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A Pound of Flesh	By : PennilynNovus Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 145349 -:- Recommendations : 9 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. They belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, and Warner Brothers. I'm not making any money off of this. I'm writing it for my own amusement (and y

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Chapter Fourteen: A Decision

A young man dressed as a construction worker stumbled over his feet as the spotlight clicked up on him. Hermione spared him a glance as he fumbled with his shirt before she resumed her inspection of the Revue�s Talent Manager, Louie Strong. He was a bulky man, muscular with an olive complexion and dark hair that was slicked back and hung to the collar of his plum business jacket. He chain smoked, and a cigarette dangled from his fingers, which were adorned with gold rings. He had dark, deep set eyes hidden beneath a cloud of bushy black eyebrows, and currently, he looked very bored.

The construction worker pulled his t-shirt off over his head, but it got tangled up on his hardhat. Someone in the abnormally quiet audience tittered, and Hermione felt a swell of sympathy for the young man, who looked to be near her age. He finally emerged from the t-shirt, his face flushed, and replaced his hardhat.

Sunday nights, Hermione had learned from Draco, were amateur nights at the strip club, a chance for aspiring strippers to get onstage and get their kit off. Draco told her he�d shown up at the club on one such night. After a successful routine which had the women in the club practically salivating � his words � the Talent Manager Louie had offered him a job on the spot.

Draco was not at the club tonight; he had the evening off. But Hermione hadn�t come to see Draco, she�d come to see Louie. She�d been waiting some time now for a chance to get him alone, but he�d been surrounded by assistants and talent since she�d first walked in. He grimaced and turned to his assistant on his left side, and shook his head. The woman, pale with spiky red hair and chunky black glasses, made a show of crossing the construction worker�s name from the list.

Hermione adjusted the small, round glasses on the bridge of her nose and ran a hand through her straight, shoulder-length black hair. She beckoned the barkeep over.

�Whatta ya have?�

Hermione pointed to Louie. �I need to speak with that man.�

The barkeep snorted. �You and everyone else. He�s busy.�

�Is that a fact?� Hermione pulled a shiny cardholder from her pocket and slid one of her forged business cards across the surface of the bar. The barkeep quirked an eyebrow at her and deftly plucked the card off the bar. He froze as he read the card, and then he looked over the top of the card at her. He smiled weakly.

�I�ll let him know you�re here.�

Hermione nodded coolly.

The barkeep bolted from behind the bar and hurried over to Louie. He leaned over and whispered in the man�s ear, extending the card. In one moment, Louie�s appearance went from bored to tense, and he sat up in his chair. His head swiveled on his neck, and he stared over at Hermione, his face calculating and greedy.

He stood, brushing aside his assistants, and approached her with a swagger in his step. �Louie Strong, Talent Manager,� he said, extending his hand.

�Blanche Sway, Location Manager, Vertigo Films.� Hermione shook his hand firmly, squeezing until she sensed his rings biting into his flesh.

�A pleasure, Blanche,� Louie said as he extricated his hand.

�You can call me Ms. Sway,� Hermione informed him. A flicker of annoyance crossed the man�s face, and Hermione couldn�t figure out why she was suddenly bent on irritating him. Besides the fact that she instantly disliked him, of course. He reminded her of someone, but she couldn�t remember who.

�What can I help you with this evening, Ms. Sway?�

The construction worker plodded across the stage in a pair of white underwear, and Louie grimaced. He glanced up at the spotlight operator, a man on a platform beside the bar, and slashed his hand across his throat. The spotlight flicked off, and a moment later, the stage went dark. The women in the club clapped politely, and Hermione was filled with absolute loathing for the man before her.

�Would you mind if we adjourned somewhere quieter?�

Louie nodded. �My office is this way.� He led her through the door to the backstage area and motioned her into an expansive room. A huge desk sat in the middle of the room, and two leather chairs faced the desk. On the walls, large photographs of half-naked men smiled down at her seductively, and she saw Draco�s face among them. He looked thinner, and his eyes were haunted. She could see why he was so popular. What woman wouldn�t find him mysterious and attractive?

�So, Location Manager for Vertigo Films,� Louie said as he eased down into the high-backed chair behind the desk. �You�re interested in using the Revue for a movie?�

Hermione looked away from Draco�s picture. �We�re considering several locations for an upcoming production. One of my scouts told me about this place. Said the talent here was unsurpassed.� She smiled in practiced condescension.

�Yes. Oh, but it is,� Louie assured her. �Tonight is amateur night. You picked a bad night to come.�

�I see.�

Louie edged forward in his seat. �My regular talent goes on later this evening, if you don�t mind waiting around. Drinks on the house, of course.�

�Of course.�

�My best boy isn�t here tonight; it�s his night off. We actually found him on amateur night a couple years ago.�

�Oh?�

Louie rounded the desk and stood in front of Draco�s picture. �Damien King. He came from nowhere.�

�Nowhere?�

Louie looked away from the picture, and Hermione was disturbed to see the lust in his eyes.

�You can�t make up a story like his. Amnesia. He showed up one night with a woman, and asked for a job as a barkeep. I put him up on stage instead. He got a bit of a slow start, but then he warmed up. The women loved him.�

�Amnesia?�

Louie nodded and reached up to run his hand over the picture�s lips. �After I gave him a job, I sent him on to the hospital just to make sure he wasn�t gonna keel over and die on my stage, make sure there wasn�t anything wrong with his brain. Came back a few days later with a clean bill of health and said he�d been offered a place to live but he couldn�t afford it. I gave him an advance.� He said the last bit proudly, as though he hoped she would be impressed with his generosity.

�How benevolent of you.� Hermione wanted to smack his hand away from the picture. The way he caressed the contours of Draco�s face in photograph made her feel ill.

�He�ll be here tomorrow, if you want to come see him. Damien King,� he repeated.

Hermione reached into her sleeve and withdrew her wand from the holster. Louie stared at her uncomprehending for a moment, and then recognition flashed in his eyes. �You � � he began, but he didn�t get the chance to finish.

�Legilimens.�

***

Shaking with tremors, Hermione ducked into the alley next to the club and leaned against the wall. She wrapped her arms around herself and took a deep breath. She�d done what she�d had to do. Her head ached as it always did after Legilimency, but that wasn�t the cause of her tremors. It was the Memory Charm she�d performed on Louie before she�d left his office. She couldn�t let him remember her drawing her wand on him. So she modified his memory to remove that portion of the interview, and replaced it with a false memory of her saying her people would call his people.

After the war, she�d told herself she would never use a Memory Charm on anyone again. It was the main reason she�d turned down the Obliviators� repeated requests to work with them. She�d always found a way around needing to modify anyone�s memories. But something about the lustful way Louie had been staring at Draco�s picture had driven all rational thought from her head.

She reached into her purse and felt for the vial with Louie�s memories. She�d copied them from his head for later viewing in her Pensieve. What she�d seen didn�t really make sense, so she was hoping that a second viewing would help.

Feeling lightheaded, Hermione reached up to push her hair out of her face. Her hand brushed against the glasses on her face. She ripped them off and tossed them to the side. She looked both ways and then waved her wand over her body. Blanche Sway faded from existence, and Hermione never wanted to wear her again.

With one final shudder, she stepped further into the alley, hid behind a stack of crates, and Disapparated.

***

The club was hazy; smoke filled the air and drifted like wisps of fog through patches of light. Loud music, distorted as though coming from a warped vinyl record, filled the cramped space and flooded Hermione�s ears. She turned slowly and gazed around at the crowd of women, the scattered flashes of light against bare flesh throughout the club, and the stage, which looked just as it had when she�d left the Revue a half hour before.

It distracted her how little things had changed in three years.

Hermione spotted Louie easily enough from her spot by the front door. Seated at the same table, in the same chair, and with the same assistant next to him with a clipboard clutched in her talons, Louie watched the stage, disinterested.

Then the picture blurred; everything shifted and grew foggy. But when Draco walked into the club, he was crystal clear, the only thing in the room that looked real. His angular face was pale and drawn, hollows under his eyes and cheekbones. He moved like he was walking under water, like every movement taxed him. He was not alone. He followed behind a woman, but try as she might, Hermione could not bring the woman�s face into focus.

Hermione squinted, determined to glean some sort of identification from the woman�s appearance. It was obvious that Louie�s memories had been tampered with. The woman was the same height as Draco, and Hermione thought her hair might be blonde, but in the shifting light of the club, it seemed the woman�s hair changed colors as well. The woman�s clothing, as well, seemed to morph shapes and colors, as if her body was in a constant state of flux. Her hands and arms were bare � no rings, no bracelets, no Dark Mark.

The woman stopped, and Draco stopped a few feet behind her. She turned back to Draco, and said, �Now, Damien.�

Her voice terrified Hermione. It was nightmarish, echoing and distorted, almost as though from her one mouth, fifty different voices spoke in unison. Evil, Hermione decided. This woman was evil.

�You need a job. You need it tonight.�

Draco nodded in acceptance, his tormented eyes dark and empty.

�You have no other options. This is your last chance, understand?�

Draco nodded again. He did not look afraid or worried. He looked around, but his face was devoid of curiosity, of recognition, of any emotion.

�You here to audition?�

The woman spun to face the doorman Bruce, and her hand darted toward her pocket. Then she froze, and Hermione, though she could not see the woman�s face, was certain that she smiled.

Bruce took a step back.

�Well, he�s here to look for a job. Barkeep, or whatever.�

Bruce shrugged. �Not hiring anyone for the bar, but he�s always looking for new talent.� The large man raised a beefy hand and pointed to where Louie sat.

There was a pause. The woman did not move, and Draco stared at the stage, his eyes following the motions of the blurry man who danced in the spotlight. He swallowed.

�Come, Damien,� the woman said shortly. �You�ll ask about the bar first.�

Hermione followed as the pair wound their way to the table where Louie sat. The woman�s shape grew more distorted, but Draco, if possible, grew even sharper in contrast. Louie looked up in interest.

Louie�s assistant lazily glanced up. �Name?�

The woman jabbed Draco in the side, and he blinked. �Damien,� he said.

The assistant rolled her eyes. �Full name?�

�Damien King,� the woman broke in. �He�s here for a job. Are you hiring at the bar?�

Louie�s piercing eyes never wavered from Draco�s face. �Not the bar, but I bet he�d be incredible on stage,� he said.

The woman paused, and Draco turned his face away. Hermione turned as well, to see where he looked. He was watching the stage again, and his eyes narrowed as the man on stage ripped off his tear-away trousers.

At last, the woman spoke, her distorted voice harsh. �What does he need to sign up?�

�Costume, musical selection, identification proving he�s of age,� the assistant said in a monotone voice.

�He just turned eighteen,� the still unidentified woman was quick to say. �And he�s not in school anymore, so that won�t present a problem.�

�Still need identification.�

The woman paused again. �The thing is, he�s got amnesia.�

�So he doesn�t have identification?�

Draco�s companion shifted, and the memory grew even hazier. A moment later, Louie�s assistant blinked.

�Yes, that appears to be in order, then,� the assistant said. �He�ll need a costume and music.�

Hermione hissed. Whoever this woman was, she had just Confunded a Muggle.

�Do you have spare costumes?�

�In the back,� Louie interjected, his dark eyes focused on Draco�s profile.

�And music?�

�He can pick it from the book up at the desk.�

The woman grabbed Draco�s arm, and he turned back to the conversation. �Come, Damien. Let�s find you a costume.�

Hermione tried to follow, but it took her too far from Louie. As soon as the woman slipped backstage, towing Draco behind her, the fog that hung in the air dissipated and the music returned to normal speed.

Louie leaned over to his assistant. �Bump him up. I want to see him dance.�

Hermione uneasily paced the length of the club and waited for Draco�s mysterious companion to reappear. Several amateurs danced across the stage in that time, and Hermione paid them no attention at all. After what seemed like an unbearable wait, Louie�s assistant leaned in.

�King is next.�

And sure enough, when the lights snapped on, Draco stood center stage and stared blankly into the crowd.

Louie sat upright in his seat. �Come on, kid. Do something.�

Draco was dressed in his king�s costume, complete with waistcoat and cape. He spread his arms and looked down at himself, and then he raised his head and looked up into the lights in despair. Hermione�s breath caught in her throat.

He brought one hand up and touched his face. His eyes slipped shut and the women in the club whistled in appreciation. He opened his eyes, startled, and his chest heaved as he took a deep breath. Then his face went blank, and he spun on spot, the cape flaring out around him.

His act was shaky, and his movements were clearly borrowed from the strippers that had preceded him, but he smoldered like a red-hot ember, and the women in the audience cheered him on enthusiastically.

Draco was down to a pair of tight black underpants when the lights faded on him, and the crowd roared in delight. Louie leaned over to his assistant.

�Hire him.�

The assistant nodded and bent over her clipboard. Louie stood and strode for the backstage door, and Hermione rushed to follow.

Draco stood in the wings. His chest rose and fell as he tried to control his breathing. �Where did she go?� he demanded when he saw Louie.

�Who?�

Draco looked frustrated. �Her � my � the � that woman!�

Louie looked around. �I don�t know, kid.�

Draco slumped against a wall. His grey eyes, which had been so dull, shone with unshed tears.

�Hey, you okay?�

With a sneer, Draco pushed himself up. �I can�t remember anything.�

Louie looked confused. �What?�

�I can�t remember anything!� Draco snarled. �I don�t even know who I am!�

�Damien King,� Louie supplied. �Aren�t you?�

Draco glared at him, and Louie�s lips curled up in a seductive smile. �Don�t you want to know how you did?�

�How did I do?� Draco replied, surly.

�You did great, kid. You�re hired.�

Draco nodded and took a shuddering breath. He leaned against the wall again and closed his eyes.

�You sure you�re okay?�

�No! I�m not okay! I can�t remember anything!� Draco sounded almost hysterical.

�You�re serious. That woman, she was telling the truth. You have amnesia!� Louie looked gleeful. He rubbed his hands together. �We�d better get you checked out.�

***

Hermione watched the scene twice more before she placed her Pensieve back into the cupboard in her office. She felt sick to her stomach, and her head spun. She sat in her chair, dizzy, and hung her head between her knees.

She was no closer to unraveling the mystery of who had abandoned Draco three years prior. Of course the woman had disguised herself, and of course she�d gone back and modified Louie�s memory later. The blurry images were a clear indication of a memory that had been tampered with.

And she�d never wanted to restore Draco�s memories more than she did at this moment. She shuddered in sympathy for him. How horrible it must have been for him, frightened and confused, to suddenly find that the one person he could cling to was gone. She wanted him to remember so he could tell her who had done this to him, so she could track that woman down and hurt her.

Once her head stopped spinning, she fled her office. She took a long, hot shower but she could not seem to stop her teeth from chattering. She could not get warm.

She dressed in her warmest pajamas and threw an extra blanket on the bed before she climbed under the sheets. In no time, her pajamas stuck to her sweaty body, but she still felt cold. Just before she slipped into a restless slumber, two tears tracked down her cheek. And then she slept.

The dream came upon her hard and fast.

Hermione ran down an endless hallway. It was dark, cold, and eerily silent. Her feet made no noise on the thick carpet, and her legs were heavy. She saw a sliver of light at the end of the hallway, hardly more than a pinprick of light in the darkness, but she struggled toward it, certain it was her destination.

But the light never grew closer, and the hallway grew narrower and narrower until it brushed her shoulders on both sides. She turned sideways and pushed on. She had to get to the light. The answers were there, she knew. But the hallway continued to narrow until Hermione could not force her body forward any longer. She reached out a hand to the light, which faded to darkness.

She began to cry as the complete blackness descended on her like a heavy blanket. She turned to go back the way she�d come and found the way blocked. Draco, his skin glowing as though he were lit from within, stood in her way. His face was gaunt and terrified, but Hermione had never been so happy to see him.

�Draco,� she cried in relief.

�Please, please, Granger. You must help me.�

�I�m trying!� Hermione told him, and she reached out to touch him. But her hand passed right through him.

�I�m trapped here. You have to get me out.�

�I�m trying!� she protested again. �I am!�

�Dumbledore said there were ways of hiding people�� He began to fade.

�No!� Hermione lunged forward to grab him, but he was gone, and she was again alone in the darkness.

She jerked awake. She was upright in bed, her hands stretched out in front of her. For a long moment, she remained frozen, gulping mouthfuls of cool air. She sobbed in relief as she placed herself in her bedroom and realized she�d been dreaming. The clock told her it was just past six in the morning, and Hermione leaned back against her pillows, wide awake.

Closing her eyes was a mistake, however, as the image of Draco�s pale, haunted face swam behind her eyelids. She rubbed her face in agitation and opened her eyes again. She rolled onto her side to stare at her window with its drawn shades. Her heart hammered in her chest and made it hard to breathe.

Abruptly, she sat up and threw the covers back. She groped around in the dark for a dressing gown and stubbed her toe on the trunk in the corner. She found the dressing gown hanging on the bathroom door and pulled it on as she hurried down the hall. She paused long enough to grab her wand and a book she had no intention of reading, and then she left her flat.

The garden courtyard was deserted at this time of day, and the sky glowed with the hint of the coming day. A thick rain fell, however, and a gust of wind blew Hermione�s sweaty hair in her face. She brushed it away and took her customary seat next to the fountain. The rain fell against her shoulders as she leaned forward and cradled her head in her hands.

She honestly wasn�t sure when she�d made the decision to not reinforce Draco�s Memory Charm. It hadn�t been an active choice. And she realized with a suddenness that left her gasping painfully that she was actively trying to find a way to reverse the charm, to give him his memories back.

She�d known that her time with Draco would be limited; it was part of the reason she�d decided to quit fighting her desire to be with him, and just enjoy the gift that had been given to her. But before, she�d known it couldn�t last because she could not keep up a double life, nor could she keep him a secret. She would have reinforced his Memory Charm and left him as a Muggle, free from the horrors of his old life. And she would have kept tabs on him for the rest of his life, even if she could no longer be a part of it.

But now, she realized that her time with Draco would end, not because she would ever choose to leave him, but because once his memories were restored, he would want nothing to do with her. And even if he did � she laughed at her foolish hopefulness � he would have to leave anyway, go into hiding somewhere where he wasn�t a wanted man.

She would find a way to restore his memories, one way or another. She wasn�t the cleverest witch of her age for nothing.

A cold trickle of rain slid down her neck, and Hermione shivered. The heat wave was over at last.

***

�Dung�s seeing dead people again,� Susan announced as she dropped the file on Hermione�s desk.

It was Wednesday, and it had rained steadily for three days. Hermione had been staring rather glumly out the charmed window at the bleak landscape. It suited her grey mood well. Now she tore her attention away from the window to look dully at her partner.

�You�re kidding.�

Susan shook her head. �Wish I was.�

Hermione forced herself to look down at the folder and pretend to be interested. �Who�s he seen now?�

�See for yourself.�

Hermione flipped open the folder, exasperated.

Then she froze.

Fuck.

�He saw Draco Malfoy?�

Susan face split in a wry smile. �This one might actually turn out to be true. You know they never found his body.�

Hermione nodded numbly. Yes, she knew that very well.

She clenched her hand into a fist and read the details of Dung�s sighting. Dung had seen Draco walking away from Diagon Alley that morning, dressed as a Muggle. But she knew what he�d really seen was Draco walking from her flat on his way back to his. Diagon Alley just happened to be on the way. Hermione felt ill.

�Right in your neighborhood,� Susan laughed. �Wouldn�t that be something. You could turn a corner and run smack into him.�

�Right,� Hermione laughed shakily. �As if Voldemort would ever let Draco Malfoy live.�

Susan shrugged. �You never know. Stranger things have happened.�

�Oh, come on.� Hermione tried very hard to sound as if the very idea was ridiculous. �Dung�s been seeing dead people once a month for the last three years. He only does it when he runs out of rent money and Tom kicks him out of the Leaky Cauldron, and he needs a place to stay.�

Susan pouted. �You take all the fun out of things, Hermione. Let a girl dream, will you? Yummy Draco Malfoy back from the dead. Witch Weekly would have a field day.�

�Yummy Draco Malfoy?� Hermione repeated, gobsmacked.

�I know you may not have noticed, Hermione, but Draco Malfoy was rather easy on the eyes. Even if he was a giant wanker.�

�Well, I hope for Draco Malfoy�s sake that this is just another one of Dung�s hallucinations. If Draco Malfoy came back from the dead, he�d spend the rest of his life in Azkaban.�

Susan frowned. �You never know. They might show him some leniency. I�ve read his file. So have you.�

�What?�

�Don�t pretend you don�t know what I�m talking about.�

�I wasn�t,� Hermione denied, startled. �I just didn�t realize��

�I�m not part of the MLE because of my good looks, Hermione. I can, on occasion, see what�s in front of my face. That day I caught you in here on your day off � what was it � last month? You shuffled his file into the middle of your stack so I wouldn�t notice.� Susan peered at her. �You said you had an idea but it turned out you were wrong.�

�Right,� Hermione stammered.

�Or was it because you�d seen him too?�

Hermione swallowed, panicked, and took a deep breath. The office felt very warm all of a sudden. �I thought I had. But I�d also been drinking a lot. It made me nervous so I came to look at his file, just to see if it was possible that he was still alive.�

�And?�

�You�ve seen his file, Susan. There�s eye-witness accounts of his death. Memories from Lestrange and Carrow. Voldemort tortured him to death.�

Susan shrugged as if to say �So?�

Hermione took another deep breath. �Anyway, I saw the guy again a couple days later. It wasn�t him. Looks a lot like him. Probably who Dung saw.�

Susan�s face fell. �Really?� she asked glumly. �I was hoping for some excitement. It�s been downright dull around here lately.�

�We probably don�t even need to go talk to Dung.�

With a laugh, Susan leaned back in her chair. �That would be nice, but I don�t think we can bend those rules.�

So it was with a great deal of trepidation that Hermione followed Susan down to Ranter�s Row, where Dung was napping in his customary cell.

Susan rapped on the bars and Dung looked up at them groggily.

�Caused a bit of a scene this morning at the Leaky, didn�t you?� Susan asked.

Dung�s rather incoherent take on events left Hermione feeling even worse. �So let me get this straight,� she said as she leaned against the cool bars of Dung�s cell. �You saw him, yelled his name and ran after him, and he ran away?�

�An� �e looked scared,� Dung added.

�I�d be scared too if I saw you chasing after me,� Hermione muttered.

Then, dutifully, Hermione followed Susan to her own neighborhood, to the corner where Dung had spotted Draco, four blocks from her flat, one block past the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione swallowed. She hadn�t even considered what route Draco would take to get home. She always took him the roundabout way so that he wouldn�t walk past the Leaky, but she�d given no thought to which way he would go when he was alone.

She closed her eyes and thought. How many times would Draco have walked past the Leaky Cauldron?

With a muted sigh, she realized just the once. She�d been with him every other time he�d left her flat. Still, it was once too many. Draco would not be able to stay at her flat again on days when she could not walk with him back to his flat, suggesting the more roundabout route.

She could not believe more people had not seen Draco, until Susan looked up from the file and pointed one block west. �He said he saw him in Leicester Square. Looking at Shakespeare.�

How was it nobody else had seen him? Was it just that nobody else was looking for him, or that people didn�t want to see him when they did? He�d been no more than a few miles from the hub of the Wizarding world for three years. Surely someone else must have seen him.

Hermione slogged through the puddles on the sidewalk, her thoughts dark. Soon, she found herself in front of Shakespeare�s leaning stone figure. Susan took an unmoving picture of Draco out of her pocket and began to show it to the street vendors. Nobody remembered seeing him. Of course, the picture was old, and Hermione hadn�t seen Draco once make that face since she�d found him: the arrogant sneer that curled his lip and narrowed his eyes in casual condescension.

�Come on, Susan,� Hermione begged as she shivered in the rain. �It�s a wild goose chase. Let it go.�

Susan leveled her with a confused look. �What is with you?� she asked. �You know we have to investigate this fully.�

However, for all her extensive questioning, Susan could not find one person that recognized Draco.

�Saw a kid who looked like him,� said a man who stood behind his ice cream cart and looked miserable in the rain.

Hermione swallowed and resigned herself to the fact that Draco�s (and her own) goose was cooked.

Then the man continued. �Face was different though. Hair, too. Some beggar was harassing him, and the kid took off. Can�t say I blame him.�

Susan�s face fell. �You�re sure it wasn�t the same person?�

The ice cream man studied his face in the picture. �It�s close. But not the same, I�m positive.�

Back in the Ministry, Hermione dried her hair, satisfied that Draco was safe at least for the time being. Susan sighed and shot a look of longing at Dung�s latest report before she took it to the archive to file it away in his ever increasing folder.

***

Hermione didn�t bother going through the front door. She went straight down the back alley next to the strip club and pressed the buzzer. She waited a long moment until a small, tinny voice crackled through the intercom. �Help you?�

�Jane Granger to see Damien King.�

There was a long moment, and then the door swung open. A security guard raked his eyes over her and waved her by. Another guard met her in the corridor and walked her to Draco�s dressing room. He opened the door without knocking. Hermione blinked in surprise at the empty room.

�He�s performing at the moment. He�ll be back soon.�

Oh, that made sense. Hermione thanked the man and waited alone. It wasn�t the first time she�d wandered Draco�s dressing room while he was on stage, and she knew there was nothing to find. So she tucked herself into the corner of his overstuffed couch and waited for him to come through the door.

He appeared soon after, nearly naked and rather sweaty. He pulled up short at the door when he realized he was not alone, and then he smiled widely.

�Are you ever a sight for sore eyes,� he murmured after he greeted her with a lingering kiss. When he pulled back, his gaze roved her face and he sighed in relief. Dark, puffy circles shadowed his eyes and made him look tired.

Hermione reached out and pushed a damp strand of his pale hair off his forehead. His eyes fluttered shut and he made a sound of contentment. She ran her hand down his cheek, which was warm from being on stage under the lights.

�It�s good to see you too,� she told him.

And it was true. Her anxiety over his sighting had kept her distracted and distant for the remainder of her work day. Dealing with Dung had taken longer than she�d anticipated, and by the time she finally finished having him released from his cell and returned to wreak havoc on the general public once more, it was well past the end of her normal work day.

She only stopped home long enough to eat a sandwich and change clothes, and then she headed straight for the strip club.

�I missed you.� Draco�s eyes opened, clear and grey. He covered her hand on his cheek and brought it to his lips. �You�re late.�

�I know, I�m sorry. I got held up at work. I wanted to be here.�

�I almost called you this morning,� Draco said. �Well, the police, anyway.�

�Why�s that?�

�Some beggar chased me out of Leicester Square. Kept screaming at me.�

�Sounds scary.� Hermione knew what had happened, knew what was coming, and knew it was only a matter of time. She decided she would enjoy him while it lasted. She ran her hands through his sweaty blond locks and closed her eyes to soak up the feeling of his presence.

�Yeah. Said he knew me, and that I was dead.�

Hermione�s eyes snapped open. �That�s terrible!�

Draco nodded, and suddenly, for the first time since she�d rediscovered him, his face slid into an impassive mask. It terrified her.

�What?�

He scooted closer to her on the couch and wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her back until she was pressed against his chest. For a long moment, he kept his face buried in her hair. Then his lips moved against her neck, and faintly, he asked, �What if everyone thinks I�m dead? Maybe that�s why nobody ever came looking for me.�

�It was just a beggar, love. He was probably crazy.�

Draco nodded, and she could feel his heartbeat against her back as it sped up. �That explains what he kept saying,� Draco said casually, though it sounded very forced.

�What did he keep saying?�

Draco shifted away and Hermione spun herself onto his lap. He looked uncomfortable. �What did he keep saying?� Hermione repeated as she touched his cheek. His eyes grew troubled.

�Draco Malfoy,� Draco blurted. �He kept screaming it. �Draco Malfoy! I know you! But you�re dead!��

Author's Notes: When I finished writing this chapter, the story finally surpassed the 100,000 word mark. It's such an accomplishment for me, as this is now the longest thing I've ever written.

As you can see, things are beginning to unravel (or come together - depending on your theories).

Thanks for your patience with me in posting this. I was unexpectedly sucked into the world of Edward Cullen and all his "Twilight" friends. But I'm back now, and very anxious to finish this story.

Leave me a review or stop by my yahoo group. The poll for who you believe abandoned Draco is still open.

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A Pound of Flesh