Pacing the length of the lounge, he pulled at his hair in frustration.
"Fuck, Hermione! If...if she's….Fuck!" he stammered, before kicking a chair over, panic rising along with the bile that threatened to spill from his gut. Turning, he slumped down the wall, crumpling in a heap as sobs wracked his body.
Hermione went to him, reaching out to pull him into her embrace.
"She isn't dead," she whispered.
"How do you know?" he rasped, his voice hoarse as he looked up at her with pleading eyes.
"The vivus sanguis spell. It tells me whether the blood is from a living or a dead person. It was one of the spells we developed while I was undercover," she explained, stroking his hair. "Pansy is definitely alive. She must have been here. What we need to figure out is why, and where they took her next."
Draco rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, grinding his tears away. "I know I should know more about the ritual, but it's not coming back to me," he told her bitterly.
"We will figure it out," she whispered.
.
Lacing her fingers with his, she felt the familiar tug in her navel as her body contorted, pulled into one spot with a pop and then snapped back out into another almost instantaneously as Draco side-along apparated them back to the Chateau. She tried not to stumble or throw up as she tightened her hold on his hand; she really wasn't keen on the feeling it gave her. Ascending the grand staircase, he directed her along to the west wing of the building, stopping before a rather ornate set of oak doors. Removing the charms that kept the room closed off, he threw the doors open, listening for his wife's very predictable reaction. Her breath hitched in her throat as she took in the sight of the most beautiful library she had seen outside of Baghdad. With a smirk, he watched her enter, her face filled with amazement as she reverently made her way along the stacks. Pausing at the balustrade, she turned and made her way down the little staircase that took her to a central study area. The little side lamps sprung to life, lighting as she settled down at the desk, her delicate hands tracing the ornate carvings along the edges of the table.
"I thought you would like this," her husband grinned, half a level above her, as he leaned on the balustrade.
"I love it," she whispered.
.
Scribbling notes, she paused to check the text once more, her fingers hovering just above the page as she chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip. Draco watched her surreptitiously over his own text, stifling a groan; he did enjoy watching his wife work. Shaking his head, he returned to the text, hoping to glean some insight into what the ritual was that had taken place in the villa. A light tapping at the window interrupted his focus, and with a sigh, he placed the book down on the table before jogging up the little staircase and making his way over to the window. Taking the parchment from the owl, he opened it carefully, scanning the contents.
With a growl, he descended the staircase, handing the note to Hermione as she looked up, confusion and concern apparent on her face.
"You're not going to believe this," he spat venomously.
Hermione scanned the note quickly.
"How can they have lost her father's fucking yacht?!" Draco fumed.
.
Green light flashed across the marble floor as the floo roared to life in the atrium. Hermione rushed down the grand staircase, throwing her arms around her friend in a tight embrace.
"Harry!" she cried.
"Hello 'Mione," he grinned, planting a friendly kiss on her cheek. Looking up, he saw Draco stride across the atrium with purpose. "Malfoy," he greeted with a cordial handshake.
"Potter."
Hermione linked her arm through her best friend's and the trio made their way into the drawing room. Settling into the leather sofas that were the central feature of the room, they brought each other up to speed on the various parts of the case. Harry had remained in Spain to see if he could shed any light on the other kidnappings and the smuggling, enlisting the Major Case Squad team from Venice to track movements of wizards in and around the ports along the Mediterranean. They had put a trace on Pansy's father's yacht the moment that Ron had reported her missing.
"Two days ago, the trace was activated," Harry informed them, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off the migraine that threatened behind his eyes. "The yacht disappeared from the Spanish Impound where it had been kept since it was found in the Bay of Cadiz, minus Pansy."
"Yes, I still don't understand why it was claimed the yacht was drifting, given that Weasel had reported her missing. Surely it was secured immediately," Draco stated.
Harry shook his head. "That's the thing, Standard Operating Procedure doesn't seem to have been followed. Ron reported her missing and they brought him in immediately for questioning. Then, for some reason, no one secured the yacht. It was drifting in Spanish waters for some time, before it was impounded and then searched. I had requisitioned access to it three times and I was denied three times. Then the trace was activated."
"I don't like any of this," Hermione muttered, her eyes narrowing in thought.
"How long before the team track it down?" Draco asked.
Harry glanced at his watch. "I'd say at least 36 hours from now."
.
His eyes drooping, he closed them momentarily before he felt the book in his hands being tugged away.
"Come on you," Hermione murmured, a smile forming on her lips.
Draco took her hand and turned it slightly, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist, listening to her breath catch in her throat.
Once upstairs in the Master Suite, he turned the covers down and slid into the bed, as Hermione finished up in the bathroom. Looking up, he felt the familiar thrill of desire course through his veins as he took in the sight of his wife, her loose curls flowing across her shoulders like a golden cascade, a simple yet elegant Emerald green neglige showing off her beautiful hourglass figure. Draco swallowed hard as he drank in the glowing image. Smiling, she made her way over to the bed and crawled on top.
"Hey you," she whispered, a coy gleam in her eye.
"Hey " he smiled back, reaching out to tangle his hand in her hair as she straddled him.
She pressed her lips against his gently, moaning slightly against his lips as his hands cupped her neck, drawing her in. Everything about the kiss was calm, sensual and slow for a moment before desire kicked in. Soon lips, teeth and tongues crashed together as they ripped all the fabric between them off, throwing them to the floor along with any remaining inhibitions. Hermione moaned as his teeth found the column of her throat, grasping at his shoulders, and digging her nails in. Draco hissed at the new sensation as his hands kneaded her smooth alabaster flesh. Dipping his hand between them, he groaned as his fingers coated in her slick heat, finding her nub as she keened above him. He lined up his length to her opening as she writhed on top of him, engulfing him as their hips joined. She controlled the rhythm as his hands kneaded the perfectly round globes of her rear. Slipping her fingers between her scorching folds, she cried out his name as she clenched around him coming undone, her juices flooding her as he called out her name like a litany. Collapsing in a mess of limbs, she ran her hands through his hair as he buried her face in her bosom.
With a heady sigh, they drifted off to sleep.