Spellbound (Dramione Smut Story)

Chapter Twelve

Draco

I stood in my dressing room, reading over the page once more. I had found it on my table at St. Mungo's about a week ago. I vaguely remember her walking out. Looking at the letter now, it still stung.

Dear Draco,

It read:

I'm sorry you felt you had to hurt yourself over me. The way I walked out was unprofessional and cruel, so I take full credit for your injuries. I will even pay your medical bill, but this is the last time we interact with or contact each other.

The months that I've spent with you were heavenly. I loved being with you, but it's unfair for both of us to keep up this relationship. I fell in love with someone else. To date you would be to lie to you constantly. I can't do that to you. And anyway, it's not right for me to be dating someone who lied to me for months. You sure know how to hold a girl spellbound, Draco. I'll give you that.

There are plenty of other women in the wizarding world, for I know you prefer the pure-blooded. As I am writing, there are girls squealing outside your door. Strange how they knew your name and I didn't... they all seem to be so obsessed with you. But maybe that's not what you want. If not, I'm sure your masquerade ruse will work again.

I suppose I should bid you farewell. We had a good run. I have to leave now. Goodbye, Draco.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger

After reading the letter for the first time, I had demanded that I be let go. Potter had told me it wouldn't be wise to try and persuade her, at which point I told him I wasn't, and I was going back to the club.

"You can't be serious! Malfoy, honestly, the Ministry will pay-"

"Five times less." I finished. "I've always belonged on the platforms, Harry. I've been away for far too long-"

"So, what? You're just going to drop Hermione and move on to the a new bitch?"

"No, but I am going back to work. And anyway, you just said to 'drop Hermione' yourself!"

"Because she has no interest in you whatsoever!"

"Thanks for reminding me!"

"Malfoy, listen if I could just-"

"NO, HARRY!" I had yelled. "I WANT TO GO BACK TO WORK! The sooner I do, the sooner I get her off of my mind! You can't protect everyone!"

I had left St. Mungo's two days later, new bones and skin making up my arm. My Dark Mark was now nonexistent.

I set the letter down on my dressing table, where it was destined to always stay. My mask lay next to it, gold and elegant. I picked it up delicately, watching myself in the mirror as I tied it at the back of my head, pressing the worn adhesive to my cheeks. It's enchantment was broken.  A part of me wished it would remain broken.

I glanced behind my reflection, my eyes resting on a new poster of mine. "DRACO MALFOY RETURNS" it read at the top in gold shimmering letters. Beneath those words was my face beneath my mask, silver eyes blinking up at the camera. "MASKED" was the phrase that flashed across my bare chest.

When I had returned to the strip club, crowds had blocked the doors, demanding to know why I had been in St. Mungo's. Naturally, those who had been there said that I was horribly disfigured, and that only they could still love me. Just as I was about to address the crowds, my old friend and now owner of the strip club, Nixon Troblé, stopped me.

"No, Malfoy," he had purred, the cold rings he wore on every finger cooling me through my shirt. "This is an advantage to be had. If your followers think you're injured, they'll want you more. If we tell them you cost extra, they'll pay it." He had recoiled at the look I had given him. "I'll split that fee between the two of us! Don't worry, I'm not heartless!"