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AN: Man! I had a long break!? Sorry this took soo long.? Anyway, thanks to the_slytherin_goddess1509, PennyH, mahal_kita, twitchy_little, serpent_princess, SirenaLuna90, mani_rage, Princess_Nikky and Jackie Smith for the reviews!!!!! (did I get all your names right?) Thank you so much! Hope you all like this chap here.

Disclaimer: I’m just 15. I am simply not JKR.

Chapter Four: A Chance for Murder


Long since the sun had risen that Hermione woke up and found herself alone on the large bed. The scent all around her smelt like her fiancé; manly but refreshing, she thought. But when she opened her eyes, she was disappointed to see that he was nowhere in sight. Not minding her aching neck and early morning grudges she made her way towards a door at the other side of the room which opened to a large marble room with a giant tub in the middle, still damp from the previous user. Her intention was to look for her fiancé but since she was there already, she splashed some water on her face and then looked for him. Basing on common sense, he just recently used the room meaning he couldn’t have gotten far.

But he was neither at his study nor the library. He wasn’t even down at breakfast, in fact, no one was there except for Alex. He said that the ladies and her fiancé were gone early and Cissy asked him to keep her company. Hermione preferred her fiancé but then again he was not around and she badly needs someone to talk to. So they talked while she ate, mostly about him for she had nothing much to say about herself, nor does he. Finishing her breakfast, Hermione dragged Alex down below the gardens not resisting giggling a bit at the sight in front of her. She thought the view from up close was more interesting than from above. There were large fishes in the fountain; Alex, to her insistent questions about everything, informed her that they were called carps.

“They are all called carps?”

“Yes.” Alex answered with a smile as Hermione started to name each of the large fishes with funny names, the light orange one, she specifically named Draco.

She was interrupted when a maid, who introduced herself, by another of Hermione’s inquiry, as Betty, came with fish food and Hermione couldn’t help but volunteer and feed them herself. The maid was a little hesitant though, fearing that the master of the house would find out she’d let her do a maid’s work. Of course, Hermione insisted and commented about how strict her fiancé was and the two, Alex and Betty, laughed much to Hermione’s confusion for she was quite serious with her statement.

After Betty’s suggestion that the fishes had enough food already, they’re feet dragged them to the stables where they met Beast, Draco’s stallion of pure black. It had an angry, scary look on its face that didn’t push her to linger there even though Alex invited her for a ride on other horses. The rest of the morning, she spent walking around the whole manor, talking to every household personnel she encounters, then had lunch and back to roaming around that she memorized every way, hall and corridor of the large, large manor. By six in the evening, had a quite dinner with the ladies, asked about their day and went up to her bedchamber, went back down to the main living hall and waited for her fiancé, eager to see someone familiar after a long day of strange and new things to her, lying on the red sofa until she didn’t realize she was already asleep.



Draco Malfoy went home that night exhausted. There’d been a small problem in the company and another in the ministry that needed his attention which he can’t give fully, and the minister had been flooing and owling him for almost every minute asking for his advice and opinion about a problem his department shouldn’t be responsible about. The wizarding world is very unlucky to have such dependent minister, why he was elected in the first place, Draco didn’t know. Fortunately, the minister had good hearted and responsible counselors and he wondered for a second why he wasn’t one of them.

His thought was immediately cut off at the sight of his fiancée sleeping on the large red sofa in the middle of the large dim room. Oddly, Hetchins was nowhere to be seen; he usually waited for him to arrive.

Looking at the old, large, pendulum clock at the corner of the room, it was eleven in the evening; the old man must’ve slept already. He noted to find another butler, a younger one, soon. He went up the large, curved staircase to the corridor leading to his chamber. But for some reasons unknown to himself, his feet and legs stopped at the last second step of the stair way and turned around, looking down at the frail figure of Hermione Granger on his sofa. He actually forgot about her. Or maybe he just didn’t care. Her position was much like of the other night, her head was falling off from the cushion and her arm hung over the floor looking half dead.

Moved with little ounce of cavalry he didn’t know he possessed towards her or any woman except his mother, You should be honored now Granger because I’m actually being nice to you without a reason. he said to himself while pulling out his wand when his hand found nothing in his pocket but a candy wrapper.

He didn’t realize his coat where he usually placed his wand was removed, by himself most probably, and was placed over the sofa. Draco went down the stairs to the sofa, took his coat and checked every pocket for his wand. “Bloody hell, Hetchins you old man!” he cursed out loud, knowing pretty well the old muggle had something to do with it. Hetchins, despite his age, was tricky and the ladies always had something to do with it which angered him the more. He hated not to control things, especially in his own house and his own life. Not like his father who was in control of everything… except his death. Which was in Hermione Granger’s control.

Speaking of Hermione Granger, she stirred, probably due to Draco’s outburst. She furrowed her eyes, rubbed them with her hands that once hung over the floor and finally opened them up. At first, she furrowed in surprise to see someone as tall as he was hover over her. When she realized it was just him, she managed a smile. Draco felt the furry he always held for her rise. How could she have lived a day when her supposedly innocent hands killed my father? He asked that to himself as he watched her eyes close again, falling back into sleep.

He was gritting his teeth as he laid the sleeping Hermione on his bed, the same side as last night. Got dressed and slept. The next morning, he woke up with Hermione’s arm round his waist, her body close to his; brown waves of her hair sprawled across the pillow and some on his chest.

That should’ve been uncomfortable to him, which was what he kept telling himself. But a comfortable warmth he’d never felt before from all his mistresses or anyone else was what he can’t deny.

Draco slid out of the bed cursing himself, took a shower, got dressed and went to work knowing how she’d wake up alone again.

The next night and the following nights, the same thing happened. And every morning, he’d wake up with that warmth of hers. And every morning, she’d wake up alone and spend the day with people she knew she’d never met before the accident. And every night at dinner, her enthusiasm lessens.

By the sixth morning, Hermione wondered if her fiancé loved her. She brought this question up at dinner.

“Of course he does.”

That was all that was said.

Sixth evening, Draco was welcomed with a different view. Hermione was nowhere in sight but the one in front of him, he thought was more of a problem. They were all sitting at the sofa where Hermione was supposed to be sleeping at, facing the fireplace. There was obvious problem. Business? He couldn’t tell, whatever it was he didn’t care at the moment for he just came from Samantha’s house and he was dead tired. He coolly, as if oblivious to their presence; was making his way across the room to the staircase leading to his room.

“Draco Malfoy”

He froze on his step as he heard his mothers once soothing voice turn icy, a very serious problem. “Yes mother?” he asked as natural as he could curious as to what trouble he involved himself into again. He was like a kid in trouble caught by his mother who he thought was oblivious to his doings. Only he didn’t know what his fault was while his mother did.

“She’s lonely, she’s sad. She’s depressed! And she’s still not well!” That was his godmother.

“Draco, I thought we talked about this. You agreed to take the consequences for the mistakes you’ve done!” His mother exclaimed. He was not sure whether they were punishing him or just desperate to have a daughter-in-law. Either way, it was still much like the former. He folded his arms across his chest, taking in a deep breath.

“I’ve realized that I don’t care.”

“Do you want to die like your father?!” Narcissa asked, outraged.

“Yes. He died bravely with dignity and will to stand for what he believed in.” Draco answered as straight as the question was asked without blinking.

“And what do you believe in?” Aunt Olive asked, raising a brow at him while Marta was calming Narcissa.

“I believe that father should get his justice. And I shouldn’t marry a muggleborn.” He said that with a hard expression on his face, taking a stand against the three dictators of his life.

“And how are you going to achieve that?” Aunt Olive straightened from her seat and her face made that scary dark thing she uses since he was little. He was always scared of that face until now; he just hid it, for he knew it would only make her feel authoritative.

“I’m going to kill her.”

It had been a normal occasion for the Malfoys to talk about death but Narcissa couldn’t help but flinch. Her son was turning into his father… Or is he really? Narcissa Malfoy straightened from her seat and looked directly at his son’s eyes.

“Then kill her. If you don’t, or if you can’t, you’ll have to live by what we talked about.”

“Trust me mother, I can, and I will.”

Draco Malfoy climbed the stairs with a purpose in his every step. As Narcissa looked at his son’s back, she almost remembered her husband; cloak billowing, shoulder straight and head held high. He was pretty much aware what he looked like to his mother, for he felt it, his father’s air he could almost smell.

As he reached the door to his room, he checked for his wand and gladly found it, for the first time in many nights, in his pocket. Pushing the door open, the first thing he looked for and the first thing he saw was Hermione Granger lying on her side of the bed sleeping soundlessly as she always does.

He took every step towards her slowly and as soundless as the room was with his wand in hand. He hadn’t used this curse since after the war, and he gathered all the hatred he had in him. His heartbeat was his background music when he pointed his wand to her chest as he looked at her face for a remembrance of her living state.

With the light of the moon illuminating her frail stature, she looked deathly already. So there was nothing much to remember of her living state.

He smirked.

“Avada………



AN: I’m suppose to end this here. But I don’t like to be hanged.


The sun rose to its early morning height. Narcissa Malfoy silently took a sip from her tea and then looked back at the field below. Marta and Olive did the same thing. Every once in a while, they would look at each other but there were no exchange of words. The maid came and took their cups, but the last cup, Narcissa’s, was accidentally dropped to the floor and shattered to pieces.

Narcissa froze from her seat staring at the sprawled pieces of porcelain. Aunt Olive did a reparo and the muggle maid was slightly amazed. After that, the silence was back until Marta spoke with her high pitched voice, still high-pitched as always which was totally unsuited with the situation.

“She was sweet.”

“She is sweet.” Narcissa corrected, “He didn’t do it. I know.”

“He sounded, and well, looked like he was going to do it.” Aunt Olive voiced.

Silence again. And the tension was building as the time was passing that Draco Malfoy didn’t appear from behind the door to the balcony.

After some time and alas, the knob turned and all looked at the door as it opened slightly. A head with wavy, shining, brown hair, bright eyes and a wide smile. The three old ladies were filled with gladness in their old, wrinkled heart as they smiled back at Hermione. Draco may have had someone killed, but he was not his father. And sweet, smart, innocent soul of Hermione Granger was saved.

“Sorry, I woke up late.” She slid in.

“Is breakfast over already?” That was Draco, who had his hair pulled back like he was when he was young at Hogwarts, only now, instead of a smirk on his lips, he had a smile, standing behind his fiancée, “I’m hungry.”


AN: that was chapter 4! And for manic_rage’s question, I answered it in the review I just felt like putting it here. This is nine years after Hogwarts and making both of them, probably 26…? Did I count it right? Lolz. Hope so.

Thanks for reading!!;) and tell me what you think in a review!;) thanks.


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