Now, no one really thought it would be smooth sailing, did they? I did some research at the Lexicon, and it says that Seamus Finnigan is from Galway, Ireland. I haven't yet had the pleasure of visiting, but some of the phrasing in this chapter I got from my girlfriend who lives in Belfast, Ireland. Forgive me for any inaccuracies, as I am not, myself, Irish. I'm trying to keep Seamus' dialogue different than the others, so hopefully it's not too bad. In this installment, Dramione get caught by an unwitting Irishman, and Draco battles with his emotions. Warning – explicit adult content near the end. ;)
LCailan
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
As she kissed him, Hermione made the irritating realization that Malfoy's all-consuming mouth had the uncanny ability to stop time. At least, time as far as she was concerned. This became startlingly real when a voice broke the two apart.
"Sure, me eyes be deceivin' me!"
The exclamation was part laugh and part gasp, and Hermione turned quickly, still in the circle of Malfoy's arms, to see the sandy-haired young man standing nearest to them, his brown eyes wide.
"Hermione Granger, it is you! Thought I was going mental, I was!"
She tore away from Malfoy, her heart melting at the sight of another familiar face in her all too unfamiliar surroundings. She was too shocked to see him to pay mind to the fact that the Polyjuice had clearly worn off.
Seamus Finnigan was staring back at her, wearing the black and white of the serving staff, and holding an empty, silver serving platter. His eyes were wide with surprise, and a smile played on his mouth.
"Seamus!"
She gasped his name before they embraced, Hermione holding tightly, as if he had, at one time, been her dearest friend. Indeed, it wasn't hard to imagine how anyone with whom she had once exchanged even the simplest pleasantries could not be called a dear friend now.
Draco glared at the couple, looking around the small hallway, praying that no one else come out to see what was happening. The anxiety at getting caught and the irritation at Granger's obvious joy finally caused him to snap.
"Well, how about that? If it isn't one of Ireland's biggest berks," he drawled, eyes snapping.
"Go and shite, Malfoy!" Seamus replied tersely. "It's not much I be caring what ya think of me!"
Draco folded his arms across his chest tensely, giving him one last glare before turning towards Hermione.
"Here."
The word wasn't a suggestion as much as it was an order, and Hermione took the vial of pearly liquid, giving Seamus a helpless look.
"I can explain," she said, hesitating.
Seamus' eyes flickered from Hermione to the vial and back at Hermione, as he ignored Draco.
"It's this one that be forcing ya, Hermione? What are ya doing here and with him?"
Hermione felt a flood of shame wash over her, and it was strange, for she hadn't felt it for weeks now. Somehow, when she was alone with Malfoy what she had done, and what she had offered him in exchange for his help didn't much matter. Only when the real world crept in, did everything seem to change.
"I…
Draco watched as Granger clung to the vial, but she didn't move to drink it, in fact, not moving at all. He wasn't sure why just this one act of evasiveness angered him, but, he felt it rushing through his veins.
"Granger, why don't you answer him?" he suggested in mock-kindness, his lips turning up into a sneer. "Or, don't worry about it. I will."
His grey eyes locked with the Irishman's.
"She's mine. So, sod off, Finnigan."
"Aye, right," muttered Seamus, rolling his eyes. "Sure, I don't believe ya."
Draco smirked, cocking his head.
"Don't you? That's too bloody bad then, isn't it? She's mine. Ask her. Ask her where she's staying now. Ask her about how she's been offering herself to me for months."
Hermione's head fell, her face burning with humiliation. Her words stuck in her throat, and try as she might, she wasn't able to get anything sensible past her lips, afraid to look up at Seamus and see displeasure and shock coloring his features. At one time, he had been her friend, and she had already seen too much shock and horror on the faces of her dear friends to last her a lifetime.
How dare he? How dare Malfoy make me look like a wanton whore?
Tears blurred her vision, and she managed to choke out words.
"That's not how it was."
She heard Malfoy offer up a sarcastic chortle.
"Oh, I'm pretty sure that's how it was, Granger. Now," he said and forced her to stand up straight. "Drink, before someone comes out here and blows our cover. I'll have you know, I paid a pretty pound for that sodding potion, and I don't want it going to waste!"
Hermione stared at Malfoy and then at Seamus, and she sighed. But, before she could do as Malfoy had requested, there was a commotion by the doorway.
In a flash, she felt Malfoy pushing her towards the door that led to the exit and she heard him cursing under his breath. She had only seconds to register her surprise at the sudden movement, and then she saw Seamus ducking into the hallway with her, pulling her down the cement staircase.
"This way!"
She followed, sparing only a look over her shoulder, wondering where Malfoy would go, and how she would find him again. Luckily, she was still clutching the small vial of pearl colored potion, which meant she had at least an hour to find him again. The option of escape never crossed her mind; were she to do that, Lily would be lost.
Seamus didn't stop until they had reached the bottom of the stairs, and breathing heavily, he lifted his face up towards the direction they had come.
"What's this all about, now, Hermione?"
She sank down onto the last cement step, wrapping her arms around herself as a shiver ran through her. She had no wrap, and the nights were growing cooler. As she sat, the cold from the cement seemed to seep into her bones.
"I'm so ashamed," she admitted, as she wiped away a stray tear from her eye. "It's not the way Malfoy said it is."
Seamus dropped down onto the step next to Hermione, offering his coat, which she took and wrapped around her bare shoulders with a grateful smile.
"Malfoy's word is blarney! It's not me who be believin' him."
Hermione took in a shaking breath, feeling a flood of warmth for the man who so easily trusted her word in a world where she had gotten used to her word meaning nothing.
"You're not gettin' off with him, are ya?"
Hermione closed her eyes.
"It's…it's complicated," she whispered. "He…he works for the Ministry. You've heard about the alienages?"
Seamus' face paled.
"Horrid places, sure. I read about them in The Prophet. Shoveling off the Muggle-borns like they be nothin' but trash."
Hermione sniffed and looked down at the dirty cemented ground.
"There's nothing for us anymore, Seamus. At least you…aren't stuck in that horrid prison. He's…he's the only one who has shown me any kindness."
She looked up at her old friend then, and saw the sadness and confusion in his eyes.
"Kindness, is it? This whole world be on its head, now, Hermione, when you be talkin' about Malfoy as kind."
His admission was followed by a heavy sigh as Seamus looked away from her, and then down at the ground.
"Did it all arseways, I did."
Hermione frowned.
"Did what?"
"They came for me Da, half a year ago. Me mum had a meltdown, and I should have stayed, but I didn't. Was scared, sure. The Dementors gave Da the Kiss, and sometimes, I still go see me mum, but it's harder and harder to leave England, now. I send money, but it doesn't seem enough, to be sure."
Hermione put a hand on his shoulder.
"You're doing what you can. That's all any of us can do."
Her soft reminder fell on silence, and they sat like that a few moments. Then, Seamus looked up.
"They thought you dead, sure."
"What?"
"Percy said it be so."
Hermione's heart stopped beating, and then started up in furiousness and joy.
"P-percy? You've…seen…the Weasleys? Oh, thank God, they're alive?"
Seamus looked around the small stairway, but there was no sign of anyone but them. Then he looked back at Hermione, his eyes somber.
"If I tell ya, be promisin' me you won't tell anyone else, now."
Hermione searched his face but couldn't muster a reply in her shock, and finally settled on a vehement nod, clasping his hand for a moment.
"They broke out of that prison, they did. Arthur and Percy. They are in the country now, along with Dean and some of the others."
Hermione's heart hammered with joy and fear.
"And George?" she whispered emphatically, her eyes wide.
"No one be knowin' his whereabouts, Hermione. Though they are looking, they are."
She sagged against Seamus for a few silent moments, her heart hammering wildly.
"H-how do you know this?"
He offered a small chuckle.
"I told ya. I stay in London, even though I should be in Galway, with me mum. But I stay here, because they be needing me. We all met up, you know, in the same situation we were. Some of us are pure-bloods, some of us are half-bloods, and there's the Muggle-borns, but it's hard for them. Twice they came for us, they did. Most of us got away, we did. Takes more than a Ministry bloke to stop us!"
Hermione pulled away in time to see Seamus' cheeky grin.
"You're…you're all together? You and the Weasleys? And some of the others?"
He smiled.
"That be so."
She felt tears rolling down her face.
"You have to help the boys, Harry's boys, Seamus. They sent them to that awful place, too."
Seamus squeezed Hermione's fingers for a moment and then gave her the best news she had gotten in months.
"Don't ya be worrying none. The wee ones be fine. Sweet things, they are. Sure, just like their Da."
Hermione had little emotion left, for being at the alienage and all the time spend with Malfoy drained her significantly, but still she could not help the sobs of joy as she buried her face in her hands and cried. She felt the comforting touch of her old friend, and leaned into him for a long while, until there were no more tears, and she was left with just a strange feeling of warmth and relief.
"The boys told me their Ma was with you. But that was months ago, it was. No one knew if you be alive or not. That's why I thought when I saw ya, it was just a dream, ya know."
Hermione smiled thinly.
"She's been with me the whole time. She and Lily."
"How be the little one?"
Hermione swallowed, averting her eyes. In her newfound, bittersweet joy, the thought of poor Lily still stuck with Pansy Parkinson angered her even more, but she didn't want to share more than she had to, and with Malfoy-
"She's fine," Hermione finally whispered. "At least she will be, as soon as they let her leave that place."
Her jaw was firmly set and then Seamus spoke, his voice dropping.
"Dean told me about Justin, ya know. We knew he was in London, but we were too late, you see. They got to him before we did, and he got caught."
Hermione nodded, pressing her lips together.
"He's fine, Seamus. His daughter…she's gone, but he's…"
Seamus sighed.
"Aye, now. No one be truly fine."
"I know."
Her whisper echoed and then quickly faded just as the distant sound of a door banging way above them echoed against the cement walls of the stairwell. Both Seamus and Hermione fell silent, staring up towards the staircase as it winded up each floor above them. But no one came down the steps, and there were no other sounds.
"You could come with us, ya know."
Hermione looked at Seamus, wide eyed. For a moment, she pictured a situation in which she would agree immediately and then be taken away from Malfoy and the horrid alienage. But then, in the next moment, reality seemed to crash down around her.
"I can't," she whispered to him. "Not if Lily and Ginny aren't with me. But, thank you. It means the world to me that you risk yourself the way you do."
Seamus nodded and then leaned in to whisper against Hermione's ear.
"Tell Justin that we're comin' for him. Next month, it be."
Her eyes widened as she stared at him.
"Won't that be dangerous?"
He sighed.
"Sure, there is danger in every war, Hermione. But someone has ta fight against Voldemort. Otherwise, we'll all be lost, we will."
She was silent, watching him, and he locked her eyes with his.
"You'll tell him?"
She nodded her promise.
"When we come, you be ready to go too, ya hear?"
Her refusal to answer his plea spoke volumes, and Hermione's eyes traveled the stairs down which they had come. All was silent.
"He can't be trusted. Evil, that one is."
Hermione's eyes filled with hot tears.
"I don't trust him. I don't even want him!"
Seamus sighed.
"Aye, I understand. Sometimes, what choice do we have?"
Draco hadn't gone far when the tumult in the hotel hallway had begun. Shoving Granger and the Irish wanker down the stairwell had been easy and then pretending he had just had a major row with Astoria was convincing enough for his aunt. Pansy – well he figured she didn't believe him, but then again, she hardly believed much he said anyway. And he didn't rightly care anyhow. Once the two women were gone, he had slipped into the stairwell to go down after Granger. A part of him had been curious as to what Granger would do once away from him. Another part was afraid that she would, indeed, escape, even though that seemed too farfetched.
At first, there had been nothing but silence. Then, he heard her voice echoing in the empty, cement enclosed space.
I don't trust him. I don't even want him!
The words had stopped him in his tracks, and as they faded away, all Draco could hear was the pounding of his own heart.
Well, it's not like I didn't know that.
Her words, that reminder, however, did not sit well with him, even though Draco decided he wouldn't care. He forced himself to believe that, in spite of the strange ache in his heart.
She didn't want him. She didn't trust him.
I'm bloody fine with that, I am! Stupid Mudblood. Pretending like she's better than me. Listen to that! Shame in her voice, like she's done something wrong, when the entire time she's been throwing herself at me like some whore!
His hands gripped the railing of the staircase so tightly, his knuckles whitened. A storm of white-hot rage washed over him, nearly causing Draco to tremble.
I loathe her! What a stupid, worthless little bitch! How dare she not feel an ounce of gratefulness for everything I've done? I've stuck my bloody neck out for her! I've protected her! I've promised to help that stupid little Potter offspring and for what? She dares disrespect me? She dares bad-mouth me to the first sodding, self-righteous Gryffindor bastard that comes along?
Draco was hardly in any state to contemplate his growing, irrational thoughts. He refused to acknowledge the real source of his anger, but the infuriating voice in his mind refused to be silenced.
You want her to trust you.
No. No, he didn't. His jaw clenched tightly, his face pale with rage.
You want her to want you.
No. No, he hated her. He loathed her utterly, and in that moment, more than he loathed Parkinson and his own wife.
If you hate her, then be honest as to why.
But he couldn't, because the truth terrified him. It was a stark, icy terror, and it caused his breathing to catch. He was a coward; Draco knew that. He was running from a truth that he was afraid would catch up to him, overwhelm him. He was distracting himself in the arms of the same woman whom he was terrified of. In her arms, he didn't have to think about the rest of his world. In her arms, he could lose himself and not be found until he was stronger. Until everything made sense, if it ever would.
And she doesn't want you. She had no options, and so she turned to you. She saw your weakness. She saw your desire.
He trembled as he gazed down the long, winding stairwell. They were no longer talking, and his grip tightened even further, as if he were fortifying himself against the violent storm of his emotions.
I hate her.
But, did he?
Yes, in some ways, he did. He hated her because a woman like Hermione Granger should never have turned his head, and here he was, fighting feelings he didn't understand. He hated her because he had risked his life for her, and there had been no logical reason for his actions. He loathed her because she rendered him helpless each time she deemed to touch him. He despised her because she made him feel. She was a Mudblood, a nothing, a woman who was driven to desperation, and had sold herself and her dignity because it was all she had left to offer.
And yet, it was he who felt like he was not good enough.
And such an idea left him afraid and helpless.
She didn't want him. She didn't trust him.
Each of her words had been like sharp and jagged pieces of glass, tearing against his soul, even though he shouldn't have cared. For weeks now he had waited to be with her, in hopes that she would want him, and now, what did it matter?
She is a whore. And I have been a fool. She humiliates me. No more.
Swiping harshly at his watering eyes, livid that she should even render such emotion within him, Draco half ran, half stumbled down the stairwell, no longer caring if they heard him or not.
Granger may not have wanted him, but she was his, to do with as he pleased, and now rage drove Draco, white and blinding.
"Granger!"
He nearly tumbled to the bottom of the well, causing the two sitting on the steps to jump away lest he run over them in his haste.
He avoided any possibility of meeting her eyes, for they were his downfall.
"Get up, and get moving."
"Malfoy, I-"
"Shut it!"
The demand was harsh and panicked.
"Drink the bloody potion, and don't waste my time, Granger. The sodding party is over."
He gave Finnigan a smirk.
"My whore and I will be going now," he spat hatefully. "I'd share her, but I'm afraid tonight's a bad night. Perhaps if she needs something for you, you might just get lucky. After all, she's got nothing else left to offer anyone."
Draco heard Granger's choked gasp, but refused to look at her, his fists clenched at his sides.
"You're a worthless shite, you are."
Finnigan's eyes were snapping with rage, and somehow, that made Draco feel better. He offered what would have been a laugh, were it not so forced and tight.
"Perhaps, but at least, this worthless shite is going to get exactly what he wants tonight."
He turned towards her.
"Granger," he ordered.
She had drunk the potion and the fearful and tearstained eyes of his wife looked back at him. At least, in this countenance, he could look at her – for his wife had never stirred his emotions the way Granger did.
He turned back to glare at Finnigan.
"You say a word of this to anyone, and I'll have you first in line for the Dementors, Finnigan. You just wait and see. There's no room anywhere for half-blood, sympathizing, pieces of shit like you."
He whirled gracefully and then marched up the stairs, not looking to see if Granger would follow. He knew she would. She was that desperate. And tonight, he would take what he had wanted for months. Tonight, all was dark. Tonight, she didn't matter anymore. Only what he wanted.
The hotel room was swathed in darkness and shadows, the only light coming from the streetlamps outside, though they offered hardly any illumination. Draco didn't bother with the lamps, for he believed not seeing her face would be best. After all, it was simply an arrangement, wasn't it? There was nothing behind it, no feelings, no trust.
She'll be a worthless shag, and I'll be just like Flint, won't I? Maybe, that's just how it's supposed to be. Maybe I've been a fool about everything.
"What did Finnigan tell you, Granger?"
His words were cold and harsh, and he leaned against the wall nearest the bed, watching her, his eyes keen in the darkness.
"N-nothing."
Her lie was a terrified whisper, and he snorted, shaking his head.
"You dare lie to me?"
She did not answer, instead beginning to weep. The tears did nothing but fuel his rage.
"You make me sick," he hissed crossing the distance between them and forcing her face up, the light beyond the windows making the tears in her eyes glitter. "You fear me, and yet something else drives you more. Your disgusting, worthless loyalties, which mean nothing anymore. Don't you know that?"
He gave her a shove so that she had no choice but to back up against the wall, where he swiftly blocked the possibility of her escape by placing both his hands on the wall on either side of her.
"Do you really think Seamus Finnigan will save you if I so choose to put you on the list for the Dementors?"
His words were soft, like those of a lover, but there was no mistaking the menace beneath their gentle veneer. He stepped closer blocking all light from her vision, so that he was nothing more now but a shadow with glittering eyes.
"Do I need to remind you, Granger, who holds your life in their hands?"
"Stop!"
Her voice was choked with unshed tears, but the fear was there, whether she wanted to show it or not.
"I've given you everything I have! I don't know what you want from me!"
Draco sneered at her, his fingers curling against the wall. It was cool to his touch. He refused to show his true emotions, the fact that what he wanted, she could not give him.
"Tonight, you'll know."
His whispered was followed by the touch his hand against her waist, resting there, pressing so that she was flat against the wall.
"Tonight, you won't have to wonder if I will, or I won't."
Draco's voice had grown husky with the need he had been suppressing for weeks, and in the darkness, she was changing now, the potion wearing off for the last time, so that now the woman in the bedroom was truly Granger, and not Granger in Astoria's body. The sight of her made everything in him twist with desire.
He hated it.
He embraced it.
He loathed wanting her, and yet knew that if he lost himself in the desires she wrought in him, he wouldn't have to think anymore.
He was damned if he did, and damned if he didn't.
"You won't have long to wait now, Granger. Go ahead and cringe, hold your breath in that way you do when I lean in to kiss you," he continued, running a finger down the side of her face, seeing her body tense under his touch.
At least, here, he wielded a strange power over her. She may not have wanted him, but her body did.
"It's not like you care about me, is it? And I certainly don't care about you. It's all just business."
He finished his casual, callous murmur against her lips, and felt goose bumps as they rose up along her silken flesh. He deepened the kiss, forcing her mouth open under his, feeling his body melting against hers, his eyes falling closed. He wanted to forget his feelings, forget the lies that he had whispered to her.
"Funny," he managed to say when he broke away from her mouth. "Funny, how I'm the only man you can trust now, Granger. No matter what anyone says to you, it's me who is your only hope in saving Lily."
He saw her eyes flickering in confusion, her face turned up towards his, only inches away so he could breathe in the intoxicating scent of her. It made it hard to think, and as he spoke, his fingers closed around her wrist, loose at first, but tightening with each word he spoke.
"And yet, still you don't trust me. Still, you don't want me. Still, you make yourself a pathetic, sacrificial lamb at the altar of the Death Eaters. It could have been different, Granger."
He could see her fear, brightening the depths of those impossibly bewitching eyes.
She fears me. It is as it should be. I was the fool for thinking that feelings even had a place in this arrangement.
"But we'll have it the way you want it. Make your sacrifice, Mudblood."
He shoved her against the bed, watching her fall, and he followed, tearing off the grey suit coat he had been wearing all evening long. He saw her sudden, sparkling tears and the way her lips trembled, and he was glad for it.
Pain for pain, he decided.
"We Malfoys have a very simple truth," he hissed, as he pressed his gluttonous mouth against her trembling lips. "It's like this."
He sat up, and then reached down to stroke his hands over her body.
"Want."
He yanked her up, causing her to groan in surprise, before muffling the sound by taking her mouth with almost a savage motion so that she could do nothing but cling to him, whimpering softly. Somehow, this power he had over her, fueled his dark desires. His lips traveled over the hollow of her creamy flesh, biting so that she could feel it, so that it was near painful, and Draco reminded himself that she was no longer woman, but object. His hands, though he fought to keep them from trembling, ran down and over her breasts, still hidden under the swath of crimson satin she was wearing. He moved his hands along the smoothness, hearing her hiss in response, moving against his hand even if she truly wasn't willing.
"Take."
In one violent movement, he managed to rip aside the dress, tossing the fabric off the bed, taking in the sight of her flesh, free for his taking. Free, for she had offered to him so wantonly. She was naked within moments, and his mouth sought her flesh, the peaks of her breasts, relishing the guttural sounds he was wringing from her.
So, you don't want me, then?
His heart raced within him, out of control, fueled by his self-hatred and the rage he felt towards her.
"Have."
The last word was a choked sound falling from his lips as his fingers ran down her heated body and against the most secret part of her. She was hot, wet, ready for him, and just a touch sent a tremor through her, and he felt her fingernails digging into his flesh through the white shirt he still wore. At first, he was gentle, forgetting that she was supposed to mean nothing to him, and he tenderly slipped his finger into her. One, then two, and he moved them back and forth, engulfed by her velvet heat. Then, the rhythm picked up speed, intensified, so that it was maddening, pushing her closer and closer to the edge, and he leaned in, burying his face against her throat as he fumbled with the belt around his trousers, willing himself to just do it.
Do it. Do it, because it's what she's expecting. Do it, because it's what she's offering. Don't think, just do it, because it's all she'll give you.
Draco closed his eyes, blocking out all thoughts, everything but the way she felt against his fingers, the way her body responded to him, the way she smelled, so sweet and musky all at the same time, the way she sounded, husky and taut with need.
Merlin-
The sheets were cool and crisp against his legs as he pushed her against the mattress roughly and she fell, eyes wide with fear, her dark hair fanning against the white pillow as she bit her lip to keep from crying out.
"It could have been different, Granger," he whispered, shaking his head, trembling as he tore off his trousers with trembling hands, tossing them aside, his gaze wide and dark with a desire he had no ability to hide. "I wanted it to be different."
He spat the words out hatefully, shaking with disgust – at himself, and at the situation and at the feelings that assaulted him with each breath. But, when he moved in to finally take what she had been offering, she began to fight back, trying to move, and he saw the tears running down her face.
"No," she whispered, tearing away from him, her eyes wide, even as he crawled across the bed to reach for her greedily.
"You said I could have what I wanted," he hissed. "This is what I want. You don't get to say no!"
"You're scaring me," she whispered, her face appalled at his sneer.
He didn't listen, closing the distance between himself and the mouth, the woman he wanted. The woman he needed. Even if she didn't want him, or need him. As he kissed her, he tasted her tears, warm and bitter against his lips. Sensation began to blur, and Draco grew disoriented, his breathing shallow, his fingers shaking uncontrollably. It was then, that he broke. With a whimper, Draco wrapped his arms around her, burying his face into her neck.
Then, he cried.
He cried because he was alone and terrified of how he felt, of what was happening to him. And as he cried, he felt her whispering to him, and it was strange, sweet almost.
"I'm sorry…"
His voice was muffled.
"So sorry, Hermione."
Her name on his lips was like the freedom he sought. Her name on his lips was like the hope he desperately needed. And he clung to her.