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The Wolf, the Otter, and the Slytherin	By : Tri Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 32025 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the world of Harry Potter. I merely write for fun.

Chapter List
- 8
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Hermione swallowed down an owl sized lump in her throat as she looked up at the fine manor in front of her. The long hedge trail toward the front door sent shivers down her spine. The large estate was not as dark as she remembered, maybe because last time Hermione was so focused on surviving rather taking in the sights. The young Gryffindor let out a shaky breath, swearing she could see the puff of her own breath. The summer air did little to quall the cold chill the manor brought.

Remus stood next to her, his body was on edge as well but not the way her body was. The tall man was standing close to her, as if fearing that if he left her out of his sights then Hermione would vanish. Even Harry hung around her as well, his wand in his hand and ready to fight.

She felt Remus fingers intertwined with hers, clasping her hand tightly to keep her grounded. “You know, you don’t have to do this. We can ask someone else.”

Hermione could barely form a reassuring smile to her face, “I can do this. I need to do this. He is offering something we have been asking for weeks now. I will not let this opportunity slip away,”

It was funny how a few hours ago; Hermione was saying the complete opposite.

--

“No! You would have to be as dumb as a troll to think I would go back there willingly!” Hermione screech was mirror copy of Mrs. Black’s.

She paced the living room; the anger was affecting even her hair as it bloomed into a horrid disarray of fizz and fuzz. Hermione’s blue and white tennis shoes were marking scuff marks, burning into the wood, in each turn.

“I know what happened in there but Hermione, Mr. Malfoy is giving you information, for free. I say you go and see what he has.” the poor redhead failed at trying to calm the brilliant witch down.

Hermione snarled, pointing a finger at Ginny’s direction. “You know nothing of really happened, Ginny! While you were happily studying away, that damn Bellatrix tortured me…wounded me…hurt me as she smiled like a fairy.”

Ginny stood up straight up in her chair, her eyes dark with anger. “I was suffering too you know. Don’t make yourself out to be a martyr, Granger,”

Her shoes kicked up off the ground and jumped toward the redhead. Before she could even see the shape the freckles on her cheeks looked like, Hermione was yanked back. She screamed, kicked, and attempted to scratch at her restrainer.

“Relax, be still, Hermione.” It was charm like, as Hermione sighed and relaxed in Remus arms.

Ginny was being held back, her wand was pushed against her side, by Harry. He attempted to calm the fiery witch as well. “Ginny…Hermione enough of this, both of you. We are not doing anyone good by fighting each other like this.”

Remus nodded, his hand splayed across her back, stroking circles to calm her. Hermione sighed in bliss, feeling her body tingle with joy at the feeling of his hands on her. “Ginny, you can see why Hermione will be upset about this don’t you?” the redhead nodded. “And Hermione, you know what your friends went through while in Hogwarts?” Hermione nodded as well. “Everyone went through a lot during the War and everyone has their scars. But it is now, during this peaceful lull, that we must heal…together as friends.”

“I’m sorry, Ginny.” “Sorry, ‘Mione.”

Hermione smiled at Ginny softly, which the Weasley returned in favor. Ginny was never one to hold onto a squabble like this but her brother, Hermione had no trust in to apologize soon after one. After smiling and apologizing to her friend, Hermione found herself smiling up at Remus. The werewolf smiled down at her before he turned away when Hermione saw Harry and Ginny staring at them. Both of them blushed and Hermione pulled herself away from the werewolf. It was better not to give his wolf any attention.

She held her hand out to Harry, “May I see the letter, please? I promise; I won’t try to burn it up again.”

Harry glanced at the others for support before handing Hermione the piece of parchment. When she held it last, the waxy emblem went up in fire, burning the wax away. It had since harden but left a glob of wax to stain her fingers. It was hard to control her magic as of late.

Dear Miss Hermione Granger,

Last time we spoke, or rather saw, was at the end of the Hogwarts Battle. I owe my thanks to your friend, Mister Potter for allowing my family safety and freedom from Azkaban for the time being. During my incarceration at the Ministry, I have read about your and Mister Lupin’s situation. I know all too well what my former associate; Antonin Dolohov did to both you and Mister Lupin.

I have need of you both to come to my manor and talk about the curse itself. Information will be exchanged. Matters such as this cannot be written through owls.

I do hope you agree to meet me at three so we can all speak as civilized adults. Feel free to bring along any help with you, if you have to need to.

Sincerely,

Lucius Malfoy.

--

Hermione had to tell herself, like a mantra now, that this might be their only shot at gaining any information about the spell Dolohov casted. All the other pureblood families never responded or sent her back howlers, judging her blood heritage and mocking her. She never thought that would be the Malfoys who wanted to give her the help. It had to be a big step in a good direction or another Slytherin trick of theirs.

She took a deep breath, clinging to Remus hand tightly. Hermione tried to not have Remus go but he insisted, almost growling out his answer. The gates opened wide, letting the three entrance to the grounds. Despite the warm summer weather, Hermione pulled her long sleeved, dark green jacket over her faded iron shirt underneath. The cotton clung to her body by the humid air but Hermione didn’t want to show off the faint ‘Mudblood’ scar down her arm, especially to the Malfoys. Her trusty beaded bag hung off her shoulder; attached to her hip should she have need of it.

Hermione saw the white peacocks prancing around the exquisite grounds through the gaps in the tall hedges, cawing at each other while they peck at the ground. As they neared the front door, Hermione preened up to look at the towering manor. Blond bricks stood out from the dark green tiles as mini towers stretched toward the heavens like arms. The place was more windows than actually the brick walls.

Like walking through a cold shower, Hermione felt she was being watched. She looked up, wondering what could have caused that feeling other than the memories of the manor. At the top left corner of the top floor, Hermione swore she could see someone staring back at her. She could barely make out an outline before a curtain moved in the way.

“Come on, Hermione!” Harry called, already at the front door.

Hermione raced toward the other two. Harry raised his hand to knock on the front door yet just as his closed fist was a hair away from the door, it opened! Hermione looked down to see a short, stubby looking house-elf. Its big gray eyes blinked at all three of them before bowing its head, the long nose grazed the white marble floor.

“Whimsy greets Missy Granger and her guestz, yes yes,” the high pitch to the voice was the only inclination that this house-elf was a female. “Whimsy’s Master is waiting in the study, Whimsy will show the way, yes yes.”

The three of them followed the house-elf named Whimsy. Hermione noticed that this house-elf was dressed a lot better than the others she had seen. Instead of a raggedy and messy pillowcase, Whimsy had a mustard yellow satin pillowcase over her body. Whimsy’s large head had black whiskers that looked to be like hair as the large ears pointed toward the ceiling.

They were lead down a hallway full of portraits, moving around between frames. Each person had similar Malfoy traits, from the pure white hair to the sneer. Yet, their mouths were opening and closing like speech, no sound came out.

“Whimsy’s master wanted Missy Granger and her guestz…No talking from ancestors, no no. Feeling comfortable, Master ordered, yes yes.”

Hermione frowned, looking toward Harry and Remus. In a low whispered, “Something is up…” Both of them nodded, as to not draw attention from Whimsy.

She had no idea what Lucius Malfoy was playing at but whenever a natural bred bastard was nice to their victim that always meant that they wanted something in return. Her made sure her wand was in her arm holster, should anything happen.

The house elf led the trio through the hallway until they reach two doors. Carved into the wood was an imprint of the Malfoy crest which was a couple of snakes making up a giant M. the snakes eyes were emeralds as silver flakes shined in the candle light. Hermione could have sworn the snakes were actually moving as she could hear the soft hiss of those snakes.

The little creature had trouble pushing against the heavy doors but when the crest was broken, the doors swung open with ease. Hermione followed Harry and Remus inside the room and already Hermione could smell the wealth in here.

The carpet was rich and plush, if Hermione could afford the time; she might actually bend down to feel it. It looked so soft to touch that Hermione knew if she lay down on the rich maroon carpet that she could fall asleep very easily. The walls were wooden with square indents along the panels, the dark wood reached all the way up to a blond ceiling. A gold and silver chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling, free of any cobwebs or even specks of dirt.

Several black leather chairs and couches adorn the spacious room, which was the double the size of the Gryffindor common room. Tall French style windows looked outside to a large garden, from her spot; she could see flowers of all ranges of color and shapes. The windows were separated with tall as the wall itself bookshelf. Yet, even though the bookshelves looked heavy with books, Hermione had an inkling that there more books somewhere else.

What drew her eye the most was a large painted portrait of Narcissa Malfoy. She looked younger in the portrait as she managed a small smile as her long blond hair caressed down and over her shoulder. The pureblood witch wore a gorgeous sapphire blue dress, looking more like water as it clung to her fine form. The painted woman was holding a mirror as her hand caressed it. It was only the flicker of the light bouncing off that Hermione knew that it was an actual mirror. Unlike the many portraits outside, this one was not moving.

Under the portrait was the man of the hour, so to speak. Lucius Malfoy sat behind a long, mahogany desk, looking up at the three of them with a cool face. The many weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts seem to agree with him. The pureblood’s parlor was more vibrant than the haunted and shallow, if not edge on madness, look Hermione remembered from her nightmares. Hermione felt a sting of envy at the smooth and soft as a petal hair as his, another thing that separated her from the pureblood.

Malfoy stood up; his dark green and black vest overlapped the white Oxford shirt as his long black robe thrown over on the solid gold coat hanger. Already Hermione knew that his shoes were most expensive than her entire wardrobe. The pureblood leaned heavily on the familiar silver snake head cane of his.

“Thank you for coming to my humble manor, Mister Potter, Mister Lupin, and Miss Granger,” he greeted them all like they were old friends. “May I offer you anything? Tea, pumpkin juice, butterbeer, or Firewhiskey?”

Instead of refusing, Harry and Remus asked for refreshments. If Malfoy was not in the room, Hermione have scolded each one of them. Hell, she was thinking of doing that anyway.

Malfoy turned to Whimsy, “Please fetch our guests’ refreshments, Whimsy,” The house elf bowed and blinked out of the room. “Please sit anywhere.”

Hermione was hesitated to even touch anything but the floor in the whole manor. But the winged chairs were too inviting not to sit down, which turned out to be very soft for animal skin. Hermione took a seat in between Harry and Remus. The senior Malfoy took up a seat across from them and leaned into the soft leather. His fingers twirled his snake cane along the floor, staring off into space.

Whimsy appeared again, handing Harry his pumpkin juice and Remus his Firewhiskey. Malfoy took up a wine glass, filled with blood-red wine. He took a leisurely drink as her friends sipped on theirs. It was only until his second sip that Malfoy finally really noticed her, his cooling steel eyes looking over the rim.

“Miss Granger, is something wrong? You never asked for a drink.” His cool voice filled the air.

Hermione frowned, her hands folded in her lap. She sat up straight in her chair and looked at the pureblood straight on. “I’m not keen on drinking anything my enemy provides. It could be poison…”

He dared to look bored at her, not a trace of shock her words, like he even predicted it. “There is nothing harmful in those drinks. You are safe here, Miss Granger. The Ministry has taken my wand and any traces of poisons. I asked for you to come here and should anything happen to you, or your friends, it will be my head on the line. Besides, I owe Mister Potter a debt of gratitude that I hope will branch over to you as well.”

“Mr. Malfoy, before we begin, I must ask; why did you send Harry a letter when it was meant for me?” Hermione had wonder about that as soon as she saw the letter.

Malfoy gestured his hand to her, “I thought that you would ignore or perhaps burn up any letters with my family’s crest on it. Was I wrong to assume that?”

“No…no, you aren’t wrong,” Hermione replied bitterly. This man knew too much. The event that took place here left Hermione with a deep scar that would take a miracle to heal.

Remus, to her right spoke up and added himself in this conversation. “Mr. Malfoy-”

“Lucius.”

“Lucius,” Remus pressed on. “The bigger question is; why are you even offering your help? What do you have to gain?”

The pureblood aristocrat leaned into his seat, his fingers folding together as he placed her sharp chin on top. This could be a chess game to him rather a conversation. “To keep myself out of Azkaban, I must fulfill community services. I have already donated fifty thousand Galleons to various, Ministry approved, charities. But, this….predicament, should help out, I would most benefit from.”

“You want to save face and gain support from the Ministry,” Hermione stared back at the gray eyed man. “Be on everyone’s good graces and climb back to power. Am I right, Mr. Malfoy?”

His smile was the close to a cat finding a horde of mice to eat. “Well, Miss Granger, you are very astute in these matters. Spoken like a Slytherin. Yet…”

“Yet?”

“The fact of the matter is that…I have nothing,” he finished the last drop of the blood red wine with ease. “I can give nothing because I have nothing.”

Hermione felt like hexing the hair off this man’s head! After all the time, all the stress and anxiety she went through come here, he…he just pulled the expensive, softer than a cloud rug out from under her. Before she could grab her wand, a sound of a chair crashing down was soften by the carpet underneath.

Remus stood up, the left corner of his lip twitched and pulled back. “You made us come all the way here…just to say you have no information? How dare you treat us like-!”

A well manicured hand was raised, stopping the werewolf in his tracks. Malfoy’s cool gray eyes stared down the flashing yellow wolf eyes. “I said that I can give you nothing because I have nothing. The Ministry has taken everything that even glanced at dark magic. I even had to fork over bed sheets, which I saved very little by giving them to my house-elves as clothes. Everything that could have information on Dolohov’s curse is locked up in the Ministry.”

“Why don’t we just ask the Ministry for help?” Harry questioned, speaking up for their group.

Hermione stared at her lap, her mind racing as she thought over everyone’s words. A light bulb went off. “Because it isn’t technically a Ministry issue, Harry, rather something personal. The Ministry isn’t going to help out…especially when they are still working on escaped Death Eaters and cleaning up their image. Beside,” brown eyes collided with the quicksilver orbs across from her. “If we gain information from the Ministry, that means that the Ministry would have helped out and that would result in Mr. Malfoy not having chances of being good in the Ministry’s eyes.”

A thin black eyebrow arched up, “Again, Miss Granger, you have hit the nail on the head before the nail was even placed. I have…great interest in solving this matter and if I happen to be win the trust of the public once more, than…as the muggle saying goes; hit two birds with one stone.”

The raven haired boy next to her placed his butterbeer down on the marble table in between the four. “Yet you asked us to come. In your letter, you said that had information.” He pointed out.

Malfoy lips curled down, the look of disappointment was clear as Hermione’s hair was unmanageable. “I had hoped that you would help out in that department.” His eyes were more on her as he ignored the other two. Hermione couldn’t help but stare back, like the pureblood had power in his gaze.

Remus let out a huff hybrid with a sigh, he was much calmer now. “We have tried but we found nothing that most children know. Right Hermione? Hermione?”

“Actually Remus, I found something in Sirius old room. But, I haven’t been able to translate it,” Hermione tore her gaze from the pureblood at last, she could breathe again.

Hermione pulled out her beaded bag from her pocket and looked through it. It might have been a shock to the older wizards watching the half of her arm going inside a small bag. Hermione had emptied the bag of the old camping equipment but kept some personal belongings inside. The witch grabbed and pulled out a thick book. The dark red leather was raised along the spine in lines. Flakes of what was gold stretched along the rim of the pages but due to the old age, the gold was scare, leaving behind a yellow tint. Burned on the cover was the title of the book, Le Cravatte all' Anima. Unlike the rest of the book, the letters were outlined with both silver and copper.

“Do you know Italian?” When he nodded Hermione had to stretch out her arm to offer the book to the pureblood.

The pureblood frowned and flipped through the first few pages. “My Italian is a bit rusty…it looks there the author threw in some Latin and some French as well. But it is seems to be of some use…”

“Can you translate it?”

Malfoy scoffed, glaring down at Harry like he was a tiny insect to be crushed under his dragonhide boots. “Of course I can, Mr. Potter. I will send for you when I am done. Good day to all of you.”

Hermione did not need to be told twice to leave. As they left, Hermione felt the same feeling as before. When she turn around to look at the same window, she could make out a white hand clenching the curtain before the figure disappeared from view.

--

Author’s note: God, this chapter annoyed me, especially at the former ending to this. Now, it is good and soon we will see a special guest come around in the next chapter. Please review!
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The Wolf, the Otter, and the Slytherin