"I want it leaked. Yes, I know, but I have my reasons. Our transition needs to be noteworthy but not infamous. And there is the not inconsequential matter of her marriage order to Goyle. It disappears. Goyle will know better than to object." Hermoine blinked slowly, her eyes finding him at the huge picture window in the loft, the view overlooking the city. The black dragon tattoo on his back stood out in stark contrast to the pale alabaster of his skin, and the dragon seemed to writhe as the muscles of his back tensed and relaxed. The curling, barbed tail ended just at his waist, sitting an inch above where the waistband of his flowing black pants balanced on his hips. There was a Bluetooth earpiece glowing softly on his right ear, and she could see just his aquiline profile in the subdued light from the tinted window. He was carrying himself differently, she thought. The carefree grace was gone, and that damnable catlike, arrogant prowl was back in force, his cool stare out the window bringing back visions of the war. She closed her eyes. What had she done? She'd brought a new war, and much as he tried to deny it, Draco was a good man, and he would fight. Again. As if on cue a rich, melodious chuckle came from deep in his chest.
"Yes, you have the right of it, Wildemore, it is time, I have been too long gone, and there are many who need a," he paused, and smiled. "reminder, let us say, that complacency is a dangerous thing in this world. My fathers' way had its place, my friend, but he wielded power like a cudgel, bashing people about head to force them to his will because he liked to see them grovel. A cudgel is a crude weapon for crude use. Power should be wielded with elegance, like a fine blade. I have always been partial to finely honed blades. See to Ms. Grangers marriage decree first, it is an impediment that I have no particular desire to waste time on, besides, the problem will not only be quite likely moot, but also the least of their worries soon. Just do as I say, you will understand later."
"Draco." He turned sharply at her voice, his body noticeable relaxing, and strode over to sit on the bed beside her, one hand going to her wrist to check her pulse, the other pulling her eyelids up, inspecting her pupils. After a minute of inspection he nodded, relief in his expression.
"You're looking stronger. You scared the hell out of me, Hermoine Granger, never, ever do that again. I am not accustomed to worrying about someone. Do not give me occasion to have to do so again." He brushed his thumb over her lower lip tenderly, then pressed a kiss onto her hair before moving to the kitchen to pour her a cup of strong tea. She was more than a little bemused by these tender actions considering the tenor of the conversation she had overheard. Could it be that he could be such a complex dichotomy of traits at once? She didn't even try not to watch him move around, adding a plate of biscuits, nearly dropping them before they rose of their own accord and sailed to the bed, settling securely by her hip. Gods he was gorgeous, she admitted, an incredible blend of sophistication and danger, and regardless of the insane circumstances that precipitated his extreme tattoo work, the dragon and the sleeve of swirling patterns and pictures made her breath constrict in her throat. She wanted to climb him, she realized, with an equal mix of lust and disgust at herself. But that was not going to happen. She'd had little luck in love, no man could ever begin to compare with the memory of Severus, and she'd come away disappointed and disillusioned until she simply stopped trying. Draco could be the one man who could be what she wanted, but this time she knew she was irretrievably outclassed. When she had been with Severus, the threat of imminent death had put the old class and station argument to rest for a time, and they had been able to overlook that he was twenty years her senior, and the scion of an old pureblood family in their desperate, doomed love. Life wouldn't allow a chance with a man like that again.
He wondered if she knew that her eyes told all her emotions now, then decided she couldn't. Or perhaps it was just that he could see her better than most. But that was only the natural way, after all, whether she knew it yet or not, she belonged to him. She would have a hard time accepting that sort of concept, so he simply wouldn't tell her, it didn't matter. No matter what they did or did not do she would eventually be his.
"Silk sheets become you, they match your skin," he drawled, sliding a finger down her cheek. "And under more ordinary circumstances I would make sure you stayed wrapped in them for a good portion of the day, however, I don't believe you're quite up to that, and I find myself in the unenviable position of having acquired enough conscience to care. Therefore, now you've drunk your tea there's a bath drawn so you can remove the remnants of last nights activity while I explain the conversation you were so carefully eavesdropping on."
"While?" he smiled as her eyes widened.
"I can charm the bath water to be opaque for the sake of your modesty if you insist, though what real point that has is quite beyond me."
"I can charm the water myself, if I want," she grumped. "I'm not an invalid. I feel almost perfect."
"You felt perfect last night, but that's not an indication of recovery." She flushed at his reminder of them curled together into a tight knot on his bed. She'd not had the strength to deny him something that simple, not that she'd had any desire whatsoever to do so, and he'd been the perfect gentleman. Dammit. She acknowledged that she had no more idea how to handle this new, seductive and sophisticated Draco than she had the arrogant pureblood prat that he'd been ten years ago. It was frustrating and fascinating.
She did charm the bathwater opaque, she had never developed the confidence to unashamedly flaunt her body. He sighed in mock disappointment and sat on the edge of the tub, smirking that inimitable Malfoy smirk.
"I have decided that you might be right about it being time for me to go back to wizarding society," he started, giving her a nod of acknowledgement. "But not as the outcast scion of a disgraced family. No, that won't do at all. If I'm to oust that worthless git, Shackelbolt I'm going to have to reclaim some of the grandeur of the Malfoy name, not an easy thing with the damage my parents managed to do to it."
"But you have a plan." His smile was beautific.
"Silly Granger, of course I have a plan, I always have a plan. It's going to be a process, the wheels will always turn slowly. And by the way, since you dragged me into this, you're coming along for the , my dear, are about to become the new wizarding power couple. We're going to ride the waves of the press back into the top of society, then we're going to remake the world in our image."
"What!? Are you cracked? Draco, we can't exactly go striding into Diagon Alley amid flash bulbs, well, maybe you could but I'd be arrested on the spot."
"Your legal issues will soon be on a very far back burner, but that's beside the point. We're starting out in the Muggle world, where the only thing anyone knows about me is that I'm rich, single, powerful, and good looking. That makes me above reproach here. But we're not staying beyond reproach, no, that's too easy. We have an image to cultivate." And he slowly began to outline his plan.