Daimons

Chapter 11


Edelman held Poppy to his breast as he slowly guided her across the dance floor. It was an evening like no other: a delectable early dinner, the theatre, and late night dancing with the most perfect person in the world.

“They want us to leave.” Poppy looked up into Del’s eyes.

“We have ten more minutes before they officially close and I plan on enjoying every minute of it.” He leaned down and kissed the medi-witch. No words were spoken as the clock ticked away the last few precious moments of their evening together. They heard the door slam shut as they walked out into the frigid night air.

“I think they’re annoyed with us.” Poppy tittered, having a bit too much to drink.

“Let them, for I had the most wonderful night of my life.” Once Del noticed how Poppy was trembling he enveloped her with his cloak, warming her with his own body heat. “My dear lady,” he said, his voice soft and seductive, “we are no longer hormonal children but mature adults with adult needs. I find myself not wanting to waste my time by courting you for I am already head over heels in love with you. I wish to take you to bed this evening and worship your body.”

She trembled at his words but she was an old fashion witch with old fashion ideas. “I am a chubby, middle age witch that has long ago given up the notion of being worshiped.”

“Poppy, look into my eyes…”

She gasped at what she saw in his dark eyes. “I’m beautiful!” She was getting wet, something she had thought impossible at her age. “You desire me… me, no one else but me!”

“I know what I want and that is you. Marry me now…tonight. Then let me show you how much you mean to me.”

“I can’t…” she had hope in her eyes as she looked up at him, “can I?”

“Give me one reason why not and I will not pester you again about it.”

She paused, thinking hard. “I can’t for the life of me think of a reason not to.” She smiled. “I do believe Del that you have yourself a wife.”

“After we are married there will be a small ritual. Nothing like Severus and Armstrong went through, but one to show that you belong to me and I to you.”

“My life has been fulfilling as a medi-witch and I have no regrets, but I haven’t lived, really lived, in decades. As long as you and I are together, I know that I will be living life to fullest.” She slipped her hand around his neck and pulled him down for a lustful kiss. It seemed to last an eternity.

“Young lady, if you keep that up I’ll be taking you here in the middle of the sidewalk.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” She smiled coyly. It was against the side of the building, with the frigid night air swirling about them that Del took Poppy for the first time. They made love many times in the early morning hours, before and after their wedding.

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Minerva stroked Albus’ hair as his head lay in her lap. Just finding out about the disappearance of Hermione, the Headmaster was feeling his age.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.” Tears gathered in his eyes. “This job is for someone who is younger than I. One who hasn’t seen as much.”

“Darling, I’ve been urging you for years to delegate some of your authority. You can not bare the burdens of the world alone.”

“Who do I have? Severus is pregnant and bed ridden. Remus is trying to enlist the werewolves. Sirius is dead. Shakelbolt is busy being an Auror. I have no one I can enlist.”

“Albus, you have Harry bloody Potter to lead the Order. That’s who you have.”

“Minerva, you must be out of your mind. He’s but a boy.”

“Albus you know as well as I that Harry hasn’t been a boy since the day he entered Hogwarts and heard the name Voldemort. With Armstrong by his side I have no doubt that he can lead us to victory.”

“I’m a useless old man, aren’t I?”

“You? Never! You are the greatest wizard alive but your heart is too big to be broken time and again. Let someone help before there is nothing left of you but a shell of a man.”

“I’ll talk to Harry and Armstrong tomorrow. Between the two of them, Voldemort doesn’t have a chance. I think it’s time for us to adjourn to our bedroom. I feel like a good snog is called for.”

Minerva gave the old man a playful slap. “You are an old pervert, my love.”

“I may be to old to run the Order but I’ll never be too old to kiss you.” They took each other's hand as the walked to the bedroom.

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Hermione had been in every dive in Knockturn Alley without hearing a word about Gavin. It was frustrating but logical. People kept a low profile and talked even less. Their lives often depended on being discrete.

She found out the first night that her new look brought a certain amount of benefits with it. She was never considered stupid and wasn’t about to start now. She was careful who she would take drinks from or an occasional meal. She resented being treated differently, now that she was… gorgeous. ‘What was wrong with my looks before?’ she wondered. She also knew her money had to last as long as possible and if that meant putting up with complete strangers flirting and buying her food she could put up with it, even if she felt like a prostitute.

By the third night she was use to the taste of Firewhiskey. Sitting at the bar she had just sent the second man that had come on to her away, when she overheard a conversation at the table directly behind her.

There were three distinct voices, a male and two females. There eyes darted about making sure that no one was listening. Hermione scarcely could hear their conversation. She closed her eyes and concentrated, a technique Gavin had taught her to amplify her hearing ability.

“You’re crazy, Mac. We aren’t that desperate to take a gig that will more than likely get us killed.”

“Holly if we don’t we might as well fold up our tent for good. We have no money and no prospect.”

“But a party for Death Eaters… I’m not politically inclined but really… Death Eaters?!”

“Pearl, you’ve sung for them before you just didn’t know who… what they were.”

The younger of the two girls gasped at that news. “Mac, who?” Hermione was barely able to hear her.

The wizard looked about the room before he continued. After being satisfied that no one could hear he answered. “Remember the party at Malfoy’s? Most of them were… them. The one that took you to bed was one.”

“Naw!” Holly replied. “He was down right nice to me, he was.”

“Know for a fact!” Mac crossed his heart and raised his hand.

“I love this business, I don’t want to quit. I especially don’t want to go home and listen to my parents' ‘told you so’. I rather face Death Eaters,” Pearl said a little too loud. Both Holly and Mac hushed her loudly.

“We need another act and a good one. When the party is over I want to leave with my head on my shoulder and wits about me,” Holly added.

Hermione smirked and thanked her parents for the years of dancing they forced her into. “Show time,” she said out loud. She finished her drink before she boldly sauntered across the room to the trio.

“I couldn’t help but hear that you are looking for a dancer.”

Mac was stunned that someone overheard their conversation.
“Aw… you any good?” he questioned.

“What you looking for?” She leaned across and placed her hands on the table, giving Mac a very nice view of her bosoms.

“Something erotic; can you do erotic?” Pearl was ticked off by the way Mac was acting.

Giving the three a sultry grin Hermione went to prove how good she was. Using what she knew about dancing and what she had seen in movies her movement was a combination striptease and belly dancing. There was a suggestion of underlying passion and sensuality in her dance. Her dance ended with Hermione sitting on Mac’s lap.

“Do I get the job?” she said breathless.

“Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes… a thousand yeses.”

“Welcome aboard,” Holly greeted while Pearl sulked. “What your handle?”

“What?”

“Your name?”

Damn, Hermione knew she couldn’t use her real name. She took the name from her favorite muggle movie and who she modeled her dance after, Lola, from ‘Damn Yankees’. “The name is Lola. I don’t go by any last name.”

“Most of us don’t sweetheart,” Holly said, “Nice to have you aboard.” She reached over and shook Hermione’s hand. “Now if you don’t mind I would appreciate it if you get off my husband's lap.”

“Oh…sorry.” Mione’s face reddened as she slipped off of Mac’s lap. She couldn’t help but to feel that she was one step closer to finding Gavin.

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Moony howled at the moon. There were no restraints to hold him, no potion to control his action. He was free to be what he was... a werewolf. Free of human inhibitions, free of guilt that had plagued him since he was turned. He ran with the wind, with his pack, and there was a joy that no human could ever understand. Moony didn’t understand it either. All he felt was an unmitigated joy. In the morning Remus would worry about what Moony had done the night before but that would be Remus’ problem, not his.

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Francis was out for the evening, gone to her crochet club meeting, leaving Draco tending to Tyler’s needs. Tyler was being spoiled as Draco did anything and everything the small boy asked. From something called macaroni and cheese with hot dogs for dinner to roller skating in the house. Nearing seven, Draco thought it was time to ready the boy for bed.

Gathering him in his arms he headed to the bathroom and started to fill the tub as he stripped the boy for his bath. All along Tyler squirmed and wiggled about making Draco’s task as difficult as possible. Tyler settled down with the promise of a bedtime story. Lathering a cloth he started on the child’s dirty little face. Tyler, thinking it was great fun, kept sticking his pink little tongue out to taste the water on the wash cloth only to start spitting when he got a mouthful of soap.

“That will teach you to leave your tongue in your mouth were it belongs.”

Tyler stuck out his tongue and blew Draco a raspberry in response, sending Draco into hysterics. Draco was still laughing when he started to wash Tyler’s shoulder. He stopped as if he hit a brick wall and stared at a small, plum, mark that sat between his neck and shoulder. He ran the tips of his fingers lightly over the mark again and again until Tyler fidgeted and whined that he was tickling him.

“Tyler, play with your toy for a moment, would you please?” Draco handed him a toy submarine. Tyler was more than happy to oblige and was lost in his imagination while Draco went to the mirror. Turning his head slightly, he pulled his collar far enough down to stare at the small, plum mark on his shoulder. His father had told him that it was a sleeping snake all coiled up. From the time that witch craft left the earth and entered man, the Malfoy’s men carried the mark of the snake on their neck. He looked down at the boy splashing water about the room and he knew who he was…Tyler was his half brother, the product of a muggle and a wizard, a mudblood. How could his father cheat on his mother? How could he be so hypocritical and bed a muggle?

As he watched the boy play he became furious with his father. How could he deny the boy? How could he deny the boy his birth right? How could he deny… his son? There were questions that he would have to ask his father… if he ever saw him again. Until then he would be the father image the boy deserved. He ran his hand through his hair. He had to make a plan. He had to make enough money to take care of himself and Tyler. He had to grow up and be… oh Merlin… responsible. ‘I wonder what Ron would say about you?’ He felt a tear swell. He shook his head of the thought. He only had one responsibility now and that was Tyler.

“Before you turn into a prune I better get you out of the tub.” Tyler looked at his wrinkled little finger tips before he reached up to Draco. “I’m going to take good care of you. Is that okay with you?” Draco asked.

“Like my dada?” Tyler slipped his arms around Draco’s neck.

“Yeah, like you dad. Would that be alright?”

Tyler beamed. “Okay.” He gave Draco a kiss on the cheek.

Draco held him for dear life as he half said and half prayed, “I’ll be a good dad. I promise.”

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