Chapter 3: Four Move Fool’s Mate
“She should have found them by now.” Ron paced up and down his room late one night as Harry sat at the foot of his bed, watching.
“Come on, Ron. I’m sure she’s alright. She told us herself she was safe in Sydney with her parents. She was ecstatic. She‘s probably just wrapped up in being with them again. Can you blame her?” Ron sighed, though as he began to speak again, Harry could still hear the panic in his voice.
“I just don‘t like that we haven‘t heard from her since then. I mean, she promised to write daily, and we haven‘t heard from her in two whole weeks! Something‘s wrong.” His last sentence was no longer panicky, but an irrational calm.
Harry shook his head to himself. He wouldn’t admit it, not wanting to give Ron reason to freak out more than he already was, but he was beginning to agree. Something had definitely gone wrong. The thought terrified him.
~~~ At The Manor ~~~
Hermione tossed and turned in the queen-sized bed she‘d grown almost accustomed to, a no-longer sleeping Draco beside her. The first week of her presence, he found this annoying. But now, after almost two weeks, he was saddened by it. She had yet to tell him what these apparent nightmares were about and it was beginning to worry him. Draco shook his head at the thought that he might even care.
‘She’s just a stupid little mudblood,’ he thought to himself as he attempted to shake her awake.
‘Yeah, a stupid mudblood who saved one of your best mates’ lives,’ another part of him debated.
“Granger! Granger, wake up!” he called into her ear with an edge to his voice. Hermione’s eyes shot open and the usual tears began to fill them. Draco shook his head again. “Come on,” he said to her a bit more gently. Her tears bothered him, and the last thing he wanted to do was make things worse.
“Breakfast,” he told her simply.
“Yeah. Right. Sorry,” Hermione said to him, whipping the wetness from her eyes quickly as if not wanting them to have been there in the first place. They climbed out of bed and dressed for the day. Hermione put on a short jean skirt that looked as though it had been hand-cut to that length, the edges frayed, and a blue fitted cotton-tee, low cut with a white lace cami underneath. He hated how she dressed. It was as if she was deliberately dressing in a way she thought would tease him the most.
‘I bet she is,’ he pondered to himself bitterly when she came out of the bathroom, her hair and makeup done.
‘One of these days, I swear I’ll make her pay for this!’
Hermione stepped out of the bathroom and paused when she laid eyes on the tall, masculine form that was Draco. He had on a pair of dark but faded blue jeans and a black t-shirt that formed to his built biceps.
‘He might be an arse, but he’s a good looking one, that’s for sure,’ she thought to herself with a shake of the head. She almost laughed out loud at her next thought.
‘Apparently he thinks the same about me, judging by the way his mouth is gaped open. Then again, he hasn’t had Pansy here to relieve him in at least two weeks. Poor guy. I’m so glad I’m a girl.’ Hermione let slip a small giggle, but luckily for her, it went unnoticed.
“Shall we go then?”
The two walked downstairs to the large dining room for yet another awkward meal. They had grown into a routine, though neither of them were able to grasp the general idea of the situation. This was Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger! Sworn rivals, forced into lives revolving around one another; them being each other’s only entertainment and company. Draco couldn’t even see his girlfriend, not that he minded, as she was an annoying leach, but she was good for one thing. One thing he was growing quite anxious to get again.
“Draco. Miss Granger.” Came the cold voice of Lucius once they’d gotten to the table. Hermione flashed him what she intended to be a smile but came out as more of a twitch of the mouth, and she took her usual seat. Draco took his as well, and was soon forking scrambled eggs into his mouth.
Hermione was beginning to know how Harry had felt all those years he had been forced to stay with his aunt and uncle at number four, privet drive. She felt as if the Malfoys had grudgingly taken her into their home, and it was all her own fault.
‘As if I actually want to be here?’ she thought. They had forced her into it. Well, Lucius had, at least.
“What?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence. Draco had been staring at her, and only now did he come to realize it.
“Huh? Er, nothing.” Draco’s face reddened and he turned it down to his plate so she would not see.
‘What am I going to have to do to get this chick in bed? And for more then just sleep, damn-it!’ To his relief, she accepted this with a shake of the head and roll of the eyes and returned to her breakfast.
For a few days now, Draco had made up his mind that he was going to use Hermione’s presence to his full advantage, but he was finding more difficult that he had anticipated. He needed to devise a plan, a way to get on the same playing field as the vixen who sat before him. For the past two weeks she had flaunted herself in front of him. She was determined to make him pay for keeping her here, and knew just how to do it. She was clever though, more clever than he wanted to give her credit for. She would only play her little game in the privacy of their bedroom, or out in the yard when no one was around. She was no fool, and across the table, she sat devising her own little plan.
Hermione smiled inwardly to herself as she took a bite of her sausage.
‘It’s working. He can’t keep his eyes off of me. If I keep this up, he’s bound to break soon. If I’m going to be miserable in this damn place, so is he!’ Yes. Hermione, sweet, brilliant Hermione was once again up to something, and one of those things was hiding her feelings. She had never been one to hide her feelings before, bursting into tears at the slighted of problems, but not now, no. Not here at the Malfoy Manner. Here she was a different woman. A strong woman. Dare she say it, a Malfoy, and as such, she was becoming just as conniving as her old schoolmate. How dare he keep her here. How dare he, after she and her friends saved him and Goyle from the fire that the dit, Crabbe, had created, killing himself in the process! If it weren’t for her, Harry, and Ron, all three would be dead! Need she remind him that they had nearly died in saving their two arch nemesis’? Those loathsome Slytherins?
‘For once in his life, he’s going to see something, want something, and will never, ever get it!’ The worked up teenage girl was so deep in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice Narcissa catch her husband’s eye, making him speak up.
“Shouldn’t Potter have come looking for you by now?” he asked as politely as he could bare. Hermione paused for a moment, placing her fork back on her dish before answering. Her etiquette had improved quite a bit since her arrival at the manor, and she was sitting straight up in her seat. Back at the Burrow she would surely be mocked for such pompous behavior, as the only member of the Weasley family to act in such a way was Percy.
“Assuming he knows I’m missing, he probably doesn’t know where to look. You didn’t leave any evidence to where I am,” she told him in an unusually small voice, afraid of giving him the “wrong answer”, though she looked him directly in the eyes.
“Well this just won’t do at all,” Lucius said to no one in particular, returning his glance to his wife as if asking what to do now.
“Should we write him?” Narcissa asked cautiously. She wasn’t sure if this was the suggestion he was looking for, but it was all she had.
“Would you like me to write him, Father?” Draco asked with a dangerous smile. Hermione looked up at him at the sound of these words, her eyes begging him not to continue. But he only widened his smile and went on.
“I’m sure he’d love to hear from his favorite old schoolmate.” His voice rang with sarcasm. His father smiled wickedly, liking what he’d heard. He had trained his son well after all, as far as he was concerned.
“Very well, Draco. Do it tonight. And make sure to tell him to come alone. It would be a disgrace to the Dark Lord to spill more wizarding blood than necessary.” He finished and the room fell back into silence. Hermione sat playing with her food, her appetite gone, her mind deep in thought.
For the first time since her arrival, Hermione was scared by what she had just heard.
‘Harry can’t come for me. It’d be suicide!’ She couldn’t allow this to happen, but how she would stop it she didn’t know.
A few hours later, Hermione was helping the house elf she now knew as Tisby scrub the kitchen floor after telling Draco that if she was going to be watched by the poor slave, she might as well make herself usefully. Draco sat on the black marble kitchen counter as far away from her as he was capable of being, a roll of parchment on his lap, and a quill in his hand, his owl seated beside him. He dipped the quill into a bottle of dark green ink and began to write:
Potter,
I’ve got the mudblood, and if you want her, you’ll need to come get her. Do it soon, because as much fun as I’ve been having with her, and believe me, I’m having fun with her, I don’t plan on keeping her around much longer. Come alone, or the girl dies.
~Draco Malfoy
Draco read the letter repeatedly, then, finding it as close to satisfactory as it could get, he rolled it up, tied it with a scrap of leather, and gave it to his owl sending it on it’s way. He figured that the worse of a situation Harry thought Hermione was in, the sooner he’d come to her rescue. The seventeen year old boy let out a heavy sigh then jumped down from the counter, walking over to the two females.
“Granger!” Draco’s sudden appearance had gone unnoticed and his call caused both Hermione and the elf to jump.
“Jeez! Malfoy, what do you want?” she asked him, dropping her scrub brush into a bucket of dirty soap water. She rose to her feet, wiping her hands on her skirt, and looked up at him, brushing some loose hair from her face.
“Care for a game of Chess?” he asked with a smirk. She looked at him suspiciously, but agreed.
In the drawing room Draco had set up the board on a small wooden table placed directly between two large red leather chairs, both positioned facing each other. He held out his hand, indicating for her to sit down, and sat opposite her.
“You do know how to play, right?” he asked her humorously, as if ready to make fun of her should her answer be no. She looked down at the set. It almost perfectly resembled the set Ron had, only it looked a lot newer and better cared for.
‘Wizard’s chess.’ She’d never played before, but knew the rules were exactly the same as muggle chess, which she knew how to play quite well.
“Of course,” she answered strongly and took her seat.
“Mudbloods first,” Draco indicated the board to her in a falsely polite manner. Hermione sneered at him and, with her eyes still on him, took her turn. She smiled as she watched him consider her move for a long moment and tentatively made his own. However, once his turn was taken he sneered right back at her in full confidence. With her poker-face in place, she pretended to stall before moving her next piece.
“So, Granger,” he started up in hope of driving her attention away from the game.
“Yes, Malfoy?” she replied casually. She wasn’t falling for it, but thought it might be fun to make him believe so.
“Missing your Weasel and Scarhead yet?” he asked with an evil smirk, feeding on her momentary flash of anger.
“Well of course I am,” she replied in a very collected manner.
“It’s your turn,” she reminded him, turning the attention back to the game.
“Oh. Right,” he mumbled and searched for a smart move.
“So which one are you dating?” He made his turn, and Hermione smiled. She had him right where she wanted him.
“What?” she asked and made her move just as he pulled his hand away from the board. He looked terrified. The only thing he could think to do was to continue the conversation.
“Well you must be dating one of them, right? Living with them too, for that matter?” It was a lucky guess. He made the only move he didn’t think would hang himself and sat back in his chair, confident that she was stuck.
“Um. Yeah. Ron. And we’re all living at the Burrow, though we’ll be moving soon,” she told him carelessly and moved one last piece.
“Oh, and Check Mate.”
Draco’s face turned sour. That was impossible. He leaned back in and examined the board carefully. It was true.
“That can’t be,” he mumbled to himself. Hermione couldn’t help but smile.
“How- How did you do that?” Her smile grew.
“It’s called Fool‘s Mate. Don’t tell me you don’t know it,” she smirked in a way he was sure only he knew how to do.
“My head wasn’t in it,” he excused himself and leaned back in his chair once more. Hermione did the same.
“So how much longer d’you think you guys are going to keep me here?”
“What makes you think ‘we’re’ keeping you here at all?” Hermione looked a him questioningly, which Draco noticed. He leaned in close to her so that she could hear him properly.
“Let me make this clear. I-Had-Nothing-To-Do-With-This. Moreover, I-Want-Nothing-To-Do-With-This.”
“What do you mean?” Hermione didn’t understand.
‘What does he mean he had nothing to do with this? Of course he did. He just wrote the letter to Harry. He wanted to write the letter to Harry!’
“Oh, believe me, Princess, there’s nothing I’d like more then to be stuck at home with you for weeks on end, but believe me, my father dragged me into this” he told her after leaning in even closer to make sure he was heard.
“So why the hell have you been watching me like a hawk?! Why haven’t you just left me leave?!” Hermione couldn’t believe her ears. She had been stuck at the Manor for almost three weeks, and was now finding out that she might not have to have been. She was angry. She was confused.
“Would you keep it down!?” Draco snapped in a hushed tone, genuinely worried that his father might hear them.
“You’re not the only one who’s neck’s on the line here! I don‘t give two shits what kind of blood you've got, but my father- My father would kill us both, my mother and me, without hesitation if he knew we weren't going to help avenge the Dark Lord‘s death!” Hermione went silent.
“I- I didn’t realize you’d been forced into this,” Hermione told him in a small voice about a minute later.
“I shouldn’t have given you such a hard time.” Draco shook his head at her words.
“Don’t go there, Granger. I don’t need you going all soft on me.” Hermione smiled. He was so stubborn it was amusing.
“We really don’t have to hate each other, you know. We could, at least, we could try, to be friends,” she said awkwardly, not sure how he’d react. Draco shrugged.
“I guess,” he said sheepishly. He wasn’t about to admit that he wouldn’t mind being friends with a mudblood. Inside, he had ulterior motives.
‘Friends is one step closer to lovers,’ Draco confirmed for himself. Little did he know, his little vixen had already come to this conclusion.
‘I’ll have him right where I want him. If he thinks that telling me he’s on my side will make things easier, make me easier, he’s is so wrong.’