Catalyst

“So, Miss Granger, tell us about what it is exactly that you do.”

The unlikely foursome of Lucius, Narcissa, Draco, and Hermione were seated around a giant table in the expansive dining room on Malfoy Manor. Lucius had just finished quietly terrifying one of the house elves that had unwittingly violated one of his numerous rules of serving etiquette, looking up at Hermione’s shocked face and rolling his eyes conspiratorially. “He’s new,” he explained as the little elf ran shrieking from the room and a deafening crash sounded from the adjoining kitchen.

Hermione turned to Narcissa. “Actually, I work in the department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,” she gave Lucius a stern expression, “ensuring that the rights of our magical brethren are not infringed upon.”

Lucius looked unrepentant and slightly defiant. Draco looked uncharacteristically nervous. Narcissa, on the other hand, was either oblivious to the tension or choosing to ignore it. She beamed at Hermione.

“How marvelous!” she began, looking genuinely delighted. “I always told Draco that he would be better off with someone more independent. He would never be happy marrying a woman who wasn’t self-sufficient.”

Draco cringed at the mention of marriage, looking very pale, even for him, and his expression was one of sheer horror. Hermione bit back a smile, enjoying his discomfort.

“Of course,” continued Narcissa, looking wistful, “when he was young he used to say that the only woman he could ever stand to live with would be me…”

Her story was interrupted by a strangled cough from Draco, who had just taken a sip of water and was now choking on it.

“Draco, darling, do you need to excuse yourself?” she inquired innocently. She turned back to Hermione. Of course, they say all men grow up and look for someone that reminds them of their mother…” This time she had trailed off intentionally, sending Hermione a meaningful look.

Now it was Draco’s turn to hide a laugh as he watched Hermione struggle valiantly to keep the expression of skepticism off of her face.

Narcissa continued on, still smiling fondly at the brunette witch. “Draco is just like his father. It takes a strong woman to keep a Malfoy man in line. And of course, it doesn’t hurt to know which buttons to press.” She turned and smirked at Lucius, who had perked up at the innuendo in her tone and was watching his wife with considerably more interest than he had been earlier.

Draco, looking completely revolted, cleared his throat deliberately. “Not that I don’t find your methods of manipulation fascinating, mother, but perhaps you could save this discussion for a more appropriate occasion. A breakdown of the inner workings of the physical relationship between my parents is not something I care to hear about over dinner.”

“Draco, you make it sound like something sordid!” Narcissa looked mildly offended for the first time that evening.

Lucius chimed in. “At any rate, I’m sure that Miss Granger has a firm grasp on how to handle obstinate men, what with her association with Potter and the Weasley boy, though perhaps not via the methods that Narcissa is referring to.” He turned calculating grey eyes onto Hermione, sizing her up.

Draco glared at his parents and threw his fork down. “While it’s gracious of you to offer, mum, Granger doesn’t need any lessons on ‘keeping me in line’, as you so eloquently put it. And there is no ‘perhaps’, father; she has never used any of mother’s deviant manipulation tactics on Potter or Weasley. EVER.” He fell silent for a moment, and then turned to Hermione. “Have you?” he half muttered to her, looking slightly desperate.
“Of course not,” she snapped, rolling her eyes at him. She turned her gaze to Lucius and Narcissa. “Mrs. Malfoy, if I require your help with Draco, I’ll let you know,” she informed her with an air of finality. “And Mr. Malfoy…” he was watching her with an amused and knowing expression, “just quit looking at me like that!”

Draco watched in wonder, aghast at the hysterical giggle slipped from his mouth. She was treating them like naughty children- it was too bizarre for words. His admiration for the feisty little witch rose a notch. He chanced a glance at his parents, relieved to see that they did not, in fact, appear to plotting a swift and severe revenge, but were looking the tiniest bit amused.

“Narcissa, dear,” the elegant blonde witch informed her. “It’s always Narcissa and Lucius to you.” She smiled and raised her glass in Hermione’s direction before finishing off her wine.

* * * * * * * * * *



“So… that went well, didn’t you think?”

“As I sustained no serious injuries and am not currently chained to a dungeon wall, I would have to say yes. At least it could have been much, much worse,” Hermione conceded, relieved to be home despite the fact that the evening had turned out to be far less painful than she had anticipated. “Although,” she amended, “your father did hint at a three-way sexual relationship between my two dearest friends and myself, and when you left the room, your mother snuck in a few tips on how to keep a Malfoy happy in the bedroom, despite my insistence that such a discussion was unnecessary.”

Draco lifted a hand to his temples, massaging them slowly, too tired to get angry or embarrassed. “So perhaps not an entirely flawless success, but a success nonetheless.” He looked up at her. “You’ve no idea how much worse it could have been. Just think, this is how they behave towards someone that they’ve decided they like.”

Draco was seated on her sofa, his feet propped on the coffee table and, as had become standard, Crookshanks purring in his lap. Hermione rolled her eyes at the traitorous cat, long since giving up on prying him from Draco’s clutches. Perhaps Crookshanks had sensed a kindred spirit in the uppity blond wizard. At any rate, her beloved cat had made it quite clear where he’d laid his allegiances, accepting her attentions only when Draco was unavailable.

She huffed and flopped down next to them, musing over the evening. She’d obviously never cared for Lucius Malfoy (to put it VERY mildly) and had anticipated emerging from the evening physically unscathed (based entirely on her trust in Draco), but much worse for the wear emotionally and mentally. While she doubted he would ever be someone she would describe as warm or nurturing, he was civil, and even appeared to have a sense of humor, warped though it may be. The most surprising thing she had noticed, however, had been his obvious affection for his wife and son. She had found herself willing to mitigate a multitude of his transgressions based on that characteristic.

Even more shocking was the fact that, when she wasn’t dwelling on his despicability, she actually found him to be a very handsome man, in a dangerous sort of way. Watching Draco now, she felt her heart flutter at the thought of what he would look like as he aged. He’d inherited his lean, muscular build from his father, as well as the steel-grey eyes and platinum hair, but was somehow even more dashing.

He looked up and caught her staring, giving her a lazy smile. “Time to scoot, cat,” he muttered at Crookshanks, shoving him unceremoniously off of his lap and ignoring the yowl of protest from the floor. He turned to her, pulling her sideways into his arms and kissing her deeply. She melted into the embrace, trying very hard not to feel too smug that she had pre-empted her cat for the spot in his lap.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” he murmured, smiling as she shivered when his lips grazed the shell of her ear. “I know my parents enjoyed meeting you,” he paused, dropping a kiss on her exposed throat, just below her ear, “and I very much enjoyed the company.” He slid warm, open-mouthed kisses down her throat, reveling in the breathless little noises escaping her mouth. His hands slid over her body, tracing the curves of her waist.

Hermione let her head fall backwards, basking in the sensation of his hands and mouth moving over her body. She gripped his arms tightly, pulling herself up and closer to him, allowing him to take her mouth in another kiss. His tongue was gently probing, stroking lightly at her lips before moving into her mouth. She finally pulled away, gasping for air and feeling even more lightheaded as she met his eyes, now darkened with lust.

He couldn’t believe how delicious the little witch was. Her brown eyes were wide and wild as she looked at him, her cheeks flushed pink and her skirt riding up around her slim legs. She shifted, straddling him now, her brown eyes trained on him intently as did so. She grabbed one of his hands, removing it from her waist and pulling it slowly upwards over her curves, staring at him. It was one of the most erotic things he had ever experienced and he stifled a moan as he felt himself harden further as she pulled his hand painfully slowly towards her breasts.

Finally, their joined hands arrived, and his fingers automatically curved around the soft mound of her breast, gently caressing it through the flimsy fabric of her top. She sighed in pleasure at the touch. Fortified by her sounds, he slipped a hand beneath the low neckline of her blouse, tracing patterns on her skin with his fingertips. She shivered slightly at the sensation and reached for the hem of her top, pulling it over her head.

When she met his gaze again, she looked nervous, almost frightened. He reached for her face, stroking her cheek in a way that he hoped was reassuring.

“You’re breathtaking,” he whispered. It was the truth. Her skin was an impossibly light shade of pink and seemed to glow in the dim lighting of the room. Her skirt hung low across her hips, emphasizing the flare of her curves from her slender waist. He stroked his hands reverently over the exposed skin, tracing the lines of body before pulling her to him and kissing her deeply once more.

She suddenly found herself thrown aside as he yelped in pain and swore viciously. She looked up, dazed and startled, and giggled as she saw took in the scene before her. Draco was rubbing an apparently injured leg and looking murderous as Crookshanks shoved himself onto his unwilling lap, brandishing his claws threateningly and proceeding to knead with more aggression than usual. Hermione’s giggles quickly escalated into hysterical laughter as the cat dug his claws in and resisted Draco’s attempts to remove him, howling in protest.

Draco’s eyes narrowed into slits as he gave up, sitting back and watching her in great irritation.

“And to think I was upset that he preferred you,” she managed to grind out between snorts of laughter.

Draco, looking extremely put out, turned his attention back to Crookshanks, who was staring mutinously at him. He decided to try a different tactic, allowing the cat his perch but coaxing the razor-sharp claws out of the tender flesh of his thighs, wincing as he did so. By the time he looked back to Hermione, she had replaced her shirt and was straightening her appearance.

“What?! No way Granger,” he began in disbelief. “I did NOT just suffer through a torture session, courtesy of YOUR cat, only to have you cover up what I had just worked so hard to uncover,” he finished, his tone almost pleading as he finished.

She raised an eyebrow. “What you’d worked so hard to uncover? Please,” she scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Besides, it rather looks like you’ve got your hands full,” she finished, looking pointedly at the purring monstrosity that was now quite contentedly settled, feeling he had successfully reclaimed what was rightfully his.

Draco groaned in irritation. “Fine,” he grumbled, resigning himself to his fate and half-heartedly petting the cat. She disappeared into the kitchen and he sank into the sofa, overcome by exhaustion once again now that his arousal was fading. He laid his head back on the sofa and shut his eyes, waiting for Hermione to return…

“I brought you something to… Draco?”

He was half-sprawled across the sofa, one leg stretched out and his head thrown back, his mouth hanging open slightly as he snored softly. She smiled at the picture he and Crookshanks made. Though it irked her more than a little that her cat so obviously preferred her… whatever Draco was, she had to admit that they looked cute together, snuggled on the sofa, both sleeping, and it was propitious that Crookshanks had taken such a liking to him. She draped a blanket over his form as best she could without disturbing either of them and retired to her bedroom.

* * * * * * * * * *




Hermione snuggled deeper into the covers, pulling a pillow over her head to block out the sounds and smells coming from the kitchen.

‘Wait a minute… smells?’ She woke with a start, suddenly nervous. ‘Is Draco cooking?’ she wondered inwardly, deciding that she had best investigate. Forgoing sleep, she threw the covers back and stumbled blearily out of bed, stopping in the bathroom first to brush her teeth.

She entered the kitchen somewhat apprehensively, not sure what to expect. She found Draco seated at the kitchen table, immersed in a book and surrounded by plates full of what appeared to be quite edible food.

“You know how to cook?” she asked suspiciously from the doorway, noting his startled reaction with satisfaction. He gave her a little smile and turned back to his reading material.

“What, like it’s hard? Please,” he snorted derisively.

She wasn’t convinced. It looked so perfect; tiny triangles of buttered toast, neatly fried bacon strips, a wide variety of perfect little omelettes… there was no way he did this. She looked and suddenly realized that he had changed, now wearing casual clothes when she had definitely left him on the couch in the formal robes he’d worn to dinner.

“You went back to the manor,” she commented slowly, understanding sinking into her sleepy brain.

“Yes, well… Cooked; gave a house elf specific instructions on what to cook… it’s a fine line really. They tidied your sitting room as well. I wouldn’t let them in the bedroom while you were sleeping.” He still didn’t look up from what he was evidently very involved in reading.

Just as she was taking a deep breath before launching into the numerous reasons why he should never have brought a house elf to her flat, he interrupted her train of thought.

“So tell me, Granger, do you find this to be a reliable source?”

“What are you talking about?” she snapped, irritated at his attempt to change the subject before she could properly reprimand him.

“This, uh, reading material, or instructional guide, if you will.”

Her stomach dropped slightly as she contemplated the possibilities of what he could be reading.

“Because I have to tell you, I’ve been reading ‘Get Naut-y! Sassy sailor wear that’s anything but strict’ and I have to tell you, I’m not impressed. In fact, I think I’d be quite alarmed if you turned up on my doorstep in one of these get-ups,” he informed her seriously, displaying a page full of sailor-inspired clothing and accessories.

She watched him, torn between amusement at his frank appraisal of the magazine and mortification that he’d found her secret stash of “Cosmopolitan.” She finally settled on relief that he had selected one of the few articles that actually were about fashion when he spoke again.

“Still, some the articles have some merit. I’m a bit skeptical about ‘The Tingly Twins,’ but I wouldn’t mind trying some of the other items mentioned in ‘Cosmo’s Sex Trick Hall of Fame’ the next time that you’re in the mood for a bit of research. I did particularly enjoy number 8, entitled ‘The Sweet Treat’.”

She felt her face flame and turned away from him, pouring herself a glass of juice while she struggled to compose an appropriate response. Draco watched her back, smirking as he caught a glimpse of her flushed face. He had been utterly delighted to find the magazines, knowing full well what her reaction would be. He continued watching her silently as she toyed with her long plait that she’d put in her hair last night.

He saw her shoulders start to shake and was instantly awash with guilt. “Hey Hermione,” he began, pushing out of his chair, “I was just teasing you.” He stopped behind her, tentatively reaching out for her shoulder.

She turned slowly and he realized that she wasn’t crying at all. She was laughing. He studied her in bewilderment.

“I’m sorry,” she started, gasping for breath. “The idea of you, sitting here, surrounded by house-elves, reading my muggle fashion magazine full of sex and makeup tips,” she managed to get out as she giggled. “Not to mention the fact that I’m so mortified I can’t think of how to respond except to laugh.”

He shook his head at her, giving her a half-smile. “It was certainly a surprise to discover that this is the material Hermione Granger spends all of her time reading,” he commented, tossing the magazine on the table.

“I don’t spend all of my time reading magazines,” she informed him, rolling her eyes. “It only comes out once a month.”

“Thank Merlin for that,” he muttered under his breath. “Anyways, I’m off. Meetings all day long.”

“But it’s Saturday,” she pouted, quickly realizing in horror that she was doing so and composing herself.

He caught the expression and smiled inwardly. “Tut tut, Granger. After all, what would Cosmo say about such a clingy attitude?”

She shot him a haughty look and huffed indignantly. “I am NOT clingy.”

He just laughed, dropping a quick kiss on her lips and heading for the fireplace. “I’ll be out of town for a few days,” he called over his shoulder, “and I’ll owl you when I return.” With a flash of green flame, he was gone.



A/N- Okay, so I know that Cosmo seems OOC for Hermione BUT… I know lots of very intelligent, bookish women that do like these types of magazines. It’s a guilty pleasure- one that I’ve decided that Hermione partakes in.

Also, those are real titles from the June edition of Cosmo. Not that I read it. Er, anyhow….

Thanks SO much to those who have been reviewing! It is much appreciated. Let me know what you thought!