The Uneventful Story
By: Snowflake Imp
Rated: NC-17
Chapter 14
Disclaimer: Wait, I've got it – why don't I just say I DON'T own Harry Potter, and then people can NOT pay me for this story?? WOW, that's so genius! It so like, totally works in MY favor!
Warning: I know I wrote for most chapters that it was NC-17, but I thought of the warnings as for the WHOLE story, not the individual chapters. So while Chapter 1 could be rated maybe a PG-13 or even a PG, this chapter is DEFINITELY NC-17.
You have been warned.
Hermione couldn't speak. If she were able to move, she would have been positively shaking.
Blaise swept his eyes down her body, a bulge in her coat pocket catching his attention. Without hesitation or attention to personal space, he reached into her pocket and removed a rather large jewelry box. He clucked his disapproval with a smirk.
"Now now, don't tell me you were actually considering giving this back to me? Not when it looks so delicious on you?" he asked playfully, tucking the box back into her pocket.
Hermione managed to stutter, trying to explain her actions. "I-I didn't mean to….I just thought that … – "
"No, you keep it," he said firmly, brushing back a few stray hair that blew across her face.
"Just….didn't think it was proper…we're….you know…," she muttered, looking away. She couldn't look at him anymore.
"Proper?" Blaise repeated, his tone amused yet obviously astonished. "Proper?"
Hermione blushed, not liking where this was going. Her heart was hammering into her chest. She could barely hear him.
"If you wish to discuss proper, my dear," he said, putting emphasis on the word like it was a joke, "then you should include neither me nor you in that same sentence."
"I…I don't understand," she said miserably, wringing her hands together.
"No, of course you wouldn't," he cooed sympathetically. He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath hot against her face. His breath smelled of the Ceylon tea they drank an hour ago.
"Don't worry, I'm sure it will all come back to you," he whispered, his soft lips brushing against hers teasingly. "And when it does, I will find you. And we will finished what we started."
She was afraid to breathe.
Suddenly the very image of a friendly face, he backed away but not before taking one of her hands and kissing it softly. After releasing her, he opened the door to his carriage and began to step in. Before he closed the door, however, he turned to look down at her. His smile was positively sinful, his eyes blazing. He gave a small laugh.
"I say that, but know that I can only wait so long," he said as his parting words. "Ciao, bella."
Even after he was long gone, Hermione stood there in the middle of the road, unable to comprehend even a word of what had just transpired.
Draco wondered if it was Friday already. It felt odd, not being at the Ministry during working hours, but this was too important to put off. He hadn't much time left, he knew. If he didn't do this now, who knew what might happen.
Blaise was right, it had been a long time since he had last been to his estate. The place looked completely different. Sure, the mansion was still the traditional white-cream marble with light green trimmings, but the surrounding garden had been completely revamped. Before, the garden was very standard, very English with the red roses, stone fountains and neatly pebbled paths. But now that Blaise's mother had been widowed, again, for the ninth time (under innocent circumstances, he was sure), she was free to decorate however she pleased for the time being.
Tropical flowers flown in from exotic locations engulfed the front garden, becoming a beautiful, lush forest in which to travel through to get to the main entrance. Draco swore there was a charm cast to make the surrounding temperature humid. Once he reached the grandiose main doors, he knocked briskly three times.
A comely young maid opened the door shyly, her head bowed. "Good afternoon, Lord Malfoy. Of what service could I be for you today?"
Draco had to hold back a laugh. Though the girl spoke modestly, he could hear the implicit undertones in her speech. Every living creature in this household reeked of it. He remembered as a young boy how excited he was to hear such tones coming from the countless members living in the house. Now, it was almost pitiful. Almost disgusting.
"Is Blaise in?" he asked simply.
She nodded. "Yes milord. But I'm afraid my master is rather…indisposed at the moment. Perhaps later…?"
"That's all right. It's rather urgent," he said leaning in, using one arm against the door to prop himself. He towered over her by at least a head.
The maid blushed and stuttered. She must have been newly acquired. "I'm not sure if the master would approve….,"
"Don't worry," he said winningly, oozing of charm. She looked up at him and smiled hesitantly. "I drop by all the time." He flashed her a smile, showing all of his pearly teeth.
"Well…if you insist…" she said softly, bowing and backing away so that he could enter. Without a backwards glance, he ascended casually up the stairs, knowing his way around like the back of his hand. After all, in the past this house was practically his own.
After walking through the long hallway on the second floor, he reached the last room to the right. The moans and grunts and thuds he heard faintly from down the hall were quite loud now that he was in front of the door. Draco had a suspicion the walls were thin on purpose – voyeurs and degenerates, the lot of them. He knocked sharply twice and then opened the door without waiting for a response.
Draco had to school his face so as to not give away anything. Ye gods, it was just as he had imagined.
Blaise, surprised at the intrusion, sat up abruptly, his muscles tensed. When he realized who it was, he relaxed with sigh, flopping back down onto the bed.
"Oh, it's only you," he murmured, turning back to the longhaired brunette who had been sucking on his thick member. He caressed her hair, letting her know he wanted her to continue. "Shut the door, would you?"
Draco obediently obliged. He leaned against it and crossed his arms, taking in the sight before him. Blaise was currently entertaining two brunette sisters, twins by the look of it, on top of his massive, feather-down bed. Completely in the nude, the three seemed to have been at it for quite some time.
Blaise groaned, unabashed that they had a visitor. In fact, he seemed to relish it. He turned his head to look at his best mate, a light sheen of sweat gracing his brow. "I was wondering…when you would show up," he said a bit breathlessly.
His eyes swept across the room, observing that while one of the girls was kneeling between Blaise's parted legs and licking with abandon, the other girl appeared to be just watching the two, her legs spread apart, her fingers pleasuring herself. The partner-less one, the girl with shorter brown hair, moaned when she saw that a new person had arrived. She shifted so that she faced Draco completely, fondling her breasts a little more for show. The other girl with hair down to her waist, at the moment deep throating and humming around Blaise's shaft, every once in awhile locked her gaze onto Draco, her eyes burning with lust.
"Not today Blaise," Draco said easily, looking not at all affected by the scene before him.
"Then what?" Blaise grunted, picking up the girl and impaling her on his shaft. She moaned loudly while her sister cooed and scooted up, her fingers furiously circling her clit. The long-haired sister began bouncing up and down slowly, her ample breasts bouncing. In addition to his penis slathered and slippery with her saliva, she was also already slick with arousal; every time she descended, a very wicked squelching noise was to be heard. Draco didn't even flinch. Blaise had to admire his steel resolve; a lesser man would have been fully aroused and panting by now, if not already in the bed. Draco looked like he was just taking a walk in the park.
"I'm here to discuss Hermione Granger, actually," he replied, keeping his face neutral.
At the sound of her name, Blaise's face darkened with depraved delight. He grabbed the girl on top of him and quickly, forcefully, flipped her over. She squealed with delight, elated that he was finally going to take the lead. He turned her over so that she was on her stomach and gathered her around her waist, making her delicious rear stick up in the air. Without warning, he plunged his hot, thick member back into her folds and gripped her waist hard, pulling her in with every thrust so that he could get even deeper inside her. Her equally aroused sister, who was now thrusting three fingers into her opening and slapping her breasts in hopes of finding release, joined in the girl's cries of pleasure.
Draco noticed that up until he mentioned her name, Blaise seemed content at a leisurely dalliance with the girls doing all the work, but now he seemed very worked up, like he needed a release badly. "What….about her?" he panted out harshly, grinning like mad as he pumped into the unresisting girl.
He shrugged. "I have to admit, I didn't think you'd hold out this long."
Blaise barked out a laugh, plunging into the girl faster, their sweaty skin slapping together. "If I want it bad enough….hah….hah…..I can wait for quite..a …long….time," he said, short of breath. Draco watched his childhood friend thrust in and out of the girl who was now babbling with mad delight. It was somewhat hypnotic, Blaise's rhythm.
The shorthaired girl appeared unsuccessful at reaching her climax, her breaths short and disjointed. With a cry of frustration, she crawled up to where her sister's head was and spread her legs wide. She grabbed her head, which was pressed closely to the mattress, and slipped her sopping opening underneath. Her sister moaned at both the treat in front of her and at Blaise's member drumming into in, her breasts swaying from the force.
She immediately buried her face into her sister's crotch, slurping and licking and sucking everything her hot mouth could find. Her sister threw her head back and moaned loudly, pressing her sister's head firmly between her legs, knotting her fingers into her long hair.
"Yeesss…!" she moaned, thrusting her hips up and down when her sister began voraciously sucking her clit. Her movements were so vulgar, she knew, without an ounce of dignity or grace. Just the way she knew he liked it.
"Oooh, that's it luv," Blaise whispered, encouraging the erotic site in front of him. He slammed into her harder, relishing that her moans were muffled by her sister's mound. He slapped her supple buttocks a few times and then gripped her waist tighter, his fingers digging into her flesh. He turned to Draco for a moment, his amber eyes blazing with suggestion. Draco could still join them, if he'd like. Blaise was never the possessive type; he was always open for sharing.
Draco held his gaze but was unmovable, like stone. "I'm dying for a fag, you have any around?" he asked instead.
Blaise jerked his head to the dresser next to him before returning his concentration to the task at hand. Draco walked over, his heavy shoes gently thudding across the wooden floor, barely noticeable amongst the cries of wanton passion on the bed. He leaned against the wall and crossed his legs as he opened up the tasteful silver etched cigarette holder and picked up a silver lighter.
The taste of tobacco filled his lungs – a taste he hadn't had for a long time. He exhaled, expelling out the noxious fumes. He held that cigarette like an old pro.
"Thought….you quit…," Blaise roughly observed, his body now positively slick with sweat.
"Merely temporarily stopped," he drawled, tapping it expertly to shake off the ashes.
"You can have the whole thing if you like," Blaise breathed.
"Aaah! I'm so…I'm so close!" the shorthaired brunette cried, thrashing about. "Please!!"
Her sister obeyed and noisily slobbered all over her clit, thrusting two fingers into her passage to the same rhythm Blaise had taken up. A few moments later, the girl screamed with ecstasy, riding her long awaited orgasm. Her juices slowly trickled out of her opening, dribbling onto the pristine sheets. The other moaned, sloppily sucking on the two fingers she recently had in her sister, not caring that her chin was slathered with her juices.
"Please master, make me cum too!" she pleaded, her voice deep and throaty with need. Draco had nearly forgotten that in this household, the men were always called master. Back then it had been such a rush to hear.
Blaise, usually a tease when it came to this sort of thing, surprisingly obliged, most likely because he wanted to get off as much as she did. His thrusts became harder and sloppier. He pushed her shoulders down, bringing her rear up higher, nearly banging into her vertically.
"Yes….YES!! Oh gods, YES!" the girl cried, finally making it over the edge, tears streaming down her face from her release.
Draco watched them silently, doing nothing but inhaling and exhaling the smoke. Their every move was reflected against his dispassionate gray eyes.
Blaise threw his head back and thrust into her a few more times. "Merda," he hissed, releasing his milky seed into her channel. He quickly slipped out her and stroked his still engorged member, squirting out streams of semen onto her smooth back and hair.
Still in a euphoric state, the girl did not seem to mind at all. She merely sighed contentedly, wiping some of his semen with her fingers. She brought it up to her mouth and licked it a little, giggling. Her sister took her hand and lapped up the remaining wetness, her eyes sated. She reached over and wiped some more of his seed onto her own hand; without taking her eyes off him, she slowly, deliberately rubbed the sticky fluid all around her breasts and nipples. He chuckled. The two girls sighed, flopping onto the mattress and rolled over slightly. Finally drained, their eyelids began to flutter. They had been at it for over an hour, so maybe a small nap was in order.
Draco's eyes followed Blaise as he walked past, unashamed of his nakedness, into the bathroom to clean up a little. By the time he heard Blaise turn off the faucet, he had already finished his cigarette.
"You said you were here about Hermione?" Blaise asked, his voice still rough from sex. He joined Draco and lit a cigarette of his own.
"I was hoping you could indulge me a little," Draco said.
"Oh? How so?" he raised an eyebrow.
"I need a little time, Blaise. Promise me you'll stay away until I've finished with her," he said quietly.
Blaise scoffed. "Aren't you done with her already? You have nothing left to teach her."
Draco stared into his eyes. "Just give me more time."
He sighed, stubbing out the cigarette. "Fine," he said with a shrug. "I could never say no to you. She doesn't remember a thing anyway. Just don't take too long, or else I might just find that I like her clueless."
Draco nodded. He clasped Blaise's shoulder gratefully and leaned in to swiftly kiss him once on the cheek. "It won't take long," he said with conviction.
Here Blaise smirked. "You know, in Italy, we kiss both cheeks."
"Yeah? Well in England, more than one kiss borders on faggot," Draco said. The two chuckled. An inside joke.
"Suit yourself," Blaise said airily, padding softly toward the bed where the two sisters slumbered lightly. "I suppose I'll just have to amuse myself with these two for now. Aren't they grand? I found them at a dinner party the other night. They reminded me of her, you know."
"What? They look nothing like her," Draco retorted.
"Well, the hair anyway," he said, running his hand through one of the girl's glossy brown hair. Draco's eyes narrowed. Blaise slowly caressed the girl's face; she stirred slightly, but not enough to awaken. His hand moved down to her small neck…..
"You know, even though I'm your mate, I'm the Minister's man now," Draco interrupted lazily, his voice stilling Blaise's hand. "I'd prefer it if I didn't have to haul your arse over to Azkaban, but I'm afraid I'd also rather not be an accessory to a crime."
Blaise looked over at him, his face amused. "What a good friend you are," he murmured. "Nice to know the Ministry hasn't completely taken you over."
Draco, with the cigarette case in his hand, tapped it to his forehead as a sort of parting salute. "Wait until I'm out of sight, would you?"
Blaise merely waved him off, his attention already back on the two girls. Draco smiled and exited, closely the door softly behind him. Once his back was to the door, all traces of friendliness melted off his face, evaporated off his body, revealing a cold, stoic expression. He marched down the hall, his gait neither leisurely nor hurried. Before he could reach the opening to the stairs, he could hear the creaking of the bed, no doubt Blaise leaning over.
A gurgle.
Then a muffled scream.
As he walked down the stairs, he never slowed his pace, he never quickened it. His lips were set in a grim line. His eyes were cloudy. He wondered what number these girls were. Draco had thought Blaise was laying low these days, but it seemed he still had that itch he just couldn't scratch. It was aristocrats like him that gave the rest of them a bad name. He didn't think that Blaise would go off to this deep of an end but…. Well, it was to expected, he supposed, seeing as how his mother was…
The place positively reeked of sex. He wouldn't be surprised if there wasn't a square inch of the place that hadn't been defiled. Though he was sure the place was meticulously cleaned everyday, he could swear every surface was sweaty, sticky, and wet with bodily fluids.
When he exited the mansion, he didn't realize the day had gotten so windy. His light cotton, dark navy blue coat whipped around him, offering him little protection from the wind. The weather didn't bother him though. He liked tumultuous days like these – it made him feel alive. Walking down the path, he headed for the empty, grassy field in front the mansion. The thing about rich folks was that they built grandiose buildings and gardens to display their wealth, but they also made damn sure they were isolated so that no one could get near them.
Once he put enough distance between him and the mansion, he stopped. He opened the silver case and took out another cigarette, putting it in his mouth. Try as he might though, he couldn't get it lit; even when ducking his head and cradling the flame with his hand, it just wouldn't burn.
"Think you could help a bloke out?" he asked to the apparently open air in front of him, his diction a bit off due to the fag in his mouth.
When he finally looked up, there were suddenly five aurors, strictly lined up in a V-formation. Their stance was tense, their faces were stern. They were all in their official combat uniforms: black, high-necked collar shirts, black slacks, black combat boots, black glasses, black belt, black gloves and a thick, black, long coat.
The leader in the front, the center point of the group, walked up. He flicked his finger at the cigarette, lighting it up instantly.
"Here you are, sir."
"Cheers," Draco said with a slight smirk. He blew a mouthful of smoke toward them, only to have it carried behind him by a strong gust of wind.
"You're destroying me Hermione….."
"Hermione…."
"Hermione..""Hermione? Hello? Hermione??"
"Oh sorry! What was that Harry?" she jolted up, breaking up her thoughts quickly.
"I've only been calling you for about a minute," he said, looking at her suspiciously.
"Er….were you now?" she asked meekly. "What about?"
"I was asking if you were all right but from the looks of things, I think I know my answer," he said, eyeing her sternly.
"Lay off the old girl Harry," Ron said jovially, slapping her on the back. "Our 'Mione's just a little under the weather, aren't you? Don't feel so bad, when you become thirty, it'll be nothing! Remember, we live longer than the Muggles, so in a sense you – "
"I'm not….depressed over my age, Ron," she said, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow. "I was simply lost in thought. You know, massive information swarming all around in there – had to organize myself."
"You don't look like you're organizing," Harry pressed on. "You look tired, that's what you look like."
"Of course I'm tired!" she said hastily. "Did you see what I have to put up with?" She gestured to the lab doors behind them. "You want to go back in there? Because I certainly don't."
She just didn't have the energy to control them today. Hermione was simply too exhausted. She tried to put them in their place this morning, but her minions could smell weakness. The nanosecond they realized she was tired and relent-able, they quickly rallied together and were now enjoying a project filled day. She shuddered.
She didn't even want to know what that creature was made out of. Did her people even have access to trilobites?
Hermione had to hold in a sigh. She must have been too sloppy at keeping her act together. Now both Ron and Harry were breathing down her neck, wondering what was the matter with her. What did she have to tell them? Disjointed, semi-mad, unfathomable experiences? Their immediate reaction would be to beat now, question later, but this time that sort of reaction did not sit well with her.
No, there was something amiss. Something that…..didn't need to be solved, because she already knew what it was. Now if only she could remember what it was. She knew the answers were within her, she just needed to dig deep, clear her mind and all that.
But did she want to?That was the main question. There was something wrong with this whole situation, something terribly wrong. It couldn't have been coincidence that both Blaise and Malfoy had some dark secrets that supposedly involved her. They couldn't have gone mad at the same time, so that must mean she did play a part in….well, something.
But where was she to start? Obviously she didn't remember anything. She had analyzed the situation to death without coming across any new information. To think about it anymore would be a waste of time and energy. So for the past day or two she took a dreamless sleeping draught, afraid of what her dreams might bring her.
And now she was such a mess that even Harry was taking an interest.
"Shouldn't you be with your son, Harry Potter?" she asked primly, poking him on the shoulder.
"He's tired of me," he replied simply, waving her off. "We spent all of last night playing Hide-And-Go-Seek. Wasn't until the middle of the game did I realize the little bastard took my Cloak."
"Harry! Language!"
Harry and Ron grinned. It was funny, Hermione telling them to watch their mouths.
"Don't be silly 'Mione, the kid's not listening in," Ron teased, rubbing her hair.
"Don't touch me," she said, swatting his hand away smartly. The two men laughed.
"Hey, save the nastiness for Malfoy, would you," Ron said, blowing on his hand to relieve the sting.
Hermione and Harry both stiffened at the name.
"Where is he anyhow? Never thought he was the type to blow off a Friday," Ron continued musing.
God, Malfoy. What was she going to do? What was he going to do? She had no choice. She had to confront him. Both of them. But…..Malfoy first. She didn't know why, but she felt more comfortable talking to Malfoy than Blaise. It just felt….safer, somehow. Which was strange. Blaise had never even lifted a finger against her while Malfoy….. well, anyway, she just felt like she was on better footing with her old nemesis.
So she would confront him. Once she worked up the nerves. Once Malfoy returned to work. Yes. She would. With blinding speed.
Oh gods….he said her name….!
"Probably off doing whatever a Malfoy does" Harry said darkly. Ron rolled his eyes. And Ron thought he held a grudge.
"Get over it mate," he said with a sigh. "You and Hermione both – give the bloke a break. Sure he's a right wanker that'd leave you in a ditch if it suited…..his…needs……wait..," he trailed off confused at his line of thinking.
"Yes? Go on Ron," Hermione supplied. "What part of that sentence was supposed to convince us of his good qualities?"
"Er….I had it there….for a second…..," he mumbled. Damn, now that he said it in words…. "Well in any case," he rallied forth, "I'm almost certainly, 90 percent positive, that he wouldn't just randomly stab you from behind." He nodded, satisfied with his accurate portrayal.
"Comforting," Harry muttered.
While Harry and Ron bickered a bit more about Draco's moral character (later Ron would acquiesce that perhaps 90 percent was a bit too much and the two agreed on a number closer to 70), Hermione had to mentally shake herself.
"Be strong, you stupid twit," she told herself. "Now you got Harry mixed into the bunch, if getting Ron all worried about you wasn't enough. You just….you just set your problems aside and WORK, woman!"
She took a deep breath. She squared her shoulders. There. She felt a lot better. More…Hermione-like. She rolled up her sleeves.
"Okay boys, I'm going back in," she said with a determined glint in her eyes. She marched with authority toward her labs, with her boys trailing closely behind. Seeing her whip people into shape was always an amusing pastime. She opened the doors with a forceful bang.
She whipped her head around, focusing on the closest minion. Johnson.
"Johnson, put those beakers down, get out your notebook and get your data portion finished. Now, please," she said firmly.
She never really liked to bully her people, but sometimes, in the recesses of a genius's mind, it would only respond to a stronger authority. It had to be done. Lives were at stake, after all.
Though his lips quivered, he raised his chin slightly. "No, Dr. Granger," he said without his voice cracking too much. "I want to work on my very important project."
The room turned deathly quiet.
"What did you just say?" Hermione said softly, her voice deceptively calm.
"I….I said….No, Dr. Granger," he said nervously, gripping his beakers tighter.
"I see," she said simply, her face the very picture of neutral. She casually picked up his long abandoned notebook and flipped through it, almost as if she had forgotten his presence. After a few pages, she sighed, rolled up the notebook and turned, as if walking away.
The calm before the storm.
Johnson breathed a sigh of relief. He knew those self-help tapes on self-esteem were worth it.
WHACK
"OW! What the -! Did you just HIT me?!!"
WHACK "SHUT UP!"
"OW OW OW OOOW!!"
Harry and Ron blinked, stiffening their backs in surprise. She moved…….surprisingly quickly.
"HOW many times do I have to tell you?! WE. DO. NOT. TRY. TO. MAKE. GOLD!" WHACK "Who do you think you are?" WHACK "Eh?! Nicolas Flamel?!"
"OOOooW Dr. Granger!!" he wailed, cowering. How did such a small woman have so much strength? When did she suddenly become so……..giant?!
"You're in MODERN TIMES NOW, for Merlin's sake! People have been trying to do this for CENTURIES and they've failed! Why is that?"
"I-I don't know!"
WHACK "What?!"
"I-I mean…..because….they're not as smart…as…me?" This was not said cheekily. Geniuses did not have a sense of cheek. This was pure, objective opinion.
"No, idiot! It's because it's a fool's errand! Hundreds of people, ten times smarter than you have tried and failed. Don't think you're the one who's going to succeed, because you're not!"
"But….But…!"
"NO BUTS! FIRST! It's supposed to be metal to metal! You can't try to turn WATER into GOLD! FOOL!"
WHACK
"SECOND! Your base is all wrong and if you try and pour one more drop of THAT you're going to have to regrow your eyebrows. Again!"
WHACK
"OOOOOOW! STOPPIT!"
"FINALLY! That is NOT WHACK a Philosopher's Stone WHACK that is a candied nut from last month's party you found off the ground!"
WHACK WHACK WHACK
"NOW GET BACK TO WORK! THE LOT OF YOU!" she roared, addressing the whole lab, her makeshift club sweeping across the room.
Everyone quickly unfroze and swept their experiments into their lockers underneath their work-table. Soon the lab was buzzing, with the alchemists working on the appropriate project. For once.
Hermione, with her hands at her hips, surveyed her domain with satisfaction. There was a light tap on her shoulder. "Yes?"
"A…are you sure this is all right?" Ron whispered.
She shrugged, smiling pleasantly. "Oh yes, it's fine, happens all the time. I'll just give them some boxes of Harriet's Fruity Gummies later and they'll all be happy as clams."
Harry ran his hand through his messy black hair.
"Merlin help us all," he whispered, his eyes bulging with awe.
The aurors were watching Draco with a bit of apprehension, though they did not move or say anything. Draco merely stood there, enjoying his cigarette.
Finally, someone from the back – young, arrogant, and headstrong – blurted out, "Why the hell do we have to wait here when he's obviously dangling right in front of us, guilty as sin!"
Though he technically shouldn't have been able to hear it all the way out there, Draco could have sworn he heard one of the girl's high-pitched screams from the mansion behind him. He winced slightly, with one of his eyes twitching, but otherwise showed no outward sign of emotion.
Without acknowledging the young auror, Draco turned to the leader, a war-worn man around his mid-thirties, with a sharp smile. "I thought you briefed them, Josiah."
"Apologies sir," the commander stated. "This tac team was chosen to help break in some of the rookies." A meaningful glare was shot toward the outspoken newbie's direction. "All right you lot, since you don't apparently remember words that were spoken to you no less that thirty minutes ago, let's go over this again. We are not to make our move until headquarters has cleared us. And WHY is that so?"
A couple of hands were raised. Draco couldn't help but notice the bizarre juxtaposition of the classroom-like scene before him with the horrifying crime happening in real time behind him.
Commander Derrick Josiah picked the young man with the long, brown hair in the back. "Mannings."
"Sir, it was at the suggestion of sir Draco Malfoy sir, the one who came to us with information involving the serial killer in the first place, that we wait until his deposits for the funding of the Ministry be approved before we close in on the perp, sir!" he said clearly.
Cold-hearted and not necessarily brimming full of righteous justice, it was, however, chock full of self-interest. Sure, they could have arrested him right then and there, but due to small technicalities in the Wizarding Law, if Blaise was arrested before the money made its way into the Ministry's bank account, there was a chance that the money could be revoked. Better to wait, Draco had said, until they knew for certain the money was theirs.
There was a beep and the commander's hand went to his ear. After a pause he raised his hand in the air and motioned forward. "Let's go people. B formation, alpha pair goes in from behind, just like in our drills."
With a unanimous "Yes SAH!" the team disappeared with a crack.
Once they Apparated inside the estate, Draco saw that there was a petite auror with short, black hair left behind. She must have been crouched behind the team of aurors, hidden from view. She was doing something peculiar – she was pointing her wand at two piles of yellow leaves, shaking and sweating from the effort. Draco could feel the wand, humming with energy.
She turned to him and greeted him with a nod before turning her attention back to the leaves. "You'll have to forgive me if I'm not being more friendly-like."
He cocked his head intrigued. "What exactly are you doing?"
The young woman turned her head back to him, raising an eyebrow. "You don't really think the two women inside are real, do you sir?"
Draco blinked.
She gave a strained, reassuring smile.
He turned when he heard a shout, a mangled roar that could have only come out of one man. Blaise Zabini. He could hear him struggling, yelling, and cursing in a mixture of English and Italian.
Mission: Success.
The woman sighed in relief and swished her wand across, scattering the piles of leaves with a gush of produced wind. "The Ministry's methods have changed since your days, sir. We don't allow such extreme sacrifices anymore," she continued, wiping her brow.
Draco caught a leaf floating in front of him with his thumb and index finger. "And the correlation between that and leaves is…?"
"I'm from Kyoto, sir, from an old onmyouji family – er, diviners, if you'd like. We have a technique that creates illusions based off of natural elements. With the help of my wand, I created two shiki, that's spirits, sir, out of the leaves. Those piles were my base and I controlled my familiars from here."
"Fascinating," he murmured. Sometimes he forgot there were other sources of magic and sorcery to draw upon, especially in other cultures.
An auror appeared next to him with a flash. "Sir, we've apprehended the criminal. We're in the process of escorting him outside to better transport him – his estate has some pretty powerful wards. What will you do next, sir?"
"Sir?"
"Shit," Draco thought vaguely, feeling a terrible, familiar burning starting from his arm and reaching all the way to the tips of his hair and toes. Grimacing, he kneeled down on one knee, trying to cope with the pain. "Not now…."
"Sayaka, get the commander down here now, we have a situation!" the auror, Brent Irving, ordered the woman. She was about to summon him when –
"No," Draco said straightening, "I'm fine." He held out something sparkly in his hand – a diamond stud. "Yours?"
Sayaka quickly touched her ear, indeed finding her earring missing. "Oh my, I must have snagged it when I wiped my face…."
"Sorry for jumping to conclusions, I just assumed….," Brent offered, embarrassed.
"Have your commander teach you a thing or two about assumptions," Draco said, not unkindly. "It could get a man killed."
He should go. Draco looked back at the mansion, the sound of the ruckus getting louder. Looked like they were about to exit. Call it cowardly if you'd like, but no prudent Slytherin would stick around, not after such a blatant betrayal. No, there was no need to burn bridges when it wasn't necessary. Who knew, Blaise may still be of some use further down that road. That is, if he ever got out of Azkaban.
He was out of there.
"I'll leave the rest up to your department then. Keep me up on further developments, understood?" Draco said sternly, reminding the aurors without words that in no way should word leak out that he had helped them out in any way with this raid.
Brent and Sayaka voiced their affirmative and with that, Draco Apparated with a crack.
"Cor, so that was the infamous Draco Malfoy eh?" Sayaka said softly, looking at the spot Draco occupied only a moment ago.
"Star struck, Saya?" Brent said with a wry grin. Sayaka slapped his arm good-naturedly.
"He really was something though, wasn't he?" she said.
"Yeah, had me shivering in me boots," Brent whistled. "Damn that man is unflappable."
Somewhere, possibly in an alley, Draco would have had to disagree. He leaned against the cool brick wall trying his damnedest not to crumple up into a little pile. He gritted his teeth, determined not to make a sound, whatever the cost. His pride would not allow it.
"Not yet," he thought. "Just a little……just a little bit longer…"
"Did you hear about Blaise Zabini?" Severus Snape asked.
It was Sunday afternoon at the Malfoy Manor, where Severus and Draco were having their usual lunch and tea. Severus made it a habit of visiting his godson at least once a month at his home.
"Of course I heard about him," Draco snorted, setting a fresh pot of English Breakfast down on the table. "It's all over the Prophet. They can't get enough of him."
The news hit the Wizarding World Saturday morning, with the front-page headline screaming the discovery. According to the Daily Prophet, Blaise Zabini was to be charged for the murder of at least sixteen women and eight men, all sexual and cold-blooded in nature. His mother was crying foul, while his attorney was already preparing to have the court dismiss his case on grounds of insanity.
"I never suspected that Zabini was one of those," Snape muttered darkly. Draco didn't reply, instead pouring the tea into both their cups. He had known of Blaise's deviant nature to an extent back when they were growing up – hell, they were practically partners in crime – but when he discovered what his true pleasure was, it had come as a bit of a shock.
Changing topics, Snape asked, "And how are you today, Draco? Is the new formula working better for you?"
He shrugged. "As well as can be expected, I suppose." Draco gave him a long look. Then, "Tell me again why I'm taking this disgusting potion?"
Snape bit back a sigh. Every time he came over, Draco had to know what he was forced to drink and why. Sometimes Snape felt it would be easier just to tell him the whole truth and have him remember everything. It was all Potter's doing.
"We've gone over this before, Draco," he said tiredly, going through the same words once again. "You took the Mark without the intention of taking the Mark. You took it without swearing completely and utter loyalty to the Dark Lord deep within your heart. And that would have been fine, except during the time you had the Mark and He was still alive, you allowed the darkness to overtake you, corrupting your soul. It activated something deep in the magic and is now trying to completely take over soul with darkness. Do you understand that?"
Snape knew most times Draco asked this question was only to be difficult and give him a hard time, but what else did a godfather do, if not indulge from time to time?
"So? And this potion is curing me?" Draco asked, knowing full well the answer. He just needed to play his part, one last time.
Another bit back sigh. "No, for now, it is merely holding the magic at bay while a cure is being researched and worked on. We are well on our way to success, Draco, you only need to hold out just a little bit more."
If they were to follow formula, this would be the point where Draco threw a fit, demanding to know why the cure had not been found yet. He was supposed to yell, how much longer was just a little bit more, he had been saying a little bit more for years now.
Instead, Draco asked, "Well, what would happen if the body began to adapt to the main components of the potion? If I was becoming immune?"
Snape's eyebrows shot up. He looked at him sharply and said, "Then that would be extremely dangerous. If your body began creating an immunity to it, at first sign it should be reported."
Silence.
"Is that the case, Draco?" he asked quietly, his voice filled with dread.
A pregnant pause. Then Draco merely laughed. "No, no. I was merely tossing out a hypothetical."
Snape's eyes narrowed with apprehension, but Draco appeared to be in high-spirits. "More tea?" he offered innocently. As he poured, Snape regarded him warily.
"Is your mark reacting?"
"No, Godfather," he reassured him. "Just the slightest of tingles. I'll be fine."
Snape appeared to be content with this answer and their lunch proceeded without another hitch. It wasn't until he left, late in the evening, after Draco cleaned up the table, did he smile. A chuckle. His shoulders shook. Soon he couldn't stop laughing. His deep voice echoed throughout the entire empty manor. Once he calmed down a bit, he rubbed his forearm.
"Tingles," he mocked. "It fucking burns."
He entered his room where he yet again opened the small drawer, taking out the worn picture of Hermione. He held it up to his face, memorizing it. He leaned one hand on the desk, the other still held high with the picture.
Draco closed his eyes and brought the photograph to his face. He kissed it.
He kissed her.
With his lips still pressed to the photo, he whispered, "This is all your fault."
She forced his hand. He tried. Oh, he tried to resist. But she just couldn't leave him alone. It was like she wanted this.
Wanted this just as badly as he did.
He spared a glance at the white trash container he kept near his desk. It was filled to the brim with broken glass vials, sticky with red residue. The liquid seeped through a leak on the bottom of the bin, oozing onto the expensive rug.
Now…..how shall he punish her?
Though she had been taking the dreamless draught the entire weekend, Hermione still felt haunted. She had slept most of Sunday away, so why was she still so tired? Her mind was plagued with too many questions, even though she had tried to force herself not to think about it. She just couldn't help it. And she kept on thinking about that kiss.
That kiss.
Her face would burn red just at the thought of it. She should have been disgusted. But instead, she was frightened, if anything. Not at Malfoy, exactly. It was more of….what that kiss represented. And she didn't know what that was!! It was killing her. All she knew was that having him kiss her was bad. Very bad. Hermione unconsciously touched her soft lips with her fingertips. It was so raw, savage, and passionate…..
She shook herself.
As she cleared some papers from her desk, her eyes fell on the discarded Daily Prophet in her bin. She shuddered. How could it be possible Blaise was a cold-blooded killer? A depraved, sexual deviant who found the greatest pleasure in killing his victims while in the throes of passion?
Did that mean she was a target? That was very likely. When Hermione read the headlines, she immediately ran to the bathroom, expelling all the contents of her breakfast into the toilet. All that time with him, alone with him……was he planning on killing her too? How could she have been so stupid and naïve? It was probably foolish of her to let down her guard like that, but in her mind, she found it hard to imagine that someone so twisted as Blaise could act so normal most of the time. Especially whenever he was around her. He was so everyday, so charming, so in control. She expected the insane to be frothing at the mouth all the time, or muttering to themselves, or grinning evilly and just look like they were plotting nefarious deeds.
Gods, she survived fighting a war only to be potentially killed in bed with a twisted madman. Thankfully she had lost her nerve to go through with her plan of getting rid of her virginity. Although, it was strange he never even tried to pressure into anything, much less sex. Perhaps he had other plans for her? Hermione grimaced. That somehow did not seem like a better option, in her opinion.
She was certain now, even after all of her confusion and denial, that they must have had a history together. What kind of history, she didn't know. She suspected that Blaise wanted something out of her and for some reason, did not want to acquire it unless she remembered what that was, what their relationship was in the past.
Whatever it was, she was glad it had been a deciding factor for her mortality. Maybe she subconsciously knew about this and that was why she always felt wary in his presence. Yes, that made a lot of sense. Otherwise, what else did he do that would warrant such a strong reaction in her? Come to think if it, she remembered that he reminded her of something. More specifically, he smelled of something familiar. Something very familiar and important, but she just couldn't manifest the exact image in her mind. Hermione's brain was whirling madly. The puzzle pieces were fitting together, if only a little bit. The revelation of Blaise's true nature was helping her remember. Something was starting to take shape.
She gasped. She knew what he smelled like.
And she knew that it must have been because of that smell that Hermione was always on the edge, her adrenaline pumping into her system a mile a minute. How could she have forgotten. How could she have forgotten that smell. That smell that had plagued her, that sunk into her memory, into her skin. Scarring her, tattooing her, etching her with that smell. That smell that in wartime, permeated the entire air.
He smelled of sweat and he smelled of sex.
He smelled of blood.
And he smelled of death.
How could she have forgotten something so important?
Hermione gasped back a sob, cradling her head her in her hands and she propped her elbows on her desk.
Oh gods….
Later, she was glad no one was there to see her crumple so easily at the thought of she could have been killed. How embarrassing.
Now, she had only one task in mind: Solve this convoluted mystery!
For that, she had to rally all of her courage and pride and strength. It wouldn't be easy – hell, he could fly off the handle at any moment – but she would do it. She couldn't suffocate her drive for answers any longer. She would have her wand ready and she made sure there were people around the hallway near his office, in case things got out of hand. Hermione took a deep breath.
"Let's do this," she thought grimly to herself.
She stuck her wand in her robe pocket and marched into Draco's office opening the door with a loud bang.
"MALFOY!" she shouted, her face determined, her eyebrows knotted. "You have a lot of expl -!"
"Good of you to come by, Granger," Draco interrupted her loftily without looking up from his work. "Wondering when you'd show up…,," he muttered, sounding slightly peeved.
"I…what?" she stuttered, completely caught off guard. He sighed, finally looking up. He gestured grandly at the tall stack of papers on this desk.
"These aren't going to sign themselves, you know," he said a bit snappishly. "Don't think because I'm watching over your department means that I'm going to be trotting back and forth with these like some sort of secretary."
Hermione still hadn't closed her mouth. She blinked rapidly. Her brain quickly backtracked, trying to get a grasp on this entirely new, very unpredicted situation.
Draco's eyes narrowed a little. When he saw that she wasn't moving, he experimentally threw a pen at her, aiming for her head.
"Pfft!" she cried as the nib, in its revolving journey over to her, grazed her lips and chin. She quickly wiped her face in case the ink marked her. "Hey!"
She glared at him. He shook his head and resumed his work. She took a hesitant step forward then retreated two steps. After a long pause, she cleared her throat.
"Er…..I'll just….sign them now….shall I?" she ventured uncertainly. He merely grunted. Taking that as an affirmative, she gingerly sat down on one of the hard, uncomfortable seats provided in front of his desk and began signing the paperwork.
The clock on his wall ticked for a minute passed.
Five minutes had passed.
Twenty minutes had passed. With nothing exceptional happening.
Draco sighed. "Would you mind not staring at me? It's unnerving," he said with a tinge of annoyance.
"I-I wasn't staring at you!" she sputtered. She was sneaking glances at him – that was completely different. She didn't know what to expect. Maybe if he suddenly jumped up from his chair, yelled out, 'BLEAAUUUGH!" and flipped the desk over, that would have been more in character with how he had been acting lately.
As she finished signing the papers, she couldn't help but feel calmed at the notion that perhaps he was back to normal, business as usual. That would certainly make things a little easier. It felt nice, to settle back into a dynamic she knew. But that wouldn't solve anything. It felt so nice, though, to have things as they once were…. Hermione stood up, dreading what she had to ask.
"Malfoy, I need to know – "
A head burst into Draco's fireplace. "Draco, are you almost done with those sheets? Accounting needs to go over the figures by the end of today," Minister Weasley said a bit nervously.
"Almost done, sir. I just need Granger's department and…..blast, where was it," Draco shuffled around a few folders on his desk before finding it, "here, Muggle Relations before I can get it over to Fong."
"Good job," Arthur said happily, glad Draco was on top of things. "Oh yes, I need to speak with you for a moment as well, once you finished up what you're doing. It's about that new project I talked to you about the other day."
"Sir, with all due respect, I can honestly tell you that the Ministry is in no position to spend that kind of money over something so – "
"No no, wait my boy!" Arthur interjected pathetically. Hermione rolled her eyes, despite herself. She couldn't believe the head of Funds could wrap the Minister of Magic around his pinky finger like that. "Just listen to what I have to say, I'm sure you'll understand perfectly why it needs to be so."
To his credit, Draco showed great patience and restraint, as he didn't even sign or frown at the Minister. He merely nodded and told him he would be along in a moment. When the fire died out, he stood. He suddenly looked at Hermione. "Sorry, you were saying?"
Hermione quashed the urge to blush. Why, after only asking a simple question and standing up, did he suddenly look so fetching? He looked just like he normally did and that never affected her before. She quickly tried to reason that she may have just been so happy that he was acting normally, she felt……affectionate toward him.
Right.
"I just…..I just wanted to clear up…ah….," she floundered, her sentence trickling to a whisper.
He raised an elegant eyebrow. She looked up at him.
She really was a coward after all. If he was acting normal, she didn't want to do anything to aggravate the problem. Not a very efficient way to deal with a problem, but one she really, selfishly wanted to utilize at the present time. He didn't seem like he was concerned over anything other than boring Ministry funds and work. She was barely a blip on his radar.
"Um…nothing. It wasn't important," she said lamely, bowing her head. She turned to leave.
"Wait," he said softly, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. These shivers were different than the ones she had around Blaise. She turned around, her heart quickening. She flinched when she saw him raising his hand and reaching over to her.
He neatly and smartly unbuttoned her top button and fussed around her shirt a bit. Hermione quickly looked down.
"You skipped a button," he said simply. When he was done, he patted and smoothed down her collar. Like she was just a mannequin, a doll. "There, much better."
She brought her hand up to her shirt. "Er…thanks …," she said slowly, looking back up at him.
He smiled easily.
She gulped.
Without another word, with a few folders under his arm, he exited his office to go see the Minister.
Hermione was left there, her hand never letting go of her shirt.
There was something definitely off with Malfoy today. She could just feel it. She thought at first she was paranoid, thinking that he was strange today because he was acting normally. Then she noticed something else.
He was relaxed.
Too relaxed.
Well, of course he always seemed like he was easy-going and smooth, like a strong, calm river. But Hermione knew him – she knew that underneath that layer of carefree attitude, she knew there was a solid, stern column within. Most of his smiles and drawls were all for show. She knew him to be quick and calculating, constantly shifting himself to adapt to the environment.
Now, though. All the strings that were holding him up taunt, all the discipline and meticulousness and restraint were gone. It was like……he just didn't care anymore. Like he was just playing this game called: Pretend that You Work for the Ministry. Oh yes, he was doing all of his tasks correctly and all that, but it was like it just for a lark. An actor in a play.
She didn't know what was more disturbing: a highly agitated, violent Malfoy or a Malfoy that apparently felt like he was free of all responsibility. All this thinking made her tired, to be honest. She trudged to the break room to maybe get something to drink and refresh her system.
And of course, Malfoy just HAD to be there.
"You're going to have to wait a moment, I just put a new pot on," he said, his eyes practically glittering with amusement.
"Did you manage to kick a puppy on the way to work, Malfoy, or did something even more joyous happen to you this morning?" Hermione grunted, leaning against the counter across the room from him.
"No puppies, unfortunately, since I so desperately need to sacrifice one for my brew to destroy the world," he said flippantly, inspecting his nails, "but I did hear the most interesting news just now."
Hermione shifted her eyes. She didn't like the sound of that.
"So….," he said with a slowly growing grin.
She cringed.
"For your next birthday present, shall I buy you an official whacking stick, or do you just make do with any sort of object that can create that sort of effect?"
"I'll have you know that had I tried a gentler method, there would be a smoking pit where my lab used to be, with everybody in the Ministry strewn with tentacles and most likely their precious bits would have been transformed into some sort of holiday ornament!" Hermione gritted out, already on the defensive. Such snarkiness abound! Uncalled for!
"Oh Granger, you know that's the real reason the Minister keeps you around," he said, trying to keep from laughing. "I wish I was there – tell me, did you just…hit him, or did you do a little jump in the air first to gain some more momentum?"
"I - ….no comment!"
The coffee pot gave a smart little 'ding!' letting them know their nourishment was ready. Draco turned around, pouring it into two mugs and generally clanging about. "You take it with no milk, less than a spoonful of sugar, right?"
"What? I mean….um, yes, I suppose," she muttered. Awful gracious of him to do her coffee as well. When he turned around, he held out her mug of coffee. She crossed the room and took it, only the return to her position against the counter. Hermione felt a little distance between them wouldn't hurt.
She smelled the coffee – it smelled wonderful. When she looked up, she saw him looking at her. Not staring out of anger or contempt or (she shuddered here) lust, but…..just looking.
"What are you looking at?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
He merely looked at her. And then starting laughing. A clear, deep, rippling laugh. When he saw the question in her eyes, it looked like he tried to explain himself, but he just couldn't stop laughing. He waved his hand, indicating she just forget about it and relax.
Once he settled down, with only a few chuckles here and there, she asked, "Are you quite done or should I give you another minute?"
"Oh, no, I'm finished," he said with smile. "Please." He lifted his cup and drank a sip.
She shot him a withering look before bringing the cup up to her lips.
It all happened in a blur, but all she remembered was the burn of the hot liquid to her lips. Before she could even open her mouth to sip the coffee, suddenly, Snape came barging in, slamming the door open. He marched directly to Hermione and with a speed she never knew he had, knocked the mug out of her hands, causing to crash onto the floor, spilling its entire contents.
Quick as lightning, he spun around and slammed his fist into Draco's face, knocking him down. He slid down to the floor, his back supported by the cabinet. Hermione was frozen with shock but when she saw Draco fall to the ground, she immediately began rushing toward him.
Snape, with his back still to her, automatically held out his right arm stopping her. He was so tense, every fiber of his being crackled with power and adrenaline. It was as if he was about to do battle. He was breathing harshly, staring intently at Draco.
Mysteriously, Draco seemed unfazed. He was merely looking at Snape with an amused, composed look on his face. It was almost angelic in its lack of malice.
It wasn't until later did Hermione realize that it was a face of a man barely hanging onto reality by a thread.
SWEET LORD THAT WAS LONG! I cannot believe I just wrote all of that. Freaking 25 pages in Word.
Wellll…..what do you all think? I SWEAR, this is the last chapter that does things without any explanations behind it. Next chapter, things will slowly begin to unravel. I promise! I'm sorry if seems like I'm straying from the plot with all this other stuff, but trust me, it's either VERY important or I just like building around my little version of the Harry Potter universe.
Apologies again, for the horrid grammar and what-not, this chapter is not officially beta-ed. I'm in the process of getting my entire story cleaned up (thanks to PinkMartini and Katdiva!) but I won't repost with the corrected chapters until the entire story is complete. For all of you that vomit at the sight of technical errors, I am truly sorry. But I feel that since this is a fan-site and not an official book in which you pay to see it, I ask that you be a little more tolerant. For me. For the New Year. PLEASE.
As always, I appreciate ANYONE that drops a message, even if it IS to say, "You have lots of mistakes." STILL APPRECIATE IT. Truly. I hope you like where I'm going with this story. For more on what I have to say about this chapter, go to my livejournal )
OH! I found this out today on someone's profile on (she did a GREAT fic of Draco/Hermione during the War – it's called Sacrifice, by Kyra4, it's bloody great, inspired me and I think you'll see that inspiration later on in the story), and she mentioned this grammar error that bugs the hell out of her.
Did you know there's a difference between blond and blonde? BECAUSE I DIDN'T! Apparently, blond is usually used to describe males while blonde is for females! What did you know, I learned something today. And you better believe I went back and corrected all of my mistakes!!
Anyhoo, that's enough for now. Shower me with….well, whatever you got because I'm good and desperate like that. Have a wonderful new year and I hope you get everything you wish for! Thank yoU!
Love,
Snowflakeimp