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The Dare	By : Tassanaburrfoot Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 82898 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. Don't own any of the characters. Am not making a profit.

Chapter List
- 26
- 27
- 28
Azkaban was a terrible place, and it wasn’t just the guards that kept the mood at an all-time low. Aside from the thin, cotton prison garb the prisoners were forced to wearing, the cells lacked all colour or style. The bed was simple with a mattress that offered very little support or comfort. The sheets were worn and covered by a thread-bare blanket that did very little to shield the prisoner from the cold. Meals were just barely enough and only provided the prisoners with sustenance so they wouldn’t die of hunger. And sitting in the far corner of the cell, there was a chamber pot with a roll of toilet paper. The only good thing about the chamber pot was that it was charmed to vanish any contents that fell into it. So, the prisoner did not have to endure smelling their own, rotting feces until someone garnered the desire to clean the pots.

And let’s not forget the guards themselves. A prisoner was forced to relive the worst moments of their lives. Every day. All day. As Lucius sat on his bed, he understood why a person, any person, would go mad. He was struggling as it was, reliving the moment when he learned of his father’s death, never mind the countless other horrors he’d endured throughout his nearly forty-four years. At the moment in his mind’s eye, he watched as the man gasped in both fear and pain and gave his final breath. The look of horror on his features had meant little to Lucius at the time, but now he wondered if the man was seeing his fate for all the unpleasant dealings he had done in the past. Would that be Lucius’s fate as well?

He could feel the tears welling in his eyes and he discovered that he just couldn’t shake them. Not that it really mattered. He was alone in this cramped cell with no one but his memories and a couple of Azkaban’s strongest Dementors to keep him company. It was the first time in his terrible life that he felt no shame in letting them fall.

That wasn’t true, he thought, as he remembered holding his first child in his arms. She had been so tiny, so precious. She was gone before she had even made it out of her mother’s womb. The pain of that moment stabbed at his heart and he mourned the loss all over again.

All he wanted was to sleep, but then white hot pain shot up his left arm and he screamed. This was the price for his servitude to the Dark Lord. He had thought it would be a good thing. The ideals the Dark Lord preached sounded tempting indeed and Lucius just knew the man would win. All he wanted was a good life for his wife and newborn son. He wanted assurance that there would be nothing for him to worry about or fear. That assurance came with a steep price. Not only did he have to deal with the pain of being branded by a curse that would forever link him with the ideology that the Dark Lord preached, but he had to make blood sacrifices, too.

He remembered the face of the only person he had ever truly harmed. She was so sweet, so pretty. Her big, brown eyes were as soft as a doe’s and her skin was like liquid caramel. He remembered the trap he had led her into, his words of seduction, touching her, kissing her… raping her. Lucius sucked in a breath in horror as he watched himself force the girl onto the ground, binding her with ropes that had come out of his wand. What fear she probably felt! Being a Muggle, she did not know the first thing about magic. All she had known at that point was this beautiful man that had taken an interest in her.

His tears wracked his body as he lay on the bed in a fetal position, his arms over his head. He watched as he stripped her body and beat her with a whip. He remembered that day so well. He had been young and full of arrogance and self-righteous anger. He had felt justified with every crack of the whip. It never dawned on him just how awful it must have been for her. Not until now.

He heard her screams of agony and terror, her cries of mercy, as he had ripped her virginity from her. There wouldn’t be mercy. Not for her. Not in that moment. Not ever. And once he had filled her with his seed, he had flipped her over, forcing himself into her arse as well. He took it all. And, when he was done with that, he had Crucio’d her until he could no longer hear her screams. Only then did he kill her.

Honestly, he hadn’t known it would come to her death, but the Dark Lord had always viewed Death as the ultimate punishment. And she deserved to die, he had said. She had been a Muggle. All Muggles deserved to die. And Lucius had believed him. He couldn’t remember why he believed him. He knew his father had felt the same way. Muggles were fodder. They were useless, beneath wizards and witches. The only good Muggle was a dead Muggle, because there was no doubt, if they had the chance, the Muggles would kill every witch and wizard they could. They had already tried.

But that girl? She had been innocent. At the time, Lucius had felt justified, happy even. Looking back on it, however, he didn’t see some random Muggle. He saw someone else. Someone he knew and was growing to care for: not as a conquest or midnight lover. Sure, he had desired her as such from time to time, but in reality, she was the daughter he never had.

The image of the Muggle girl he had slaughtered changed and, in her place, was Hermione. “No!” he shouted, pulling at his hair and shaking his head as his sobs echoed through the cell. “No! Stop!”

But they didn’t stop. No matter how much he had begged, they never stopped, and he didn’t sleep. He screamed until his voice was hoarse, and then he screamed some more.

(II)(II)

Draco flipped the newspaper over and scanned the back of it. Of all the days, his father had to go to trial on his bloody birthday. He sneered at the picture of Lucius Malfoy dressed in prison rags. What rotten luck! He tried thinking of a way he could use it to his advantage. Maybe with this trial, Hermione would be persuaded to marry him sooner, but she had shot that idea down.

“We need to concentrate on getting your father out, not on getting married,” she had told him.

Sure, what she said made sense, but that did little to put him in a better mood. And they couldn’t have a heart and set the trial for the morning so Lucius was out by lunch. No. It was set for six in the evening, so any plans Draco had wanted to make for his birthday were out the window.

Even worse, he was out of cigarettes. So, there he sat in their bedroom by the fire. In one hand, he had the Prophet, that blasted tabloid that only gossiped about the daily affairs of Wizarding kind and gave no real news. In the other hand was his bottle of firewhiskey. He had thought of pouring himself a glass, but had abandoned that idea in favour of just drinking it straight out of the bottle.

He gulped down another mouthful as he read the Quidditch scores and glanced at a photo of his favourite team. He missed flying and was actually feeling a bit excited about the Slytherin team for next year. As his eyes travelled down the paper, he spotted the Derby and stifled a groan. He really needed to get back into what was going on with the ponies. The Malfoys had at least three or four of their own pegasi in the leagues and Draco knew two more were currently undergoing training for next year.

“Anything about your father’s trial?” Hermione asked as she walked into the room carrying a tray of sweet meats.

“It’s at 6,” he mumbled, his eyes trailing the numbers for the last Quidditch match. It had been a tight game.

Huffing, Hermione sat down next to him and placed a hand on his arm. “Draco,” she chided. “The trial is less than a week away. The investigations are complete, from what I know, and there’s a chance your father could be facing a pretty devastating sentence, if he’s convicted.”

He glared at her through bleary eyes. Maybe he should stop drinking, but it didn’t really matter at this point. “Let him rot there, for all I care,” he said. “Why does it matter so much anyway? Afraid the Wizengamot’s gonna take away your latest man-toy?”

The Muggle born sucked in her shock through her teeth. “How dare you!” she hissed. “He is your father! You of all people should worry…”

He gave her a bored look. “Come off it, Granger,” he drawled. “You don’t think I have a team of people trying to find evidence to get him out of there? Don’t get your knickers in such a twist. Daddy Malfoy will be out by the end of that night and we’ll even play patty-cake on the steps of Malfoy Manor, if you like.”

She glared at him. “You’re acting childish,” she told him.

“Yeah? Well, that happens when they set his trial on my bloody birthday. Honestly, what the hell?” he demanded, thrusting the paper at her. “He spends all this time in lock-up and they couldn’t have him go to trial before or after my birthday. No, they have to do it on my birthday. And to hell with anyone who may have plans.”

She blinked. “Is that what this tantrum is about?” she asked. “Because they are doing his trial on your birthday?” She stared at him in amazement. “Are you really that self-centred?”

He rolled his eyes. “What do you think?” he retorted as he stood.

“I think you need to pull your head out of your arse and start thinking about what’s more important,” she commented as she folded her arms. “Your mother was planning a nice little get together the weekend after your birthday, on that Saturday. If your father is released, he’ll actually be able to join us in celebrating.”

“We don’t even know if he will be acquitted,” he stated as he poured a glass of firewhiskey and started to hand it to her, but changed his mind at the last minute and kept it for himself.

“Well, that’s a great positive attitude,” she snarked as pulled out a thick, leather-bound book. She shoved it into his chest.

He groaned, holding the book. “What the hell, Granger?” he growled. Curious, he glanced at the book. “What’s this?”

“Your mother let me into the Malfoy library,” she explained. “It’s a book about the old bylaws and customs of the Pureblood families of old.” She wrinkled her nose as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s positively deplorable what some of these people did back then and I don’t excuse your father of what he’s done, if he’s done it. However, based on what I’ve read, I can understand why he would think it appropriate and right. Especially if he was raised to believe this drivel.”

His brow furrowed. “Are you hoping to get him cleared?” he asked.

“If he’s innocent?” she replied. She bit her bottom lip. “Naturally. But if he isn’t… If Lucius did sleep with her, then, no. Even more so if he raped her. I don’t care what she’s done, no one deserves to be raped, especially not one so young.”

“A few months ago, you accused me of rape,” he pointed out. “If that’s the case, perhaps I should be in prison as well, wouldn’t you agree?”

She blinked. “I…” hesitating, she turned from him to stare at the window. “This is different,” she said. “You and I were dating at the time and we’re both of the age of consent. Aside from that, I’ve forgiven you. I understand that at the time, you were confused and simply responding to the moment. Of course, you didn’t respond correctly, but all the same, you’ve never hurt me. Nor do you intend to hurt me.” She looked at him. “We’ll be married soon and, I don’t want to live my life with my husband behind bars.”

He nodded and, approaching her, he kissed her forehead. It was still morning and he had way too much to do to get pissed. Setting the bottle onto the wet bar, he turned to her. Giving her a chaste kiss on the lips, he rested his forehead against hers. “I have some business I need to take care of in London,” he told her. “I’d like it if you stayed with my mother until I returned.”

She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment before looking up at him. “Please be safe,” she muttered. “That person is still out there and you know they are after you.”

He held her in his arms, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll be alright,” he promised her. “I’ll have two Aurors with me and I’m not going anywhere outlandish. Besides, we have things we have to do here to get prepared for Father’s trial. Not to mention the journey to your castle.”

“Remus is making those preparations,” she told him, gazing into his silver eyes.

He smirked. “And if you expect me to believe you aren’t, then you’re lying.”

She gave him a soft smile. “When will you be back?” she asked.

“I’ll be here in time for supper,” he promised. “Just… I know it can be tempting, but try not to roam these halls alone? I have a feeling the Manor is beginning to accept you, but I cannot be certain and I would hate it if things went awry while I was away.”

She bit her bottom lip, but agreed. They were quiet as he led her to where his mother was sitting in the atrium. Giving the Muggle born witch a soft kiss on the lips, Draco bid his mother good-bye and left.

(III)(III)

He leaned against the side of a brick building as he watched Theodore walk out of the store with his little lunatic. Taking a last drag of his cigarette, Draco snuffed the bit of tobacco out and pushed himself off of the building. With his hands in his pockets, he approached the couple. “Theo,” he greeted loudly.

The tall, lanky boy stopped and turned to look at him. Loony gave him a bit of a serene smile. “Oi!” the raven haired boy shouted. “What are you doing out here, Malfoy?” he asked.

“Are you going to visit your father today?” the wispy girl questioned, her musical voice as light as a feather.

Draco stared at the girl. “You’re a noisy little bird, aren’t you?” he sneered, but if he had insulted her, she seemed unfazed by it.

“Watch it, Drake,” Theodore warned, his eyes narrowing.

The blond boy scoffed. “We have less than a week before the trial,” he explained. “I figured I would go to him and see if his story’s changed. Have either of you found anything new?”

“Not recently,” Theodore replied. His brow furrowed. “How is it that you’re going to see your old man? I wasn’t aware we were allowed such liberties.”

“It’s a secured meeting, but I’ll see him all the same,” Draco drawled as he took out another cigarette and lit it. “Money can buy you a lot of things if you know which hands are starving for it.”

Theodore nodded as he glanced at his betrothed. “Don’t I know it,” he commented. “We just finished seeing her father. My pockets feel a bit lighter than I like, but he’s agreed to our marriage. This time next year, you’ll be meeting the new Mrs. Nott.”

The girl offered a sweet smile as she gazed lovingly at Theodore. “Hopefully He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will be defeated by then,” she chimed.

“Don’t worry. He will be,” Draco stated, leaving no room for argument.

(IV)(IV)

Draco had bid the couple a farewell and continued on to the Ministry. Once there, he had to sign a stack of papers that almost made him sympathize with Snape. Almost. But his sympathies stopped short at the idea that Snape had chosen to work as a teacher, meaning that he did this sort of stuff willingly on a near daily basis.

They checked his wand for any recent spells that could be harmful, but he was still a student at Hogwarts and not quite seventeen yet, so, naturally, he hadn’t done any spells since he left school. The only “harmful” spells he had were those he had performed in Hogwarts.

“Do you know the Patronus Charm?” the Auror was asking as he handed Draco back his wand.

The blond frowned. “Flitwick never covered that,” he said as he thought about it. “But I’ve heard of it.”

“Do you know how to perform it?” the Auror questioned.

Draco shook his head. “If I did I wouldn’t say things like ‘Flitwick never covered it’ or ‘I’ve only ever bloody heard of it,’” he remarked.

“There’s no need for that, Mr. Malfoy,” the Auror chided. “I’ll be sending you with Auror Tonks.”

The Auror in question stepped forward and Draco looked at her. His eyes widened. She was young for an Auror, he thought. She had bubblegum pink hair and a sassy stance. She gave Draco a smirk as she greeted, “Wotcher, cousin! And here I thought your old man had taught you some manners! Or at least your mum would’ve.”

The blond frowned. “Cousin?” he questioned.

“Oh, aye,” she said as she led him to the Apparating point. “Course you probably don’t recognize me, do ya? Our mums are sisters, don’t ya know? Mum’s Andromeda Black Tonks, older sister of your mum. She never told ya about us?”

“That cousin,” he mumbled. “The half-blood.”

She pointed an accusing finger at him. “Don’cha be making such noise, ya hear? Word on the street is you’re engaged to a Muggle born. So, don’t ye be giving me any of that flap, ya ruddy blood-traitor,” she scolded. “Just cause you got money, don’t make ya any less of a blood-traitor than me mum.”

That threw Draco for a loop he hadn’t expected. Was he a blood-traitor? He still believed that wizards were higher on the evolutionary train than Muggles could ever be, regardless of who he was marrying. He shook his head and scoffed. “Hermione Granger happens to be the heiress of Merlin, or did that not make it to the streets yet?” he commented arrogantly as he straightened his back and held his head up.

The girl leaned in close to him and he watched in fascination as her hair changed into blonde right before his eyes. “She’s still a Muggle born,” she whispered to him, giving him a slight jab with her elbow before dancing away from him and laughing merrily. Her hair changed back to the bubblegum pink as she did so. And then she ran into the doorframe.

He made no response to that, still thinking over her words as he shook his head. They managed to make it to the Apparating point and Draco silently thanked the gods that Tonks – as she liked to be called – hadn’t broken anything. “Hang on, cousin,” she said to him as she grabbed his arm. With a flick of her wand, they were gone.

(V)(V)

“I’d teach ya how to cast the Patronus, but I don’t think we’ve got time for that,” she told him once their feet touched the ground. “Best you stay close to me, cousin.”

Draco shook her off as she cast her little charm. He watched in amazement as the transparent jack rabbit bounded around them. “So, what is your actual name?” he asked conversationally as they walked up to the fortress.

She snorted. “Fat chance I’ll tell you,” she retorted. “I hate my first name. Never know why me mum insisted on it. I don’t have any problem with you, or anyone else, calling me Tonks. Sounds a lot better than the alternative.”

He just stared at her. He followed her up the rocky path. Even with her pet rabbit, he could feel the chill in the air and knew that, if given the chance, the Dementors would swoop down onto them. When they came to the doors of the fortress, Tonks had ordered one of the Dementors to fetch Lucius while she led Draco into a stone room. There wasn’t anything in the room aside from a table and two chairs.

“Azkaban doesn’t usually get visitors,” she told him. “So the accommodations aren’t that great. We also shouldn’t linger here for too long, cousin. The guards hate having people here who prevent them from feeding.”

Draco’s face contorted in disgust as they waited for Lucius to enter. Tonks frowned at the two chairs. Waving her wand, she duplicated one of them and, pulling it near the door, she sat on it was a Dementor threw Lucius into the room. The man was bound at the ankles and wrists, preventing him from moving too much.

Despite having been in Azkaban for months now, Lucius stumbled for a moment before grasping onto one of the chairs and pulling himself to sit on it. He kept his head up, dignified as he took in the two humans. “Nymphadora,” he greeted, his voice broken by lack of use.

Tonks’s hair turned bright red as she glared at the man. “Don’t call me ‘Nymphadora,” she warned. “My name is Tonks.”

The man sniffed as he lifted his eyes towards the other wizard in the room. “Son,” he rasped.

Draco glanced at the witch. “Can he have a glass of water?” he asked.

Shrugging, she pointed her wand at a rock and transfigured it into a cup which she proceeded to fill with water. Standing up, she retrieved the cup and handed it to Lucius. “Sorry it’s not much,” she said. “Certainly not fine china like I’m sure your used to, but it’s the best I can do given the circumstances.”

Draco had a feeling she wasn’t sorry at all, but he said nothing as Lucius greedily drank from the cup. Once he had drunk about half of the cup, Lucius placed it on the table and straightened his throat. “Thank you, Nymphadora,” he said, giving her a nod.

In irritation, she knocked the cup onto the floor and pressed her wand against his throat. “Call me that again and I will turn your hair into rabbit shaped house slippers,” she threatened.

He gave her a distasteful look. “Well, you’re about as pleasant as your mother,” he commented, sulkily. He turned back to his son. “I am pleased to see you, my dear boy. How is your mother?”

The young man lifted an eyebrow as he moved to sit in the remaining chair. “She’s be doing a lot better if you weren’t locked away in prison,” he stated. “I knew it was a mistake to continue our involvement with the Greengrasses. I even told you as much.”

“Eugene is an old friend of mine,” Lucius said, looking at his son. “He was worried about his daughter and I didn’t see any harm in trying to help him. I mean, I knew she really wanted to marry you, Son, but I also knew that you weren’t interested. So, I figured if I could find her an alternative…”

“Yeah? We see how well that worked out for you,” Draco spat. “She’s even further from having a husband than what she was before, and there’s a chance she may be consorting with creatures far worse than you could ever encourage her to meet.”

Lucius frowned. “What sort of creatures?” he asked.

Draco leaned in close to his father and whispered, “Werewolves.” At his father and Tonks’s looks of alarm, the young man clarified, “I spied her going into the Dark Forest with a boy her year. Soon after, I heard wolves howling. I could be just overthinking things, of course. I wasn’t able to get close enough to them.”

“Best not to jump to conclusions until you’ve all the facts,” Lucius advised. “Have you spoken to Miss Granger of this?”

The young man shook his head. “But I intend to,” he stated. “Although, that does bring me to a question I did have for you,” he added. His face grew darker as he thought over his words. In hushed tones, he told his father of what he had witnessed that night at the Easter banquet and what Hermione had said about the painting. “I thought you and I have already been through this,” he hissed angrily. “No one is to touch her aside from me, not in that way.”

Lucius raised a single brow. “Do not let these chains or your current control over the estate fool you, boy. I am still your father and I will not be spoken to in that tone of voice,” he stated calmly, his eyes flashing in anger.

“I don’t give a damn who you are,” Draco spat. “She’s my wife, goddamnit! And I swear to every deity known to man that if you ever touch her again in such a sexual manner, I will cut you off from the vaults and force you into a retirement home. You’ll be playing chess with the other old wizards and the only women you’ll have to gawk at are those with saggy tits and flabby arms,” he threatened.

The man made a face of disgust as he leaned back in his chair. “Is this what you came here for, Son? To threaten me?”

“I wanted to warn you,” the younger Malfoy said. “I won’t tolerate another man attempting to coax an affair out of my wife. I don’t care who you are. Do it again, and my word will become the truth. This is my oath. She is my wife, and that’s final.”

The two glared at one another as Tonks sat there in shock. “Well, has the entire Malfoy family gone traitor on us? Oh, this is quite possibly the best news I’ve had since the day I was enlisted to being an Auror!” she preened as she clapped her hands. Her hair turned blonde again.

Lucius gave her a sour look and then something dawned on old Lucius at that moment and the corners of his lips lifted up in a devious smirk. He turned his attention back to his son. “You’ve gone through with the binding?” he stated more than questioned.

Draco glared at his father for a moment longer. Then, he gave the man a smug smirk and leaned back in his chair as well. “How did you know it would work?” he asked.

Lucius rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Son, I have been in this world much longer than you have. I’ve seen the way young women’s minds work,” he explained. “Let them believe they are in danger and there isn’t any other alternative and they will do whatever you wish so they can stay safe.”

The younger man chuckled. “Bloody brilliant. I was actually worried for a moment that she would catch on,” he said.

This managed to confuse Tonks as Draco stood up and retrieved the cup. “Mind filling this up for me?” he asked her. “I’m still not allowed to do magic outside of school yet.”

She absently filled the cup with more water as she looked from father to son. “You’ve done a binding with Hermione?” she asked. “Do you have any idea what that means?”

He scoffed as he handed his father the cup and retook his seat. “Of course I do,” he stated quite plainly. “Most old wizarding families know of it, especially those who come from ancient lines. I’m surprised, however, that you were taught about it.”

She frowned. “I may be half, but I do still have the blood of the Blacks running through my veins. My mother made certain my education was as complete as could be, minus all the blood superiority drivel that you’ve no doubt learned,” she said, still looking at the both of them.

“Then you also know that, as a member of the family, what we speak of here does not get repeated to anyone,” Lucius commented as he took a sip of his water.

She narrowed her eyes. “If either of you say anything that I deem dangerous or traitorous to the Ministry, it is my job to report it,” she told him. “Furthermore…”

“It’s blood,” Draco argued. “Neither of us have any interest in betraying the Ministry. We just want to make sure you don’t go telling anyone about what we have planned. I’ve worked too damn hard to earn Hermione’s trust and love to see it blown up in my face because of some blasted Hufflepuff honesty.”

She frowned. “How did you know I was a Hufflepuff?” she asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. “You’re my cousin,” he stated. “Despite my dislike of us being related, I can’t really deny it, can I?”

They were quite for a moment, each person thinking over what all had been said so far. Lucius took another sip of his water before glancing at his son and sighing. “I suppose I’ll have to let up now, won’t I?”

Draco exhaled. “I would be grateful if you did,” he said honestly. “I will admit; I saw red when I noticed the way you had held her on the dancefloor.”

“Mm, yes, well, you did manage to choose a delectable creature, Son,” Lucius purred. “She’s positively tantalizing with the way her body feels pressed against a man, especially when she is speaking. You can literally hear the intelligence pouring out of every syllable and it goes straight to the loins.”

Tonks scrunched her nose. “You’re a disgusting pig,” she commented as she stared at the man. “That girl is half your age and she’s getting married to your son.”

“With luck, we’ll be married by next summer,” Draco stated, leaning back in his chair and smirking lazily.

Lucius nodded in agreement. “Can’t I at least flirt with her from time to time? I do enjoy watching her squirm and seeing the surprise in her eyes.”

Draco thought about it for a moment. “So long as it doesn’t go any further,” he relented. “Although, I may have spoiled it a bit for you when I was trying to convince her to bind with me. I made it a point to tell her to stay away from you.”

“Sound advice,” the man agreed. “She should stay away from me, especially if the things you fear about the Dark Lord is true. If he manages to return, I won’t be able to ignore his call.”

The witch tilted her head. “What’s this? Voldemort is dead,” she said, her brows furrowing in confusion.

Draco ignored her as he shrugged his shoulders. “Unless the horcruxes are destroyed,” Draco pointed out.

“How is that coming along?” Lucius asked.

“Three are destroyed,” the boy counted off. “But there are still four missing. Dumbledore reckons he’s found another one, but is having difficulty getting to it. Potter’s supposed to go with him this summer.”

“Didn’t you tell me that the old coot thought that perhaps your aunt Bellatrix might have had one?”

The boy nodded slowly and snapped his fingers. “I should probably check that out, shouldn’t I?” he surmised.

The patriarch gave him a look and raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes I wonder about that head of yours, boy,” he commented as he reached for the glass of water and took another drink.

“I could help out,” Tonks offered.

“Sure,” Draco agreed. “I might actually need your help, come to think on it. I don’t know if you had ever actually met our late aunt, but the bitch was crazy. There’s no telling what sorts of things are in her vault.” Changing the subject, he looked back at his father. Draco sighed. “Your trial is on my birthday at six at night,” he told him. “I have a team of Aurors investigating everything, including that picture Astoria gave them and others they have found.”

Lucius scoffed. “You know me, Draco,” he drawled. “I would never be so foolish as to allow someone to take a picture of me without my knowledge. Furthermore, I would never have sex with someone in a place where such a thing is possible. That photograph, and any others she may have, are forged.”

“I don’t understand why she would be out to try and ruin us,” Draco commented.

Again, his father gave him a bored look. “Really, Draco? The girl has had a crush on you ever since she could walk and probably before that. No doubt Eugene and his wife filled her head with false promises leading her to believe that the two of you would be married someday,” he gathered.

“But then, if she wanted Draco so badly, why not put up damning evidence against him?” Tonks questioned. “Instead of getting you convicted for a crime you didn’t commit, if you didn’t actually commit it which is what I’m assuming you mean, then why not accuse Draco of something and then offer to lift the charges only if he agrees to marry her?”

“Why do you think I worked so damn hard to get Granger to bind with me?” the younger Malfoy drawled. “I never did anything to her, but if she does decide to go that route, I’m pretty much useless to her anyway. I can’t get her pregnant and I had made an Unbreakable Vow to Granger that I wouldn’t have sex with any other woman.”

Tonks’s eyes widened. “That’s a huge commitment just to keep on girl away from you,”
she commented. “Do you really hate the Greengrasses that much? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Hermione’s definitely worth it, but…”

“But nothing,” the young man interrupted. “I won’t have any other woman besides Granger. She’s mine and I’m hers.” Draco glanced away, looking annoyed. “I will need to figure out how to get Granger from being afraid of you after a while, Father,” he mumbled. “I might have laid it on a bit too thick, but I was getting frustrated over her refusal to concede.”

“For now,” Lucius told him, “let her continue to fear me. So long as the Dark Lord is still out there, she has every reason, too.”

“I told her about those parties,” the boy commented, gazing up. “About what went on during them.”

The patriarch smirked. “Did she seem interested?” he asked looking genuinely interested.

“More like disgusted,” the young man scoffed.

The patriarch looked a bit forlorn and sighed. “Ah well,” he mourned. “I suppose there are always dreams…”

“I think I’m going to start calling you ‘Uncle Pig’,” Tonks commented.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. “No, Nymphadora,” he stated firmly.

“So long as you call me ‘Nymphadora’, you can bet your blond hair that I’m going to call you ‘Uncle Pig’,” she warned.

Draco gave his father a sour look and the man laughed. He pointed at his father. “Don’t ever let her hear you say something like that,” he warned. “If you do, nothing I say will ever clear her mind about you.”

Lucius rolled his eyes, still smiling. “I believe I’ve told you once before, Son,” he said. “I’ve no interest in dirtying my dick.”

“She’s not dirty,” the young Slytherin spat aggressively as Tonks hissed. The boy growled, “She’s Merlin’s heiress.”

Dipping his head in a slight nod, Lucius agreed with that point. “But she is still the daughter of two Muggles, heiress or not.”

Draco sighed as he leaned back in his chair. It was always tedious being around Lucius, but it was also good seeing his father and airing out details. “I will look into the vault and see if I can’t find whatever it is Bellatrix kept. I don’t even know what I’m looking for,” he stated.

Lucius frowned at that and thought it through. “What was it that’s been found so far?” he asked.

“The diary, a ring, and a locket,” Draco ticked off. “Both the ring and locket were family heirlooms from Slytherin himself. And I believe the diary was of the Dark Lord’s personal possessions.”

Lucius nodded as he mentally dissected the information. Trouble was, he didn’t really know what all the Dark Lord valued, but he knew that it would be things of value that he would have used. He sighed. “Is there anything else we know?” he questioned. “Anything at all Dumbledore might have mentioned about the Dark Lord? The smallest detail could give us a hint into what he might have valued.”

Draco shrugged. “I honestly don’t think he really knows,” he answered.

(VI)(VI)

They hadn’t stayed much longer, as both had things to do and Tonks’s Patronus was beginning to falter. When they had returned to the Ministry, Draco had looked at the woman, studying her.

“Care to join me for a cup of tea?” he asked her.

She stared at him, taken aback by his offer. “You’re really inviting me or is this some Slytherin trick?” she inquired suspiciously.

He gave her a soft, charming smile. “If getting to know my cousin is a trick, then it’s an odd one, wouldn’t you agree?”

Her suspicion remained, but she did take him up on it. They took a walk to the Leaky Cauldron, but they didn’t get tea. Instead, they each cradled steaming mugs of butterbeer. Draco pulled out a flask and added what seemed like some firewhiskey in his mug. Grinning, he offered the flask to her. “To take the edge off,” he responded to her dubious look.

Tonks stared at him for a moment, but relented and took the flask from him, pouring a small measure into her mug. “I can’t drink too much,” she told him. “I still have Auror work to do.”

He nodded as he lifted his mug to his lips. He didn’t take a sip, however. Instead, he watched as she drank deeply from her own mug. His eyes flashed as he set his mug down. “I wanted to talk to you about what we discussed at the prison,” he commented.

Wiping her mouth from the foam, she looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“The binding, Lucius’s intentions,” he ticked off. “If Hermione learns of these things, it could be detrimental to our future together.”

She shrugged. “Oh, I doubt she’ll care one way or another,” she stated. “Besides, despite those remarks he made, I don’t think your father is going to attempt to do anything to her. She has a right to know.”

Draco glanced down at his mug. “She’s not a very good Occlumens,” he said, looking back up at her. There was a seductive gleam in his eyes. “And she has a habit of wearing her heart on her sleeve. I’m not saying that she can’t know, however, with the Dark Lord still out there and she and I aren’t even married yet… All I ask is to wait. Let us be wed and let the Dark Lord be destroyed. Then we can tell her.”

“Hmmm,” she replied, taking another sip of her laced butterbeer. “Yeah,” she agreed, smacking her lips. “After you get married….” Her head drooped and rested on the table.

Glancing around, Draco stood up. Tossing a few Galleons on the table, he walked around it and picked her up. At the bartender Tom’s look of concern, the blond gave a small smirk, “Lightweight this one. I’m going to take her home, make sure she gets there safe.”

When Tonks turned up for work the next morning, no one questioned her about where she had been. When she had questioned why no one was questioning her, after all she had meant to return to work, the boss simply shrugged. “Your cousin said you had fallen ill,” the man told her. “Said the Dementors had gotten to you.”

She nodded slowly and tried to remember. Problem was, while she recalled meeting Draco and bringing him to Azkaban, she had a hard time remembering beyond that. A sudden fear settled in her stomach and she checked the prison records, but Lucius was still there, so… Why couldn’t she remember?

(VII)(VII)

Draco straightened his outer robe as he left the Ministry. In all honesty, he hadn’t meant to give her that much. He figured a drop or two would be sufficient enough to allow a few memories to float away from the forefront of her mind. He smirked. There was nothing for it and it wasn’t like the potion would hurt her.

He returned home to find his mother and bride-to-be in the sitting room. Both ladies were drinking cups of tea, however, they weren’t talking. Hermione was reading that book Narcissa had given her while the latter read a book about gardening.

“Oh, Draco, darling,” his mother greeted. “I wanted to ask you: How do you feel about Easter lilies? I thought they would be a beautiful addition to our garden. They give off such a wonderful fragrance, too.”

He bent down and kissed his mother on the cheek. “Whatever you wish,” he told her, much the same way his father would have answered her. He walked over to Hermione and glanced down at her. “Everything alright, princess?”

She frowned as she gazed up at him. She tilted her head a bit to accept his chaste kiss before looking back at the text she was reading. “Some of these practices are truly deplorable,” she commented. “Not just in what is considered acceptable for a second born daughter, though that’s just absolutely horrid. Did you know that if a wizard were to impregnate her whilst she was being toyed with that he could refuse knowledge that the child is his and she would be sentenced to a life as a spinster? And her father doesn’t have to give her so much as a Knut.” She ran a finger over the text. “In fact, according to this, if she chooses to keep the child, she must vacate the family home immediately and find her own way.” She looked up at him with empathy filled eyes.

He shrugged. “Back then, most girls were betrothed by Astoria’s age,” he told her. “Her father was so wrapped up in trying to convince my father to concede to a union that he didn’t bother to even consider anyone else.” He sat on the chair next to hers and took her hand. Rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb, he glanced from one woman to the other. “I just finished seeing Father, by the way. He told me to tell you both that he misses you and he cannot wait to return home.”

Narcissa clutched at her chest. “How is he?” she asked, fearful of the answer.

Draco sighed. “He’s… Despite his situation, Father manages to keep his pride about him, which is a good thing, I believe. He did look rather worn, however. Like he hadn’t slept for a while. And he’s losing weight, though I don’t know if that’s from lack of food or simply from not eating. The Aurors assured me that he is being fed, so I’m guessing he’s just not eating.”

“Oh, there’s no telling,” the older witch commented as she looked away. “No doubt he’s simply not eating. Your father has a refined palate and I’m sure the guards don’t cater to his needs properly.”

“Well, in all fairness, they don’t really have to,” Hermione pointed out. “He’s a prisoner, not a guest.”

Narcissa sighed. “I can’t wait until he gets out of that place. June 5^th cannot come fast enough.” Draco balked at that and his mother shook her head. “Don’t start, Draco,” she reprimanded. “You’ll still receive your party and gifts, however, there isn’t anything wrong with wanting your father to be there to celebrate with us. Even if he hadn’t been incarcerated, your party would have still been on Saturday.”

“Yes, but we’d still have a dinner on the night of my birthday at least,” he complained. “I won’t even get that courtesy.”

“Stop acting like a spoiled child,” his mother scolded. “You are too old for that sort of behaviour.”

He glowered for a moment before Hermione started laughing. Surprised, both Purebloods looked at her as though she had grown a second head.

She waved a hand as she stymied her laughter. “My apologies,” she said, still laughing. “Watching Draco pout just cracks me up every time.”

He set his jaw. “Seeing my displeasure is funny?” he growled. “Bet you won’t find it funny when I start destroying things, will you?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to throw a tantrum just because your father’s trial is on your birthday,” she stated. “It isn’t even going to be that long as I’m sure many of the older wizards still abide by these arcane laws that I’ve been reading. According to this, even if he did have sex with Astoria, he’s done nothing wrong, as despicable as that sounds. As advanced as the Wizarding World is in some respects, in others, it just makes me sick. This book isn’t even that old, which tells me that it’s probably still in print.”

Draco frowned. “I do know that the laws haven’t changed much in the past century or so, however, not all Wizarding families follow the doctrines listed in there. Father certainly doesn’t…”

Hermione shot him a look and slammed the book closed. “Have you figured out how Astoria managed to fake that photograph? What about the other photos she claims to have access to? If it is proven that your father did, in fact, have sex with her, then you better damn well hope that he follows these doctrines, regardless of how despicable or ancient they are, because that could possibly be his only saving grace. If you wish to continue arguing with me about this, I can stop and let you figure it all out on your own. Personally, I hope that if he did it that he does get convicted with the maximum sentence because, to me, that would be what he deserves,” she snarled, her words growing faster as she spoke.

“And if he didn’t?” Draco challenged, glaring at her.

“Then why are you being such a prat?” she asked, throwing a hand at him. “If he didn’t do it, then he’ll get off, won’t he?”

“But there’s no telling how long this trial is going to last. He could get off on the same day, or the prosecutors may try to prolong it,” he told her.

“They can’t,” she argued.

“If they think they can, they will,” he stated. “The Ministry loves to hang a man for perceived crimes, it helps make them look good if they can prove he did it. And if he’s as rich and well known as my father, well…”

She shook her head. “And if they wrongfully convict him, he turns out to be a martyr and proof of how poorly the judicial system is,” she pointed out. “Such a thing has the potential to backfire.”

“Well, let’s just hope my husband doesn’t get convicted,” Narcissa commented, her head raised proudly. “But then, he is innocent. That little home-wrecking harlot is nothing more than a pathetic little girl starving for attention.”

Hermione looked worriedly at the older witch. “Pathetic little girl or not, she has still managed to put your husband behind bars,” she remarked. “We can only hope he isn’t as guilty as she claims he is.”

“He’s not, Miss Granger,” the Malfoy matron stated, brooking no room for argument. “And you’ll see at the trial that he isn’t.”
Author's Note: Yeah, I know I had said this chapter would have the trial in it, but there was one scene that I wanted to get out before the trial and that scene was a lot longer than I had expected. (Oops.) On a good note, I've already begun working on 28 and it does have the trial in it. :)

colao: Thank you. Your words mean a lot to me. Having written so many controversal stories, I'm beginning to accept the idea that some people may not like them and may feel the need to express their dislikes rather aggressively. Like you, though, I find it difficult to understand why they think they can just make demands and degrade another person's art. But I guess everyone is a critic, right? I believe even Rowling had been told that her story would amount to nothing. And then there's Picasso, Einstein, and so many other greats.
Sheedy: Oh, it will all come to a head I promise. It's coming. :)
Peaches1811: I've thought about it. (Bringing in Greyback, that is.) And good catch on the spoken words! I think you were the only person who caught that. Damn.
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The Dare