Author: Kerri
Characters: Draco/Hermione
Rating: Mature (NC17)
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. I’m just using them for my own perverted sense of fun.
Feed back: Sure thing! Feedback is always helpful.
Summary: A secret between two families is revealed during the summer holidays before the start of seventh year, challenging everything the Prince of Slytherin has ever known. The secret threatens to drag him into a place he has never been before. Sit back and enjoy the biggest fall of all.
Authors note: This is my first venture into the Harry Potter verse, so be kind. For arguments sake, lets just say that Harry killed Voldemort at the end of sixth year mkay? Dumbledore is still alive, and we can go from there. Enjoy…
Part 1.
Two figures sat side by side in front of a low burning fire, lost within silence and thoughts. They would have been shocked to know that their thoughts ran along the same dark channel. Family, and the secrets kept within. One thought of his family, and the death that had changed him. The other thought of family, and the secret that he had held close for the last six years.
Blaise Zabini lounged in his chair silently, watching the flames flicker as he thought about the year ahead, and the trials he would face. Keeping the secret he kept had always been hard, but this would test him to the very depths of his soul.
Eyes as familiar as his own flickered in his mind as he leant his head back against the elegant wing backed chair, the whiskey coloured orbs glistening with suffering and unshed tears. How no one saw the resemblance was beyond him. But as long as no one saw it, their secret was safe.
Glancing up at his portrait, he smirked when he saw the resemblance staring back at him. Long black hair was drawn back into a style the muggles called dread locks. He wore them clasped at the base of his neck with a silver serpent during school, but right now they were loose.
His skin was coffee coloured and unblemished. His eyes were wide and clear, and tilted up at the corners, giving him the appearance of having cats eyes. The jade coloured orbs were clear, Blaise having learnt a long time ago to hide his emotions from his eyes.
He was a tall lad, his shoulders broad, his frame sleekly muscled and strong. Blaise was an enigma at school. Money, pure blood, and those exotic eyes drew the girls, but none managed to keep his attention for more than a few moments, before he moved onto his next conquest.
“Blaise, darling? Are you in here?”
Blaise opened his eyes, and glanced around towards the door. Angelique Zabini stood in the doorway, her eyes flicking between her son and his guest. Blaise gave a ghost of a smile, knowing his mother’s name suited her down to the ground.
“Come in, mother…what's troubling you?”
“Oh nothing, my love. I was just wondering if you had spoken too….?”
Blaise grimaced. “Not yet, mother. I‘m still waiting for his…summons.”
The pair locked eyes, sharing the burden of worry and pain in a quick moment, before Blaise looked back towards the fire. He sighed softly, his eyes slipping shut as he settled fully into his chair once more.
He heard his mother’s echoing sigh a heart beat before the door shut softly, and then there was only silence once more. Blaise scowled slightly, his thoughts as heavy as his heart.
“Blaise…what was that about?” a quiet voice drawled.
Blaise looked towards his guest and cursed silently. He thought he had been asleep but, as his guest swung up from his reclined position on the couch and shook pale strands of hair out stormy eyes, he realized he’d been wrong.
“Nothing, Draco…I don’t want to talk about it.”
Draco Malfoy smirked slightly, and nodded, his cool gaze watching closely as Blaise stretched and stood up. His friend was restless, moving towards the fireplace and staring up at the formal portrait that hung there.
Blaise’s home and status rivalled his own. Draco let his gaze travel around the room they occupied. The room was large, and toned in a deep red colour. Opulent furniture graced the room, along with deep velvet window coverings. The fire added a warmth that had always been missing at Malfoy manor.
Blaise sighed, drawing Draco’s gaze back to him, as Blaise rested his hands on the mantle, and closed his eyes. He was wearing black wool trousers, and a white shirt. The shirts back was sheer, showing the Slytherin crest that was tattooed on Blaise’s back.
Draco closed his eyes again, more at ease in Blaise’s silence, than any other company. The boys had been friends since childhood, their families being friends. That friendship had lasted through school rivalry, chasing the same girls, and the Dark Lord.
When the war had ended at the end of sixth year, Blaise’s mother had sent an owl to the school, telling Draco that he was expected at the manor for the summer holidays. Draco was fine with that. Better than sitting in an empty home, with the memories that Malfoy manor held.
He was alone now. His mother had been killed by his father when she had raised objection to Draco becoming a Death Eater. Lucius had cast the Avada Kedavra against her, leaving her body where it fell while Draco had watched on in horror.
Lucius had no clue that Draco had buried her at the manor with his own hands, his eyes dry and revenge threatening to consume him as he completed his task. He had broken all vows of family loyalty as he smoothed the last of the dirt into place, before apparating to the Ministry, and confessing all he knew. The Ministry had moved him to a safe house, and rounded up the Death Eaters Draco had given away.
Lucius had been arrested, and forced to sit through a public trial. Lucius had been confident that no one would dare give evidence against him. Not while the Dark Lord was still in power. He had however, underestimated the love between his wife and their son. The look on his face when Draco had given that evidence had been revenge enough for Draco.
His father had received a life sentence for his actions in the war, and the untold number of murders he had committed during his time as a Death Eater. His screams of retribution had echoed in the trial room, Draco never lowering hate filled eyes the entire time Lucius had screamed for Draco to remember his loyalty.
A week after Lucius’s imprisonment, the Dark Lord fell, Harry bloody Potter killing him, and setting all free from facing the possibility of becoming future Death Eaters. His father was informed that he may still receive a Dementor’s Kiss, something Draco hoped would eventually happen.
Draco snorted softly at the thought of his father, and stared down at the patch of skin on his arm where the Dark Mark had resided. It had been too late for his mother. Much too late. Lucius had given Draco the Mark on the eve of his sixteenth birthday. Draco had been given orders to kill Dumbledore, and to deliver Potter to the Dark Lord. For once in his life, Draco had questioned his father’s beliefs.
It had resulted in Draco being taken to St. Mungo’s, his life almost over. His father had used the Cruciatus curse on him repeatedly, leaving Draco unable to form sentences or feed himself without help for the months of June and July between fifth and sixth year. His mother had never forgiven his father for it, and neither had he.
But now the Dark Mark was just a bad memory. The raised skin had melted back down into his arm, the black ink slithering down his skin and falling to the floor in a smoking heap. It told the Death Eaters of the death of the Dark Lord. Many had fled. Most were dead. It also told of the freedom that Draco would now enjoy.
A small sneer crossed his handsome face as he laced his fingers behind his head. They would return to school next month. His final year. He had been worried about the Slytherin’s’ reaction to his betrayal of his father, but many of his fellow Slytherin’s felt the same way he did ~ why die for a war you know you can’t win?
Pansy had already owled him, her short letter telling him she was glad he was ok, and that she would try to visit before school started. She and Blaise were the only ones at school who knew what had happened to him at his father’s hand, and the resulting blood feud that had erupted between his mother and father.
Pansy and Blaise had spent time with him at St. Mungo’s, their grave faces never hinting at hidden laughter. Pansy had simply fed him pureed fruit, and wiped his lips and chin afterwards, silent tears sliding down her face as she laced their fingers together in a show of support. The helplessness that Draco had felt had been written all over his face, but the others never brought it up and neither did he.
But it had cemented his friendship with the two. Crabbe and Goyle were goons. Lads who were loyal, but shared a single brain. They were not as close to him as Blaise and Pansy, and Draco kept it that way. Friends and counsel. Companions. Confidants.
Thinking of Pansy, Draco gave a small smile. They had been lovers for a time, but that had drifted into a deeper friendship. Pansy understood his darker moods, and gave him either space, an ear to listen, or her body. Draco used her body frequently, and returned the shoulder to lean upon.
He knew she harboured feelings for Blaise, but Blaise didn’t feel the same way. He had been head over heels in lust with Lavander Brown since fifth year. But with her being a Gryffindor, and him a Slytherin, it was never going to happen. Draco’s musings were interrupted however when a flash of emerald fire filled the fireplace, and a voice called out.
“Oh dear,...I hope I've done this right...Blaise! You there, lad?”
Blaise jumped, and knelt down, his hands waving away smoke and searching for the face who had called him.
“Aye…I have guests, Michael."
"Why you make me use this damn fireplace is beyond me...you did get the cell phone I sent you didn't you?"
This caught Draco’s keen hearing, and he sat up, leaning forward in curiosity.
"Michael...I have guests" Blaise repeated softly into the flames, the face looking back at him flushing with embarrassment.
"Sorry lad...I truly am, Blaise. You know I wouldn't impose upon you if it wasn't important.”
Blaise blanched, and leant closer to the fire.
“What is it? Is she ok?”
“No. I can’t figure out how to get to her St. Mungo’s, Blaise. That’s why I’m calling you…flooing you I mean.”
Blaise straightened up and made a quick gesture with his hand.
“Step back, Michael…I’m coming now.”
The face faded away, but not before Draco saw the look of relief on the face that disappeared from sight. As Blaise took a step towards the fireplace, Draco cleared his throat, Blaise spinning in around in surprise.
“Merlin! You scared the shit out me, Draco!”
Draco smirked, and leant back against the couch, his pose one of casual arrogance. Blaise licked his lips, suddenly nervous. He knew that look all too well.
“Who was that?” Draco asked as he lifted his hand and examined his nails.
Blaise darted a look towards the flames, and then back at Draco.
“Does it matter?” he asked softly.
“Yes, Blaise, it does matter. I mean…after all…what would people think? You, flooing to a muggles aid?”
Draco lifted his gaze slowly, his eyes flashing mercury fire as he stared at Blaise.
Blaise winced, and dropped his eyes, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he mulled over what Draco was saying in his head. It was only years of friendship with his fellow Slytherin that stopped him from telling Draco what he wanted to know.
“The same as they would think about you if they knew what happened when you were in St. Mungo’s last year I suppose” he stated softly, meeting Draco’s gaze for the first time.
Draco smirked again, his eyes flashing with something akin to amusement. It was only then that Blaise relaxed, knowing that Draco understood him perfectly. While they were friends, there were lines you never crossed, and Blaise had just drawn it in the sand.
Draco stretched slowly, and yawned, his gaze flicking back towards the fire place as the emerald fire began to pale. He gestured lazily towards it, his tone indifferent when he spoke.
“You might want to go then” he drawled, Blaise shooting him a look that clearly said “you prick” before he snorted and stepped into the fire place with out another word.
The flames flashed and Blaise vanished just as the door flew open and Angelique ran into the room. A small black object was in her hand, and it was vibrating and playing some sort of music.
“Blaise! How do I answer…Draco.”
Draco frowned as he stared at the small object, only to look up at Angelique when she said his name.
“He was flooed by someone named Michael, Angelique. He’s gone. What is that thing?”
Angelique looked down at the object in her hand, and gave a nervous laugh. Draco stood up and crossed over to her, his hand held out palm up as he stared at Angelique. She dropped it in his hand without a word, Draco turning it over in his hand as he walked back to the couch, oblivious to Angelique wringing her hands.
“Draco…what did Michael want?” she asked softly.
Draco glanced back at her with a startled sound and then snorted.
“Something about not being able to get someone to St. Mungo’s. Why?”
Angelique gave a sound of distress, and stepped over to the fireplace quickly. Picking up the pot of floo powder, she glanced at Draco over her shoulder briefly as she threw some floo powder into the fire place and named St. Mungo’s as her destination.
“Never mind dear…we’ll be back later. Make yourself at home ok? Bye now.”
Draco’s mouth dropped open as she disappeared, only to yelp when the object in his hand started up again. Looking at it closely, he turned it over slowly in his hands, and couldn’t help his jaw dropping open when he saw a bright blue screen on the other side, with flashing numbers dancing along it.
“What in Merlin’s name are you?” he muttered, growing increasingly angry when the thing quietened down once more.
He smoothed his fingertips upwards along the shiny object, and purred in triumph when it suddenly slid open, revealing buttons with numbers and symbols on the inside of it.
He pressed them randomly, his grin turning into a smirk when another screen flickered, showing the word ’menu’. He was quickly figuring out what to do with it, when he saw a folio called ’contacts’.
Opening it, his smirk became a look of shock when he saw there were two names with numbers inside. One was ’Michael G’. The other? ‘Hermione G.’
“What the hell is Blaise doing with that mudbloods name in here?”
Draco tossed the object onto the couch, and leapt angrily to his feet, where he paced like an angry lion. His gaze kept flicking to the fireplace, and then back to the object, before he finally came to a decision. A quick glance at the clock told him it was late. They had been gone for nearly two hours.
Draco picked his lighter cloak up, and swung it around broad shoulders. Nimble fingers snapped the serpent into place, and drew the hood up over is head, shielding his recognisable hair from sight.
Stepping over to the fireplace, he took a handful of floo powder, and tossed it into the flames, the emerald fire leaping high and showing a molten anger in the young mans gaze. Stepping into the flames he spoke clearly, his words dripping with distain.
“St. Mungo’s.”
I'm intrigued where this will go!