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Some Blond Fool	By : AndreaLorraine Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 46885 -:- 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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Author�s Note:� This is going to be a long one.� Firstly, sorry for last chapter, I know it was cruel, but this is adult fanfiction
� I�m trying to bring the smut.� As much
as I wanted Hermione to get it on with Lucius, I
think it would be pushing her boundaries as a character if I had her sleeping
with two men in two days.� She�s
emotionally confused, yes, but Hermione learns from her mistakes.� She jumped into things too quickly with Draco, and thus something would stop her from doing the same
with Lucius.�
That said, I think I�ve pulled off a bit of a coup here, getting many of
you Dramione fans to actually like Lucius more than Draco.� I know Draco�s been
a little flaky thus far, but he�ll be getting more screen time soon and will
become deserving of Hermione.� If I could
cross-post this story to both Lucius/Hermione and Draco/Hermione categories, I would, but I don�t think that�s
possible.� It really is meant to be a
difficult choice between them � and Draco has changed
as much as Lucius has, becoming a quieter, more
introverted character.� That�s not
usually how he�s portrayed, so maybe that�s why some of you aren�t sold, but
his reasons will become clear in upcoming chapters.� I�m amazed, some of you are really up in arms
about Lucius; a few were actually enraged enough to
stop reading when Hermione sleeps with Draco!� I want to be clear: Lucius
does like Hermione, but he doesn�t love
her.� He is what he is and sees nothing
wrong with indulging in physical comfort if they both need it, but again � he doesn�t
love her.� He�s just become a strangely
good man.� Plus, the UST (unresolved
sexual tension) is in the summary for a reason.�
Don�t hate me, guys, I�m a slave to the
muse!� Oh, and don�t mind my
preoccupation with Prague;
since I went there last year it�s been the muse�s base of operations.� Everyone should go there, it�s beautiful.

This chapter�el shito hits el fano.� Call it �Skeeter
Strikes Back.�

�� That was exactly what she did.� She called her mum, explained her need to get
away, and found herself with the aforementioned mum drinking a cold pilsner on
a boat sailing the River Vlatava.� She had never been to Prague and regretted it immensely.� On her right she could see a castle jutting
into the sky, prominent above houses and other buildings that climbed a long,
low hill.� On the left she could see a
cluster of gothic spires and the long promenade of Charles Bridge.� It was noon and she was on her second
beer.� Her mother was already giggling,
tipsy, regaling a German man that had made the mistake of sitting near them
with stories of root canals and the relative merits of porcelain veneers.� Why had she not come here before?

�� Right, because Ron didn�t like to
travel.� His wanderlust was nearly
nonexistent and displayed itself in bursts every five years or so.� The only place she had ever gone with him was
Spain.� That trip had been wonderful, romantic,
everything she could have asked for, but she realized now that it was an
aberration.� Everything about her
relationship with Ron had been a blip in his life, a peculiarity of behavior
for six years.� He was back to his old
self now, back to the friend who cared just a tad too much.� As painful as it had been, thank goodness she
had gotten away. �Remaining any longer
would have killed both of them.

�� Before leaving she had gone to see
Ron.� He had reacted strongly when she
told him about what Skeeter had done.� She had told him everything else, too � that
the relationship with Lucius was a sham (sort of),
that Draco was out gathering evidence against Skeeter, that in the end they would, hopefully, have their
revenge.� She had conveniently left out
that she had passionate sex with Draco and that she
seriously thought about doing the same with Lucius.� She was still
regretting that.� Even now, on this
ridiculous boat with a microcosm of the world in the tourists around her, she
wished she had been gutsy enough to force him to make good on his flirtation.

�� Ron had solemnly agreed to testify
against Skeeter if they managed to gather enough
evidence.� That might change if and when
she actually fell for either of the Malfoys.� Ron had proven to be a strong man, one who
could withstand much, but her ending up with a Malfoy
was a bruise to his ego that might never be healed.� She hated to destroy one relationship to
promote another, but Ron had done enough destroying on his own.

�� Hermione.�� Her mother jabbed her in the ribs.

�� Ow!� she
protested.� �What?�

�� That nice Icelandic boy is looking
at you.�

�� In spite of herself she looked,
careful to make it seem like she wasn�t glancing at anyone in particular.� Her mother was trying to be helpful,
encouraging a fling to assist her in getting over Ron.� She had been doing it from the moment they
got on the plane.� She had to admit he
was cute; medium height, shaggy black hair cut in a fashionable shape, and �
oh.� Those eyes, blue as an iceberg, not
unlike�

�� No.�
She was not going to screw some cute Icelandic boy in her tour group
because he had eyes like Lucius.� She did not need to screw someone that reminded her of him to push him out of
her mind.� That was something men did in
romance novels when they were in denial about loving someone or when they
wanted what they couldn�t have.� She did
not fit any of those criteria.

�� Hermione?�

�� Mum,� she said, turning to the
woman that had birthed her, �can I tell you something if you promise you won�t
judge me?�

�� So there they were, sitting beneath
a yellow awning sipping Staropramen in the shadow of
the Astronomical Clock.

�� All right,� Lisa Granger said,
drumming her fingers on the table.� �What
is it I�m not supposed to judge you for?�

�� Hermione took a gulp of the beer for
strength and then set the large mug down.�
She had been drinking entirely too much lately.� If things continued as they were, she
couldn�t foresee that trend diminishing.

�� Since I separated from
Ron�I�ve�been seeing someone.�

�� Hermione, that�s wonderful!� Why would I judge you for that?�

�� Because I�ve been
seeing two someones.�

�� Her mother took it in stride,
nodding.� �There�s no ring on your finger
anymore.� You�re allowed.�

�� Hermione dug herself deeper.� If she couldn�t talk to her mother about
this, she couldn�t talk to anyone.�
�Those two someones�are�father and son.�

�� That did the trick.� Lisa Granger�s brown eyes went wide.� She took a hasty sip of her own beer,
processing what her daughter told her and trying not to overreact.

�� How old are they?� she managed.

�� Twenty-five and�� Hermione
grimaced.� This was going to sound
bad.� �Fifty-one.�

�� Do they know about one another?� her mother demanded, scandalized.� Things were snowballing now.� Soon she was going to have to remind her mum
that she had promised not to judge.

�� Yes, they know.�

�� And they�re�they don�t�fifty-one!�
Lisa sputtered.

�� Believe me, mum, he doesn�t look it
or act it.�

�� That doesn�t change the fact that
he�s old enough to be your father!�

�� Hermione shrunk in her chair.� Her mother was becoming loud.� People who understood English were starting
to stare.� She made a shushing motion with
her hand.� Mercifully her mother
understood and reigned in some semblance of composure.

�� All right,� Lisa Granger
breathed.� �I�m not judging.� I�m trying not to judge.�

�� Mum��

�� There�s more?�

�� Hermione nodded apologetically.� Her mum took three deep breaths and appeared
to steel herself.

�� All right.� Let�s hear it.�

�� I slept with one of them.�

�� It was a good thing that Lisa was
not drinking her beer.� If she had been,
she would have spit it out.� �Is that a
good idea?� she said weakly.� �You�re just
out of a divorce, you�re vulnerable, not thinking
straight.� I � Jesus
Mary and Joseph, which one?!�

�� The son.�

�� The twenty-five
year old.�

�� Yes.�

�� Her mother sighed with relief,
appearing to have reconciled herself with the idea of her daughter having sex.� �All right.� Was he good, at least?�

�� Yes.�� Hermione crossed her legs, beating back the
sensual memories.

�� So�you�re going to pick him, then?�

�� I wish it was that simple,� she
sighed.� �That�s the problem, Mum.� I like them both.� I�almost slept with the father the other
day.� The day I called you and told you I
needed to get away.� And you know what�s
worse?� I really wish I had.� I can�t stop thinking about him.�

�� Hermione, are you depressed?� Not sleeping?�
On some kind of drug?�

�� She laughed out loud.� �No, Mum.�

�� You don�t do things like this.� You�re an intellectual.� You don�t care about sex.�

�� Normally, you�re right.�

�� Lisa shook her head.� �This can�t end well.� Never mind that it is strange to be with two
men who are related in that way.�
Brothers I can understand, but father and son?� Eventually they�ll become jealous of one
another.� You�ll destroy their family.�

�� I know.�

�� They�ll hate one another and
probably hate you.�

�� I know.�

�� People will talk about you.�

�� I know.�

�� You know all this.�

�� Yes.�

�� Her mother sighed and rubbed the
bridge of her nose.� The hour chimed,
temporarily distracting them; they both looked up at the clock tower, watching
marionettes of the twelve Apostles cycle.�
It was an amazing piece of ingenuity, really, a fully automated
showpiece that was well over five hundred years old.� The square stopped and a thousand camera
flashes went off.� After the minute
passed, the crowd resumed its business and Hermione�s reprieve was over.

�� Hermione, I say this as your friend
and not your mother.� You are a great
woman, and you deserve to have the attention of whatever man you desire.� If that man is twice your age, so be it.� If that man is more than one man, so be
it.� You�re a modern woman and that�s
what modern women do, I guess.� But no
matter how much you like these two, no matter how much you hope they can
continue not to be jealous of one another, it won�t happen.� Three people will get hurt and you�ll end up
alone and carrying a bad reputation.�

�� Hermione swallowed.� �Noted.�� She drew patterns in the condensation on her
mug.� �What do you say as a mother,
then?�

�� Dump them both,� her mother
responded immediately, �or keep the twenty-five year old.�

�� The father is rich, Mum.� Rich and
attractive and has an arse like Adonis.�� She grinned to show she was kidding � but not
entirely.

�� Enough, Hermione,� Lisa Granger
said, reaching her limit.� �If you don�t
stop, I�ll start talking about your father�s bodily gifts.�

�� Oh, God, that won�t be necessary!�
she said a little too quickly.

�� They both dissolved into giggles,
and once again the members of their tour group stared at them.� In the four days they had been there, they
had easily become the oddest pair in the mix.�
But that Icelandic boy kept staring � and Hermione kept ignoring him,
trying her best to forget any men with pale blue eyes.

�� Harry did his best to huddle under
the umbrella.� Hermione really ought to
open her fireplace to the floo network again, but he
supposed she had been too busy and too upset to get around to it.� On a nice day the walk from the apparition
point wasn�t bad, but today was not nice.�
It was cool and gloomy and pouring rain, coupled with wind that blew the
fat drops horizontally.� His cloak was
going to be soaked.� The umbrella kept
inverting in the wind.

�� He was bringing her a Puddlemere United jersey and tickets to his first
match.� He had signed with the team
yesterday.� For once gossip about him ran
rampant, temporarily replacing the headlines his other best friends had been
making.� He didn�t miss the overexposure.

�� There was her flat, thank
goodness.� The usual cadre of owls was
absent; he�d finally gotten around to making it Unplottable.� The owls couldn�t find her, nor could the
reporters.� With a slight shiver he edged
beneath the overhang that shielded her door.�
He folded the umbrella and lifted his hand to knock.

�� Nothing.

�� Hermione?� he called out.� �It�s Harry, I�ve
got something for you.�

�� Still nothing.� Was she out of town?� At Malfoy�s?� She had been spending too much time there�

�� At that moment a flare of terror
engulfed him as a strong hand clamped onto his shoulder.� He whirled, his wand coming to his hand
automatically � and he actually poked Draco Malfoy in the eye.

�� Ow!� Son of a�.ohhhhh,� Malfoy moaned, one hand over his
eye and the other over his stomach.� With
his shock controlled, Harry noticed how pale he was.� Pale and soaked to the skin.� Was that�blood on his shirtfront, diluted
into a shocking scarlet mess?

�� What�s wrong with you?� Harry
asked, panic returning.

�� Malfoy
couldn�t answer.� His legs were not
supporting him.� Unthinking, Harry
grabbed his arms to steady him.� The
blonde was in serious pain, trembling and speechless with it.

�� Malfoy,
what happened?� he demanded.

�� Draco
shook his head.� He opened his mouth �
his lips were grey, unnatural � and a thick stream of blood dripped down his
chin.� He gestured to his arm.� On the inside of his elbow there was a
rapidly darkening bruise surrounding a small puncture mark.� It looked like someone had forcibly given him
an injection of something.

�� P-poison,� he choked.� �Dying�Potter�!�

�� Right.� Right, he was dying.� That called for action.� Without much thought, Harry wrapped the
bleeding Malfoy in a bear hug and apparated.

�� The apparition to St. Mungo�s made it worse.�
Draco was barely breathing.� He was coughing up blood and Harry was forced
to press the Puddlemere United jersey to his lips to
soak it up.� The mediwitches
took one look at them and wrenched Draco from his
grasp.� Harry was left alone in the
waiting room, a broad splash of Malfoy�s blood across
his shirt, disturbed and bewildered.

�� Lucius was
not paying attention to the conference call.�
Something was nagging at his consciousness.� Something was out of place.� Sighing, he lifted his eyes to the window and
watched the rain drip down the glass, distorting the outside world.� It was the first rain since that violent
storm after Ginny Weasley�s confession.� He was beginning to feel as bad as he had
then.

�� A sound startled him.� He turned his head, training his ear.� Someone was in his flat.� He left the phone going; if something
happened, they would hear.� They could
call for help on his behalf.� The
Ministry monitored his vital signs, too, from afar, and aurors
would come if they were disrupted.� They
had granted him that, since he was essentially defenseless and someone many
people would like to see dead.

�� He stood up but didn�t move.� He would stay put.� He had a pocket knife in the drawer.� It would be mostly useless.� He had no other weapon except his own wits.� They were not to be underestimated, though�

�� A shadow fell in the doorway.� It was him � the mud-haired paparazzo.

�� Hello, Mr. Malfoy,�
he said, his voice cold.� He had no
camera.� He wasn�t here to take pictures,
then.

�� So we meet again.�

�� So we do.�

�� The voices on the phone had paused,
hearing the exchange.

�� Hang up the phone, Malfoy.� Don�t try
anything.� You�ll be sorry if you do.�

�� Luc?� a distant voice asked.� Emma, the muggle
client from Leeds - she sounded pretty over
the phone, though he�d never seen her to prove it.� �Is something wrong?�

�� Yes,� he said.� There�s
someone in my house trying to kill me.�
�Goodbye, Emma.�

�� Wait!�� But he had already hit the button, cutting
her off.� Silence filled the room.

�� Well here we are, Malfoy,� the paparazzo said.� �We haven�t been properly introduced.� My name is Ethan.�

�� Lucius
declined his head slightly.� The
photographer cum hit man�s wand was in his hand, tapping against the side of
his leg.� It would not be long before he
used it.� All right, then � it was time
for pain or death or both.� This Ethan
looked like the type who might be stupid enough to play around instead of
killing his quarry right away, though.�
That alone would give him a chance.�
That, Lucius reflected a bit
too serenely, was his only chance. �

�� Hermione thought she was
hallucinating.� What the hell was Harry
doing in her hotel room in Prague?

�� Hermione!� he whispered
sharply.� �Hermione, wake up.�

�� Harry?� she said blearily,
blinking.�

�� Yes.� Hermione, you have to come with me.�

�� What�s wrong?�� Her senses were returning, and along with
them a strong feeling of dread.� Harry
would not come all the way to the Czech Republic to find her if something was
not terribly wrong.� �Is Ginny all right?� Ron?�

�� They�re both fine.�� Harry frowned, the urgency of the situation
making it all right for him to see her in her underwear.� There was no air conditioner and it was hot
and her mother didn�t care.� He handed
her a shirt and she hurriedly threw it on, along with a pair of capris that were draped over a chair.

�� Is my mum safe to be here alone?�

�� He nodded.� �Leave her a note.� I don�t know how long this will take.�

�� Harry, what is wrong?�

�� Harry bit his lip.� �The Malfoys.� Someone�got both of them.�

�� Got?� What do you mean, got?� she whispered.� She had to hold onto a chair.� Please, please don�t let him say that they
were dead.� Please�

�� Draco was
poisoned.� They don�t know any more than
that.� Lucius��

�� Tell me,� she pressed.� It hurt like hell, but she had to know.

�� Someone attacked him.� Hexed him badly.� Aurors intervened
in time.� They�re both at St. Mungo�s, both touch and go right now.�

�� Oh, sweet Merlin.� This has to be��

�� Harry took hold of her arm.� �Come with me now, speculate later,
Hermione.�� And she was being pulled away
in the grip of side-along apparition, Harry guiding her back to her conundrum
that was now a hundred times more complicated.

�� They were in different wards.� She didn�t know who to go see first.� She was about to ask Harry to pick a number
when she noticed the brick-colored stain on his sleeve.

�� Is that blood?� she asked, aghast.

�� He nodded.� �Malfoy�s.� Draco�s,� he
clarified.

�� You brought him in?�

�� He showed up at your flat when I
was there to drop something off.�� Harry
gave her a penetrating look.� �He didn�t
have a lot of time.� The healers say it
was a potent poison.� Hermione, he chose
you to save his life.�

�� She burst into tears.� Harry blanched.� Oh, that was not what he had intended.�
She was thinking that she hadn�t been there in his time of need and
feeling horribly guilty.� Harry had only
meant it in the sense that Malfoy�s trust spoke
volumes.� He was surer now than ever that
she was actually involved with Draco, if not with both of them.� Good Lord.

�� I didn�t mean it like that,� he
said softly, pulling her into a hug.�
�Don�t feel guilty.� It isn�t your
fault.�

�� It is, Harry!� This has something to do with Skeeter, I�m telling you!�

�� Come on,� he said gently,
physically moving her.� �You should see
them now.�

�� When they walked into Draco�s room, the mediwizard was
there making notes.

�� Ah,� he said, �Mr. Potter.� You�ll be pleased to know that Mr. Malfoy is going to pull through.�

�� Harry breathed a sigh of
relief.� �Thank you.�

�� No, thank you.� Another few minutes and he would have been
beyond our abilities to save.�

�� I�m glad I was in the right place
at the right time, then.�

�� The mediwizard
nodded and shook Harry�s hand.� He gave
Hermione a sympathetic look and squeezed her shoulder.

�� He�ll be fine in a week or so,
miss.�

�� But Draco
didn�t look fine.� He looked nearly dead
in the hospital bed, as pale as the sheets, stained with dried blood.� His breathing was shallow.� She sat down, trying to center herself.� He was going to be all right.� There was no reason to fall to pieces.� Harry rubbed her shoulder and the slight
pressure calmed her.�

�� I have to go, Hermione.� But I wanted to tell you something before I
left.�� He walked around and sat across
from her on the edge of Draco�s bed, careful not to
disturb him or any of the equipment.�
�After he came out of acute treatment, he was semiconscious, babbling a
lot.� Most of it was nonsense, but�he did
say a few things that were important.�

�� Like what?� she sniffled.

�� He grabbed my arm and asked me to
tell you that he loves you.�

�� A stunned moment of silence
passed.� Then she looked at him
incredulously.� �And you think that
wasn�t nonsense?�

�� It wasn�t, Hermione.� He meant it.��
Harry sighed.� He had made a few
deathbed confessions of his own, thinking his end was near, and consequently he
knew the look of a man who was doing the same.�
�He wouldn�t have said anything if he didn�t think he was going to die,
but obviously he did.� He thought it was
his last chance.�

�� Damn Draco
and his last chances.� Tears prickled in
her eyes.

�� My gut instinct,� Harry went on,
�is to warn you away.� To
tell you not to get involved with him.�
But I know what he�s doing for you.�
He�s really turned things around.�
And while I barely trust him�� Harry shrugged, �love is hard to deny,
and sometimes it�s enough to make a person change.�� He gave her a platonic kiss on the cheek and
stood.� �The other one is on the third
floor, room 319.� Floo
if you need anything.�

�� She sat with Draco
for a long time, until a nurse chased her out so he could finally wash the
dried blood from his torso.� Time, then,
to face Lucius.�
Her albatross�

�� His room was cool and dark.� She knew instantly that someone was already
there with him.� She wasn�t sure who it
could be.� Whoever it was, they were
crying.� She had thought that only Draco would shed a tear for him, Draco
and herself, so who was this, sniffling and sobbing quietly?� She edged into the room cautiously.� Oh.� It
was Narcissa�

�� The pretty witch hadn�t aged
much.� Whether that was because of good
genes or cosmetic spells, she�d never know.�
Right now her sculpted cheeks were flushed, her eyes red and swollen, a
handkerchief held to her narrow nose.�
Hermione saw why; Lucius looked terrible.� Where Draco had
been pale, white as a ghost, Lucius�s face was a
vibrant smear of blood and bruises, his lip split and puffy.� And if Narcissa was
crying like this, his prognosis couldn�t be good.

�� Hermione felt tears pool in her own
eyes.� It must have been terrible for
him, completely defenseless, not even able to call for help.� The things they could have done to him, might have done to him�and she was sure he had taken it
all in resigned quietude, stoic even in his own death.� And it was her fault.� She had been the
one to suck him � them� � into this.� No matter how willing they had been, this was
her plot.� Her foolish
quest for ill-defined vengeance.�
She should have gotten to know her enemy a little better.� Never had she thought that Rita Skeeter was capable of this.� Had her impromptu trip with her mother saved
her from a similar fate?

�� Her sniffle gave her away.� Narcissa�s head
jerked up.� Her watery blue eyes took
Hermione in and she stood up abruptly.

�� I guess�he doesn�t need�his silly
ex-wife�for company�now that you�re here,� she gasped out, her breath unsteady
from the crying.� She evidently believed
what the papers had been saying � that Hermione and Lucius
were a couple.

�� Don�t go,� Hermione replied.� �Please, stay.�

�� Narcissa
sat back down warily, unsure what to make of her.� Hermione noticed the substantial ring on her
left hand; she had remarried, then.� It
said a lot that she was here, though, sobbing over the man she had left.

�� They were quiet for a long
time.� Though their coexistence was
strained, it was still comforting.� Narcissa�s tears tapered off, as did Hermione�s, and they
sat in exhausted catharsis as the moon rose outside.

�� Why would anyone do this to him?� Narcissa said at last.�
�He�s been perfect since the end of the war, absolutely perfect.�

�� Sometimes perfect isn�t good
enough,� Hermione offered.

�� Don�t I know it,� the other woman
murmured, folding her handkerchief.� Narcissa Black offered her a fragile smile.� �I should go see Draco.�

�� Hermione nodded.� �They�ll be all right,� she felt compelled to
say.

�� Narcissa
turned back at the door, scanning the curly-haired witch at her ex-husband�s
bedside.� �Yes,� she said softly, �I
think they will.�

��

� �

�� Harry lay in bed, Ginny pillowed against
his chest.� They were silent, listening
intently to the Wizard Wireless.� Once
again the Malfoys were eclipsing his own headlines,
but for a good reason.

�� He never would have thought that
wizards and witches would be in a righteous uproar about a former Death Eater
and his son.� Most people should have
turned up their nose at his misfortune, thinking that he deserved it and not
sparing a moment�s pity for him.� But the
people wiring in to Kalafut and Icarus�s
radio show were anything but apathetic.

�� It�s an outrage,� a male listener
was ranting.� �A wizard should have the
right to defend himself.� Malfoy�s done six years without tripping up.� Giving him his wand back is not going to
suddenly turn him into a monster.�

�� The next person, a woman, said, �He�s
reformed, there�s no doubt about it.� It
isn�t right that we continue to punish him when the punishment has obviously
done its job.�

�� I think the Ministry is lucky that
this didn�t happen before now,� Icarus chimed
in.� �It�s ludicrous to leave any wizard
with his past utterly defenseless.� If he
dies, it�s on their head.� A lot of
people won�t be happy about it.�

�� He could die?� Ginny said, her
finger idly tracing a circle on Harry�s chest.�
�It�s that bad?�

�� Harry nodded.

�� And one has to wonder if Draco Malfoy�s poisoning is
related,� Kalafut added.� �St. Mungo�s has
stated that young Mr. Malfoy will be all right, but
he was very close to death.�

�� It must be.� Same day.� How could it not be related?� Icarus said.� �This
was an attempt to erase the Malfoys.�

�� That leads us back to the question,
who would do this, and why now?� Who
would target both of them?� Draco Malfoy is in possession of
his wand, so who is dangerous enough to attempt murder on a fully armed,
well-trained wizard and nearly get away with it?�

�� There are no answers just yet, but
folks, if you have any information, please contact the Ministry.� Let�s catch these madmen before they hurt
anyone else.�

�� Harry flicked his wand and the
wireless turned off.� The lights were
next.� Both of them were curiously
exhausted.

�� The dog,� Ginny said sleepily,
shifting against him.� �His
other dog.� No one will be there
to feed it or walk it.�

�� It can last the night,� Harry
replied.� �We�ll take care of it in the
morning.� �

��

�� It didn�t occur to them that they
wouldn�t be able to get in until Ginny had led them almost all the way
there.�

�� An alohomora
would work, don�t you think?� Harry asked.

�� If you were Malfoy,
would you leave your flat unwarded?� Ginny asked.

�� Good point.�

�� Ginny sighed.� �I feel awful.� That poor dog.�

�� Hermione can probably get in.� We�ll pay her a visit at St. Mungo�s.�� They stood
outside Malfoy�s flat now, staring up at it.

�� Excuse me?� a female voice sounded
from behind them.� �Excuse me, are you
friends of Luc Malfoy?�

�� They turned.� A woman was standing on the sidewalk.� She was a willowy thirtysomething,
with dark brown curls and blue eyes.� A
pair of glasses that suited her face was perched on her nose, and she was
dressed in a deep blue blouse and a slate-colored pencil skirt.� Harry was careful not to let his glance
linger too long; Ginny would smack him.�
She was pretty, though, towering in heels that made her almost as tall
as him.

�� Yes,� Ginny answered slowly, as
unaccustomed to that admission as Harry was.

�� Oh, thank goodness.� Is he all right?�

�� Harry and Ginny exchanged a
glance.� How would this muggle woman know he�d been attacked?

�� Her fingers twined nervously.� �I was on the phone with him when someone
came in.� Told him hang up and not to try
anything or he�d regret it.� I asked him
if something was wrong and he said yes and then he hung up.� I called the police, of course, but I never
heard anything back.� No one seemed to
know what I was talking about when I called.�

�� That was about right.� The aurors would
get there before the police even got in their cars and records of a call to muggle authorities would be erased.�

�� He�s�� Harry started.

�� He�s a little worse for the wear,�
Ginny took over.� �They�re not sure if
he�s going to make it.�

�� Oh,� the woman said, her hand going
to her mouth.� �Oh, that�s awful.�

�� I�m Ginny, by the way,� the redhead
said, holding out a hand.� �This is my
boyfriend Harry.�

�� Emma,� she said, visibly
upset.� �I�m one of his clients.� I came down from Leeds
when I couldn�t get any answers��

�� He�s under the best care he can
get,� Harry said.� �And he�s strong.�

�� She nodded.� �Any chance I could see him?�� She sighed.�
�It�s silly, we�ve never even met face to face, but I was so worried.�

�� It�s perfectly understandable,�
Ginny sympathized.� �You must have been
frightened.�� She looked at Harry briefly
before turning back to Emma.� �Right now
only family is allowed to be with him, but why don�t you give me your phone
number?� We can call you when that
changes.�

�� Oh, thank you so much.� That would be great.�� The brunette scrawled a number on the back of
her card.� �The number on the front is my
office.� The back is my mobile.�

�� You�ll hear from us,� Ginny smiled,
taking the card.� Emma nodded and began
to walk down the block, a set of car keys in her hand.

�� What was that all about?� Harry
asked when she was out of earshot.

�� For one thing, if she heard the
attacker�s voice she could potentially identify him or testify against him,�
Ginny said.� Harry felt stupid for not thinking
of that, but that was why he had Ginny.�
�And for another, she�s gorgeous.�

�� What does that have to do with
anything?�

�� Ginny just smiled.� �Let�s go to St. Mungo�s.�
�

Four days later

�� Hermione sat with Narcissa and Ginny.�
By now it had become a comfortable vigil; she and Narcissa
alternated between Draco and Lucius,
and Ginny stopped by every now and then to keep them company.� She could see that Ginny and Narcissa genuinely liked one another, something no one
would have expected.� The two of them
chattered like old girlfriends, most of the time about things she had never
heard of, but that was all right.

�� They were chattering about just such
a thing now.� Hermione had tuned them
out, mostly, her eyes fixed on Lucius�s face.� She had stared into him for hours, willing
him to wake, praying that he would come out of it, and only the bruised,
comatose mask met her.� But today�

�� Look!� she nearly shouted, hoping
she wasn�t hallucinating.� Ginny and Narcissa stopped mid-sentence and cast their eyes eagerly
upon him.

�� He was stirring.� His eyes flickered.� Then, with what appeared to be a very great
effort, his lashes rose and the reassuring blue of his irises were revealed.� His eyes were focused, coherent � he was
back.

�� Lucius!� Narcissa gasped,
moving forward to encircle his hand with her smaller ones.

�� Ah, look,� he said hoarsely, his
eyes scanning.� �It�s my�favorite women,
all waiting melodramatically at my bedside.��
Ginny did not bat an eye at her inclusion; she figured she was in the
group because she was there and he was half-delirious.� Hermione, however, couldn�t find a trace of a
polite lie in his speech.

�� Don�t joke,� she said.

�� I�m tired,� he murmured, his eyes
closing briefly before he forced them open again.� �Find the phone.�

�� What?�

�� The phone.� The cell phone, mobile,
whatever.�

�� Why?�

�� It was in my pocket.� I got him to talk.� It was recording the entire thing.� But I think it fell out, onto the floor�� he
paused, his face contorting slightly as some unknown pain washed over him.� His voice was more labored when he
continued.� �He implicated Skeeter, the idiot.�

�� I knew it!� Hermione exploded.� �I knew this was related to that�that�!�

�� Cunt?� Narcissa supplied,
perfectly proper and angelic in spite of the vulgar declaration.� Hermione blinked, mildly shocked, but then
nodded.� Ginny smiled, and Lucius let out a brief laugh before he thought better of
it, wincing.

�� Still�sharp, I see,� he said.� Then he frowned.� �Where is Draco?�

�� Hermione shared an apprehensive
glance with the other women.� Draco was not doing as well as they thought he would, but
he was in no danger of dying.� Still, Lucius didn�t know he was ill at all and he wouldn�t take
it well.

�� Downstairs,� Narcissa
said craftily.� It wasn�t a lie.� He was
downstairs.� It just conveniently left
out the fact that he, too, was laid up in a hospital bed.� �He�ll be back in a while.�

�� Lucius
nodded, too tired to have caught the mild current of deception.� �Phone,� he said, his eyes slipping
shut.� �And�dog.� Oberon.�

�� Oberon�s fine.� Harry and I have him,� Ginny said.

�� Lucius
nodded again, and a mere second later he was asleep. �

��

�� Draco�s
grey eyes opened, tired but aware, and he gave Hermione a weak smile.� �Hi.�

�� Hi,� she responded, shutting the
door behind her.� �Your father is awake.�

�� Finally,� he said, closing his eyes
in relief.� He didn�t need to say how
worried he had been; it showed on his face.�
He was still ashen, still exhausted, but he no longer looked like a
corpse.

�� Now you can stop worrying and focus
on getting yourself better.�

�� Draco�s
chapped lips curved into another smile.�
�You sound just like my mum.�

�� Well, your mum is a smart witch.�

�� I�m glad you two get along.�� His fingers fidgeted with the hem of the
sheet that covered him.� �I didn�t think
you�d like her much.�

�� Why?� she asked curiously.

�� Well, when we were talking about
the divorce, back when all of this started, you had this silent accusation in
your eyes.� Like�how could she leave
him?�

�� Hermione was taken aback.� She knew that sometimes her thoughts
displayed on her face a little too readily, but Draco�s
interpretation was spot-on.� Narcissa Black had occupied a strange compartment in the
back of her mind from the beginning, tormenting her with ambiguity.� Was it Narcissa who
was the cruel one, or had Lucius really deserved to
be left?� She still didn�t know, but Narcissa was not at all like she thought she would be.

�� I�m sure she had her reasons,�
Hermione said at last.� �It isn�t my
right to pry.�

�� Draco
nodded and breathed a sigh that turned into a yawn.� He was relaxing, but there was one more bomb
that she had to drop on him before he got to sleep.

�� Your father said that it was
someone associated with Skeeter that attacked him.�

�� Draco�s
eyes flew open.� �Really?�

�� Yes.� He also said that he recorded the whole thing
on his mobile, so there is concrete evidence.�

�� I never thought I�d say this, but
thank goodness for muggle technology,� Draco shook his head.�
Hermione smiled.

�� With that recording and what she
did to Ron, we ought to be able to put her away.�� She sat on the edge of his bed,
thoughtful.� �And if we can connect the
poisoning to her, also��

�� I told you, I didn�t see who stuck
me.� I was in a crowd.� Someone just walked by, jabbed me, and faded
away.� I couldn�t waste time looking
around.�

�� It had to be someone she hired,�
Hermione insisted.� �People don�t just go
around randomly poisoning one another.�

�� I don�t doubt for a minute that she
had something to do with it.� I was
sticking my nose into things I shouldn�t have.�
Evidently she got wind of it, and��

�� She�s insane,� Hermione said,
rubbing her temples.� �I didn�t think
she�d go this far.�

�� Now we know better.�� His arm wrapped around her, innocuous but
meaningful, and it occurred to her how little she knew about Draco.� He had walked
back into her life suddenly and explosively, said and done things she never
thought he would, propelled her to
say and do things she never thought she
would � and she had barely scratched the surface.� It made her terrifically uneasy, but she
couldn�t deny that his arm around her felt good�and safe.

�� Yes,� she said softly, resting a
hand on the cool skin of his forearm, �now we know better.� �

Author�s Note
2.0:� The question now becomes�what was Draco about to uncover in his travels?� And should Lucius
get Emma or Narcissa?�
Or both? ;)
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