The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming ownership.
Their return to Malfoy Manor via the floo network had been a tricky one, with Draco becoming increasingly unresponsive. She was unsure whether it was due to drunkenness or pensiveness, but regardless, she had dragged him out of the fireplace and pushed him in the direction of the armchair. He now sat there in a daze, his head lolling against his chest. She scowled. Dealing with drunk men was not something she had signed up for.
She glanced at the half-consumed bottle of firewhiskey, tempted to end her own night in a drunken stupor. She had been such a fool, rushing to Alnwick unannounced to check on Harry's wellbeing. Despite what Draco protested, she had never seen any proof or mention of demons past the dark ages in her reading. It was unlikely that Lucius Malfoy had somehow stumbled onto a method to summon the magical creatures, let alone knew of a spell to trap and manipulate one.
Draco groaned, shifting his position in the chair so his face was completely pressed against the leather back. She rolled her eyes and thought back to the large, welcoming bed upstairs. Metres away from pure, fluffy bliss. Draco groaned again and slipped down the chair, pooling onto the floor at her feet.
She couldn't very well leave him alone like this. What choice do I have?
The compromise had been very much on her side, at least in Hermione's opinion. With the help of a spell to make Draco feather-light, she had dragged him up the stairs and to the guest suite. To her dismay, he had chosen that point to awake from his stupor and had climbed straight into her bed, oblivious to his surroundings. Further attempts to awaken him had been futile, and she certainly wasn't going to sleep on the floor in her room.
When she was awoken by Draco the next morning, she realised what a stupid idea it had been. Clearly, her common sense had also been impeded by the firewhiskey. She had been on the verge of waking up naturally when Draco woke her up, nuzzling into her neck and pressing up against her. Annoyed, she had twisted to face him but found that he was still asleep, his body clinging to her on auto-pilot. She flicked him in the nose, jolting him awake.
Draco was shaken, quickly retreating to the opposite side of the bed in confusion. He pulled the covers up to his neck, trying to hide himself and stared at her, wide-eyed. As he began to awake fully, he untensed and smirked at her. 'Did you take advantage of me, Granger?'
She let out a displeased noise and flipped the cover from herself, exposing the pair to the cool morning air. Draco gasped, trying to reclaim the blanket and cover himself. She climbed from the bed, brushing down her dress from the night before. It was a little creased from being slept in and she moved over to the wardrobe, hoping to find a suitable replacement. 'You made a fool out of me, last night,' Hermione shouted back to him, over her shoulder.
'Huh?'
Hermione smiled to herself and abandoned the wardrobe, moving over to the curtains. She ripped them open to reveal the morning light, making Draco swear. It had been petty, but hey, it wasn't her fault he was hungover. She had the full intention of returning to her clothes search, when she heard noise outside the window. Frowning, she moved up to the glass and stared out.
'What on earth...' she mumbled to herself. Her bedroom no longer possessed a country-view, looking out onto the sloping valleys and forests. Instead she could see the Shard, and a variety of other familiar buildings that suggested they were in London. They weren't wholly familiar however, being more grey and dreary than she remembered. She frowned. 'I could have sworn...'
Draco had crawled out of bed, borrowing her robe to hide his dishevelled clothes. His eyes widened upon seeing the view as well, making Hermione feel a little less mad. She stared hard at him.
'We were in the countryside, weren't we?' Draco said nothing, his eyes focussed on the bustling city outside his window. 'Did we get out at the wrong fireplace?'
Draco looked worried but remained silent. He turned on his heel and headed for the bedroom door and she found herself drawn after him. She struggled to keep up with his pace as they descended the stairs and re-entered the study. It was not as it had been the night before; all comforting décor was gone, replaced by how she'd imagined it had once looked. Draco's eyes were fixed on the far end of the room and she turned from inspecting the furnishings to follow his gaze.
Impossible. He's dead.
Lucius Malfoy sneered at his son, his arms folded. 'My boy, what are you wearing?' He asked, his voice tinged with distaste. His look contorted upon seeing Hermione, the ferocity of his gaze scaring her. She reached out for Draco instinctively, her hand clinging to the back of the robe. 'Who is this?' Lucius asked, moving from around the stone desk to face the pair. Hadn't he recognised her?
Draco was struggling for words beside her, struck mute by the resurrection of his abusive father. Lucius was unimpressed by his son's silence and turned his enquiring gaze to Hermione. He held out his hand for hers and she obliged, grimacing internally as he brought it up to his lips to kiss.
'It is a pleasure to meet you, my girl, even if my son has been rather rude about introducing you. Who are you?' She pulled her hand back to her side.
'I...' she was cut off by Draco.
'She's my cousin, four times removed on Aunty Bellatrix's side. Don't you remember?' He blurted, lying. His hand moved backwards to grip hers, willing her to play along with the deception.
'Hmm. Well, run along, Draco.' He gave Hermione a false smile. 'We'll talk later,' he added under his breath, threatening his son. Draco bowed his head quickly and pulled her out the door.
She expected to be led back up to her room, desperate for some kind of explanation about what had just happened. Instead, she found herself being led towards the dungeons.