The History of Knockturn Alley (Dramione)

Chapter 2

  A month passed in which Hermione spent her nights in the little office of Mr. Grey; reading, writing, arguing... She found herself growing accustomed to his eccentric costuming and sarcastic humor. She quite enjoyed sparring with him verbally.

The wizard acted the perfect gentleman and Hermione appreciated it. Still, there was a growing worry in the back of her mind that told her not to trust the man. Hermione had not forgotten the hint that she knew him but it wasn't as important as her research. In fact, she was a bit scared of who he might turn out to be...

Since Hermione's first book had been published, she'd met too many people to remember. He could be a fan or one of the few that had threatened to kill her. If the latter was the case, Hermione reasoned that the wizard would have simply refused to help her or tried something already.

One night, Old John brought in drinks and began to address Mr. Grey but stopped himself and Hermione smirked. So...Old John knew the wizard's identity. As the bartender shut the door, Mr. Grey caught sight of Hermione's expression.

"Ms. Granger, I don't advise badgering Old John for information – he's a stubborn one and won't tell you anything."

Hermione smiled and went back to her reading. Her eyelids were growing heavy when Mr. Grey cleared his throat. Hermione jerked in her chair; she'd been nodding off on her hand.

"You didn't stop for dinner tonight – will you join me for a late bite?"

Hermione blinked, "All right – let me get my cloak."

She yawned and was surprised to feel her cloak being draped over her shoulders. Hands brushed the sides of her neck and Hermione hid the shiver that raced down to her toes. His touch was very different than when he'd threatened her the first night of their acquaintance. Ridiculous thoughts of romantic intentions flitted through her mind but she quickly pushed them aside. It had been an accident that he touched her. How silly of her to think he had wanted to.

"There is a small restaurant around the corner..." he said.

Hermione hid the pink burning her cheeks and moved first through the door he held open.

Mr. Grey was immediately seated in the tiny restaurant. Hermione glanced around; the place looked like any other small establishment that was getting ready to close.

"I thought you said you didn't want special treatment," said Hermione.

"I don't want or ask for special treatment but I will accept preference when it suits me," the wizard replied.

Despite herself, Hermione grinned and began looking over the menu; she hadn't heard of a single dish listed. She glanced at the hidden wizard.

"What is all this?"

The wizard chuckled, "It's Italian - I'll order for you."

"I hope you'll order for yourself – I want to see how you eat in that thing," Hermione teased. She was starving but thoroughly sleepy, resulting in her being a bit silly.

"I won't eat in it..." the wizard said mysteriously.

"I promise not to tell anyone who you are..." Hermione said light-heartedly as she set her menu aside.

Mr. Grey sat silent for a moment; Hermione could feel him staring. Perhaps he didn't appreciate her mild prodding.

"I'll be right back..." he finally said.

The idea was more tempting than she knew; Draco wanted her to know who he was. After weeks of her continuous company, he had grown quite attached to her. He reasoned that she may promise not to reveal his secret but probably wouldn't appreciate him hiding his identity once she knew who he was... Yes, she'd be furious...

That thought bothered Draco more than he wanted to admit while he took off the mask in the loo. He stared at himself in the mirror, wondering what the witch would do if he returned without it... Hermione was a reasonable sort but not where Draco was concerned.

If only she'd give him, Draco, a chance...

Hermione watched Mr. Grey stop to speak with the waitress then disappear around a corner. She let out a sigh of frustration. Instinct stubbornly told Hermione not to trust a wizard that wouldn't allow her to see his face – then again, who was she to demand the break of an ancient tradition..? No one... And nothing to Mr. Grey except an appointment.

Mr. Grey's motives for allowing her use of Knockturn Alley's written records were clearly to influence her thoughts on the Dark Arts. They argued, discussed and flirted over the topic constantly. Mr. Grey was inflexible on the subject; he never missed the opportunity to point out the progress dark magic had sparked.

Hermione giggled remembering how she'd countered him with "I wouldn't necessarily call the need to find cures for new hexes, progress."

Mr. Grey was walking back to their table; Hermione smothered a yawn. She opened her eyes as he took the seat before her and stared at what she could see of his face. His new mask covered the top half of his face; his eyes were obscured by some flickering magic.

Hermione was entranced by the sight of his lips; she'd grown used to not being able to read him except by voice. Seeing his masculine mouth brought a whole new facet to his character. One side of his lips was curled up in a partial grin from her examination.

"Is this better?"

Hermione tried to meet his eyes but the mask swirled where they should be and she glanced at his lips again. Her system received a shock, responding by sending desire gnawing through her gut.

"Much," she replied, hastily tearing her gaze from the tantalizing features he'd revealed to look around. As if drawn to him, she found herself staring again. Well, she could hardly be blamed – she'd gone a month in the wizard's presence and seen nothing more than the pale skin of his hands. She wondered if he was as pale everywhere... Constructed of marble like a statue... He certainly had the shape of a classical sculpture beneath the voluminous black robes...

Relief chased away Hermione's lascivious thoughts as a large dish of pasta was set between them.

Hermione tried not to stare but she constantly found her eyes following his hand as he lifted his fork to his lips. Mr. Grey chuckled and she stoically concentrated on picking at her food.

"Can I assume you prefer this mask to the other?"

Hermione watched his lips form the question then smile at her in an annoyingly knowing manner. She rolled her eyes.

"It's the most I've seen of you..." she said reprovingly, glaring at her plate and toying with her fork.

Draco's grin faded. He was not bothered by her staring; at least, not in an unpleasant way. He had felt her gaze moving over him like a tangible caress. Not until his heart began to race did he realize that he wanted her to touch him. Just the idea of her small, inquisitive hands moving over his skin made his slacks tighter.

The rest of their meal was silent but Draco felt every look Hermione sent his way.

When Hermione was through pushing noodles around her plate she set down her fork and waited. Mr. Grey followed her example.

"Finished?"

Hermione nodded and crossed her arms over her chest, pointedly not looking at him.

"I'm not offended, Ms. Granger..." he said in a quiet voice.

The tense set of Hermione's shoulders relaxed and she gave a tiny smile, "I'm sorry for staring..."

The wizard shook his head and leaned across the table, "Let's leave."

For a second, Hermione thought there was an unspoken invitation in his words; but no. That was only her sleepy imagination wishing he'd offered to take her home and do sensual things with that sensual mouth...

"Yes," said Hermione. "It's long past my bedtime." She slowly got up from her chair and pulled her cloak onto her shoulders. She remembered the sensation of his hands brushing her neck and another shiver of desire ran through her. This wouldn't do. She could NOT lust after a man that refused to show her his face.

Mr. Grey took her arm at the entrance of the building; Hermione wondered if he was suffering from the same longing to not part ways.

"Goodnight, Mr. Grey... And thank you for dinner..." she said.

Draco was confused; he wanted to keep the intelligent witch in his pocket and take her with him everywhere. Her company was refreshing and he found their discussions, even when they escalated into arguments, stimulating. It was the first time he'd been attracted to a witch for her brains. Not that Hermione was unattractive; he'd noticed her gentle curves and she had very fine features... Yes, he was well-aware of her physical beauty but he realized his attraction was increasing when he began anticipating her arrival every evening.

There was only the problem of his identity in the way. Once she knew Mr. Grey as Draco Malfoy, Hermione would probably smack him and offer a lengthy berating.

"Goodnight, Ms. Granger," he finally replied, letting go of her arm.

Hermione had been holding her breath and it came out as a disappointed sigh when Mr. Grey left her. She watched him head back towards his office. She'd thought, for just a moment, that he might kiss her.

Apparating directly to the door of her flat, Hermione was embarrassed by her desire. She'd stared at Mr. Grey's lips all night, convinced he was flattered by her attention; and perhaps he was, but that didn't mean he was interested in her.

With a resolution to concentrate only on her research, Hermione went to bed.

The next day, Hermione went prowling around Knockturn Alley. She visited with many shopkeepers and was pleasantly surprised that Mr. Grey had rescinded his order – most were quite willing to speak with her. She learned a great deal about the recent history of the alley. Soon, Hermione found herself in a dark tea shop chatting amicably with a group of witches. They ranged in age from fifteen to fifty and found great delight in discussing hexes. She had a lot of fun, encouraged to add her opinions on the topic.

When Hermione's appointed time to meet Mr. Grey came, she was knocking at his office.

"Enter," she heard him call.

Hermione pushed open the door and her determined smile faded; Mr. Grey was wearing the partial mask again. Immediately, Hermione felt the tug of want slide through her body. She wondered how just that small portion of his face could induce such a large reaction.

"Evening, Mr. Grey," Hermione said, removing her cloak and hanging it behind the door.

Hours passed in complete silence except for the scratch of quills on parchment. Hermione would glance up, thinking she felt Mr. Grey watching her but he seemed quite intent on his ledger. Cursing herself for a fool, Hermione would turn back to her reading, struggling to focus.

A few more hours passed and Hermione set down her quill to stretch. She fetched herself some Butterbeer and sat back down.

"I heard you spoke with some of the store owners today..." said Mr. Grey, finally breaking their intense quiet.

"Yes, I did," said Hermione. She couldn't be sure, but she thought that his mask might be empty of the magic obscuring his eyes. It was hard to say in the candlelight and she couldn't see their color.

"How did you find them?"

"Most of them were quite nice – I especially enjoyed meeting the witches at the old tea shop." Hermione smiled, remembering the passionate discussion she'd gotten into.

Mr. Grey sat back in his chair and settled his arms across his stomach; Hermione was certain his mask wasn't obscuring his eyes. She waited for the candles to flicker so she could see them.

"Ms. Granger?"

Those delicious lips were mocking her; Hermione shook her head. She'd been caught staring again.

"It's late, I think I should be going home..." she said, tidying her desk.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Grey get up and move towards her. When he was standing beside her, she finally looked up.

"You've been awful quiet tonight, Hermione..." he said.

Hermione swallowed the pulse throbbing in her throat; he was so close. Very slowly, she stood. Mr. Grey's eyes gleamed at her from beneath his hood. Unable to resist, Hermione reached up and tilted his chin so that more light fell on his face. Grey eyes; he had pale grey eyes. They could be charmed that color... Unconsciously, Hermione lifted her other hand as if to push back his hood but he stopped her.

Draco grasped the witch's tiny wrists; the touch of her little fingers on his jaw was entrancing. He'd been watching her all night; too aware of her silence and the practically tangible tension. He leaned closer to her, wondering if she'd guessed who he was yet.

Hermione stood on her toes to meet his mouth. The lips that had taunted and haunted her touched hers and the world fell away. His hands tightened around her arms, pulling her to press along his body. When his tongue slid over hers, Hermione was lost. She'd fantasized about his mouth all night but the reality was consuming. Her heart raced and she freed her arms to slide her palms across the back of his neck.

She found only cloth and suddenly, her fantasy was ruined. No – not with some unknown man; not with a wizard that refused to trust her with his identity. She stepped back, bumping into her chair.

Draco reached out to keep her from falling but she twisted away from his hands, using the chair to balance herself and placing it between them.

"I'd better go," she said, hurrying for the door.

"Wait," said Draco but she was gone. He tore off the wretched mask and robes and pulled out his wand.

Draco Apparated to her doorstep and waited.

Hermione checked her pockets – she'd forgotten her wand. Damn. It was lying on her desk; she'd have to go back in there... It's not like he'd attack her – he was a gentleman, sardonic, but a gentleman.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione swung the office door open without knocking and was surprised to see his robes strewn carelessly on the floor; the mask rested on top. Curious, she stepped around it and grabbed her wand from the desk. What would have made him remove his costume and leave it so hastily on the floor? Perhaps he was angry... Mr. Grey didn't strike Hermione as someone she wanted mad at her.

With a final glance at the robes, Hermione Disapparated home.

The door to her flat was open just a sliver. If it weren't night and light wasn't obviously burning in her home, she might not have noticed. No Muggle could have broken into her house – she had wards all over the exterior.

Hermione pushed on the door with the tip of her wand; she didn't see movement in the living area or hall.

"I'm armed," she called into the still house.

"Hermione," said a voice from the shadowy corner of the living area.

Hermione swung around, pointing her wand at a familiar figure. He stepped into the light and shock zipped through her system. Her brain couldn't comprehend who she was looking at. He was the shape of Mr. Grey with the hair and features of someone else... Someone she hadn't seen in years...

"M-Malfoy?!"

"No robes, no mask," he said, walking towards her.

"You – you..." Hermione couldn't speak. Malfoy hadn't been a thought in her head since leaving Hogwarts. Seeing him as a grown wizard and relating him to Mr. Grey just wasn't processing.

"It's been a long time..." he said with the smirking lips Hermione had memorized. He was standing close enough for Hermione to poke him with her wand. She lowered it, unable to look away, still absorbing that she'd spent over a month in his company and relished every moment. And he'd kissed her... Draco Malfoy had kissed her...