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Mar. 3rd, 2007 11:58 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
dedra.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
tamingthemuseTitle: Feline Intervention
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
spikespetslayer
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Rating: G
Summary: Sometimes it's good to have a push in the right direction--by any means necessary...
Hermione Granger didn’t get the reputation she had as a know-it-all and an Auror just by intelligence alone. She combined word with deed, knowledge with action, and always came out a winner somehow in the end. Such was the case now.
It had taken time to clear Draco Malfoy of all charges, but that was a commodity that they could both afford to spend freely, as was his money for the best lawyers and defense teams the Wizarding world had at its disposal. Within six months after their flight from Mecca and Hermione’s falling-out with Harry, they had successfully proved his innocence in front of the Wizengamot with Harry’s begrudging testimony. When subpoenaed by your superiors and dosed with Veritaserum, it becomes difficult to curl your tongue around the lies that have been a staple in your life. Harry was not the first to discover this hard fact, but he was the first to lose a friend and partner because of it.
Hermione ignored the pleading looks that he sent her throughout Draco’s trial, as well as the multiple Owls that he sent during the secluded weeks afterward. She still retained a soft spot for Hedwig, but Harry’s missives were tossed directly into the fires of the wooden cookstove that she refused to replace in her cottage in the Hebrides, despite Draco’s constant urging and pleas. Draco had received an Owl of his own from Pansy that had joined Harry’s in the stove without being read. He didn’t need to hear anything that she had to say, especially after the way that she had humiliated Hermione in front of the rest of the Aurors.
They spent their days getting to know one another, their nights in front of the fireplace reading and talking. They still had yet to sleep together but Draco knew that it would take the swotty Gryffindor time to learn to trust him, so he didn’t push her. He let her set the pace and take the lead, earning him more points in her eyes than if he had just taken things for granted.
He woke one morning to hear her stomping around the kitchen, muttering to herself as she cooked breakfast for the two of them. He opened the door gently, waiting for the usual flying pot or pan and finding none winging his way before stepping fully into the room. She was pacing around aimlessly until she looked up and saw him standing there, his eyes with a worried shine and his hands twisted into his trouser pockets to keep from fidgeting.
She spoke without preamble. “I got an Owl from MLE today.”
“I see. And?”
“I sent them one back—along with my wand and my badge. As of this morning, I quit the Magical Law Enforcement branch of the Ministry.”
It was only his incredible will power that kept his jaw from hitting the floor. A thousand questions burned in his mind that he refrained from asking, mainly because he didn’t want to encroach on her privacy and didn’t want her to hex his bollocks off. Instead, he crossed the room and pulled her into a warm hug, stroking her back soothingly.
Which prompted her to burst into tears.
With red-rimmed eyes she looked up into his open, caring face. “What the hell am I going to do now, Malfoy? Unemployed—and that is the only job I’ve had for the last five years. The only thing that I fucking well trained for since we left Hogwarts.”
He tucked her head under his chin, considering the possibilities. After a few moments of silence, he finally said, “Well, Hermione, how do you feel about traveling?”
He sensed more than felt her incredulous look.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They let the wind choose their direction, wherever it wished to carry them. From the Hebrides they had Apparated to Iceland to watch the magnificence of the volcanoes in Reykjavik. From there they went to India to view the Taj Majal in its splendor in the best time of the year—not too hot, not too cool. India quickly lost its glamour and they flew on a magic carpet to Iran to find the original Hanging Gardens of Babylon, then to Greece for a trip to the site of the Colossus of Rhodes.
In every city and venue, he treated her to the best the wizarding world had to offer. Potions ingredients, books, charms, knick-knacks, nothing was too rich or out of reach for this traveling pair. She took a perverse pleasure in sending blank wizarding postcards with Hedwig when she would bring Potter’s missives; Draco noticed the owl was gaining weight from the rich tidbits Hermione was feeding him but again reined in the impulse to chide her for it. It was her subtle revenge for Harry’s betrayal—make his owl too fat to fly. It was the only avenue of revenge she had opened to her at the time. That and the postcards. She was careful, though, to always have them appear a step behind them, one stop after where they actually were.
A year after the fated meeting in Mecca found them in Turkey, in Ankara. Hermione had discovered that there was a thriving community of wizards that were exploring the arithmetical properties of spells and she wanted to explore the possibilities further. Draco spent much of his time drinking dark, bitter Turkish coffee and smoking strong Turkish cigarettes, watching her speak in the universal language of numbers with a delight that he hadn’t seen in years.
A noise from a dark alley caught his ear and he excused himself to follow it to its source. In the bowels of the alley, far from light and any hope of warmth, was a starved, mewling kitten. It’s coat was silver, the same shade as his hair—a chilling coincidence, he thought. He scooped it up into one hand and cuddled it close to his chest and petted it until he was rewarded with purring. When it looked up at him, wondering where this wizard came from that was holding it so gently, he nearly dropped it in shock. One eye, the left, was a glassy ice blue that was nearly colorless, almost to the point of being gray; the other, the right, was deep amber, surrounded by a circlet of dark brown.
Draco Malfoy believed in portents and signs. He had hated Divination along with everyone else, but seers ran in his family for generations; his was the first without one, although his mother said he had an uncanny knowledge of when to cut and run. This kitten will bind us together, he thought.
Instead of returning to the café, he Apparated to their hotel room and ordered up some cream from the kitchen. He fed the kitten until it was full and dozy, then cleaned it with a wave of his wand. The kitten’s ribs no longer jutted through the thick, silver fur, nor was it’s belly concave with hunger. It slept on a thick purple velveteen pillow that Draco conjured specifically for that purpose with his new master hovering close by on the other end of the couch.
Draco pondered how to approach Hermione. She wanted control, but needed to feel like she belonged. He wasn’t certain how to bring that dichotomy to a harmonious conclusion but knew that if he truly wanted to stay with this woman, he would have to find a way.
He flooed down to the kitchen for dinner to be served at eight, carried the cat into the unused room in their suite, and went to shower before she returned to the hotel.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione made it back to the hotel around seven, animated and chatting about the breakthrough that she and several other Turkish wizards had made with their Arithmancy equations in relation to potions and charms. He allowed her to rattle on for a short time, then reminded her succinctly that dinner was going to be on the table at eight and would she join him?
While she readied herself, he checked on their new acquisition again. The second bowl of cream and the tuna that he’d left next to the pillow were gone and the kitten was scratching at the carpet in the corner. Realizing belatedly what the cat was searching for, he conjured a litter box out of a matchbox and placed it near the corner in question, relieved that the little alley cat obviously knew how to use one.
Draco heard Hermione calling him from the lounge and followed her voice. She stood in the center of the room, dressed in a flowing outfit of scarves and bangles. Her head was covered in a jeweled hijab with teardrop diamonds that brushed her forehead when she moved and a split front coat that covered silk trousers that hugged her curves. Although nearly every inch of her skin except her hands and face were covered with the bejeweled green silk, she was the sexiest woman he had ever laid eyes on.
He stepped forward as he regained his composure. “Hermione, you look fantastic,” he said, taking her hands. “Shall we?” he said, motioning to the cozy dining table and pulling her arm into the crook of his arm.
He held her chair for her as she sat, then took his place next to her instead of across from her, already aware that he would not be able to eat a bite for staring if he sat down across from her. She blushed prettily under his scrutiny and gestured to the outfit that she wore.
“It was a gift from the elders. They said that I should be a proper Turkish witch.”
“You’re breathtaking in it.” He fingered the silver lace tipping the sleeves. “Just curious, but why is it in my House colors?”
She blushed a deeper rose and dipped her head, not meeting his eyes. “They said that if I were to be a proper Slytherin bride, then I must wear the House colors.”
“How did they know?” His whisper barely disturbed the air in the room, but there was no doubt that she heard him; her head turned toward him suddenly and she gazed at him with wide copper-penny eyes.
“Draco, is there something that you’d like to ask me?” she said breathlessly. A mewling from the next room interrupted them; Draco knew what it was immediately, but Hermione’s curiosity was piqued.
She made her way to the empty bedroom and opened the door, squealing girlishly when a furry form wound its way around her legs. “Draco! Did you get this for me?” she said, turning to him with a sparkle in her eyes that was rarely absent these days.
“Actually, I found her in the alley,” he said, leaning his shoulder against the wall to keep him standing. “She was meowing so pitifully that I had to rescue her. It was the least that I could do.”
She scratched the kitten between her ears, listening to the purr that shook the small animal’s body. “Everyone needs rescued now and again. So, what do you think we’ll call her?”
He quirked his brow, then walked slowly toward her. “Don’t know, really. Did you look at her eyes?”
With the tip of her finger she coaxed the cat to open her eyes, gasping when she noticed the odd colored eyes and exactly what colors they were.
Draco gave her a depreciating smile. “I know. Most men give rings and tell you that the two of you belong together. Me? I give cats. I have to be different.”
Hermione looked at him and her eyes widened slightly. “So you’re saying…”
“Hermione Granger, would you marry me?”
Before he could think twice, his arms were full of fur, silk and warm woman. Somehow in the fray they were able to find each other’s mouths, kissing desperately in an attempt to get closer and crushing the cat in the process. Hermione broke away, yelping as Draco silently cursed and the cat leaped gracefully to the floor.
Draco looked down to the scratch oozing blood onto his palm and saw three droplets fall from Hermione’s hand onto his, their blood mingling. “Well, I guess impatience took care of that part of the ceremony, eh?” he said, throwing Hermione a crooked smile.
“But there’s so much more to do before we can actually get married,” she said.
He looked up from his hand with a mask of confusion. “Like what?” he said.
She touched a fingertip to his shimmering hair, then caressed the shell of his ear, drawing him closer. “Oh, I can think of a couple of things,” she said.
As their bodies pressed against each other, neither of them noticed a very self-satisfied cat sitting off to one side, wearing the appearance of a smile and licking drops of red off its paws. With a swish of its tail, she moved past the occupied couple and onto her purple velvet cushion, curling into a smug little ball.
Author:
spikespetslayerFandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Rating: G
Summary: Sometimes it's good to have a push in the right direction--by any means necessary...
Hermione Granger didn’t get the reputation she had as a know-it-all and an Auror just by intelligence alone. She combined word with deed, knowledge with action, and always came out a winner somehow in the end. Such was the case now.
It had taken time to clear Draco Malfoy of all charges, but that was a commodity that they could both afford to spend freely, as was his money for the best lawyers and defense teams the Wizarding world had at its disposal. Within six months after their flight from Mecca and Hermione’s falling-out with Harry, they had successfully proved his innocence in front of the Wizengamot with Harry’s begrudging testimony. When subpoenaed by your superiors and dosed with Veritaserum, it becomes difficult to curl your tongue around the lies that have been a staple in your life. Harry was not the first to discover this hard fact, but he was the first to lose a friend and partner because of it.
Hermione ignored the pleading looks that he sent her throughout Draco’s trial, as well as the multiple Owls that he sent during the secluded weeks afterward. She still retained a soft spot for Hedwig, but Harry’s missives were tossed directly into the fires of the wooden cookstove that she refused to replace in her cottage in the Hebrides, despite Draco’s constant urging and pleas. Draco had received an Owl of his own from Pansy that had joined Harry’s in the stove without being read. He didn’t need to hear anything that she had to say, especially after the way that she had humiliated Hermione in front of the rest of the Aurors.
They spent their days getting to know one another, their nights in front of the fireplace reading and talking. They still had yet to sleep together but Draco knew that it would take the swotty Gryffindor time to learn to trust him, so he didn’t push her. He let her set the pace and take the lead, earning him more points in her eyes than if he had just taken things for granted.
He woke one morning to hear her stomping around the kitchen, muttering to herself as she cooked breakfast for the two of them. He opened the door gently, waiting for the usual flying pot or pan and finding none winging his way before stepping fully into the room. She was pacing around aimlessly until she looked up and saw him standing there, his eyes with a worried shine and his hands twisted into his trouser pockets to keep from fidgeting.
She spoke without preamble. “I got an Owl from MLE today.”
“I see. And?”
“I sent them one back—along with my wand and my badge. As of this morning, I quit the Magical Law Enforcement branch of the Ministry.”
It was only his incredible will power that kept his jaw from hitting the floor. A thousand questions burned in his mind that he refrained from asking, mainly because he didn’t want to encroach on her privacy and didn’t want her to hex his bollocks off. Instead, he crossed the room and pulled her into a warm hug, stroking her back soothingly.
Which prompted her to burst into tears.
With red-rimmed eyes she looked up into his open, caring face. “What the hell am I going to do now, Malfoy? Unemployed—and that is the only job I’ve had for the last five years. The only thing that I fucking well trained for since we left Hogwarts.”
He tucked her head under his chin, considering the possibilities. After a few moments of silence, he finally said, “Well, Hermione, how do you feel about traveling?”
He sensed more than felt her incredulous look.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They let the wind choose their direction, wherever it wished to carry them. From the Hebrides they had Apparated to Iceland to watch the magnificence of the volcanoes in Reykjavik. From there they went to India to view the Taj Majal in its splendor in the best time of the year—not too hot, not too cool. India quickly lost its glamour and they flew on a magic carpet to Iran to find the original Hanging Gardens of Babylon, then to Greece for a trip to the site of the Colossus of Rhodes.
In every city and venue, he treated her to the best the wizarding world had to offer. Potions ingredients, books, charms, knick-knacks, nothing was too rich or out of reach for this traveling pair. She took a perverse pleasure in sending blank wizarding postcards with Hedwig when she would bring Potter’s missives; Draco noticed the owl was gaining weight from the rich tidbits Hermione was feeding him but again reined in the impulse to chide her for it. It was her subtle revenge for Harry’s betrayal—make his owl too fat to fly. It was the only avenue of revenge she had opened to her at the time. That and the postcards. She was careful, though, to always have them appear a step behind them, one stop after where they actually were.
A year after the fated meeting in Mecca found them in Turkey, in Ankara. Hermione had discovered that there was a thriving community of wizards that were exploring the arithmetical properties of spells and she wanted to explore the possibilities further. Draco spent much of his time drinking dark, bitter Turkish coffee and smoking strong Turkish cigarettes, watching her speak in the universal language of numbers with a delight that he hadn’t seen in years.
A noise from a dark alley caught his ear and he excused himself to follow it to its source. In the bowels of the alley, far from light and any hope of warmth, was a starved, mewling kitten. It’s coat was silver, the same shade as his hair—a chilling coincidence, he thought. He scooped it up into one hand and cuddled it close to his chest and petted it until he was rewarded with purring. When it looked up at him, wondering where this wizard came from that was holding it so gently, he nearly dropped it in shock. One eye, the left, was a glassy ice blue that was nearly colorless, almost to the point of being gray; the other, the right, was deep amber, surrounded by a circlet of dark brown.
Draco Malfoy believed in portents and signs. He had hated Divination along with everyone else, but seers ran in his family for generations; his was the first without one, although his mother said he had an uncanny knowledge of when to cut and run. This kitten will bind us together, he thought.
Instead of returning to the café, he Apparated to their hotel room and ordered up some cream from the kitchen. He fed the kitten until it was full and dozy, then cleaned it with a wave of his wand. The kitten’s ribs no longer jutted through the thick, silver fur, nor was it’s belly concave with hunger. It slept on a thick purple velveteen pillow that Draco conjured specifically for that purpose with his new master hovering close by on the other end of the couch.
Draco pondered how to approach Hermione. She wanted control, but needed to feel like she belonged. He wasn’t certain how to bring that dichotomy to a harmonious conclusion but knew that if he truly wanted to stay with this woman, he would have to find a way.
He flooed down to the kitchen for dinner to be served at eight, carried the cat into the unused room in their suite, and went to shower before she returned to the hotel.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione made it back to the hotel around seven, animated and chatting about the breakthrough that she and several other Turkish wizards had made with their Arithmancy equations in relation to potions and charms. He allowed her to rattle on for a short time, then reminded her succinctly that dinner was going to be on the table at eight and would she join him?
While she readied herself, he checked on their new acquisition again. The second bowl of cream and the tuna that he’d left next to the pillow were gone and the kitten was scratching at the carpet in the corner. Realizing belatedly what the cat was searching for, he conjured a litter box out of a matchbox and placed it near the corner in question, relieved that the little alley cat obviously knew how to use one.
Draco heard Hermione calling him from the lounge and followed her voice. She stood in the center of the room, dressed in a flowing outfit of scarves and bangles. Her head was covered in a jeweled hijab with teardrop diamonds that brushed her forehead when she moved and a split front coat that covered silk trousers that hugged her curves. Although nearly every inch of her skin except her hands and face were covered with the bejeweled green silk, she was the sexiest woman he had ever laid eyes on.
He stepped forward as he regained his composure. “Hermione, you look fantastic,” he said, taking her hands. “Shall we?” he said, motioning to the cozy dining table and pulling her arm into the crook of his arm.
He held her chair for her as she sat, then took his place next to her instead of across from her, already aware that he would not be able to eat a bite for staring if he sat down across from her. She blushed prettily under his scrutiny and gestured to the outfit that she wore.
“It was a gift from the elders. They said that I should be a proper Turkish witch.”
“You’re breathtaking in it.” He fingered the silver lace tipping the sleeves. “Just curious, but why is it in my House colors?”
She blushed a deeper rose and dipped her head, not meeting his eyes. “They said that if I were to be a proper Slytherin bride, then I must wear the House colors.”
“How did they know?” His whisper barely disturbed the air in the room, but there was no doubt that she heard him; her head turned toward him suddenly and she gazed at him with wide copper-penny eyes.
“Draco, is there something that you’d like to ask me?” she said breathlessly. A mewling from the next room interrupted them; Draco knew what it was immediately, but Hermione’s curiosity was piqued.
She made her way to the empty bedroom and opened the door, squealing girlishly when a furry form wound its way around her legs. “Draco! Did you get this for me?” she said, turning to him with a sparkle in her eyes that was rarely absent these days.
“Actually, I found her in the alley,” he said, leaning his shoulder against the wall to keep him standing. “She was meowing so pitifully that I had to rescue her. It was the least that I could do.”
She scratched the kitten between her ears, listening to the purr that shook the small animal’s body. “Everyone needs rescued now and again. So, what do you think we’ll call her?”
He quirked his brow, then walked slowly toward her. “Don’t know, really. Did you look at her eyes?”
With the tip of her finger she coaxed the cat to open her eyes, gasping when she noticed the odd colored eyes and exactly what colors they were.
Draco gave her a depreciating smile. “I know. Most men give rings and tell you that the two of you belong together. Me? I give cats. I have to be different.”
Hermione looked at him and her eyes widened slightly. “So you’re saying…”
“Hermione Granger, would you marry me?”
Before he could think twice, his arms were full of fur, silk and warm woman. Somehow in the fray they were able to find each other’s mouths, kissing desperately in an attempt to get closer and crushing the cat in the process. Hermione broke away, yelping as Draco silently cursed and the cat leaped gracefully to the floor.
Draco looked down to the scratch oozing blood onto his palm and saw three droplets fall from Hermione’s hand onto his, their blood mingling. “Well, I guess impatience took care of that part of the ceremony, eh?” he said, throwing Hermione a crooked smile.
“But there’s so much more to do before we can actually get married,” she said.
He looked up from his hand with a mask of confusion. “Like what?” he said.
She touched a fingertip to his shimmering hair, then caressed the shell of his ear, drawing him closer. “Oh, I can think of a couple of things,” she said.
As their bodies pressed against each other, neither of them noticed a very self-satisfied cat sitting off to one side, wearing the appearance of a smile and licking drops of red off its paws. With a swish of its tail, she moved past the occupied couple and onto her purple velvet cushion, curling into a smug little ball.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-04 12:53 pm (UTC)Yes, you've most certainly caught me in another pairing. ^_^
~Nebula