Temptation
Pour Deux
by
Annie
Adrienne
Chapter
13
The
Calm, and Then the Storm
“Draco,
old chap!” came a cheerful voice from behind the seventh year, the murmur
of the crowd rising slightly in
volume
as a new family arrived at the party. Draco turned around, to be clapped
into an affectionate hug by Alec
Zambini,
a tall, good-looking, light brown haired Quidditch player, who’d been captain
of the Slytherin team before
Marcus
Flint. Alec had always been a good friend of his- rather like a slightly
older brother, as Fred and George
Weasley
were to Ron. Thankfully, he didn’t have their foolish and completely inappropriate
sense of humor… but
he
was good-natured, or at least most of the time. And around girls, who he’d
always been especially fond of.
“Hello,
Alec.” He said, trying not to let the obvious relief at the boy’s appearance
in his voice shine through. Mrs.
Parkinson
had just gone off to get another drink, muttering about the lack of available
servants, and with Alec here,
she
wouldn’t have the courage to bother him again. The Zambinis were a very
powerful family of dark wizards,
more
powerful than the Parkinsons, and they did not have the favorable ties
that the Parkinsons and Malfoys did.
Moreover,
Alec was the oldest and most favored child in the Zambini family, closely
followed by his younger sister,
Blaise.
Petra would not dare patronize him the way she did Draco.
“How’s
old Hogwarts?” Alec asked, an amused smile crossing his handsome features.
“I hear you’ve found a way
to
get around the disappointing lack of pureblood girls over there. To be
honest, I thought you’d snap Pansy up, but
I’m
rather glad you didn’t, if you catch my drift.” He said, winking at the
younger boy and grabbing a martini from a
passing
tray of drinks. Draco grinned.
“School’s
fine- as well as can be expected, anyway- and Pansy’s not really my type.
I figure we’ve got enough
blondes
in the family, eh?” he lied, watching as Alec downed his drink in one gulp,
grimacing. Pansy had been his type-
or
what he thought was his type, at least, before meeting Hermione. They’d
got along quite famously, actually, until she
got
a stupid little crush on him.
“True
enough, I suppose. Father’s approved of me and Pansy- if there is
a me and Pansy… how’s old Lucius taking
this
girl? Heidi? Helena?”
“Hermia.”
Draco corrected. “And my father seems to be fine with it. I think he’s
just glad I’ve finally got a steady
girlfriend-
seems dragging Pansy and Blaise along to family functions wasn’t enough
for him.”
Alec
laughed at the mention of his sister’s name, and Draco couldn’t help but
chuckle a little, too. Blaise Zambini
wasprobably
the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen- heard of, even. She’d only consented
to go places with him
occasionally
to be seen on his arm, when none of her other paramours were available
as escorts. She’d gotten none
of
her brother’s kindness, unfortunately- she did have, though, a surprisingly
quick wit, and added a healthy dose of
sarcasm
to nearly everything she said. She changed dramatically around men she
was trying to impress, but Draco
was
only a little boy to her- albeit a very rich one.
“When
am I going to meet this Hermia, then? And where’s Pansy?” Alec asked, his
eyes scanning the room. Draco
shrugged.
“Pansy
went up to Hermia’s room to introduce herself about twenty minutes ago,
and neither have been down since.
You
know girls, though. They’ve probably gone through a thousand cosmetic charms
already, and changed outfits a
few
hundred times. I’ll be surprised if they get down here before midnight.”
Draco sincerely hoped they were getting
along
as well as that- Hermione and Pansy usually hated each other quite passionately,
their enmity culminating in an
incident
in sixth year, where Pansy had been caught snogging in the Astronomy Tower
with Weasley by his sister and
Potter.
Hermione had never forgiven her after that, though she’d patched things
up with Weasley easily enough. He
trusted
Hermione, though, to be civil- Pansy could be very important to her, in
the scheme of things.
“Should
we go up there? I know your parent’s wouldn’t-” Alec stopped midsentence,
as a hush came over the
crowd.
Draco turned to face the staircase, knowing the girls were there- young,
single, beautiful women were by far
the
most important figures in the society of dark wizards, commanding a sort
of respect that not even the oldest and
most
powerful patriarchs could. With the daughters of the Death Eater families
alliances were made, and cemented
with
children. Without them, politics could not exist. Without them, passion,
and betrayal would lose their fire. Without
them,
society would be nothing. Without them, pain would mean nothing. Without
them, lust and bloodlust would have
never
existed, and lust and bloodlust were the foundations of the world of a
true dark wizard.
The
were a perfect contrast, and a perfect match. Pansy’s dress was simple-
a clean cut, royal blue taffeta halter
gown,
shimmering in the dim light of the chandelier. A row of small, perfectly
cut diamonds shimmered along the
neckline
of the dress, sown into the fabric. Each one cost a small fortune in galleons
(five times the price of the dress
otherwise).
Her platinum blonde hair fell in now-perfect waves on her shoulders, giving
her face an almost ethereal
glow,
and complimenting the expensive diamond necklace lying just above her breasts.
Hermione’s
dress was of similar cut, but in a far different fabric- a clinging, stretchy
velvet, in a deep burgundy wine
that
perfectly offset her eyes and hair. Each girl’s appearance was flawless,
and awe-inspiring… in short, only what
was
expected of them. Pansy knew this. Hermione didn’t, and she was quite taken
aback at the approving stares they
received,
especially from much older women.
“So
that’s Hermia, huh?” Alec leaned over and whispered to Draco. He nodded,
feeling his throat go dry. “You’ve
got
good taste, Draco, I’ll say that.”
He
couldn’t agree more.
*****
“Hello,
darling.” Draco said proudly, as Hermione and Pansy reached the boys. Alec
bowed deeply to the blonde,
and
she blushed, glancing over at Hermione, and then Draco. So they were courting
the old-fashioned way. Excellent.
There
just wasn’t enough of that these days- a little bit of manners would do
everyone good.
“
Both of you ladies look smashing tonight.” Alec said roguishly, winking
at them. Draco coughed.
“Where
are my manners? Hermia, this is Alec Zambini. Alec, Hermia Snape-LeFay.”
Alec bent down and kissed her
hand,
staring into her eyes as was proper, before turning his attentions back
to Pansy. Draco inwardly breathed a sigh
of
relief. If he’d kept his eyes downcast, it would have been a sign of passion,
and that- well, that was the last thing he
needed.
“And I see you’ve met Pansy.”
“Oh,
yes!” Hermione said, grinning from ear to ear. “And I’m so glad I have,
too. Pansy, darling, we simply must get
together
sometime- go shopping, perhaps?”
“Ooh!
That’d be lovely!” Pansy said, smiling at the two, seeming quite satisfied
in Alec’s arms, or at least for the
moment.
“Have you ever been to Milan? They’ve got to loveliest wizard boutiques-”
While
Pansy and Hermione lapsed into a quick discussion about fashion options
(they were, after all, girls- what else
could
they bond about?) Draco allowed his eyes to scan the crowded hall. They
wouldn’t stay here for the whole
night,
just until everyone arrived… then they’d go to the dining hall for dinner,
and the garden for desert. His mother
had
the night meticulously planned out, and it was his duty, she’d told him,
to make sure none of the kids were left
behind,
snogging in the bushes. Alex elbowed him in the ribs, clearing his throat.
“As
fascinating as this is, ladies, would you care for a walk in the gardens?
Draco’s father has acquired some lovely
classic
sculptures recently, I’ve heard-” Hermione’s eyes lit up at that, and Draco
breathed a sigh of relief. It’d give
them
a chance to get away from all the older women who were eyeing ‘Hermia’
warily, wondering how they could
manipulate
her to their gain. And all the older men, who were eyeing her for other
reasons.
He
hated adults.
“Ladies
and Gentlemen, most honored guests!” All heads turned towards Narcissa
Malfoy at the top of the staircase,
looking
quite exquisite in an opulent silver gown, a sheath dress with pearl-coated
puffs at the hem. Lucius was
standing
beside her, in a smart black suit, the diamond-encrusted watch on his right
wrist reflecting the light of the
chandelier.
“Everyone’s arrived, and, if it pleases you, we request that you continue
to the dining room, in the room
to
your right.” Narcissa gestured in the direction of the dining room, sapphire
bracelets glittering up and down her
arms.
She flashed a brilliant smile, and the Malfoys dissapparated on the spot.
Draco rolled his eyes.
“Come
on, let’s go to the garden. We won’t be expected at dinner for another
forty-five minutes, as custom.” He
directed
mostly towards Hermione, who nodded. The group turned towards the open
entrance to the garden almost
simultaneously,
though something obstructed Pansy’s way. She shrieked as a tall, daunting
black-haired man, looking
in
his early twenties, spilled a glass full of red wine directly onto the
front of her dress. Hermione could have sworn
he’d
stepped forward-
“Oh!
I’m sorry, miss.” He said, watching her face turn from surprise to sheer
horror. She could barely form words.
“My-
my dress!” she turned to Hermione, eyes wide. “I’m going to go put it in
cold water- spells don’t work on this
sort
of fabric, damn designers.” She muttered. Hermione would ask about that
later.
“Do
you want me to come help you?”
“No,
no- can I use your room, though?”
“Of
course. And feel free to borrow another dress… they’re all Narcissa’s,
anyway. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”
Pansy
nodded, disapparating before Hermione had even finished the sentence. She
turned back to Draco and Alex,
the
latter who looked distinctly forlorn.
“To
the garden, then?” he asked unhappily. They followed him out.
*****
Hermione
lazily traced circular patterns on the surface of the fountain, as Draco
played with her hair, chatting
amicably
with Alec about Quidditch. The boys seemed to get along quite well- much
like boys she knew. Somehow,
she’d
always imagined Slytherin dealings to be business-like and cruel. But she’d
been wrong about many Slytherins-
including
Pansy. Where was Pansy, anyway? She sat up.
“How
long has it been?”
“Since
what?” Draco asked, looking down at his watch. Hermione frowned.
“Since
Pansy went to the bathroom…” Draco blushed.
“Half
an hour. But, and no offense, dear, girls have a strange tendency to take
forever in the loo… I’d be worried if
she
didn’t.”
“Draco,
I’m serious. I’m going to go look for her.” She stood, brushing the wrinkles
out of her dress. “I’ll meet you
two
at dinner in fifteen minutes.”
“Hermia,”
Draco glared, “don’t be ridiculous. You don’t know your way around the
house.”
“I
think I can find a bathroom easily enough, darling.” She huffed, sticking
her nose up in the air. “Alec.”
With
that, she disapparated, back into a corridor she remembered on the first
level of the house. After a minute or
two
of wandering around, she realized Draco was right- she didn’t have the
slightest idea where the hell she was
going.
She scowled at a painting of a veela, who scowled right back, eyes darkening.
Remembering the veelas at the
Quidditch
cup, he jumped back from the painting, only to hear a loud cough behind
her. She spun around again,
greeted
with another painting, of a more normal-looking woman.
More
normal looking than a veela was still not normal.
She
had pale skin, but not pale as normal women would have. It was white, pure
white, with tinges of gray- making
Hermione
suspect the woman was something of a vampire, along with her strangely
dead-looking black hair. Her
eyes
were a deep blue, almost gray- exactly like Draco’s. Eerily like Draco’s,
in fact. She wore a deep-cut forest
green
corset, and that was all that could be seen of her clothing- barring a
pendant on a leather cord around her neck,
pulsating
bright red. She smiled at Hermione, baring her teeth, and confirming her
suspicions. She certainly was a
vampire,
and it was also quite apparent that she was a Malfoy.
“Hello.”
The painting said, folding her hands in her lap. “You look lost.”
Hermione
nodded, stepping closer to the woman and away from the veela.
“I
am- it’s my first night in the manor.” The woman smiled again, causing
Hermione to shudder. She thought she could
detect
a hint of blood on the woman’s fangs.
“Picked
up one of the boys, have you? Silly… though I suppose, even the coldest
can be loved, if not capable of
love
themselves. Tell me it isn’t that little sod Lucius, though? He had the
nerve to try and move me. I was forced to
hex
him, of course.” Hermione’s eyes widened.
“You
can do magic?”
“All
of us can do magic. We generally cast the spell when we’re around the dying
age- to ensure that any of our
likenesses
can at least protect themselves. I, of course, was quite paranoid when
I was alive, so I cast it at fifteen.
Died
six years later.”
“Of
what?” Hermione asked, unable to contain her curiosity.
“Oh,
my family killed me.” She said conversationally. “I was becoming a danger
to them, you see. They put up a nice
statue
out front in my memory- could you tell me, pretty, is it still there?”
“Yes…
it’s still there.” Hermione replied, understanding why the face had seemed
so familiar. They’d left out
the
fangs on the statue, though. “I didn’t know there was vampire blood in
the Malfoy lines… though I could have suspected.”
“Oh,
there isn’t. My parents made sure of that.” She said cheerily, curling
her legs up under her on the plush red
high-backed
chair she’d been painted in. “I was bitten when I was fourteen. Naughty
little girl, you see, hanging
around
with the wrong kind of boys- much like yourself, I see.”
“What’s
your name?” she asked. “I’m Hermia… Hermia LeFay.”
“LeFay,
eh? Strong name, for such a sweet girl… my name, of course, is Malfoy…
but my given name is Carphen.”
Hermione
coughed, growing uncomfortable under the vampire’s gaze. She couldn’t be
sure if she was imagining the
hunger
in her eyes. “Carphen, have- have you seen another girl around here? Blonde,
very pretty… with blue eyes?”
“Ah!
Yes, I have, dear… she was with a man. Didn’t seem quite happy about it,
either. They’re just down the hall.”
She
pointed to her left, and smiled again. “Doing what, I won’t get into details.
Ah, sex, how I miss-”
Hermione
raced down the hall before Carphen could finish, stopping short in front
of the oak-paneled door. She
froze.
Was it really her right to intrude? What if Pansy-
She
never could finish her thought. For right as she pulled out her wand to
unlock the door, a piercing scream rang
out
through the corridor.
Pansy
Parkinson’s.
A/N:
This chapter is dedicated to Phoebe (The Evil Muffin)… for pestering me
at all hours of the day and night
to
post this chapter! Over dinner, during break between classes, at unholy
hours of the morning… SEE WHAT
YOU’VE
DONE TO ME?
Heh…
anyway, I hope you guys liked this chapter. I’ve been taking things slowly
so far, but things will pick up
(as
evidenced by the end of this chapter)… Hermione will not be having a pleasant
summer, because what fun
would
that be? Anyhoo, if you’ve gotten this far, I’m proud (and slightly scared),
but at any rate… review!
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