Laying the Blame

Disclaimer: Obviously, not mine.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews as well as your patience and support!

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Laying the Blame

Chapter Nine

Hermione’s eyes fluttered open. She was unsure of where she was for a moment. Then the fog cleared and she raised her face off the open ledger on her desk. She wearily looked at the hourglass…it was late. She had fallen asleep again. Dinner was probably almost over.

The young witch stood and stretched, forcing life back into her aching limbs. She knew she was working herself too hard but she couldn’t help it. Work was the only thing that kept her sane. It consumed her so much that she was unable to dwell on life at home.

It had been a week. A whole week since the incident in the kitchen and Hermione was frustrated. When she got married, she expected to have more sex not less. Okay, it still wasn’t less than before but still. She was married!

It wasn’t just about sex, either. Her husband had been ignoring her all week. Maybe that was too strong of a word. He was busy. He had no time for anything. That was when she decided she would keep busy as well. That way she avoided both father and son.

Lucius.

He was definitely avoiding her. He tried to spend as little time with her as possible; she was sure of it.

The only one who went out of their way to be nice was Narcissa. She bent over backwards trying to entertain her daughter-in-law, which made Hermione feel even worse. As did Narcissa’s muttered, “Men, darling. They are all self-centered prats. But we can’t live without them now, could we?” This made Hermione wonder how much she knew and caused a feeling of guilt to wash over her. Small wonder, she avoided the older witch as well.

Hermione looked down at her desk. Numbers were so predictable. They never changed. You always knew what to expect.

So Hermione turned to what made her feel secure. Knowledge and work. She would get home at night exhausted and fall into a restless sleep.

She knew she couldn’t keep it up for long.

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Draco dipped his spoon once more into his soup and then poured it out, again.

“What is the point, dear? If you are not going to eat it then just let it be,” his mother told him chidingly.

“Sorry, Mother,” he apologized and then put the spoonful of liquid into his mouth.

“Hermione has missed dinner once again,” she commented sadly. “She is working too hard. She is exhausted most of the time, now. Perhaps she should be sleeping more at night.” She gave her only son a pointed look.

Draco opened his mouth to say something and then thought better of it. There was no point in revealing to them that he was not actively keeping Hermione up at night. He knew she was not sleeping well and suspected that part of that was his fault although not in the way his mother was insinuating. He also suspected that his father was partly to blame for his wife’s sleeplessness. He looked up at the older wizard in time to receive a sardonic look.

Draco was defying his father. Although it was not openly and so, subsequently, not as fulfilling. In fact, he gained no satisfaction from his actions and he felt quite childish. The anger once more surfaced, though as he thought about his father ordering him to impregnate his wife. Of course he knew this was the whole point of his marriage after all, but he thought he would have more control over the process. What had he expected? His father was a controlling bastard after all and it should have been no surprise to the young man that he took such an active role in his son’s and consequently his daughter-in-law’s life.

“Draco?” his mother said rather forcefully, indicating that this was not the first time she had tried to get his attention.

“Sorry, Mother,” he replied, trying to focus on the conversation at hand.

“Are you all right?” she asked with concern. “You just seem to be elsewhere tonight.”

“Perhaps,” Lucius said smoothly, “he is thinking about his wife and how he can ease the stress she is under.” He smirked at Draco’s attempt to disguise the anger on his young face.

“Would you like me to give you some pointers, son?” he continued. “I have some experience dealing with stress.”

Draco gritted his teeth. “No thanks, Father,” he ground out. “I am sure I can handle it all by myself.”

“Then see that you do.”

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The manor was dark when Hermione finally arrived home. She had decided to stay and finish some work that needed to be done.

She scolded herself mentally; it hadn’t needed to be done. She was just a coward. She didn’t want to face anyone. She was tired of lying to Narcissa about why she was working so hard. As for the other two, she was just tired of them, period!

There was a small light on in the living room. It was just bright enough to accentuate the shadows in the large room. Hermione was not quite ready to go up to bed even though her body cried out for sleep. She threw herself into the low armchair in the corner of the room. She knew that this was the one place she should avoid since it was Lucius’ favorite chair and his scent often lingered in it. Paradoxically, it usually had a calming effect on her nerves.

She slumped into the chair, throwing her head back to relax. She realized immediately that she was not alone in the chair. Startled she started to jump up when strong arms held her into place.

His unique scent surrounded her and she knew it could be no other than Lucius himself.

She turned her head sideways to look at him but he was facing forward. His breathing was shallow as if he were hesitant to take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Lucius,” she began. “I didn’t see you.”

“Obviously,” he drawled.

His voice carried disdain and for a moment, she was angered at his attitude. However she quickly realized several things. He had not moved his hands; they still held her around the waist. His fingers seemed to burn through her clothes.

She also noticed something poking into her bottom.

It couldn’t be! She squirmed to get more comfortable and to test her theory.

A soft groan escaped his lips and his eyes involuntarily shut.

She took advantage of the situation and softly kissed his neck. Lucius didn’t move. He wasn’t encouraging her advances but he wasn’t discouraging her either.

She ran her tongue lightly over his skin. He tasted wonderful. The room was quiet except for the sound of his breathing.

Her kisses became more eager in anticipation. Merlin, she wanted him so much. She didn’t even care that someone could walk in on them.

Hermione wrapped her fingers in his long, silky hair and pulled his head back. This gave her better access to his neck as she continued her exploration.

He growled in her ear. The young witch felt she had succeeded in breaking down his defenses, when he suddenly grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand down.

Unexpectedly, he was on his feet, holding her in his arms. Hermione held her breath, hoping he was just moving them to a more private place. Instead, he put her down and stepped away from her.

“Apology accepted,” he said harshly and then quickly left the room.

Hermione felt like crying. He had rejected her once again. She felt about as attractive as a slug. Why did she keep pushing herself on him when he so obviously didn’t want her?

Then she remembered the feel of his body against her. The evidence was there. She could still recall the feel of his hardness pressed into her. He did want her.

And he was desperately trying not to show it.

Suddenly, Hermione felt energized. Everyone else had the power because she let them have it.

No more.

She was the one in control of her life and from now on, everyone else would know it, too.