Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Tea and Sympathy.

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"I just don't understand why he suddenly wants to entertain me.  At bloody Wimbledon, of all places!"

Grimmauld Place kitchen was a far cheerier place now that the Potters had moved in full time.  Bright sunlight slanted through the large windows, reflecting off the shiny surfaces of the new kitchen units.  Hermione was sitting at the large oak table in the centre of the room, cradling a cup of Earl Grey while Ginny balanced baby Lily on her knees.

"But what the hell is he up to, Ginny?" Hermione asked again.

"Which one?" Ginny answered.  "The sneaky git whose invited you to watch a Muggle game and then go to a posh party?  Or the sneaky git who decided to take Theodore Nott, rather than you to the previously mentioned sneaky git's Muggle game and posh party?"

"Ha bloody ha.  Malfoy, of course."  Hermione had another hour to go before she was due back at Hogwarts, and her nerves were beginning to fray.

Ginny shrugged and frowned.  "No idea.  Have you asked Ron about it?"

Hermione could feel her face flaming.  "No, and I don't want you to mention it to him, Gin.  Ron always had a problem with Malfoy, and, Auror or not, I can't trust him to be objective."

And he would want to take over.  And bring up the past.  She could feel her eyes begin to prickle, and the scar on her arm itched.  She shouldn't go.  This was ridiculous.

"I can imagine.  Sorry."  Ginny cut a slice of cake and pushed it over to Hermione, her expression warm and slightly pitying.  

Hermione blinked furiously and took another sip of her tea, welcoming the sharp tang of the liquid on her tongue.

"Eat," Ginny ordered before cutting another slice for herself.  Lily grabbed at it, and Ginny broke off a small piece for her to taste.  The baby cooed and giggled as she stuffed it into her mouth.

"So...," Ginny said.  "Professor Snape, then?"  She slurped some more of her tea, keeping the hot mug carefully away from Lily while the baby reached for more cake.

Hermione shot her friend a nervous look and shrugged a little, a thin smile curving her lips.    Her throat was tight, so she drank another sip of tea to try to ease it.  How on earth could she possibly explain?  "Gin, I... had no idea he had such an extraordinary... that he is..." Impossible?  Frustrating?  Witty?  Amusing?  Amazingly tender and responsive in bed?  "... not Ronald," she finished helplessly.

Ginny rolled her eyes, but she smiled as she helped Lily to grab another handful of fruitcake.  "Hermione... You know that I understand why you and Ron split up, even if Harry still can't get his head around it.  He was never going to be able to keep up with you, and you were never going to accept... well... this." She jiggled Lily again on her knee by way of illustration.

Hermione shifted in her seat.  A sudden image of a red-faced Ron sitting at the very same table that they were at now flashed before her eyes, his face twisted and ugly in vibrant hurt and recrimination.  The echo of his anger was suddenly very loud in the cosy, brightly lit kitchen.

Then she saw a vision of Severus, his face clouded by something similar as she'd dumped him off her sofa onto the rug in her sitting room.  

She fought to return to the reason for her visit.  "Ginny, has Harry said anything to you about the Malfoys?" she asked abruptly.

"Not since Malfoy senior passed his rehabilitation order."  Ginny frowned. "I thought the Malfoys were a faded force.  Assets stripped.  Out of the limelight."  

Lily began fussing on her knee, and Ginny shushed her with a baby cup of juice.  For a few moments, all that could be heard in the kitchen was the determined sucking noise the baby made.  Hermione looked hard at the little girl, safe and protected in her mother's arms.  

Almost the same age as Harry had been when Voldemort murdered his parents and left him an orphan.

"I think Malfoy's up to something," she said, lifting her chin defiantly.  "And I'm going to find out what."  

Ginny narrowed her eyes.  "Do you think it's just Lucius?" she asked.  "I heard Draco was released a few weeks ago from his work placement."

Hermione looked at her friend blankly, and Ginny laughed – a short, sharp sound.  "Don't you read the Prophet any more?  Accio last month's Prophet!"

Hermione stared at the front page.  Draco Malfoy's sneering face stared out at her with unconcealed distaste.  

'Draco Malfoy Rehabilitated!' the headline read.  'Malfoy Scion Rejoins Society!' She skimmed the leading article.

"But what about Wimbledon?"  Hermione asked.  "Why on earth invite me to a tennis tournament, of all places?"

Ginny shrugged.  "Public place.  Lots of Muggles." She waggled her eyebrows. "He's probably counting on you thinking you were safe there...?"

Hermione pulled a face.  

"What is tennis all about anyway?"  Ginny added, expertly flicking her wand to conjure a thin stream of brightly coloured bubbles for the baby.  Lily cooed in delight, waving her fat little hands at the translucent spheres.

"Two players use a racket, erm... like a wooden... pan-shaped thing," she spread her hands, "about this long, to hit a small soft ball at each other over a net."

"Small like a snitch small?"  Ginny flicked her wand again, and more magical bubbles erupted from its tip.

Hermione shook her head.  "Like an apple.  Or an orange, I suppose."

"Oh."  Ginny sounded unimpressed.  "Sounds like fun."

"It's very popular," Hermione countered.  "Tickets for these big tournament finals sell out as fast as the Quidditch World Cup.  I'm not going to enjoy it, Ginny – I'm going to see what Malfoy wants from me."  She rubbed her forearm distractedly.  

"Mmm–hmmm."  Ginny carefully levitated the tea pot to refill Hermione's empty cup.  "Have you spoken to Sn...Severus since you threw him out of your rooms?"

Hermione shook her head.  "He's avoiding me.  Keeps playing musical chairs at High Table and hiding behind his newspaper in the staff room."  Her tea cup rattled in its saucer.  "I should apologise."

"Bollocks to that!"  Ginny cut in staunchly.  "From what you told me about it, he should be the one apologising to you!"

Hermione felt the tears returning to her eyes.  She took a deep, shaky breath and smiled bravely across the table at her friend.  "Maybe it was just a stupid mistake after all," she said.  "If he wasn't prepared to be seen out with me..."

She recalled the flash of hurt in his eyes as he had scrambled to his feet.

"Sod him, then," Ginny pronounced with the assurance of the happily married before leaning over towards Hermione.  "Plenty more fish in the sea.  So, who are you taking with you?"

Hermione sighed.  "Theodore Nott."

"I thought Snape was taking Nott!" Ginny sat backwards in surprise.

There was a short, embarrassed pause.  "As soon as Severus left the room, I Floo-called Theodore and invited him before Severus could."

"That's slightly sad, sweetie." Ginny's tone was sardonically sympathetic.

Hermione's head landed with a thunk on the table.  "I know," she said, her voice slightly muffled.

"Funny, though," Ginny added, smirking.  "Pity you can't get any tickets for love nor money.  I'd pay quite a bit to see Snape's reaction to your date."

"It's not a date," Hermione mumbled, head still on the table.  When had her life become so ridiculous?  "I am never going on a date again.  And certainly never with another bloody Slytherin."

Ginny snorted in disbelief.  "Have you told Nott that?" she asked.

***

The singing had begun.  Again.  

Narcissa Black Malfoy scraped her fingertips across the fine silken sheets and wondered if there was a charm or a jinx that could safely induce temporary mutism.  

The voice from the bathroom rose in both volume and wailing atonality.

She toyed with Langlock – not particularly appealing, as it could cause the target to choke to death.  Perhaps a variant of Obliviate?  If the subject could not remember how to sing... Would that stop the appalling noise?

The sound of the hotel's shower was now almost entirely drowned out by the tuneless bellowing.

She tapped her wand (newly transfigured to resemble a fine-nibbed ink pen) on her fingers.

A thought struck her.  If she turned the water to icy cold, perhaps...?

Abruptly, the ghastly caterwauling ceased, replaced by a gratifyingly high-pitched shriek and a frantic scrabbling of limbs.

 And she relaxed back onto the cool pillows behind her.  

"Are you alright, darling?" she called, pitching her voice somewhere near to dutiful concern.

His muffled response was inaudible, thank Circe.  She wondered how long it would take him to work out that the hot water was no longer flowing.  From the sound of the swearing and fumbling in the adjoining chamber, it was going to take some time.

She sighed again, her eyes wandering about the beautifully appointed hotel suite.  

The sex was diverting... But the intellect was distinctly mediocre.  She wondered if all Muggle sportsmen were so... limited.  

What to do, what to do....

A sudden and impatient scratching at the great sash window to her left caused her to jump slightly.  

Narcissa recognised one of the Malfoy's grey post-owls silhouetted against the window in the bright morning sunshine.  It was tapping at the glass with an arrogance that reminded her of its master.  She wondered what Lucius was up to... And a delicious thrill coursed through her at that thought.  

She flicked her wand to admit the post-owl.

Carefully, she opened the letter it proffered, her eyebrows rising in surprise as she began to read Draco's carefully worded missive.

"What the FUCK?"

Her lover stood in the doorway, eyes popping in horror as he stared at her.

Narcissa looked back at him in surprise for his uncouth outburst – until she realised that the post-owl was sitting perched on the elaborate golden bedside lamp.

There was a short, charged silence.

"Yes, darling?" she asked nonchalantly, turning the letter over in her hands.  Really... Draco's handwriting had deteriorated quite dreadfully.

"There's... there's a fucking OWL in the room!" her lover stuttered, holding on to the towel about his hips with one hand and pointing stupidly at the bird by her side.  "What the fuck..."

"Do watch your language, darling," she rebuked him calmly, finishing the letter and fingering the two green and purple tickets that had accompanied it.  Her lips curled slightly.

"But... but... It's just sitting there...!"  

Narcissa rolled her eyes in some irritation.  "Well, of course it's just sitting there, you foolish man.  It's waiting to be paid."  

He made to speak again, but her wand flicked and there was silence in the room.

Narcissa allowed her gaze to travel from his perfectly formed chest, across the tight nipples and deliciously toned abdomen, to his slack jaw and glassy-eyed expression. So, so stupid, she thought.  Pity.

Her attention returned to the letter and the tickets in her hand, and she smiled.  

Clever boy, she thought.

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A/N: beaweasley2, Clairvoyant and nagandsev are magic. So is JKR.

The next chapter of this tale will be up in a couple of weeks – in which we will see the plot thickening....