It's Out

 

The secret is out; everyone knows…

---

His stomach grumbled and he was awakened by the curtains barely being able to keep the sunlight from entering his room. He groaned a little, not liking the intrusion of sunlight and moved into a more comfortable position so that he could sleep more. His silk sheets are the only thing he could think about as he rested on them, basking in the comfort of such a luxury. Reprimanding himself for being a little lazy and inefficient with his time (his father used to always say that time was money), he got out of bed and got himself ready the day.

Walking down the hallways, he could hear his footsteps resonating around the mansion. Today, unfortunately, his mother was here and he had to (he didn’t really think he had a choice) eat breakfast at the dreaded table. As he passed the sleepy portraits that muttered their approval at him, quite surprisingly, some gave him a glare and said something about disgracing the family and name. He didn’t know what they were talking about but he believed that it may have something to do with work and his recent association with Muggles and their advancing technology which were proving out to be a huge success financially, for him and his company.

He made his entrance into the dining hall where he saw his mother and ‘partner’ already sitting there, breakfast laid out before them. His mother had started eating and as soon as she caught sight of him, she beckoned him over to eat as well. He made cautious steps towards her. She seemed a little disappointed about something but was trying to cover it up with a smile. His partner, on the other hand, had not started eating. Like every other morning, she always waited for him to arrive before she actually dug in eating. She was a mix of emotions. When he looked at her he could see some sort of pain in her eyes and yet some sort of satisfaction. But above all, he could see her nervousness and fear. It was more prominent today than it was any other day.

He took a seat at the head of the table. The house elves scurried to put breakfast in front of him, all heated and ready to eat. There was something strange going on, even in the house elves’ behaviour. He picked up his knife and fork and put a slice of bacon in his mouth. Realising that he was missing something, he demanded the house elf for his newspaper that he always read with his breakfast.

“Draco, what good is a family if there is no patriarch to lead them? Having your head in the newspaper is in no way contributing to this family,” his mother said.

He looked at her suspiciously. She never objected to him reading the newspaper. “I believe that it is contributing to this...” he trailed off, unsure of the correct word he should use, “family by supporting it financially. How will I know of good investors and investments if I don’t read the newspaper?” He deadpanned to his mother.

This efficiently stopped his mother. Reading the newspaper was a morning routine and while he liked change, he didn’t like changes that he didn’t make to his own life. He held his hand out by the side of the table. When he still didn’t feel the newspaper in his hands, he turned towards his house elves who were all looking timidly at each other. His jaw clenched. He had always made sure that he carried himself with utmost importance and made himself seem untouchable, so that no one would dare to disobey him.

Trying to calm his growing temper, he barely managed to utter a civilised reply, “Give me the newspaper.”

Carefully, with shaking fingers, the house elf whose name he could not remember placed the newspaper in his hands before cautiously stepping back. He took the newspaper in his hands and could feel the stiffness that enveloped everyone. He didn’t know what was wrong.  He folded out the newspaper and found that obviously there was nothing important about business on the front page. It wasn’t anything even remotely interesting at all. That is, in the world of money it wasn’t.

Long-time Enemies – Unexpected Lovers?

It has been reported by a close source that Draco Malfoy and Hermione Weasley, nee Granger, are having an affair. While both are married, it seems that this hasn’t stopped them from their secret rendezvous induced with sweet love. The former play-boy bachelor’s wife, Daphne Malfoy, nee Greengrass, and husband of the Brains of the Golden Trio, Ronald Weasley have yet to comment on their respective spouses supposed affair.

The rest of the article was somewhat long-winded and had plenty of details that the journalist (to his undying surprise, was Rita Skeeter) probably made up. This wasn’t to say that most of them was necessarily wrong. Rita Skeeter just had a way of making sure that things were blown fully out of proportion, which made him all the more uncomfortable because while it was true, it was also partially false.

He knew Granger well enough. Unlike with his other mistresses whenever he gave her presents and showered her with materialistic gifts, she always declined, insisting that she could do everything herself and earn that all herself. It upset him a little at first. After all, no one had dared to refuse whatever he had presented and given them. But he got used to it and never gave her anything, not unless she needed it. (She never directly asked him for it, he always found out and solved it for her but she never really knew that he was the one behind it. At least, he didn’t think she knew.) She, more than anything, wanted their affair to remain a secret and non-existent to the public. It was now impossible, though.

He knew for a fact that he certainly hadn’t gone to the media and blabbed all about it. It was scandalous and for one, he didn’t think that it would have a good impact on Malfoy Inc. He also, as much as he liked Granger as a mistress, didn’t want to boast about it. But if he didn’t do it and he knew for certain that she would never do it, then who did it?

“You were with one of your mistresses, weren’t you?”

Silence greeted her sentence as he went back to calmly eating his food, finding her unworthy of his attention for even a few seconds.

“Of course you were. That’s where you are when you mysteriously disappear somewhere or work overtime at your office. You go and sleep with one of your slutty mistresses who have no dignity whatso-“

“Granger is not slutty and has more dignity than you ever will,” he replied in a cold voice, fury surging in his veins. He felt fury at his ‘partner’, and when everything decided to hit him like a hurricane, he was furious at himself before putting the blame onto Granger. She was the only one who was able to make him unleash his emotions.

His ‘partner’ looked at him with shock in her eyes and he knew what she was thinking. (‘Granger, what do mean by Granger?’)

He took a look up from his newspaper. He looked at his partner as she watched him carefully before casting her eyes down to her plate of uneaten and played-with food. He glared at her with bitter resentment. This would have a big impact on everything that he held dear: himself, the ‘Malfoy’ name and the company. (He surprised himself when a name came to his mind that he knew shouldn’t be there – Granger.) His ‘partner’ was going to pay, dearly.

---

She watched her husband read the newspaper. The more he read, the wider his eyes became and the more furious he was. All throughout her life, she had seen him angry many times, but never this angry.

“Is something the matter?” she asked, the love from their newly-wed days inside her voice had long dissolved into nothing but dust and thin air.

He looked at her furiously, “No, nothing’s the matter at all.” He spat at her with contempt.

She looked at him incredulously, her eyes saying ‘Really?’ “Here, let me see,” she said and gestured to the newspaper.

“Are you cheating on me?” He was still angry but had somewhat managed to calm himself down.

“What?”

“With Malfoy? Are you cheating on me?”

She gulped, “No.” (But by the look that he gave her, even he knew that she wasn’t saying anything true.)

He lowered his voice, “You can’t cheat on me. No one married can.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Oh, this is rich. I can’t cheat on you, and yet you can.”

“This is different,” he spat out, not looking at her. “At least I’m not fraternising with the enemy.”

“Well, at least I’m not going around with many lovers and at the very least; I’m not doing it in public.” She glared at him, “What’s your point?”

(What follows is a clatter of plates and glasses shattering on the tiled floor, angered and muffled screams with bitter tears running down her face and bitter resentment displayed on his and the first time in months that they make love which leaves him and her injured inside and out.)