Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, I only update in my sparetime when I'm not working, hope you understand, please leave a review. Happy Labor Day!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my imagination and whatever else is in this story that doesn't make sense. I was inspired by another romance novel i read and J.K. Rowlings wonderful world. Enjoy!
Chapter 42
"Wrapped so Pretty"
She let out a breath of relief. Looking back down from the high cliff she could she the village, with its usual rustic style cottages and shops below. Ahead of her the narrow path that lead towards her and Draco's home.
She had, had it! If he wanted her back home so badly then that's where she would go. She was seething with anger and couldn't believe someone was as hot headed, and as unbelievably stupid as he was this morning. She set her jaw and marched in the direction of home.
Hermione wasn't quite used to working magic with anyone's wand other than her own. But his wand would surely get the job done. She wasn't about to attempt the distant travel to Narcissa's castle in this state. The last search in those mountains left her extremely drained.
At last she reached their mansion, just the sight of it made her pine for its familiarity. Her bedroom and the king size bed she come to adore so, her kitchen with it's beautiful set of bay window that looked out into her rather plain estate. Her tiny collection of herbs and potted assortments of fluxweed. Which now, she wonder how the spuds were doing without her care.
Hermione used her confiscated wand to unlock the wrought iron gate as she approached them, and then with a flick she sealed them with a colloportus spell. Now they would remain shut, she like to see him make it through those without magic!
The black iron fencing incased their land completely, keeping intruders and anyone unwelcomed outside its barrier. It was the one thing she liked about her home. But the towering iron rods reminded her of a muggle jail in certain ways, regardless if he had them there for her protection or not. When she finally reached the house, she marched inside.
"Incarcerous!" she hissed, sending a twine of rope racing from his wand. It snaked its way around the twin knobs setting side by side on the front doors, securing them together with a tight figure eight. She did this to all the doors in the mansion, she then dismissed all of their servants, forbidding either of them to undue her work.
She had just finish securing the back entrance to their home. It was a second smaller gate that gave entrance past their estate. Draco came buzzing with anger up the hillside. A monstrosity of profanity escaping him with each breath and each step. "Hermione, love there's something wrong with the gate, and I've fucking lost my wand!"
"Yeah there something wrong all right. You,you maniac! Its nothing to do with the gate! You-you're absolutely crazy, and your drunk Draco Malfoy, drunk again for Godric's sake!"
With a flick and jab of the wand she was holding, she reinforced the locking spell on the rear gate a second go round. Draco caught eye of his mother's hawthorne wand, it had been his since his last encounter with Potter.
Hermione stalked back up the lawn. Her side and waist was throbbing from the weight of carrying the baby and from so much moving about.
But it wasn't long before she heard the rattling of the doors accompanied by a determined pounding on them. When it grew too loud, and disturbed her newfound peaceful state she hit them with a noise-repelling charm, she then tore tissue into two wadded pieces and shoved them into her ears. Beloved harmony at last.
Draco hauled himself up onto the lower section of the roof that jutted out over the first-floor study. First she had the gall to buy the retched muggle machinery on wheels, then she sabotaged his personal stuff. . . He had never touched or ruined any of her rudy whole wheaten bagels or the disgusting stash of oats and porridge, like she'd done to his cereal. And if that was not enough she had to go and embarrass him with tiptoeing around town with that block headed Bulgarian brat. This offense seemed strike a nerve a lot worse than either of the first two, even more than the fact that she had now managed to lock him out of his own house with his very own wand.
Maybe he was enjoying the challenge of breaking back into his own home, not to mention the anticipation of the ear full she was going to get once he found his way in.
The heat of the sun seemed to be on her side.
His white blonde hair felt like it was on fire under its full blast, and his pale skin was glistening with scarlet dewy beads of perspiration. It wasn't easy, but he'd managed to battle past a wall of venomous tentaculas.
He had ordered to have them planted when he initially paid for the estate, and even though they where extremely useful in preventing a infestation of gnomes, he'd forgotten all about them. He would have to remember to get rid of the blood thirsty plant once all of this was behind him.
Draco tiptoeing as lightly as he could across the roof, because he didn't want to loosen shingles and have the stupid thing spring a leak over his head the next time it rained. As he looked up blinking into the burning sunlight, he glanced out into the distance and saw dark clouds skidding across the afternoon sky, he figured the rain might not be too far off.
He reached the end of the roof, where it met up with the corner of the balcony that extended across the front of the house, and he felt a moment of disappointment because there wasn't a bigger gap to make this more of a challenge. Still, the slope of the rooftop was a bit steep, so that made things a bit more interesting.
He used the top edge of the balcony as a foothold, and lowered his slim and muscular-toned body over to the side of the roof. Legs dangling, he worked his way along the balcony's edge until he came to a solid corner.
A clap of thunder vibrated in the directions of the clouds. If it rain, he was going to kill her, more than he planned on killing her already. Then with a pray, he began to release his hold on the rough shingle-top inch by inch, until he felt he had a firm balance on the wobbly grillwork below, then he lowering himself entirely.