The Shattered Dragon

Chapter 20: Teeth and Insincerity

Hermione rolled her eyes and moved to stand up but Leanna, all five foot three, one hundred and ten pounds of her stood and shoved her back into the seat, her eyes on fire with a need to tell her to the truth.

"No. You sit down and listen to me, Sparrow," she said, waving a finger in the older woman's face. "Yes, I went to his room. I found him half drunk, surrounded by vials of memories. Memories of you and him...together. It's how he spends every night, every day. He doesn't even collect our memories anymore because all he does is look at you. It's like none of us are even here."

Hermione flopped back in her chair and Leanna nodded, pleased at not having to fight any longer.

"You're not the only one who's in love with him," Leanne said, looking down at her hands. "I've been waiting for years. We all have...thinking that one day if we were demure enough, subservient enough, sweet enough, he'd choose one of us to spend his time with and then you came along, turned everything upside down and he was blinded. Just...fucking blinded."

Hermione snorted and turned to look out the window.

"Yes I stripped for him. I tried to seduce him. Yes, I kissed him but it felt cold...mechanical. We didn't go any further. Look at me Hermione," she said, her voice a bit softer, a bit more encouraging, kinder. "The point is, he didn't want me. Not really. I felt it. He admitted it. He gave me this to wear back to my room. He wants you, Hermione. I know he hurt you. And I know he's sorry. I hope you'll give him another chance, because more than anything, we all want him to be happy."

Hermione said nothing, staring past her to the other side of the room, to the nightstand where Hogwarts: A History sat, opened to Chapter Six, one of Draco's letters serving as a bookmark. Leanne sighed and stood, heading for the door, but before she could leave Hermione called after her.

"Thank you Dove," she said. "I just...thanks."

The following Friday Draco called for them all to sit together at dinner. They were surprised to see him clean shaven in his black suit with a diamond and onyx lapel pin, his hair was shining clean, swept back from his face and he looked better than he had in weeks. Just like at Christmas he sat at the head of the table and carried on pleasant conversation for most of the meal, his eyes flicking over to catch Hermione's every once in a while, offering a placating smile or nod that she half heartedly returned, Dove's words echoing in her head. She needed to give him another chance. He was trying so hard. Near the end of dinner he cleared his throat and stood, a signal that the chatter should stop.

"Thank you for joining me for dinner ladies. I wanted to gather you here together to let you know that I won't be in the club tonight. There won't be a formal lineup." He paused then, his glance falling on Hermione for a moment before looking away. "I...something has come up and I...it's a personal matter you needn't worry yourself about. The good news is that it's a fairly slow evening and I've left Mr. Zabini in charge. I have full confidence that he'll take good care of you seeing as you've taken good care of him over the years." The girls giggled for a moment before quieting again. "See me for your assignments and the rest of you can enjoy your night to yourselves. Oh also, Malia has asked us to recommend the Iron Feather Champagne as we mistakenly ordered 15 cases instead of 12. Thank you!"

After he sat down again the girls murmured around the table, eyebrows raised, voices lowered. It was rare that Draco left them alone overnight, even more so that he left someone else in charge. One by one they made their way over to him to learn their assignments, wishing him a good night. As Hermione approached he could sense that there was still hint of fear radiating from her. It was how she stood a bit further away, how her eyes widened or how she unconsciously touched her hand to her throat when he spoke. There were signs that the ice in her veins was thawing but he'd never been one for patience, preferring to melt it away with fire. Still, he didn't push it. Something about him had to change. Moonstone had told him to move slowly, to give her time – but he missed her. He missed her more than he thought possible and he didn't want to leave her alone.

"Sparrow," he said quietly. "I wanted to tell you-" but she was already walking away.

Without thinking he reached out and grabbed her elbow to pull her back, to make her listen. Just listen! Instead she froze, staring down at where his fingers wrapped around her arm. He let go immediately.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have...I just wanted to...I wanted to tell you..."

"Am I requested?" She asked, just as she did every time he tried to speak to her; giving her rote response to any of his attempts at conversation.

"No, you're not, but Hermione please. I just wanted to tell you...I heard from –"

"Then goodnight Mr. Malfoy," she said, not unkindly. In fact, he could hear a bit of warmth in it. Still, she wasn't going to listen, not tonight.

"Goodnight Sparrow," he said, before watching her walk away.

It was after midnight when she heard a knock on her door and she felt a little zing of adrenaline at the sound. After cutting him off earlier in the evening, Hermione had been restless with regret unable to eat, read. Finding her alone in the reading room, Sarah had offered to plait her hair, the first crack in the icy wall that had gone up between them. But even as she chit chatted with the younger girl, taking comfort in the soft, innocent touch of another person, her mind would go back to Draco, to the sadness in his eyes as she'd shut him down. It was clear that he'd wanted to repair what they'd had, she knew it, but she wasn't sure she had the strength to be that vulnerable with him again. And now, as a result of her stubborn pride she'd been laying awake for hours, staring at nothing, her mind racing.

She was sure that the quiet knock on her door was him, that he was respecting the boundaries of her room as always and she smiled. Wrapping her robe tight around her waist she smoothed her hair and walked to the door. She wouldn't turn him away. She was ready.

"Good evening little Sparrow," Trevor said, his grin wide and frightening, all teeth and insincerity.

"M..Mr. Archlight," she said, clutching her robe closed and stepping back from the open door. "I...you.."

"I..I..I," he mocked, laughing in her face. "Well well, not quite the brave little sharp tongued shrew you were when last we spoke, are you, pet?"

He was dressed more casually than she'd ever seen him, black pants and a grey v-neck jumper that revealed the flickering edges of a dark tattoo on his collarbone. The shirt was tightly fitted, accenting the lean lines of toned muscle in his arms, highlighting a strength that had been hidden from her before. This was not the buttoned up businessman she was used to interacting with. This was a different Trevor, eyes bloodshot, cheeks flushed. He was close enough to her that she could smell fire whiskey.

"I'm sorry Mr. Archlight," she said, keeping her tone low and pleasant. "I'm not working this evening."

"You're always working, you worthless slag. A whore doesn't go on holiday." He pulled her from the room and flush against his chest. He was a bit taller than Draco and his grip on her arm was painful. "Your pimp and I have an understanding you see: as a friend of the family I can sample the goods whenever I please."

"No," she said, trying to wrench her arm free. "He would never..."

She thought back to the evening's dinner, her conversation with Draco. He'd wanted to tell her something, he'd needed her to hear it and she'd shut him down.

"I want to ask him myself," she said, struggling against his grip.

Still the wicked smile never left his face.

"But he's not here, remember darling? You'll just have to take my fucking word for it."

"I wouldn't trust a word you say," she spat, unafraid of looking him right in the eye.

He held her tighter, wrapping his arms around her, his hands sliding down her back to grab her ass. She cried out for help and he covered her mouth with his hand, smile gone, his eyes glittering with anger in the darkened hallway as he pushed her backwards, slamming her head against the wall.

"Now now, none of that you filthy bitch. Frankly you're lucky a man like me even wants to fuck you. This childish tantrum is completely out of line." He held her hair tight in his fist, keeping her face upturned, her eyes on him. "You seem to forget that you are a whore. Draco's whore. You're nothing but...inventory to him. Property." He pressed his hips against hers, his breath hot on her cheek as he leaned down to hiss in her ear. "And tonight, I'm nothing more than a petty thief."