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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
- 12
- 13
- 14
Author�s Note:� I�d just like to share that this fic has been nominated for Best EWE (epilogue ignored)
story and Best Mystery at the Dramione Awards!� Thanks so much to whoever nominated me and
whoever seconded the nomination.� Get
thee over to livejournal and vote if it tickles your
fancy!� Personally, I�m just thrilled to
have been nominated. Thanks for all the reviews and support.� Keep it up!

September 25

�� Narcissa
stood very still, the letter clenched in her hand.� Rage was not an adequate word to describe
what she was feeling.� These bastards
were toying with her.� There was nothing
in the world that made her angrier than that.�
Lucius had learned that lesson well enough
very early in their marriage.� Oh GOD, why couldn�t she stop thinking
about him?� And that of all things�the one time she had dominated him so
exquisitely, struck fear into his eyes, and earned a comment that perhaps she
was more like her sister Bellatrix than he
thought.� She had slapped him clear
across his beautiful flushed cheek, misconstruing it as an admission that he
had slept with Bellatrix.� He hadn�t � the face he made was enough to
tell her that - and he had wasted no time getting her right back for her
viciousness.� Oh, if people knew what had
gone on in that bedroom in the first year of their marriage, their jaws would
fall off.

�� She smiled,
the proverbial wolf in sheep�s clothing.�
Whatever she did to Gaetano Scattori, it would not have a pleasurable payoff.� Narcissa turned the
letter over and extracted her lipstick from the pocket of her dress.� In a dark shade of red, she wrote one word:

�� COWARD.�

September 18

�� Hermione looked up from her book
when a knock sounded at the door.� It was
late; all the students ought to be in bed.�
It must be someone important, or at the very least someone she shouldn�t
ignore.� She unfolded her legs from
beneath her, set the book down, and strode over to the door.

�� Draco was
not the person she expected to see.� She
had gotten the impression that Hogwarts was somewhere he preferred to keep his
distance from, and why not?� Her memories
of it weren�t all spectacular, either.�
McGonagall, in that knowing way of hers, must have shown him to her
rooms.

�� Hello,� he said, the left corner of
his lip rising in an awkward half-smile.

�� Hi,� she replied, a little
flustered.� For Merlin�s sake, she looked
terrible and so did her living space.� Today
had been a taxing day; a third year Hufflepuff
managed to explode his cauldron and she still bore a small burn across her
cheek from a flying piece of superheated cast-iron.� She should have gone to Madame Pomfrey but the day had been so busy that by the time she
remembered, she was already in her room and had zero desire to walk back up to
the infirmary.

�� He noticed it and reached out to
touch her cheek.� �Are you all right?�

�� They hadn�t spoken in nearly five
days, but his gentle concern made whatever confused anger she had reserved for
him melt away.� �I�I�m fine.� Exploding cauldron
incident.�

�� His smile bloomed to a full
one.� �I still can�t believe you do
this.� I hope it doesn�t turn you into Snape.�

�� There are worse things to be turned
into,� she murmured.� But not many��

�� So�can I come in, or shall I let
the castle�s ears hear everything I�m going to say?�� Draco cast a glance
over his shoulder as he spoke and there was the unmistakable sound of a person
scrambling away down the corridor.� Hermione
stepped out, curious about the eavesdropper�s identity, but by the time she got
around Draco the offender was gone.� Without her obstructing the doorway, Draco walked in, heedless of whether she was going to
invite him or not.

�� Hermione followed him and shut the
door.� �You could have waited until the
weekend.� If you had owled
I would have come to see you in London.� I just wasn�t sure if you wanted me to.�

�� Not London,� he reminded her.� �I�m doing the doctorate, remember?�

�� Oh, that�s right.� Where is it again?�

�� He rolled his grey eyes at her.� �Don�t act like you don�t know where Finley
Greene is based.�

�� She made a disgruntled face at
him.� She was still jealous that he got
to be anywhere near the man.� Greene was simply a genius.� �So.� Philadelphia,
then?�

�� Yes, I�m all settled in now.� I start on Monday.�

�� Hermione sighed and went over to the
fireplace.� She started to call the
kitchens, thinking tea would be nice, but his hand stopped her.� �Let me.�

�� Why?�

�� Because we�re not
going to the kitchens.�

�� Where are you planning on taking
me?� she asked, even as she transferred the floo
powder into his warm hand.

�� It�s a secret.�

�� I don�t like secrets.�

�� You�ll like this one, I promise.�

�� She looked at him, searching his
eyes.� She had seen how much he resented
her taking Harry�s side in the skirmish earlier that week.� He had been angry at her, and quite ready to make good on his threat to kill
Harry.� The wedge was still between them,
no matter how they wanted to pretend that it was not.

�� His eyes flickered away and he
looked at his feet.� �Hermione, my father
told me�about Ginny.� I don�t�I can�t forgive Potter yet, but I know
that if it was you, and someone had done that to you, I�I would probably want
to rip them limb from limb, too.�

�� She swallowed.� Sudden tears prickled in her eyes.� Wedge dissolved�

�� He dropped the floo
powder back into its container, brushed off his hands, and took hold of her jaw
gently.� With a flick of his wand and a
tingling sensation, she knew that he had healed the burn.� A smile touched his lips, one that was
slightly wicked, and a moment later she knew why.

�� Anywhere else that needs�healing?�

�� She sniffled and laughed, swatting
his hand.� �Not right now.�

�� He feigned disappointment; she
wondered, though, how fake it was.� �You
were going to tell me something on Saturday,� she spoke up.� �Something about Harry, sixth year��

�� Doubt flickered across his
features.� After a moment, he shook his
head.� �Don�t worry about it.�

�� No.�
I want to know.�

�� Trust me, you don�t.�

�� It�s better that I hear it now,
when we�re both calm.�

�� He looked uneasy.� �Are you sure?�

�� Draco,
there is no one on this earth that knows more about Harry Potter�s flaws than
me.� I can take it.�

�� All right.� Let�s take a walk, then.�

�� A walk?� I thought you didn�t want the castle hearing
what you had to say.�

�� I came to apologize � that�s the
only thing I wanted kept private.�
Everything else�� he gave her an odd look, one that was a mixture of
happiness and sadness, �the castle already knows.�

�� Finally.

�� Lucius ran
his hands down Emma�s smooth back, no longer caring for the impracticality of
it.� If someone was going to be breaking
down his door once a week and attempting to kill him, he was going to enjoy
himself on the non-killing days.� He had
been ready to bed Hermione, glorious muggleborn that
she was, not so long ago.� The jump to a muggle was not so great and he knew he had chosen wisely;
Emma was not nearly as demure as she looked.

�� He still had his qualms about her children.� But this was just sex.� Sleeping with her once did not mean he would
have to marry her or fill the shoes of another (crazy) man.� That man had to be crazy to leave her.

�� This was the best of his
doldrums-at-the-Ministry fantasies coming true.�
How many times he had wished for a horny secretary with a short skirt in
those days�but even if she ever miraculously appeared, he probably wouldn�t
have acted on it.� He wasn�t really in
the business of being unfaithful.� Now he
had no one to be unfaithful to.

�� A small spasm wracked his
heart.� Where had that come from?� He pulled Emma�s pretty face down to his and
kissed her.� It effectively eradicated
that unexpected pain.� She wasn�t a
secretary, she was a businesswoman; that was better because she had more power
and wasn�t afraid to wield it.� And
judging by the fact that she was straddling him, her skirt hiked up around her
hips, she fit both the horny and the short skirt criteria.

�� Her teeth tugged at his lower
lip.� It elevated his low throb of desire
to a monstrous roar.� At his agitated
squirm, she paused and looked down at him, for in this position she was a
little bit taller.� Her eyes were fogged
but not insensible.� If it was up to him,
they would not stay that way for very long.

�� This could create problems.� You work for me,� she breathed.

�� It was absolutely ridiculous that
she brought it up with her bare breasts a few inches from his face, and that
was the only thing that kept him from being supremely annoyed.� If she thought she could stop him � or herself� - now, she was thoroughly
mistaken.� Lucius
tugged her skirt up above where her hips had caught it and gripped her
buttocks.� He shifted her forward so that
she could feel the part of him that had been far too neglected of late.� Yes, there had been that delectable time with
Narcissa � good God, his Narcissa.� But she was not his anymore, he admonished
himself, and pushed it from his mind.� He
pressed up against the woman in his lap, one smooth roll of his hips, and her
gasp betrayed her.

�� With a smirk he announced, �I quit.�

�� It was strange to be led through the
castle by him.� The old walls had seen
many things, but rarely was it a Gryffindor and a Slytherin
walking hand in hand.� The paintings were
whispering among themselves.� Hermione smiled.� For every sad memory she had of Hogwarts,
there were twice as many good ones; it pained her to think that Draco might not feel the same.

�� He stopped and she looked around,
orienting herself.� �Moaning Myrtle�s
bathroom?�

�� The one and
only.�� He pulled the door open
and held it.� She gave him a sardonic
look; in her opinion, such a chivalrous motion was wasted on a bathroom.� Nonetheless, she went in.

�� It had been a long time.� So many things had happened here; the brewing
of Polyjuice, her accidental transformation into some
bizarre cat creature (she wondered if he knew about that), Harry and Ron
finding the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets�and if Draco
was bringing her here, apparently something else had happened, as well.� Something Harry had never told her.

�� Harry wasn�t one for secrets.� Not after so many had been kept from
him.� So for him to bite his lip and keep
something to himself�it had to be bad.�
It had to be something that made him think he�d lose them if he
told.� Or something that made him feel so ashamed that he couldn�t bear repeating it.

�� Draco was
prowling the tile floor.� It was strange
how small it seemed now; at twelve it had seemed immense, like everything else
in the castle.� Now it was just a dank,
cobwebbed, infrequently used loo.� Her eyes drifted to the sinks in the middle
of the room.� There was the marking, the
one Ron and Harry had told her about.�
Somewhere beneath their feet, the skeleton of a basilisk rested.� So, too, did the first ghost of Tom Riddle.

�� Draco used
his wand to blast a jet of air at the dusty floor.� Hermione sneezed and he gave her an
apologetic look.

�� Do you see that?� he asked after
her sneezing fit had passed.

�� See what?� The dirty floor?�

�� There�s an outline.� Do you see it?�

�� Hermione focused where he was
pointing.� Come to think of it�yes, there
was an outline, an irregular blotch with curved edges, like the stain a puddle
of water might have made.� But water
would not seep into the tile and the grout between them and color them a deep
shade of brown.� Horror bloomed inside
her.

�� Is that blood?� she asked
tremulously.� She didn�t like where this
was going.

�� Yes,� he answered abruptly.� �It�s mine.�

�� Couldn�t�couldn�t they have cleaned
it up?� she asked weakly.

�� No.�
Not when it is the result of Sectumsempra.�

�� Hermione blinked and met his
eyes.� She had never heard of that spell
before.� His glance was incredulous.� She knew what he was thinking � the
know-it-all Hermione Granger, stymied.

�� You�ve never heard of it?�

�� She shook her head.

�� I know you�ve seen it.� It was what blew George Weasley�s
ear off.�

�� Hermione gasped.� That had been one of the worst wounds she�d
ever had the misfortune of seeing.� No
matter what Molly did to try to staunch it, it wouldn�t stop bleeding.� Come to think of it, George�s blood had never
come out of her dress; she had thrown it away.�
It had scarred terribly, too, regardless of what any healer did.

�� But you � you don�t have any
scars,� she stammered.� She knew that
from experience.

�� No, and the only reason I don�t is
because the creator of the curse was the one to heal me.�

�� Who?�

�� Snape.�

�� But you said Harry--�

�� Yes, Harry was the one to use the
curse on me.�

�� Hermione was flabbergasted.� Sectumsempra was
downright ugly, and she had only seen it inflicted on a tiny part of someone�s
anatomy.� The blood stain on the floor
was much, much too big to just have been Draco�s
ear.� Oh, Merlin � how could Harry have
used that on him, knowing what it could do?�
Harry had a temper, yes, but he wasn�t a monster!

�� How�how could he!� Hermione
sputtered, pulled ten different ways by emotions.� She had to admit that in those days Draco would go out of his way to incite Harry�s rage, so
the conflict was probably justified, but�what could Draco
possibly have done to make him that
angry?

�� I�m sure you�re thinking that I
must have provoked him, and you�re right.�
I attacked him because he saw something he wasn�t supposed to see and he
retaliated.� But he didn�t know,� Draco said softly.�
�He�d read the curse scribbled in a book somewhere.� Had no idea what it could do.�

�� She was angrier at Harry for that;
he knew better than to use a spell he
didn�t know the results of!� He could
have killed Draco!� And even though they had wished many things
upon him back then, they had never wished death.

�� What�what was it like?� she dared
to ask.� George had been so blas� about
it, joking through his pain until Molly became so upset that she knocked him
out with a quick stunner.

�� Are you sure you want to know?�

�� Hermione nodded.

�� Draco gave
her a wary look, but went on.� �Well, he
got me right in the chest.� The nearest
thing I can think of to compare to is being flayed.� You know, when your skin is peeled--�

�� I know what flaying is!� she
interrupted.

�� He chuckled at her fire.

�� How can you laugh?� Hermione
asked.� �You could have died.�

�� I know.�� His smile widened.� �Do you know how many times I almost died
that year and the one after?� At least
with Potter I would have bled out quickly.�
The Dark Lord was not so merciful.�

�� She backed against the sinks and
leaned against the porcelain lip, bothered by the way he could smile when he
spoke of such things.� She had never
thought about what life must have been like for Draco.� She had assumed that he had been all in for Voldemort�s agenda up until his own hide was in
danger.� Never had she made the
connection that after the Department of Mysteries, after Lucius
was shipped snarling and spitting to Azkaban, that Draco was left to take up his mantle.� And what a mantle it had been; back then Lucius had been nearly untouchable in his hatred and his
devious intellect.� Draco
had not lived long enough to amass even a fraction of either.

�� I�m sorry,� Draco
said, interrupting her thoughts.� �I
shouldn�t bring it up.� It�s over and
done with.�

�� No,� she negated, pushing back to
her feet.� �I want to know.� I just wasn�t ready for it.�

�� He nodded.� �So�I�m not going to have to keep you from
mauling Potter, am I?�

�� Hermione smiled.� �No.� I
think he feels miserable enough about it on his own.� He was always very good at
self-flagellation.�

�� Aren�t we all,� Draco
said ruefully.� �Let�s get out of here.�

�� Lucius lay
next to her, sated and half-asleep.� Bloody hell.� Emma was
a terror in bed.� He didn�t think he�d
ever been pushed so hard by any woman.�
His neighbors were going to hate him; as she was a muggle,
he couldn�t whip out his wand and cast a silencing charm.� If they were home, the adjoining houses had
been treated to a graphic litany of sexual sounds and demands.�

�� He wondered how long she had gone
without; she was a busy woman, running her own business and raising two
children.� Surely she hadn�t neglected
herself in that way?� How was it possible?� There ought to be plenty of men who would be willing
to bend her over at a moment�s notice.�
He was on the top of that list, now.

�� He glanced at her.� She was in a deep sleep with her back to him,
her dark, sex-messed curls fanned out behind her.� He snorted to himself; she should be unconscious after the evening
they�d had.� He couldn�t imagine that she
wouldn�t be sore.� He was sore.� Such delicate
parts were not really meant for the things they�d done.� Not all the time, anyway.� Once in a while was all right�

�� He frowned to himself.� Perhaps she wanted it like that all the
time.� Maybe that was why her husband
left her.� Oh, who was he to assume that
the husband had done the leaving?� He
knew all too well that wives nowadays had no problem with severing marriages.

�� This conjecture was getting him nowhere.� He should be asleep, too.� He started to turn onto his stomach and
paused.� Swallowing and feeling stupid,
but not stupid enough to change what he was doing, Lucius
moved closer to her.� Lifting the sheet,
he molded himself against her bare skin. �His arm draped around her waist.� Grateful that she was asleep and that no one
was watching, he rested his cheek in her curls.

�� It had been too long since he was
able to curl up to a warm, soft body.�
Hermione�s venture into his bed two months ago had nearly killed
him.� The girl had no idea how sorely
he�d been tempted.� In the end, though,
his loyalty to his son won out and he avoided complicating the
already-complicated situation any further.

�� Emma was an excellent substitute,
and he hoped a frequent one.� She
presented an interesting challenge, being a muggle,
but he found that he didn�t care.� No,
just now he didn�t care�and he didn�t care how weak and needy it was to find so
much comfort against her warm back.� He
lay there, trying not to think about how rarely he had done the same with Narcissa.� Perhaps if
he had just�no, that chance was come and gone.�
Maybe he could craft something better from the splinters of that
relationship, or maybe he couldn�t; right now it didn�t matter.

�� At last he dropped into a fitful
sleep, luxuriating in the fact that he was not alone.

��

�� Oh!� Hermione gasped.� �This is beautiful.�

�� Yes,� Draco
agreed.� �I really can�t complain.�

�� They stood on the roof of his
building and the city stretched out beneath them.� Straight ahead there was a river, the name of
which she didn�t know, and a tremendous bridge straddled its banks.� Blue lights were placed along its graceful
arcs, outlining it in the dark of early evening.� There were boats, too, antique things with
their many sails rolled up and their masts peeking above the horizon.

�� If she turned she could see the
cluster of skyscrapers.� There were not
as many as she might have thought but each one was uniquely crafted and lit up
in different colors.� Everywhere else,
buildings and residential homes sprawled in a tremendous radius.� The hum of city noise created a low, constant
rumble, and the never-ending lights winked in the distortion of a summer night.

�� So this is Greene�s building?� she
asked.

�� Yes.� He likes all his students to live together in
order to�let�s see, how did he put it�in order to
�till the soil of ideation�.�

�� Hermione chuckled.� �Are most of your classmates from here?�

�� There are eight of us, total.� Two are from here, one from New
York City, one from Hawaii, one
from Germany, one from South Africa, one from Japan.� And me, of course.�

�� She nodded, a little jealous that he
was going to be able to spend time with intellectual equals from all over the
world.� �Are there any women?� she
asked.� Potions was
notorious for being a male-dominated field; for every ten men, there might be
one woman.

�� Just one,� Draco
responded, confirming her suspicions.�
�And she�s already spoken for, so you don�t have to worry.�

�� I wasn�t worried.�

�� He turned, raised an eyebrow, and
smirked.� �Maybe I should be worried
about you�all alone in that drafty old castle.�

�� Don�t be ridiculous,� she rebuked.

�� Draco
chuckled and closed the distance between.�
He wrapped his arms about her from behind, resting his chin on her
shoulder. ��I thought of something, while
I was trying to figure out how to apologize.�

�� I should apologize, too,� she said,
leaning against him.� �I really didn�t
think Harry would�� Hermione trailed off, shaking her head.� �I�m sorry.�

�� We�re even, then.�� His lips ghosted against her ear.� �Do you want to hear my idea?�

�� She nodded, if just to feel the
light friction again.

�� All right.� I want you to think of every date or outing
or trip that Weasley never would have taken you
on.� Write them down in a list.� Then, every week you and I will do one or two
of them � within reason, of course.�

�� Hermione�s eyes widened.� Oh, there was a virtual scroll of things she had always wanted to do with a significant
other that Ron had never seemed interested in.�
Half of them were just foolish romantic yearnings, like picnics or
moonlit strolls on a beach, but if Draco was going to
give her license to fulfill all those things, she would have absolutely no
problems forcing him to make good on it.

�� Are you sure?� she asked.

�� Well, if you say it that way, I
think maybe I should put a limit on it.��
He paused thoughtfully.� �The list
can only be twenty items.� That should
give us enough time to get to know one another like a proper couple, instead of
just shagging one another�s brains out�� he trailed off.

�� I like shagging,� Hermione
pouted.� �We can still shag during this
endeavor, right?�

�� Draco
snorted.� �I may be seriously endangering
my dignity, but never my libido.�

�� She laughed.� �Good.��
She twisted in his arms, intent upon kissing him, but the sound of a
door opening and crashing shut gave her pause.�
Hermione�s breath left her body as she located the intruder.� It was Finley Jacob Greene himself.

�� He was a tall black man, thin and
gangly, with a shock of wiry grey hair.�
He wore his robes loosely and unfastened.� They had the look of robes that had once been
very nice and expensive, but through constant wear and cleansing, became
comfortably worn and faded.� He walked
across the rooftop, pausing at the edge and looking out at the bridge just like
she had a few minutes before.

�� He lit a thin cigar and then cocked
his head at them.� �This
your girlfriend, Mr. Malfoy?� he asked.� His voice was a crisp baritone, warm and
commanding at the same time.

�� Yes, sir,� Draco
responded, releasing her and giving her a slight shove in the other man�s
direction.� �This is Ms. Hermione
Granger.�

�� Hermione Granger?� Greene asked,
her name sounding different in his accent.�
He took her hand firmly and shook.�
�The Potions Mistress at Hogwarts School?�

�� Hermione nodded, unable to form
words in her nervousness at meeting him.

�� I hear that you were one of the
youngest ever to receive that certification,� he mused.� �The youngest woman,
certainly.� But I think that�s
only for lack of women in this field.�

�� Yes,� Hermione agreed, finding her
voice again.� �I�ve been trying very hard
to encourage the girls who show an aptitude in my classes.�

�� I�m sure you�ll have great
success.� You are much more endearing
than the last Hogwarts Potions Master, rest his soul.�

�� Thank goodness,� Draco murmured.

�� Well, I suppose it was not his job
to be endearing,� Greene shrugged.� �He
was one of the few that were certified younger than you, Ms. Granger.�

�� When?� she asked,
curious.

�� He was seventeen.� Before he even graduated he sat the exam and
the practical and got perfect scores on both.�
I had only just gotten my certification and I was ten years his senior
at that point.� I confess I felt a bit
inadequate.�

�� I think we all did, around him,� Hermione
said, shaking her head.

�� Yes.� Snape was one of
those.� He would have done great things
if he had survived,� Greene sighed.� �But
I see that he left behind at least two students that could do great things in
his stead.�

�� Hermione blushed furiously.� �Thank you, Mr. Greene.�

�� Well, I�ll leave you two to your
kissing,� the older man smiled.� �Such
things are highly necessary for the creative process.� Ms. Granger, you are always welcome.� If you ever tire of teaching the next
generation, my door is open.�� He stubbed
out the cigar that he had barely smoked and dropped it into his pocket.� Then he turned and disappeared through the
door, his footsteps echoing in the stairwell.�

�� Hermione stood still, stunned and
fluttery.� Finley Greene had just extended
an invitation to her.� He had more or
less told her that she was welcome to study with him.� She could have jumped up and down and
squealed, but Draco�s arms snaking around her
prevented her from doing so.

�� You heard the man,� Draco whispered, lips against her ear, his hips flush
against her rear.� �Kissing is highly
necessary for my creative process.�

�� With a giggle that seldom escaped
her, she turned and pounced on him.� His
reflexes were quick and he caught her by the back of her thighs, smiling as her
legs wrapped around his waist.� And so
they kissed, the Ben Franklin Bridge
twinkling in the background and the many sounds of Philadelphia forming a pleasant cacophony
around them.�

September 25

�� The thought of the funicolare was
almost too much to bear.� Narcissa had calmed down significantly in the walk from Scattori�s empty house.�
She had sent the bird back with her bold note and stubbornly stood there
for a further 45 minutes, fuming and wishing that Scattori
would show his rotten face.� Slowly,
though, sense sank back into her and she realized that there was no point in
waiting for the enemy.� This was his
turf; if his good humor did not hold, she could find herself severely
outnumbered and in a very bad situation.

�� Deciding that she would rather risk
exposure than go through the rickety cable car ride again, Narcissa
ducked into an alleyway and apparated.� The sounds and smells of Adriatica
Alley immediately assaulted her.� In the
safety of her own home � or rather, Giacomo�s home,
as it was not hers just yet � she could plot.

�� He greeted her at the door and
appeared surprised.�

�� Narcissa,
my dear, I did not know you went out.�

�� Yes,� she breezed by him, �I needed
some fresh air.�

�� Where did you go?� he asked,
genuinely interested.� This was the kind
of small talk that she had never been able to indulge in with Lucius.� Lucius usually didn�t give a shiny galleon where she had
been.� It had its benefits, but sometimes
it irked her that he wasn�t interested.

�� Down to Capri,�
she responded. ��I heard that it was
beautiful.�

�� Oh yes?�� He took her gloves and her small handbag,
ever the gentleman.� She did not see the
apprehensive look that flashed across his face.�
�Was it to your liking?� I have
thought about buying some property there.�

�� It was nice,� she said, �but one
visit is enough for me.�

�� Next time you wish to go somewhere,
perhaps we can go together,� he smiled.�
�I can put someone else in charge at work.�� A moment later his decorum was broken by his
ingrained machismo; he moved forward to drape an arm around her waist and press
his fit body against hers suggestively.�
�You look very pretty in that dress, Narcissa.�

�� Normally that kind of comment would
have charmed the dress right off her.� Giacomo had his flaws but he was quite good in bed.� Today, however, it only annoyed her.� �I�m tired, Giacomo.� Wake me for dinner.�

�� Of course, love.�� He released her and she strode away, her
heels clicking loudly on the marble floors.

�� Once inside their room, Narcissa removed the shoes and crawled into the massive
bed.� She was tired, though she knew she wouldn�t get any sleep.� Thoughts were whirling in her head, piecing
themselves together in the aftermath of her anger at being thwarted.

�� It
was a Mancini hit at its finest; I did not order it nor do I condone it.� Scattori�s words
scrolled through her mind.� A Mancini
hit.� He was blaming the other half of
the crime family.� Perhaps there was
trouble in paradise�

�� Yes.�
That had to be it.� Gaetano and his repugnant wife Rita had fled England
for obvious reasons, two attempted murder charges among them, but perhaps there
was something more.� Perhaps another
Mafia war was brewing behind closed doors in old Milano��

�� She heard Lucius�s
voice in her head, reciting lines from his letter with cool precision.� I know
that you will do what you want, but these people are dangerous.� Your fianc� may be in their pockets, or they
in his; if they are bold enough to attack Draco and
I, nothing will stop them from coming after you if they deem it necessary.� Every moment you spend in Milan may bring you closer to peril.� Narcissa, I could
not bear it if you were hurt�so please exercise your better judgment, whatever
that may be.� I have never had great
judgment, myself, so I don�t presume to tell you what to do.

�� Narcissa
exhaled shakily.� The next lines had
rocked her to the core.

�� I
love you and I always have.� My floo connection is open and set to admit you.

�� And that was it.� Damn him and his masterful ambiguity.� True, there was nothing ambiguous about the
declaration of love, but�it was entirely unfair how two little sentences could
send her into a spiral of what-ifs.� He
probably meant nothing by it.� He
probably meant exactly what he said � he loved her and his floo
connection was open.� She shouldn�t read
into it.� She wouldn�t read into it.

��

September 19

�� Lucius
woke to the sound of someone pounding on his door.� Groggy, he lifted his head away from the spot
between Emma�s shoulder blades and blinked.�
The clock said 10:18 am.� He
probably should have been awake, anyway, but since his completion of business
with his wizarding clients (the Bulstrodes
and the Flints)
and his apparent severance of services with Emma, he only had four
clients.� Three of which were barely
concerned about their taxes just yet.�
One of which was the force of nature known as Franz.� He knew that Franz would be the only one that
bothered him today and thankfully that was only by phone or e-mail.� So who the hell was at his door?

�� He extracted himself from the bed,
careful not to wake Emma, and pulled on some pajama bottoms.� He made a mental note to feed Oberon when he
walked by the playroom and then, without ceremony, he pulled open the front door.

�� Can I help you, Minister?� he said,
feeling much more awake at the sight of Kingsley Shacklebolt
on his doorstep.

�� No, but I can help you,� the other
man responded.� �Lucius
Malfoy, I am here to inform you that the Ministry and
the Wizengamot have seen fit to reconsider your
sentencing this morning.� They voted to
commute your sentence, and a tally of 187 to 34 passed the motion.� You are therefore released from the last two
years, seven months of your sentence based on evidence of rehabilitation and
good behavior.�� Shacklebolt
paused and took a deep breath.� He
reached into his pocket and emerged with something that nearly stopped Lucius�s heart in his chest.� It was his wand.� Shacklebolt held it
out, a stern look on his face.� �Do not make me regret this, Malfoy.�

�� Lucius
couldn�t make himself reach for the sliver of wood.

�� Take it, Lucius,�
Kingsley prompted.� �You�ve earned it.�

�� This isn�t�this isn�t some sick
joke?� Lucius asked, his
eyes distrustful and his voice strained.

�� With an exasperated sigh, Shacklebolt reached out, grabbed his wrist, and pressed the
wand into his palm.� The magic that
coursed through him at its touch made him gasp; his fingers clenched
reflexively around the wand, no longer able to deny its pull.�

�� Like I said,� Kingsley intoned, �do
not make me regret this.�

�� I��

�� From now on we won�t be monitoring
you anymore.� With your wand you should
be able to keep yourself out of trouble.�
Of course, if you have any serious concerns the Auror
department will always be willing to assist you.�

�� Yes, of course.�

�� Baggins in the finance department
also wanted you to know that if you wanted your old job back, he�s sure there�s
some underachiever that he can be rid of.�

�� Lucius
blinked.� Then he leveled his gaze at Shacklebolt.� �Hex
me.�

�� What?�� The Minister looked at him as if he�d gone
mad.

�� Hex me.� This can�t be real.�

�� I am not going to hex you.�

�� Lucius
looked at the wand in his hand.� Slowly,
he turned it so that it was pointing at his own chest.

�� Nothing drastic now, Malfoy,� Shacklebolt warned,
catching his hand.� �I didn�t give it
back so that you could injure yourself with it.�

�� Other people have been doing a
spectacular job of that in the absence of my self-injurious tendencies,� Lucius returned, having regained a portion of his
wits.� He dropped his hand back to his
side.� It itched with possibility and he
had the distinct feeling that he was going to have to go into the dogs�
playroom and shoot off fireworks.

�� Yes, well, that shouldn�t be a
problem anymore.�� Shacklebolt�s
eyes flickered to a spot over Lucius�s shoulder
before he leaned in and whispered, �Your lady friend is awake.� I suggest you put the wand away.�

�� Lucius
glared at him; in his current state of dress, there was nowhere to put it.� Kingsley smirked and stepped back out of the
doorway.

�� I say this with the most respect
possible,� the Minister of Magic stated, his voice still low to prevent Lucius�s guest from hearing, �it has been interesting, but
I really don�t ever want to see you again, Malfoy.�

�� Likewise,� Lucius
replied, �though I�m sure I won�t be so fortunate, what with you being
Minister.�

�� Shacklebolt
smiled and excused himself.� Lucius shut the door, still in shock in spite of his snappy
retorts.�

�� What�s that?� Emma asked a moment
later, leaning in the door of the study.�
She had noticed the wand in his hand.

�� It�s nothing,� Lucius
responded.� He gave the wand a glance
that was half filled with longing, half with trepidation, before opening a
drawer in the small decorative table near the door and dropping the piece of
wood inside.� �Nothing
at all.��
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Some Blond Fool