Perished Dreams

Perished Dreams - Chapter Two

Of Snogs, Feather Boas and Millicent Bulstrode

Chapter Two: Of Snogs, Feather Boas and Millicent Bulstrode

"Whe...where are you taking me?" The fear made Hermione's voice sound shrill.

"Home," Draco said curtly.

"You mean, you're letting me go?" She barely dared to believe it.

"My home," he clarified without looking at her.

"What?"

"And you were supposed to be the smartest witch of our year?"

"Time, actually."

"You know, home, that nice place where you live, sleep, bathe, grow up and stuff."

"I'm sorry. I guess I've just always imagined you crawling forth from below a slimy rock."

"Careful, Granger, careful. There might come a time when I do not find your impertinence amusing anymore."

"Which will be such a let-down since my major goal in life is to make you happy."

Draco gave her a look that once had made a manticore back away. Hermione remained unmoved. Picking up the original thread of conversation, she said, "Home to you? Why in the name of God are you bringing me there?"

However, before he could respond, they were interrupted by an elderly man who came rushing towards them.

"Master Malfoy," he said, bowing. Unknowingly he addressed Draco in just the same manner Hermione had earlier, but his voice was completely devoid of sarcasm.

Hermione was struck by two things simultaneously. First that there was something vaguely familiar about him. He reminded her of a stringy Slytherin boy she had known at Hogwarts. The name fought free from her sea of memories; Nott. The other thing that shocked her was his overly respectful behaviour, and the near reverence with which he considered Malfoy.

Unfortunately, it appeared as if Nott had overheard the last part of their conversation, and now he looked questioningly at Draco and said, "If you don't mind me asking, why are you bringing her to the Manor?"

Hermione had a very distinct feeling that he did indeed mind, but instead of letting Nott know, he gave her an estimating look which she did not like at all, and said with the sneer she remembered so well, "Can't you imagine?"

"Ah." Nott smirked understandingly and added, "For being really nothing but a filthy Muggle, she is indeed quite pretty... And it has always been my firm belief that every wizard should have his own Mudblood pet..."

It didn't even take a second for Hermione to work out the meaning of this conversation. She stood frozen, too appalled to speak or even move. This was of great relief to Draco, who of some reason found that he wouldn't fancy giving her the lesson in obedience Nott would have expected if she had uttered an objection.

Hermione hardly even heard Nott saying that he wouldn't mind borrowing her for a little while. Draco refused icily, and he subsequently commented that he did not usually share his mistresses with anyone.

The truth was that he had hardly cared about what his previous girlfriends had spent their time with when they were not with him. Although he didn't really have the habit of lending them away, either. Now he found himself wondering why he reacted so strongly merely from the thought of Granger with another man. Strangely enough he found both the thought of one causing her pain because she was not willing, which probably would have been the case with Nott, and one causing her joy just as disturbing.

Nott, obviously frightened of having insulted the Malfoy family pride, apologised hurriedly. Not feeling a particular desire to stay and chat anymore the Death Eater practically fled, leaving them with the jovial advice that there was nothing like a good beating to keep a woman anxious to please.

It was as if seeing that horrid man go somehow awoke Hermione from the state of shock she had sunk into. She made a wild, desperate try to get free from Draco and hopefully escape. Unfortunately he was prepared and pinned her against the wall holding her wrists locked in one hand above her head.

"Now, Granger? No smart comments? No little jokes?"

"Filth," was the only word she managed to press forth. Both because she had trouble breathing and because she was afraid beyond anything she had ever been before.

"Don't touch me, Malfoy. Your touch disgusts me. I would rather die than bed you. Merely being near you makes me feel nauseous..."

Too late she realised the mistake she had made. Even if she hadn't been the cleverest witch of her time, some other instinct, purely female, would have shrieked out in alarm, sensing the danger emanating from him as he bent his head down and whispered, his lips mere inches from hers, "Nauseous? Now let's see about that, Granger..."

For a second it flickered through her brain that he was the first man to kiss her ever to call her "Granger". Then their lips connected and she thought no more. The kiss was intended as a punishment, but didn't feel like one. His mouth teased hers affectionately, and by this display of kindness he won a victory over her no means of violence ever could have. She fought against the effect it had on her, but could not help but respond in a nearly bruising surge of passion.

She loved the sensations that flooded through her body, but would have given anything to make them go away. She felt treacherous, knowing that she ought to hate this man, and indeed she did, she told herself sternly. This was just a pure chemical reaction that had nothing to do with her feelings.

It wasn't until her chest hurt from lack of oxygen that he released her from the crushing embrace.

Hermione struggled desperately to catch her breath, while Draco triumphantly started saying, "Disgusts you, does it?" but instead he stopped and looked startled at her.

To her horror she realised that she had started crying. All her experience with Dark Arts people - and since they were living in a world where Lord Voldemort was sole ruler, that had been considerable - had taught her that they despised weakness.

"Hermione?" he said uncertainly and let her go. She sunk down to the floor, hugging her knees against her chest. Bending forward, she hoped that her long hair would hide the tears of confusion, exhaustion and guilt which trickled down her face. Vaguely she noticed that this was actually the first time he had ever called her by her first name.

"Don't cry." He was unsure how to deal with this situation, which was clearly expressed in both his voice and in the somewhat clumsy manner he shoved a handkerchief into her hand.

"I'm not crying." She received the handkerchief with what would have been gratitude if it had not been him.

"Of course not. Tears are just streaming out of your eyes, your nose is red and your face is all swollen, but of course you're not crying. Silly me."

Unfortunately this only made her cry worse. The only thing he thought he managed to get out of what she said next was, "My nose is not red," but that might just as well have been something entirely else altogether. He shifted his feet uncomfortably while staring down at her and decided to say something to ease the situation.

"I never thought I was that bad of a kisser, you know."

He heard something that might have been a muffled giggle. Encouraged by this success, he kneeled next to her.

"You're not. I mean...That isn't why..." She lifted her gaze and looked for him a short moment before quickly lowering it again. All the while he stared fascinated at her, noticing that her cheeks had gone a lovely shade of pink.

"Then why are you crying?"

"Oh, just being kidnapped, locked up and told that you are going to be your worst enemy's love slave, I guess. I'm funny that way."

Hurt by the fact that she considered him to be her worst enemy, Draco nevertheless opened his mouth to say that that wasn't what he had intended at all. Then he closed it again. It had a sort of nice ring to it; love slave.

While Draco was lost in his - undoubtedly dirty - thoughts, Hermione wiped away some more tears with the handkerchief and at the same time examined it more closely. It was beautifully embroidered, the Malfoy "M" standing neatly in a corner. She scowled at the sight of the silver snake that intertwined the green M. Four years had not done much to relieve the loathing she felt for Slytherin and everything connected to that (here she thought something that I cannot type if this story is to remain at Fiction Alley-accepted level) house.

Under the initial there was something that she assumed must be the family crest, something that looked like a... person? being slowly crushed to death, by oh, surprise, surprise, Hermione thought uncharitably, yet another snake. The emblem was surrounded by the words: A hungry snake is nobody's friend. Charming, she thought to herself, really charming. Briefly she wondered what story lay behind it, but came to the conclusion that she really did not want to know.

Unfortunately Draco chose this moment to wake up from his fantasies (Hermione had just kneeled by his side dressed in a feather boa, just a feather boa, and was bending over him in order to offer him a glazed fig with her lips) and decided that it was time to leave this hellhole. Optionally for some place with glazed figs. Then he noticed what she was looking at.

"The pet of one of my ancestors. One day he was locked - by mistake, obviously - in with a prisoner in the Malfoy family oubliette. The Muggle it is assumed was grateful for the company and brotherly shared the food he had on him when he was captured. Then he ran out of provisions, and the snake ate him." Draco smiled fondly. "Father used to tell me that story when I was a little kid, and I would laugh and laugh."

Hermione stared at him. "Bedtime stories with the morale being, "Cruelty is the way to go." The lack of healthiness in your upbringing is shocking...ly unsurprising."

"The motto is actually not so much the morale of the story as an inside joke resulting from a lewd conversation afterwards between said ancestor and his wife," said Draco. "Later it got upgraded to an unofficial family motto. I guess someone must have embroidered this on the handkerchief instead of the actual one for laughs. You know, Granger, you people always criticise Slytherins for being cold, but as you can see, we do have our Moments. You may get to witness one at the manor."

"And I guess this answers the rhetorical question: "Could this get any worse?""

Draco smiled benevolently. "Maybe even partake in one."

"I was wrong."

Draco got to his feet, brushing his robes.

"Come on, Granger, it's time to go."

So I'm "Granger," now, am I, she thought to herself before answering, "No."

"What?"

"You heard me, Malfoy. I said no, and I mean it. I am not going to come with you. You're just going to find someone else to...er...submit herself to your urges."

"Submit herself to my urges?"

"Well, that's what my grandmother used to call it," she said, flushing, but lifting her chin defensively all the same.

"With that attitude I'm surprised you're here, Granger. I can't think about any less arousing than a woman who is submitting herself to my urges. Well, perhaps Millicent Bulstrode."

Hermione looked as if she were trying very hard not to think about any sex that involved either her grandparents or Millicent Bulstrode.

"Well, in that case you won't find me very attractive, now will you?"

"First of all, if we ever were to submit ourselves to any urges, I can assure you that that would be the last phrase to come to your mind."

Hermione opened her mouth to object, but remembered what had happened the last time she had insulted his masculinity, and hurriedly closed it again. Furious with herself for the immediate rush of warmth that went through her body at the thought of it, she scowled.

Oblivious to her inner struggle, Draco continued, "Secondly, in spite of you seem to think, I do not find you so irresistible that I would actually consider forcing an unwilling woman into my bed. There are too many willing" (Hermione narrowed her eyes, furious with herself for the sting that went through her by the thought of him with another). "Besides, my father would kill me if he thought I was involved with a Muggleborn."

"Now why do I get the feeling that that isn't just a manner of speaking?"

Draco, however, ignored her and continued, "The reason I am bringing you to the Manor, is a flaw in my character that I can assure I will do anything to stamp out: nobility. Of what I have seen of your behaviour today, you are a walking danger to yourself. I intend to keep an eye on you until I am certain that you can be in civilised company without provoking anyone of them to kill you." He smiled angelically at her, and said, "Shall we go?"

The good thing about this speech was that it completely erased any want she might have had to kiss him again. The urge she felt now went more along the lines of giving him a good kick in the...

It was fortunate for Draco that she was so angry that she could only utter a few hissing noises, otherwise he would have been given the scolding of his life. Hermione had to settle for giving him a murderous glare as she swept past him on her way out of the dungeons. Even Malfoy Manor had to be better than this place.

"The exit," he called out merrily to her, "is the other way."

Hermione revealed her impressive vocabulary of swear words.