Temptation Pour Deux

by Annie Adrienne
 
 

Chapter 12
Another Reason
 

“Pansy! My, you look lovely tonight, as always. And- my, do you have another sister I didn’t know about, or is that

you, Mrs. Parkinson?” Draco bowed, flashing his most charming smile, and Mrs. Parkinson, a plump, flighty-looking
blonde woman with piercing hazel eyes, shrieked in delight.

“Oh, Draco! You’ve grown so much! I remember when you were just a boy-” she wiped an obviously forced tear

from her left eye, careful not to smear her makeup. “Now I hear from Pansy you’ve gotten a girlfriend?”

“Yes, she ought to be down in a moment- a little tired from her trip. You understand, of course- she doesn’t mean to

be rude.”

“Don’t be silly, dear, of course not!” Mrs. Parkinson assured him, turning to her daughter. “Why don’t you go upstairs

and see if she needs any help, Pansy?”

The striking and, up until now, silent teenager gritted her teeth, but smiled brightly at her mother.

“Of course, mother! What a wonderful idea. We’ll be down in a moment, Draco.”

She walked gracefully over to the stairs, though Draco could see and feel the tension in her shoulders. He had

known- and been nearly betrothed- to Pansy far too long. He suspected, if Mrs. Parkinson had anything to say about
it, ‘Hermia’ would have been taken care of. But his father was, if one thing, stubborn, and wouldn’t be bossed around
by any woman, even such a powerful widow as Petra Parkinson.

Thank God.

“Now Draco, my dear,” Petra began, moving closer to him as soon as Pansy was out of sight. He wrinkled his nose,

overcome by the acrid scent of her perfume… it seemed like she was wearing gallons of it. “This Hermia girl… can
she be trusted?”

“Completely, Mrs. Parkinson.” He replied, unable to keep the ice out of his tone. She smiled, though it didn’t reach

her eyes.

“Wonderful. And what, if you don’t mind me asking, does she have that Pansy doesn’t? You know your father would

be most pleased if you two were to- come to some sort of agreement.” Some woman’s voices would have been angry,
or disappointed- but Petra Parkinson’s was not. She didn’t care about Pansy- only about what a marriage of hers
could bring the Parkinson family name. She was merely curious about this, it seemed. He breathed.

“I love her.” He said, the affirmation sliding easily off his tongue. “This is not some- agreement- we’ve made. I love her

with all of my soul.”

He wasn’t sure if he was lying.
 

*****

Hermione yawned, sitting up in the strange bed and blinking rapidly, her eyes quickly adjusting to the rays of pink

sunset streaming through her window. Muttering, she rolled out of bed, pulling the silver curtains shut over the window.

She sat down on the bed, allowing the afternoon’s strange realization to flood back into her head. But what did it

mean? She was not a prisoner- the door was open, after all. But why put her in this room? Was it possible that
Narcissa didn’t know? Even Lucius, or Draco? But this was their house- wouldn’t they know everything about it?

Her heart sank, as she remembered that Draco had voiced his concerns about the mysteries of Malfoy Manor many

times to her over the course of the last week. Now, she felt like she’d known him forever- like she knew him better
than he knew himself. Which wasn’t difficult. Draco hadn’t a clue about his family history, beyond the famous bloody
war generals his father had lectured him about. He hadn’t even known how long the manor had been in the family-
she’d always just assumed that the Malfoys had always lived in this house. But what if they hadn’t built it? What if the
house held secrets that no Malfoy had ever understood?

She couldn’t trust Narcissa with her concerns… and what good would it do? Narcissa’s head, if well meaning, was

far away and gone in the clouds, probably a reason that Lucius had seen fit to marry her. She wouldn’t meddle in the
affairs of her husband- she had plenty of airs of her own to put on, outfits to choose and makeup to charm, after all.
She needed to speak with Draco- or someone, anyone she could come to trust, that wasn’t a Malfoy. Someone that
could speak to her… objectively.

Her musings were interrupted by a loud, quick rapping at the door. She sprung to her feet, smoothing out the wrinkles

in her dress. It must be Draco- or Narcissa. Shouldn’t the party be starting sometime soon? She turned the silver lock
and opened the door, almost instinctively setting her face in a scowl, but managing to maintain her usual pleasantly
intelligent smirk.

“Hello.” The familiar blonde girl at the door said, sounding quite bored. “I’m Pansy Parkinson. You must be Hermia

LeFay.”

 

*****

“So there’s no suitable boys at Durmstrang, then? What about that Quidditch player, Viktor Krum? Granted, he’s

rather scruffy, but I’m sure a girl with proper breeding like you could fix him up soon enough-” Pansy chattered on
affably, as she’d been doing for the past ten minutes. She’d seemed so relieved for someone to talk to that Hermione
couldn’t stand interrupting her.

“Viktor’s sweet, but he seemed quite taken with some half-blood girl from Hogwarts. Helen, or something…?”

Hermione replied cautiously, careful to keep her expression casual. It was so strange to talk about herself in the third
person- and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what Pansy was going to say about her.

“Oh, Hermione Granger.” Pansy affirmed, heaving a sigh and pulling the corset she’d forced upon Hermione tighter.

The younger girl gasped, but tried very hard to keep a straight face. Hermia LeFay would be quite used to wearing
corsets- Snape had even made her pack a few. “She’s got potential, I suppose, if it weren’t for those buck teeth and
freckles- and she is smart, or book smart at least… but all those bloody Gryffindors are the same. Too high and
mighty with their morals and their bravery to walk down in the muck among us normal people. Dolts haven’t the
slightest ideas the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs hate them as much as we do- and who wouldn’t? Carrying themselves
around like kings- and oh, of course, precious little Harry Potter. Granger follows him around, you know- figures.
And that Weasley- oh, what’s his name, Rob or something. Only logical the special ones would stick together.”

“What’s so special about this Weasley?” Hermione asked, feeling a rush of protectiveness for her friend. Pansy shook

her head.

“You’re lucky you’ve never met a Weasley, Hermia- they’re just awful! A pureblood wizarding family- one of the

most pure- consorting with mudbloods, and studying them, no less! The father, Arthur, is a muggle maniac. They’re
dirt poor, too, most likely because of his little obsession.”

“That’s unfair!” shouted Hermione, her eyes widening once she’d realized what she’d said. So far, only to blow her

chance now-

“I know!” Pansy said, nodding her head furiously. “Poor little Jenny, the only daughter, couldn’t even afford dress

robes for the Yule Ball. A pureblood family! It’s disgusting, really. You’re lucky you live among proper people.”

Giving one last strong tug on the corset (perhaps a little too strongly), Pansy fell back onto the bed, and Hermione

couldn’t help but laugh. Much to her dismay, Pansy laughed too, a high, sweet giggle.

“Oh, dear- I got a little carried away, I suppose. It’s not like you need a corset Hermia, like I do- my mum’s always

telling me to lose weight.”

“You’re not fat, Pansy.” Hermione assured her, pulling a royal blue silk halter dress on over her head. She’d planned

on wearing the most conservative dress in Narcissa’s closet- a silvery gray one, in the back- but all thoughts of looking
‘nice’ had gone out the window once she’d seen what Pansy was wearing.

Outfits spoke of power, Pansy had told her, and she needed to look secure enough to stand next to Draco, which

took a bit of doing. Surprisingly enough, Pansy didn’t seem bitter at all about ‘Hermia’ dating the Malfoy heir- quite
the contrary, in fact. She seemed almost relieved, assuring her ‘I’m not sure what you see in him, Hermia, but I
suppose it’s much the same thing I did. And if you see what I see, dear, then you two should work out. I’ve always
had a bit of a crush on Alec Zambini, anyhow.’

Pansy stood, smoothing out the wrinkles in her wine-colored dress, and running a hand through her hair. She sighed,

stepping in front of the jewel-encrusted mirror.

“I’ve never been good at volumizing charms- bane of my mother’s existence. She refuses to do them for me… says

I should suffer through being ugly if I’m too stupid to work out a simple cosmetic charm.” She sighed, frowning at
herself in the mirror. Hermione couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity for the girl- imagine what it must feel like to be
told you were ugly all your life, even looking like her?

She stepped behind Pansy in the mirror, drawing her wand and whispering a few words under her breath. The older

girl’s blonde tresses glowed for a moment, and then faded, not stringy and stiff for the first time Hermione could
remember. Pansy grinned.

“Oh, you’re a love, aren’t you! It’ll be wonderful having you around.” Shocking Hermione nearly out of her skin,

Pansy turned around and hugged her, laughing. She couldn’t help but smile too.

“Now let’s get out of here, shall we? We’ve got a party to go to!”
 

 
 


Be a good reader and review! It’d be awesome if I could reach 100 before chapter 13!

A/N: Just to clarify a tiny bit (though it’s mentioned in the fic), Hermione isn’t being held prisoner in any way. She’s

just realized that the room she’s been put in was once a prison, most likely for a woman.

Again, sorry this took forever to get out, just life is one thing after another, plus now my computer is acting up. Grr!

EvilGeniusSmurf: Thanks for the suggestions- but, to counter-point, as much as Death Eaters are tight-knight, they’re

not exactly the friendly types, are they? Certainly not Snape, who I can’t imagine hob-knobbing at dinner parties.
Never mind any of the other Death Eaters  worrying about some distant niece of his. Also, Lucius and Narcissa aren’t
suspicious- yet- so they’d have no reason to ask after Hermia. Plus, I’ve always imagined Durmstrang as larger than
Hogwarts- they can’t know of every student there. I see your point, but even your suggestion of her background
could be ripped apart. Thanks for the review, though!

Thanks everyone else who reviewed!

 


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