Out of the Silent Planet

Title: Out of the Silent Planet (15/39)
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. A few contextual notes: a pauldron is a piece that covers the arm, along with the gauntlet that covers the hand in armor terminology. The meager Italian used by Fabrizio Divina is marked by an asterisk and the translations can be found at the end of the chapter. Also, Vulcan is the Roman equivalent of Greek Hephaestus, the only son of Juno and Jupiter who was divine. Vulcan was a crippled god (either born such or from being thrown down from Mt. Olympus by Jupiter) and was said to live under the earth, making armor...he is the god of armor and metal working. Vulcan is a very interesting fellow, to me at least, and if you want to learn more about him...http://www.pantheon.org/articles/v/vulcan.html


Many thanks to kazfeist for improving this chapter!



Out of the Silent Planet
Chapter Fifteen - Of unjust presumptions, dark artifacts, and quiet voices



By six o'clock, Trento time, someone knocked on the door of the suite, startling Hermione from her doze on the couch in the sitting room. Before she could rise to answer the door, Draco strode in from the bedroom and opened the door, a scowl on his face. Outside the door was the gentleman from the front desk, Pietro, as well as two other hotel employees, holding green boxes with the name of the boutique embossed in gold on the lids.


Draco spoke shortly to Pietro and directed the other employees to take the boxes into the bedroom. Slipping Pietro a hundred Euro note, Draco shut the door and began resetting the wards on the room. Hermione pushed the velour throw off her legs and moved through the sitting room and into the bedroom where nearly fifteen green clothes boxes rested on the made bed. She eyed the golden embossed letters with a sense of apprehension, thinking of the exorbitant amount of money Draco had spent on the clothes and also noting that she was now indebted to him financially, a position she did not like in the least.

"Well, are you going to stare at them or find something to wear to meet Divina tonight?" Draco asked from the door way, leaning on the jamb, his right shoulder pressed against the wood.

"I would rather do this in private, if you don't mind," Hermione said softly, approaching the boxes and opening the first one in reach, white tissue paper floating in the air as she pulled the green lid away.

"I do mind, actually, but I also need to get ready," Draco drawled with a bored sigh.

Hermione huffed as Draco moved to enter the bathroom, closing the door behind him and the sound of water running filled the bedroom with white noise. The first box contained a dark green silk top with long flowing sleeves, and a large neckline with cream-colored embroidery of ivy leaves about the edges. Hermione remembered liking this top when she tried it on, the shirt was much like a 'peasant' shirt in that it barely hung on the shoulders, revealing much of her shoulders, collar bone and the slight swell of the tops of her breasts. It was perhaps the most casual of all the clothing Draco had picked out. The fact that most of the clothing was either green, gray or black had not escaped Hermione's attention and she thought perhaps it was retribution for wearing so much crimson and gold as a schoolgirl. She did like green though, more so than red, but she would never tell an ex-Slytherin this fact.

Pulling her wand from the sleeve of her dress, Hermione swished the vinewood through the air elaborately, unpacking box after box and sending the clothing across the room to a magically opened wardrobe so that the pieces could hang themselves on the empty hangars. In the smallest boxes came stockings, lingerie, all of which Hermione had not tried on, but that she knew would fit by just looking at the sheer garments, and if they did not fit, it was nothing a bit of transfiguration could not fix. When she finished unpacking the boxes, she Vanished the green and golden paper boxes with a quick flick of her wrist. The only thing that was missing was the dress... Hermione figured that since it had to be altered slightly, the dress would not be ready until the next day.

Choosing a more conservative pale gray top made of linen with silver buttons down the front, Hermione chose a long black a-line skirt to go with it. When she donned the outfit and gazed at herself in the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door, she smiled. She looked like she would have been at work, in clothing that looked as elegant as it did comfortable. The linen shirt had long tails that hung over the skirt and past her waist to her mid thigh, making it seem like she wore a smock over her skirt. Pulling a brush from her small cosmetic bag, she began grooming her tresses to be pulled back into a loose bun.

By the time Draco stepped out of the steaming bathroom, he was dressed and his hair was combed and pulled back in a loose ponytail. Hermione could smell sandalwood and a hint of patchouli, a combination that was quite masculine, but not overpowering. She sat on the end of the bed, her legs tucked under her skirt, gazing out the window to the snow falling on the balcony and wondering if she could transfigure her coat into a fur lined parka.

"That outfit is sufficient," was all Draco said as he moved to the wardrobe and pulled a pair of black socks from the bottom. He was dressed in the same black slacks he had worn before, but he was bare from the waist up. Hermione averted her gaze so as not to look at the stump of his arm, she hated to admit it, but it repulsed her slightly and was something that seemed so wrong when it came to thinking of 'Draco Malfoy.' Holding his socks in his teeth, Draco pulled out his one black jumper and struggled with the wool to get it over his head without mussing his hair too much. Hermione watched in amusement as Draco transfigured the sweater with a snap of his fingers so that the jumper now had a fisherman's knit instead of a ribbed knit. She wondered then how he was going to slip his socks on with only one arm, but was surprised when Draco magicked the socks to appear on his feet instead of donning them like a normal person. Smoothing his hair and checking his teeth, Draco shut the wardrobe and turned to Hermione, a strange grin on his pale lips.

"Must I tell you to do everything like you are a child, Granger...get some shoes on."

Hermione grimaced at Draco's condescending tone and moved out of the bedroom and to the door to the suite to grab her shoes, black boots which seemed quite out of place with the rest of her outfit and Hermione expected what Draco would say next.

"And that won't do..."

With a wave of his hand, the shoes on Hermione's feet tightened slightly and she rose two inches in height. Gazing down, Hermione found that she was wearing a rather cute pair of toeless heels with straps wrapping around her ankles and held together by a serpent shaped silver clasp. Even though they were fashionable, Hermione knew that she could never be comfortable in heels...it hurt her so much more to wear heels because of her leg which was aching just enough to warrant a bit of attention.

"I'll need my cane," Hermione said more to herself than to Draco, and with another lazy flick of his wrist, Hermione’s cane came whizzing in from the sitting room, and knocked into her right hand. "My cloak?"

"You won't need it, we're Apparating. And...if the shoes bother you too much, charm them to flats. Italians are ultra aware of what shoes a person wears, believe it or not, and your rather Spartan boots would not do...it would be an insult."

Hermione stared at Draco as he moved to the French doors, gazing back at Hermione in the reflection of the glass. Grasping the silver head of her cane, Hermione leaned heavily upon it, the sudden addition to her height and her unfamiliarity wearing heels made her feel as if she were top heavy and unstable. Gingerly she stepped toward Draco, the heels clicking against the wooden floor of the bedroom. When she stood by his side, gazing back at Draco in the reflection of the window, Draco wrapped his arm about her waist.

"I'll be whole again, Granger...just you wait," he muttered under his breath just before Hermione felt the familiar compression take her body in the magic that was Disapparation.

* * *

With a sudden intake of breath, Hermione and Draco popped into a darkened, rather warm interior. It took Hermione a few moments to get her bearings back and she found that she and Draco stood in a kitchen of sorts. A single candle set upon a wooden plank table before a large fireplace where embers were glowing hotly below a cooking cauldron. Two high, stained-glass windows let in the dim evening light, casting green light on everything that was beyond the range of the illumination of the candle. Draco tightened his hold on Hermione's waist, flicking his wrist so that several more candles lit and revealed that the kitchen was some medieval throwback with stone floors, greasy and soot covered walls and smoked meats and dried herbs hanging from hooks dangling from raw log rafters. The scent in the kitchen was unpleasant, like burnt meat and spoiled milk.

"Stay close, Granger, Divina is about to burst through the door throwing hexes," Draco growled, pulling Hermione so that she stood behind his right shoulder. She slipped her wand from the concealed pocket in her skirt grasping her cane in her left hand and readied herself.

A series of crashes, loud curses and a bang of a door opening violently heralded the arrival of the master of whatever house Hermione and Draco had invaded. Draco spread his legs for leverage and as a particularly nasty bone melting hex whizzed past Draco's left side, Draco countered with an audible 'Protego,' and the bright red light of the curse deflected from Draco's spell and landed in the fireplace to Hermione's left.

"Divina!" Draco snarled at the figure that crouched in the doorway, and Hermione first thought she was looking at a heap of dirty rags, but soon recognized an old and withered face and deep blue eyes behind a grizzled beard and fuzzy gray eyebrows.

"Chi? Chi é?" a deep, booming voice called across the kitchen in slurred Italian.*

"It's Malfoy, you old codger, now lower your wand before I have to kill you!"

Hermione blinked, as the heap of rags seemed to float across the floor, grasp Draco by the ears, and pull his face downward so that he was bent over to look eye to eye with the old man. Upon closer inspection, Hermione found that Fabrizio Divina was a squat, fat old man, his long gray hair and beard hanging, in tangles, over his faded black robes that resembled more of a dressing gown than anything Hermione had ever seen. The hands that gripped Draco's ears were large and fat-fingered with an onyx ring on the smallest finger of his left hand.

"So it iz you..." the old man said in English, his accent still thick and his voice still commanding.

"Indeed Divina, You said you were expecting us...but did you expect that we would come to the front door in this sort of weather?" Draco hissed, jerked his head out of Divina's grasp and standing upright.

"It iz the wards...they are tuned to detect the Muggles," Divina said with a growl stepping back from Draco and fixing his old eyes upon Hermione. "She iz a Muggle."

Hermione did not like the tone of the old man's voice when he said this, and grasped her wand and cane tighter in her hands.

"She is a witch, Divina, what sort of faulty wards do you have?" Draco growled, stepping past Divina to look at the food stuffs on the table and turning his nose up in distaste.

"She iz Muggle..."

Hermione blinked in panic as Divina pulled his wand, a short one of red alder, and pointed it threateningly at Hermione.

"I hate Muggles, filthy, uncouth, rude Muggles," Divina growled, his eyes passing over Hermione as if she were something horrid.

"Damnit, Divina, open your cloudy old eyes! She is a witch, a Muggle-born witch, but a witch! And she is with me and under my protection, and if you harm a hair on her head I will let drop your name to the authorities in Rome..." Draco snarled, his eyes darting from the squat old man and then to Hermione.

"You wouldn't!" Divina whined, forgetting about Hermione and turning to Draco as if he were about to beg on his knees that Draco be merciful.

"I would. You are wanted by the Italian, German and British Ministries, but I would think the Italian authorities would want to know that you are still in their jurisdiction when you should be exiled to some awful place."

Divina opened his mouth once and Hermione could see greenish teeth in the man's mouth and closed her eyes as the smell of his breath assaulted her senses.

"She can stay. You are as mad as ever, Malfoy, for bringing her here...when you know how I hate them..."

"You liked Severus well enough, and he was a half-blood," Draco drawled, walking back to Hermione and nudging her arm so that she could slip her wand secretly back into her pocket.

"Half-blood iz good...old, noble blood. I am not as bad as some, but I still do not like theze Mudbloods... sangue sporco, sangue disgustoso..." Divina spat.*

Draco sighed, and glanced at Hermione in a manner that was not consoling in the least. In in fact he seemed to grin at Divina's words.

"Ah, Divina...but you don't even know who she is...and if you did, you would not be so cross."

"Who iz she then? Your trollop?" Divina snapped, and Hermione wondered if the old man was consistently nasty to everyone he encountered.

Draco began chuckling as Hermione began to feel more and more like a prize horse on display, but before Draco could answer, Hermione spoke for the first time.

"Hermione Granger, Signor Divina...Potions Mistress and proprietor of Longbottom Apothecaries," Hermione said proudly, sick of being degraded by both men and taking the initiative to make herself known.

Neither man said anything for a moment, Draco smirking, and Divina gaping.

"Her-Hermione Granger? The apprentice to Snape? The Potions Mistress who cured lycanthropy?"

"The one and the same," Draco answered, "Now, don't you think you owe my companion an apology, Divina?"

Hermione opened her mouth in question, but was suddenly dumbfounded into silence as the old man rushed toward her, grasping her hands in his and kissing the tops of her palms all the while going to his knees. She grimaced, thinking that she would really need to wash her hands after this, but was more curious to know why a sudden change of heart had forced Divina to begin to kiss her feet. Hermione gasped as Divina bent down, but was saved when Draco grasped the old man by the nape of the neck and pulled him up. In truth, Hermione half considered fending off the old man's attentions with the silver tip of her cane.

Back on his feet, Divina took Hermione's hands again, her cane dangling in her left hand, and it was then Hermione saw the tears in the old man's eyes. "My sincerest apologies, Signorina, had I known, I would have cut out my tongue before I say those awful things... What can I ever do to erase those words?" Divina said in a sob, his deep voice strained by his tears.

"I..." Hermione began.

Draco growled. "This is not why I came, Divina...my arm! My arm, damnit! I want that first before you plunge into your explanations and apologetics!"

Hermione frowned--Draco was just as spoiled as he had been as a boy, it seemed. Divina frowned, but quickly shrugged and squeezed Hermione's hands in his paw-like ones warmly.

"It iz in the other room, I bring it," Divina answered, smiling quickly to Hermione before releasing her hands. The old man shuffled off through the kitchen and as Hermione watched his back, she realized that he was more stooped over than short, and then she felt the pieces begin to fall into place. The old man was a werewolf, or had been in the years before she and Severus had developed the potion that literally cured the effects of the disease that had afflicted so many.

Hermione turned and glanced about the kitchen, hoping to find a kettle of water to scrub her hands, and when she saw none, pulled her wand out, and cast a quick cleansing charm on either hand. Just as she pushed her wand back into her pocket, Divina returned, a small wooden crate under one arm and a bottle of wine in the other.

"I apologize for the dirty kitchen, my house elf died two weeks ago and left no one in his place," Divina said passively, placing the crate and bottle on the only clean spot on the plank table. Then, pulling his red alder wand from his faded robes he cast several spells to tidy the table, conjure chairs, glasses, and dispel the smell of spoiled food from the kitchen. The fire in the hearth roared to life and the filthy ambiance of the kitchen was gone and replaced with something far more comfortable to Hermione.

Divina smiled at Hermione and gestured for her to sit on one of the wooden chairs he had conjured out of thin air. Hermione nodded and moved to the table, ignoring Draco who had been pacing back and forth the kitchen impatiently. When she sat, placing her cane across her lap; Divina opened the old bottle of wine, and began pouring out the dark liquid into the three glasses on the table. Passing Hermione a glass, the old man sat down, still smiling, which made his ugly, old face much more pleasant to view.

"Come, Malfoy, I bring your artefact."

Draco, who had seemingly not noticed any of what had gone on at the kitchen table, huffed and fell into the vacant seat across from Hermione, and to the left of Divina. Hermione held her glass, waiting as Divina passed Draco a glass. When all three had their glasses, Divina raised his and said, "Salute." Draco did not follow suit but swallowed his wine in two gulps, slamming the glass down on the table and gazing coldly at Divina. Hermione sipped her wine, following the old man's lead, and glanced at Draco out of the corner of her eye.*

"Let's dispense with the pleasantries, old man. I paid for this handsomely, now I have come to collect," Draco snarled.

Divina nodded, "I am putting my faith in you, Malfoy, that all my money will be in my Swiss account by morning."

"Of course, now let's get on with it!"

Hermione set her glass on the table and openly scowled at Draco. She had been unfairly judged only moments before by their host, but was now being treated as she deserved. As far as she could tell the old man, despite his prejudices, was a gentleman notwithstanding his haggard appearance. Divina rose from his seat and placed his two large hands on the lid of the crate, prying it free.

"I warn you, Malfoy, this iz no regular artefact...with its use comes a price."

"I know that, Divina, and I am prepared to take the risks."

Hermione blinked. "What risks?"

Draco chuckled, snatching the wine bottle from Divina's side and pouring himself another glass. With the glass full, Draco summoned a loaf of brown bread and a roll of pungent cheese from a cupboard near the door to the kitchen. Hermione wondered momentarily how familiar Draco was with Divina's kitchen, but she remembered that Severus had noted in his diary that they had spent several weeks in Divina's house, and she could only assume that this was the same house.

"This..." Divina answered, pulling a long silver object out of the straw packing of the crate and presenting it for Hermione to see.

It was a silver arm that looked more like a combined pauldron and gauntlet of a suit of armor. All along the surface of the arm were runes and markings that Hermione had to narrow her eyes to see clearly in the candlelight, but no matter how she narrowed her eyes, she could not focus enough to read the runes...they moved across the silver metallic surface like letters suspended in slow moving and cloudy molasses.

"This iz an arm that iz said to be been forged in the fires of Etna, by the god Vulcan...é vero...the arm iz that old, from the time of Greek colonies in Sicilia. The arm iz dark magic, but not so dark that I could not have kept it in my family without losing it during the Purges..."*

Hermione smirked. Divina was of old Pureblood lines, and the 'Purge' he mentioned referred to periods in magical history when men tried to eradicate all things Dark. The Purges happened often in Italy, especially where the magical realm and the Vatican realm coexisted so closely, albeit separately, that the same doctrines and ideals between both societies. There were many magical artefacts lost during the Purges of the tenth, twelfth and fifteenth centuries, just as much literature, art and music had been destroyed for being too heretical or too controversial.

"But the risks? If it is not a 'dark' item, then what?" Hermione asked, much to Draco's chagrin, for he was gritting his teeth and about to shout at her to stop with her questioning.

"The arm iz like a parasite, it uses a wizard's magic to appear like a true arm and as a...una bacchetta...a wand. It demands a wizard be powerful and it will compensate for the energy used in order to protect the wizard, heal him with its own power... But a wizard must be powerful, strong; if not, the arm will devour the flesh and energy and kill the wizard. Vulcan's arm has a spirit and a will of its own at times. The last wizard to wear the arm wore it to increase his power, in the end the arm killed him...the arm iz not really 'dark' nor iz it 'light.' It just iz...and wants only power, but by fair means."

Hermione frowned, she was not sure if she understood. "Let me get this straight...this arm, Vulcan's Arm, is a sentient artefact that feeds off a wizard's innate magical energy, but in turn acts like a capacitor or a wand and can protect a wizard who is more or less 'worthy' enough to wield this arm?"

"Si, but it iz fickle. It wants power, but not evil. It wants charisma, but not megalomania. The creator, Vulcan… who knows...did not make this arm for dark purposes."

Hermione's eyes widened. This arm would kill Draco if he put it on, wouldn't it? Draco was mad...but then again, was he evil? It was then Hermione began to wonder if Draco Malfoy had been playing her for the fool in some way. He either was mad and did not care if Vulcan's Arm devoured his body and soul, or he was stringing her along so that she would believe he was mad and really was not. He was a megalomaniac, wasn't he? Or was he just still just a spoiled brat? Hermione worried her lower lip between her teeth.

"Enough history, Divina, give me the arm," Draco muttered, reaching out his right hand toward their host. Hermione closed her eyes as Divina hobbled around the back of Draco's chair, holding the metal arm out from his body as if glad to have it gone from his presence. At the sound of wool scrapping lightly over flesh, Hermione opened her eyes. Draco had pulled off his sweater, ruffling his hair so badly that the throng that held his hair fell loose and silvery strands of hair fell across his shoulders in a cool wave. Divina was standing at Draco's left side, holding the silver arm so that Draco could easily slip his maimed left arm into the darkened recess in the hollow of the prosthetic.

"This might be unpleasant, Malfoy," the old man warned as Draco took a hold of the heavy silver with his right hand and began to slip the stump of his left arm inside.

The effect was instantaneous and Hermione gasped, grasping the edge of the table ready to stand at a moment's notice. As Draco slipped his arm inside so that the silver encased his arm to the shoulder, he gasped as well, the cold of the metal startling him. In a blink of an eye the silver, which seemed as solid as any metal, began to liquefy and move.

Divina stepped back, his old blue eyes watching grimly as the silver seemed to pierce Draco's skin upon his shoulder, producing copious amounts of blood that soaked into the moving runes that coated the silver. Draco winced, but made no sound as the cracking of bones filled the room. Hermione rose to her feet, pulling her wand from her skirt, letting her cane roll from her lap to clatter to the stone floor, ready to begin healing Draco or try to stop the arm from morphing and burrowing into the muscle and bone of Draco's left shoulder.

As the silver began to harden, it began to heat visibly and it was then Draco groaned, his right hand grasping the silver arm as if he wanted to rip it free from his body. There was more blood and the smell of burning flesh and Hermione rushed around the table as Draco began roaring, standing and knocking the chair back from the table. Hermione whimpered at the scent of blood and burnt flesh and tried to rush to Draco as the silver arm began twitching and thrashing out of his control. Before she could get another step closer, Divina grasped Hermione by the arms.

"No! This iz part of the price he must pay!" Divina snapped and Hermione's eyes flickered from Draco, who was gasping and panting to Divina, whose eyes had become brilliant and sharp, flashing a warning to Hermione to calm herself.

Seconds turned to minutes and with a final roar of pain, Draco collapsed on his knees beside the table. Hermione found that she too was panting and that in her blood she felt a subtle change and knew it had to do with the blood oath that connected her to the sweaty and pale man quivering on the stone floor.

"Is it over?" Hermione whispered to Divina who slowly released her arms.

Divina turned to Draco, grasping him under the arms with his large paw-like hands to stand him unsteadily on his feet. Draco swayed slightly as Divina lifted the wooden chair Draco had kicked over and set it down at the table to push Draco to sit.

"Look to him for a moment, Signorina, I will fetch salve and potions," Divina sighed, moving to the kitchen door and disappearing into the dark. Hermione bit her lip and moved to Draco's left side where Draco was holding his left shoulder with a splayed hand. He was still panting and his eyes were unfocussed, but he did not react when Hermione pulled Draco's hand away to assess his shoulder.

The silver of the arm seemed to have pierced Draco's shoulder in six places, long flexible extensions came from the cuff of the arm and cauterized the skin around the areas where it had seeped into Draco's tissue. The skin around the extensions was red and angry, but there was no blood. Looking closely, Hermione could see the dark of the silver just under Draco's pale skin, apparently attaching itself to the muscle and bone of Draco's ball joint. Scanning the rest of his shoulder, Hermione saw that the silver was still moving slightly, spreading along his skin so that it was attached like a parasite to his body.

The arm itself was still quivering and changing shape. Glancing at both arms, Draco's fleshy hand and silver hand resting upon his knees, Hermione realized that the arm was still changing shape to match the length and size of Draco's right arm. The silver smoothed suddenly, the runes disappearing from the surface, and the silver hand defined and elaborated itself to look like a smooth silver version of a human hand instead of a armor gauntlet.

"Draco?" Hermione asked softly, her concern evident in her voice.

"I'm fine...the arm has done its worst..." Draco panted, his voice revealing sudden exhaustion. Hermione was not convinced, however, that Draco Malfoy was anywhere near being 'fine.' His eyes were still unfocussed, staring into the fire on the other side of the room.

Divina returned, two phials in one hand and a small green glass jar in the other. Setting the corked phials on the table, Divina courteously pushed past Hermione and opened the jar of what she supposed was salve and began slathering foul smelling violet salve on Draco's cauterized skin. Hermione moved back to her seat, retrieving her cane from the floor and sat down so that Draco's eyes began to focus on her instead of the fire. He hissed as Divina slapped on more salve on the back of his shoulder.

"That fucking hurts, Divina, can't you be a bit more gentle?" Draco snarled.

"Has to hurt to heal, eh?" Divina chuckled, but Hermione could tell that the old man was shaken, for his laugh was unsteady and nervous.

"Whatever..." Draco muttered, his silver eyes beginning to focus upon Hermione's mouth, which was alternating between chewing her lower lip and forming a tight line of displeasure.

Hermione blinked as the salve seemed to absorb quickly into the skin, healing the peeling and red skin where the arm had cauterized the places it had penetrated Draco's flesh. Soon the skin was smooth scars, healing around the silver as if it were all Draco's original flesh and not some foreign body attached to him. When Divina finished, he replaced the cap on the jar and sighed, moving around the table to take his place once again at the table. With a flick of Divina's red alder wand, the crate in which Vulcan's Arm had been stored was vanished.

"Drink those phials, the pain will leave," Divina commanded, reaching for the bottle of wine and pouring himself another glass. Hermione nodded as Divina motioned to pour her another glass. Soon they sat in silence after Draco had downed two apparently bitter potions and began smiling as if he were drugged or drunk.

"Can you feel anything?" Divina prompted Draco, holding his wine glass between two fat fingers.

"A bit...like a tingling of my arm slowly getting circulation back...the pain is gone and the arm feels natural," Draco answered, his eyes still fixed on Hermione's mouth.

"It iz not heavy?"

"No."

Hermione sipped her wine and tried not to feel too uncomfortable as Draco sat hunched in his chair, his hair falling into his eyes which were still fixed on her lips. Was he in shock, perhaps?

Minutes passed and finally Draco lifted his new arm, stretching and raising it over his head, his eyes flickering away from Hermione's wine stained lips. When he lifted his arm, Hermione could see that the silver extensions had also pierced Draco's underarm, but the flesh there was also healed and only the pale underarm hair was slightly tinged with dried blood.

"Well then, are we going to have dinner, Divina? I am famished," Draco said conversationally, the shock of the moments before seeming as if they had never happened. Hermione sighed in a mixture of relief and annoyance. They were sitting in a kitchen and it was obvious there was no dinner to be eaten.

Divina chuckled heartily and Hermione could only smile tightly as Draco reached with his new hand to take his jumper and pull it on. Divina excused himself again, claiming that it would only take him a moment to be ready and left Hermione alone once again with Draco. Watching him pour himself another glass of wine, Hermione winced.

"You should not drink on top of the potions you just took," Hermione said quietly, gripping her cane in her lap. How Draco could be so calm after such a trauma was beyond her, not to mention the fact that he was now the owner of a somewhat Dark artefact that fed off his magical energy and could possibly kill him in the near future.

"I'll be fine. Do you have so little faith in me, Granger?" Draco said with a smirk.

"I have no faith in you, Malfoy."

Draco only smiled and took his delicate glass in his silver hand and sipped the dark wine slowly. Setting the glass down, Draco flexed his new hand and smiled like a child pleased with a new toy. "You look worried, Granger. Are you worried about me?"

Hermione huffed, taking up her wine and draining the contents. "I am more worried about what would happen if that arm killed you and what would happen to me...me who is bound to you by an oath. Obviously that ’artefact’ has also formed some symbiotic bond with you, I only worry that if it kills you, it will harm me through the oath we took in Japan."

Draco nodded. "A justified concern."

Hermione said nothing and stared at the candlelight reflecting off Draco's silver wrist. He would have to charm the silver to look like flesh if he wanted to pass through the Muggle populations unnoticed. That was one other concern atop many Hermione had when it came to 'Vulcan's Arm.' Another concern that was wriggling at the edge of her thoughts like a mouse in the jaw of a Kneazle was the fact that she had felt a subtle change in her bones when Draco had donned the arm. The blood oath which was ‘ever-present in Hermione's body and soul, manifesting itself like a constant unsettled feeling that could be ignored at most times, had changed...it had changed into the feeling that she now shared an oath with Draco plus one. If the arm was a sentient artefact, much like Tom Riddle's diary had been in her second year, she too was possibly susceptible to whatever side effects Draco would experience while wearing the arm. Then there was also the thought that Draco would have to wear this arm for the rest of his life whether he wanted to or not. All of these thoughts made Hermione very uncomfortable, but as Divina entered the kitchen again, announcing that they would Floo to 'the restaurant,' Hermione tucked her thoughts away for later consideration.

* * *

Fabrizio Divina, when properly groomed and dressed, reminded Hermione of some eccentric professor at Cambridge. His hair had been combed and pulled back, his beard trimmed neatly close to his square jaw and his eyebrows apparently tamed so that she could clearly see his dark navy blue eyes. He stood taller, still fat and heavyset, but as tall as Draco when Divina stretched himself to full height. He wore dress robes that accented his wide shoulders in navy blue velvet that matched his eyes. Even his teeth were cleaned, gleaming white but crooked in the candlelight of the kitchen. Hermione could barely believe this was the same man who had been so rude to her at first meeting and then so thankful to her only moments afterward.

Directing Hermione and Draco to the fireplace, Divina plucked a large handful of Floo powder from a broken terra cotta bowl on a meat block near the fire. Throwing Floor powder, Divina announced: "Ristorante al Vo'!"

Hermione balked slightly, wondering if she could even pronounce the name of the restaurant correctly, but she swallowed her nervousness and followed after Draco, trying her best to enunciate with her poor handle on the Italian language. With a swirl, Hermione tripped out of a fireplace and right into Draco's chest. Coughing and shaking off the minimal soot she had collected on her clothes, Hermione stood upright, leaning on her cane. They stood in an empty, darkened room, lit only by street lamps outside a window to Hermione's left.

Divina led them through the only door in the room and to the top of a set of stairs. Hermione could plainly hear the sounds of movement below and smell the scent of rich foods simmering in some pot somewhere. Slowly, descending, Divina spoke to an older man at the bottom of the stairs and quickly all three of them were led through a hot kitchen and into the main restaurant. The first thing Hermione noticed were the low, white plaster vaulted ceilings and the warm ambient light that lit the tables in the restaurant. There were only a few people still sitting toward the front of the establishment and the old man, whom Divina kept calling Signor’Antoniolli, led them to a table toward the back of the restaurant. Finally seated, with Divina to her left and Draco to her right, food was immediately brought out for them as well as wine and crusty breadsticks.

Dinner was scrumptious, three courses beginning with an antipasto of gnocchi and cheeses or polenta, a course of meat and vegetables, and a desert of fruit in thick liqueur sauce. All the while, they ate in silence, Divina eyeing the Muggle patrons in the front of the restaurant with clear distaste. When the other patrons left, being kindly ushered out by the waiters, Divina spoke to Hermione softly.

"I would like to apologize, Signorina Granger. I was very rude to you, and had I known who you were, I would have never said those awful things. I am an old man, set in my ways, and I would not like for you to think that I think less of you for your Muggle heritage. I have many reasons to be wary of Muggles, and the wards on my home are due to having Muggles somehow thinking my house iz abandoned and a place for young people to gather..." Divina explained over a glass of wine.

Hermione nodded, not really wanting an explanation for she had the feeling that if she and Severus had not found a veritable cure for Divina's condition he would treat her poorly despite her being a witch. She had grown unfortunately accustomed to the fact that her heritage was something most people overlooked due to her status in the Wizarding world; it was simply something she would always have to deal with in her life.

"I am very happy to meet you, although the company you are forced to keep is less than desirable..." Divina intoned, glancing at Draco who was munching on a breadstick and dropping crumbs onto his jumper. "I have played my part, but I would like to speak with you...as a friend someday. I do hope that you forgive me."

Hermione smiled. It was always a pleasure for her to meet a person who had been changed for the better due to her and Severus' efforts, and to meet someone as grateful as Fabrizio Divina overruled any wrong done. "Of course," she answered softly, glancing again at Draco, noticing that his face was flushed from too much wine.

"I should tell you, Signorina, that you should be very cautious around our companion. I am sure you know this already.

He has taken on a great danger by wearing 'il braccio di Vulcan,' and it could destroy him. He iz arrogant and brash, but he should not underestimate the power of an artefact forged by the gods. The darkness in his heart could cause great harm if it iz ever let out..."*

Hermione blinked. "But you gave it to him anyway."

Divina nodded and frowned. "If my situation were more secure, I would never have given him 'il braccio di Vulcan,' but at present I am a pauper, wanted by the authorities for things I did in my youth...and my family's name iz not one to inspire much sympathy with any wizard. I am a despicable man, and I will pay for my transgressions in time...I did for a long while by tempting fate as a boy and becoming something that even Muggles feared."

Divina fell silent, his old eyes glassing over as he sipped the last of his wine. He said no more about himself and suddenly smiled.

"You are drunk, Malfoy?"

Draco swallowed the last of his breadstick and grinned. "Quite. Are you leaving us, Divina?" Draco asked as the old man rose from his chair.

"For now. The meal iz on me...all for letting me meet Signorina Granger and expressing my thanks."

Draco shrugged and poured himself half a glass of wine. Hermione knew that if Draco drank anymore she might have to carry him back to the hotel. She frowned and glanced up at Divina pleadingly.

"You do not know the way back...ah, my apologies again, Signorina," Divina whispered, reading Hermione's expression clearly.

Five minutes later, Hermione had her shoulders under Draco's right arm and Divina under his right and together they stumbled along the darkened street, Draco singing some strange ditty under his wine-scented breath. Hermione ignored Draco's foul lyrics and spoke softly to Divina.

"It is always so cold here?"

"Always, you are in the Alps, Signorina, it snows in summer high on the mountains..."

Conversation continued casually as they finally made it to Vicolo Colico and the entrance of the Albergo Accademia. Divina insisted that he help Hermione take Draco back to the suite, but at that point Draco snapped out of his song to tell Divina to go home and howl at the moon...at which Hermione jabbed the tip of her cane into Draco's foot eliciting a snarl. Making her goodbyes, hastily, Draco pulled away and followed Hermione to the lift. Pietro again was at the desk and Hermione wondered if the man worked twenty-four hours. Pushing a hesitant Draco onto the lift, which was quite different from magical lifts with glowing buttons and fluorescent lights, they soon arrived at their suite.

Finding no help from Draco, Hermione lowered the wards and unlocked the door with a simple spell instead of prodding Draco for the key. Inside, Draco stumbled toward the bedroom, his silver hand twitching slightly as if acting totally separate from Draco's body. Resealing the room, Hermione sighed. She was warm from the wine she had drunk and her leg hurt from bearing the brunt of Draco's weight and wearing two-inch heels. Kicking off her shoes, she moved toward the bedroom door, hoping that Draco was not being sick in the bathroom and she could soak once more in the tub. Glancing at the bed, Hermione found Draco sitting on the right hand side, just switching off the lamp on the bedside table, his jumper already in the floor and his trousers unbuttoned and falling off his slim hips.

Hermione moved to the bathroom where she closed the door and locked it, and began undressing, piling her clothes on the tiled floor without another thought. Soon she lay in a tub of steaming water, trying not to fall asleep. Ten minutes later, rising out of the water, Hermione wiped her eyes, wondering if she were truly drunk or if the steam was too thick for her to see clearly or both. Hermione padded from the tub and to the sink, running cool water from the facet into her cupped hand and leaned over to drink. All she wanted to do was find a nice warm towel, dry off, and sleep, but as she rose up, she noticed a strange figure behind her, reflected in the steamy mirror. She opened her mouth and began to turn, but a hand clamped over her mouth, a finger slipping between her lips and onto her tongue. The finger tasted like metal...

"Hermione..." he purred into her right ear, pushing back the dripping hair from her neck to taste the flesh of her throat.

Hermione froze feeling Draco Malfoy's nude body pressed against her wet back and the stiffness of his erect cock poking into her buttocks. She was tempted to bite down on the silver finger against her tongue, but knew it would do no good and she would only end up chipping her teeth. Draco suckled at her throat, his right arm curving around her waist and downward to her damp, bath water dripping curls. Coming to a sudden realization, Hermione jabbed her left elbow into Draco's ribs and immediately was free.

Running from the bathroom and into the dark bedroom, Hermione cursed to herself, realizing that she had left her wand in her skirt on the bathroom floor.

"Accio Wa-aaaaa..." Hermione wailed as she found herself being tackled violently to the floor, her head bouncing off the wooden floor and her teeth clacking together painfully.

Two arms rested on either side of Hermione's head and she could only stare blankly up into the silhouetted face of Draco Malfoy. Hermione's head ached as she allowed herself to be lifted upward and thrown onto the bed, face down. Stunned from her fall and the fall onto the bed, it took her several moments to realize what was happening. Draco was nudging her legs apart and rubbing the head of his erection over her nether regions.

Hermione bucked her body to kick Draco squarely in the chest with her right foot, sending him backwards, arms flailing, ungracefully into the floor. Hermione gagged as she felt a wave of nausea pass over her, rolling across the bed to land on the floor on wet feet. She rose to her usual height and tried sprinting toward the bathroom to lock herself inside, grab her wand and come out in her own time, hexing Malfoy within an inch of his life.

Once again, she was stopped before reaching safety as Draco Apparated just before her, blocking the door to the bathroom. In the light streaming from behind Malfoy's nude body, Hermione could see that his nose was bleeding profusely and left temple had a nasty bruise and swollen knot.

"Granger..." Draco hissed, his arms coming around Hermione's body like the jaws of a trap and Hermione found herself on the bed again, blood dripping from Draco's chin and onto Hermione's cheeks.

A static shock of magic passed through Hermione's body from the silver hand that grasped and pinned her right shoulder to the bed and Hermione found that she could only move her body sluggishly and that any strength she had to try and push Draco off her body had left her.

"As much as a struggle arouses me, it would be so much easier if you just gave up," Draco purred, his voice low and dangerous, his silver eyes flickering in the light from the bathroom.

"Leave me alone..." Hermione whispered, finding that she barely had the strength to speak.

Draco grinned, his teeth red from the blood that had trickled from his nose and into his mouth. He looked nothing short of evil in Hermione's frightened, amber eyes.

"No...I want to fuck you, Granger...and I'm not going to leave you alone...not anytime soon."

With that, Draco bit her lips, drawing blood as Hermione tried to scream and push him away. Draco only watched her through wide, dilated eyes, wanting to watch every expression that flitted across his quarry's face and imprint it in his memory forever. In the back of his mind, a hushed voice spoke to him, calling for blood, calling for sweat, and calling for the sweet nectar that was now fragrant in the air emanating from between his woman's thighs. His woman? Draco did not stop to pause, but licked at her ragged lips, relishing the taste of her dirty blood.

Yes...his woman, the voice insisted.


++++++++++++++++++++++++++



Translation notes:

*Who? Who is it?

*...dirty blood...disgusting...

*'Cheers.' 'Salute' is usually said as a formal toast, or 'chin chin' informally...imitating the sounds of glasses clinking. 'Salute' is also said in place of 'bless you' or 'pardon you' when a person sneezes...

*It's true...

*literally: The Arm of Vulcan... ^_^