Out of the Silent Planet

Title: Out of the Silent Planet (14/39)
Author: moirasfate/ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA/NC-17
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Plot driven smut, Darkfic, Romance, Drama, Angst...
Warnings: M/F, Bondage, slight non-con, Dark!Draco, and HBP spoilers.
Summary: Post-Hogwarts - Hermione Granger fulfills Severus Snape's final wish, to journey to Japan to ‘retrieve' something of importance. Set eleven years after HBP.
Author's Notes: This is my first DM/HG ficlet, so please be kind to the newbie! The title of this fic is taken from C.S. Lewis' book, first in the Perelandra Chronicles.

Many thanks and snoodles to kazfeist for cleaning this chapter grammatically and with loving care! Thanks, K!



Out of the Silent Planet
Chapter Fourteen - Of travel by train, time changes, and the continuation of winter



They wasted no time in Edo, and all the while Hermione wondered about her few belongings getting where they needed to go and the fact that she had no time to write any sort of correspondence to Millie or Mr. Watanabe. From the Apparition point in Utoro to the Portkey terminal in Edo, Hermione had no time to see much of the Japanese Wizarding city for Draco held her by the wrist as they wove through the din and hum of thousands of other wizards in the terminal. Hermione felt as if Draco were going to pull her left arm out of the socket as he trudged through the crowd.

He had pulled the cowl of his cloak up to hide his foreign blond hair and silver eyes, and Hermione could tell that he was anxious to not be seen or perhaps recognized by the many foreign people in the terminal. Draco no longer had the glamour that obscured his true appearance, and Hermione wondered why he had not cast a few spells on himself if he were so anxious not to be noticed, but it seemed, at least to Draco, that there was no time.

When they arrived at a small private cubicle, Hermione wished Draco would release his crushing hold on her wrist, but he never did. Instead he went to the Portkey attendant who was dressed in pale blue robes, a girl no older then twenty who wore a silver badge that gave her name and designation as an attendant.

"The Matsumoto party? Good, I was afraid that you would not make it. Portkey activation to Milan begins in two minutes," the girl said with a strained smile, apparently more in a rush to get her clients out of the terminal than to take time to be in the least bit accommodating.

Draco nodded to the girl, and pulled Hermione to the small dais in the centre of the cubicle where an old and tattered Japanese comic book or manga with the title Doraemon lay as a strange Portkey. Hermione sighed as she finally came to a stop before the dais and Draco released her wrist. Grasping the book on one end, and Draco taking hold of the other, they waited.

"Activation in 30 seconds, thank you for your patronage," the girl in the pale blue robes said in a false sense of cheerfulness.

Hermione glanced at Draco, only the bottom half of his face visible from the cowl that hung lowly over his visage, and was feeling very much ill as she saw him smirk as the familiar hook behind the navel Portkey travel grabbed Hermione and compressed her body in the process of magical travel.

When her feet slammed against the ground again, Hermione knew she was going to vomit. She took no time to acknowledge her surroundings, or the fact that Draco had released his hold on the manga and she was now cradling it against her chest as she began to fall to her knees. Before she could hit the ground, Draco snatched her up, scowling at Hermione's greenish colour and began pulling her along with his arm wrapped about her slender waist. Hermione recovered slowly, thankful, although it was a bit painful, that Draco was basically carrying her along. Casting her eyes about, Hermione found that they were in a dark corridor which smelled of urine and cigarette smoke and she frowned as the acrid odour of the harshly lit corridor with tiled walls made her feel even more nauseous. Turning a corner, Draco released Hermione at the bottom of a set of stairs that stretched upward and out of the corridor.

"Where are we?" Hermione whispered, not trusting her stomach to force vomit through her mouth if she opened it wider.

"An Underground depot outside of Milano Centrale...I'm not going to carry you up those stairs, Granger, so get a grip on yourself," Draco growled impatiently. He began up the steps and Hermione slowly followed. When he reached the top and street level, Draco glanced about, adjusting the cowl on his cloak so that his face was more visible, he waited for Hermione, clenching and unclenching his hand impatiently.

At street level, Hermione felt much better since she was out of the dank and acrid air. She soon came to realize that she stood under a high stone pavilion and across a drive full of Italian taxis from the entrance to Milano Centrale, the central train station in the city of Milan, Italy. It was dark out, and it took a while for Hermione to realize that they had travelled so far that the dawn she had seen in Japan had not reached Italy yet.

"Hurry up, Granger, we have a train to catch!" Draco growled, grasping her wrist once again and pulling her along like some rag doll. Hermione did not protest, as she knew that many trains stopped running so late in the evening.

Into the massive train station, Hermione was thankful that so few people were about. Draco went to the only ticket window that was open and in perfect Italian bought two tickets to Verona, specifically asking, in what little Italian Hermione knew, for a supplemental first class upgrade on two trains...one from Milan to Verona and another from Verona to Trento. The ticket agent was slightly disgruntled at Draco's forceful speech, but sold Draco the tickets. Hermione wondered at Draco as he pulled out several large bills, Euro, from the pocket of his slacks and did not bother with the change.

Once again, she was pulled along, up steps, and into the main concourse of the station, which was as long as four Quidditch pitches. Hermione banged into Draco as he stopped to read the electronic board with what trains were on which tracks and quickly pulled Hermione along again, stopping to validate the tickets at a stamping machine and to the tracks where several humming trains sat, ready at any moment to pull out of the station. As they wended their way between people and beggars who spoke to them in several different languages, Hermione marvelled at the structure of the station with a high roof above the tracks and the glass tiling of the roof that revealed only a hazy and dark sky. The architecture was majestic, if not a bit grandiose, and vaguely Hermione remembered that this train station had been built and rebuilt before and after the Fascist regime in the 1930s and 1940s. But she had little time to think more about the architectural sculpture for Draco was pushing her onto a train that was humming and ready to leave the station. The car was marked first class and Hermione went inside, and was soon pulled along to a seat near the opposite end of the car and close to the door. Hermione fell into a soft seat across from Draco and soon the train was moving.

The train pulled out of the station and into the night-time lights of Milan, gaining speed as it passed through the urban sprawl. When the conductor came, Draco handed the man in the gray uniform the tickets to be punched and soon they were alone again. There was only one other person in the car, a student by the looks of it, who had had a little extra money to buy a first class seat. It was only a few more minutes and the train had left Milan proper, and it was then, Draco pushed back the cowl of his cloak completely and stared at Hermione who sat with her hands in her lap, her cane set against the seat next to her.

"This was the last train to Verona tonight without taking an express to Venice... We'll reach Verona in about an hour and half."

Hermione nodded, and turned to look out of the window again, which proved fruitless since the lighting in the car reflected off the windows and made it almost impossible to see the darkness outside. Draco fell silent, and as Hermione glanced across at him, she found his eyes were closed and his right arm gripped the stump of his left as if his arm were aching with phantom pains. Hermione opened her mouth to ask him about it, but said nothing as his face twitched a bit and was passive again. Soon the lights in the car flickered to dim and Hermione sighed as she could see the darkened landscape outside.

It had been two years since she had last been in Italy and that had been Rome and for a Potions Consortium. She had never been to Milan before or Verona for that matter. Her travels had been to Rome and Naples, where most of the Italian wizards seemed to congregate and reside. The Italian Ministry was based in Rome, as were all things national for the most part, and Hermione had seen little else of Italy. With a sigh, Hermione realized that she was still grasping the Japanese manga in her left hand and slowly released it, setting it on the vacant seat beside her.

It was strange, Hermione thought, the dim light in the car casting harsh shadows upon Draco's face that they would be taking a train to wherever it was that that were going. Of course, trains were no oddity in the Wizarding world, but a Muggle train, Muggle means, it seemed out of place with Draco Malfoy's prejudice against non-magical folk. Why hadn't they Apparated from Milan? Or taken another Portkey? Although Hermione was thinking of never taking another Portkey in her life, it seemed much easier and time efficient as compared to travel by train.

Now that they were in Italy, Hermione also wondered how long they would be there before returning to Britain. Thinking back to the now lost diaries written in Severus' hand, she remembered one of the entries had been written while he and Draco were in Italy. Perhaps the person who had housed them while the two Death Eaters had been escaping was the one whom Draco wanted to see in Trento...or Trent as Hermione knew of the small city. What did she know about Trento, she let her thoughts centre in on a natural line of consideration.

Trento was a city in the far north, in the Italian Alps, and Hermione shivered at the thought of more snow. Hermione also knew that this city was key in the Catholic religion back in the 16th century and that during Roman times it was called Tridentum or Three Teeth due to the mountain formations that surrounded the city. Other than that, Hermione knew almost nothing of the city. In the many histories of magic, little was written about Trento other than the mention of lesser-known wizards who had escaped to Trento from the north to evade persecution from overzealous Muggles during the 15th century. All in all, Trento was a non-magical city, but if they were going there, a wizard must live there...a Signore Fabrizio.

Hermione sat back in her seat, resting her head against the cold window. Even though she had only been awake a short time, the time change and Portkey travel was making her sleepy and so she shut her eyes for a moment.

* * *

Draco was shaking her awake roughly, and Hermione realized the train had stopped. Begrudgingly she rose and was once again pulled along by her wrist off the train and into the cool night air. Through a modern train station, Hermione realized that she was almost running to keep up with Draco until they reached the other side of the station and were on another train. Again, Hermione found herself in another seat, sitting across from Draco who was now very alert and did not shut his eyes during the journey north. As the train gathered speed and left Verona, Hermione began to see silhouetted outlines of mountains, ever growing larger and closer as they progress northward. Soon they were going through tunnels that seemed to stretch on forever and were going ever higher up into the base of the Alpine mountain range. Hermione soon saw snow, growing ever thicker in the dim night light.

"We'll be there soon enough, Granger. We'll be staying in a Muggle hotel today and meet my contact tomorrow night," Draco said softly as the train entered another tunnel and the darkness was nearly complete in the car.

"Then why the rush?" Hermione asked in a near whisper, her eyes meeting Draco's in the dark.

"Why not? I did not want to get there late...and I wanted to get used to the time change. Not to mention that I would like to sleep in a bed more like the one I had when I lived in Europe. I have slept on a futon for eleven years, Granger," Draco said in a derisive manner, almost sneering.

Hermione said nothing in retort, what could she say at any rate? She was only along for the ride, it seemed, and it was frustrating to say the least.

When the train sped past a town called Rovereto, Draco stood and stretched. Hermione estimated they had spent almost four hours on trains and it was early morning in Italy. If she had stayed in Japan, it would only be midday and in Britain, late evening. It was then Hermione remembered why she hated to travel. Slowly the train began to slow, and Draco did not take her wrist again. She followed him off the train when it stopped and the doors opened with a hiss. Hermione nearly choked at the cold that entered her lungs at her first breath outside. It was as cold, if not colder, than the weather had been in Utoro earlier that day.

Following close behind Draco, they walked to the underground concourse and soon made their way into a dark train station, devoid of life except the two of them and two men who sat as guards just inside the station. When the guards saw that Hermione and Draco were entering the station, they opened the doors to let them in and eventually to let them out of the station. One guard addressed Draco, but Draco only nodded and whispered a word of thanks.

Hermione stood outside the station with Draco, gazing across the street to a snow-covered park with a memorial statue in the centre, but even with the orange park light reflecting off the snow she could not discern who the statue was supposed to represent. She did however notice that there was at least a foot and a half of snow on the ground. Even as they stood for a moment in front of the station, Hermione could see small, fine flakes of snow falling from an overcast sky.

"Come along, Granger, I want to get out of the cold before my balls freeze off," Draco growled, heading across the driveway before the station and to the bus stop. Hermione shivered as the true Alpine winter wind whipped at her clothing and her face. Across the desolate and wet street, they began walking briskly along the edge of the park and around one corner to cross another street and begin walking under porticos which protected the darkened store fronts from the full force of the winter wind. Down one dark street, Hermione caught sight of the street name on the side of an ancient palazzo house...Via Orfane. The street was cobbled and apparently, more suited to pedestrian traffic than automobile traffic, for Hermione had yet to see one car. With a sudden turn, Hermione followed Draco into a small piazza, or square, where a white stucco house stood. The snow had been cleared away from a carpeted walk and to the glass door. Above the door, lit with warm exterior lights was the name Albergo Accedemia

Hermione followed closely behind Draco as a man a opened the door for them to enter, his eyes coolly studying the late arriving guests.

"Mr. Black, I presume?" the man said in thickly accented, but precise, English, as he walked beside Draco to the front desk just left of the door.

"Yes, is the room ready?"

"Si, Mr. Black, let me just clarify that we have tried to accommodate your requests, but the owner of the hotel would like your payments to go to the Gringotts account in London by tomorrow evening."

"It will be done," Draco drawled, pushing back the cowl of his cloak and leaning against the counter while Hermione stood in silence just at his right elbow.

"Of course," the gentleman said softly with a smile as he rounded the counter and shuffled about the desk to hand Draco a silver key and a receipt of some sort. "Breakfast will be brought to your room at seven thirty, and feel free to modify any of the preset wards as you see fit. Your suite is on the fourth floor, you may take the lift if you like... My my name is Pietro and please call upon me if there is anything you need."

Draco nodded and turned, his cloak flapping as he headed for the stairs. Hermione smirked; Draco did not seem to care much for the idea of a Muggle lift when she noticed the scowl on his face at the mention of it. She also recognized that he had used his mother's maiden name instead of the infamous name he was born with...

Up four flights of stairs, Draco stopped before a door marked 402, and slipped the key into the lock. Soon Hermione found herself in a large room with several couches, low ceilings with raw wooden beams and skylights, and through a doorway on the other side of the room was a bedroom with a small balcony with a view across tiled roofs and to the cathedral beyond. Closing the door behind her, she felt the setting of magical wards and protections and she then wondered at Draco's length and depth of preparations for this trip to Trento. Walking across the room and into the bedroom she found that a bathroom adjoined the room just behind the wall where a large bed stood set with white blankets, fluffy pillows, and two modern lamps on bedside tables on either side. Only Draco's black cloak marred the snowy white comforter on the bed, and water could be heard running in the bathroom.

Hermione sat down on the bed, not bothering to take off her cloak, and gazed out of the balcony’s French doors to the snow that was now falling in heavy flakes. When Draco came out of the bathroom, he moved to a wardrobe at the opposite end of the bedroom and opened the cherry wood doors to reveal that her belongings had been unpacked and placed inside. Hermione's brow rose at this fact and she rose to stand beside Draco, looking into the wardrobe.

"Do they have house elves?" she asked more to herself than to Draco.

"No, a Muggle unpacked your things, and mine as well it seems," he said with an air of distaste, kneeling down to the small pile of black clothing that was his...a pair of black slacks and a black jumper, apparently all the clothing Draco seemed to own. Hermione sighed as her eyes returned to her few threadbare clothes hanging pitifully in the wardrobe.

Draco rose and turned back to the bed, toeing off his boots at the left-hand side of the bed and falling gracefully onto the mattress, kicking his cloak onto the wooden floor. Hermione sighed again, doffing her cloak and hanging it inside the wardrobe. As she closed the wardrobe, she felt magic pass through her as Draco began applying his own wards to the bedroom door and throughout the suite. Turning toward the bed, Hermione smirked at the self-satisfied look on Draco Malfoy's face. Perhaps he was pleased; they had literally, in a matter of hours, travelled from the East and into Europe, closer toward home.

Hermione moved to the bedroom door, wondering what there was to drink in the mini bar in the sitting room, but as she reached the doorway, the door slammed shut before her face, nearly smashing her nose in the process.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked suspiciously, sitting up on the bed, his long silver blond hair falling over his left shoulder as he moved.

"The other room...is that a problem?" Hermione intoned, wanting nothing more than to find something to drink, sit down, separate from Draco Malfoy, and rest on one of the comfortable red couches.

"I did not give you permission to leave the room or my side."

Hermione turned on her heel to lock eyes with Draco, daring him to start one of his little tiffs when she felt so raggedly tired from so much travel in such a short amount of time. She was definitely not in the mood to spar with him, but she had kowtowed to him all day by being pulled like someone's toy wagon all about Edo, Milan, and Verona.

"I want to be alone, surely you're sick of the sight of me by now," Hermione hissed, her hand moving to the door knob and turning it with no result, the door was magically locked and her wand was in the pocket of her dress.

"Sick of the sight of you, yes...but I am in the mood to talk, Granger. Don't you want those questions which have been rattling around your head all day to be answered?" Draco drawled, falling back into the pillows of the bed.

"What good would it do me? I question your motives and get unintelligible answers, which I have come to expect from you."

Draco chuckled, patting the bed with his hand as a motion for her to come closer...it was degrading to Hermione and she stood just where she was without a notion to move.

"Come here, Granger..."

"No."

"Come here."

Hermione shook her head. This was silly, she thought, and drew her wand, casting an unlocking charm on the door, which seemed to bounce back and sting her hand as if her wand were electrified. She groaned softly, realizing that Draco had not simply locked the door, but warded it specifically so that she could not leave.

"Let me out, Malfoy."

"No, I asked you to come here, Granger, now do so before I have to hex you."

Hermione frowned. "That would be considered 'harm,' wouldn't it?"

Draco grinned, which seemed more like a grimace than anything that was remotely congenial. Hermione shuddered at his expression, it seemed that she had almost forgotten that Draco was as dangerous as a wild, feral beast since he had acted somewhat civilly to her in his silence during their sojourning, but the same care and caution she had kept her mind and body in during her stay in Japan returned. Although she was away from the ryokan, Yuki, and Draco Malfoy's prison, she was no more safe than if she had decided to jump into a pit with starved dogs.

"Not necessarily...now come here, or do you want me to say 'please?'"

For Draco Malfoy to say 'please' was as likely as him saying 'thank you' to Harry for defeating Tom Riddle. Hermione relented, but kept her wand in hand as she moved to the right hand side of the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress.

"Take your shoes and dress off."

"What?" Hermione asked incredulously, staring at Malfoy like the madman he was...

"You heard me."

Hermione gaped at Draco as he sat up and began tugging off his tight black shirt revealing his pale back and chest, well defined muscles rippling, hair becoming mussed and falling out of the black leather throng that held it back from his sharp face. Hermione closed her mouth as Draco threw his shirt in the floor, but did not continue to undress and left his slacks buttoned.

"Hurry it up, Granger..."

"I'm not..." Hermione began, but did not finish as her clothes were magicked off, as well as her shoes and socks. She was left in her underwear; knickers, and plain black lace bra. She jumped up from the bed, to grasp at her clothes that had flown across the room like a fluttering black flag of faded cotton and worn buttons. Hermione only made it two steps before Draco jerked her back toward the bed so that she fell into the pillows and cracked the top of her head against the headboard.

"There...now, let's talk a bit before a nap, shall we?"

Hermione rubbed the top of her head as Draco rolled onto his right side, his arm cradling his head as he smiled like some pleased child at what he had done. Hermione sighed as she settled herself, resignedly, her left arm just touching Draco's chest.

"First...as soon as the shops open, you're going to buy something suitable to wear... I'll pay, of course, since I doubt you planned to exchange any money for a trip to Italy and the shops in Trento do not take Gringotts credit. You'll find a decent set of knickers first, and a nice dress. This isn't Milan and we really did not have the time to shop, so you'll have to do with whatever Muggles wear in this backwater town.

Second...tonight we are to visit a certain Fabrizio Divina so that I can get my pro-the-sis... You need not dress too extravagantly, but a nice skirt and top will be ideal.

Third...tomorrow night we are going to be guests in the winter mansion of an old friend of mine, and that is where you will need the dress. Perhaps with a bit of Transfiguration you will look a little bit better than a common Muggle? That night you are to act as if you care for me, even love me...I have appearances to uphold even though I have been away from Europe for so long.

And fourth and perhaps most importantly, tomorrow night say nothing about the implications of how or why you found me...or even that you found me at all. Say nothing about Severus or the fact that I was a prisoner of sorts in Japan. Follow my lead and you'll come out of this without being too offended or harmed."

Hermione furrowed her brow, "Is that a threat?"

"No. Just a warning. I will not harm you, but someone else might."

Hermione turned her face to look at Draco, the end of his nose just an inch from her own. "How long do you plan to stay in Italy? Because I would like to know when I can get back to my own life."

"Four days at the very least. I'm not worried about Fabrizio Divina, but my old friend...he might like us to stay a bit."

"Who is..." Hermione began, but found that Draco Malfoy’s lips stopped her mouth.

Hermione jerked away suddenly, more shocked than anything else. She stared at Draco who had closed his eyes and sighed.

"Get under the covers, Granger, I'm getting cold."

Hermione hesitated to move although Draco was rolling onto his left side and pulling the blankets back under his body with his right hand. Hermione wiped her lips with the back of her hand and began maneuvering herself to also slide under the heavy blankets.

"Three hours, and then we go out," was the last thing Draco said before he flicked his wrist and the lamps in the room switched off.

Hermione lay with her back to Draco, the bed not quite large enough so that they could not not touch without falling into the floor. Their backs were touching, and Hermione could not help but feel that it was better than being cold and alone in bed. Slowly she shut her eyes and was soon off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Instead of being shaken awake, Hermione found that this time Draco was pulling her hair. He straddled her middle and began pulling the tiny errant hairs that had never been quite tamed and had ever since stuck up from her head in minuscule reminders of a time she was called a 'Bushy-Haired, Buck-Toothed, Know-It-All.' Plucking out one hair close to her temple, Hermione squealed and bucked so roughly that Draco went falling off the bed and onto the floor with a painful thud.

"Damn you, Malfoy...you could have just shaken me awake or called my name!" Hermione hissed, sitting up in bed, gazing down at the tangle that was Malfoy. He glared at her from the floor, early morning light streaming through the French doors and into his pale hair which seemed to be just as mussed as her own.

"I like to see you in a flurry, Granger," Draco grinned maliciously, kicking up from the floor and moving across the room to pick his shirt up from the floor and slip it over his nearly hairless chest. Hermione groaned as he left the room with ease, the wards recognizing his touch and lifting automatically. "Breakfast or lunch, if you want to consider it, is ready and waiting, Granger..." Draco called from in the sitting room.

Moving to rise from her comfortable bed, Hermione winced, the ache returning to her hip and knee, paining her as it had not in some time. She retrieved her dress, and mended a few rips in the old fabric from where it had been magicked off her body hours before. Finally dressed and taming her hair a bit, she sat down in the sitting room to enjoy a bit of what she considered brunch which consisted of toasted ham and cheese panini, fresh melon and apple, sweet buttered cookies, espresso, tea and peach juice. Hermione ate quickly, realizing that despite the wonderful meals at the ryokan, she had missed more familiar food no matter how heavier it seemed in her stomach.

Draco ate as ravenously as ever and quickly dashed back into the bathroom to fix his hair, retrieve their cloaks and usher Hermione out of the room to lock the door behind him. Hermione could hear movement inside the hotel, and when they reached the lobby many guests were milling about, speaking in German, Italian and French, all ready for breakfast in the restaurant in the hotel. Draco swept past the front desk with a quick nod to the gentleman behind the desk and out the door he went. Hermione decided for once that she would not tire herself trying to keep pace, but would at least keep Draco in sight. They moved out of the small piazza and back onto the streets, walking through the icy morning past people walking to work or to school. Hermione noticed that she and Draco elicited a few strange glances as if they were poignantly out of place and perhaps they were wear nothing more than cloaks over plain clothing, but it was Draco who was receiving the majority of the stares, particularly from women. Hermione felt a flare of jealousy as Draco seemed to bask in these attentions, he was handsome, and he knew it... Hermione cleared her throat as Draco walked ahead of her, his pale hair almost white in the overcast sunlight. What had possessed her to ever feel jealous?

Passing several shops of various sorts, Hermione groaned as she passed a bookstore and did not go inside. It was a Muggle bookstore, but it was a bookstore nonetheless. It almost seemed a sin not to go inside, but Draco trudged on, his boots tapping against the treated and wet cobbles, his eyes casting about to find a shop that suited him more than Hermione. Finally, he stopped before the front of a boutique where a dress of black and dark green satin was displayed. By the time Hermione caught up, Draco had pushed inside and was speaking to a middle-aged woman about the dress.

Hermione pushed inside as well, a dainty bell on the door sounding her arrival.

"My wife needs a dress..." she heard Draco say and immediately she flushed in a mixture of anger, shock, and oddly, pleasant surprise. "Also, an outfit that would do at a formal meeting. A dress for a dinner party, and perhaps a few skirts, and if you have anything in the way of undergarments I would also like to see those."

The middle aged woman replied, apparently understanding Draco's English quite well, but not able to speak it. The middle-aged woman, who was decorated with bijoux and strings of simulated pearls smiled, her red painted lips stretching over nicotine stained teeth. She answered Draco in Italian and all the while Draco nodded and hummed in agreement.

Hermione was seized by the arm and pulled through the storefront and into the back by the woman who told Hermione in broken English to call her Katia. Cloak doffed, tape measure out, Hermione found herself standing upon a small dais being measured Muggle-fashion and made over as if she were some specimen of great interest.

"Your marito...husband is handsome, Signora," Katia hummed as she measured Hermione's bust.

"Thank you..." Hermione replied unsure of what else to say as Katia forced Hermione's arms up to wrap the cloth tape around her breasts.

Measurements taken and noted, Hermione was allowed to step down from her perch and sit down in a small sitting area in the front where Draco sat sipping a small cup of cafe deutsche, his cloak hanging on the chair back.

"It will be a moment or so, Madame Katia's assistants are pulling out all of their best clothing that will fit you without having to be altered," Draco said over the rim of his cup, his voice very matter-of-fact and cool.

Soon two younger women appeared from the back of the boutique, motioning to Hermione to follow them. Hermione sighed, glancing back at Draco who seemed to be set up for a show.

The morning passed quickly as Hermione tried on several outfits, stepping out to show Draco who gave a simple thumbs up or down. Hermione felt as if she were about to explode, since many of the outfits she liked enough to buy herself if she had had the funds only to have Draco Malfoy give a thumbs down... leaving Hermione to change again.

At some point, the dress in the front window was stripped from the dress form and was presented to Hermione to try on after Draco had approved of two outfits of a-line skirts and two silk tops. Hermione had pins sticking into her sides as she donned the dress, which seemed a bit tight in the bust and a little too loose in the hips. Gazing in the full-length mirror in the back, Hermione saw what the dress looked like for the first time.

The dress was nothing short of flattering, clinging to Hermione's natural curves in a provocative manner. The skirt was slim fitting, a slit along Hermione's right leg revealing drapes of green taffeta sewn into the slit to give a bit of modesty since the split ran almost up to her hip. It was a sleeveless gown with a halter-like top and plunging neckline that hung in folds of black satin that faded into dark green. It was a backless gown as well which also terminated just above her buttocks in similar black into green satin. The only thing Hermione could find fault with was the fact the dress made her feel incredibly naked and cold.

Stepping out from the curtained partition to the changing room, Hermione glanced at Draco for his thumbs up or down, but he just stared at Hermione, a mixture of pleasure and arousal evident in his eyes.

"We'll take it," he addressed Madame Katia, pleasing the middle aged woman into a fit of happy laughter.

All together, Draco nearly bought hundreds to thousands of galleons worth of clothing, including several trinkets, combs, and shoes from the boutique. When he gave the address for the clothing to be sent to, Madame Katia spoke happily to Draco and Hermione soon realized that the woman was congratulating them on their marriage and a good honeymoon in her home city. As they stepped out of the store, Hermione sighed. Once again, she had failed to make her will known to Draco and had allowed him to orchestrate everything

"Back to the hotel for some more rest. Just looking at you wearing some of that fake haute couture has made me tired."

Hermione said nothing for a moment as they walked down the street and past the bookstore again. She had to admit that it was exhausting trying on much of the clothing the modest boutique had to offer. Much of the clothing was overpriced and plain, but Hermione liked many of the outfits and was disappointed that she did not have much of a say in the matter of what would be sent to her.

The cold of the day was beginning to seep into Hermione's bones and when they returned to the room Hermione drew herself a steaming bath in the large tub the hotel provided and planned to spend the day trying to get the cold out of her sore bones.



Below is a picture of the real Albergo Accedemia. This is perhaps one of two 4.5 star hotels in Trento!