Day 4 - Thursday
A sliver of sunlight filtered through the bedroom window curtains and tickled Hermione's outstretched legs. She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, thoughts swirling in her head. Malfoy had left the apartment some time ago to drop by the Ministry. He hadn't wanted to leave right away since Hermione had been nauseous again this morning, but she had assured him that she would be fine. The truth was that she needed rest and (above all) time to realize what had happened yesterday.
She had slept with Draco Malfoy.
No, Draco Malfoy had fucked her - that sounded more like what they had done in the living room.
And Hermione had to admit, wether she liked it or not, that she hadn't found it repulsive or unpleasant. To her surprise, the exact opposite had been the case. After she had brought herself to just let it happen, she had actually enjoyed his touches and kisses. They'd climaxed together and Hermione hadn't faked her own. She closed her eyes and moaned softly at the thought of Malfoy's face, twisted in lust, as he had gasped and spilled into her. Damn, just the thought of it made her blood boil again.
Sighing, she pressed her legs together as everything inside her contracted. She thought about how it had felt to ruffle his blond hair and stroke his muscular back, and finally shook her head in disbelief. Malfoy was a Death Eater, an asshole, and her nemesis from childhood, but none of that had stopped her from holding out her body towards his dexterous fingers, panting.
And she had to be honest with herself: she would do it again if he asked her to - and without that damn spell. This fact sparked fear in her and her legs relaxed noticeably when the pleasant feeling suddenly waned.
When it had been over, neither of them had known what to say to each other. Hermione had slid down the wall and Malfoy had pulled and buttoned up his denims while he had appraised her with his icy gray eyes. She hadn't felt entirely uncomfortable, but at least slightly embarrassed, because there had never been any kind of intimacy between them before. It had felt like someone had pushed open a door between them that had previously been closed, and Hermione had been sure that Malfoy had felt the same at that moment.
Then she had been nauseous again and he had helped her into the bathroom, where she had managed to pull herself together until he had closed the door behind him. She had thrown up twice and mourned the pasta afterwards before dragging herself into the bedroom and laying down on the bed which she had hardly left since.
So here she was - struggling with the thoughts that were constantly circling in her head. She hadn't really slept all night.
At least, she wasn't the only one doing things that were out of character for her. After all, Malfoy had been the one who had initiated the sex. Hermione had noticed the greedy looks he'd been giving her, and she now wondered if it had been due to a long sexual abstinence or if he really had wanted to feel her in particular.
The latter unsettled her and made her think about everything even harder at the same time. Could it be true that Draco Malfoy cared about her? But that would be absurd and Hermione wouldn't even remotely know how to deal with such a thing. But what if he did? She felt her heart beat faster at the thought and her curiosity piqued.
"Damn, Malfoy. What's going on inside you?" she murmured under her breath and finally got up from the soft mattress to pace the room.
Basically, it was fine with Hermione if Malfoy saw nothing more in her than a whore and just wanted to have some fun. It wasn't exactly wishful thinking, but she could handle it. What would really pose a problem in her eyes would be genuine sympathy. After all, he had taken her out of the Baton Rouge, was going through her withdrawal with her, cooked for her — wasn't that evidence that pointed to this improbable case?
Hermione sighed and leaned her forehead against the cool window pane. The street in front of Malfoy's apartment building wasn't particularly busy, but one person caught her eye immediately. Across the street, a man with thick black hair was standing behind a car, looking up to her.
For a moment, Hermione couldn't place him, although she was sure that she had seen him recently, but then the scales fell from her eyes. Those steel blue, piercing eyes belonged with a hundred percent certainty to Blaise Zabini - also a former Slytherin, also cunning and presumably also a supporter of Voldemort.
Zabini had been at the Baton Rouge with Malfoy the day they first had met.
Hermione shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself as she stood on tiptoe to watch Zabini stride across the street and then head straight for the building entrance.
She gasped and whirled around. He would come to the apartment and only Merlin knew what he was up to. In a matter of seconds, Hermione imagined all sorts of scenarios. Zabini, who wanted to take her to the Ministry for an interrogation regarding Harry. Zabini, who just felt like torturing a Mudblood. Zabini, who had overheard Malfoy having a prostitute at home and now didn't want to miss the fun. But Malfoy wouldn't allow that, would he?
Her lips quivered as she pulled on a sweater and crossed the living room. So far, her host hadn't seemed like he wanted to cause her any more trouble than she was already in. She couldn't imagine him setting another Ministry official on her after moaning her first name in ecstasy just yesterday.
She shuddered again and shook her head. She didn't know Draco Malfoy well - at least, not well enough - and she really couldn't be sure what he was capable of.
There was a knock on the door and Hermione stood stock still. It took her a few seconds to decide that there was no point in playing deaf. Zabini had already spotted her at the window and probably knew from Malfoy that she couldn't leave the apartment. Also, her Gryffindor courage, which she had thought she had lost, kicked in and Hermione stomped resolutely towards the door. She opened it and glared defiantly at the dark-haired wizard.
"Zabini. What can I do for you?" she asked deliberately bored. It annoyed her that a smug grin was already emerging on his face.
"Thank you so much, I'd love to come in," he replied, prudently ignoring her words, and stepped over the threshold unbidden.
Hermione backed away from him and watched as he closed the door and slowly sauntered down the hall.
"What do you want? Malfoy hasn't announced a visitor." She knew it must sound ridiculous because Malfoy had no reason to tell her if he invited someone to his apartment. Still, she didn't want to give Zabini the satisfaction of submitting to him.
"Draco doesn't know I'm here."
Hermione relaxed at the words and took a deep breath.
That meant, at least, that Malfoy had absolutely nothing to do with this, and (more importantly) that the chances of him coming back while Zabini was still here increased and he would maybe prevent the worst from happening. A wave of relief washed over her, and she realized that if Malfoy had abandoned her to Zabini, she would indeed have been disappointed. She didn't want him to go back to being the monster she had always thought he was. Because now he wasn't.
By now they were in the living room and Zabini was looking around with decided interest, as if searching for hidden clues, which in turn convinced Hermione that he knew absolutely nothing about their yesterdays's shag. Apparently, for once, Malfoy had kept something to himself rather than bragging about it, although Hermione didn't know how good friends he really was with Zabini either.
She played along with his game for a few more minutes, until finally she couldn't stand it any longer. "Spit it out, Zabini. Are you trying to scare me? You can say goodbye to that," she hissed and Zabini raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
"No, I don't want to scare you. I don't have to either." He sighed and ran his fingertips over the spines of books in Malfoy's bookshelf, just as Hermione had secretly done herself. "I want to give you some advice, Granger, that you really should heed."
He turned to face her and Hermione folded her arms defensively across her chest. Whatever Blaise Zabini felt to advise her, it couldn't be anything that really mattered.
"I'm listening," she said anyway, fervently hoping that she could brush him off quicker if she gave him a chance to get rid of whatever he wanted to say.
Zabini eyed her hostilely for a moment, then began to speak - his voice more menacing, serious and colder now. "I want you to leave Draco alone. Once this sodding week is over, go back to your miserable life and don't come back."
Hermione wanted to laugh out loud, but she was so taken aback by his statement that her jaw dropped for a moment. What the hell was that bastard thinking? She hadn't been the one who had asked Malfoy to take her with him. She hadn't invited him to the Baton Rouge or flirted with him. He had made that bloody decision for both of them and in the end he had been the one who wanted to fuck.
"I've rarely heard such nonsense," she hissed angrily and felt her face flush to the roots of her hair. She was incredibly angry. "Believe me, Zabini, I'll be glad when I'm gone, get it? Malfoy wanted it that way, not me. I don't want to be here at all and if you think otherwise, you are even more stupid than I thought."
She clenched her hands to fists, but Zabini just cast a thoughtful look out the window. Hermione had expected him to say something back, maybe yell at her, or at least get physical, but none of that happened. Instead, Zabini even remained almost eerily calm.
He shrugged and gave her a quick look. "Draco is acting funny lately. He's always been a bit odd, but since I dragged him to the Baton Rouge, things have only gotten worse. I'd like to kick my ass for talking him into it."
Hermione perked up her ears. Zabini had gotten Malfoy to go to the brothel with him? Did that also mean that Malfoy didn't normally do such a thing? What should she think of that now? Up until now, she had firmly assumed that Malfoy was just one of those snots who could afford to buy young women's affections on a regular basis. Apparently she had been wrong once more. Biting her lip, she listened to Zabini's words a little more carefully than before.
"I was merely surprised when he told me that he visited the club without me. But when he revealed to me that he actually took you with him, I was simply shocked. Since then, he's been spending far less time at the Ministry than he should, and that's a real disaster."
Hermione raised an eyebrow in question, but Zabini snorted.
"Don't play dumb, Granger. You know exactly what Draco is working on if you've opened the Daily Prophet from time to time. And the pressure from above is becoming more and more unbearable every day. You don't understand any of this, but this is a warning: leave him alone as soon as your contract expires, so that Draco can get a clear head again."
Hermione huffed and now put her hands on her hips angrily. "Get a clear head? What's that supposed to mean, Zabini? Stop talking in riddles and just spit it out if you have to say something. Why is it my fault if Malfoy is being odd? I didn't do anything." They stared at each other hostilely for a few seconds and Zabini's eyes narrowed in irritation.
"I assume you haven't noticed, Granger, but for some reason Draco feels an incomprehensible urge to help you. Merlin knows why. If it was for me, you could die in that brothel - I wouldn't give a fuck. But Draco seems to see things differently. And right now I have no idea how to bring him to his senses."
Hermione fell silent, shocked. Was it so obvious that Malfoy had changed his mind about her that even Zabini had noticed? It made her perplex and excited at the same time. And, at least, it confirmed her assumption that the tall, blond wizard actually kind of cared. So far, that had simply seemed absurd to her.
She lowered her head, unable to look Zabini in the face while she was thinking, and silently examined her fingernails.
"Oh god, you two are fucking," Zabini suddenly snapped into the growing silence, and Hermione blushed.
Hell, could that prick read minds? She shuddered when she realized that it was actually quite possible. Zabini might be capable of Legilimency and, in that case, would certainly not shy away from using it. Or maybe he had just guessed right.
She tried to give him a nonchalant look, but failed miserably, and eventually shrugged defiantly. "So, what of it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "As you know, that's practically my job."
Zabini nodded, gave a mirthless laugh and ran his fingers through his hair. "Yes, until a few days ago I was convinced of that too. I even advised Draco to take a chance when he's around you all the time anyway. But after meeting him, I prayed he didn't listen to me."
Hermione didn't understand anymore. Apparently something had happened at the Ministry that she didn't know about and that Zabini certainly wouldn't tell her. He looked worried and thoughtful now, while Hermione paced the room restlessly, lost in her own thoughts. Eventually, she decided it was best to just calm down Zabini and tell him what he apparently needed to hear.
"Listen, Zabini. It won't happen again and as soon as the contract expires I'll be gone and hopefully Malfoy will never see me again." She stopped and sighed. It was strange because she had only just considered sleeping with Malfoy again right away. "I'm not particularly keen on continuing this whole fuss. If it were up to me, I would leave immediately. I don't even like him, all right? He's a self-absorbed, sadistic asshole and that's never going to change."
With these words she ended her speech and looked Zabini straight in the eyes, but he didn't return her gaze. He looked at a point diagonally behind her and Hermione turned around in annoyance. Didn't this wanker even have the decency to give her the attention she deserved while she was talking to him?
Her blood ran cold when she saw the reason for his distraction.
Malfoy was standing in the living room door - and he looked murderously angry.