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The Mystery of Draco Malfoy

Chapter Three: Waiting for Malfoy

Hermione arrived half an hour early. She calmly went through her checklist in her head. Did she have everything she might need? Her extendable bag was a treasure. It held everything she could think of: an extra wand, supplies in case she had to go on the run, books in case being a kidnapper proved boring. She had made three portkeys: a necklace, a bracelet, and an anklet in case her hands were bound together or she ended up wandless. The first two would take her to Professor McGonagall's cottage when she rubbed the gemstones. The third would take her to Shell Cottage. She had thought about possibly needing one to get her to Grimmauld Place, but she wanted to keep her friends safe from a Death Eater attack in case they followed her somehow. Shell Cottage was empty right now since Bill and Fleur were staying with the Weasleys and Harry at 12 Grimmauld Place. These three portkeys would be considered illegal by the Ministry, which made her feel slightly uncomfortable

Hermione hoped and prayed that Draco Malfoy would be cooperative and that her backup plans would not be necessary. She checked her watch. Fifteen more minutes. She really was too nervous to be hungry, but bit into an apple just for something to do.

No sign of Malfoy.

She had predicted that he would be early. He seemed like an early type of person who would want to have his presence established beforehand. Then it would have seemed like Hermione was the one invading his turf. Hermione circled the interior of the small shack. She stood beside each window and peered carefully out of the corners of the windows for signs of Death Eaters in the area. All was quiet. She chose to stand in the corner of the room least visible to the door. This would have been the corner Malfoy would have selected, she thought. He would have liked to observe her while unseen...unless he opted for a center stage. She went through her checklist again and breathed deeply to keep herself calm. Her wand was in her hand. It was one o'clock.

No sign of Malfoy.

She began to get worried. Was he going to show up? She tried to imagine him rushing in to their appointment, saying, "Sorry, I'm late," but failed. Malfoy would be deliberate and elegant, no matter the time. It was another rule she could add to her book. Malfoys do not rush. However, if he was too late, he might show up at the same time as the Aurors, and then their meeting wouldn't happen at all. He might either be captured by Aurors, or he might quickly disapparate, which seemed more likely. And if he disappeared, so would her chance to speak with him. Disappointment surged through her. Why did she have this desire to connect with him? She wanted answers to her questions; that's why.

No sign of Malfoy.

She wished for the presence of Ron and Harry. They would have helped pass the time, and they would have protected one another. She remembered the times spent under the cover of Harry's invisibility cloak shushing one another. She felt foolish once again for attempting this on her own. Malfoy would probably be uncertain about his reception, so she anticipated that they would try to snatch each other's wand or send hexes. She recited spells that she might have to use in battle. Hopefully, there would be just Malfoy, no other Death Eaters forcing entry. Hermione thought she could handle Malfoy if she needed to. She went over the checklist in her head. Her stomach began to churn. She leaned toward the closest window to peer out. She fidgeted. It was ten after one.

No sign of Malfoy.

Hermione began to lose hope that Malfoy would show up, and this had the effect of keeping her calm. She stopped caring and actually started thinking about lunch. She was bored. She even fingered the novel in her pocket. Oh well, it was a nice try, anyway. Let the Aurors handle it; they were trained for this kind of thing. Her heart stilled, and her mind slowed. She thought of the Weasleys and Harry and wondered what they were doing.

At quarter past one, she heard the pop of someone apparating. The door flew open and Draco Malfoy stood bathed in sunlight. His white blond hair shone in the sun behind him. His black cloak blew in the wind. Hermione smiled.

"Malfoy," she said. "Come in and close the door behind you."

His eyes took a minute to locate her in the darkness of the shack.

"Granger?" he greeted coldly. Hermione gave a sigh of relief and relaxed. He wasn't going to attack. He closed the door, and the stream of light disappeared.

"Malfoy, I need to know what's going on. Is Voldemort still alive? Is Bellatrix? Why are the Death Eaters still attacking innocent people?"

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione's wand flew into Draco's hand. Her eyes flew to his. Draco sneered at her and walked quickly over to Hermione, pointing his wand at her throat. Hermione grabbed his wrist to push the wand away, but he dug it deeper into her throat. Hermione's other hand flew to her necklace as she looked into the eyes of Draco Malfoy.

Her heart sank. His eyes were cold and empty. She had been totally wrong about him. She felt for her second wand.

"Living mudblood. Dead mudblood."

There was death in this face. There was no sympathy or humor or even conflict. Was it only just weeks ago that she had seen agony and horror in these eyes? Where was Draco Malfoy now? Had he given himself over to being a Death Eater? He was going to hurt her, she knew.

"Avada-"

Hermione rubbed her necklace, and the two swirled away. In a moment, they stumbled into a dark cellar. Before Malfoy could finish his spell, Hermione whipped her wand out of her robe and cried, "Petrificus Totalus!"

Draco Malfoy fell over, solid as a board. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to still her beating heart. The worst, really, had happened. She hadn't truly believed that Draco Malfoy might attempt to murder Hermione Granger. She hadn't believed that she would see such a cold, expressionless stare out of his face. She hadn't believed that she would hear the Avada Kedavra from his lips. A dark horror settled deep within Hermione Granger.

She reached over and snatched both wands out of his hand. Now she had three. Her new rule: Always carry two wands. In these times, one never knew when your first wand might be confiscated. She knew that the Dark Side was practicing wandless magic, but she wasn't experienced enough yet to survive without her wand-so-always carry two.

Checking his pockets to be sure that he didn't have any dark artifacts that would kill her or betray their location, Hermione sighed. There was only an hour before the spell would wear off. She would bind him to the chair and then begin their... conversation. She had a feeling it would not be productive given his current state of animosity.

Footsteps and the rattling of dishes and cutlery could be heard upstairs. Was Professor McGonagall home? She felt a wave of relief at the thought and turned to walk upstairs without a backward glance at her disappointing prisoner.

"Hello," she called to give her professor warning. When she reached the kitchen, it was not her teacher who turned, but ...Hermione gasped, "Bellatrix?" Her wand was whipped out in a second, aimed at the woman in front of her.