Temptation
Pour Deux
by
Annie
Adrienne
Chapter
11
The
Tower Room
“Now,
dear, I believe the boys have some catching up to do,” Narcissa looked
over to Lucius and Draco, who were
already
deep in conversation, “so I’ll show you your room. I think you’ll like
it- it’s where I stayed, when I first came
to
visit.”
Hermione
nodded, with what she supposed was a sweet smile, levitating her bags and
following Narcissa up a large,
gray
stone staircase. Maxwell, she noted, had not been allowed past the door.
Strange… didn’t they have servants
in
the house?
“Now
tell me about Durmstrang, dear.” Narcissa said cheerily, guiding Hermione
down what seemed like an infinite
amount
of forest green hallways. One could get lost in a second in this house…
she’d have to get Draco to take her
everywhere!
“Well,
the school itself is beautiful- a castle, and a real castle, not like that
Hogwarts.” She said airily, ignoring the
tinge
of guilt she felt at insulting her home. Narcissa laughed.
“Yes,
Hogwarts does have a rather - rustic- type of charm. Do they teach you
well there?”
“Oh,
of course.” She said, with a superior smirk that was quite easy to fake.
Fleur Delacour had mastered it. “You
can
imagine how shocked I was when Draco told me they only teach Defense
against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.
Why,
Dark Arts and Potions is my favorite class! I’ve the highest marks in the
school.” She bragged on, rattling off
the
things Viktor had told her about the school, dormitories, and classes…
slightly altered for her, of course. She
knew
their- relationship- would be good for something.
“Dear
me, it sounds delightful.” Narcissa said when she’d finished, heaving a
melancholy sigh. “Makes me almost
wish
I’d sent Draco there- of course, it’s too late for him to switch now. But
I’m glad he’s met you- I’m sure you’ll
be
a wonderful influence.” Changing moods quickly, she flashed Hermione a
smile full of dazzling white teeth, as they
stopped
in front of a door. Now she knew where Draco had gotten it.
“And
here we are.” She announced, pushing open a small, rounded stone door with
flourish. She seemed to take the
job
of hostess very seriously- though, of course she would. It was her only
job.
The
room was larger than any bedroom Hermione had ever seen, a bit bigger than
the dormitory she’d been sleeping
in
only last night. The one she shared with four other girls. It was circular
and stonewalled, and looking out the window
she
realized she was at the top of one of the soaring white towers. The floor
was covered in soft-looking bleached
white
sheepskin rugs, and there was a small lit fireplace carved into one of
the walls, next to a stack of fragrant wood
in
a small wicker basket. There was a small oblong-shaped door next to it,
which she assumed led to a bathroom.
Directly
across from the fireplace was the bed, a gauze silver canopy draped over
the top. The entire room was done
in
gray and silver, right down to the inlay on the ivory bedposts. Including
the giant wardrobe next to the bed, which
seemed
to gleam silver. There was a full-length mirror between the wardrobe and
the fireplace, propped up against the
wall.
The silver it was set in gleamed, as if it had just been polished, and
there were jewels, what looked like emeralds,
pressed
into the silver around the top. Something was written there, as well, in
Latin- she’d translate it later. After a
moment
spent in stunned silence, she allowed herself to breathe.
“It’s
lovely.”
She whispered, barely able to believe her eyes. Narcissa smiled down at
her, relieved. Astonished,
Hermione
realized she’d been waiting to see if she was used to better. She couldn’t
even imagine better at the
moment.
“I’m
so glad you like it, dear Hermia. Now I’m sure you’ve packed plenty of
clothes, but I’ve taken the liberty of
putting
some of my old things in the closet- in case you want to please an old
married maid.” She chuckled, with a
sad
twinkle in her eyes. For the first time, Hermione felt a twinge of pity
for Narcissa Malfoy- she must be the only
woman
to live in this manor for years. It must get awfully lonely.
“You’re
too kind to me, Madam.” She said, curtsying again. Narcissa laughed.
“Oh
do call me Narcissa, dear- or at least when the boys aren’t around. I know
you want to make a good impression
on
Lucius- God knows it was difficult enough to bring old Marcus Malfoy around
to liking me- I wasn’t born into this
family,
you know.” She nervously looked behind her, worried she’d said too much.
But Hermione smiled, trying to put
her
at ease.
“Thank
you… Narcissa.”
*****
Hermione
yawned, and fell back onto the silver featherbed, delighting in the ‘whoosh’
of the silk and down. After
exploring
all of Narcissa’s old, but beautiful dresses, and cautiously lighting the
fireplace, she’d finally decided a
good
nap was in order. She wasn’t quite sure how dinner went at Malfoy Manor-
somehow she imagined it was
a
stiff, formal affair, full of forced conversations and long, stifling silences.
That, of course, was before she had met
Mrs.
Malfoy, who, after some reflection, she’d decided was quite a pleasant
woman, if chatty.
She
glanced over out the window, still taken aback at the sight of the grounds.
Or what grounds she could see. There
were
no boundaries, as much as she could tell… and for all she knew, the Malfoys
property could extend beyond the
mist-shrouded
mountains that she could barely make out. Her window looked directly out
on a small grove, filled with
what
looked like fruit trees. Perhaps a small apple orchard? She wondered which
woman would have thought to
plant
it- such a humble, yet beautiful thing among so much grandeur. She supposed,
as it was for Narcissa, it must
have
always been slightly depressing for women to live in the house. Though
she’d never met a woman who wasn’t
a
Malfoy through marriage, yet- perhaps, and it was a frightening thought,
the women were as cold as the men.
Her
eyes drifted lazily about the room, settling on the eccentric mirror. They
flitted over the inscription, and she
sighed,
trying to make out the engravement at a distance. Suddenly, it came to
her, and she sat up straight.
May
my daughter live in peace. And may her daughters after her.
She
shivered, and leapt to her feet, flying to the window. Tottering over the
balcony, she stared down at the apple
trees.
They were in the shape of an M. She looked straight down the edge of the
house- the wall around the window
was
smooth, for yards around. There was nothing to climb on to, and nothing
to jump down on.
The
door was stone. The walls were stone. With a sinking feeling, she pressed
her palm against it- lodestone. No
magic
could be used inside this room, the power of the stone would absorb it
immediately.
It
had been a prison.
As
if a rescue from the whirlwind of her frantic thoughts, a knock came at
the door, and Hermione shook her head.
She
quickly fixed her hair- Hermia LeFay would never allow herself to be seen
in such a state of disarray.
“Come
in.” she called. Her now lovely face broke out into a very uncharacteristic
grin at seeing Draco, the usual smug
smile
on his face, and she stood and walked to him. He reached out and pulled
her closer for a hard kiss, leaving her
gasping
for breath, and quickly continued past her to the open wardrobe, eyeing
the dresses inside.
“My
mothers.” he acknowledged quietly. She nodded, joining him in front of
the ornately carved maple relic.
“Yes,
she told me she’d like it if I wore them-” He laughed at that, and turned
to face her, eyes sparkling. She raised
an
eyebrow. “What?”
“You’re
the first one of them she’s allowed to sleep here. And wear her clothes-
seem she’s taken to you, and in such
a
short amount of time! But mother always was attracted to beauty…” he trailed
off, earnestly looking into her eyes.
“You
know, I’ll never be able to see you with that face, Hermione.”
She
frowned. He shouldn’t be calling her Hermione in the house, should he?
Wasn’t he the first to tell her that she
would
be Hermia alone for three months? Perhaps his parents had ways to listen
in, paintings or mirrors- but no, she
was
being paranoid. Draco knew this house better than anyone. But what did
he mean, her?
“Me
how?”
“You’re
just… different. And I’m not sure if I enjoy it.” He sighed, and ran a
hand through his soft blonde hair, sitting
down
on her bed. She sat next to him.
“Enjoy
it? Draco, I did this all- these looks, in part for you. I could have made
myself look like Pansy Parkinson, and
I’m
sure your mother would have been just as pleased. Your father even more.”
He
grimaced, affirming that she had been entirely correct.
“I
just miss seeing your face, Hermione. It’s the same smile, the same glare-
just trapped, in a body I can’t recognize.”
He
cupped her face in his hands, suddenly grave. “Promise me you won’t change,
Hermione Granger. Change your
mind,
but do not change.”
She
searched his eyes for any hint of emotion- and found none. Her only clue
was the frantic, troubled tone in his voice.
What
did he mean, change? Was she acting any different? Oh, of course she was…
but she was simply playing a part.
Just
acting, so his parents wouldn’t suspect. She needn’t stay cold around him
did she? Or is that what he wanted? Is
he
why she was doing this in the first place?
She
swallowed, and nodded.
“I
can stay the same, Draco. This face- it means nothing. It’s just a ruse
to fool your parents. I’m still the same woman
inside.”
“Girl.”
He smirked, leaned forward, and roughly captured her mouth in his. Captured
was the only way to describe it-
he
was in control, yes, but she was still there, and still fighting him. After
a few blissful moments they pulled away, faces
flushed.
“You
still kiss the same.” He said smugly, seeming satisfied at last. She rolled
her eyes as he stood, and walked
towards
the door.
“Wear
one of my mother’s dresses tonight- we’re having the Parkinsons, Crabbes,
Goyles, and Bullstrodes for dinner.
Dinner
parties here are always a fancy affair, and you’ll be expected to make
an impression, without your parents.”
He
called over his shoulder, halfway out the door. She jumped to her feet,
stopping in front of him and blocking his
way
out.
“Draco!
You can’t do this to me-”
“You’ll
be fine, Hermia.” He said, eyeing one of the paintings on the wall. She
followed his eyes, and nodded slowly.
“I’m
sure my parents friends will take to your quite well, they know your uncle.”
“If
they serve Lord Voldemort, Draco, I’m sure we’ll get along quite famously
without Uncle Sev’s help.” She said
airily,
looking down her nose at him. His smile for her was less genuine, which
brought her no small amount of comfort.
“I’ll
see you in a few hours.”
He
leaned down and pressed his frozen lips against hers. They both pulled
away quickly, and she returned to the
lonely
little room- prison.
And
now, for a super-long author’s note…
About
the eyes, I know they've been mentioned as gray, but I've never actually
seen anyone with *truly* gray eyes,
they've
always been some strange form of blue. So I write his eyes as blue, suppose
it's a quirk. Plus, I believe his
mother
has blue eyes. ^.^
And
yes, I blatantly stole the bedroom in this chapter from ‘The Little White
Horse’, one of my favorite books. I’ve
been
in love with that room ever since I was a child, and it seemed to fit.
On
Hermione looking like Ginny, I'm not quite sure where that came from...
I suppose I just see them that way in my
mind's
eye. Since Hermione's got a rather auburn shade of brown hair, and I can
see the two running around together
all
the same. Sorry for any confusion that caused, I’ll most likely take that
out when I edit.
I'd
like to take a minute to thank a couple consistant reviewers... JudgeDP,
blood thirsty, RedhotNYchick, icestar,
Venus
DeMilo, Trinity Day, krissy, josh, Lucius, Ankle, Epequa, and amanda. Also
a huge thank you goes out to
everyone
who's reviewed so far- if you think I write slow, you should see me when
I don't get reviews!
I’m
so terribly sorry for the lateness of this part. I’m on the varsity ski
team now, and I have a five hour practice
every
day, so I barely have time to do my homework, never mind write. I know
that’s not an excuse to leave you
guys
hanging, so please, accept my apologies.
Lastly…
review!
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