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The Best Of...	By : T-W-O Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 13807 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I own nothing of HP nor do I profit in any way from these missives. I almost own the laptop I'm writing this fanfic on, tho'.

Chapter List
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“Why are you doing this?”

“Because you deserve the best defense and your circumstances make that… difficult. Now let’s go through your testimony one more time.”

“I don’t WANT to go through my testimony ‘one more time’! I want to get it over with.”

The scraping chair legs on the old-world oak floor prompted Draco to turn around and focus his anger on the person least deserving of its edge.

“Why do you think you’re above making mistakes, hmmm? Why do you think your money —” and Draco snorted at this. The Malfoy fortune remained inaccessible by any legal means.

“Why do you think your money insulates you from being human and imperfect? It’s not your situation or your choices that made this a problem — it’s your bloody arrogance!”

His lanky frame leaning against the wall in the Manor business study, Draco smirked for the first time in days. He’d made her swear.

“Why, Granger! I didn’t know you cared. I do expect the best of everything.”

“I do care and don’t you dare make light of it! Now sit your pale arse down and let’s work through this — NOW, Malfoy.”

Chastened underneath the smug expression, Draco regained his seat next to her. Hermione’d been hammering at him for days.

“Arthur Weasley petitioned to get you a closed hearing. That means only judges and witnesses, which will work in your favor.”

“Weaslbee’s father? That befuddled muggle lover?”

“Watch your mouth, Malfoy, or I’ll Imperius you and make you celibate.”

Her lack of humor frightened him as much as her chosen threat. Healthy sexual appetites had been bred into the Malfoy and Black families for centuries.

“And for your information, Arthur Weasley is one of the brightest wizards in England. Who do you think taught Fred and George about magical gadgets? Mr. Weasley knows that court; he thinks your chances for mercy are better with just a few participants and some very credible witnesses in your behalf.

“There’s your strategy gone to Hell, Granger. I don’t HAVE any credible witnesses.”

“Actually, Draco, you have three — Ron, Harry and me. We’ve all testified by pensieve and we’ve all agreed to be cross-examined under Veritaserum.”

“She’s got you there, compagno” floated from a salon couch near the fireplace. A relaxed Blaise Zabini rose and made his way over to the trolley holding the wine and goblets. Free of any taint from the Death Eater “witchhunt”, the Zabini fortune — nothing like the Malfoys but still sizable — funded Draco’s best chance of avoiding Azkaban.

Draco’s mouth hung open in unspoken question — Why???.

“Because you’re not perfect, Malfoy. Everyone deserves a second chance — especially if they haven’t had a first one. Blaise?”

“Si, cara mia?”

Draco decided almost immediately that the intimate Italian moniker was inappropriate coming from Blaise.

“Drill him on the answers, please. I’ve made notes on what not to say as well, as I’m sure —”

Hermione shot a look of pure exasperation at Draco. Blaise hurt himself with laughter:

“— Mr. Malfoy’s unused to circumspection and careful speech.”

Rising from her seat at the table, Hermione raised her arms over her head to restore circulation to her back. In the backlight filtering through the sheer fabric of her blouse, Draco noted the green bra and wondered why he never noticed Granger in anything like that before. Her position drew attention to her breasts, more pronounced as she arched backwards smoothly. Not for the first time Draco thanked Merlin for sex and everything that led up to it; the view became the best part of Granger’s visit.

“I’ll be back tomorrow. Floo me if anything is unclear.”

“Where will you be?” Draco asked.

“My parents’ place. I’ve had an unlisted floo connection installed.” she replied, distracted by her own movements to pack her parchments and quills alongside her portable computer.

“Don’t waste time trying to figure things out, just floo me. I’ll be packing for school.”

And with a wave she tossed the powder into the fireplace and stepped in. Seconds later she was gone. Draco stared at her last location in the room.

“Drake? You’re the best in Slytherin and second only to Granger. Don’t be stupid. This might be your last chance.”

Both understood the topic.

“You’re right, mate. And no more Italian pet names with her. Prep me, Z — we need to be on that train to Hogwarts in three weeks.”

The Lord of the Manor massaged his stiff legs before leaving the chair hidden by a privacy screen, asking himself the same question about the Golden Trio’s motives: “Why, indeed, does she care?”

“You are sure of this?”

“I am not an idiot. She spent hours preparing him — quite well, I might add.”

“How did you go undetected?”

Lucius Malfoy bent himself in different directions, still seeking to release muscles strained from idleness in a decorative, but uncomfortable, chair concealed behind a line of potted plants.

“I kept my arse stock still in Auntie Malificent’s torturous chair. My hindquarters remain insensitive to touch.”

“Just what is your concern, Lucius?”

Narcissa’d approached in her sleeping gown — two thin straps suspending a fabric so thin it hid nothing from his perusal — and began their favorite game by unbuttoning his fly by hand and releasing his stiffening member. Malfoy men needed sex several times a week under normal circumstances; the last weeks approached nothing like normal. Assignations three times a day kept him barely civil and composed in public.

“Why? Why did she testify that you left the battle scene without engaging? Why help Drac — Unnhhhh… Cissy…”

“Take the edge off, did we?” she teased. The pollen smell of his seed, dripping from where it landed on her hand and gown, intoxicated her.

“I shall always be grateful that your father performed his matchmaking duties with competence; we are well-suited, witch.”

She tugged Lucius over to the bed by his less insistent cock.

“I wouldn’t worry, Lucius,” Narcissa purred as she slipped the straps of her sleeping gown from her shoulders and let the garment fall to the Persian carpet.

Climbing his recumbent body, she lay naked and enfolded in his arms.

“I’m sure Ms. Granger’s motives will reveal themselves in time. As long as they continue to benefit Draco and the House of Malfoy, I’m inclined to let her continue her useful efforts.

“Now — love me, husband.”
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