dalliances. But when he takes it upon himself to marry a conquest, well then." Lucius stared at her, hard. "It becomes my duty to show my parental displeasure. But let's come to the point, shall we. You're obviously an intelligent young woman, so the question begs to be asked." He folded his arms. "How much?"
"For Draco?" Hermione asked, incredulous and insulted. "You can have him for a Chocolate Frog, or failing that, what about that illegal, priceless text of Egyptian curses you're rumoured to have hidden somewhere?" she suggested, in a falsely cheerful voice. "Oh wait, I just remembered. You've had all your things taken by the Ministry, haven't you? I might just have to settle for the frog."
Well. She had certainly pulled that out of her arse. If Ron were present, he'd have hooted and slapped his thigh. It was galling to think that Lucius assumed her to be a loose-knickered gold digger.
Though it happened that the truth was worse. When it came to Draco, it appeared that she was just loose-knickered, period.
A muscle in Lucius's otherwise expressionless face twitched. If glares were Unforgivables, Hermione was certain she'd be writhing on the ground in the throes of a painful death, pre Avada Kedavra, death.
"Don't try my patience, girl," Lucius sneered, learning forward in his seat. He bared his upper teeth at her in a feral manner. "I would remind you that no one else knows you are here."
That wasn't very bright of him. Hermione was disappointed. She had expected more. "I don't want your money. I want out of this marriage. The sooner you provide us with assistance, the sooner I can leave."
Lucius was silent for a moment, studying her. He drummed his long fingers on his desk. "Very well. I will provide the name of a useful contact. He will locate an expert, in a manner of speaking, a person who should be able to undo Fida Mia. Given that I am unable to leave these premises, it will be left to you and my son to see to it that his marriage is annulled post haste."
**
It didn't take a great intellect to predict that Draco would be waiting for her outside the study by the time Lucius had ironed out various details with her.
After being dismissed by Lucius, Hermione exited the room and shut the doors firmly behind her, leaning heavily against the smooth mahogany. She had barely managed to get her heart beating at a somewhat normal rate when Draco took hold of her arm and dragged her further along the corridor.
He had had an extremely quick shower and change, from the look of him. His hair was dripping onto the collar of his white, long sleeved cotton shirt. He was wearing jeans and a very troubled expression.
Amazingly, despite having attended boarding school with him for seven years, Hermione couldn' t recall ever seeing Draco in anything other than his school uniform, Quidditch gear or function robes. It was slightly discombobulating to realise that Draco Malfoy owned and wore jeans, like any other normal teenager.
"What did he say to you?" Draco demanded.
The scent of rosemary wafted down from his wet hair. It was his shampoo. Hermione noticed that the last two buttons on his shirt were fastened wrongly.
"Well?" he snapped, when she didn't immediately tell him.
Hermione sighed, massaging her temples in an effort to stave off the headache she could feel was coming. She wanted nothing more than to brood over a steaming mug of tea, preferably in her own room at Hogwarts. Some of her more brilliant schemes through the years had been hatched over the steam of a large mug of overly steeped, black, sweetened tea.
In the absence of the familiar comforts, she settled for the next best thing, irking an already irked Draco Malfoy.
"Your father offered me a frog and a curse manual in exchange for you. I rather think I got the better end of the deal."
Oh, she was definitely spending too much time with him. His sharp tongue was starting to rub off on her.
He looked slightly stupefied for the briefest of moments, and then surprised her by grabbing onto her shoulders and pushing her up against the portrait lined wall of the corridor.
"Oi there," grumbled a sleepy, ruff-wearing wizard in a nearby painting. "No need for that."
Hermione blinked in pain as the back of her head came into contact with a gilt-edged picture frame. At the same time, a curious tingling sensation assailed the skin of her hip and