drops hit the crates behind him. She wished she had the Gryffindor courage to tell him why, to tell him it was for him. So, she settled for the next best answer.
"It was the right thing to do."
They stared into each other's eyes, raindrops falling on their lashes. He pressed his lips against her forehead, kissing her eyebrow, her temple, her cheekbone. He made a path toward her lips.
And they kissed in the rain.
He escorted her to Cornerstone for the rest of her shift. She was ready to say goodbye to him at the door, but he followed her in, shaking the rain off the umbrella he'd transfigured.
Morty greeted him and they chatted briefly as she got behind the register again. When Morty bid them a good afternoon and headed upstairs, Draco stayed.
He browsed the books and watched her help customers. He eyed the hag warily, but he mainly stayed out of her way.
By four o'clock as the people who had waited out the storm by staying inside the bookstore were just starting to leave, she was far more aware of his eyes on her. She filed books, passing his chair and feeling him watch her. She'd look over at him though, and find him reading, eyes on his book. She'd make notes in the ledger book and feel the hair on her arm bristle.
By five o'clock he wasn't even reading anymore. There were only two other people in the shop, most people put off by the bad weather, and he sat in his chair and watched her move about the shop. She'd look over at him, as if to catch him, and he just stared back at her. It started to make her warm.
At fifteen minutes to closing, the last of the shoppers were making their final purchases, and he came to lean against the stacks near the counter. His eyes were dark whenever she looked over at him. She stumbled through the last transactions, and once the last shopper had waved goodbye, she pointed her wand at the Open sign, turning it to Closed.
She swallowed, and looked over at him. He leaned his left hip against the book stacks, legs crossed at the ankle. He had his arms crossed over his chest, one hand at his chin, thumb against his lips. She watched his lips part and his thumb dipped inside.
She took a deep, steadying breath, and tried not to lick her lips.
"We're closed for today, Mr. Malfoy," she said. "Is there anything I can put on hold for you, for tomorrow?" She bit back a grin as he lifted a brow at her.
He prowled toward the counter.
"Are you quite sure there's nothing on reserve for me back there?" He tipped his head to the side as he leaned forward on his elbows in front of her.
She smiled at him. "I can check." She turned around, knowing full well that the reserve shelf was empty. She bit her lip, hoping she was doing something slightly attractive, and bent at the waist, bringing her head down to the shelf, and straightening her back to push out her denim clad backside. She braced her hands on the counter.
"Hm. Nothing here for you." She turned her head to look at him, a grin on her face.
His eyes were hot. And they were glued to her. More specifically, to her behind.
His gaze flipped to her eyes, and he smirked. "Mind if I take a look?"
She pressed her lips together, and nodded. "Be my guest." She turned back to the shelf, keeping her hands pressed against the counter, her hips pushing out, and her spine straight and long. She heard him coming around the counter. He slipped behind her, brushing his hips against her backside. She bit her lip too keep from making a sound.
"How strange," he said. She saw his larger hand rest next to hers on the counter. She felt the other rest on her ribs as he leaned down over her, pressing his chest against her back. He placed his face next to hers. "I could have sworn something back here was mine."
She let out a short laugh, and then pressed back against him, feeling his hips just behind her. The hand on her ribs, skirted up and pressed firmly against her breast over her shirt.
She knew the sign said Closed. She knew that Morty rarely came downstairs to check on her after six. And she knew that the foot traffic at this time of day was light. And it was all warming her blood.
His fingers tweaked her through her bra, and she gasped. He pressed firmly against her backside, and she could feel him hard against her.
"I think we could find what you're looking for in the non-fiction section," she whispered, turning to look at him as his lips were about to start in on her neck.
He grinned. "The customer service here is impeccable."
On Sunday morning, Hermione had written to Madame Bernard to letting her know that she needed to reschedule the hosting class she usually had with her on Sundays. She made sure to use the word "reschedule" and not "discontinue." Also on Sunday, the announcement of Harry and Ginny's engagement was in the papers as well. Hermione had convinced Ginny to let Harry propose at dinner on Valentine's Day, and she hadn't seen much of the two of them since.
Harry had been rather proactive with Skeeter. He contacted her to set up an interview on Saturday for Sunday's paper, to prevent any tabloid responses. It had resulted in a lovely, in-depth article about the two of them (and a bit about the history of the Boy-Who-Lived-And-Died-And-Lived-Again).
Hermione smiled down at the article at Cornerstone on Sunday.
She smiled for many reasons that day, one of which was the book on reserve behind the counter that had been there when she'd opened up. Draco must have written to Morty early this morning to have the book on reserve for him, and while the two of them had made no plans to see each other today after parting the night before, she was giddy thinking of him coming by again.
She was still grinning at the counter as a customer left and the door admitted Narcissa Malfoy.
Hermione blinked at her – long royal blue robes, hanging off of her like water, delicate fingers letting the door close behind her. She looked up at Hermione, and smiled.
It was like a piece of Hermione's soul had been out of alignment for months, and it had just clicked back into place.
"Hermione, my dear," Narcissa said from the doorway. Her eyes sparkled as she ascended the steps and arrived at the counter.
"Hello, Narcissa." Hermione couldn't clear the smile off her face. She had the sudden thought that Narcissa had no idea that Hermione had been shagging her son senseless for the past week, and she hoped she wouldn't mind terribly.
"It's wonderful to see you." Narcissa floated to the counter and settled a knowing stare on her.
Perhaps thinking about shagging Draco right now was not the best idea.
"Are you here for the book on reserve?" Hermione turned away from Lady Malfoy and tried to shake her head clear of the image of Draco above her.
"Yes, thank you, dear," Narcissa said. "And of course, to visit with you, as long as the shop stays relatively calm."
Hermione turned back, holding the reserve bag, and found Narcissa's kind eyes on her. And Hermione wondered if she knew about the classes. If Draco had told her.
"Of course. How have you been?"
"Quite well, thank you," Narcissa said, and Hermione studied the quirk of her lips and considered if Narcissa used the makeup brands that Pansy used on her. "I saw the pictures from the governor's ball last weekend. You looked magnificent."
Hermione focused on keeping any blush off of her cheeks as she responded, "Thank you. I was happy to be representing Malfoy Consulting with Draco that night. We made some wonderful connections."
"You know, Hermione, dear," Narcissa began, and Hermione felt her heart leap at all the different possible directions this could go. "You must be done with those books that you borrowed in the fall."
Hermione looked at her, eyes wide and frozen. The books that should have been returned in December. The books that should have been owled back to Narcissa the moment she fled from Malfoy Manor after the visit to Azkaban. She was done with the books. And it was completely inappropriate for her to still have them in her possession. It was improper.
"I – yes, I have actually finished with them." Hermione could feel the heat fighting its way up her neck. "I apologize for holding onto them for so long." She looked down at the counter. "I will owl them back to you this evening –"
"Oh, no rush, dear."
Hermione looked up and Narcissa waved the air with her hand.
She continued, "I was thinking you could come by this Saturday and exchange them for others." Narcissa tilted her head at her, and her long blonde hair fell down her shoulder.
Hermione realized her mouth was still open, so she closed it.
"If you have the time, I could have dinner prepared as well." Narcissa flashed her teeth. "I know Mippy would love to see you again."
Hermione stared at her. She collected herself and responded, "Yes, that's… that's so kind of you, Narcissa. I would love to come for dinner this Saturday."
"Good." Narcissa grinned. "Then it's settled."
Hermione blinked several times before realizing that she was still holding the bag with Narcissa's book, and quickly jotted the notes in the ledger, feeling Narcissa's eyes on her.
"I'm so glad you're reading this author," Hermione said, attempting small talk. "Percival Hawk is truly coming into his own. Have you read his earlier work as well?"
Hermione looked up and Narcissa was watching her hands move over the ledger book.
"Yes, I have. I have always been a fan of his."
"I like this new one a lot," Hermione said as she placed it back in the bag. "He's improved so much as a writer. I know he's really been trying to better himself, studying quite a bit from his contemporaries and taking classes at the Muggle universities. I think it shows."
"That's lovely to hear," Narcissa said. She reached for the bag. "But Mr. Hawk had a lovely following before he tried changing himself." Narcissa raised a brow at her. "I know I always liked him, even without the… classes."
Hermione blinked as Narcissa nodded her head in goodbye, hiding a secret on her lips.
So she did hear about the lessons.
"NARCISSA MALFOY FILES FOR DIVORCE"
By Rita Skeeter
Narcissa Malfoy (née Black) will be Malfoy no longer. A very uncommon thing to do in pure-blood marriages, the youngest Black sister filed for divorce Monday morning.
Ms. Narcissa Black was not available for comment, but the paperwork filed in the Wizengamot cited "irreconcilable differences" with her soon-to-be ex-husband. Lucius Malfoy was convicted in 1998 for his support of You-Know-Who during the Second Wizarding War.
Azkaban visitor records show that Narcissa has visited her husband on his monthly visitations consistently for the past two years, until their son Draco was released from Azkaban, taking her place as the primary visitor. Records show that the last time Narcissa Black visited Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban was December 1, 1999.
Who's to say how this came about, or if Ms. Black's decision was caused by a specific incident. Stick with this reporter, and I'm positive we can get down to the bottom of this together.
Hermione couldn't believe the words on the page. She couldn't decide if she was more shocked at Narcissa, or shocked at Skeeter for publishing such an article.
She filed away the information that Rita had been able to procure the visitor records from Azkaban, and therefore knew that Hermione had visited Lucius in November. She'd have to consider that later.
No, what she truly couldn't wrap her brain around was a pure-blood witch of such social standing filing for divorce.
She wondered what the pre-nuptial agreements were like in the wizarding world, if any, and hoped Narcissa had financial stability moving forward.
Hermione finished sipping her morning coffee, checked her shoddy makeup work in the mirror one last time before heading to the office.
As she stood in the elevator heading to Malfoy Consulting Group, she wondered how Draco was taking it. From what she understood of their messy family relationship, there would be no tears shed most likely. But it still must feel like the end of something.
The elevator doors opened and Draco stood at the reception desk, coffee cup in hand.
He winked at her.
And she suddenly remembered she was shagging this man. She blushed in a particularly telling way and stepped off the lift, taking the offered coffee cup and whispering a "Good morning."
"Senior staff meeting at ten, then we should meet this afternoon about the Golden Snidget campaign." Draco walked her to her office door like normal. "After our lunch, of course."
She looked up at him, and his bedroom eyes in the middle of the office floor made her feel reckless. So, they would be having "lunch" again this week.
"Lunch," she said. "Yes." Hermione looked over his shoulder and found Walter busy with a file. "And what were you planning to order today?"
His lips twitched. "I have a few ideas," he said. "But I'm open to suggestions." His eyes flashed at her, and she looked down at the carpets to keep from devouring him.
He pivoted away from her, but before he could get more than a few steps, she called out, "Er, Draco?" When he looked back to her, she nodded her head towards her office and stepped just inside the door. He joined her in the doorway, leaning against it. She lowered her voice.
"I, er… I saw the papers this morning. I just wanted to make sure you were… alright."
He gave her an even look, lifting a brow, and said, "Excellent."
"Yes, good," she stammered. "Just wanted to… make sure… I mean, I do know that sometimes these situations can feel difficult, so I just…" She trailed off, checking his face for any kind of reaction.
"On the contrary," he said. "It was probably one of the easiest decisions my mother has ever made."
"Good, excellent." She looked down. "I… I'm very happy for her. And you." She grinned at him and he grinned back. "I am shocked at Skeeter's gall though. It's quite private business, even if it is excellent gossip. I do feel sorry for your mother."
"Don't," he said, shrugging and looking briefly at the door frame. "She was the one to give Skeeter the heads up."
Hermione could feel her mouth opening and closing. "Oh," she finally got out. "I thought it said your mother wasn't available for comment."
"Yes," Draco said, lifting himself off the door frame. "That was my mother's one condition. That she not be available for comment." He gave her a secret grin and left her standing in her office, wondering at the chess game Narcissa had set up.
Thirty minutes later, Hermione headed to the conference room for the senior staff meeting. When she got there, she was shocked to see a new face at the table, before remembering that Cornelia Waterstone started today in the Wizengamot Relations position. She was sitting at the end of the table, in the seat that had remained empty since the beginning. When Hermione walked in, the woman turned a no-nonsense look on her, and gave the slightest grin.
"Miss Granger, yes?" Cornelia Waterstone stood and shook her hand. "It's a pleasure to see you again."
"Likewise, Ms. Waterstone. We're very glad to have you here at Malfoy Consulting." Hermione felt very studied, under Waterstone's eyes. "I'm looking forward to working with you on the upcoming Werewolf Policy case."
"Yes, I've already gathered some information on that, profiles for the Wizengamot members and their feelings regarding the werewolf community. We should discuss sooner than later."
This woman's face had not moved once except for her mouth. Even that was so thin and tight that it hardly moved as she spoke.
Hermione grinned at her and took her seat as the rest of the team came in behind her.
Draco welcomed Cornelia, and gave her an opportunity to introduce herself to the staff. Blaise looked very put out the whole time she spoke. After everyone had given an update on their current projects, Draco stood and cleared his throat.
"I've said from the beginning that I do not wish to be cagey about our finances. We've had a bit of a change that I want you all to be aware of." Draco looked down at the table quickly and Hermione felt a like stone dropped in her stomach. "Our weekly income that was to last us another three weeks has been cut off early. I will be doing everything I can to renegotiate the contract between this investor, or to recruit a new investor to offset some of the strain, but you should know that Melody's assistant Ranji and several other temporary positions have been put on hold for the next few weeks."
Wentworth sighed. Mockridge tutted. Waterstone frowned. And Blaise narrowed his eyes at Draco.
"And what happened to that investor, if I may ask?" Blaise said.
"The terms of our arrangement were unsuitable." Draco looked Blaise directly in the eye, with a stare conveying the end of the discussion.
Hermione felt her heart drumming against her ribcage. She stared at the woodgrain on the table. She knew she should have gone to the hosting class yesterday. This was a mistake. No matter what Draco said, these classes were necessary.
Whatever was going through her mind must have been displayed openly across her face, because when she looked up from the table, Blaise was watching her, one brow lifted.
She looked away and quickly refocused on Draco, who was detailing the needs for the next few weeks in light of their financial burden.
Mockridge cut in and said, "I thought you had mentioned that these weekly installments were safe. They were promised without conditions."
Draco swallowed and met Mockridge's eyes. "There were conditions after all."
Mockridge tutted again. "So, what is your plan, as we approach pay day at the end of this month?"
Hermione felt her stomach twisting. She tried to tune out the contingency plans they needed to place and looked up at anything else around the room. Her eyes landed on Cornelia Waterstone, whose first day was met with this conversation. Hermione realized that Waterstone's salary for February was a new expense to be paid. If they had known about the inheritance, Waterstone wouldn't have been hired until March.
This was out of control. She felt a pressure behind her eyes, frustrating her. She would need to talk to Draco, and continue with the classes.
When the meeting was done, and everyone's moods had spiraled downwards, Hermione stayed at the table as everyone stood and rushed back to their desks, tasked with finding ways to cut corners and possibly generate a bit more revenue over the next three weeks. She tapped her quill against the parchment, watching the blots form. Draco was still at the head of the table, pretending to gather his notes.
"Granger."
"This isn't fair. Not to those who've lost their jobs." She bit the inside of her cheek.
"They haven't been fired, Granger. Their hours have been cut."
She began stacking her notes, and stood to leave. "We can push back the Golden Snidget project. And I'll look for ways to cut corners on the Werewolf budget so we can reallocate those funds –"
"We can't reallocate those funds. The donations were given with a specific understanding of what the funds would be used for."
"So mine is the only department that isn't going through budget cuts?" She flung her arms out to the sides. "How is that fair."
"Yours is the only department fully funded by fundraising, not by the inheritance." He walked around the edge of the table to stand in front of her. The door was still open, but she wanted him to touch her. Like they were partners, lovers. Like they comforted each other.
She squeezed the papers in her hands.
An idea came to her. "But the salary for my department members is paid by the inheritance. Walter and me," she said. He narrowed his eyes at her. "You can cut my salary. Practically in half, really."
"No, Granger. We aren't cutting your salary." He almost rolled his eyes at her, stepping back to push his chair in and take his notes.
"No, truly. The amount of money I make here is obscene. For February's pay, you can cut my salary, or even take all of it," she whispered. "No one needs to know." She watched as he pressed his lips together, readying his argument. "Besides, with Pansy covering the costs of my wardrobe and without the classes burning a hole in my pocket, I'll have very few expenses."
His hands stopped moving through his paperwork. His jaw clicked. He looked up at her. "The expense for the classes was placed upon you?"
She saw the same fire in his eyes from the alley on Saturday.
"I wouldn't let him cover it. I refused his money." She blinked up at him. He moved his eyes across the table, thinking, planning his father's death, probably. She touched his elbow to bring him back. "Draco, just for February. Cut my salary. The only person who will notice is Dorothea and I'm sure she won't say anything."
"No. That's not how we're going deal with this, Granger. I got us all into this mess, so let me get us out." His jaw tightened and he looked at her before heading to the door.
As he left, she wondered how in Merlin's name he was the one who got them into this mess. She looked down at her blotted parchment.
One thing was for sure. She was going to Madame Michele's tomorrow night. Draco could deal with it.
Cornelia Waterstone ended up crashing Draco and her "lunch" date. And not in the fun way.
Cornelia had seen on the office calendar that Hermione and Draco spent some time before lunch discussing her cases on a daily basis, and had decided to join them to get caught up to speed on the Werewolf Policy.
This meant that Hermione had to go grab her notes for the Werewolf Policy, as she originally had no intention of doing anything but wrapping her legs around Draco's hips in this "lunch" meeting.
When she returned, Draco and Cornelia were already in deep conversation about the Wizengamot members themselves, and Cornelia's plans to connect with each of them regarding the upcoming proposal.
When Draco's secretary (Carrie – the name was Carrie) interrupted at 12:30 to ask about Draco's lunch order, he very politely invited Cornelia to join them, but Hermione could see the tightness in his lips, the hope that she would decline.
"Oh, thank you, sir. But I have a friend down the street that I have scheduled to get lunch with." Cornelia left with a curt nod, and after Carrie took their order, and shut the door behind herself and Cornelia, Draco silenced the room and waved his hand to send everything on his desk flying onto the floor.
"Get on the desk."
He was halfway out of his shirt when her brain caught up.
"Draco, we only have maybe fifteen minutes before Carrie brings back the lunch—!"
"Is that a challenge, Granger." He raised a brow at her as he started on his belt. "Don't think I can get you off in fifteen minutes?" His eyes were hot on hers.
She blinked at him, feeling her blood warm. He was halfway undressed already.
"Well, definitely not twice." She raised a brow back. And smirked.
He narrowed his eyes at her. And tossed her on the desk.
Sixteen minutes later, Draco and Hermione were sitting on the couch again, eating their sandwich and salad.
He asked her a few questions about the Werewolf Policy, she assumed so that they could count this as working.
She brought up a few points for the Golden Snidget project, and offered again to stall it due to the financial situation.
"As long as it is fundraised, there's no need to stall it."
She nodded, then said, "I'm meeting with Viktor on Wednesday." She swirled her lettuce around the carton. "We're going to lunch and I'll pitch the Golden Snidget campaign. Hopefully once he's on board we can get Skeeter and Mr. Lovegood to cover the project." She stabbed a tomato and brought it to her lips. "Does the magazine 'Seeker Weekly' do articles? Or just talk Quidditch rubbish?"
She looked over at him, and he was watching her. He smiled. "Yes, they have articles."
"Oh, good. We can see if they'll do one too." She popped the tomato in her mouth and munched happily.
He finished chewing his sandwich, and said, "Good news that Krum wants to be involved."
"Yes, he was very interested at the governor's ball." She aimed her fork at another tomato when she heard Draco chuckle.
"Mm-hmm. I'm sure he was," he sang. He looked over at her with suggestive eyes.
She frowned at him. "No, not like that."
"I'm sure just like that." Draco raised a brow as he crumbled his sandwich wrapper. "You can't honestly believe he's interested in the Golden Snidgets' welfare."
"He is." She felt her shoulders tense. "He is very interested in the Golden Snidgets, and I'll prove it to you when I come back from lunch with his full support." She stuck her nose in the air.
"Sure, Granger. Try wearing a burlap sack this time instead, and we'll see where his true interests lie."
She glared at him. He smirked back.
She turned back to her salad he said, "I hear you're having dinner with my mother on Saturday."
She glanced up at him. "Yes, that's right." She speared a crouton and asked, "Will you be there?"
Quick as a curse he grabbed the crouton off her fork and popped it in his mouth. She glared at him. "Possibly." He crunched and winked at her.
She glared as she picked the last crouton and tossed it in her mouth. She was just closing the carton and placing it in the plastic bag for their trash when he spoke.
"Would you consider staying the night? After dinner?"
She looked up at him from her bent over position over their trash bag. He stared at her, pressing his lips together.
"At the Manor?" She sat up, blinking at him. He nodded. "In your room?"
"Or Mippy's room. Wherever you feel most at home," he deadpanned.
"Would… would your mother be alright with that? Isn't it… improper?" She laughed tightly.
Draco shrugged. "She doesn't have to know." He leaned across the couch cushion to whisper in her ear. "We'd have an entire wing of the Manor to ourselves." He kissed her ear. Then her jaw. Then her lips. "And if she catches, us I'll just tell her to have breakfast prepared in the morning too."
He kissed her lips lightly again. She smiled. "Alright. Yes." She bit her lip, then added, "But do tell Mippy that I sleep on the right side of the bed."
He bit back a grin. "I'll make sure she accommodates you." Before she could even begin to fathom what spending the night in Draco's room would entail, he continued, "Also, I'll be out of town on Friday. Personal trip." He shifted on the couch, facing forward while she had her body turned to him.
"Oh." That's all she could think of to say. "Are you going back to New York?"
His eyes flipped up to hers, then away. "No."
She nodded, like he'd said something she'd understood. She bit the inside of her cheek before mustering her bravery.
"What was in New York?"
She watched him clench his jaw. He'd come back tense, and aggressive, and non-communicative, and she, for some reason, wanted to push his buttons on this issue.
"New York was a mistake."
She regretted ever bringing this up. She felt like whatever he was about to say, was going to be ten times worse than not knowing.
Draco stared at his hands, then finally took a breath. "There's a woman there." His jaw clicked.
Hermione felt like a hot spike had been shoved inside her chest. Her very active imagination began picturing Draco in all sorts of positions with a faceless American girl. Large breasts, small waist, blonde beach hair. She heard him take another deep breath beside her, readying himself to spill his secrets, and she almost stopped him, wanting to hear no more.
"She's a Legilimens."
Her head whipped to face him. A sexy Legilimens?
"I needed… I thought I needed her assistance." Draco swallowed, picking at the crumbs of his sandwich.
"Assistance with what?" she whispered, afraid she would break this spell of honesty he was under.
Draco took a breath, sliding his palms over his knees, readying himself to speak.
"I'm a very skilled Occlumens. Between Aunt Bella and Severus… I had some remarkable teachers." Draco scratched his jaw, keeping his eyes on his carpet. "I've been compartmentalizing for years. Separating memories, thoughts, emotions…" He paused, like he wanted to add something else to that list. Hermione couldn't look away from his face.
She thought of him in her childhood bedroom, a deep breath in and then a blank stare. Him at his fireplace, as she screamed behind him, his mother's hand on his own. A deep breath in and then a blank stare.
She'd known it was Occlumency, but she hadn't known how deep it ran. He continued.
"Severus used to help me. Used to poke around until I'd regrouped. Until there were resilient walls again…"
Again, it felt like there was more. But Hermione was afraid to move. Afraid he would stop.
"But without him…" He swallowed. "Before going to New York, I had been slipping. For months. I couldn't get the walls in place. Couldn't separate." He moved his hands over his knees again. "Blaise has tried to help, but he's shit at Legilimency." Draco chuckled, and the sound grated at her, so nervous and unnatural.
"I thought I needed someone to … test me. To poke around until it was all regrouped." He ran a hand through his hair. "So, I got in touch with someone in New York who is one of the greatest Legilimens of our time. I offered to pay her handsomely to meet with me, and set up a portkey that night."
Hermione was no longer afraid of a buxom blonde who had had Draco's body. Now she was considering someone who had access to his mind, his secrets, the hidden places she wished he'd share with her. The pain in her ribs choked her.
"Is that…" She cleared her throat. "Is that something she does for a living? Is there a profession in that?"
"No, no." Draco shook his head, still looking down at the carpet. "She refused my money. Refused to meet with me, really." He chuckled again. "I had to beg her. She's a normal witch. A widow."
Widow. Hermione didn't want to know much more about this woman, but she was secretly glad there wasn't some twenty-five-year-old, small-waisted, large-breasted blonde in the states who knew every one of Draco Malfoy's secrets.
"Did it help?" she asked. "Did you get what you wanted?"
She thought of the dinner with Mr. Townsend. How cold he'd been and how removed he'd been from her afterwards.
A small, sad smile ran across his lips. "No." He turned to look at her. Finally. "I kissed you again, didn't I?"
Hermione swallowed, watching him, reading him. His eyes were kind, but he was rotting her from the inside.
She tried to match him and smiled sadly back. "Actually, I kissed you."
He smirked, and it was like Draco had returned. "Yes, you went and ruined everything, didn't you." He lifted his hands from their place on his knees and brought them to her face. He leaned in to kiss her and mumbled against her lips, "Thank Merlin she didn't let me pay her. What a waste that would have been."
She smiled against his lips as he kissed her. He pressed his tongue against hers and she let him consume her slowly, but she was screaming from the inside. She needed to ask him now, before the moment vanished.
He pulled away to tilt his mouth against hers again, and she brought her hands to his, pausing.
He opened his eyes to look at her, and she saw the boy who had stared open-mouthed at her bedroom, checking every corner with his eyes before they filled with tears and he collapsed over. She heard the gasp as his aunt electrocuted her, and she heard his mother's voice – "What would Severus say" – as he caught his breath and pressed his eyelids closed. She saw the grey eyes that glared at her in the courtroom, that stared deadly at her his first visit to Cornerstone, that asked her how long she had been dating Aiden.
"Did you go to New York to forget about me?" she asked.
He looked back and forth between her eyes, and brushed his thumb across her lips.
"No," he said. "To put you back in your box."