A few notes from the author: the FIC was written between 2004 and 2007. It does not take into account the events of the sixth and seventh books, so it is a kind of AU. Blaise Zabini is a girl. From the translator: I want to note that the fic has two times (marauders and Harry Potter time: seventh year) and five central peyring (Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, Narcissa Malfoy/Sirius Black, Lucius Malfoy/New Female Character, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Malfoy.
Cold eyes, no need for words.
The clash of swords.
You, as always, have risen from your dreams,
My Enemy.
Before you leave your mark
My step,
I need to know where at the moment
My Enemy.
The only thing that broke the dead silence was the crackling of the wood in the fireplace. Stop, but it wasn't burning. Perhaps this is some way to greet the host. The handle dropped to the base, and the ancient carved door slowly opened.
Hermione's worst fears were confirmed. Because the person she hated the most was standing in the doorway of the room. The bastard had been the nightmare of the last six years of her life. And since the experience of six years at Hogwarts was much more vivid than the time spent with her Muggle parents, it could be said that it was the nightmare of her entire life. The kind, gentle Hermione, before meeting him, had never wanted so much to hit someone, to humiliate them, to wipe the smug grin from that hateful face. She seemed to have forgotten all about him during the summer, but now, looking at the blond hair thrown in the young man's face by a gust of wind from the window ... Window... She forgot to close the window!
He's going to make a fuss, she thought in horror, but Draco Malfoy didn't seem to notice. He was clearly thinking of something.
Probably thinking of ways to torment Harry.
Meanwhile, the owner of the room, gazing out the window, was unbuttoning his snow-white shirt. When Malfoy's hands went to the waistband of his trousers, Hermione let out a nervous sigh. The young man turned sharply at the sound. At that moment, she would have grabbed her wand and cast a spell on him, but she only sobbed convulsively and cowered on the floor. In the old days, Hermione would have given a lot for that look on Malfoy's face. But she wasn't laughing now. Meanwhile, the Slytherin was slowly recovering. The shock on his face was replaced by the familiar irritation and hatred in his cold gray eyes.
"Granger?" His deceptively soft voice made Hermione shiver.
He just stood there and stared at her. But even that look filled every fiber of her being with terror. How much training does it take to learn how to look like this? Hermione tried to make herself think it was just Draco Malfoy. He's as good as any other teenager, like Harry or Ron ... After all, he was only seventeen, and he was as much a Hogwarts student as she was. Just think, Slytherin. It's not scary at all, it's not scary at all. If you repeat this several times, it is possible that the tight lump in your throat will disappear. It's not scary at all. Why was her heart pounding so hard, why couldn't she do anything but just sit on the floor and stare at him? How he had grown over the summer!
Hagrid showed it to Karmalinov last year. Then the brave Hermione Granger jumped behind Ron with a squeal. It was something so terrible that after it, the boggart turned into this abomination. He was going to turn into Draco Malfoy, standing in the middle of this monstrous room with his shirt unbuttoned. Looking into his eyes, Hermione realized what had frightened her so much. A seventeen-year-old can't have eyes like that. Well, that never happens, he's too young for such cruelty. Children are cruel. But they don't have that look - their cruelty is fleeting. And then she saw her verdict.
"Mm-hmm ... malfoy," the girl muttered. But why did she start stuttering? Although it's a wonder she was able to make any sound at all. Her chatter made Malfoy raise a lazy eyebrow. Apparently, he never imagined that he would ever see the hated Mudblood, not knowing what to say.
"We'll assume that the formalities are over," Draco Malfoy summed up their "greeting", "do you still want to please me with something, or do you want to call the guards right away?"
He made a lazy gesture towards the fireplace. Hermione has never been to magic castles. She had never been to the wizard's house at all, apart from Ron's. But "Burrow" could not be called a castle in any way, so Hermione, having no idea how the security system in the ancient ancestral estates could be arranged, rightly decided that, using the fireplace, Malfoy would call his people.
"Malfoy, please," Hermione said, looking imploringly at him.
If she saw this picture from the outside, then, undoubtedly, she would hate herself. But now she didn't care. You need to somehow distract him, stretch out the time, persuade him to help! Wild thought! What if it works out?
"Malfoy." Hermione didn't realize what force made her rise to her feet and rush to him. "You cannot call the guards, you have to help me, it is not too late to do something, you can - I know. You are not what you want to seem, in the depths of your soul you are ... you are ... kind."
Carrying all this nonsense, Hermione herself did not notice how tightly she grabbed Malfoy by the wrists and squeezed with such force that it must have hurt him. However, he did not move. It's hard to say what made him stand still. Later, Hermione realized that he could shake her off with one movement of his hand. But he stood, perhaps stunned by her impulse. His eyes, which she could see so close now, widened in surprise. Hermione understood that she was starting a real hysteria, and that she would not be able to stop.
"Granger, listen to yourself from the outside," his icy voice produced the effect of a tub of cold water. "What are you talking about? I am kind?!"
Meeting his gaze, Hermione realized the futility of her attempts. His eyes regained their usual, harsh expression. There was no room for compassion in them. Hermione wanted to cry. That was how stupid and inglorious ended her attempt to save Harry. I wonder why Malfoy is still here, and not mocking the prisoner in the dungeon? To avoid looking into those eyes, Hermione lowered her head, glancing over Malfoy's face. Suddenly she realized that she was really very close to him. She managed to make out a thin thread of a scar on the bridge of his nose (she had not noticed it before), lips, which were compressed into a thin line from tension. His lips were very close. The girl suddenly felt dizzy. Probably from fear. Not from the smell of his cologne, after all. Although, maybe from him - out of habit. It smells like expensive colognes, you know. Looking down, Hermione realized with horror that, clinging to his wrists, she managed to pull the unbuttoned shirt off one of Malfoy's shoulders. She slid her gaze over the exposed collarbone, noting a pulsating vein in his neck along the way. The gaze lingered on the medallion. It was a silver medallion in the shape of a grinning dragon holding the letter "M" in its claws. Hermione suddenly thought he was watching her.
"Malfoy," Hermione said quietly, "your dragon winks at me."
"What?" The Slytherin was taken aback, following her gaze, and immediately said irritably, "Oh Merlin! This is a magic medallion. Although, where do you really come from to understand such things as heirlooms of purebred families."
"Bastard!" Hermione blurted out before she realized what she was saying.
Malfoy pushed her hard away from him, and she didn't fall just because she grabbed the edge of his desk.
"Granger," Draco Malfoy's voice was sweeter than syrup, "even you with your Gryffindor brains should understand that you will be the last person on this earth to whom I am going to help."
"It's not for me," Hermione pleaded. Malfoy raised an eyebrow questioningly. "This is Harry."
Malfoy laughed, harsh, angry.
"You made me laugh, Granger. Do you think that, having refused to help you, I will rush with all my might with my services to this four-eyed freak? Then you are even more stupid than I previously thought. Your idiotic friend made his choice. Six years ago, when I held out my hand to him on the train. I don't care about him, I'll be glad if he finally dies. Clear?"
The most surprising thing was that while saying this, Draco Malfoy did not even raise his voice, but there was so much venom and hatred in each phrase that Hermione understood the seriousness of the situation. She has nowhere to wait for help. But something about Malfoy's angry words made her wonder; something in his words was very important.
"Malfoy," it dawned on Hermione, "if you still remember that meeting on the train ..."
"Get out!" His voice cut the silence like a whip. "Get out of my room!"
"What?" Hermione asked dully.
"What part of the phrase" get out of my room "did you not understand?" Asked her executioner politely.
"M-Malfoy, where am I going to go?"
"Granger, you broke into my house for some reason. Thank you for visiting me, flattered that she could not resist until September 1 and sneaked into my bedroom. Sorry that I cannot answer your claims in return. "
As he spoke, Malfoy walked confidently toward the heavy door leading into the corridor.
"I dare not delay!" His face remained completely impassive.
As if he was talking about the weather, and not dooming her to certain death by his actions. Hermione watched in horror as he threw open the door to the corridor.
This is the end. Her legs are firmly rooted to the floor. If a week ago she had been told that she would not want to leave Draco Malfoy's bedroom, the head of Gryffindor would have fallen into a coma, having previously knocked out the one who said such nonsense.
"I hate to rush you, but I have a lot to do," said Malfoy with feigned sympathy and immediately froze when he heard something in the hallway.
"Damn," Malfoy growled after a moment.
Slamming the door, he jumped into the distance to the frozen Hermione, grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her into the closet. It was his girlfriend who considered this one of the options for salvation. But it turned out that the closet was not a very convenient shelter. Push the girl into the space between neatly hung robes and Muggle robes! shirts and growls with a promise: cut Hermione with his hair clip, if she makes a sound, Malfoy will slam the door and rush to the door.
The wardrobe turned out to be carved, and this gave Hermione the opportunity to observe what was happening in the room through the cracks.
Meanwhile, the door opened without warning, and Draco's classmate Blaise Zabini herself appeared on the threshold of the room. Hermione recognized her immediately. Blaise was a real Slytherin: bitchy, calculating, arrogant and incredibly handsome. Harry once said that she reminded him of his mother in those school photos that Sirius gave him. Hermione saw no resemblance. Maybe red hair. But one day, running into the library, she met Blaise, who came out to meet her. From the blow, the things of both girls scattered on the floor. Hermione squatted down, collecting parchments and feathers. Blaise did the same cursing. Reaching for the Potions book, Hermione ran into an obstacle - Zabini also grabbed the same book. Then Hermione remembered that her copy was in her bag and dropped the book while looking at Blaise. She looked back and Hermione was startled by the color of the Slytherin's eyes. She had never seen eyes like these, the color of spring foliage, not even Harry. The impression was spoiled only by the expression of anger that flared up in them. Standing up straight, Hermione saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Draco Malfoy stopped abruptly in front of the library door to avoid collision with the two girls.
"Wow, do the Slytherins know the way to the library, or are you serving the collection here?" Hermione asked.
Blaise was about to say something that Hermione suspected unpleasant, but Malfoy got ahead of her.
"Leave her, Blaise, Granger has hardly seen the private libraries of purebred families, even in pictures. She, poor thing, has to drag herself here for all sorts of nonsense."
Hermione turned green, and Malfoy exchanged nasty smirks with Zabini in Gryffindor.
And so this girl unceremoniously opened the door to Draco's room.
"Blaise," the young man winced slightly, "I asked you not to burst into me without knocking, I can do anything."
Venturing into the room, Blaise knocked on the doorframe along the way.
"You see, I'm getting better before our eyes," she was not at all embarrassed by the remark made. "As for everything else ... You know, I hardly am confused by anything. And Draco Malfoy?
With these words, she went up to the young man and put her hands on his shoulders. Hermione felt her cheeks begin to burn. The last thing she wanted was to see Draco Malfoy kiss or do something worse. Least ... or is it because he's with Blaise? This discovery astonished Hermione. But she couldn't help but admit that Malfoy was ... handsome? Horror! She thought so! But what's the point of arguing with the obvious? From a clumsy, flimsy, disgusting bastard, he turned into a tall, slender, incredibly handsome ... bastard. Well, at least something remains unchanged in this world.
Blaise stood on tiptoe and touched Malfoy with his lips. At the same time, her hands made a sharp movement on his shoulders, throwing off his long-suffering shirt. With a soft rustle, she uncomplainingly slid off the handcuffs around Draco's wrists. Blaise skillfully and unhurriedly stroked his shoulders, chest, arms. Hermione felt hot. How Zabini can do it! It's Draco Malfoy! You cannot treat him like that humanly. Now he would probably do something terrible to her. He, he ... a terrible person.
And the terrible man hugged the girl by the waist and, holding her tightly to him, responded to her kiss. This made Blaise arched, snuggled closer to him, and ran a hand through his tousled hair.
Why is he doing this? Thought Hermione. I don't want to see this at all!
"Why don't you turn away?" inner voice sarcastically.
"Well, I have to know what's going on in the room!" hurried to apologize Hermione.
"Well, yes, and you don't like this picture at all. That's why you don't "look" at his bare shoulders ... "
"Enough!" the girl perked up.
She did it in vain. Her movement tore the cloak from a nearby hanger and, falling, hit the wall with its intricate silver clasp.
The sound made Blaise break away from the thrilling activity.
"What was it?" - she asked the young man, looking into the eyes of the subject.
"I have no idea," Malfoy shrugged sincerely.
"By the way, Draco Malfoy, I didn't have time to tell you that your room smelled of female perfume ..."
"Quite right," Malfoy agreed cheerfully. "I hide Hermione Granger in the closet. Do you want to say hello to her? "
Hermione forgot how to breathe at these frivolous words. Blaise, on the other hand, took it literally and crossed the room. Three steps to the toilet, two ... one ...
Her well-groomed handle starts to open the door. Hermione even sees a stupid drawing on her nails - dragons playing. To delay the moment when she had to look into those cruel green eyes, Hermione closed her eyes tightly. So that's all. What can she explain to this rage now? Legends circulated about the obedient nature of Blaise Zabini, which were retold only in whispers, pointing to traces of her communication with her unloved subjects. The end!
Malfoy's mocking voice brought her back to reality.
"Blaise honey, before you get bombarded with the contents of my closet, look at what I said: Granger in my closet."
Opening one eye, Hermione saw Blaise Zabini with his back to her, staring into Malfoy's laughing eyes. Her palm is still on the doorknob, half open.
Blaise laughed out loud.
"Sorry, I didn't think about the absurdity of this idea."
"Come here," Draco whispered.
Blaise opened the closet door and, caught up in Malfoy's movement, hugged the boy. Hermione stared at his hands, skillfully stroking Blaise's back ten centimeters from her eyes. His golden tan looked amazing against Blaise's white shirt. Every movement of his fingers made Zabini arch his back. Hermione swallowed nervously and struggled to tear her eyes away from the picture. Looking up, she saw two dark gray puddles. How can you kiss one girl so tenderly and look at another with such hatred? And all this at the same time.
He has eyes the color of a cloudy sky, Hermione thought inappropriately.
Malfoy, without stopping the kiss, made a sharp movement on his axis, pulling Blaise away, and hit him hard with his back against the closet door, forcing it to slam shut.
"Oh! Doesn't it hurt you?" Blaise gasped.
"No, it's okay ..." whisper in return.
Now Hermione could see nothing: everything was covered by Malfoy's back. But she heard it perfectly. Irregular breathing, inconsistent whispering. Horror! Hermione tried her best not to listen. But at Blaise's next words, she nearly fainted.
"I'm lucky," she whispered. "Who else can boast of such a passionate and skillful husband?"
Husband? Can not be.
"Blaze, Hermione heard Malfoy say, "let's wait until Christmas with the engagement announcement. Then everyone will find out anyway. After what my father cooked."
For some reason, there was no joy in his voice.
"Do you want to spend some idle days? Okay, Draco Malfoy, before our engagement you can do whatever you want, even sleep with whoever you want. But after Christmas ... "
Looks like Malfoy stopped the flow of her words with a kiss. Oddly enough, Hermione heard the pain in Blaise's voice. What's going on here? Well, they can't be forced into an enterprise like marriage. And if so, why is Zabini happy about that, Malfoy not jumping with delight? They are a beautiful couple, but seriously, he never seems to have met anyone. He changed girls at the speed of light. Not that Hermione was interested, but she always looked at him on the sly. After all, he is the enemy, and you need to know the weaknesses of the enemy.
"You look tired, do you want me to leave?"
"No, I really want you to stay, but I really have a lot to do today."
"Are you back today?"
"Yes, about an hour ago."
"Do you know why they called you?"
"They?"
"Yes, the Dark Lord is here too. And Narcissa has arrived. "
"Narcissa is here?! Damn!"
"Draco, everything will be fine."
"Yes, knowing my father ... and with a company like the Dark Lord."
"Shshsh. Don't say that. You're just tired and therefore upset out of the blue. Nothing terrible has happened yet. And in general, you are not afraid of anything here. So?"
"Sometimes I'm afraid," a nervous exhale.
"Do you want me to try to figure something out?" Blaise said anxiously.
"Yes. Although no - you still lacked enough to participate in this."
A tense silence reigned in the room. The Slytherins' concern was almost palpable, and Hermione became very sad. If in a house familiar from childhood they are afraid of something, then what can be said about her? Poor Harry was scary to think about.
"Then shall I go?" Blaise said uncertainly, breaking the oppressive silence.
"I'll do it," Malfoy said absently.
"Not worth it. Being here, you can put off the inevitable - with a grin."
"If I could avoid the inevitable." Malfoy's answering grin was grim.
"Sounds like a sophist, don't you think?"
The sound of a light kiss and a closing door. And silence. Hermione thought she was simply forgotten. Or Draco left Blaise. And at that moment the toilet door opened, and Draco Malfoy, who had time to button his shirt (praise Merlin, it was very distracting!), Knocked in such a tone that the water in the decanter standing on the table froze:
"Granger! You have five minutes to explain to me what the hell is going on here."
A tense silence reigned in the room.