Draco, Theo, and Blaise leaned over the massive map spread across Draco's polished desk, the silence around them thick with tension. The dim light from the single desk lamp cast sharp shadows over their faces, emphasizing the intensity in their eyes as they pored over every detail, each man acutely aware of the gravity of the situation. They had been attacked—not only a breach of their usual dominance but a threat that now required a merciless answer.
The map of London lay like a battlefield between them, meticulously plotted with colored pins and markings. The pins—reds for high-risk zones, blues for known allies, yellows for intel points—were scattered across the city, creating a complex web of possibilities. They traced invisible routes over bridges, alleyways, and safe houses, examining every known asset and hiding place. Each pin held the potential to lead them closer to the one who dared strike at Draco, to the person who had disrupted the delicate, dangerous balance they maintained.
Theo's fingers skimmed over a line connecting two blue pins on the eastern edge of the map. His gaze hardened as he tapped the desk, the precision in his touch betraying his calculated, simmering rage. "This area," his voice was barely a whisper, yet the weight of it silenced the room further, "is where they're most vulnerable to us."
Blaise gave a grim nod, his eyes glinting with a deadly promise as he adjusted a few pins on the map, shifting their potential targets. They knew each other's strengths and weaknesses, and in this unspoken rhythm, they worked as a single force. They had always been a step ahead of the world, a unified front—but tonight, a ruthless urgency drove them to eliminate every possibility of further attack.
Draco, his jaw clenched, pushed a stack of intelligence files towards them, his steely gaze never leaving the map. The pain of the recent attack lingered in the tightness of his shoulders, a reminder of the threat that had hit too close to home. He traced a direct path through a network of high-risk zones, his eyes glinting with a dangerous intensity. "This," he finally said, his voice low, "is where we make them regret ever thinking they could come for us."
The door burst open with a resounding crash, and Hermione strode in, her eyes blazing with a fierce, unrelenting resolve that instantly captured the room's attention. The silence that followed was almost palpable; even the air seemed to thicken as her gaze fell on Draco, unwavering and sharp as steel.
His eyes darkened, a flash of irritation flickering before he masked it with his usual indifference. "Darling, we're in the middle of something," he murmured, his tone dismissive as he turned his attention back to the map. His voice was cool, but there was an underlying tension, as if he anticipated what was coming.
Hermione's jaw clenched, her voice cutting through the air like a razor. "I don't care," she declared, her words as unyielding as the intensity in her gaze. "From now on, I need to know everything."
He finally looked up, taken aback by the fierce determination radiating from her. "Hermione, this isn't—"
"No, Draco." She stepped closer, eyes blazing with a fire he had rarely seen in her, a power that demanded his full attention. "No more secrets. No more half-truths. I need to know what you're planning, what risks you're taking. I won't stand by while you throw yourself into danger without telling me." Her voice was firm, a tone of finality in each syllable that left no room for negotiation.
Blaise and Theo exchanged a look, the weight of the moment settling heavily on them both. Her entrance had shifted the entire atmosphere; she wasn't just angry—she was asserting herself in a way that made them all acutely aware of her presence and her importance in Draco's life. Theo leaned back, an eyebrow arched as he watched the scene unfold.
"She's got a point, Malfoy," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement but also understanding. "Maybe it's time she knew. All of it."
He glanced between his friends and his wife, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He had always believed that keeping his dealings separate from Hermione would shield her from the darkness that surrounded his world. It was a protective instinct, one that had served him well in the past. But now, standing before her, he felt the walls he'd built around his life crumbling. She wasn't just asking for insight; she was demanding to be part of his reality, regardless of how perilous or shadowed it might be.
His gaze locked onto hers, and he could see the fierce determination etched on her face. A silent battle raged within him. He knew she was right. This wasn't just about him anymore.
With a heavy sigh, he felt the weight of his resolve slipping. His shoulders slumped slightly in defeat as he acquiesced. "Fine," he said, his voice tinged with resignation. "You want to know? Then you'll know everything."
She nodded, her eyes softening with understanding as she sensed the struggle within him. "Thank you," she whispered, stepping closer and placing a reassuring hand on his arm, her touch grounding him.
Draco turned his attention back to the map sprawled across the desk, his mind already shifting gears to the task at hand. "Alright," he said, his tone more focused now. "Let's get you up to speed."
He hesitated for a moment, casting a glance at her filled with a mixture of gratitude and exasperation. "Last night, I walked right into a trap. If it weren't for my brilliant wife, I wouldn't be standing here now."
Her eyes widened in alarm, her heartbeat quickening as the gravity of his words sank in. "What happened?" she urged, her voice barely above a whisper.
He pressed on, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation. "Titus and I had a plan in place, but things went sideways. As I moved through the alleyway for the drop, a hooded figure lay in wait. He attacked me, but I managed to fight him off and immobilize him." His voice lowered, almost as if speaking the name aloud might bring some dark power upon them. "It was Viktor Krum."
"Viktor?" she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. "He… he's a good man."
Theo leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slightly. "Granger, honey, he's not the same teenager you remember. We've seen him around before, and he's changed."
Blaise leaned in, unable to resist the urge to add a jab. "By the way, didn't you date him? You were, what, 14 and he was 18? Pretty creepy when you think about it."
Kind of a creep and pedo vibes, but he looked good, extremely good.
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she nodded, acknowledging the shift in focus. "Yes, it was. But that's not the point right now." Her voice regained its urgency. "What does this mean for us? For you?"
She took a deep breath, willing herself to regain her composure. The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension, but she refused to be intimidated. "Let's focus on what we need to do next," she stated firmly, her voice steady and resolute. "We have to figure out why Viktor was involved and what this means for our plans."
Blaise shifted in his chair, folding his arms as he contemplated her words. "You're right," he admitted, a hint of respect creeping into his tone. "But we're missing something crucial here."
Her frustration surged as she pressed on. "You killed Karkaroff, his mentor. That's a significant move, but why is Viktor Krum coming after you now? What does it have to do with our current situation?" She leaned forward, her gaze piercing as she searched for answers in their eyes.
"Bravo, Granger," Blaise said, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Maybe we should've had you in on these meetings from the start."
Draco shot Blaise a warning glance, his expression serious. "Yes, but that was a year ago. We need to understand why this is happening now and what the new threat might be. There's more to this than just past grievances." He paused, his brow furrowing as he considered the implications. "We need to figure out why Viktor's actions are surfacing now and how they fit into the broader scheme."
"Granger," Theo interjected, his tone laced with curiosity. "Are you still in contact with him?"
"Yes, we exchange letters frequently," she replied, her voice steady despite the rising tension in the room.
"Frequently?" his voice was edged with anger, his eyes narrowing as he absorbed her words. "Why am I only finding out about this now?"
"It's innocent, Draco. Stop reacting like this," she said, frustration creeping into her tone. She struggled to keep her composure in the face of his sudden suspicion.
"It's not about innocence, Hermione," he snapped, his frustration palpable. "It's about being transparent. If Viktor is involved in something dangerous, we need to know everything, including your connections to him."
The room fell into a heavy silence, the gravity of the situation weighing down on them all. His gaze remained intense as he addressed the group, his voice low and controlled. "We'll discuss this later," he said sharply, his frustration barely contained.
Turning his attention back to the map that sprawled across the desk, he felt a surge of determination to regain control of the situation. "For now, we need to focus on gathering information about the next steps," he said, his voice firm. "Theo, Blaise, you're dismissed."
The two men exchanged glances but stood up, sensing that the discussion had shifted to a more serious tone. They quietly filed out of the room, leaving them alone with the weight of their conversation hanging in the air.
As soon as the door clicked shut, she crossed her arms, her brow furrowing with concern. "Draco, I know you're worried, but I can handle this. I promise you, there's nothing going on with Viktor that you need to be concerned about."
His jaw clenched as he struggled to rein in his emotions. "It's not just about you, Hermione. It's about the safety of all of us. I can't have you caught up in this mess without knowing the full extent of what's happening." He took a deep breath, attempting to steady himself. "If Krum is a part of this, it changes everything. We can't afford to make mistakes."
She stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. "I understand your concern, but I'm not helpless. I've dealt with threats before, and I'm not afraid to face this one. But I need you to trust me. We need to work together, not against each other."
Draco looked down at the map, the various pins and markings a stark reminder of the dangers they faced. He felt the heat of her determination, and it stirred something deep within him—a mix of admiration and anxiety. "I want to trust you," he admitted, his voice softer now. "But this isn't just about you and me. This is about our friends, our family. The stakes are too high for us to keep secrets."
She nodded, the understanding between them deepening. "Then let's figure this out together. We can't let Viktor's involvement derail our plans. We need to find out why he's here and what he wants from us."
He straightened, his expression resolute. "Alright, then. Let's get to work." As they leaned over the map together, the tension shifted into a focused energy, their minds united in purpose as they strategized their next move. Despite the uncertainty looming ahead, they were determined to face whatever challenges awaited them—together.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He pulled her close, his hands gripping her hips possessively. "Why were you talking to him?" he growled, his eyes narrowing with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. She looked up at him, her brown eyes wide with surprise.
"Draco, he's my friend. We were just catching up," she replied, attempting to keep her tone calm, but the flutter of her heartbeat betrayed her. His grip tightened, jealousy boiling beneath the surface.
"Catching up? Is that what you call it?" he snarled, a sneer curling his lips as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear.
Hermione felt her irritation flare. "What's your problem? I can talk to whoever I want," she retorted, trying to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. His voice dropped to a low, dangerous murmur, "Oh, you can talk to whoever you want, can you? But remember, you belong to me, doll. I won't let anyone take you away from me."
A thrill shot through her as his lips brushed her neck, his teeth nibbling gently on her skin. Despite her anger, she felt a rush of desire. His hands roamed up to her breasts, his fingers pinching her nipples through the fabric of her shirt. "Draco…" she moaned, her head falling back, surrendering to the mix of emotions.
His mouth trailed down to her cleavage, and he pulled her shirt down just enough to expose her lacy bra. He lingered, his tongue flicking over the delicate fabric, sending electric shocks through her body. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. "Draco," she whispered, her voice trembling as heat pooled in her core.
With a growl, he pulled away slightly, his eyes ablaze with desire. "Get on the table," he commanded, his voice husky and low. She nodded, the fire within her igniting further at his authoritative tone. He took her hand, guiding her to their bedroom.
Once there, he pushed her onto the table, his body hovering over hers, a predatory gleam in his eyes. His mouth claimed hers fiercely, their tongues dancing together in a passionate rhythm. She moaned into the kiss, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.
His hands moved down to her pants, tugging them off roughly, his breath quickening as he felt the heat radiating from her. He growled, fingers finding her slickness, teasingly exploring her. "You're so ready for me," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.
"Draco, please," she begged, her hips bucking against his hand, craving more of his touch. His fingers moved faster, expertly circling her clit, igniting her senses. She cried out, her orgasm crashing over her in waves, leaving her breathless and wanting more.
He withdrew his fingers, a playful glint in his eyes as he replaced them with his mouth. He licked and sucked, his tongue teasingly exploring her folds with exquisite precision. Her hands tangled in his hair, urging him closer, her breath hitching. "Gosh, I need you inside me," she moaned, the urgency in her voice undeniable.
With a smirk, he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his cock poised at her entrance. He thrust deep inside her, filling her completely. "You are mine and mine alone," he growled, claiming her mouth once more as he captured her lips in a heated kiss. She moaned against him, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper.
His thrusts grew more intense, each movement rough and demanding, their bodies colliding with fervor. Her moans echoed in the room, her nails digging into his back, urging him on. "Draco, yes—harder," she begged, desire surging through her.
With every thrust, he lost himself in the wild rhythm, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. The heat between them ignited as he drove into her relentlessly. She cried out, her orgasm building like a tidal wave before crashing over her, leaving her gasping for air. He followed closely, feeling the pulse of her pleasure, his own release flooding through him as he twitched inside her.
He collapsed on top of her, their bodies entwined, breathing heavily in the afterglow. She wrapped her arms around him, feeling her heart race beneath the weight of his presence. "I'm sorry I was jealous," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable.
She smiled softly, her fingers tracing gentle circles on his back, calming and affectionate. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I talked with Viktor," she replied, her voice tender yet resolute.
He pulled away just enough to look into her eyes, his green gaze steady and earnest. "I love you, doll," he said, the warmth of his words wrapping around her like a blanket.
Her heart fluttered, a rush of affection swelling within her. "I love you too—more so when you're jealous," she replied, her voice matching his sincerity, a playful smile dancing on her lips as they both basked in the shared moment.
Aggressive, possessive, piece of shit with a huge cock. Aghh. man.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pansy was enjoying her usual afternoon tea, the fragrant steam rising from her delicate cup, when the tranquility of the moment was abruptly shattered by the unexpected appearance of Granger in her living room. The stark contrast of her disheveled appearance against the elegance of Pansy's carefully curated surroundings only heightened Pansy's intrigue.
With a raised eyebrow, Pansy regarded Hermione, her curiosity piqued. "Granger, what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" she inquired, her tone a carefully crafted mix of amusement and wariness, her mind racing through potential scenarios that could have prompted this sudden visit.
Hermione, however, was not in the mood for pleasantries. The urgency etched across her face was palpable, a stark departure from her usual composed demeanor. "Pansy, I need your help. More specifically, I need your potions," she said, her voice taut with tension.
Pansy's initial amusement faded, replaced by a sense of foreboding. She could sense that whatever Hermione was entangled in, it was serious. Without waiting for a formal reply, Pansy stood, the faint clinking of her teacup against the saucer breaking the silence. She motioned for Hermione to follow her, turning on her heel and striding purposefully through the elegantly decorated rooms of her mansion. Each step echoed with a sense of purpose, the plush carpets muffling their hurried movements.
"This is where I keep my most delicate and powerful concoctions," Pansy announced, stepping aside to allow Hermione to enter the dimly lit room. The walls were lined with dark wood shelves, overflowing with meticulously labeled vials, each containing shimmering liquids that caught the light in mesmerizing ways. The air was thick with the mingled scents of various herbs and alchemical ingredients, creating a heady atmosphere that was both invigorating and slightly overwhelming.
"What's the situation?" Pansy asked, concern etched into her features. "Why the rush?"
Hermione took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the shelves as if searching for answers hidden within the colorful potions. "There's something going on that I need to address urgently," she said, her voice taut with urgency. "I don't have time to explain everything now, but I need the most potent restorative and concealment potions you have."
Pansy nodded, her expression shifting from curiosity to determination. "Consider it done. Let's see what we can do to help." She stepped further into the room, reaching for her collection of vials and ingredients, her mind racing to formulate the right potions that could aid Hermione in whatever crisis loomed.
Hermione's gaze narrowed slightly as she surveyed the space, taking in the array of ingredients that could be considered more than a little questionable by Ministry standards. "So, this is your idea of a workstation? Filled with illegal things?" she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.
Pansy shot her a look, a mix of annoyance and amusement dancing in her eyes. "Why? Are you planning to snitch on me?"
Hermione raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not about to snitch on my you. But I need these potions, and I need them now." Her agitation was palpable, a sign that whatever was unfolding outside was more pressing than even Pansy had anticipated.
Pansy's expression softened just a fraction as she recognized the gravity in Hermione's tone. "Alright, let's get to work then," she replied, moving purposefully toward her shelves. Her fingers brushed against the meticulously organized vials and ingredients, each one a testament to her skill and expertise. "I'll help you, but I expect a full explanation later."
As Pansy gathered what she needed, Hermione hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the changes in Pansy. "What happened to you, Pansy? I miss the girl you used to be—the one I knew."
Pansy's eyes hardened at the unexpected vulnerability in Hermione's words. A rush of memories flooded her mind, both bitter and sweet, and she met Hermione's gaze with unyielding intensity. "The girl you knew?" she retorted sharply, her voice laced with an edge of defiance. "I gutted that bitch from the inside out."
Her voice was cold and unyielding, revealing the depth of her transformation. "I'm not her anymore. Life has a way of changing us, sometimes in ways we never anticipated." Her words hung in the air like a heavy fog, thick with the weight of unspoken truths and buried pain.
Her face was a mask of cold resolve as she continued, "On my 18th birthday, my whore of a mother taught me all she knew, and I inherited this hell." She gestured broadly to the room, her hand sweeping over the meticulously organized shelves filled with vials and cauldrons, a mixture of pride and disdain swirling in her expression. The room, once a sanctuary of comfort and elegance, now felt more like a fortress of secrets and shadows.
Her eyes softened with sympathy, her heart aching for her friend. "I'm so sorry, Pansy."
Pansy scoffed, brushing off the pity with a wave of her hand. "I don't need your sympathy. It is what it is. I've come to enjoy it, in fact. Although, I must admit, I'm still perfecting my blue meth. The potions, though? I've mastered them."
She was taken aback, her mouth slightly agape as she struggled to process Pansy's candidness and the stark contrast to the person she once knew. The rawness of Pansy's words struck a chord deep within her, stirring up a mixture of concern and disbelief.
"Gosh," Hermione managed, still stunned. "I never imagined—"
She glanced at Pansy, surprised by her lack of inquiry, by the way she seemed almost unconcerned about the implications of her lifestyle. "You're not asking any questions?"
Pansy shrugged nonchalantly, her indifference almost chilling. "Why would I? I know what Draco does, what all the boys do. If it were Neville, I'd do anything for him." Her voice held a fierce loyalty that resonated through the air, cutting through the tension like a knife.
Hermione raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. "So you actually love him?"
Pansy's gaze softened, the steely façade giving way to a flicker of something more vulnerable. "Of course I do. I married him of my own free will. He's the only man in this universe who truly understands me." Her voice was imbued with a warmth that contrasted sharply with the coldness she had projected moments before. "We are like stars, Granger—two celestial bodies that align perfectly, even if the rest of the world doesn't see it."
She paused, allowing the metaphor to sink in. "It's a cosmic connection, one that transcends the noise and chaos around us. In a world where everything seems so dark and uncertain, he is my light." Pansy's expression shifted, revealing a flicker of hope amidst the shadows that had long clouded her heart.
Hermione searched Pansy's eyes, looking for the girl she once knew, but what she found was a woman forged in the fires of adversity—strong, resilient, and fiercely protective of her own. "But does he know everything about you?" she asked cautiously, genuinely wanting to understand the depth of their bond.
Pansy nodded, her resolve unwavering. "He knows enough. We share our truths, the good and the bad. It's part of what makes us strong together." Her voice dropped to a whisper, almost as if she feared the weight of her confession. "He sees me for who I am now, not who I used to be."
The two women stood in the dim light of Pansy's private quarters, the air thick with unsaid words and unshared memories. Hermione felt a rush of emotions—a mix of admiration, sadness, and a desperate hope for Pansy to find peace in her choices. "I just wish you didn't have to carry all this weight alone," Hermione said softly.
Pansy's lips curled into a faint smile, a hint of warmth returning to her gaze. "I'm not alone, Hermione. I have Neville, and even if our paths have diverged, I know you're still here, lurking in the shadows." Her voice was teasing but carried an underlying sincerity that made Hermione's heart swell.
Two people in love can build a universe of their own, where understanding and connection bind them like the stars.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione entered the study with determined strides, her eyes blazing with purpose as she crossed the threshold. The weight of what she was about to say gave her an intense air of resolve, her posture unyielding.
"Draco, I have a plan," she announced, her voice firm but calm.
He looked up from his work, the cool mask he often wore slipping just a bit as he took in her expression. Despite his visible affection, his tone remained steady, cautious. "Darling, you shouldn't be making plans about this. It's not your call," he said, his voice soft yet resolute. "I won't risk you."
Her resolve only hardened. "I'm not asking for permission," she replied, voice low but unwavering. "I'm telling you."
His jaw clenched, and he regarded her with a mixture of frustration and admiration. Before he could interrupt, she continued, her gaze fierce. "This isn't just about risk; it's about protecting what's ours. I can't sit idly by while you keep putting yourself on the line. I won't let you shoulder this alone."
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his temples. "This world is dangerous, love," he said, trying to mask the strain in his voice. "You don't belong in that darkness."
She met his gaze without flinching, eyes locked on his. "I'm already in it, Draco. I'm not just your wife—I'm your partner. Let me help."
He looked at her, and beneath the frustration was a glimmer of that fierce, determined spirit he had always been drawn to. "You won't back down, will you?" he asked, a note of resignation in his voice, though it was tinged with reluctant respect.
She shook her head. "No."
He sighed deeply, a mixture of exasperation and fondness. Before he could formulate another objection, she continued, voice steady and unshakable. "You brought this world to our doorstep the day you came home at death's door. So, I've made up my mind—I'm writing to Viktor. I'll invite myself over, and when the opportunity arises, I'll drug him. You can handle the rest."
He blinked, momentarily stunned by her audacity. "That is a terrible plan," he managed, the disbelief plain in his voice.
She lifted her chin, undeterred. "Did you have a better one? No? Then we're going with mine."
He stared at her, measuring her resolve, and let out a frustrated sigh. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"And you love me for it," she replied, a faint smile curving her lips, a mix of defiance and tenderness.
He couldn't help the warmth that spread through him. She was the only one who could look him in the eye like this, challenge him this way—and he did love her for it. Very much.
"Fine," he relented, straightening and steeling himself. "Let's call in the team."
Within minutes, Theo, Blaise, and—unexpectedly—Luna gathered in the sitting room, expressions ranging from curious to concerned.
She raised an eyebrow at the sight of Luna. "Luna, what are you doing here?"
Luna gave her a serene smile. "I was on a date with Theodore when the call came. Thought I'd lend my support."
Blaise frowned slightly, his gaze drifting over to Luna. "Luna, this isn't exactly your kind of thing. It's… delicate."
Luna's eyes glinted with a fierceness few had ever seen from her. "Don't be so sure, Blaise. We don't know each other as well as you think."
Blaise exchanged a glance with Theo, uncertain but unwilling to dismiss her. Theo gave a slight nod, silently affirming Luna's resolve.
"Alright then," he murmured, giving her a nod of respect. "Let's get down to business."
She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her next words. "Here's the plan. Viktor knows about the marriage law, but he has no idea who I married. I'll invite myself over, and when the time is right, I'll slip something in his drink."
Theo leaned forward, a hint of a smirk on his face. "Granger, that's actually brilliant."
Draco, however, was far from convinced. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice strained. "No, it's reckless."
She met his eyes, unwavering. "Reckless? Perhaps. But do you have a better option? Because right now, this is the only plan we've got."
Luna perked up, her voice light but sincere. "I could go with Mimi. A girls' trip, as it were."
Theo's eyes darkened, his voice taking on an edge. "Absolutely not. It's far too dangerous, Luna. This isn't one of your mystical quests in the forest."
Luna met his gaze, her tone gentle but unyielding. "That's precisely why I should go, Theo. Two people are safer than one. And Viktor would never suspect a quiet healer and her friend."
Theo's hand tightened into a fist, his expression conflicted. "Because it's not just about suspicion, Luna. It's the danger. I can't allow you to put yourself at risk like that."
Hermione, sensing the tension, spoke up. "Theo, Luna was only offering—"
"I don't care," Theo cut her off, his voice gruff with emotion as he shot Draco a look of alarm, as if hoping he'd agree.
Luna simply smiled, unperturbed by Theo's sharp tone. "If you're that worried, I'll stay. But someone should go with her."
Blaise tilted his head thoughtfully, a smirk tugging at his lips. "What about Parkinson? She's had experience with… let's call them 'persuasive encounters.'"
Her brows furrowed. "Pansy? I hadn't considered her…"
"She knows how to handle herself," he added, his tone thoughtful. "And she'll do what's necessary without hesitation."
Theo's reluctant nod was all the agreement Hermione needed. "Alright. I'll ask Pansy to join me, and we'll be careful."
"Careful and quick," he amended, a flicker of pride in his gaze as he met her eyes, fully appreciating her tenacity. "This plan hinges on timing. No mistakes."
Hermione nodded, finally feeling the weight of their shared understanding. They'd face this danger side by side, whatever the cost—together, against the odds, bound by a love neither of them would let go of.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After days of exchanging letters filled with subtle hints of flirting, Viktor finally asked Hermione to visit him in his London hotel room. The invitation was worded casually, but the underlying tension was impossible to ignore. He suggested it under the pretense of discussing the "old days" and catching up, but she knew there was more to it.
As she read Viktor's latest letter, she felt a mixture of anticipation and dread. This was the opening she needed for his plan, but it also meant stepping into a delicate situation where one misstep could be disastrous. She folded the letter carefully and tucked it away, her mind already racing with how to proceed.
Now, it was time to put the plan into motion. Pansy stood in front of the mirror, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, and she just hoped that everything would go as smoothly as they had planned. Each detail mattered; failure was not an option. They had rehearsed every step, anticipated every obstacle, and now it was time to turn their plans into reality.
Pansy stood in front of her vanity, carefully applying her makeup with practiced precision. She selected deep, sultry shades that accentuated her striking features—smoky eyes that hinted at mischief, and a bold red lip that demanded attention. As she layered on the makeup, she felt the adrenaline coursing through her veins, heightening her senses.
She joined her, a flurry of movement and purpose. Together, they transformed the room into a chaotic whirlwind of preparations. Pansy watched Hermione's hands as they deftly sorted through their supplies, arranging potions and tools with an expert's touch. The sight was oddly reassuring. Her meticulousness countered Pansy's more impulsive nature, creating a balance that was crucial for the success of their plan.
As they moved through the evening's preparations, every moment felt charged with a heady mixture of anticipation and possibility. She even took the time to shave everywhere, knowing that every detail counted for the mission. She moved with an elegance that was both practical and enchanting, the flick of her wrist and the glimmer of her skin a testament to the care they were putting into their appearance. Pansy admired Hermione's dedication; it was a reminder of the lengths they were willing to go to achieve their goals.
Finally, as they stood back to assess their efforts, both women looked stunning—strikingly sexy and confident, ready to play their parts flawlessly. Their outfits clung to their curves in all the right places, enhancing their natural allure while still exuding an air of sophistication. The fabric shimmered under the soft glow of the chandelier, reflecting their resolve to seize the night.
Pansy's heart raced as she admired their reflections in the mirror, a wave of empowerment washing over her. In that moment, she felt unbreakable, a force to be reckoned with. Hermione stood beside her, radiating a quiet strength, and together they looked like a pair of warriors ready for battle.
As they slipped into their heels, the sound echoed through the room, marking the transition from preparation to action. They exchanged knowing glances, a silent agreement passing between them that they were in this together, no matter the outcome. The stakes were high, but so was their determination.
With one final glance in the mirror, Pansy adjusted a stray strand of hair and squared her shoulders. It was time to embrace their plan, to step out into the night and make it theirs. The world beyond the walls of her mansion awaited, a canvas for their ambitions. As they took a deep breath, the scent of jasmine and ambition filled the air, and they knew they were ready to make their mark.
Draco was waiting in the living room, his sharp gaze cutting through the dim light as he watched the girls. His expression tightened, and he felt a flash of irritation shoot through him. "You can't go out like that," he said, his voice tense, each word laced with concern. "You're barely wearing anything."
Pansy glanced at him, her lips curling into a smirk that radiated defiance. "Draco dear, mind your own business," she retorted, her tone light and unbothered. She was well aware of the effect she had on him and reveled in it, a subtle power play that only intensified his frustration.
As if on cue, the atmosphere shifted with the arrival of Theo, Blaise, and Neville. The door swung open, and they stepped into the room, exuding an air of camaraderie that immediately lightened the mood. Neville's eyes immediately sought out Pansy, and a slow, genuine smile spread across his face as he took in her striking appearance. "You look delicious, my bloom," he said, pulling her into his arms with an ease that spoke volumes about their connection.
Draco, still agitated and unable to shake his protective instincts, gestured toward the two women. "Are you not outraged by how good they look?!" His frustration hung in the air, the tension palpable as he struggled with his feelings of possessiveness.
Neville shook his head, unfazed by his distress. "I am not. Pansy always looks amazing," he replied, his calm certainty cutting through the tension like a soothing balm. His eyes sparkled with admiration, making it clear he had no qualms about the outfit that had sparked his ire.
Hermione, feeling the impatience building within her, stepped forward to take charge of the situation. "Enough of this. Everyone knows what to do." Her voice was firm, commanding attention as she sought to refocus the group's energy on the task at hand.
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the impending mission settling in. The seriousness of their purpose hung in the air like a thick fog, and they all understood the gravity of the moment.
"We do," they answered in unison, their voices echoing with a sense of unity. Each of them was acutely aware of the stakes, their bond forged through shared experiences and the knowledge that they were stronger together.
Pansy felt a surge of adrenaline course through her as they prepared to embark on their plan. She exchanged a quick glance with Neville, who gave her a reassuring nod, and she felt her confidence swell. They were ready to face whatever challenges awaited them, and as the anticipation hung thick in the air, she knew they would not back down.
With the tension slowly dissipating, they began to strategize, the playful banter that usually accompanied their gatherings replaced by focused determination. His earlier agitation melted away, replaced by a resolute sense of purpose as they set their sights on the task ahead.
As they gathered in a tight circle, Hermione took the lead, her voice steady and clear as she outlined their plan. The camaraderie amongst them deepened, and in that moment, Pansy felt a flicker of hope that they would not only succeed but also emerge stronger than before.
The evening's energy shifted once more as they prepared to step into the unknown, their hearts pounding in unison with the rhythm of their collective resolve. With one last glance at each other, they took a deep breath, knowing that together they could conquer whatever lay ahead.
They took a cab, which fascinated Pansy, who was more accustomed to the convenience of magical means of transportation. The rhythmic hum of the city outside the window and the sensation of wheels on asphalt brought a thrill she hadn't anticipated. It was a refreshing change, and the novelty of it brought a brief smile to her usually composed face, a rare glimpse of her excitement bubbling beneath her otherwise polished exterior.
As they arrived at the luxurious five-star hotel, the building loomed ahead like a grand castle, its facade glistening under the evening lights. The opulent lobby greeted them with marble floors, chandeliers that sparkled like stars, and a symphony of soft chatter from well-dressed patrons. The lavish decor was a stark contrast to the tension simmering beneath their poised exteriors. Despite the grandeur surrounding them, Pansy could feel the undercurrents of anxiety and anticipation that tinged the air, each woman aware of the stakes that lay ahead.
Viktor and a strikingly handsome man were already waiting for them near the entrance. The moment Viktor spotted her, his face lit up, illuminating the seriousness of the evening. Pansy watched as Hermione moved forward with confidence, her steps measured yet eager, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. She lingered just a moment too long, placing a soft kiss on his cheek that spoke volumes about their connection. "It's so good to see you," she said, her voice soft yet calculated, every word imbued with warmth that felt practiced, as if rehearsed in front of a mirror.
"It is always a pleasure to see you," he replied, his eyes warm with familiarity, a glimmer of something deeper evident in his gaze. Pansy noted the way her smile seemed to brighten, how she practically glowed under Viktor's attention.
Viktor then gestured to the man beside him, a striking figure who radiated charm and confidence. "This is my teammate, Dimitar," he introduced, and the man nodded, his dark eyes glinting with curiosity. There was an undeniable magnetism about him that made Pansy's heart quicken.
She turned slightly, introducing Pansy with a wave of her hand, her own excitement palpable. "And this is my best friend, Pansy Longbottom." The way she spoke Pansy's name carried an undertone of pride, as though she were presenting an exquisite trophy.
Pansy stepped forward, her expression effortlessly seductive as she met their gaze. "It's a pleasure to be in the presence of such superstars," she said smoothly, her voice laced with a hint of flirtation. The words slipped from her lips like silk, enveloping the air in a light tension that drew a smile from Dimitar and a nod of approval from Viktor. In that moment, she felt empowered, embracing her role in this intricate game of allure and intrigue. The scene was set, and she could sense that the night held infinite possibilities.
They moved toward the hotel's bar, a sleek, modern space with dim lighting that made everything feel more intimate. The ambiance was electric, the low hum of conversation mingling with soft music, creating a cocoon of exclusivity. The bartender, clad in a crisp white shirt and a polished demeanor, mixed luxurious cocktails with flair, each drink a masterpiece served in elegant glasses that sparkled under the low lights.
Once settled, the group wasted no time in ordering a round of shots to loosen up, each shot a small leap into the unknown. Pansy felt the warm burn of the alcohol, a friendly fire igniting her senses and stripping away the last remnants of hesitation. They clinked their glasses together, a symphony of laughter and camaraderie filling the space, sealing their intentions for the night. Pansy could feel the thrill of the chase surging through her, a reminder that this was not merely a social gathering but a carefully orchestrated maneuver with the potential for far-reaching consequences.
As the evening progressed, the conversations flowed as freely as the drinks, each word woven with the threads of ambition and desire. Pansy played her part to perfection, charming both Viktor and Dimitar with a mixture of wit and flirtation, all while keeping one eye on Hermione, who was navigating her own dance of intrigue with Viktor. The night was alive with possibilities, and Pansy was ready to seize every opportunity that came her way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After half an hour, the atmosphere in the bar had shifted dramatically. Pansy had settled comfortably in Dimitar's lap, a vision of carefree charm as her fingers traced idle patterns on his chest. She giggled at something he whispered in her ear, her laughter light and melodic, drawing the attention of those around them. Pansy played the role of the flirty socialite effortlessly, keeping Dimitar utterly captivated, her body language radiating confidence and allure as she leaned into him, their chemistry palpable.
Meanwhile, she found herself ensnared in a tedious conversation with Viktor. He was animatedly droning on about Quidditch tactics and his relentless training regimen, his enthusiasm undeterred by the lack of spark in her eyes. She tried her best to appear engaged, offering nods and polite smiles at what she hoped were the appropriate moments. She couldn't help but feel a wave of disappointment wash over her; she had forgotten just how dull he could be. A man who looked that good, she mused, should not be this insufferably boring. Still, she steeled her focus, aware that the success of their plan hinged on keeping him charmed and distracted, lest their intentions go awry.
The night took a lively turn when Pansy stood up, a confident smirk adorning her lips. "We're heading up to the room to continue the party. Are you guys coming?" she asked, her voice playful and inviting, a siren's call that stirred the air with anticipation.
She caught the gleam of mischief in her eyes and glanced at Viktor, a spark igniting within her. "Why not? We can join for some fun," she suggested, giving him a flirtatious wink that had him leaning forward, clearly intrigued.
With practiced ease, Hermione took Viktor's hand, guiding it around her waist. As she leaned in closer, she gently slid his hand down to her hips, offering him an encouraging smile that conveyed both warmth and invitation. The thrill of the moment mixed with the familiarity of the plan gave her a heady rush. As his fingers brushed against her skin, she felt the warmth of his touch and the intoxicating thrill of the night, reminding herself that this was all part of the game—a dance with potential consequences.
In the elevator, the atmosphere thickened with anticipation. She leaned in close, placing both hands on Viktor's chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath her palm. Slowly, she slid her hands up to his neck, pulling him into a warm embrace that felt both exhilarating and dangerous.
"You know, Viktor," she murmured, her breath warm against his ear, "you've always looked handsome, but the man you've become is incredibly sexy. Honestly, it's quite a turn-on." Her words were soft yet deliberate, crafted to keep the atmosphere charged and enticing as they drew closer to their destination.
Viktor's eyes sparkled with appreciation, and he leaned in to kiss the side of her lips, his voice low and smooth. "I'm so glad, baby. You've always looked so delicious as well." The compliment rolled off his tongue, sending a shiver of delight through Hermione.
As they entered the room, Pansy wasted no time; she grabbed Dimitar by the hand, her expression filled with playful mischief, and led him toward the ensuite bathroom. The look on her face was one of daring, as if she were about to unlock a world of excitement. She watched them disappear, a mix of amusement and intrigue playing across her features. She turned her attention back to Viktor, determined to maintain the seductive tension that hummed between them.
The room felt charged with possibility, the air thick with unsaid words and unexpressed desires. Hermione took a moment to compose herself, recalling the night's purpose as she let the energy of the evening envelop her. With Pansy off with Dimitar, the stage was set perfectly for her to keep Viktor engaged, and she was ready to play her part to perfection, letting the thrill of the chase propel her forward into the unfolding night.
"What's the plan, baby?" Viktor asked, his voice deep and smooth, tinged with curiosity as he reclined on the plush couch, his gaze fixed on her.
"Maybe I can make you a gin and tonic," she replied, offering a sultry smile that belied the nerves bubbling within her. "I've been perfecting my killer recipe." Her tone was steady, but she could feel her heart racing, each beat echoing the weight of the moment.
"That sounds amazing. Go make two," he responded, leaning back further into the cushions, clearly relaxed and unaware of the tension in the air.
As she turned towards the small kitchenette, the sound of giggling from the bathroom caught her attention, followed by the unmistakable rush of water from the shower. The realization sent a wave of urgency coursing through her veins. Time was not on their side.
Taking a deep breath, she discreetly slipped the small, crushed pills from her bracelet into the palm of her hand, hiding them beneath her fingers. She grabbed the gin and tonic ingredients, her mind racing as she focused intently on the task at hand. The bitterness of the gin had to mask the taste of the pills; it had to work.
Viktor moved closer, positioning himself behind her, his hands exploring her body with a familiarity that made her skin crawl. Every touch sent a wave of revulsion through her, twisting her stomach in knots. She fought to keep her composure, determined not to let her discomfort show, forcing herself to concentrate on mixing the drinks.
"I can't make it if you keep interrupting me," she said lightly, striving to keep her tone calm and steady despite the turmoil within.
"I'm not interrupting; I'm just getting you ready, baby," Viktor replied with a grin that sent a shiver down her spine.
Before she could respond, he spun her around, capturing her lips in a demanding kiss. It was rough and aggressive, utterly unwanted. The taste of gin lingered in the air, but it was overshadowed by the bitter taste of her anxiety. She pushed against his chest, trying to break free, but he held her tight, his grip possessive.
Her mind raced as her body reacted purely on instinct. Panic surged through her veins like wildfire, and in a desperate frenzy, she fumbled for the emergency button on her bracelet, pressing it repeatedly as if her life depended on it. The weight of the situation bore down on her, each second stretching into an eternity.
In an instant, three shadowy figures materialized in the room, their forms obscured by swirling black smoke that danced ominously around them. Without hesitation, one of the figures lunged at Viktor, gripping him with a force that left no room for resistance. She could hardly breathe, her heart thundering in her chest as she stood frozen in stunned disbelief, trying to comprehend the chaotic turn of events that had unraveled in mere moments.
"That was the last time you ever touched someone, Krum," one of the figures hissed, their voice a chilling whisper that cut through the tension like a knife.
Viktor, his eyes wide with shock, struggled to regain his composure, but before he could react, he was thrown forcefully against the wall. The impact was jarring, and Hermione felt a surge of vindication mixed with fear. He attempted to fight back, to summon the strength that had once made him a formidable opponent, but the figure's spell rendered him immobile, leaving him suspended in mid-air, powerless.
Time seemed to slow as she watched in dazed disbelief. Her heart raced, not only from the adrenaline coursing through her but also from the relief that the immediate threat was being neutralized. It was happening. They were executing the plan, and she was finally free from Viktor's grasp.
With a swift motion, Draco levitated Viktor into the bedroom, his expression grim but focused. The door clicked shut behind them with an unsettling finality, ensuring their privacy as he removed the smoky mask that obscured his identity. Draco's eyes were fierce, a stark contrast to the turmoil of emotions swirling inside her.
As silence enveloped the room, Neville glanced around, concern etched deep in his features. "Where's Pansy?" he asked, his voice low and tense, his eyes searching for any sign of her.
Her heart sank momentarily as she realized they hadn't accounted for Pansy's whereabouts amidst the chaos. "She's in the bathroom," she replied quickly, urgency lacing her words.
Without another moment's hesitation, Neville moved silently toward the bathroom, his footsteps barely audible against the polished floor.
Dimitar hung upside down from the ceiling, his body a grotesque silhouette against the dim lighting of the room. Blood gushed from a deep gash that cut from his stomach to his neck, pooling ominously on the floor beneath him, where it mingled with the remnants of their chaotic night. His eyes, once filled with curiosity and charm, were now wide with shock and fear, struggling to comprehend the brutal turn of events.
The sight was horrific, a stark testament to the lengths they had gone to in order to execute their plan. Dimitar's breaths came in shallow gasps, the weight of his situation evident as he swayed slightly, his limbs contorted in a way that defied all logic. Each drop of blood that escaped him painted a picture of desperation, a chilling reminder of the violent undercurrents that had driven them all to this moment.
Neville stood frozen in the doorway, his heart racing and mind reeling from the gruesome scene before him. "Pans, this is… intense," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, a mix of disbelief and admiration threading through his words. "But you've definitely outdone yourself."
Pansy gazed down at her dress with exaggerated dismay, her eyes widening dramatically as if she'd just discovered a shocking revelation. "Oh, for the love of all that's good! Look at my dress! Just look at it—utterly ruined!" With a flourish, she twirled around, showcasing the bloodstains splattered across the fabric like tragic art. "This was an exquisite piece, and now it's—well, it's a complete disaster!"
Neville, unable to contain his amusement, let out a chuckle. "Quite the opposite, bloom. I must say, I'm impressed."
Pansy threw her hands up in a theatrical gesture, her frustration spilling over. "Well, at least the job's done, but how could this happen? The color was perfect for tonight!" She let out an exaggerated sigh, her expression a melodramatic mix of frustration and mock grief. "I suppose I'll have to find a replacement. But you must admit, the stain adds a certain… character, doesn't it?"
Neville laughed, shaking his head at her flair for the dramatic. He stepped closer and took her hand gently, his touch warm and reassuring. "Let's get you cleaned up. The dress may be ruined, but you're still as radiant as ever."
Pansy looked at him, her expression softening slightly. "You really think so?" she asked, a hint of vulnerability breaking through her dramatic facade.
"Absolutely," he replied with sincerity. "No amount of blood can overshadow your shine."
Pansy rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "Alright then, lead the way. I may be a disaster, but at least I'm a glamorous one!"
What the actual fuck.
Draco gripped Viktor's arm, guiding him to the bed with an unwavering firmness that left no room for resistance. He ensured Viktor was seated and effectively restrained, a chilling calmness enveloping the room, broken only by the low hum of the air conditioning. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and his demeanor radiated calculated menace and cold efficiency.
His icy gaze met Viktor's defiant glare as he leaned in closer, his voice a steady whisper that held an underlying current of threat. "Krum," he began, the deceptively calm tone belying the storm brewing within. "Last night, you were a bit too eager to play the villain, wouldn't you agree? Attacking me in a dark alleyway isn't exactly a friendly gesture."
Viktor remained silent, his jaw clenched tight, refusing to yield under his scrutiny.
His eyes narrowed dangerously. "What was your reason? What exactly prompted you to target me? Was it personal, or are you just another pawn in someone else's game?"
Still, Viktor's silence lingered, thickening the air with unspoken tension.
His patience began to wear thin, frustration creeping into his voice. "We don't have all night. Tell me why you were really there, or I'll have to make you talk." Each word dripped with a promise of retribution, the dim lighting casting long shadows that loomed over them, emphasizing the grim nature of their encounter.
Leaning in closer, his voice turned icy, his expression a mask of controlled rage. "Nothing personal, you say? Then why did you have to get so hands-on with my wife?" The accusation hung in the air, sharp and palpable.
Viktor's gaze remained defiantly fixed on him, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed an unease that he struggled to hide.
He stepped closer, narrowing his eyes. "So you think you can just waltz in here, make a mockery of my life, and touch what's mine? I hope you savored every second of it—how soft she is, how 'delicious' her kisses are." Each word dripped with contempt, and he could see the cracks forming in Viktor's bravado.
He lowered his voice to a menacing whisper, leaning in even closer. "How does it feel knowing those were the last things you'll ever touch in your life?"
Viktor's lips twisted into a snarl. "I always wanted to make Hermione mine, and I always wanted to kill you, Malfoy. You've made a mockery of the Malfoy name, selling low-performing potions and barely scraping by from our rendezvous in the alleyway. What happened to Daddy? Hasn't he taught you how to be a good leader?"
His expression hardened, his voice cold and final. "Oh, he taught me many things." With a swift motion, he drew his wand from its holder, the air crackling with the tension of impending violence. In an instant, Viktor Krum's life came to a swift and decisive end, his defiance extinguished like a candle snuffed out.
"There you go, Krum. Say hi to my daddy for me," he said, his voice dripping with chilling finality. As he intoned the spell, the air around him crackled with dark magic. "Leeka moo prŭst, 'Daruj mir vechen na tvoya rab, Gospodine, i napravi pametta mu vechna.'"
The room fell silent, the atmosphere heavy with tension as his words hung in the air like a dark omen. All the members stood in the living room, their eyes locked on him, anticipation mingling with dread as they awaited an explanation for the violent conclusion they had just witnessed.
Draco met Theo's gaze, a cold resolve settling over him. "Nott," he commanded firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Do your job. We're finished here."
Theo nodded, understanding the weight of his words. The room remained still, the gravity of their actions settling like a fog over the group as they prepared to confront the aftermath of the night's grim events.
With a flick of his wand, he apparated them back to his house, leaving behind the remnants of the confrontation and the echo of Viktor's final moments hanging in the air.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Once they had settled in, the group gathered around the fireplace, the warmth of the flames creating a stark contrast to the chilling events of the night. The crackling fire danced, casting flickering shadows across their faces, enveloping the room in a heavy silence as they grappled with the weight of their actions.
He broke the stillness first, his voice steady but laced with tension. "I still have no answers from Krum. We're actively searching for leads."
She opened her mouth to protest, her brow furrowed with concern, but he cut her off, his tone firm and unyielding. "Darling, you are not allowed to join us on any missions ever again."
"But Draco—" she began, desperation creeping into her voice.
"I said not again," he interrupted, his piercing gaze locking onto hers, a silent promise embedded in his resolve.
As the evening wore on, each of them departed, burdened by the night's unsettling events. The house gradually fell into a quiet stillness, the crackle of the fire being the only sound punctuating the silence, a reminder of the chaos that had unfolded just hours before.
He turned to her, his expression softening. "I owe you an apology for putting you in harm's way. That will certainly never happen again," he said earnestly.
She cast her eyes downward, disappointment etched across her features. "I'm sorry that I didn't do a better job," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
He stepped closer, his demeanor gentle yet assertive. "You were never meant to do a perfect job, my love. This was your first time, and what you did was more than enough for both of us. I don't want to see you stressed or overwhelmed again."
With that, he opened his arms wide, and she willingly nestled against him, finding solace in his embrace. In that moment, the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat wrapped around her like a protective cocoon, banishing the remnants of fear and uncertainty. They stood together, the fire crackling softly, each of them drawing strength from the other, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.