Chapter 9

Chapter 9: And Promises to Keep...

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"Have you ever watched tennis in the flesh before, Professor Granger?" Lucius Malfoy asked as he led her along the maze of wide corridors and up shallow staircases towards their seats.

Hermione risked a look over her shoulder. She could not see Severus and Draco in the mass of people around them, but Nott was just behind her. He winked and grinned, tipping his boater in a mock salute.

She turned back, about to reply, "No, not really," but lost her train of thought as she stumbled slightly on the fine, dark green carpet, clutching on to Malfoy's arm more firmly for support. He responded by tightening it firmly against his side.

Around them, Muggles bustled and jostled along the corridor, speaking excitedly to each other.

Hermione fought down the sense of panicked claustrophobia that clawed at her throat as she was drawn along on Lucius Malfoy's arm.

Where is he? Why didn't he follow?

Oblivious to her frantic thoughts, Lucius chuckled. "I take it from your silence that you are not a follower of sporting events, Professor. But no matter! I hope that the occasion will make up for any shortcomings in the game itself."

Hermione's hand was trapped firmly between Lucius' elbow and his chest. She flexed her fingers. Where is Severus? "I...erm... No... no," she stuttered politely, her feet catching a little on the carpet beneath her feet.

Many of the surrounding people seemed to peel away, continuing along the wide corridor before them. She felt herself manoeuvred along briskly, borne powerlessly away, as Lucius directed her to the right and along another smaller corridor towards a second longer staircase.

This will never bloody do! She was not used to being guided along so forcefully, and the panic that threatened to consume her at his actions resurfaced. She pushed it determinedly away. Get a grip, Hermione! she berated herself. Taking a deep breath, she flexed her trapped fingers, making to pull her hand away from his arm. "Mister Malfoy," she began firmly.

"Lucius, please!" he corrected, gripping her arm tighter as they approached the second staircase.

She looked upwards. These steps appeared to lead up to an open space at the top. She could see the bright blue of the sky pouring light into the stairwell. Hermione could hear Nott right behind her, his breath huffing slightly and his feet tripping occasionally on the risers of the steps. In contrast to the younger man behind her, Malfoy appeared to be very fit and healthy. He did not seem to be breathing more heavily than usual, and the pressure of his arm on her right hand remained firm and constant.

"Professor Granger, you cannot imagine what a change has been wrought in me over these past years," Lucius spoke smoothly as they approached the top of the staircase.

Hermione could feel an increase in anticipation in the atmosphere... an eager anticipation. Lucius increased the pace of their climb, practically bouncing from step to step, and he urged her upward. She could hear Nott's footfalls falling steadily further behind.

"Oh... yes?" she managed, now using her other hand on the stair rail to pull herself along. She was beginning to regret her recent lack of exercise. The life of a schoolmistress was regrettably sedentary.

Malfoy chuckled – she could feel his ribs move against her trapped hand. "Yes, Professor Granger! Since the Fall, I have had to embrace many new ideas... adopt new thinking patterns... take up ballroom dancing. My Rehabilitation... encouraged me to delve deeply into Muggle culture and society. I have achieved a far greater understanding of these astonishingly fascinating people."

She paused, pulling him to a standstill on the steps still a few feet before the top. "The fall?" she asked, cursing her breathlessness.

A shadow seemed to cross Malfoy's handsome face for a second, but he smiled once again and waved his free hand airily above him. "Why, the Fall of the Dark Lord, my dear lady," he explained. "The end of days," he added quietly, his pale eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her shiver.

Her arm itched. Mudblood, a voice hissed in her mind.

Lucius leaned forwards. "Imagine!" he whispered, the heat from his breath caressing her cheek. "Muggles have no magic, but despite that terrible handicap, they can still wield such power."

She wondered if he could hear the thumping of her heart in her chest, and then she realised that the pounding noise in her ears was the sound of Nott's heavy feet thumping up the stairs to where they were standing.

Nott reached the silent pair and stopped, looking between both of them, breathing heavily. "Well, thanks for waiting," he gasped sourly. "Bloody Muggle cigarettes... I knew they were bad for me!"

Lucius leaned back away from her and rolled his eyes. "You should take up the foxtrot, Mr Nott," he sneered. "It does wonders for one's... stamina. Come, Professor," he added with a flourish, "we have a tennis match to attend."

***

"Darling, do come along!" Impatience tempering her voice, Narcissa Black-Malfoy swept through the Members' Enclosure of the All England Club. Her Muggle lover trotted slightly behind her, clearly still somewhat overwhelmed by his surroundings.

"I can't believe we've got tickets for the mens' final," he said for the seventh time in less than an hour.

"I can't believe that we are so late in getting here," she muttered under her breath as they moved quickly between the now virtually empty picnic tables. The Muggle waiters and waitresses were clearing up empty champagne bottles and strawberry punnets. A few latecomers were still finishing off their drinks.

She paused before her reflection in the large windows of the entrance hallway to take in her appearance, self-consciously straightening her back and tossing her hair backwards as she regarded her décolletage critically. The charms were holding well. She nodded in satisfaction.

"You look beautiful, baby," he murmured behind her, curling his large hands about her slim waist, pulling her uncomfortably off balance – and springing back with a startled yelp as her shrewdly executed wandless hex struck, shooting a sharp burst of sparks into his skin.

"Static electricity, darling," she explained soothingly, still looking at herself in the window while he rubbed his hands to dissipate the pain.

"Simply shocking, Mother...," Draco's languid drawl caused her to smile even more widely as she turned to greet her son.

She looked her boy up and down. "Darling," she cooed, noting his girth, the sheen on his skin, his unhealthy pallor and reddened cheeks. "You look marvellous."

Draco smiled at her, as if he could read her real response. "Never better, darling. I thought you were already up in the Box," he added, flicking a brief and calculating look at the Muggle beside her. "Father arrived a few minutes ago... along with our other guests."

He moved to one side, and Narcissa could see that Severus Snape was sitting, pale and still, on one of the garden chairs beside Draco. He did not acknowledge her. Narcissa frowned... this was unexpected.

"Hi! You must be Draco. Cissy has told me all about you!"

Draco winced and recoiled from the rough hand that had been thrust towards him. He looked at his mother again and flicked his fingers at her impertinent paramour who immediately froze where he stood, the foolish, open smile still on his face.

"I use that one, too," Narcissa admitted, moving slightly away from her lover and casting another evaluative look at the still and silent Snape.

"Apes," spat Draco quietly.

She blushed, glancing again at the stupid Muggle tennis coach, his handsome face stuck unblinkingly in that rictus grin of surprise.

"Well, I suppose at least this one is pretty," Draco grudgingly allowed with a long suffering air.

"But insufficient for my... long term needs," Narcissa finished.

"You want father back," Draco's voice was flat and calm, his pale eyes watchful.

She sighed, frustrated, and shook her head. "Not like he is now. He is not the same man he once was, Draco."

"He wants you," Draco stated, inspecting the fingernails on his right hand. It shook slightly under his gaze, and she thought she saw him blush slightly. "The Manor is in decline... the magic is failing. You must return." His eyes rose to meet hers again. "Consider it a protection of my inheritance," he added, and she heard a certain ring of arrogant authority in his voice.

Narcissa made a small disparaging noise. "Putting the Manor in my name was no more than a mechanism to avoid the seizure of the estate by the Wizengamot. I was stuck in that mouldering pile like some sort of prisoner while Lucius was Rehabilitated... Then when he came home, all the ungrateful bastard did was watch Muggle musicals and take dancing lessons. He did nothing... he was nothing. There is nothing left of my husband."

She flicked a glance at the motionless man beside her and felt her chin rise defensively. "Naturally, I needed an outlet for my... energies. I..."

Draco held up one meticulously manicured finger to her lips, startling her into silence. "I said that you wanted him back, Mother," he whispered quietly. "I promised in my letter that I could deliver him to you as he was... before the Mudblood-loving Potterlings took away everything from him!"

Narcissa felt a shiver of adrenaline race across her skin. She shot another look at the silent figure of Severus Snape, sitting neatly with his hands folded before him, a thin stream of red strawberry juice on his chin.

"How will you do it?" she breathed.

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A/N: Clairvoyant and beaweasely2 are wonderful. Thank you also to all those who read and review.... I'm sorry about the gaps between updates recently. Real Life... grrrr!