Out of Mind | By : nexis Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 6108 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
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. |
Title: Out of Mind
Rating: R
Summary: A
past indiscretion comes to haunt Hermione when Draco Malfoy shows up in her
life and she has no other choice but to ride out his unexpected visit.
Note: This
story is dedicated to Raffy. She’s not only a loyal reader but also one of the
best people I have had the pleasure to meet through fanfiction and in fandom,
period. Also, this story is directed towards a mature audience due to nudity,
sexuality and course language, readers discretion is advised. lol. Sorry couldn't
help myself.
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and its magical universe do not belong to me, but to the author
JKR.
__________________________________________________________________
Out of Mind
Chapter 1
The High Road
__________________________________________________________________
Hermione flew down rue Lamennais, forgoing her taxi as she
hurriedly tipped the driver more than the ride itself. She was on a mission to
try and make a fashionable appearance to her dinner, though she was sure that
Orla Quirke and Stuart Ackerly were going to be less then pleased with having
to stall the French Ministry of Magic further. Hermione was three-quarters of
an hour late for her appearance, and the last thing she wanted to do was insult
the delegates. However, considering her day, Hermione was sure that Bernard
Morel could forgive her tardiness.
Stepping into
the welcome shelter of Taillevent, a wizarding restaurant (though also a muggle
one), unanimously decided upon by the French Ministry as the most opportune
place to have their celebratory meal before the pinnacle of Hermione’s career
was to be opened to the wizarding world. Hermione graciously relieved herself
of her coat, letting the host, Monsieur Durand, escort her to the expectant
table, anxious faces comforted to see her presence.
“Ah, Miss.
Granger, we were worried that perhaps your work may have taken you hostage.”
The jovial
banter of Bernard was all the reassurance Hermione needed that she was
forgiven, for now that was, as the aging man embraced her in a genuine hug.
Monsieur Morel was a man of great distinction in the shrouded realms of the
French political scene, having dedicated his entire life, and sacrificed his
personal happiness for his country and fellow wizard. It wasn’t often that one
met a man that still held his moral fiber after thirty years in the vicious
circle that made up the political landscape, and Hermione couldn’t help but
hold a great admiration for the man.
“You’re lucky
that the negotiations for my release went well with my work. After much debate
it finally decided to let me go.”
A small but
hearty laugh rang through the table as Hermione took her seat next to Morel and
her right-hand man, Stuart Ackerly. Ackerly was an ambitious fellow, three years
Hermione’s junior. He had attended Hogwarts as a Ravenclaw back in Hermione’s
youth. His sharp mind and even sharper wit made him the perfect liaison in
Hermione’s line of work. For Hermione had given up many opportunities in fields
that had interested her, but she had struck out on her own four years ago,
delving into a prospect that soon reassured her that this indeed was her true
calling.
After the
fall of Voldemort, something that had taken its toll on not only those that had
lived through the fight, but the wizarding community itself, Hermione saw that
a fatal flaw was about to envelope her adopted world once again. Wizards seemed
to possess the nasty habit of forgetting; almost hiding their shady past
instead of learning from it. It wasn’t until a proposition to ban dark arts
came from the British Ministry of Magic did Hermione find herself waking up to
what such a prospect would hold. Hermione knew that such a decision would never
curb another Voldemort from coming to power again. Contrary to belief at the
time, Hermione was resolute that it would only widen the chasm that continued
to grow between those of the old wizarding order, and those creating the new.
Soon enough, with adequate campaigning, Hermione made many members of her
government see that such an act would only help to bring a speedy return of yet
another misguided soul who could, once and for all, bring the fall of her
magical world.
Nevertheless,
even as a pioneer in the Ministry of Magic, Hermione never felt comfortable as
a political figure. She wasn’t one to take to the spotlight and she was more
than happy to shy away from the opportunity with a novel idea; which took more
than three years to achieve but Hermione had finally, and successfully,
accomplished her vision. She had become the forerunner in her field in
antiquity; curator to many of the prestigious magical museums and tonight
Hermione was going to celebrate her greatest achievement, a dark arts
exhibition.
Hermione had
never been a fan of the dark arts themselves, but through years of tyrants that
had tainted the art, she knew that the misconceptions of this facet of magic
were what had caused trouble in this world from the start. She was set to bring
the two worlds, that of light and dark back, together once again; as they were
in the beginning, as they should have remained from the start. However, the
only way to do this was through education. Informing the public of its roots to
show that even though those with less than noble convictions had abused dark
magic through the ages, it was still magic and should be embraced properly.
“Nonetheless,
all that matters now is that you are here to celebrate your achievement, and
for France to celebrate the fact it is the honored host to such a
ground-breaking event. May the ‘Journey of the Dark Arts’ exhibition be the
first step our world seeks to seal the divide that has broken us for all these
years.”
Everyone rose
their glasses to the toast of Arnuad Roux, French Minister of History, with
Hermione feeling a faint blush creep up on her cheeks as Ackerly patted her arm
for her much deserved accolade. However, even as the evening went on, the
nougatine glacée aux poires closing their absurd meal – though delectable,
Hermione couldn’t help but feel a sudden bout of trepidation. Still, these
weren’t the usual nerves that one associated with an opening of an exhibit. No,
Hermione’s anxiety was rooted in the vision that came her way, seated at the
bar.
_________
Draco took in a deep breathe of fresh air, something he hadn’t
done for nearly a year since his incarceration and continued to saunter down
Lamennais, which was quite posh with its restaurants and the patrons that
visited the district. Yet, Draco Malfoy was never one to be out done, and even
though a year of being confined to a cell had chiseled a certain distinction
into his face, it didn’t erode the aristocracy, the plain superiority he held
that not even the pure-bloods of this world could compete with.
Looking past
a pair of well bred though ill-mannered young ladies, Draco bit his cheek as he
saw the two young girls gawk, an act that should not have come from the ladies
of such status; though it did nothing but boost his reputable ego.
Quickly
forgetting the ‘scenery,’ Draco, in order to get to his apartment, continued
down his path toward the Paris 8th metro. He had decided to take a walk earlier
that day to recount his thoughts of what he was to do and quickly found himself
lost in the web that was his mind.
Draco had
been propositioned with an opportunity of a lifetime; however, it wasn’t as if
he had much of a choice in the matter. Even though the perks were tantalizing,
one being an earlier release from his former five year sentence, it was a
benefit that was unspoken and unknown to his contractors that had clinched the
deal for him. And as Draco continued his pace in his black slacks and white
oxford shirt, whose sleeves were rolled up to expose his well-defined forearms,
he soon found himself walking past Taillevent. It was a restaurant he had known
well in his younger years, which had always catered to both worlds, though the
muggles, as usual, were quite oblivious to his.
Taking a
quick glance at the familiar walls Draco smirked as he gave into impulse. It
was a day of many firsts for Draco, and he was sure not going to pass up an
opportunity to feel the pleasures of a stiff drink swirl in his mouth.
Walking into
the foyer, Malfoy was greeted by a familiar face, one that had not changed
through the years. And it seemed the face was more than pleasantly surprised to
see the return of a once generous patron.
“Mr. Malfoy,
what brings you back to Taillevent?”
It was a coy
comment, for Monsieur Durand was not daft. Malfoy’s incarceration had been
headline news around the world, though Malfoy was never one to shy away from
celebrity as he found there was no such thing as bad publicity.
“An early
release and the hospitality,” Draco retorted cheekily, flashing a smile to the
old man who gingerly shook his hand.
Durand only
nodded his head as he smirked, already looking through his book to see if any
tables were available, or could be made available, for his former soon to be
present, best customer.
“Your usual
table?” Durand inquired, ready to send one of the servers to oust a couple on
their honeymoon dinner to another table that was far less opulent; which was
the standard Draco Malfoy had reserved for his stays at the restaurant.
However,
before any of the arrangements could be made, Draco took Durand to the side.
Though Draco knew it was impossible for him not be recognized when he entered
the wizarding section of the restaurant, he didn’t want to make too many waves
the first day of his freedom.
There was
enough time to wreak havoc mulled Draco as he began to inform Durand of his
wishes.
“Let whatever
happy couple have their meal in peace. I’m not interested in eating tonight.
However, if you offer me a stool and the bar, I’ll make it worth your while
where a dinner never could.”
The meaning
wasn’t lost on the experienced maitre’ d as he only nodded his head, waving
over a server to make available Malfoy’s request.
“It should be
a few moments. Marcel will show you to the bar, one to your liking.”
And within
minutes, Marcel came to lead Draco into a room full of soon to be shocked
spectators.
It was clear
Draco was enjoying his newfound freedom immensely as he strode into the
familiar setting where he had wasted small fortunes entertaining guests, lovers
and himself. As Draco took his seat, Matthieu, the bartender, ready for his
arrival with a glass set before a stool, with a signature lone ice cube, the
still heir to the largest fortune of the entire wizarding world took his seat
graciously, tipping Marcel for his troubles.
Grabbing the
glass Draco cocked his head at his old drinking chum as Matthieu joined his
patron with a glass of his own. The distinct clink of glasses could be heard
throughout the room as Draco savored the sweat nectar that was the hell raiser
known as firewhiskey.
Licking his
lips with his moistened tongue, Draco half-heartedly listened to Matthieu who was
quite overjoyed of the prospects of Draco returning to take up his once envied
behaviour. Yet, it wasn’t the anecdote Matthieu was reciting that made Draco
smile, it was the woman from across the room who had yet to take notice of his
presence.
Hermione
Granger had not changed. She still remained the free spirit she had embodied
during her Hogwarts years.
During their
schooling Draco and Hermione had never quite learned to tolerate each other.
Truthfully, they never completely tolerated one another but that did not mean
that through the years, and countless run-ins, something boarding on the line
of insanity didn’t occur between the two.
They were
opposites on the scale of life, regardless where one looked in their lives and
Draco would be the first to admit that he was no hero unlike Hermione, whose
voluminous set of curls fell sensuously down her bare back, for Draco had made
his fair share of mistakes in his life. One in particular, which continued to
stare directly at him as he took his drink from the bar with his left hand.
Draco had
chosen the wrong side of the battle early in his life, but being the cunning
Slytherin he was, and not willing to butcher his future for the disillusioned
paranoia of a madman, Draco followed many of his former school chums over to
the ‘light side’ before it was too late. By the time Potter had finally brought
an end to the reign that was Voldemort; Draco had already made himself a
comfortable life on the other side. Still, that did not mean Draco ever
converted to the ridiculous moral guidelines that Granger and her posse
followed. He was after all a Malfoy, and nothing in the world could change who
he was: an opportunistic, narcissistic, ego manic.
Laughing,
Draco remembered what had drawn him to Granger in the first place. It wasn’t
her mind, or her looks, but something she tried to hide from everyone around
her.
It was her
nature.
It was wild
and untamed, and Draco had grown to love it. Something he had never thought
possible for the war may be over, but he was still prone to utter dubious
expressions to those of questionable backgrounds.
Yet, Draco no
longer saw a Mudblood as he stared past the thin periwinkle, silk fabric that
hugged Granger’s hips. No, it had gone past that in one eventful moment and as
the familiar golden, chocolate eyes looked into his silver gaze, he knew the
same moment had impacted Granger’s life as well.
Raising his
glass Draco winked, flashing Hermione a brilliant smile.
Draco knew
the effect it would have on her and soon pure, unadulterated rage followed.
Draco loved seeing Hermione like this for it reminded him of times where the
rage was quite a welcome bed fellow
_______
The fact
Hermione had turned quite livid, made her fellow colleagues take note of the
man that seemed to enrapture the young witch. Soon, it was all too clear to
everyone that it wasn’t shock that was pronounced over Hermione’s face, but
horror.
“Is that who
I think it is?”
Broke the
steady voice of Orla, who starred wide-eyed as she tried to hide the shock of
Malfoy’s blatant flirting.
Setting her
jaw Hermione didn’t even excuse herself as she got up from her seat, throwing
the napkin from her lap to her empty plate and quickly took care of the
distance between the smug Malfoy and herself.
“How the
hell…” Hermione only managed those three words before Malfoy fished a Ministry
letter from his pocket and handed over to a seething Granger. Malfoy hadn’t
expected to run into Granger, however, the note was his get out of jail free
card. If any Aurors patrolling the streets of Paris would have come across him,
and the night was still young, he knew he wouldn’t be let off the hook without
this brilliant piece of paper stuffed into a quaint envelope.
“Nice to see
you too,” replied Draco dryly, as he emptied the contents of his glass, quickly
tapping the table for a quick refill.
“What is
this?” Hermione questioned, not wanting to believe what was in her hand, the
insignia of the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic radiating off the parchment.
Draco only
shrugged his shoulder, finding a great deal of satisfaction garnered from
frazzling Granger just by his mere presence.
“Actually, I
wasn’t supposed to give you that until tomorrow. But, as you know all too well,
I’m not one to follow orders.”
The comment
infuriated Hermione as she tore through the envelope soon having all the colour
drain out of her as she felt the room start to spin from under her feet. Her
reaction to the note was not lost on Malfoy as he got to his feet in case
Granger was to faint; or more likely launch an attack on him.
“Who in their
right mind would do such a thing?” hissed Hermione, not giving a damn about the
proper etiquette in an establishment such as Taillevent.
Draco weighed
all the possible answers before giving his reply, taking a testing step before
his luscious lipped opponent.
“Someone who
feels they can’t trust something that hasn’t been proven before.”
Throwing the
note back in his face, Granger was beginning to tire Draco with her behaviour.
She certainly had a reason to be upset, but Draco had a greater cause to be
offended considering it was Hermione who had made sure that he had been locked
up in the first place.
“So they get
a thief to protect their valuable assets?”
The question
rung through the air, the infliction of ‘thief’ coated with extra venom as to
try and put Malfoy in his place. However, Hermione quickly realized that this
was indeed Malfoy who she was now dealing with, and unfortunately, it meant
playing against someone who never played by the rules but loved to make them up
as he went along.
“Who else
would be better qualified? I was, after all, the only one to successfully foil
your previous exhibits. And Granger, they aren’t the only ones who think I’m
the best person for the job.” Taking a sip of his drink, Draco paid his bill
with a handsome tip for both Matthieu and Durand. “Your fellow French men
behind you also hired me to take care of some extra details.”
With that
Draco only bowed his head as he took his absence from Hermione’s presence, for
Draco knew there were going to be plenty of times in this very interesting and
promising future to get Hermione were he wanted her, and this time, Draco
wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.
Watching
Malfoy leave, sauntering out like the asshole he was and always had been,
Hermione turned to face her former jovial crowd. Who now looked as if they
would rather be anywhere but in the path of her wrath. However, instead of
yelling, screaming maybe even a little bit of kicking, Hermione strolled over
to her seat, grabbing her purse and with a dignified tone took her leave of her
company, forcing her two associates to stay.
“You will all
understand why I’ll take my leave now.” Holding up her hand, Hermione had the
audacity to silence Morel, a Minister of Magic, and get away with it, “I’ll be
in at work tomorrow morning when we begin to set up for next week’s exhibit,
but for now, I’d rather be alone.”
And with
that, Hermione left her company and walked out of the blasted restaurant.
Hermione knew that she wasn’t going to get much done by questioning her superiors’
motives. However, she did know that she was going to have to prepare for Malfoy
because she had learned a lesson from the man many times before: If you don’t
prepare for what Draco Malfoy brought with him, you were as good as dead.
_________
Thank you to my beta, Arlene, for getting through this story as
quickly as you did:) It is greatly appreciated.
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