Four Weddings and a Dragon - Charlie Weasley

Chapter 17

Hermione stepped through the Floo, leaving the lounge of her house in London and emerging in a dark, cool room that smelled of old books and, very faintly, of red wine. It had worked. On a sleepless night, she had gained entry to the library of Malfoy Manor late enough that she wouldn't impose upon anyone while she read Astoria's fertility spell book.

If only she could get enough light to read by. Moonlight was diffused through a tall, diamond-paned window, and the fireplace that had flared as she came through had receded to red coals. She found a table lamp by the glow of her wand, but it wouldn't light for her.

She huffed. Leave it to Malfoy Manor to let her in and then be difficult. She stood by the table, one hand pressed flat on the open book, willing herself not to let her mind wander. This house - what happened here the night Fenrir Greyback took her and Ron and Harry captive had unfolded differently than she had always understood it. She now knew that without Draco's help, she wouldn't have survived the chandelier crash to make an escape. But that did not make what she suffered here any less horrible.

"Focus, Hermione," she muttered to herself. There was a drawer in the table, and if she could find a blank sheet of paper in it, she could kindle one of her slow-burning flames and read by its light.

She had the drawer pulled all the way open, rifling papers inside it when from the doorway, someone cleared their throat.

Of course they did.

"Malfoy!" she gasped.

"Oh, come now, You had to expect this," he said, flicking on the lights with a toss of his head, the fine, clean lines of his face appearing not far from her, his eyes narrowed, mouth curved into a smirk. He was dressed in a massive, lavish dressing gown like a Tudor king would wear in a portrait, only its hem fell all the way to the floor. Between the lapels, she could see the lush black of silk pajamas. She thought of Charlie, asleep at home in just a pair of boxers and his freckles, and she rolled her eyes at Malfoy's excess, even in his sleep.

"Actually, I didn't expect to see anyone," she countered, though she had known all along the risk existed. "I was hoping to read here without bothering anybody."

Draco shook his head. "No, the house lets me know whenever someone's come or gone. It's usually just the staff. Edna receiving grocery deliveries, that sort of thing. This is much more interesting."

She straightened her posture, jamming the drawer closed. "Does everything you say have to sound lascivious?"

He raised an eyebrow, still standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, his ankles crossed. "It doesn't. That's just how it sounds to my - special friends."

Hermione folded her arms in front of herself. "It's not just me. Charlie thinks the same. So does Harry."

"Yes, they would," Draco agreed, a laugh in his voice.

She rolled her eyes again. "Give over, Malfoy. Thank you for the lights. Now if you don't mind, I'll read this page on the Gravida Sympatico spell and leave you to your evening."

He squinted at the large clock standing on the floor behind her. "Evening? It's 3am."

"Then I won't keep you," she said. "If you need the use of the library now, I'll see myself out."

Draco gave a rather jovial groan. "Enough, Granger - "

"It's Weasley."

"Of course it is," he said. "You think I don't know that? You think I came down, knowing you were here, and hoping to lure you upstairs for a spontaneous Triadum spell while your great ginger destroying angel sleeps just one Floo away?"