The Unfortunates

It’s like I wrote to my beta regarding this chapter – it’s really important to be inspired when you write! As I wasn’t thoroughly so during the last chapter (which was not the best one yet, I willingly admit), things could have been better... But during this chapter I actually was quite inspired to write, so hopefully it shows and hopefully this chapter’s a good one!

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CHAPTER TWENTY: THREE’S THE CHARM


His Father really had too little faith in him, Draco had decided.

How could that old man even dare to insinuate that Draco wouldn’t handle this like a proper Malfoy? To say that he would “act rashly” – why, Draco had never done any such thing in all his life!

Well, okay, that wasn’t quite true; he had done a few stupid things whilst in the middle of an argument with bloody Potter, of course, and he had attacked and Obliviated a defenceless, older woman (Professor McGonagall, in fact) who happened to hold important information, and yes, he had on impulse invited Mira to come live at his home...

But honestly, for his Father to show such distrust for a few, simple mistakes made!

No, thought Draco as he set out that late afternoon, he would prove his old man wrong and do the right and rational thing; he would act the perfect Malfoy: A cunning, sly and yet irresistibly charming man stepping up to claim what’s his, and bugger the consequences.

It just so happened Draco had a fair advantage over his Father when it came to dealing with Lilly Barrette’s and young prostitutes: Draco was familiar with that environment. His Father, however, was not.

Sure, Lucius had made the occasional visit or arrangement – one couldn’t accuse a Malfoy of keeping away from offering women – but he hadn’t been as into the “concept” as his son had.

Draco, of course, knew how to worm his way through Barrette’s barriers; he was after all a young man very much in love (yes, in love!) with one of Barrette’s former girls. He knew what to do; he knew how to get through the door which his Father could not, and get his hands on that lying, cheating bitch Mira.

That lying, cheating bitch which Draco just happened to be obsessed with.

Gods, he was seriously wondering whether or not he would be able to control his anger once he found her. His Father had too been worrying about just that as he had told his tale: how would Draco take the news and, more importantly, how would he act?

“Don’t worry,” Draco had said to his Father, “I’m not a boy; I know how to deal with things.”

“I know you and Mira... well, you get along well, don’t you, Draco,” his Father had replied then, “and if you happen to catch the girl whilst in the middle of something quite intimate with the man she took off with, you might not be able to handle yourself. I have seen you angry, son; I will not have you behaving that way in public. Is that clear?”

“Stop worrying,” Draco had snarled to his Father, before departing.

Draco was determined to act the proper Malfoy.

Yet – if he did walk in on Mira doing something indecent with that man, a man who probably would turn out to be that hideous bastard, Mr. Granger, then there was no knowing where the diplomacy of the “proper Malfoy” would run off to for cover as Draco’s fury unfurled itself...

No. You’ll be decent. You can kill that man later, but not now – not in House of Lilly Barrette.

Alright. But kill him I will.

Sure. Do what you must. You’re Draco Malfoy, after all!

Draco smirked to himself as he entered Barrette’s. Yes, he was Draco Malfoy, wasn’t he? No one would stand in the way of Draco Malfoy... Perhaps they were hesitant to assist his Father, a man who had become rather edgy and grey as years had passed, but Draco... No, they wouldn’t resist him. He was the new Malfoy, the next generation; the one they all eventually would be turning to when aid was needed.

He was to be next in line for the role of the Dark Lord’s most trusted servant. He just knew it. After all, how could he not be, him being who he was?

Draco stepped up to the brunette, Hailie, by the bar and flashed her a charming smile.

“Mr. Malfoy,” she said, smiling back. “My, you lot just can’t keep away, can you?”

“I know my Father was here earlier, yes,” said Draco. Then, lowering his voice, he added, “And from the story he told me, he apparently made quite the fool of himself... am I right, Hailie?”

Hailie, who couldn’t suppress a squeal at hearing her name being uttered by the Draco Malfoy, replied: “Well, yes, Sir, your father was a bit tactless... But he doesn’t know Lilly’s ways, after all. He was insistent on seeing Mira! Though she doesn’t even work here anymore, she just dropped by to visit one of the girls, Mandy, but your father didn’t seem to take a hint...”

“Yes, yes,” said Draco, stopping her babbling, “I guess I should apologize for his behaviour. Now, I am quite a different case, as I’m sure you know. I mean, I know Mira doesn’t work here anymore, I’ve made my peace with that... But still I would very much like some company, you know?”

Deciding that Hailie would be the perfect choice, her being as stupid and naïve as she was, Draco finished this sentence with a knowing smirk.

“Oh, absolutely!” smiled Hailie back, beaming. “I’ll have a word with one of the –”

“No,” interrupted Draco, “not one of the girls, Hailie. You.”

He locked eyes with her.

“M-me?” she spluttered. “Why, do you – are you serious, Mr. Malfoy? Would someone like you really like to... oh my!” She squealed yet again.

“What do you say?”

“I – of course! Oh, I’d be honoured, to tell you the honest truth! Oh, but I’ve barely even looked myself in the mirror today, I’m sure I look a right mess...”

“You look stunning,” lied Draco with conviction, reaching out his hand to caress hers over the counter. “Shall we...?”

She looked, eyes wide, down on their hands at the counter, then back up to his eyes. “Of course,” she whispered, her smile never faltering. “Of course, Mr. Malfoy, I’m sorry; I’m just so excited about... well, just – I’m sorry.” She smiled apologetically.

“That’s alright, love,” said Draco, smirking as she quickly gave instructions to another girl behind the bar before rushing out to meet Draco. She reached out her arm, he took it in his and together they made their way across the room and through the door which Draco’s Father had actually been denied entrance to only hours earlier.

Draco couldn’t suppress his triumphant smirk.

Oh yes. He was certainly the next generation’s Malfoy.

As they stepped through the door to the corridor on the other side and then up a flight of stairs, Hailie’s behaviour changed noticeably: From being the stupid, giggling barmaid she now became the stupid, clinging prostitute who struggled to force her tongue down Draco’s ear as he desperately tried to think: Do I know which room she would be in?

He wanted to scream at Hailie, begging her to get of so he could think straight, but that wouldn’t be very wise at all, as he needed her in order to stay on this side of the door.

“So, which room’s yours then, love?” he asked her sweetly, wrapping his arm around her waist to make his act complete.

“That one there,” said Hailie, pointing to the one second from the left. “Shall we...?”

“You know what,” said Draco, a smirk forming about his lips, “you go ahead. I should hate to think you were treated any worse than Mira – and I always brought her something nice before we began. You go ahead, and I’ll be right back.”

“You can’t get back into this corridor without me, Mr. Malfoy, so –”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure they saw me enter with you,” said Draco dismissively, growing impatient. “Go ahead, Hailie, I’ll be right there...” He pulled her close for a quick, passionate kiss (that he really got nothing out of) and pinched her arse playfully before pushing her off towards her room.

Giggling, Hailie was convinced and ran to her room, winking at him as she entered it and closed the door behind her.

Finally; she was off his back. Now Draco could do what he’d really come here to do: Find Mira Gideon and bring her home.

How dared she run off without telling anyone? And here, of all places! And, as if that wasn’t enough, she’d disappeared into this corridor with a man Draco seriously suspected was Mr. Granger, and that was definitely not acceptable. He needed to make sure she understood who she was working for...

Scanning the corridor, Draco saw six identical doors. Save for the one he knew Hailie was behind, he had no idea which of them led where. So there was only one thing for it: He would have to try each and every one. If that was what it took for him to find Mira, then so be it.

She had never returned to the Manor, so his best guess was that she was still here at Barrette’s, entertaining this blasted Granger. And if she was, Draco would find her...

Determined, he made his way to the first door on the right, turning the handle and wrenching it wide open.

---

Hermione pulled back, breathless, and caught Snape’s gaze.

She decided then, to her own, great surprise, that she could hardly go on calling him “Snape” anymore.

“Sir,” she smiled, as he leaned his forehead against hers, “a thought just struck me.”

“Yes?”

“Do you really need me to keep calling you ‘Professor’?”

He smirked at that and gave her lips a quick, impulsive kiss.

“No,” he said. “No. Do not ever call me that again.”

A grin. “So, it’s Severus from now on then, is it?”

He smiled then, a genuine smile, and though it looked unfamiliar it wasn’t a bad sight; not at all. He was in fact quite handsome when he smiled, though not at all as intimidating as usual.

“Severus it is,” he confirmed.

Hermione couldn’t help but smile back. It felt as though they’d really settled something now; there were no more doubts... Though no specific words had been uttered on the matter, they had certainly reached an understanding: they liked each other, and – well – they wanted each other... It was a fact now, right?

Who would ever have thought? It’s Professor Snape, for the gods’ sake!

“Strange,” she said before thinking.

“What is?”

“I just... It struck me that I just snogged my Potions Professor.”

Severus snorted, but it was an amused snort.

“Do you regret it?” he asked silkily.

“I don’t quite know,” said Hermione, tilting her head slightly. “It’s been a few seconds now; I don’t think I really remember how you kiss... Perhaps I’ll just have to check again to be sure.”

“Far be it from me to contradict the know-it-all of Gryffindor,” he smirked, and leaned in to kiss her again before she even got a chance to do so herself. It felt so good – wonderful, in fact – and Hermione willingly opened her mouth as she felt his tongue lick at her lips. Responding to his kiss with intensity, she barely registered how they were backing up against the bed, and neither broke the kiss even as they fell onto it, immediately allowing their hands to roam each other’s bodies once they’d settled.

He was running his hand through her hair, across her throat and down the length of her body, and it felt just as good as it had back when he’d been Tiberius Granger... And this time, Hermione was allowed to touch back! She marvelled at the feel of his arms and back, though lean he was still muscular and not at all skinny; the closeness and intensity of this embrace was unlike anything Hermione had ever felt before. It was as though it healed all the bad things in her life – took away the Malfoys and their torment, took away those six, shameful months...

For some reason, when Severus was kissing her lips, throat, ear, none of that would matter any longer. It held no significance.

After a few minutes, he pulled away slightly to look at her. His gaze spoke of lust and curiosity, but it annoyed Hermione to no ends that he still looked guarded; there were so many secrets hidden there she simply couldn’t detect.

“What is it?” whispered Hermione, feeling a bit scrutinized under his gaze.

He gave in to a small smile.

“Nothing,” he replied. “I was simply looking at you.”

“Why? Don’t you know how I look after almost seven years?” She winked.

“Seven years throughout which I have seen you as nothing but a very annoying and troublesome student,” he retorted silkily. “The tagalong of Potter and Weasley, as it were...”

He suddenly stopped dead; it looked as though he realized he had just mentioned Ron, whose fate no one knew... Was he afraid he’d offended her; hurt her? He looked as though he was completely at a loss for words.

“That’s a bit unfair,” said Hermione playfully, wanting to quickly change the subject, “seeing as how they tagged along me quite a bit, too. And anyway, do I look any different now from when I was a student?” Another smirk.

Though the question was almost a joke, Severus remained serious as he replied.

“Yes, you do,” he said gravely; his voice was almost... sad? “A lot different. You still have your face, your hair, your body... When you are not Mira, of course,” he added as an afterthought, “but all in all, yes – you look very different.”

Hermione remained silent, willing him to go on.

“You look... adult. Matured; perhaps I should say hardened by what you have experienced. No doubt it has taught you quite a bit, hm?”

Hermione sat up in bed, pulling him up with her. “Yes, of course I learned a lot from this, but... but that’s not a good thing, Severus – I mean, I would’ve given anything to have been able to escape these last months. It’s been... well, you know how it’s been, don’t you... You’ve been there before, right?”

He looked, if possible, even more guarded then; perhaps he dreaded that she wanted to talk about his past? She really had no need for that, not yet, but of course she was curious... And he had been experiencing things similar to what Hermione had, right? Back during the last war...

“Yes,” he said eventually, his voice quiet. “I guess you could say I’ve been there.”

“Severus?” Her voice was very quiet.

“Yes?”

“Why... why did you use my last name when you went looking for information? Forgive me for stating the obvious here, but what with me being on the ‘Most wanted’-lists and all it wasn’t the wisest of decisions to go about introducing yourself as Granger...”

He smiled then, a kind of sad, almost broken smile.

“You are quite right, of course, Hermione,” he said, sighing. His gaze drifted off as he continued his answer: “It was a risky pseudonym, and surely I could have chosen it more wisely, but...” He sighed again and paused, as though trying to figure out exactly what to say next. “But you’ve got to understand a few things about the time I have had; you see – when the Dark Lord’s victory was a fact, and Albus was dead and we were all fleeing for our lives, most of us separated, all of us in the dark... not knowing who and how many had survived, where they were and what to do... Well, of course you know the feeling,” he added harshly, “you experienced it yourself.”

“I did,” she confirmed quietly, remembering those lonely months.

“Well, even as the Rebels were formed and sought refuge at Killengreen, still I saw little or no hope for us.” He sighed, a slight nerve twitching in his left cheek. “I had already given so much of myself to this war, and I... The thought of continuing it further, and without Albus... Put simply I was rather pessimistic, to say the least.”

“And what’s that got to do with me?”

He smiled. “Always impatient, aren’t we.

“Though so many had been lost – dead or missing, who knew – at the final battle, it was you and Weasley who quickly became those best remembered, simply because you were Potter’s closest friends, and he was slowly breaking apart for the loss of you. You became martyrs, the both of you.”

“I wasn’t dead,” said Hermione, her voice almost breaking. “And Ron might not be either.”

“Of course, but who we were to know?” He paused. “In any case, you and the others who were lost became a source of inspiration. It is difficult to explain, but I must admit even I found some comfort in it... Lupin, especially, would mention you whenever there was bad spirits amongst us. He would talk about how you sacrificed yourself for your best friends, and how we were obliged to do the same, in your honour if nothing else.”

Severus blinked several times before continuing, but his eyes still looked as dry as ever.

“You, above all, Hermione, became my source of inspiration... Though Albus was dead and Minerva lost, they were old and had lived their long lives; but with you and the other lost students it was different. You were the future; or at least you were supposed to be. And you, Hermione, being the brightest witch ever to come to Hogwarts... The loss of someone like you was a true inspiration to us all, strange as it may sound.”

Hermione frowned. “Must’ve been a bummer when I turned out to be alive, then,” she said with a snort.

He gave a bark of laugh.

“Hardly,” he said. “A martyr coming back to life? Potter was beside himself.

But, well... to answer your question at last, when I was to go back out there, back into the world which I loathed, I somehow found that the use of your name would serve me with some help along the way. I do not know why, as you meant nothing of importance to me back then, but I guess it is as I said before – the martyrdom you suffered was an inspiration. It sounds a bit morbid to me, but it is a fact.”

He went quiet then, and neither of them spoke for quite a while. After a few minutes, Hermione reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his chest as they sat on the bed in silence. He immediately pulled her close to him, and she could hear him inhaling the scent of her hair.

The experience was somehow so caring, intimate and altogether overwhelming that Hermione felt her heart was almost fit to burst. It had been so long since anyone had held her and cared for her like that...

---

How could she possibly want this? How could she possibly want me?

Severus found no answers, yet he pushed the uncertain questions forcefully from his mind. Pulling Hermione closer to him, he decided he would not think of such things; it did him no good.

If she didn’t want him, she was free to tell him so.

He felt so rested and content with her, and yet, somewhere deep inside of him there lay a great, annoying pile of unease and hesitance. Where would this lead? Was he perhaps too old to even bother with involvements such as this one? What if he was just making a fool of himself, taking a chance with someone like Hermione?

Surely he didn’t deserve her, he knew this much. And surely she could find someone much better and younger than he, if she just tried... Even at times as dark as this a girl like Hermione wouldn’t have to be alone if she didn’t want to, of this Severus was certain.

So why had she chosen him?

Was she just playing around, seeking comfort in the one Death Eater in her life who was foolish enough to actually fall for her; to treat her properly and not like the common whore?

And Severus, being the idiot he was, had shared some very intimate facts with her that afternoon. He’d told her about the hopelessness he’d felt at Albus’s death and the Dark Lord’s victory, and about how Hermione’s martyrdom had helped him when nothing else would... Although the memory of her hadn’t been one of love back then, it had still showed signs of respect and admiration. Because Severus did in fact both respect and admire her, there was no escaping that.

She really could remind him a lot of himself, he mused, himself as he had been at her age... Just as keen to learn, just as stubborn and, in her own way, just as lonely. The only difference was, Hermione had actually managed to do something good with her life. She hadn’t turned to the Dark Lord in order to get revenge, and she hadn’t fallen for an evil man’s words of glory, triumph and power. No manipulation had reached her.

So no, Severus definitely did not deserve her.

Yet here she was, in his arms, holding him and telling him that she indeed wanted him. Not in so many words, perhaps, but he knew it... By the way she looked at him, the way she acted, and – well, she had kissed him, hadn’t she? She had reached for him, touched him, in a way no one had before.

After a long time of just sitting on the bed, holding each other, Hermione at last drew a deep breath and turned her head to look at him.

“I... I have to return,” she said hesitantly.

Severus’s stomach flipped at her words. He didn’t want her to leave. And still, he agreed quietly and without objection to her words: “Yes, you do.”

“I wish I didn’t, though,” she added, slowly standing from the bed.

“Nonsense,” said Severus. He too stood, and common sense reached him at last. She had to leave, of course. “You have been gone for far too long already. They will be wondering where you are.”

“Don’t worry, the house is empty all afternoon,” said Hermione. “What time is it?”

Severus checked his watch. “Half past five.”

“Half past – you’re kidding!” she exclaimed, her eyed wide. “We’ve been here for this long? Oh gods, I’m in so much trouble! They must have returned by now; they’ll know I’ve been away! I’ll just have to serve them some excuse...”

Rushing, she reached for her travelling cloak and her wand, flicking it as she did so to apply the various concealment charms again. Severus watched, almost amazed, as Hermione turned back into Mira the prostitute. Now that he knew who she really was, he could easily spot the similarities between her and Hermione. He even felt he could almost detect her on her body language alone; though she looked like Mira she still held her chin as high as only Hermione Granger could.

“I’ll contact you in not too long,” she told him as she put on her cloak. “I... I’m going to do some exploring at the Manor soon. I want to find out what this Claud in the basement is really up to.”

“It’s Claud Avery,” said Severus then, without hesitation.

“It’s – are you certain?”

“It cannot be anyone else. How often do you run into a foreigner named Claud who is associated with either the Dark Lord or the opposition?”

“You make a fair point,” agreed Hermione. “Okay, Avery it is then. I’ll try and figure out what he is up to.” She paused, then added, “Do you know him well?”

“Hardly,” said Severus through clenched teeth; his stomach flipped again. “At least... not so much anymore.” He pulled his own cloak around him and threw the hood up, concealing his face to the world again.

“Not so much anymore... what do you m–” began Hermione, but she never got to finish.

Because at that moment, the bedroom door flew open. And standing in its wake was none other than the infamous (and now, quite enraged) Draco Malfoy.


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A/N: Well? I hope you lived through that. Have no worries, everything will be resolved... I shall see to it. ;) And it’s definitely a sign that things are back to normal when I return to these insane cliffhangers of mine, ey? Thanks so much to my dear beta, JessiokaFroka! And, as always, thanks so much to my wonderful reviewers! Keep it comin\' - can\'t live without you, darlings!