Hyacinth and Oleander
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,726
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,726
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Hyacinth and Oleander
Title: Hyacinth and Oleander
Pairings: Narcissa/Hermione, Hermione/Ginny
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In the summer before Hermione’s seventh year, a chance encounter in Knockturn Alley changes her life forever. It reveals the darker part of her soul, and in the end, will demand the greatest sacrifice.
A/N: The HP Universe as well as all of the characters within this fanfic belong to J.K. Rowling.
Chapter One: An Unexpected Surrender
“Those who yield are not always weak.”
-Hyacinth, from Kushiel’s Dart by Jacqueline Carey
Hermione pulled the hood of her dark cloak up before whispering the words to cast a glamour over her form, assuming her favored disguise of Alana Lancaster, a Muggle-born girl with long blond hair and amethyst eyes. She stepped into Knockturn Alley, a small smile on her face. A few of the shopkeepers knew her here from her occasional jaunts down this road. This was her secret, something she kept even from Harry and Ron, to keep them from worrying.
Everyone knew of her voracious appetite for knowledge, so to some it would be no surprise that she would search everywhere, even some of the shadier corners of the world, to find another thing to learn and memorize. But the tome she searched for today was considered to hold some of the Darkest magic: Necromancy. The ability to summon spirits for divination and raise corpses from the grave for servants. To all good-minded wizards, it was a repulsive thing to think of, so why would one of the Golden Trio actively seek to know about such a thing?
The power may have been appealing to some, but after weeks of research in Wizarding libraries, she had found evidence to prove the rumor sent to her by an anonymous owl: that Necromancy could also be used to resurrect someone, rather than bring them back as some rotting soulless servant. Hermione knew such power could be priceless in the upcoming battle, and she had dedicated herself to learning how to harness it.
So as she stepped into Borgin and Burkes, a tattered piece of parchment clutched in her hand with the words Nex Libri* written on it in blood-red ink in a fine script that was not her own but that of her mysterious benefactor’s. A small bell tinkled in the background and the old wooden floor under her feet creaked with age. As per usual, her only companions were the cobwebs and the sounds of Mr. Borgin in the back room. Perfect for her needs.
Hermione walked to the huge bookshelf in the corner and started searching for the book, coughing as a few decades of dust went into the air. In a few moments she had found it, and a spark of selfish triumph lit up her eyes. Finally. The cover felt strangely soft, and she recoiled when she realized it was made of human skin. When Hermione tried to open it she found it locked. Turning it over, she saw an ivory lock carved to look like a fanged mouth keeping it shut.
“I’m afraid you won’t be able to open that.”
The young witch almost jumped ten feet in the air, clutching the book tight to her chest before looking at the stranger who had spoken. Hermione’s eyes opened wide and she was suddenly very glad she had chosen to magically disguise herself.
The woman was Narcissa Malfoy, with her platinum blond hair flowing down to her waist and icy grey eyes characteristic of her pureblood line. Her skin was perfect, carved alabaster and for a moment Hermione was frozen, caught like a bird in a snake’s gaze.
Then she stifled a laugh. That’s exactly what she was. A wicked snake. Ever since her husband had been thrown into Azkaban, she had retreated into a mournful solitude within the confines of Malfoy Manor, or so the papers said. Hermione sincerely doubted she was spending her time merely thinking of Lucius.
“And how would you know anything about it?”
“Because, Hermione,” The witch stumbled backwards, shocked at Narcissa having somehow (it was impossible, how could she know?) pierced her mask. “I was the one who sent the note you are currently holding in your hand.”
“What?” Hermione sputtered, searching for an explanation. “I don’t know who you are, but I would appreciate if you left me to my studies.”
The next thing she saw was Narcissa’s wand in her face. “Finite Incantem, lovely.”
Hermione saw her skin return to its normal color and knew her hair and eyes had also changed back. She shivered and looked Narcissa right in the eyes, a feat harder than she imagined. “How-”
Narcissa held up a pale hand, commanding silence without speaking a word. “You must learn to be more discrete when searching for items of that nature, Hermione. Not many wizards even know that Necromancy exists, or deny that such power can. When I came to sell some of Lucius’ old things, Mr. Borgin told me an entertaining story of how a young woman with violet eyes came into his store once a month asking about books she shouldn’t know about.”
“And you decided it had to be me?”
“Especially after I found this.” Narcissa pulled a red and gold badge out of the pocket of her silk robe. Hermione swallowed. Her prefect’s badge. She had thought one of the Weasley twins had taken it when she hadn’t been looking. Spending her summers at the Burrow had become habit and she was well used to the occasional pranks and mishaps that occurred in the house. “No other Gryffindor prefect knows enough to be searching for books on Necromancy.”
“Fuck.” Hermione muttered under her breath. How could she have been so foolish to leave her badge behind?
“But don’t worry,” Narcissa continued, unmoved by Hermione’s curse. “You’ll get a new one soon. You’ve been picked for Head Girl, not that anyone expected anything else.”
“How would you know?” Hermione raised an unbelieving eyebrow.
“Because my son has been chosen for Head Boy.” Not that his family would accept anything else, the young Gryffindor thought mockingly.
“What do you want with me, Mrs. Malfoy?” Clenching her teeth, Hermione forced out the polite words.
“To help you.” Narcissa’s poisonous smile made the witch shudder with fear, and…something else?
“Help me?” Hermione laughed, never having heard such a thing in her life.
“Yes, little girl,” the older woman purred, a dangerous tone entering her words. Hermione flushed. “Help you. Help you understand the power you’re holding in your hands. Without me, you won’t be able to even open the book.”
“And what would this ‘help’ cost me?”
“Come to the manor with me and we can discuss our terms.”
“I’m not going anywhere with the wife of a Death Eater.” Hermione spat, “Why are you even bothering to talk to me? Doesn’t my tainted blood offend your purity?”
“If I shared the same biases as my husband and my son, I assure you I would not come within a foot of you. I know what I want, and I know want you want.”
“It’s what you want that bothers me.” Hermione said, keeping her voice even. Her mind was quickly forming ideas of what someone like Narcissa Malfoy could want. None of the options appealed to her.
“I swear I have no intention of harming your friends or family, Hermione.”
“And what about me? I’ve been conveniently left out of that oath.” The Gryffindor really wished Narcissa would stop using her name. It was giving her a headache for some reason.
“Some would consider what I want from you harm.”
Hermione’s eyes widened in comprehension. “Sex?”
“You’re no virgin, I can tell.” Narcissa smiled, showing perfect white teeth.
“That doesn’t mean I will- that I would…” The girl was speechless. There had been a few times with Ron before they had broken up, but she hadn’t liked it. He had manhandled her and then rolled over and fallen asleep.
“Fight me all you wish, Hermione, but I am the only one who knows how to open that book who is not dead or imprisoned. If you want to know a Malfoy family secret, you must get to know a Malfoy very well.”
Hermione blushed furiously. She had come so close and now this. “No magic, no wands,” Narcissa said, “Just you, me, and a bed. Then I’ll tell you everything that you want to know.”
There was a long silence before Hermione closed her eyes and nodded. But she knew that if she was double-crossed, she would kill Narcissa. “Perfect.” The female Malfoy whispered and pushed the young witch into the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo Powder and handing it to the girl.
“Malfoy Manor.” Hermione said in a clear voice, fear holding a vise-like grip on her heart.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Next chapter coming soon! Please R&R!
*(Lat. ‘death book’)
Pairings: Narcissa/Hermione, Hermione/Ginny
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In the summer before Hermione’s seventh year, a chance encounter in Knockturn Alley changes her life forever. It reveals the darker part of her soul, and in the end, will demand the greatest sacrifice.
A/N: The HP Universe as well as all of the characters within this fanfic belong to J.K. Rowling.
Chapter One: An Unexpected Surrender
“Those who yield are not always weak.”
-Hyacinth, from Kushiel’s Dart by Jacqueline Carey
Hermione pulled the hood of her dark cloak up before whispering the words to cast a glamour over her form, assuming her favored disguise of Alana Lancaster, a Muggle-born girl with long blond hair and amethyst eyes. She stepped into Knockturn Alley, a small smile on her face. A few of the shopkeepers knew her here from her occasional jaunts down this road. This was her secret, something she kept even from Harry and Ron, to keep them from worrying.
Everyone knew of her voracious appetite for knowledge, so to some it would be no surprise that she would search everywhere, even some of the shadier corners of the world, to find another thing to learn and memorize. But the tome she searched for today was considered to hold some of the Darkest magic: Necromancy. The ability to summon spirits for divination and raise corpses from the grave for servants. To all good-minded wizards, it was a repulsive thing to think of, so why would one of the Golden Trio actively seek to know about such a thing?
The power may have been appealing to some, but after weeks of research in Wizarding libraries, she had found evidence to prove the rumor sent to her by an anonymous owl: that Necromancy could also be used to resurrect someone, rather than bring them back as some rotting soulless servant. Hermione knew such power could be priceless in the upcoming battle, and she had dedicated herself to learning how to harness it.
So as she stepped into Borgin and Burkes, a tattered piece of parchment clutched in her hand with the words Nex Libri* written on it in blood-red ink in a fine script that was not her own but that of her mysterious benefactor’s. A small bell tinkled in the background and the old wooden floor under her feet creaked with age. As per usual, her only companions were the cobwebs and the sounds of Mr. Borgin in the back room. Perfect for her needs.
Hermione walked to the huge bookshelf in the corner and started searching for the book, coughing as a few decades of dust went into the air. In a few moments she had found it, and a spark of selfish triumph lit up her eyes. Finally. The cover felt strangely soft, and she recoiled when she realized it was made of human skin. When Hermione tried to open it she found it locked. Turning it over, she saw an ivory lock carved to look like a fanged mouth keeping it shut.
“I’m afraid you won’t be able to open that.”
The young witch almost jumped ten feet in the air, clutching the book tight to her chest before looking at the stranger who had spoken. Hermione’s eyes opened wide and she was suddenly very glad she had chosen to magically disguise herself.
The woman was Narcissa Malfoy, with her platinum blond hair flowing down to her waist and icy grey eyes characteristic of her pureblood line. Her skin was perfect, carved alabaster and for a moment Hermione was frozen, caught like a bird in a snake’s gaze.
Then she stifled a laugh. That’s exactly what she was. A wicked snake. Ever since her husband had been thrown into Azkaban, she had retreated into a mournful solitude within the confines of Malfoy Manor, or so the papers said. Hermione sincerely doubted she was spending her time merely thinking of Lucius.
“And how would you know anything about it?”
“Because, Hermione,” The witch stumbled backwards, shocked at Narcissa having somehow (it was impossible, how could she know?) pierced her mask. “I was the one who sent the note you are currently holding in your hand.”
“What?” Hermione sputtered, searching for an explanation. “I don’t know who you are, but I would appreciate if you left me to my studies.”
The next thing she saw was Narcissa’s wand in her face. “Finite Incantem, lovely.”
Hermione saw her skin return to its normal color and knew her hair and eyes had also changed back. She shivered and looked Narcissa right in the eyes, a feat harder than she imagined. “How-”
Narcissa held up a pale hand, commanding silence without speaking a word. “You must learn to be more discrete when searching for items of that nature, Hermione. Not many wizards even know that Necromancy exists, or deny that such power can. When I came to sell some of Lucius’ old things, Mr. Borgin told me an entertaining story of how a young woman with violet eyes came into his store once a month asking about books she shouldn’t know about.”
“And you decided it had to be me?”
“Especially after I found this.” Narcissa pulled a red and gold badge out of the pocket of her silk robe. Hermione swallowed. Her prefect’s badge. She had thought one of the Weasley twins had taken it when she hadn’t been looking. Spending her summers at the Burrow had become habit and she was well used to the occasional pranks and mishaps that occurred in the house. “No other Gryffindor prefect knows enough to be searching for books on Necromancy.”
“Fuck.” Hermione muttered under her breath. How could she have been so foolish to leave her badge behind?
“But don’t worry,” Narcissa continued, unmoved by Hermione’s curse. “You’ll get a new one soon. You’ve been picked for Head Girl, not that anyone expected anything else.”
“How would you know?” Hermione raised an unbelieving eyebrow.
“Because my son has been chosen for Head Boy.” Not that his family would accept anything else, the young Gryffindor thought mockingly.
“What do you want with me, Mrs. Malfoy?” Clenching her teeth, Hermione forced out the polite words.
“To help you.” Narcissa’s poisonous smile made the witch shudder with fear, and…something else?
“Help me?” Hermione laughed, never having heard such a thing in her life.
“Yes, little girl,” the older woman purred, a dangerous tone entering her words. Hermione flushed. “Help you. Help you understand the power you’re holding in your hands. Without me, you won’t be able to even open the book.”
“And what would this ‘help’ cost me?”
“Come to the manor with me and we can discuss our terms.”
“I’m not going anywhere with the wife of a Death Eater.” Hermione spat, “Why are you even bothering to talk to me? Doesn’t my tainted blood offend your purity?”
“If I shared the same biases as my husband and my son, I assure you I would not come within a foot of you. I know what I want, and I know want you want.”
“It’s what you want that bothers me.” Hermione said, keeping her voice even. Her mind was quickly forming ideas of what someone like Narcissa Malfoy could want. None of the options appealed to her.
“I swear I have no intention of harming your friends or family, Hermione.”
“And what about me? I’ve been conveniently left out of that oath.” The Gryffindor really wished Narcissa would stop using her name. It was giving her a headache for some reason.
“Some would consider what I want from you harm.”
Hermione’s eyes widened in comprehension. “Sex?”
“You’re no virgin, I can tell.” Narcissa smiled, showing perfect white teeth.
“That doesn’t mean I will- that I would…” The girl was speechless. There had been a few times with Ron before they had broken up, but she hadn’t liked it. He had manhandled her and then rolled over and fallen asleep.
“Fight me all you wish, Hermione, but I am the only one who knows how to open that book who is not dead or imprisoned. If you want to know a Malfoy family secret, you must get to know a Malfoy very well.”
Hermione blushed furiously. She had come so close and now this. “No magic, no wands,” Narcissa said, “Just you, me, and a bed. Then I’ll tell you everything that you want to know.”
There was a long silence before Hermione closed her eyes and nodded. But she knew that if she was double-crossed, she would kill Narcissa. “Perfect.” The female Malfoy whispered and pushed the young witch into the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo Powder and handing it to the girl.
“Malfoy Manor.” Hermione said in a clear voice, fear holding a vise-like grip on her heart.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Next chapter coming soon! Please R&R!
*(Lat. ‘death book’)