Bunches of thanks to a Brilliant Beta, TheRimmerConnection. A round of applause for TRC. *Clap, clap, clap.
Previously…
There was the Draco that she knew and hated. Well, a grown up version of him. She clenched her teeth, hating that he looked pretty bloody good. She almost preferred the Polyjuice Draco.
Person(s) of interest: Robert Lynn Green (Muggle) and spouse Latisha Maria Johnson-Green (Muggle)
Age(s): RLG 27 LMJG 24
Official occupation(s): RLG Bouncer, LMJG Bartender/Dancer.
Name and location of employment: Delirium NightClub 1526 South East 89th Street, Chicago, Illinois USA
Suspected occupation(s): Fishers for Sutekh Siebog and Limia Vritra Siebog, Wizard and witch.
Suspected role of Person(s) of Interest: Use(s) position at Delirium to lure muggles picked by Sutekh and Limia into captivity for magical reasons unknown.
Task: Befriend Robert Lynn Green and Latisha Maria Johnson-Green.
Use friendship to infiltrate Delirium and inner-circle of the Siebogs.
Obtain evidence of actions and motives for use in the building of a case to try for the incarceration of the Siebogs.
Hermione looked up from her binder. You have to be bloody kidding me, she thought. It didn't matter how many times she read it, it was more then she wanted to deal with. I should have asked more questions with Ginny. A lot more. She was to help get evidence on the Siebogs? Infamous wizarding couple, who were the wizarding world's version of the Mafia. A death sentence, that's what this is.
"So, you seem to be a good flyer," Draco said nervously. She looked and tried very hard not to roll her eyes. Or laugh. Draco, with trembling hands, sipped his rum and coke. She noted the three empty cups The failed nerve calmers, she guessed. Draco tightened his seat belt again.
"I've flown in a plane before. It's no big deal."
"No big deal?No big deal? How is this no big deal?" He motioned his hands in a circle, finished his drink and held up his empty cup. Promptly an attendant was there, pretzels and liquid courage in hand.
"How is this a big deal to you? You were seeker at school. Flew up to the clouds on a flimsy stick," Hermione remarked nonchalantly as she flipped a page of the in-flight shopping magazine.
"Not the bloody same and you know it. Here: stuck inside of a tin can. Not able to Apparate if something goes wrong. On a stick, as you put it, I'm in control. Why the hell couldn't we have just Apparated there?" he whined before sipping his drink.
"Paper trail; you said so yourself.'Have to have a paper trail, we're posing as muggles, Granger. Muggles have paper trails." Isn't that what you said? I suggested just popping over there, even flooing there; but no, Mr. I-Know-Best said fly. So we flew." She was enjoying watching Draco sweat. Seeing him and his high horse knocked down a few pegs: very much worth the long flight.
She listened to the 'Bloody Hells!' 'Bollocks!' and 'Flipping wankers!' for only an hour more before she took a sleeping pill.
"Buggering cock-sucking wankers! Hope every one of them chokes on a Big Mac!" Hermione jerked awake. Her fellow travelers were standing up and retrieving their baggage from the overhead compartments. She looked over at Draco. He looked bad. "Well, good morning, Sleeping-fucking-Beauty. I'm not talking to you. How could you sleep? Half a dozen times we almost fell out of the bloody sky, and there you were sleeping!"
"Um, sleeping pill. I offered you one and you made a lovely remark about how you would never contaminate your body with muggle poison."
"I'm not talking to you." She shrugged. She could handle him not talking.
They passed through customs, baggage pickup, and bathroom breaks, all without talking. Hermione smiled as she waited for Draco to finish in the loo. She had slept very well on the plane. Best she'd slept on a plane in years. The airport was booming with travelers. They were either going to grandma's, or to the next big vacation spot, or, like them, traveling for business. Anyway, she was in a great mood. Which surprised her a little, but she knew the reason. It was the adrenaline of a mission. She had become so accustomed to the adrenaline before the war ended, it had been normal. Trudging around in the Chamber of Secrets, or dealing with werewolves, she had always used her mind to stay alive and now she was back in the same situation again. She hated to admit it, because she felt guilty about leaving Maggie, but she was excited.
"What are you smiling about?" She turned to find Draco pinching the bridge of his nose. He was either still pissed up, or finally hungover, but at least he was over the pouting.
"Nothing. Come on. Martha Lynn said that there will be a blue car in 38-J on the third level. Let's get going." He nodded and wordlessly followed.
Hermione, mother of one, was pretty good at tuning out background noise, yet still having an ear for the important noises. She was using this skill as she drove to the apartment that would be called 'Home Sweet Home' until otherwise advised. When they placed the last bag on the living room floor, Draco flopped onto the couch and passed out. With his snoring as her companion, Hermione surveyed the area. Two bedrooms: one set up as a bedroom, the other as an office. One bathroom. Small kitchen, separate from the open room, which was living room and dining room. She stepped out onto the balcony to appreciate the view.
How lucky were they? She asked herself. They had a full view of the city and of Lake Michigan.
Hermione was placing her unpacked luggage in the corner of the closet when she heard someone clear their throat behind her. She turned and found Draco at the door. He looked more alive now, which was good, because she was not going to coddle him.
"There's no food here," he announced. She stood up and arched her back, trying to crack it. She may have slept well on the plane, but her back was mad at her.
"I made a shopping list. It's on the table if you would like to take a look and add anything you want," she said. She closed the closet and walked across the bedroom. Draco stood at the door showing no intention of letting her pass.
"Since we're posing as a couple, I see the crew only supplied one bedroom." He looked at her, his eyes giving away no emotion.
"I saw. I thought our clothing should be in the bedroom…mixed together, you know like a couple. There is a fold-away bed in the office." She shoved her hands in her pockets, trying to train herself not to fuss with her hair.
"Well, I am lead on this case, so it would just make sense for me to have the bedroom."
"What? You're kidding. I was drafted for this. I should have the bedroom as compensation and don't you dare bring up blood status or I swear on Merlin's beard I will kick you in the face."
He chuckled, which irritated Hermione.
"Fine, I will allow you to have the bedroom," he said as he turned to go to the kitchen. Mad and disgusted, she followed him.
"Allow me? Allow me? No! You're not allowing me anything. I do not need your permission to have that room and if that is what you think you're doing, I don't want it. You may have the room. I don't want it!"
He listened to her as he reviewed the shipping list. He wanted that room and knew just how to handle the situation. He remembered that she had been, and most likely still was, very strong-headed. He knew she would go flipping mad over him 'allowing' her anything and look what he had got: The room.
Shopping was quiet, which suited Draco just fine. He still had a headache from drinking so heavily on the Trans-Atlantic flight. The rest of the evening was quiet as well. It wasn't until it was time to call it a night, that the task of meeting the Greens popped up.
"So they live just down the hall. I reckon I can use my charming good looks and skill to win over the wife," he said with the infamous arrogance that only a true Malfoy could pull off. Hermione scoffed.
"James, yes, I do believe that you can charm, con, cheat and lie your little ferret arse into her bed." She tapped her chin. "Oh wait, hmm. Now let's think farther then your nose and work this out. You shag her for info, Mister Green finds out, plots your death, and where does that leave us? Oh yes! Nowhere! Keep it in and just bump into Robert in the hall. Introduce yourself; see if he likes rugby or something."
"Is that all you think about? Shagging? All I meant was I would chat her up, ring her one evening to ask if she and her husband wanted to double date." He stood up and shook his head. "Honestly Granger, get your head in the game." As he started to pass Hermione, she stood quickly and grabbed a fistful of his shirt.
"Listen here and listen well. I want to go home alive. I have people at home I love and want to see again. So you get your damned head into the mission. One: it is not a game. Lives depend on this. Two: as you have pointed out, we are to go by our cover names. Anna," she said pointing at herself. "Not Granger: Anna. Get that thought your thick skull. Three, I'm taking the bedroom. Did you honestly think I wouldn't see through your little stunt?" She let go of him and walked across the room. "For crying out loud, I worked for the Ministry, I know how that game is played."
Draco stood in awe as he watched her disappear into the bedroom and shut the door. He bent down and picked up his tea. He opened the sliding door to the balcony and made his way to the railing. It wasn't until now that he allowed himself to smile.
She was the only person he could think of who would play an active part in them getting out of this alive and with the evidence that they needed. He could do without her insufferable know-it-all attitude though.
Hermione woke up to the smell of food. Her stomach growled, demanding to be fed. She slid out of bed, fixed her blankets, dressed and made her way to the kitchen. She found a battle-ready Draco at the stove. Leaning against the frame, she took in the sight.
Draco stood just in front of the stove, oven mitts covering both hands. Spatula in one hand and a large serving fork in the other. She cleared her throat. He spun around and she tried to keep a straight face. 'I'm panicked' was all but spray painted across his forehead.
"The bloody thing is defective. Eggs must be bad too." He pointed at the skillet. Hermione walked over and peeked in. "Look at them. The whole carton was bad right? I've never seen eggs do that before." Hermione nodded as she bit her tongue. She wanted today to go off without any fighting or pouting.
"I would agree, must be bad. How about you go clean up for the day, and I'll get something together for breakfast?" she offered. He nodded and slowly peeled his kitchen armor off.
"I wanted to make a fresh start with you." Hermione looked over, trying to see if she had heard him correctly. "Bury the hatchet for the mission, yeah?" She nodded.
"That's a brilliant idea. I agree that we need to have a truce." She held her hand out and showed her small diplomatic smile when he accepted and shook. When he left, she removed the skillets of burned food from the stove.
Yes, bad eggs always burn to a crisp like this. The burner set tohigh; he didn't have anything to do with it. She shook her head as placed the skillet in the sink.
Hermione was wound tighter then she liked to be. It had been a solid week and neither she nor Draco had met the Greens yet. Hermione, on the fourth day, had sat in the stairwell all evening, waiting for them. By the sixth night, both of them were sitting in the stairwell. Tension in the apartment was so thick, they could choke on it. She sat on the couch, sipping her tea and planning a night out. She was sick of the 'Oops!Sorry about that' approach to meeting the Greens. Now she was looking at just walking into the club and seeking them out. She heard Draco slam a drawer in the kitchen again. That's it! She slammed her cup down on the coffee table and stormed to the kitchen.
"What's your bloody problem huh?" she barked. Draco pulled open another drawer with angry force. He roughly shifted the utensils around, picking out knifes and dropping them on the counter. He slammed the drawer shut and picked each knife up one by one.
"Blunt." He dropped the knife in the sink. "Blunt…Blunt…Blunt…Bloody Fucking Blunt!" He spun around and leaned back on the counter. The frustration of not meeting the Greens finally built up and was ready to explode. "Dear wifie, please explain why every bloody knife in this poor excuse of a kitchen is blunt?"
Hermione crossed her arms, readying herself for the verbal fight she had been looking for all day. "Do not call me 'wifie'."
"Fine Pumpkin, why are there no sharp knives!"
"Looking for one to slit your wrist?" she asked sarcastically. His face reddened like it used to when they were at school.
"Nope. Looking at using it on you," he said with a cold voice. "But that idea is shot to hell on a broom, so I'm at square one again."
"Are you even sure that we are at the correct location? Are you even sure that they live down the hall? Are your poor academics the reason we're stuck in this windy arse city, in this bloody cockroach infested apartment, staring at our thumbs?"
"Sod off." He walked past her, hitting her with his shoulder. Mad that he didn't even try to avoid hitting her, she turned and picked up the first thing she could reach and threw it at him.
The book flew with a precision that she would never be able to recreate on her best day. It hit Draco in the back of the head at the moment he stepped into the hallway.
"Pumpkin, count your bloody blessings that I don't hit women," he sneered without turning around. He slammed the door shut and Hermione stormed to the bathroom.
Four hours and thirty-eight minutes later, Hermione was worried. She took up pacing the apartment at the three hour mark. She had already peeked down the hall: no Draco. Peeked down the stairwell, no Draco. Not on the bench across the street, not at the Diner on the corner.
He was gone.
She flopped down on the couch, chewing her nail, just as the phone rang. She looked at it suspiciously for a second, and then the idea of Draco calling home hit her. She shot off the couch.
"Hello!" She could hear music in the background and people talking. She turned and looked out of the window. It was later then she had thought. "Hello?" she repeated.
"Is this the wifie?" A male voice asked. Hermione's heart jolted.
"Yes," she meekly said.
"Well if you want him back, you'll need to come get him at Delirium. Do you know where that is?" She nodded.
"Yes, I know where that is."
"Good. From where you are it should only take you twenty minutes this time of night." Hermione looked at the receiver, the line was dead.
