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Some Blond Fool	By : AndreaLorraine Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 46886 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Author�s Note:� Whew.�
That week was essentially hell.�
It was so nice to sit down and write this.� In this installment, we find out part of the
back story for Rita and Ethan, and Harry finds out something else�

September 12

�� Lucius�s
body had raged with a high fever for two days, he�d laid in bed for the next,
and the two after that gave them a manic man, one who would not sleep or eat or
acknowledge that he had to.� He finally succumbed fifty sleep-deprived hours later, hours in which
neither she nor Draco nor anyone else who came and
went knew what he was doing in his study.�
He didn�t care if people walked in and out, didn�t try to prevent them
from seeing the papers splayed out on the desk in front of him, but none of
them were courageous enough to actually look.�
He was too intense in that state; even being in the room with him was
enough to raise one�s blood pressure.�
And in light of that, the knowledge of what he so zealously slaved over
might prove to be too much.

�� Hermione was perched on the couch
watching the muggle news and nibbling cereal out of
the box.� She had spent the night in the
guestroom with Draco, who was still asleep.� Poor Draco was worn
down by worry; seeing his father in such a precarious state had been a nasty
shock and even if he did not say it out loud, he felt like it was his
fault.� She was going to let him sleep as
long as he wanted.� Lucius
had other plans.

�� He emerged, freshly showered and
looking like a whole person for the first time in five days.� He was a little thinner from not eating but
the haunted look was gone from his eyes.�
He proved his wellness a moment later, when he swiped the cereal box
from her as he walked by and proceeded to help himself.

�� Someone�s feeling better,� she
said, mildly annoyed.

�� He ignored her and picked a stray
cheerio out of the couch.� It didn�t pass
his inspection; he tossed it to Oberon, who gobbled it up as if it was filet
mignon.

�� I figured it out,� he said at
length.

�� Hermione tore her eyes from news of
a mudslide in Honduras.� �Figured what out?�

�� Skeeter.�

�� She turned, contemplating him.� Aside from the dark bruises of exhaustion
beneath his eyes, he looked himself.� His
eyes were clear and quick, his pale hair combed and air-drying, and he wore
plain white t-shirt and black sweats with an Armani logo on them.� Of
course, she thought wryly, his lounge
pants are worth more than my entire wardrobe.

�� That�s it, then?� she asked softly.

�� What�s what?�

�� You know what I mean.�

�� For a moment he didn�t know what to
say.� It was odd to see him that way,
struggling for words, groping for meaning and clarity.� It was something he simply didn�t do.

�� I cannot guarantee that that�s it
for the rest of my life,� he said.� �But
for now�� his hand fell to Oberon�s head, seeking the dog�s soft, unprejudiced
comfort, �for now, I am done.�

�� She nodded.� No more would be said of it; she knew Lucius wouldn�t speak of what he had thought or felt or
seen.� There were things inside him,
things she couldn�t even hazard a guess at, and even if she would never know
exactly what they were, the fact that they existed changed him.� She had seen.�
She knew.� And he knew that she
knew and he was�comfortable.� This truly
was a different man.

�� Shacklebolt
had commented upon it, too.� He had
stopped by that second day, a day where Lucius raged
and moaned, febrile and incoherent.� He
had brought a healer to make sure it wasn�t some infection from his time in St.
Mungo�s; such occurrences were rare but not unheard
of.� As they suspected the only infection
was that of his soul.

�� That�s a man,� Kingsley had said,
�who has finally gone from feeling remorse at being caught to feeling remorse
for ever doing the things that required the catching.�� And he had looked amazed, happy, and
sympathetic while he said it.�

�� Was that what you were doing in the
study?� she asked, pushing Kingsley�s discourse out of her mind for the time
being.� �Figuring out Skeeter?�

�� He shook his head.� �I did that this morning, lying in bed.�

�� Then what was it?�

�� The corners of his mouth lifted in a
strange smile that seemed more sad than happy.�
�That is for Ginny Weasley to know, and
everyone else�never to find out.�

�� Harry contemplated the mail with a
sigh.� The stack was larger than usual
since his transfer to Puddlemere United.� The rented box was nearly exploding.� Oh, there was a howler from a Caerphilly fan�it triggered, shouting obscenities at him in
Welsh, most of which he understood, and the others in the post station stared
at him.� Until they figured out who he
was; then they smiled.��

�� That was the only howler today.� That was a good sign.� Leaving the shreds of the angry letter on the
floor, Harry dumped the mail into a large messenger bag slung over his shoulder
and apparated.

�� Ginny was still in her
underwear.� He loved when she deemed it necessary to walk around the flat in her
bra and panties.� He never got tired of
her.� Today she had donned a particularly
alluring thing, something she referred to as a balconette,
possibly because it pushed her breasts up and suspended them like some terribly
tantalizing shelf.� It was a saturated
amethyst color, and the black panties that sat low on her hips had matching
ribbons that held them on.� She had
something on her mind, clearly, because with one tug of those ribbons she�d be
revealed in all her glory.� She played
her cards well, this Ginny Weasley.

�� He thought to himself, as he snuck
up behind her and pressed a hand to her toned stomach, that he was going to
have to make her Mrs. Potter soon.� Yes,
soon�he toyed with the end of one ribbon, rubbing the satin between his
fingers.� If he won the upcoming
exhibition match against the Sofia Slaughterers, Viktor Krum�s Bulgarian side,
he�d propose to her right there on the pitch.�
If not�well, that wasn�t really a consideration, was it?� With the motivation of the love of his life
consenting to marry him, there was no way he�d lose.

�� What was in the mail?� Ginny
asked.� He could hear the smile in her
voice.

�� Nothing,� he said.� �Nothing that is more important than me removing
these silly garments and doing vulgar things to you.�

�� Ginny giggled.� �They�re not vulgar.�

�� Okay,� he agreed, sweeping her hair
aside and kissing her neck, �maybe just naughty, then.�

��

�� Lucius
looked down upon his sleeping son for the second time in a week.� This time he wasn�t in the endorphin-soused
somnolence that followed intimacy.� His
sleep was lighter, more troubled; he reached out to shake his strong shoulder
and Draco�s eyes opened.

�� He appeared perplexed at first.� Then he stretched, possibly to give himself
time to try to understand the fact that his father was sitting on the edge of
the bed and gently waking him.� That had
rarely happened, even in his youth.� Lucius regretted it like he regretted many things, lately.

�� You�re looking better today,� Draco commented, covering his awkwardness by sitting up and
resting his elbows on his knees.

�� Lucius
nodded.� �I am feeling much better.�� Draco�s eyes
watched him as he moved backwards, raising his legs and moving toward the middle
of the bed.� He sat Indian-style, facing his
son.� �You need to know�� he frowned and
chewed his lower lip, but only for the briefest of seconds, �that it wasn�t
about her.� It wasn�t about
Hermione.� I like her, but I do not love her, and as such, she is yours.�

�� Then why did you become so upset at
the mention of her?� Draco asked softly.� �And you were looking at us, knowing what we
did��

�� I was not upset at the mention of
her,� he said, looking down at his hands twined in his lap.� �I was upset by your reaction - by your
belief that I was lying to you.�

�� Draco
opened his mouth to speak, but Lucius cut him off.

�� I have been miserable at keeping
promises, absolutely miserable.� I lied
to you for your entire life, led you into circumstances you never would have
chosen for yourself, and have therefore given you no reason to trust me.� But I never felt the full brunt of that until
that moment.�

�� Father--�

�� Draco,
for all the dishonesty I�ve perpetrated on you, I want you to know that I would
never steal the woman you loved from
you.�� A slightly pained expression
settled on his face.� �Because
I have had it done to me.�

�� Draco�s
eyes widened.� �Are you saying�Mum�?�

�� Lucius
nodded.� �Giacomo
Cannavare snatched her right out from under me.� It is my fault for being too distracted to
notice.�

�� Draco
blinked and shook his head.� �I�she told
me she met him after the divorce.�

�� Do not judge her,� Lucius was quick to say.�
�I gave her even fewer reasons to care for me than you.�

�� He�s a shit, Dad,� Draco said.� �Half
the man you are.�

�� Lucius
looked up sharply, as surprised by the sentiment as he was to the rare use of
the less formal parental title.� �Why do
you say that?�� His eyes narrowed
murderously.� �He has not done anything
to her, has he?� If he has, I will be in Milan so fast that the aurors won�t catch me until after I�ve killed him,� he
growled.

�� Don�t even think about it,� Draco warned, not doubting his father�s assertion for a
minute.� �He hasn�t done anything to hurt
her, but he treats her like she�s stupid.�

�� Lucius
snorted.� �He is the stupid one if he
thinks her silly and harmless.� I hope
she is cleaning him out.��

�� Draco
shrugged but smiled.� In all likelihood,
she was.

�� Anyway,� Lucius
continued, �I mean it.� She is yours,
yours alone.�� He reached into his pocket
for something which turned out to be a Swiss Army knife.� He opened one of the short blades and held it
over the palm of his hand.

�� What are you doing?� Draco asked with wide eyes, alarmed.

�� A blood oath.�� He pressed the blade into his skin, drawing a
thin slash of blood.� �So you will know
how serious I am.�

�� I believe you, Dad.�

�� What conditions do you want on the
oath?� Lucius asked, ignoring him.

�� None.� There isn�t going to be an oath.�

�� I need you to trust me, Draco.�

�� I do.�� He took the knife from his father�s
hand.� He then reached for his wand and
with a quick spell, the cut healed.� �No
more of this.�

�� All right,� Lucius
said after a long while, his voice distant and muted.� �No more.� �

��

�� He�d left Ginny wrapped in a blanket
on the living room floor, which was where they�d succumbed to temptation.� When he came back with two glasses of water,
she had begun to go through the bag of mail.

�� It�s like I don�t even exist,� she
mock-grumbled, tossing letter after letter into what was presumably his
stack.� He thought she was quite sexy,
sorting mail in the buff.� �Wait,� she
amended, pulling out a particularly thick stack of parchment, �I stand
corrected.�

�� Did someone write you a novel?�
Harry asked, lowering himself to the floor and insinuating himself into the
blanket with her.� The �letter� must have
been thirty pages long, at least.

�� Seems that way,� she nodded,
breaking the seal.� He looked over her
shoulder; she�d tell him to bugger off if she wanted privacy, she�d never been
afraid to do that.� But when she unfolded
the papers, they were empty.

�� Someone sent you a bunch of blank
paper?� Harry asked, confused.

�� Blank?� her eyes darted up to
him.� �Harry, they�re not blank.�

�� I don�t see anything written.�

�� The entire page is full.�

�� Harry frowned.� �Who is it from?�

�� For a moment she shuffled
pages.� Then, arriving at what was
evidently the last one, her eyes widened in surprise.� �Lucius Malfoy.�

�� What�s Malfoy
doing writing you?� he nearly snarled.� It
was one thing for Malfoy to write Harry a letter
after their confrontation, during which so little had been said.� But why on in the world would he be
corresponding with Ginny?� And how had he
made it so that only she could see the words?

�� Ginny chewed her lip.� Her blue-green eyes had taken on a troubled
expression.� She put the pages back in
order and set the stack down.� �Harry�I�m
going to tell you something�and you have to promise me�that you won�t go
ballistic.�

�� That made his gut
sink.� Anything Ginny had to say
that she thought would make him ballistic could not be good.� He steeled himself.� Please, Merlin, please, Malfoy
could not have seduced her; Harry hadn�t objected to her going to St. Mungo�s because it was for Hermione, not them, but so help
him, if Malfoy had�

�� That face is not making me want to
tell you, Harry,� she said gently.

�� It�s just�it�s never anything good
when there is a Malfoy involved,� he said, attempting
to find some kind of center.

�� You promise me right now that you
won�t go and hurt anybody,� Ginny demanded.

�� I promise,� Harry returned
grudgingly.� This was sounding worse and
worse and she hadn�t even said
anything yet.

�� His girlfriend, the love of his
life, took a deep breath.� �I�ll hold you
to it. �Now�listen.�

�� He nodded.

�� Do you remember when you found me
in the Chamber of Secrets?�

�� He nodded again.

�� Did you notice anything�off?�

�� Harry looked at her
incredulously.� �Well, aside from the
giant basilisk, you being nearly dead, and the teenaged incarnation of Lord Voldemort, no.�

�� Her lips twitched.� �About me, Harry.� About the way I looked.�

�� He shook his head.� �You were lying on the ground and not
moving.� You were so pale.� I thought you were dead.� I was terrified.�

�� What about my clothes?�

�� Ginny, I wasn�t looking at--� he
stopped abruptly.� Horror flashed through
his emerald eyes.� �Oh,
no.� No, no, no.� You�re not saying�?�

�� She nodded, blinking back
tears.� �Right before you came.� He had sucked enough life out of me that he
was solid.� He raped me.�� She swallowed.� �I guess I was the only one who noticed that
my buttons were done wrong and my skirt was on backwards.�

�� Agony broadsided him and made his
eyes well up.� He had thought he was done
with this, the terrible guilt of people being hurt by Voldemort
because of him, but apparently not.� He still cropped up.� He
still ruined lives.�

�� Oh, Ginny.� Oh, Gin.�
I was just so glad to have gotten you out of there.� I didn�t�� he breathed raggedly, trying to
process it.� Tears dripped down his face
and he reached out to touch hers.� �Why
didn�t you say anything?� Why didn�t you
tell Madame Pomfrey?� he whispered.

�� She knew.� I asked her not to tell anyone.� She said she was there if I needed to talk,
and I did go once or twice, but really�I just wanted to forget about it.�

�� I wish I could go back and kill him
all over again!� Harry exclaimed, swiping angrily at his tears.� �I�d do it very painfully this time��

�� She shook her head.� �It�s all right, Harry.� I�m okay with it now.� For a long time I wasn�t, but�� Ginny took a
deep breath, �then I confronted Malfoy.�

�� Ah.�
This was why she�d made him promise not to hurt anyone.� Because Malfoy
had started the entire chain of events.�
He had slipped her that diary.� He
had given that malicious horcrux access to Ginny.� He had made it so that it could all
happen.� And Harry was usually a man of
his word, but not this time.� Not.� This.� Time.

�� He began to struggle to his feet,
but her grip and the tightly wrapped blanket obstructed him.

�� No,
Harry.� You will stay here and listen to
me and you won�t hurt him.�

�� You�re right.� I won�t hurt him, I�ll kill him!�� Still, he let her
hands subdue him.� He had not heard the
full story yet.

�� When I heard about the fiasco with
Hermione I was suspicious.� I hated
him.� I didn�t want her anywhere near
him.� I made her bring me to his
flat.� I wanted to kill him, Harry.� I wanted to pull out my wand and use the Killing
Curse.�

�� That shut him up.� Ginny had a temper, but she was not a killer.

�� I went in there with a chip on my
shoulder and I pushed him until I got the response I wanted.� I was ready to do it.� Hermione wouldn�t have been able to stop me.�

�� Why didn�t you?� he asked.� Malfoy deserved it.

�� Because he looked like he wanted to
kill himself when I told him what
Riddle did.�� She sighed, resting her
cheek on his chest.� �And then he got on
his knees and apologized.� He nearly
cried, Harry.�

�� That didn�t sway him.� �He�ll do anything to get out of trouble,
Ginny, you know that!�

�� It was real.� I could see in his eyes that it was
real.� He didn�t know what the diary
was.� He didn�t know that it contained a
piece of the Dark Lord.�� She
paused.� �He said that if he had known,
he would never have given it to me�and I believe him.�

�� Ginny�� There was so much doubt in that one word.

�� You�ve seen for yourself.�� She looked into his eyes, peaceful in spite
of the things she was talking about.�
�He�s changed.�

�� Harry thought about him.� Yes, it was obvious that Malfoy
Sr. had changed, and Malfoy Jr. as well.� But so much that he could be forgiven?� He struggled out of her grasp and groped for
his clothes.� She watched him, her eyes
sad.

�� This is the only time I will ever
break a promise to you, Ginny,� he vowed.�
�I love you.� ��

�� They at last managed to be in the
same place at the same time.� Draco had rather shamelessly pulled her into the shower
with him, and she thought her late-July fantasy might come true with the minor
substitution of son for father, but he was too tired and too wrapped up in his
thoughts to pay her that kind of attention.�
Oh, his eyes were on her, that was certain, but the week he�d had was
the kind that tended to subdue the libido.�
She was glad; it still seemed strange to be so intimate with him at all,
let alone in his father�s flat while Lucius was
actually present.� Call it a holdover
from her teenaged years�

�� Lucius
truly didn�t give a damn what they did, aside from his two rules and the
obvious expectation that they not be stupid enough to
become pregnant; she found it absolutely amazing and a little confusing.� It didn�t matter that she was nearly
twenty-five � her father would have
made any significant male other sleep on the couch.� Though that might just be a double-standard
at work�if Lucius had a daughter instead of a son,
there was no telling how he�d behave.

�� They emerged to find the dining room
table covered in photographs, newspapers, and other documents.� Lucius was standing
over it all, frowning thoughtfully.

�� Are we ready, then?� he said after
they shuffled up to the table.

�� This looks complicated,� Draco sighed.� �Is
that a birth certificate?� How did you
get that?�

�� Lucius
shrugged, but looked decidedly wicked.�
�I have my ways.�

�� An image of Lucius
seducing and/or bribing librarians popped into her head.� She shouldn�t smile � that was probably
exactly what he had done.� The smile came
anyway.

�� So,� Draco
read the birth certificate, �Rita Medea Mancini, born
the 29^th of February, 1960.� A leap year baby.�

�� Medea is
right,� Hermione snorted.� �That woman
would kill her own children.�

�� Does she have any?� Draco asked.

�� Lucius
shook his head.� �But she is
married.� And that�s where things become
interesting.�� He leaned over and picked
up a faded, pink-tinted newspaper.� �Cast
a translation spell, and you�ll begin to understand.�

�� Hermione and Draco
reached for the paper at the same time.�
They both hesitated in midair, then withdrew,
then reached forward again.� Hermione
felt herself blush for no good reason and dropped her
hand; with a dirty look at his father, who was doing a bad job of suppressing a
smirk, Draco finally took the paper.

�� It�s in Italian�� his eyes scanned,
picking out a few words that he knew from spending time with his mother in Milan.� �November 19, 1934.� Translatio.�� The Italian words shimmered and rearranged
themselves into English.� It was clear
that it was a wizarding newspaper; ads for wands,
potions, and new state-of-the-art cornhusk brooms were scattered across the
page.� �Mafia war shuts down Adriatica Alley,� he read.�
�Adriatica Alley � that�s the wizarding high street in Milan.�

�� Lucius
nodded.

�� Wait a minute,� Hermione said, her
mind catching up with the words.�
�There�s a wizard Mafia?�

�� Of course,� Draco
answered.� �Is there a muggle Mafia?�

�� Yes,� Lucius
answered for her.� �Haven�t I forced you
to watch The Godfather?�

�� No.�

�� Goodfellas?�

�� No.�

�� The Sopranos?�

�� No,� Draco
negated patiently.

�� Then I have been remiss.�� He chuckled.�
�And my waste management jokes have been falling on deaf ears.�

�� Hermione stared at him in
wonder.� Lucius
would watch mob shows.� He probably had more in common with Tony
Soprano than he cared to admit.� Except
that he was far better looking and wouldn�t be caught dead in the company of people
with nicknames like Paulie Walnuts.� Not that she knew anything about the
show.� Of course not.

�� So the Mafia is active in Italy.� Big surprise,� Draco
said.

�� Keep reading.�

�� Draco took
a breath before continuing.� �The battle
for dominance between the Mancini and Scattori crime
families continued today when Benedetto Mancini,
brother of patriarch Melchiorre, was murdered in
broad daylight while shopping at Furio�s Famous
Outfitters.� Instant panic broke out�� Draco skimmed ahead, his grey eyes devouring the
words.� �The perpetrator was never
caught, though witnesses claim to have seen Ulisse Scattori fleeing the scene.�

�� Skeeter�s
a Mafia princess,� Hermione breathed.�
�Unbelievable.� �

�� Correct.�� Lucius dug up two
more pieces of parchment.� �It gets
better.�� He glanced at them both
reproachfully.� �You had better appreciate
this, because you have no idea of the
lengths I had to go to in order to obtain these.�

�� Do we want to know?� Draco muttered.

�� Hermione took them carefully from Lucius�s outstretched hands.� She couldn�t help but feel that she was in a
War Room, plotting for a war that was much bigger than her.� She now held two family trees, one for the Scattoris, and one for the Mancinis.� There was Melchiorre
Mancini at the top, along with his four siblings: Benedetto,
Flavio, Orfeo, and
Octavia.� On the opposite table there was
Prospero Scattori.�
He had one brother, the aforementioned Ulisse.�

�� Follow me, now,� Lucius said.� �Rita�s
grandfather is this Melchiorre character.� Her parents are Malvolio
Mancini and Eufemia Alessi.� They had Rita in 1960 and her sister Rosa in
�62.�

�� Ugh,� Hermione grimaced.� �There�s two of
them?�

�� It seems that way.� Now, direct your attention to the other
tree.� In particular, Gaetano Scattori.�

�� Born in 1960 � same year as Rita,� Draco noted.

�� Yes.� And that�s not all they have in common.�

�� My head is beginning to hurt.�

�� Lucius
gave his son a look.� �You�ve dealt with
worse, but I�ll make it easy.� Rita
Mancini and Gaetano Scattori
were married in 1979.�

�� Married?� But they�re from warring families,� Hermione
protested.� �That would result in a
bloodbath.�

�� Up until that point, it was a bloodbath.�� Lucius dug up more
pink newspapers.� �1935, Ulisse Scattori seizes control,
and was by all reports an unstable drunk and a devil incarnate.� No one on either side liked him.� 1937, he�s murdered by his own brother,
Prospero, who then takes control.� 1941 �
Melchiorre orchestrates a coup and the Mancinis come to power � but Prospero lives through it.� 1944, Melchiorre
dies under suspicious circumstances.� His
brother Flavio is suspected of the murder, of wanting
the power for himself.� It doesn�t work �
he�s murdered by the other brother, Orfeo, and the
internal conflict weakens them.� The Scattoris take over again.�
1954, Prospero dies.� His son Saturnino takes over, the Scattoris
maintain control.� A decade of relative
peace goes by, during which everyone on all sides reproduces�� Lucius glanced at a list he�d made, �twenty-nine children,
counting both families, are born from 1925 to 1965, twenty of them from �54 to
�65.�

�� How many of them are still alive?� Draco mused.

�� Eight.� On the Mancini side, Rita,
her sister Rosa, and cousins Desiderio, Innocenzo, Luca, and Providenza.� On the Scattori
side, Lorenzo and Gaetano.�

�� Hermione�s mouth fell open.� Of course he would know the answer � but only
eight of them?� Eight out of twenty-nine?� It really had been a bloodbath.

�� What happened in 1965?� she asked,
not sure she wanted to know.

�� Tacito
Mancini, then eighteen, accidentally killed Renata Scattori in an attempt to rape her.� He charmed the restraints too tightly and she
suffocated before he could lay a finger on her.�
She was fourteen.�

�� Hermione realized that both she and Draco were leaning forward, mouths open.� This was unreal; how could these kinds of
things go on entirely under the radar?�
True, it had been before her time and in a different country, but she
felt like she ought to have heard of it before.�
This was a major, major crime rivalry.�
From the looks of the old Milan
newspapers, it had dominated the wizarding culture of
Northern Italy for decades.

�� That must have set it off all over
again,� she shook her head.

�� Yes.� Fifteen years of intermittent warfare
ensued.� Fully two-thirds of Milan�s wizard population
migrated elsewhere because of it.�

�� Draco
exhaled, incredulous.� �That explains why
there are so few magical folk there.� The
Mancinis and Scattoris are
probably the only ones left.�

�� Lucius
nodded gravely.� �Yes,
and those loyal to them.�

�� A flash of alarm moved across Draco�s face.� �Cannavare?�

�� I checked.� Nothing.�� Lucius blew out a
sigh.� �Either he has no loyalties, or he
hides them well.�

�� We have to owl Mum.�

�� Already did.�

�� Once again, it took Hermione a
moment to catch up.� �Wait�your Mum lives
in Milan now?�

�� Draco
nodded.

�� Oh, Merlin, we have to get her out
of there.�

�� She is a very capable witch,� Lucius said.� �I have
given her the information and indicated our desire for her to leave, but she�ll
do what she wants.�

�� And you�re okay with that?�
Hermione pressed.

�� To a point,� he responded curtly.

�� She relaxed.� In those three words, she understood that Lucius still cared for his ex-wife and if pushed far
enough, he would go retrieve her whether she liked it or not.� Hermione smiled.

�� Anyhow,� Lucius
elaborated, �you can probably guess what Rita�s marriage to Gaetano
was supposed to do.�

�� A cease-fire,� Draco
stated immediately.� �A
treaty, by joining the two families.�

�� Exactly.�

�� Did it work?� Hermione asked, rapt
with interest.

�� Swimmingly, for two years,� Lucius replied.� He
indicated three photographs on the right corner of the table.� In spite of the fact that at eighteen, Rita
had not yet begun to own her beauty, it was in full evidence in her wedding
photos one year later.� The curls were
tamed, the glasses gone, and the familiar confidence simmered behind her
eyes.� She recognized Gaetano,
as well � he was Ethan, the brown-haired paparazzo, though age had obviously
beaten some of the youthful vigor out of him.�
Not so much with Rita; she had that kind of face that never looked old,
the lucky bitch.

�� Then what?�
Draco questioned.

�� Anybody�s guess,� Lucius said.� �All I
can gather is that in the summer of 1981, there was some kind of falling-out
and Rita and Gaetano were forced to flee. �The families were then jointly taken over by
Lorenzo Scattori and Desiderio
Mancini.�

�� They escaped to England and changed
their name,� Hermione nodded as things fell into place.� �From Scattori
to Skeeter.�

�� And Gaetano
started to go by Ethan.� I guess Rita was
too proud to give up her name.�� Draco rolled his
eyes.

�� Yes.� I�ve been able to uncover that Ethan and Rita
Skeeter entered the United Kingdom on 4 November 1981.� There are no employment records for Ethan,
but Rita worked for two newspapers the following year, both of which fired her
for fabricating stories.�

�� Shocking,� Hermione muttered.� �With that track record, how could she have
gotten the job at Witch Weekly?�

�� Lucius�s
eyes flickered back and forth between Hermione and his son.� �You have Harry Potter to thank for that.�

�� What?!� they exclaimed as one.

�� August 1, 1983.� By some stroke of fate, Skeeter
was freelancing one village over from Godric�s
Hollow.� She saw the Dark Mark in the
sky, knew it would make her career if she got there first�and she did.� Rita Skeeter was
the first reporter on the scene of the Potters� murder.� She coined the term �Boy Who Lived�.�

�� Hermione was about to open her
mouth, to voice her dismay that Skeeter�s career had
been made by Harry�s misfortune, and Merlin,
did Harry know that? � when Lucius�s
posture changed very subtly.� She
recognized the slight stiffening, the drawing up of his spine � someone else
was present.� Both she and Draco turned and found themselves faced with the very
person they had been discussing.

�� Did someone call for me?� Harry
said.� But there was no humor in his
voice, and Hermione had not seen him look so deadly since the fall of Voldemort. �

Author�s Note 2.0:
Yes, the mob.� Yes, I actually sat and
drew out family trees and timelines for the Mancinis
and Scattoris.�
Choosing all the names was so much fun!�
I know it was probably a bit confusing for some�feel free to ask
questions and I will respond at the start of next chapter.� A quick note about Rita�s
middle name, Medea.� Medea was a figure
in Greek mythology who did all sorts of interesting things, including leaving
her children to die (or in some versions, actually killing them herself), hence
Hermione�s comment.� That is all,
R&R!
- 10
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Some Blond Fool