Unanticipated

Disclaimer: I do not own anything associated with Harry Potter; I do not earn money by writing this story.

A/N: A huge thanks to nastygrl and dynonugget for the beta work, feedback and hand-holding. And to Sempra, who I think can do magic with words!

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Unanticipated

Deep yellow roses were extended to her to compare the length of the stem to the height of the heavy crystal vase Hermione was holding. She had to crouch down so she was level with Nippy.

The house-elf had started consulting her on decisions regarding the household that had to be made on a day-to-day basis. Playing Lady Malfoy felt strange and held the danger of becoming used to it, but it gave Hermione something to do during the many days she spent alone at the Manor.

She and Nippy had gone to the greenhouses for the roses, as Draco had mentioned that he would have visitors coming to the Manor soon. She found the entrance hall to be so cold and uninviting that she had wanted to place a bouquet of flowers on a small table beneath a tall mirror in a gilded frame.

At the sudden sound of Apparition, Hermione straightened and turned around. A Death Eater was standing in the lobby.

"Draco?"

Five more sharp cracks echoed in the hall, and for a few seconds Hermione looked at the assembled Death Eaters without comprehension, and the Death Eaters looked at her in return.

She let the vase in her hands drop to the floor, where it shattered into a myriad of pieces, the tiny shards of glass glistening like a diamond-encrusted carpet.

"Nippy, get Master!" she screamed at the house-elf and turned.

Yanking up her robes, she ran a few steps, and when she had passed the immediate vicinity of the broken vase, she shook off her low-heeled slippers and took off at a fast run in bare feet. Only moments later she could hear them behind her, just around the corner. She ran past several doors that were closed to her when Draco was not in the Manor. Finally, she reached the library, and the door gave way under the pressure of her hands, and she stumbled through.

On the verge of hysteria, she looked for a place to hide. Finding none, she curled up into a tight ball behind a settee, hugging her knees to her chest.

When she heard the quiet noise of the door opening, she closed her eyes, willing them away, telling herself like a child that they would not see her when she could not see them.

Footsteps halted at first, then crossed the vast room, shortly stopping at the desk, before nearing the small group of comfortable sofas and armchairs.

"What do we have here?"

She lifted her tear-stained face to her death.

Something had gone wrong. They had found her out, had found the Weasleys out, had found the entire resistance out.

Had he sent them? Had he sent them so he never had to see her in his house again?

The Death Eater in front of her took hold of her arm roughly and pulled her into a standing position. A gloved hand neared her neckline. To touch? To rip?

"You are early, friend."

The tip of Draco Malfoy's wand was suddenly pressed deeply into Theodore Nott's side of the throat.

"Would you be so kind as to unhand my woman, Nott?"

And then Theo screamed.

***

It had taken Hermione the better part of an hour to convince Draco to let her attend supper with his closest friends. Citing the argument that she did not want to appear frightened or even intimidated by them, she had insisted. Only when she had assured him that they feared him too much to do anything inimical had he conceded.

Hermione sat mutely through soup and fish and meat courses, keeping her face a careful, disinterested blank slate and her back straight as a rod. Inside, she was giddy with nerves due to the little details her former classmates would drop carelessly in her presence. A woman, little more than a servant in their eyes, did not pose a threat to them.

The resistance had obviously been dealing heavy blows to the regime, but she had been deprived of any significant news for so long that it was hard to follow the events. She tried to repeat the important information over and over again in her mind so it would be easier to write down later in the privacy of her bedroom. If she had a wand, she could have extracted the memory and send it, but that would be fatal if the memory were to fall into the wrong hands. No, she would have to rely on Arthur Weasley's ability to read between the lines of her letters.

By the time the pudding arrived, one of the guests directed the conversation to her.

"You are very quiet. I apologize. We should have realized that our topic of conversation must not be very appealing to a woman."

Marcus Flint had not changed much since his last year in Hogwarts.

"I did not realise that my opinion was of interest."

"The opinion of a beautiful woman is always of interest." Flint pressed his hand against his chest and bowed slightly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. She had the distinct feeling she was being mocked, but could not fault his manners.

"So, you are a Knockturn Alley whore?"

Her heart clenched, but she looked at Theodore Nott levelly for long moments during which he started shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"The whores of Knockturn Alley don't accept Warren girls. Knockturn Alley whores are all purebloods."

For several seconds, one could have heard a pin drop.

Then Hermione smiled sweetly and popped another spoonful of chocolate-sponge pudding into her mouth.

Blaise Zabini leaned back and laughed.

"Touché, Nott. That's what you get for terrifying a smart woman."

Although the atmosphere had been much lighter after the little incident, Hermione was thankful to be able to make her excuses when the men wanted to retire to the billiard parlour.

The parlour had been the Malfoy men's sanctuary for centuries, ever since a Lady Malfoy from France had brought the first billiard table as part of her dowry in the late fourteen hundreds. The very same table still stood at the far end of the parlour, which had been expanded repeatedly to accommodate several more tables.

Draco had been excited when, for the first time, his father had allowed him to join him and his friends after dinner in the large room. Its panelled walls, deep green curtains and thick carpets gave the parlour a comfortable feel. There were several taxidermised animals adorning the walls, one of them an ancient crumple-horned snorkack. It used to amuse him to hear about the Lovegood's quest to find the extinct creature; now it gave him a strange feeling to think that maybe the Lovegoods were extinct themselves.

"Where did you find her? She is so different from the women we usually meet."

Blaise Zabini took a deep draught from his tumbler.

"Watch it, Blaise. You just said it. I found her."

"She's pretty. But she's no Daphne Greengrass," Marcus Flint supplied, pressing a glass of amber liquid into Draco's hand.

Draco scoffed and took a drink of his Firewhisky.

"Daphne Greengrass would not be able to find her own head without the help of her house-elf."

"Undermining pureblood values, Draco?"

"I don't think being stupid is a pureblood value, Nott."

Goyle, Nott, Crabbe and Flint were soon busy playing a wizarding version of snooker, the soft clicking of balls hitting against each other drifting through the room. Blaise Zabini sat down on the sofa next to Draco.

"I am quite taken with your little companion."

Draco arched an eyebrow. He felt a little disoriented, much more so than he should have after only some wine at supper and a single Firewhisky afterward.

"It's been a long time since we have shared a witch," Blaise said, hoping Draco was drunk enough not to kill him for the suggestion.

And not too drunk to find the idea appealing.

***

Already in the light and strangely colourless place between waking and slumber, she felt arms go around her shoulders, lifting her up, and then a hard body slipping behind her, cradling her.

"Draco," she mumbled softly, unwilling to open her eyes and leave the serene place that would lead her to rest and peace.

The covers were drawn away, but she did not feel cold. A warming charm must have been cast. Hands on her ankles, caressing her legs, her calves, pushing lightly, drawing her knees apart. Hands on her breasts...

Hermione's eyes shot open.

Horrified she looked at the dark head of Blaise Zabini, kneeling at the foot of her bed, his hands holding her thighs apart.

In panic, she tried to close her legs and started to struggle, but he was too strong, kept her open easily.

"Ssh. Don't fight. Be still."

It was Draco's voice in her ear, Firewhisky on his breath ghosting over her cheek, and she could not believe how betrayed she felt.

By him.

By her own body.

Her traitorous body that was arching up when Zabini's tongue took the first swipe. He knew exactly how to combine the firm strokes of the tip of his tongue with hard sucking on her most sensitive spot.

And hot breath in her ear.

"Let him."

Draco's mouth sucked gently on her neck.

"Let him."

His hands never left her breasts, teasing the tips into hard points.

"Look at him."

She opened her eyes and looked at the man feasting between her legs. His eyes closed, breathing her scent deeply.

"Look at what you do to him. He could not think about anything else since he first laid eyes on you. You have enchanted him."

The faint smell of Firewhisky wafted over her face when he spoke.

He pinched her nipples, and the sweet pain shot directly to where Zabini could multiply it tenfold.

"He is a master at this."

More hot breath.

"Give yourself over."

A lick along her throat.

"Submit."

At this, the sweet tension coiled into a tight spring, and with the next movement of his tongue, she bucked into his face and the spring let go.

They moved quickly. One moment she felt Zabini's mouth on her, prolonging her ecstasy, the next moment she felt a hard cock pushing into her, through the continuing spasms of her muscles.

Draco was on top of her, inside of her, moving, moving. She would not have thought it possible, but she could already feel the next orgasm building.

"Time to reciprocate," he whispered before he moved his upper body away from her, leaving her a bit bereft of physical contact.

The next moment, Blaise Zabini had straddled her upper body, his knees to the left and right of her torso.

He eased her wild hair away from her forehead and let his fingers caress her lips.

"Open."

She could not see what was going on beyond Zabini's strong thighs and abdomen. Draco knew exactly which angle to use for his slow, agonizing thrusts, his fingers all the while stroking at her, stroking...

She no longer cared.

Closing her eyes, she let him in, moved her tongue over the sensitive underside of the head and further down. He was gentle. Never demanding entrance too far; although her head was pinned under his body, and he had every possibility of forcing his way beyond what was comfortable for her.

When she felt Draco's movements become more erratic, his stroking more desperate, she took a deep breath through her nose and willed her body to focus and stay calm. With Zabini's next push, she grabbed his hips from behind and pulled him in deep.

He gave a surprised shout when the tightness of her throat encased him. No longer in control over his actions, he pressed deeper and started rocking against her throat with tiny movements until he shuddered and held still, and she could feel the pulsing of his seed spilling inside her.

Draco gave a last hard thrust, and the combined climax of the two men that she had brought on took her with them over the edge.

Later, when she felt the warm body of Blaise Zabini against her back and Draco's hands encasing her own in front of her, she felt drowsy and exhausted. Slipping into sleep at last, she heard Draco's voice softly.

"You are incredible."

***

Waking to an empty bed would have been a luxury just a few months ago. Now it felt too big, cold and lonely.

He had shared her.

He had lent her to one of his friends.

He had reminded her of what she really was.

***

"Girl!"

Zabini's voice stopped her in her tracks. Reluctantly, she made her way through the plush salon out to the cold marble glory of the entrance hall.

The black-robed wizards stood in a loose group, shiny silver masks dangling from their hands.

Hermione inwardly cringed at the sight of their knowing smirks. Keeping her face devoid of emotion, she stood and waited.

His mouth curling at the corners, Blaise stepped forward and traced the outline of her face with the tip of his finger. Hermione allowed him to do as he pleased but did not encourage him in any way. He lifted her hand. Kissing the palm, he placed a pair of beautiful diamond earrings on it.

"For services exceptionally well rendered."

The other men sniggered and leered. Draco stood in a stiff stance, glaring at his friends. Hermione looked at the sparkling pieces of jewellery in her hand. They were probably worth more money than she had ever seen at one time in her entire life. They would pay for papers or food for the family and potions for Ginny and ...

Hermione closed her fingers over the earrings. Turning to Draco, she took his hand and let the trinkets drop into it. Without another word she started for the stairs.

Zabini sounded genuinely surprised and slightly offended, shouting after her.

"Pet! Don't you like them?"

She turned around and looked straight into his eyes.

"Don't you know? The pimp always has to get his share first."

She had already turned her back on them and started to climb the stairs when he called out to her again.

"It wasn't meant this way!"

She faced them once more, smiling sadly.

"Blaise Zabini, you don't even know my name."

With that she disappeared into a hall, head held high.

"Are you going to let that slide?" Theodore broke the silence.

Draco looked in the direction in which she had vanished.

"It's time for you to leave." His heart was heavy.

***

He spent the least amount of time possible seeing his friends off, directed his steps to his rooms but did not find her. He tried the library next. Where was she?

She was not in the kitchen, chatting with Nippy, who had finally warmed to the concept of holding an actual conversation with a witch. He could not find her in her favourite spot for reading, overlooking the gardens. As he traced her presence throughout the house, visiting the places she was to be found most often, he realized that she truly had become part of his life. His home felt like home because of her, and now that he could not find her, the empty feeling inside of him quickly mixed with panic.

Finally he pushed open the doors to the rooms he had given her for her own use. The relief he felt upon seeing her staring out of the window was replaced by dread.

She was wearing her worn burgundy robes, expertly mended and laundered by his house-elves; they had not been disposed of, but put away for later use.

Although she must have heard him enter, she did not turn around or acknowledge his presence in any way. She was hugging herself as if she were cold.

"I wish to leave."