The Seduction Game

Disclaimer: All of the Harry Potter characters and the Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling/Warnerbros. I am making no money.

Another chapter coming... I\'m hoping I\'ve still got a few readers on this fic (I feaI loI lost a fair few when I had the very VERY long update break), so I\'m going to give it one more chance.. :)

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: THE LAST DAY


A heated debate was currently taking up the time of half the hundred-and-seventy Board members of St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

It was all about a gentleman who’d up until very recently been known as Lucius Malfoy. (Mind, he would probably remain known as Lucius Malfoy, but there was a fair chance that the name gradually would gain a whole new meaning.)

“He is perfectly capable of taking care of himself,” argued Mr Malfoy’s personal mediwitch. “I have seen it for myself – he is in quite a remarkable state! There is really no need for keeping him here.”

“That is not an answer to our dilemma, Mrs Pye,” said the Head of the Board, Mr Jonathan Rickspile. “Mr Malfoy may have gained full recovery – physically, that is – but he is still has no recollection of who he is. Sending him out into the world like that is simply irresponsible.”

“He – er – he does have a son, Sir,” said one of the Board members, absently scanning through a stack of papers.

“A son?” said Mr Rickspile.

“Yes, a Mr Draco Malfoy,” replied the Board member. “His only living relative, it would seem. Age: Twenty. Current residence: Unknown.”

Mr Rickspile groaned. “Oh, well done, Greg, you’ve managed to find him a relative whose current residence is unknown. Well, that’s very helpful, isn’t it?”

“We would easily be able to locate him,” said another Board member. “Draco Malfoy isn’t exactly known for his subtleties.”

“Do you know of this man, Mr Tipper?” asked Rickspile.

“Oh yes, my daughter went to school with him,” replied Mr Tipper. “Apparently, he’s quite the little confident young man. I doub wou would have any problems locating him, but – but there might be another problem.”

“And what problem is that, pray tell?”

“Mr Draco Malfoy is a homosexual, Sir.”

Mr Rickspile raised his eyebrows. They sat for a few seconds in silence, before Rickspile said, in a highly forced controlled voice, “And what has that do to with our dilemma?”

“Well – Mr Lucius Malfoy disowned his son when he learned about his sexuality,” replied Mr Tipper. “They haven’t spoken in three years. The chances of Mr Draco Malfoy wanting to care for his father are small.”

“Well, but if his father’s reformed, a new man –” Rickspile began arguing, but Mrs Pye broke him off.

“He’s been Obliviated, Sir,” she said annoyed. “Unwillingly, he’s had his entire personal memory removed. He is not reformed.”

“Well, we don’t know that yet, do we? Perhaps he is reformed. And either way, if he starts a new life, different to the one he was leading before this – ah – accident, then eventually he will be reformed.”

Ms Pye snorted. “I doubt his son will care much.”

“That is true, Sir,” said Mr Tipper to the Head of the Board. “The relations between father and son in this case have been very hostile. I am not sure whether Mr Draco would forgive his father, was he offered the chance.”

“We’ll never find out unless we try, will we?” said Rickspile dismissively. “Find this Draco Malfoy. And bring him here first, I want a – a personal word with him.”

The board members raised their eyebrows, but thought it best not to say anything. They did as they were told.

--

“Severus?”

“Hmm?”

“Severus, are you awake...?”

“I thought I told you not to call me that.”

“Not last night, you didn’t,” she said with a grin.

He drew a deep breath and opened his eyes. Oh yes, that was right – last night. He gave a content sigh and reached for Hermione to his left, pulling her into his embrace.

“You’re smiling,” she stated.

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are! You’re smiling even as you’re talking!”

“I am not. Now shut up or I shall make you shut up.”

Hermione didn’t speak again, and Severus allowed himself to continue doing what she’d accused him of doing – smiling. He couldn’t help it, he wanted to smile. It was inevitable. This was the most beautiful morning of his life. Never before had he woken up with such a wondrous feeling of content.

Her fingers were absently playing along his chest, and her head was rested on his shoulder. He just had to look down, to look at her... Gods, she was beautiful, more beautiful than she had ever been before, which was saying something.

Before, she’d been beautiful Hermione.

Now she was his beautiful Hermione.

Severus smirked. There was a certain difference to that, he mused.

They lay for a half an hour or so in silence, both awake, just holding each other. At last, it appeared as though Hermione couldn’t stand the silence anymore. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked at him.

Without so much as speaking a word, he reached a hand up to pull her face to him, giving her a thorough good-morning kiss. She finally drew away from him, smiling.

“Morning.”

“Morning.”

“What will you be doing today?”

“Well,” he said, stifling a yawn, “first of all I will be eating breakfast and having a shower. Then I suppose I shall have to pack. We are evicted by twelve o’clock today.”

“Evicted?” smirked Hermione. “Well, one can hardly blame them... I bet there’s lots to be done here when everybody’s left. I pity the soul who has to clean it all up.”

“You know,” Severus said, propping himself up on his elbows, “I think being a witch or a wizard in this case greatly eases the effort it is for whomever has to clear everything up.”

Hermione gave a short laugh. “Yes, well – naturally. But there’s still stuff to be done.”

“It is,” he agreed. “So, what are your day plans?”

“Pretty much the same as yours, I expect,” she replied. “At some point I have to return to my room and pack. Oh,” she groaned, remembering what was waiting for her in London, “and then there’s loads of paper work just piling up on my desk... Going away claims its price.”

“What sort of paper work?” asked Severus, frowning. He couldn’t understand how a brilliant witch like Hermione would be stuck behind a desk doing paper work. That was simply wrong.

“Oh, just files and registration forms, loads of boring stuff,” said Hermione dismissively.

“Exactly what is it you do at the Department of Magical Transportation?” he demanded.

“Just what I said – filing, filling out registration forms, the works.”

He sat up properly. “You are joking,” he stated bluntly.

“Of course not, why would you think that?”

“Because sticking someone like you behind a desk is a crime against nature.”

She blushed slightly at his discreet compliment. “Don’t worry, it’s not as if it’s a permanent career choice. It’s to get me through my studies.”

Severus let out a breath he’d been holding, notherihering to hide from Hermione that he was relieved. The thought of her ending up a Ministry clerk or something of the kind was enough to make him loose what little remainders of food there could be in his stomach at this hour.

“So what are you studying, exactly?” asked Severus, running a hand through his hair and looking around the room. They really should be getting some breakfast.

“Potions,” she replied with a smirk.

He turned his head to look at her.

She shrugged. “It fascinates me. Though I must admit that’s not all I study – but it’s my major.”

“I heard your lecture,” Severus stated suddenly, “but I am ashamed to admit it never occurred to me that with such extended knowledge of mind-deceiving potions you really would have to have been studying them.”

“Do you know a lot about mind-deceiving potions?” she asked with interest.

“Some, though I suspect no more than you. It’s an obscure branch, as I’m sure you’re aware; with, quite frankly, too many theories and too little facts for me to appreciate.”

Hermione smiled. “I think the research part of it is very fascinating.”

“Of course you do,” he smirked, “research is to you what oxygen is to the common wizard.”

--

All in all it had been – well, quite frankly – perfect, Hermione mused as she was back in her own rooms, neatly packing her robes back into the big trunk.

She’d spent the morning in Severus’s quarters, where they’d ordered a marvellous breakfast they’d enjoyed on the sunny porch, talking loosely about whatever was on their minds, just relishing each other’s company. The subject of what they were to do once he returned to Hogwarts and she to London had, it seemed, been carefully avoided.

Which left Hermione, in spite of her otherwise overwhelming feelings of content, a bit at a loss. Folding her dark green silk gown neatly away, she felt the steady growth of concern gradually causing a rather uncomfortable lump in the pit of her stomach.

What if her earlier suspicions had been correct? What if Severus really just did think of her as a – well – a “conference tt”?

Surely not. He really wasn’t the type, was he, to simply flirt around and bed virginal ex-students at random. No, he was no Lucius Malfoy. Hermione refused to believe he’d just used her.

And yet – what did he want? She had the feeling he’d been pointedly avoiding the subject all through breakfast, and when they parted (with nothing more than a friendly, chaste kiss, mind you) there’d been no mention of meeting up later or anything.

Somehow, Hermione had just assumed that once both of them were finished packing they’d somehow end up meeting up again. But now, that didn’t feel at all as natural as she’d thought it would.

Ever since their clothes found their way back onto their bodies, a strange air of formality had been surrounding the Professor and his ex-student again. Suddenly they were talking science and potion brewing, drinking tea from cups with their little fingers curled and practically bowing on departure. It all felt so wrong – weren’t they supposed to be all cuddly and flirty? They’d had sex the night before, after all, and it had been wonderful.

Oh yes, thought Hermione, it really had. Even more brilliant than she’d ever anticipated, and Severus had more than done his part. So why this tension now?

She slammed her trunk shut and took one last look around the room. Nothing seemed to be left behind, and reluctantly she pulled out her wand and levitated her trunk, guiding it through her chamber door and out into the corridor.

There was no sign of Severus there. All around her witches and wizards were buzzing about with luggage and garments, clearly stressing to finish their packing.

On her way down to the reception, Hermione rato tto the Weasleys, who amongst them were heaving no less than five trunks.

“We’ve – got – Ron’s – too,” panted Fred, who, along with George, was dragging three of the biggest trunks heavily across the beautifully carpeted floor.

“Left – in such a hurry,” added George, wiping his brow with his sleeve, “didn’t – get the time – to pack, he didn’t –”

“Why don’t you simply levitate them?” asked Hermione curiously, shooting a glance at her own obedient trunk, which was hovering alongside her.

“Stupid chaps left their wands at home,” said Mr Weasley, whose trunk was floating just ahead of him. “Brought their fake ones instead, from the shop – you should have seen their faces when they flicked them and they just turned into grey rubber mice!”

George gave a snort, which served him a nasty glance from his mother.

“So that’s why we’ve decided not to magic their trunks for them,” barked Mrs Weasley sternly, clearly not at all as amused as her husband. “This ought to teach them a lesson or two about that stupid joke stuff of theirs –”

Hermione and the Weasleys checked out at the reception and brought their luggage outside, heaving it all onto the giant steam train that stood there waiting to bring them and numerous other witches and wizards into the Muggle town of Malaga. They found an empty compartment and enjoyed a highly entertaining train ride, which finally ended as they pulled into the train station in Malaga and parted friendly, as the Weasleys were going by portkey whereas Hermione wastingting on a Muggle aeroplane.

A lot of magicians thought it strange that a witch, and especially such a talented one as Hermione, would be travelling by Muggle transportation. The thing was, she really enjoyed it.

She couldn’t stand the dirt that came with Floo travelling, and the dizziness that went with either Apparating or travelling by portkey was just avoided whenever possible. And as Hermione preferred her feet on the ground, rather than in the air dangling underneath a broomstick, she had decided that going by Muggle aeroplane in the end was the best solution – and it only took a few extra hours of travelling.

One last look around at the train station confirmed her theory – she would indeed not be seeing any more of Severus Snape that day.

--

Severus, his face caught up in concentration, was blissfully unaware of his dear Hermione’s doubts. His entire attention was at this moment focused on the empty bed before him, and on what had been in it.

If it hadn’t been for Albus, Severus might never have known about it. There would217;217;t have been a reason for anyone to inform him of this – unexpected – occurrence. But Albus, bless him, knew Severus would probably want to know, and so he had alerted him and asked him to Apparate straight to St Mungo’s that very afternoon, leaving his luggage – which was too big to Apparate with – at the IMG’s Manor to be picked up later.

“When was the last time anyone saw him?” Severus inquired the mediwitch.

“Honestly,” she snapped, casting an angry glance in Albus’s direction, “I don’t see how this is any of your business!”

“Severus was an old friend of Mr Malfoy’s,” Albus stated cheerfully.

The witch snorted, but calmed and returned her gaze to Severus. “I hadn’t checked on him since last night,” she said finally, through clenched teeth. “The Board had called in an emergencytingting in regards to Mr Malfoy’s state of mind. Being who he is – or rather, was – it was a bit of a dilemma to decide what to do with him.”

“What to do with him?” echoed Severus. “He had no recollection of who he was! How could there be any question of what you were to do with him?”

“We have been trying to locate his son,” stated Mrs Pye bluntly.

“Draco?” Severus raised his eyebrows.

“You know him, do you?”

“Well, I know the father, so yes, naturally I know the son.”

The mediwitch snorted again. “Well, wee goe going to offer him the opportunity to nurse his father back into shape, perhaps make him a new man, as our Head of the Board put it...” She sounded as though she thought this a very unlikely outcome. “But it appears we no longer need worry about that,” she added, glancing towards Lucius’s now empty bed.

“Do you know how he might have escaped?” asked Albus calmly.

“I don’t see how it could’ve happened,” said Mrs Pye, throwing her arms out in exasperation. “With no personal recollection he naturally knew no spells that could transport him out of here, and no one save the Board members knew where he was located.”

“Well, he might have just... strolled out,” said Severus with a hint of irritation in his voice.

Mrs Pye narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll have you know someone would have noticed that,” she said irritated.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Mrs Pye,” said Albus, raising a discreet hand to calm Severus down, “what are you saying, exactly? That Mr Malfoy flew out of the window?”

“I am saying,” said Mrs Pye, stressing every word carefully, “I think he got help from the outside. From whom, and for whatever reasons, I don’t know.”

Severus groaned inwardly.

Lucius Malfoy vanishing from his hospital bed was not a good sign, no matter how Obliviated the man was. There was something very disturbing about the idea that a man with absolutely no personal being left in him would just decide he wanted to be somewhere else and then decidedly go there, simply vanishing from under the noses of over two hundred hospital employees’...

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There we are - as always, I\'d love reviews!!