Dirty Little Secret

Title: Dirty Little Secret
Author: lucretziathevagabond (Miss Jo1)
Rating : NC-17
Pairing: LM/HG
Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish that I owned the HP characters. Alas, I don’t. They belong to JKR, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, etal.
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Chapter 8: The First Strike against Skeeter

Malfoy Manor was awash with the sights and sounds of the season. Boughs of evergreen adorned mantels and the fragrance of pine filled the rooms. A massive tree lit with white lights and decorated with pine cones and quartz crystals was situated in the main parlor, and poinsettias dotted the entrance to the room.

Lucius was giving direction to the house elves as Hermione came downstairs, clad in a crimson gown with a rather daring neckline and a pair of fluffy slippers. Looking up, he grinned at the sight.

“Did you see the copy of Magical Elegance I left on the bedside table?” He asked as he pulled her into a waltz. She blushed, and turned her head into his chest. He laughed at her embarrassment as he moved them around the empty ballroom.

The magazine had contained several photos of Hermione at various fashion shows, and at the alchemy exhibit at the Louvre. The magazine had detailed each of her outfits, right down to the impossibly high heels she favored. The footwear was predicted to be the new “hot” fashion must for the spring, and she had already received numerous owls from various designers requesting private meetings. While flattering, she looked forward to when her contract was over and she could go back to being plain old Hermione Granger.

“I have been led to understand that we will have two guests here tonight who it may displease you to see. Mr Potter and Mr Weasley are apparently going to be coming to the ball tonight as guests for the Daily Prophet. I suspect the paper is hoping for some sort of confrontation to take place for tomorrow’s front page. Had I known in advance, I would have barred them. I have no desire for melodrama and will not allow them to bring petty rivalries to detract from the evening.”

Her face flushed in anger, and she pushed away from him. “How do you know Harry and Ron aren’t coming to see me? We are friends after all. It doesn’t all have to be about you. I’m sure they won’t make a scene.” He looked at her in disbelief.

“My love, those two men haven’t spent one minute of time with you in the past year. As far as making a scene, that is common behavior for them now. They are not the charming young men you knew during the war. I don’t want you near them tonight they will only bring you disappointment. ”

Her voice went shrill. “How dare you presume to tell me with whom I can associate! I may be a guest in your house, but that does not make me subject to your asinine rules.” She clearly wanted to say more, but the Duke and Duchess of Normandy entered, effectively cutting her tirade off.

“Monsieur, Madame, this is beautiful! The Duchess clapped her hands together as she gazed at the tree, deliberately ignoring the tension in the room and giving the quarreling couple time to compose themselves.

“Thank you, Madame.” Hermione stalked off to join her new friend at the window to watch the falling snow.

“We have come to inquire as to whether there are any minefields we must navigate tonight. We have not been to England in three years; we don’t want to offend anyone” the Duke said simply. He raised an eyebrow at his friend, and the blonde man sighed.

“We have a reporter from the Daily Prophet who is coming tonight, and she has the unfortunate luck to be have an Animagus form of a bug; a beetle to be precise. One must be careful in mixed company. The only benefit is that she is unable to hold the form for very long.”

“I see.” The Duke was obviously waiting for him to go on.

“Also, “ Lucius confided, lowering his voice, “two of Hermione’s former friends will be here tonight. She views them as friends, despite their virtual abandonment of her two years ago. I fear they will create a scene here purely to make headlines and without regard for their friend.”

“Their names?”

“Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter.” The older man’s eyes widened, then he turned to look at Hermione with a new respect.

“She was known as the strategist of the Voldemort resistance, was she not? I recognized her name when we met, but couldn’t remember why.”

Lucius nodded. “She was indeed the strategist, Hermione is a deadly combination of sharp intellect and raw power unusual in a woman of her upbringing. Unfortunately, as I’ve mentioned before, she is frequently thwarted in her pursuit of success by others claiming credit for her deeds.”

“I saw Ronald Weasley once at a charity event in Paris with one of our country’s top models. He never struck me as a man that could actually destroy a horcrux; his magical signature seems rather weak.”

“I think you know the answer to your unasked question.” Lucius looked grim. “Let me enlighten you as to how the so called Golden Trio was viewed by those in the pureblooded community. Potter was the brawn and Hermione was the brains.”

“What was Weasley known as?”

“The bloat. Lack of significant magical talent and full of hot air, so to speak. Utterly unnecessary.” Lucius smirked as the French aristocrat burst out laughing, drawing the attention of the women.

With a wave of his hand, Lucius summoned an elf. Moments later they were holding champagne flutes to toast with. The Duchess made the toast, “To love and magic”. Lucius reached for Hermione’s hand and squeezed. As they drank the bubbly beverage, they all hoped for a drama free night.
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Apparently, drama free was too much to hope for.

Potter and Weasley came crashing into the ball just as the French aristocrats were making their formal descent down the grand staircase. The assembled guests gasped with horror as a rather inebriated Weasley stumbled through the door accompanied by a rather pretty woman who looked to be almost as drunk as her date. Potter followed, looking sober and embarrassed. However, when the flashbulbs started popping, he flashed a dazzlng smile and ran his fingers through his hair attempting to make it stylishly messy. He took the piece of paper he was handed, autographed it with a flamboyant quill from his pocket and handed it back to a confused reception witch who was now holding a place card with Potter’s messy scrawl across it.

As the orchestra began to play once again, the Duke and Duchess completed their journey down the stairs. The assembled guests clapped at the presence of the guests of honor, and ignored the latecomers. As the Lord of the Manor and his escort began their descent down the stairs, whispers were rampant. Hermione began to blush at the attention and tried not to look mortified by her friends’ entrance. Ron had already situated himself at the bar, ordering in a loud voice that echoed through the quiet room, and Harry had at least kept quiet, although he was snogging his date enthusiastically during Hermione’s descent.

As the dancing began, Hermione began felt her self-consciousness begin to fade. In the first hour, she had danced with Lucius, then with the Duke, then with a charming wizard from Germany whose name she could never remember. The older man whirled her around the dance floor; his impeccable charm not diluted in the slightest by his rather cantankerous wife. Of course, as the Lord’s wife had begun to show her obvious pregnancy, one could forgive her short temper as being due to mood swings. Just as Lord Whatever His Name Was walked her back to her seat, she was intercepted by the Minister of Magic. Wordlessly he led her back to the floor.

“Good evening, Miss Granger” he greeted as he began to lead her into a waltz. She smiled, immediately on guard. Minister Shacklebolt had fought beside her in the final war, and he knew her fairly well.

“Minister Shacklebolt. I do hope you are enjoying yourself tonight.”

“I am, indeed. If I may be so bold, your romance with Lord Malfoy has become the talk of the community. I confess that I was surprised by your acceptance of a man with his history.” He watched her stiffen, and then hurried to clarify. “I don’t mean to say that I object; only that I was surprised that more hadn’t been heard about it before social season began.”

“Lucius and I prefer to keep our private life, well, private. I assure you, we had been dating for over a month before things became more public.”

“Lucius Malfoy is not a man known for his affectionate treatment of women. If he is hurting you or blackmailing you in any way, I can help you. I am aware that he insisted you take a sabbatical from your job to be his “date”. That seems very unlike you; your work ethic is rather well known.” Kingsley argued, casting a glance at the blonde man currently deep in conversation with Marchwood from the Wizengamot.

Her eyes narrowed,at the aspersions to Lucius. Yes, she was under a contract. However, that didn’t mean that the world needed to know; there were times that she forgot herself.

“Minister, I assure you Lucius isn’t blackmailing me into anything. Yes, I took a sabbatical to attend functions with him this season; however I am also taking the time to reassess my career path. I have spent far too many years in Experimental Potions for substandard pay and no ability to be promoted under Mr. Pegram. I need to assess whether my work at the Ministry, while noble in theory, is worth wasting my university education. I am a researcher, not a paper pusher.”

Shacklebolt scowled. “Miss Granger, before you resign, please come and see me. A hero of the last war should not be hidden behind closed doors. Perhaps a position in our Marketing Department would be more palatable, or one in education. Something more high profile, to be sure. The Ministry needs a face of intelligence and beauty; you would be more than qualified for both.”

“Minister, I cannot support a Ministry awash in corruption. A high profile position is not what I want. I merely wish to work in a job that is valuable and makes use of my talents. As for my role in the last war, you were only too happy to give credit to Ron that he didn’t deserve in order for him to become your poster boy.” Both spared a quick glance at the drunken young man rising unsteadily to his feet, and pushing away the woman draped over his lap. Kingsley’s face darkened.

“Miss Granger, are you insinuating my Ministry is corrupt?”

“I would merely ask why a man who is making a Ministry salary is able to afford fancy vacations and can drape his wife and mistress in jewels, while researchers are struggling to get functioning equipment.”

“I was led to believe Malfoy was going to fund a new wing.”

“I believe that may have been the original plan. However, it does him no credit to build a new wing if the researchers are unable to produce anything of value. Not to mention, he has no desire to finance Mr. Pegram’s next vacation home. Why should he reward failure?”

“I was led to believe there was no money available.” His grip tightened on her.

“Minister, last year I was able to personally get over 2 million galleons approved for the department. As I am only one of eight grant writers, I am willing to bet that number was at least tripled by the others in my department. I had intended to speak to Mr. Marchwood about it, but didn’t want to get accused of disloyalty. After all, I have no interest in Pegram’s job.”

“You don’t?” He looked surprised.

“Absolutely not. If Pegram is being underhanded, I don’t want to be the one to walk into a mess.” A noise from their left made them turn. Ron had passed out and had fallen off his chair. An elf appeared immediately to whisk him away. His date reached out to pat the elf on the head like a dog. Moments later, she was gone too.

The dance ended, and Hermione took the opportunity to make her way over to Lucius. He watched her approach with purely male appreciation, and stood to press a kiss to her cheek as he stood to greet her. After a moment of greeting, she made her way toward the Duchess of Normandy who was waving her over. She had just seated herself next to her friend and been introduced to the Duchess of Edinburgh when she heard her name called.

A screechy voice and unpleasant countenance greeted her as she turned toward the voice. Rita Skeeter was in front of her, clad in hideous sequined magenta robes and her trademark jeweled glasses, and dragging a middle aged woman with her.

“Miss Granger, how remarkably wonderful to catch you. My readers would love to hear how you feel this evening is going. It will be front- page news, you know. My readers have demanded more and more stories about you; the world wants to know how a rather plain and insignificant woman managed to snag our worlds’ most celebrated public figure. It’s all very Cinderella like, you know. Readers have been captivated by my theories. I have wanted to talk to you, an exclusive interview of course . However, you have not responded to my requests. It makes one wonder if you have something to hide.” A Qwik-Quotes quill came out, as well as parchment.

“Ms. Skeeter, I was having a private conversation.”

“Oh of course, I understand. But, it is just so important that I speak with you. Readers want to know; what is Mr Malfoy like in your intimate moments? Is he the sex god we all imagine him to be? I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that!” She giggled, clearly amused at her own wit. The woman next to Rita bristled.

“Madame, you forget your place!” the Duchess interrupted as she glared at the annoying reporter. The woman next to Rita burst into tears. The reporter’s eyes glittered with malevolence at the scene. The quill began to write furiously as she whispered into it. Then in a louder voice. “Miss Granger, may I introduce Lady Eleanor Rosier-Fudge. Lady Fudge is a very respected witch in magical society and was considered to be the escort for Lord Malfoy this season. That is, before he took up with you and your charms. As a result, she has missed every social event this season. What do you have to say to say to her?”

Lady Eleanor-Rosier-Fudge glared. “Despite your youth Miss Granger, you have absolutely no class or comportment. You are nothing but his whore; don’t doubt for a second that he will leave you when the headlines die down. I’m sure he passes you around to his friends for favors, you’re obviously not fit for anything else.”

The Quill was scribbling furiously, and Hemione fought to keep her composure and not rise to slap the woman. The Duchess of Edinburgh interceded, her brogue reminiscent of Hermione’s late Transfiguration professor.

“Lady Rosier-Fudge! It is highly improper to speak to Miss Granger in such a manner. Your presumption of your role as escort is actually rather embarrassing. Not to mention, to speak such in front of such a disreputable reporter. Have you lost your senses entirely?” Lady Fudge looked mortified, and Hermione realized the Duchess of Edinburgh was apparently the queen bee of English society.

Lady Fudge hurried away in a flurry of robes, and Rita followed her, now intent on getting a response. Lucius was making his way over to her, a concerned look on his face. With a bow and greeting to the ladies, he pulled her onto the dance floor.
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It was after two am when the party finally wound down. The Duke and Duchess had gone to their wing, and Lucius entered his quarters to the sound of splashing in the bath. Entering, he saw his witch floating in the bathtub, her hair spread around her like a halo. With a grin, he undressed before joining her in the water.

Her eyes opened when she felt the water move. Her eyes darkened before she closed them again.

“Lucius, I am so tired that all I want to do is sleep. My calves hurt, my thighs hurt and I just want to crawl into bed. How in the world can you be so randy after the night we’ve had?”

He watched her body float in the water, her breasts above the surface like soap cakes and grinned. Wading over to her, he pressed a kiss to her mouth before pulling her to him. Her body relaxed further as he wrapped his arms around her and allowed her to fall asleep in the tub. Rising, he carried her to bed and placed her under the covers gently. Crawling into bed as well, he wrapped his arms around her and fell asleep to the sound of her quiet breathing.
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The Morning Prophet was as unflattering as Hermione expected.

GRANGER ASPIRING TO PRINCESS OF THE BALL; ENDS UP A PUMPKIN

At the annual Malfoy Gala, held at the opulent Malfoy Manor, the main attraction was not the dazzling fashion or the famous faces. It was the aloof and uncaring behavior of Mistress to the Stars Hermione Granger.

Clad in a harlot shade of crimson, Granger was partnered with several men of high standing on the dance floor. As she flashed her ample cleavage to the male population, women watched in disbelief as she spent much of her time away from her alleged lover, the charming and wealthy Lucius Malfoy.

Refusing my humble request for an interview, Miss Granger seated herself next to a nameless French witch and the estimable Duchess of Edinburgh and refused to speak. In desperation, Lady Eleanor Rosier-Fudge (the escort to Lucius Malfoy that was cast aside when Miss Granger made her appearance) expressed her frustration at being overlooked and demanded an explanation from the morally-challenged woman. Instead of responding, she allowed the Duchess of Edinburgh to intercede on her behalf to scold Lady Rosier-Fudge for improper behavior.

Has Miss Granger sunk to a new low in her obsession with fame? In a press release from Lady Edinburgh, Miss Granger is described as “charming” and “intelligent”, with “a bright future ahead of her”. Has she managed to bamboozle the famous Duchess of Edinburgh?

In other news from the Malfoy Gala, Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter (Granger’s former lovers) arrived an unfashionable 45 minutes late. Weasley was so intoxicated he passed out within the first hour and had to be removed by house elves. For Potter’s part, he was charming as ever yet is beginning to appear to be well on his way to has-been status. Despite arriving with model Celestina , he went home alone whilst Celestina found a more agreeable companion in the form of Puddlemere Chaser Allistair Brooking.

Is this the end of the reign of the Golden Trio? Let me know what you think. –Skeeter, London.
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Coming up next: The end of Skeeter.