Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters. I do not own Harry Potter and so on…
A/N: This is one of the longest chapters yet and I'm very excited to post it. In response to all of the wonderful, prompt reviews I up-dated especially early. Please remember to take a few moments to review. Thanks!
Stolen
Chapter 26: What Mattered Was
The day had been long, boring, and stifling. Draco had arrogantly announced that morning he would be leaving her alone all day and she was not to leave her room. He seemed to be frustrated with her reaction last night, rather than remorseful. He seemed to have the feeling she was biting the hand that fed her. She, on the other hand, felt he was taking this opportunity to demonstrate yet again his power of her life, that he could lock her away on a whim. Her house elf? Ridiculous! Now she'd have to kiss his arse all evening and bite her tongue hard to keep from saying anything at all to his horrible relatives if she wanted to do any Christmas shopping. Well, maybe his good looking cousin would be there. Just yesterday she had been excited, having finally found the perfect gift for Draco for Christmas and now she didn't even want to get him anything. Arguing with him in the morning had been a foul start to her day. From there it only got worse.
It was being so angry with him that kept her from having to worry about that odd moment the previous evening, the one that put her head in a tizzy. What had she been thinking? She was actually content to run off with her hormones and vain, wild fancies until he had brought it shrilly and painfully to her attention that it was nothing at all to him, and so, consequentially, was she for that matter. Hermione Granger had never been one in the past for casual intimacy, not one much for intimacy at all actually. Call her old fashioned, but she just didn't approve of the arrangements she knew many students to have, Draco included, which consisted of swapping sex as casually as phone numbers. She was not about to be used for momentary, thoughtless pleasure, even if she would be using him too. The whole thing disgusted her and she had been so close to recklessness, so close to losing sight of the lines between games and reality and much more. Mistakes like that would be inexcusable. She could frankly not afford to be selfish and impulsive.
Fuming with all such thoughts meandering in her brain, she went to work at counting the minutes until he returned and it was time to get ready. It was a laborious, draining business and she soon grew tired of it. A combination of pride and boredom carried her away from the safety of her room. She's be damned if anyone was going to tell her where to stay put. They'd all be taking lunch together downstairs no doubt. No one would be in the hall.
She crept cautiously into the hall and walked aimlessly, tempting fate. Her footsteps were muffled as she wore no shoes to tap the hard floors. It was cold in the hall where there were no fireplaces or carpet, but she didn't mind. She walked all the way down the main corridor of the upstairs hall farther than she had ever been, to the stain glass window. There she could look through the colored glass with the medieval depiction of who she believed to be Casus Malfoy, holding a wand and playing with several other children. Birds, falcons she suspected, soared above him. His hair was white blonde, not unlike Draco may have looked as a child. She smiled. She had never seen a picture of him when he was younger. She wondered what he looked like then, sweet and innocent or mischievous. She liked to picture him adorable and unspoiled. Perhaps if he saw a picture of her when she was a child he may look at her differently.
'Don't think about childhood,' she quickly told herself. 'Do not think about your parents. Pretend you're going home to them soon. You are just visiting for the holiday. They are at home now, cooking a meal together and laughing about that BBC comedy they always watch.' Her eyes clouded with tears as she surveyed the frozen land before her.
They've got a Christmas tree up and her stocking hanging by the fire. They have their own knitted for them that look ridiculous but they insist on putting them on display along with all the pictures of her with Father Christmas, even the one's where she's too small and is crying. She wasn't there to help decorate the tree this year with them like always but they don't mind. Every craft she ever made is stuck on there proudly no matter how ancient and its complete minus the star on the top because of course her father will wait until she gets home to do that. They smile and say to each other they wonder when Hermione is coming home. It's almost Christmas Eve.
Tears sting her cool cheeks as she closes her eyes and swallows a sob.
She is coming just as soon as she can, mum and dad. She'll be there soon enough and be rid of this monster. And they are happy and drinking cider that isn't sweet enough and are not buried under some frozen ground in a place miles from her. She tells them mentally that she is not disappointed she didn't get a puppy because she never really wanted one and she should never have thrown that fit when she didn't get one that year, but they no longer care about that silly thing. In fact, they tell her, they can't recall a single fight.
Pressing her forehead to the cool glass is soothing and she half sits on the sill bench of the massive window. The grounds are lovely all covered in fog. It's going to rain the thunder above warns her. She can feel the rumble through the glass and the shudder continues through her. She longs to feel its vibration again. She wants it to rain.
Mum is asking if she should make the Pumpkin bread now and dad says of course because its Hermione's favorite and it should be ready when she arrives. They eat it every year. How stupid, she thinks, they hate it. She should never have went on and on about it. Once again, they don't really mind the pumpkin bread. The Grangers are teasing each other about their gifts in the warm home that was not destroyed in a fire set by Death Eaters. Hermione really should be on now, they say.
They are right, she thinks, I should be home instead of here wasting my life. I should have been home with them that rather than with my friends. They were my family. I should have been with them!
In anger she clenches her fists painfully tight. She wishes the fingernails pressing into her palm would slice through the skin, bleed. And then a sudden noise behind her catches her attention and makes her heart leap. She had to blink twice to make sure it was there and not just a coincidental illusion. A puppy? It was a Jack Russell Terrier, sniffing at the base of a pedestal which had a very fine vase which was teetering precariously. She steadied it with a swish of her wand and called quietly to the adorable pup which scampered excitedly her way. She extended a hand evenly as Draco had showed her. The animal sniffed her frantically and she felt herself begin to smile as the wet nose tickled her palm. Its tail began to wag a little as it friendlily licked her and that's when she spotted it. The tail was forked. At first she just thought it odd but as the pup began to growl faintly at her, unsure of whether it liked her or not, she recalled something from Hagrid's class. A crump was a magical animal that strongly resembled a Jack Russell, but had a forked tail and, if she remembered correctly, hated muggles. Seems the kind of pet Malfoy's family may have.
Carefully, she tried to move away from it but it snarled and yipped at her feet. She shushed it in vain, trying to maintain secrecy and avoid detection, as she hurried toward her door. Something tapping on the glass made her look back even though it gave the animal a great opportunity to nip at her ankle. It was raining. She cried out softly in pain and scolded the pup, turning sharply to race away. Things did not go as planned. Instead of stealing down the hall, she collided with a heavy figure before her. Her body stiffened with worry. She leaned back with a great sense of dread to survey whoever it was she had just ran into, well aware that it could be any number of foul and dangerous people. Her fearful glance was met instead by a figure altogether pleasing and breathtaking.
He was handsome, darker than most of the Malfoy clan with sparkling eyes: Raphael, the angel.
"Excuse me," she said shyly. "I'm terribly sorry."
"Excuse me." He said smiling, but moving to block her escape. Her breath caught. Taking her arm, he escorted her to her door suavely. At the door he paused, still holding onto her. Something shifted in her gut. Move away, it warned her but she was frozen. He was awfully close to her she noticed. Leaning in, the young man seemed to be trying to inhale the scent of her hair. Entirely uncomfortable and not looking for trouble she thanked him kindly and all but rushed into her room. She did not hesitate to lock the door. That was just odd. She thought he was attractive, but what business did he have being so flirtatious with her? He had been so sure of himself that time. Maybe it had not been Raphael at all, the brothers were triplets after all. She could not explain her vexation over the brief encounter that persisted throughout her lunch and bath. Her attention was soon diverted yet again however by a rap at her door. She opened it cautiously half expecting to see a tall, handsome celestial being only to find a put out looking Draco had surprised her at her door with a box her thrust forth uninterestedly. She didn't really want to open it at all, but she had to suffice her curiosity. She could no more stop herself from opening that box if it could have held all the evil of the world in it than she could hold in the gasp when she saw what lay inside. Even when she hugged him, showed her gratefulness, he did not understand. He could not understand. Her parents had been dentists. She'd never gone without, but they were not people prone to materialistic and glamorous gifts. Theirs had always been practical. Those who knew her best, bought her books as presents, but this meant he did see something behind that nose buried in a volume. A girl, as Ron would point out after knowing her for four years.
What's worse, so much had been counting on the evening dinner and she had no fine jewelry. She knew she'd look a pauper next to Narcissa's pearls and everyone's diamonds, but she could do nothing. Now she would look worthy, classy enough. It was an extravagant gift, but it wasn't how much he spent that took her by surprise. She was pleased that on his day off he even thought of her at all. He did not understand and she never dreamed he would, but at the very least she would not seem ungrateful.
Knobby helped her get ready. The elf was apparently a prodigy with hair and make-up and Hermione sorely wished she had asked for her help before. Her own image in the mirror surprised her. She had never looked more like a movie star in her life. She thanked the elf exceedingly and made a mental note to pay her back even though she refused any such thing and cried profusely when Hermione gave her a hug.
To top it all off, Draco had called her stunning. That was odd. She could not tell if he meant it or he felt he should say it. He did look devilishly handsome and she had to give him credit though it pained her to inflate his ego any further. His appeal was beginning to grate on her nerves truth be told but they had been on the same side as she tried to cool her flaming cheeks and gather her sense before entering the magnificent dinning hall. Their flabbergasted faces as they stared at her were all she could have asked for for Christmas.
The room was quite different from the night of their engagement party. It was far more formal then celebratory. The colors were the same deep red as her dress along with black, white, and a very dark shade of green. It went perfectly with the Christmas tree that reached nearly fourteen feet towards the high ceiling. The private orchestra had taken her by surprise. They were positioned slightly to the side, out of the way. The table had been full, and, just as she suspected, its inhabitants glistened with diamonds, pearls, rubies, and emeralds. Clad in their finest winter dress robes, the Malfoy family was seated along the long wooden table with Lucius at the head. Draco, the heir, sat opposite him with Hermione at his side. She was immensely thankful that this gathering did not include any of Narcissa's relatives, namely Bellatrix. She was further thankful to find that no one really spoke to her. In some other instance she would have been insulted, but as it was she could not bring herself to feel anything but relieved.
Those present did include all three brothers Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael along with their parents Rosaline and Claudius. Lucius was an only child, Draco had told her, Claudius was his grandfather's brother. His three sons were unmarried and had no children or no legitimate ones anyway. Lucius's father, however, did have two sisters and a brother who all had children Lucius' age. Their children included Gregory Crabbe as well as several other Slytherins Hermione recognized, apparently Draco's cousins. Pansy Parkinson was silent from her seat nearby and threw only one hateful glance at Hermione. She was apparently to be married to another of Draco's cousins. Perhaps she had done it to make him jealous. It seemed she came out with the poor end of that deal. That young man was terribly thin but also aggressive. Hermione only saw her make use of one of her gloved wrists the entire night. She actually felt sorry for her. At least Draco had never been violent.
That group she recalled meeting at the party, but everyone else was a mystery. They were all very Malfoy like, pale and arrogant. Dinner was brought out by a mass of house elves and later dessert carts as well. Hermione knew every bit of etiquette imaginable, who was seated first and last, who ate first. The meal went on without a hitch. Draco and she exchanged smiles, hers more strained than his and then Grandmother Agalia had entered.
She was a very old woman, one hundred and two to be exact Draco informed her, and she was shown the utmost respect. Everyone rose and hushed when she entered in mid meal pushed in a chair by a house elf and everyone spoke to her, kissing her hand. She smiled blankly, confused by dementia or poor hearing perhaps. Still, even in her age she possessed an air of grace Hermione would never hold a candle to. The woman seemed kind, if a little distant.
From across the table she caught a familiar face staring at her. She met the gaze and when neither looked away she was met by a charming smile. She returned it in earnest, happy to see somewhat less hostility in their glances towards her. Next to his brothers she was sure he was Raphael. Then, without warning, everything went to rot. In a hurry. Draco's hand clamped tightly on her own. She winced.
Not long after her arrival the dessert carts had been rolled out and that's when her wonderful masquerade fell to pieces. Placed before her by her thoughtful little elf was the most delicious looking pumpkin bread she had ever seen. It steamed and the aroma wafting of it was sweet. There was cinnamon on the top glaze and it was sliced neatly to reveal the cream cheese swirl inside. Draco was looking ravenously at his German chocolate cake and she could not catch his eye to signal they needed to be excused. She did not dare make a noise but soldiered on, tears streaming down her perfectly powdered face as she sipped from her wind glass. The sob threatening to burst forth nearly choked her as she swallowed. She stared very hard at her white napkin telling herself to snap out of it. Control, Hermione, control. A trembling lip was difficult to bite. She looked up to spy Lucius starring directly at her. Cutting daintily from his own pecan pie, he watched her coldly, smiling sadistically at her tears as if daring her to speak. Looking away in displeasure she clapped a napkin to her mouth to hide her tears and muffle her small cry. Next to her Draco finally noticed her distress. He seemed to be choking on his cake. He looked at her with horror etched on his face. It looked as though his mouth had suddenly gone very dry. His meaning was clear: what is wrong with you? Do not do this!
Lucius voice drawled form the head of the table, addressing his son.
"Did you enjoy your trip to London today Draco?" he asked.
"Yes, father." answered Draco obediently. Something in his voice sounded tight.
"And your guests?"
"I hope so."
"Draco was quite the gentleman this morning. I dare say both Gouges were taken with his charming demeanor." His wife put in from beside him. Draco audibly gulped. Lucius paused a moment, then gave Naricissa a cold, indecipherable look. She looked at him for a moment emotionlessly, then down. The conversation changed. Hermione clenched her dress under the table. She could not help it. Rapidly, she was breaking. Gouge? Morrissa Gouge? Did he really leave her here to go off shopping with that snobby gorgeous girl, his ex-fiancée? Was she with him when he bought the barrette? And she had been so flattered he had thought of her. Maybe they had been making fun of her. Perhaps Draco had been embarrassed by the very thought of her having no fine jewelry to wear tonight. What a fool she had surely looked then!
She did not care about the humiliation or the consequence of crying. She was ready to bawl like a baby and throw a tantrum. She wanted to go home! She wanted her parents. She didn't want to play anymore. Then, as if by a miracle, he saw it. He understood.
His hand took hers and stroked the top gently. Lifting the fork to her lips, he gave her a bite of his chocolate cake. She closed her eyes as she took it, unable to contest. Instantly, she felt a little better. Taking deep breaths, she mustered courage she didn't know she had.
A few tense moments passed and all was as it should be. She had chocolate cake before rather than Pumpkin bread and she could pretend to be pleased she until spotted one person watching her with concern rather than anger and it was not her fiancée. Raphael nodded towards her ever so slightly as if to indicate his question. She smiled at him, licking her fork happily to show she was much better now. He looked away shyly and she realized what the gesture insinuated. She blushed. A fork nearby dropped with a soft clank.
He had excused them before she knew what was going on. With a painfully firm hold on her elbow he led her from the room, stopping just short of making a scene. Outraged and embarrassed and a lot of other similar feeling Hermione followed obediently until the door shut behind them. They rounded each other in seconds like hungry lions.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Draco hissed.
"What?" asked Hermione innocently.
"What are you playing at with my cousin?"
"Why Draco, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous." She would have been amused had he not just drug her from the dining room in front of everyone. It was just a harmless smile after all, a faint blush.
"Jealous?"
"That's right." She told him boldly, rubbing her elbow.
"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into," he growled.
"I think I do actually. A scandalous affair, not unlike the one you encouraged today, in public Draco! After all we've done to build our image…"
"Then you're more stupid then I ever dared to dream."
"What? Stupid? How dare you." She was moving toward livid and she was making the move with astounding speed.
"You don't know anything about them."
"I know they're Malfoys. I'm sure they're just leading me on, or maybe they're just using me? Is that it? Maybe I don't care. Maybe I'm using them too!" She wasn't sure where all that was coming from, but she let it out anyway.
"But for the same reason?" He inquired with an air of malice.
She jerked back her hand and, before she knew what she was doing, she heard the resounding smack that could only be the result of her palm connecting forcefully with Draco's pale skin. She looked up at him with horror and realization.
His fury was beyond words, his face contorted in rage almost beyond recognition. He grabbed her by the wrists and shook her forcefully. His eyes were burning like smoke again, his own arms shaking with the effort to control his rage. She wondered if perhaps no one had ever struck him before. She waited, her fear of him and what he might be capable of steadily mounting, to hear what insult or threat he would shout in response. When none came, and his anger still did not diminish, Hermione grew truly frightened. There seemed to be only one thing she could do.
"Draco, I-I'm-" He cut her off her apology, not with words, but with a physical manifestation of hatred. He spat in her face.
Whatever delusion she had previously felt regarding his state of fury being attractive was wiped away. She gasped and pulled violently from him, trying to free her stinging wrists. He did not let go.
Instead, he pulled her from the hallway, not in the direction of their rooms, but towards the area of the house she knew to contain the library. Hermione drug her feet and pushed his chest, trying in vain to get free, and yelling for someone to help or for him to stop. As he dragged her through the open doors into the library, pushed her from him, and shut the heavy doors behind him, Hermione was quaking with fear. She had never been struck by a man before but she was well aware she may have just pushed him too far and was afraid it may be that she was about to find out what it was like to be struck by someone twice her strength. She never thought he had the guts.
The glistening quarter moon above her was the only light to the room until Draco lit a desk lamp. She gazed at the starry skies above her, looking for comfort, but found them burning violently in the darkness and looking livid as they moved with the swelling motion of the angry sea. The dragon, in particular, burned bright. Still on the floor, she moved her gaze to the stationary, moodless carpet, drawing a shaky breath. She did not look up as Draco moved in front of her, still audibly panting in his fit of rage. Then, at long last, he spoke.
"Have a seat, Miss Granger."
"W-what?"
"I SAID TAKE A BLOODY SEAT!"
It did not occur to Hermione to disobey his request. She pulled herself into the chaise as he sat down across from her the armchair by the fire, chest still heaving. As he turned to the fireplace and lit it, she took advantage of the moment his head was turned to wipe her face.
"I will tell you this one thing, Granger, this one secret, and then will never speak of my family again, do you understand?"
She nodded, not really understanding it at all, in shock. His family? It took him a moment to collect his thought, or his courage- for it was difficult to tell which- and he began.
"Do you recall my great uncle Claudius, my father's uncle, my grandfather's brother?" She nodded for him to continue.
"Do you remember his wife?"
Hermione thought for a moment. "Small, meek lady. White hair. Dressed as a fairy. Rosaline, was she called?"
"That's right."
"Beautiful older woman, very quiet."
"She's deaf."
"Oh."
"Yes and barren."
"Barren? But I thought she was mother to Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel."
"Yes, she was."
"I don't understand." For the first time since they entered the room, he met her eyes. Hurriedly, he glanced around the room and stared hard at the door, as if expecting them to be interrupted. He frowned and then cast two spells in quick succession, one to lock the door and another to keep them from being overheard. Then, he dimmed the lamp on the table so that the only light in the room was from the moon on the ceiling and the fireplace. Such lighting resulted in an eerie glow and long, stalking shadows being thrown about. The room was somewhat foreboding and did nothing to calm her beating heart. His voice became low and whispering, as if the walls might overhear.
"Did you notice how much difference there was between the age of my father and his cousins? If Claudius is my grandfather's younger brother, then his children should be roughly the same age as him, right? But they are younger than my father. In fact, they're young enough to be my father's children. Do the math Granger. Even if my grandfather was older than his brother by several years and Claudius married a woman far younger than him the children would still be a bit older then Nyphandora Tonks, wouldn't they? Odd isn't it?"
Hermione only frowned in response, her curiosity mounting.
"The healers told Rosaline years ago, after her and Claudius tried to have children, that she was barren. She was devastated, as was her husband. They went to healers all over the world of all types of practices. No one could help. As they started to grow older, they got more and more desperate. Uncle Claudius located a gypsy healer. As you know Gypsy magic is not only strange and ancient but, some believe, it's cursed. Gypsies aren't acknowledged by the ministry or granted entrance into Hogwarts. Not even the great Dumbledore feels it would be safe or practical to have them in the school.
"They teach their own customs and magic amongst themselves. Some magical creatures, like Goblins and Centaurs, claim gypsies have stolen knowledge from them and the two have long been enemies of their kind. Although most of the great seers in our history have been gypsies, many purebloods consider it a disgrace to consult gypsy healers, so it was done in secret. "
Most of the information on gypsies Hermione had already read though they were largely left out of History of Magic lectures, and there wasn't much about them in the library either. Hermione thought it very odd indeed that Dumbledore would deny a certain group of people entrance into his school, even with the odd superstitions and customs the Gypsies had. Perhaps he considered their practices dark at best though many held Catholic beliefs in addition to their ancient crafts. She knew that he too regarded Divination as a fairly wooly subject. Something Draco said brought her quickly out of her musing on Gypsies.
"She was pregnant within the month. They were very happy." Hermione could not conceal her look of shock. She had thought, from most of her reading, that gypsies were mostly full of it when it came to their magical cures.
"After some time, my Uncle began to worry though and he went back to the gypsy. He told the gypsy that to make his wife fertile was not enough. He wanted more then one child. He also sought magic to ensure that the child was healthy and did not lack the sense his mother did. The gypsy woman was kind and liked the strange, meek Rosaline, so she told her she would not only impregnate her, but also make it so she could have many children. In addition, the children would, rather than lack a sense, each have one extra. It would cost a great deal of gold, but my uncle assured her money was no object."
"A sixth sense?" Hermione questioned skeptically. He nodded and went on with the story.
"After visiting a healer they learned they were to have twins." Again Hermione was puzzled. There should be three. Perhaps one of the boys came later.
"However, the next time, there were four babies in the womb and the third time there were six. The healers were puzzled. Apparently, it's not supposed t happen like that."
'No,' thought Hermione. 'It's not. Usually multiple births are created by the woman releasing more than one egg in an ovulation, the fertilized egg dividing into copies of the same genetic material, or a combination of both spontaneous events happening at once. This sort of instance was unheard of and scientifically impossible. Had there been an ultrasound, she would have assumed the doctors missed the others at first, but since it was done by magic, they could only have appeared afterwards. Strange. Probably some kind of dark magic,' she concluded.
"Six." stressed Draco, looking at her again, this time with an expectant expression. "You recognize the significance?" She nodded and swallowed. She wished he would stop speak in such a hushed voice.
"People began to talk, suspecting he had seen a gypsy. It was a blessing his father was dead before then, or he would have been outraged when he found what his son had done. My grandfather, Claudius' brother, Titus stood by his brother. He said it was a blessing that no one was to question. Claudius feared for his wife's life though, because even then she was a small, frail woman. How could she give birth to six healthy children and live? Claudius, a stubborn eccentric with a terrible temper was furious with the gypsy and thought she had played a trick on him. He thought his wife would die as a result of her crookedness in an attempt to get paid for each of the babies and their senses. He should have expected as much from a gypsy though, they're known for it. He sought out the gypsy a third time and yelled at her that she was crook and refused her payment."
Hermione let out a small gasp with her hand upon her mouth. Of all the lure, folklore, and lies surrounding the society, Gypsies are best known for the curses they place upon those that break their word in a business arrangement.
"Rosaline went into labor and that night she gave birth to three healthy children and three still born." Hermione, hand still on her mouth, felt her eyes water. "The odd thing was the miscarried babies were not just small and still and cold, they were bruised and broken. If the wounds had been sustained by the mother, she would have shown signs as well, as would the three healthy infants, but they did not." As she listened, Hermione felt she may be sick at any moment all over the rug.
"The old woman killed them?"
"That's certainly what my grandfather and great uncle thought, so they hunted her down, tortured, and eventually killed her, but with her very last breaths on this earth she assured them that she never meant for the children to be harmed. She told my uncle it was his own greed, for more children, for special magic, and for his own money that damned his children. She claimed that she did not harm them, but instead, instilled within three of them avarice, hatred, aggression, and spite in their hearts. Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel, my uncle's heirs, possessed the same traits he had showed the gypsy. They were present even in the womb. Rosaline never would have died, the Gypsy assured them; she had no reason to punish Rosaline.
"In a maddened state it is said that Claudius asked her how his children died then, calling her a murderer. She cried that it was a mistake and told him the story of the bull shark."
"The bull shark?"
"Yes. Are you familiar with it?"
"No."
"A female bull shark produces two baby sharks per pregnancy. Only one is born. In a Spartan effort to assure the strength and evolution of a race, the two sharks will fight one another in the womb. The stronger one wins and feeds off his brother until he is born."
"Are you saying that Raphael, Michael, and Gabriel killed their brothers in the womb?"
"No."
"No?"
"They killed their sisters."
"Oh." Hermione let out a half sob.
"They hate women, except their mother. None of them are married, though handsome, powerful and pureblood. They seemed kind and flirty enough, but underneath there is nothing but hate, greed, avarice, spite, aggression…"
"Raphael?"
"Raphael is the Bellatrix of the Malfoy side of my family. He's seems shy and quiet, because he's kept restrained and quiet. If not, he gets out of control. They don't tell his mother. It would break her delicate heart. He has a taste for the bizarre. For years, times when the Dark Lord was strong, they just kept him moving, so that no muggles catch on when too many young women disappear from one town."
Hermione shuddered. "He looks so innocent."
"Looks can be deceiving. It's not innocence in his sparkling eyes, Granger, its madness. "
"Why doesn't the ministry catch on?"
"The ministry doesn't have much communication with muggle local law enforcement. From what I understand, it is not that often of an occurrence now anyway."
"Your whole family just, just, covers for him?" Hermione asked, disgusted.
"They're just a few muggles sluts." Draco responded dismissively.
"I'm a muggle."
"Yes, but not a slut. I dare say you're still a virgin."
"So what if I am? There's nothing wrong with that!" she replied smartly, but her cheeks grew pink.
"No. I want my wife to be a virgin."
"What?"
"That's why I would have never married Pansy. Real pureboods raise their daughters to be respectable and loyal. I could never touch a girl who'd been with anyone else."
She was astonished.
"They don't hold their boys to the same standard, I see."
"Men's loyalties are required in other ways. Besides, you can't really tell if a man's lying about it or not. A girl on the other hand…"
Not liking where conversation was veering, Hermione changed the direction quickly, bringing up something nagging her.
"So the boys, their sixth senses, do they really have them?" Draco did not answer right away, but rather looked her hard in the face at length. She had never seen him look so searchingly or serious before.
"Yes. In fact it is Raphael's unique ability that keeps him in well with the family in spite of his demented, sick tendencies." His voice was laden with disgust. "He can smell un-pure blood."
"That's impossible."
"I assure you it's true. He's not unlike his damned dogs. He did smell you didn't he? Why do you think he was staring at you? He could sense it." Hermione looked down.
"Michael can spot a lie from the truth. Even the most accomplished occlumens in the world cannot look him in the eye and lie. Not the Dark Lord, not Dumbledore, not Snape…"
"Gabriel?" Hermione asked, surprised to find her voice tearful. "What can he sense?"
"Innocence and guilt. No one can hide their secrets from the angels of justice."
"Angels of justice?"
"That's what they're called. They're named for angels: Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael."
"Faust."
"What?"
"The angels in Faust."
"That's right."
"I'm not going back in there."
"All right."
She had expected more of an argument. "All right?"
"Go to bed. I'll make your excuses."
"So you were trying to protect me."
For half a second, he looked as though he had taken himself by surprise, then he quickly recovered, hiding all signs in his token smirk.
"I don't like to share." He sneered.
Furious and indignant beyond anything she had ever experienced, she leapt to her feet again. He mirrored her action quickly. They met in the center of the room in a fraction of a second. Pride shinning stubbornly and hate blazing in each of their eyes, fury etched in each of their faces, anger pulsating so strongly they could feel the heat of it in the small gap between their bodies, they faced each other for a moment. After an intense, breathless silence, Hermione hissed into his fire-lit face: "You disgust me!"
"I hate you," he growled into the darkness.
"I loath your complete existence!" she exclaimed in a hushed yell
"I loath my very existence because I exist with you!"
"Likewise."
Darkness has an effect on people, like secrets. Like fear. It pulls things out of them they did not formerly know, and they find themselves doing something with sudden ease they never dreamed they were capable of doing. In that moment, those two were in a strange darkness, afraid of everything around them. Their secrets had plunged forth, the truth was out, their anger leapt front and center, and then lust rose up in Hermione like the smoke in Draco's burning eyes. It was his fury that made him so handsome, and although she didn't like it, the fear of it combined with the darkness, made her bold. She grabbed his face, as if to return the favor and spit in it, but instead pressed her lips forcefully to his. She expected to be pushed away, but had no intention going quietly. She never felt such unadulterated want.
He did not pull away. It was easy to forget yourself in the dark. Perhaps the fire lighting her face so violently was what created the heat in him. She had made him angry, and yet, he so enjoyed teasing her. He was teasing her when he opened his warmth mouth in the kiss, but she obliged hungrily. Their tongues flicked like the flames behind them. She breathed deeply and he licked her lips again, kissing softly to urge her into continuing. There was no need. She drug her teeth tenderly along his lower lip thinking vaguely that this was exceptionally odd the way that as this was so possible, almost funny. Without her consent, his hands grabbed a hold on her by the ribs, his fingers dug in. Then, rather than the desperate and delicate tasting, sucking on the tongue, and pull on the lips, Draco put the tip of her tongue in between his teeth. He held it in place, gently at first, and began to bite down upon it. It was gradual, but he reached the point where she almost cried. Hermione, who had never tasted pain she enjoyed, kissed him gratefully, her chest trembling with a silent moan she had never known she possessed. The rhythm was easy to fall into, the taste rewarding.
Sense seemed to come to them after only a few rushed seconds. They broke apart, gasping for breath and trying to steal themselves once more to the other's effect. Quiet suddenly, Hermione lightened the room, removed the charms upon the door, and moved a step away. Draco looked at her wonderingly, until the door to library swung open.
Lucius Malfoy stood there, looking nothing shy of furious. Draco practically jumped at his father's entrance. Hermione avoided his eyes, a painful bubble of fear swelling tightly in her chest.
"How dare he?"
"Father?"
"Your cousins have left my home Draco. They disgrace the name of Malfoy….what is she doing in here?" he stopped his rant when he caught sight of Hermione in his family library.
"Leaving," Draco answered with surprising speed and cleverness. " I've just had to show her a little something about whose boss."
"Oh yes, well, send her away," he urged, uninterested.
Holding in her sigh of relief, she left hurriedly. Not bothering to try to eavesdrop, she went straight to her room. She was trying not to feel resentful, or curious, or ashamed, or lustful, or anything really. She had truly underestimated how difficult it was to empty oneself of emotions. Harry had been right.
Then she thought of Harry and Ron at the burrow or Grimmauld place and wondered how they were doing. She missed them dreadfully. With her family gone, her friends were more important to her than ever. She hoped they would make up when they returned to school, once they had received the letters she risked sending them, concealed within their Christmas presents. Trying again not to think of would happen if they did not make up, she put her mind matters of business, Order business.
She would need to record that Draco had warned her about the brothers without revealing everything he had shared, as his father would read it. Regretfully, she would also have to lie about Draco putting her in her place. Would she leave out the kiss? Lucius may like it, but what about the Order, Harry, and Ron? How would they react to hear what had just happened in the library of Malfoy Manor?
She recalled Harry's last words to her. Was she deceiving herself? Was she losing control? The ghost of Draco's lips pressed upon hers made her consider that notion. What would have happened if she had not heard the footsteps and they had been discovered? What would have happened if they had not been interrupted at all? She shuddered.
That could not happen again. She would not lose herself in this farce or be fooled by Malfoy. She would not turn away from her friends for any reason, at any cost, ever. She would not throw away her sacrifice, her parents and Snape's just because she was lonely and hormonal and starving for affection. She would not let their suspicions be proven right. Whether they trusted her or not did not matter. What mattered was that they could.
Smiling at her realization, she quickened her pace towards her bedroom. It was with a strange jolt that something occurred to her as she half noticed the decorations in the hall and the clock chiming midnight: it was Christmas Eve.
A/N: At last-the kiss! I do hope you liked it. Not a fairy tale kiss, but aw well. This chapter was originally called "The Three Brothers", but I decided to make it more of a surprise. I've been dying to tell that part for a while. Also I know Hermione looked a little weak in some parts, but I thought it was an appropriate time to bring grief into the picture. I can't wait to show what happens next so please review!