Chapter Seven: Failed Mission
Have you informed Him of the lady's visit?
No, Master.
You better not be lying to me.
I tell the truth, Master.
I can't trust you.
I understand, Master...
...Master?
What.
She's nice, Master.
Nobody asked for your opinion, you midget of a scoundrel.
She blew it. Obviously she had failed the mission, but Hermione was not particularly concerned. After all, she never really wanted to spy on Malfoy. No, she was more so upset because, however perversely twisted the circumstances were, she had just blown the one opportunity to reconnect with Malfoy. Whatever lingering attachment she had for him though, well, now she knew she did not care for him. That pompous ill-tempered scumbag...
The moment she entered her apartment she carelessly tossed her coat onto the sofa and went into the kitchen to boil some water. It took her a moment to realize she was making tea out of habit before blowing out the fire and flopping down onto the carpeted floor in front of the coffee table. What was I thinking, trying to change Malfoy?
"You don't understand, Granger."
Those words kept ringing in her head. Maybe she pushed him too hard. Maybe there was a particular reason why Symon upset him. Sighing, she decided she did want some tea after all and reheated the pot. Under her breath she muttered "Accio folder" and Malfoy's files came flying from Hermione's study onto the kitchen counter. She then sat down to read the files over meticulously.
Draco Malfoy, 22
-Direct heir to the Malfoy family
-Working in real estate business since before the onset of the war
-Platinum blonde hair, grey eyes, 6ft (183cm) tall
-Death Eater since 17, though record clean
-Current direct involvement in the Dark Alliance is unclear
This last part, the fact that his direct involvement was ambiguous was why the Ministry had their eye on Draco Malfoy. Then what made them suspicious? Right, Symon. There. She found the page she had read about him.
Symon, age unknown (young)
-A house elf
-Distantly related to Kreacher, the Black family's last house elf
-Currently enlisted under the Malfoy family
-Unique due to his particular green skin tone – yes, Hermione had made a note of that when she met him.
-Name mentioned by informant before Lucius' death
Draco Malfoy said that Symon arrived at his house about two years ago. That was about a year after the war started. According to the files, the Malfoy family's witnessed involvement in crime increased substantially around then.
The interesting part was that an arrested member of the Dark Alliance had mentioned Symon's name in trial. Highly unusual. Who would ever think of ratting out on a house elf, instead of the house elf's master? The files also pointed out that the informant was mentally unstable when questioned. Possibly the insane man simply mentioned Symon in association with Lucius Malfoy. The court thus linked Symon's name to the Malfoys' involvement in crime. With all the other testimonies by witnesses, they were ready to arrest Lucius.
But that was before Lucius' untimely death. His cause of death was an unknown, but nobody bothered to ask. His family certainly did not say a thing. The court decided the case was over. But when another informant mentioned Symon's name a month after Lucius' death… something was fishy.
And so Hermione was assigned to her mission.
And I failed already.
How marvelous.
She broke out of her trace as the teapot howled. She looked up at the clock. Midnight. Harry still wasn't back. She realized she hadn't been thinking about him at all the entire evening, and she felt guilty.
He must be on another dangerous mission... and what was I doing all this time? Swooning over a man that proved to be a waste of time. And yet... again, those last words Malfoy said to her.
"You don't understand, Granger."
And his eyes, sadder than she'd ever seen. It bothered her so.
x x x
It wasn't for another two hours before Harry returned. He came home to find Hermione dozing off on their sitting room sofa, a mug of tea cold on the coffee table. He tried not to disturb her, but Hermione shot up instantly at the sound of the front door closing.
"Harry... you're home."
"Hey, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," he apologized, hurrying to her side and embracing her, "You look exhausted."
Hermione chuckled, "this, coming from a man who just came back from dueling the enemy."
Harry smiled, but then his lips quickly curled downwards again, "You were dueling with an enemy yourself."
Those words woke her up clearly. He knew?
"Colin informed me after tonight's work... why didn't you tell me?"
He looked at her pleadingly. He was upset, and she could tell. After all, she went ahead with the mission without even discussing it once with him.
"I'm sorry... I... he... I didn't have the chance to," Hermione mumbled. Harry didn't look very convinced.
She sighed, and gave in, "I'm really sorry, I shouldn't be making excuses for myself... I was just scared to discuss it with you, knowing you wouldn't approve. I didn't want to do this either... but I guess I felt like it was my opportunity to do something useful for people - the way you're working night and day. ...though all that is moot now. I failed."
Harry listened to her intently as she explained what happened. He rubbed his messy black hair and sighed.
"Hermione... I really wish we'd talked before all this happened. We're married. We have to communicate with each other. What am I here for if you can't even confide in me?"
It almost made her cry that her neglect of him had made him say such a thing. She nodded apologetically and reached her arms around him. He wrapped his arms around her tiny frame too and stroked her soft wavy hair. "It's okay. Let's forget this whole thing," he whispered. She squeezed him tightly. He was so warm, so understanding. After so many years of friendship and then being together as a couple, Hermione renewed her understanding of why she fell in love with him and married him.
"I love you, Harry."
"I love you too, sweetheart."
x x x
The next couple weeks were peaceful for the Potter couple. Hermione wrote a report to Colin of her failure to gain much insider information. She had some breakthrough in her research - Symon's skin color inspired her to discover a possible hierarchy among house elves depending on their physical appearance. She spent a lot of time with Harry, who got some time off from his work. They went to see Jupiter together, which Hermione was glad to see with Harry this time. They met up with Ron at a bar one night too, and Hermione met Harry's co-worker Layla for the first time.
"So you're Hermione! I've heard a lot about you." Layla shook her hand with such enthusiasm that Hermione thought she may dislocate her arm, "and Ronny! I haven't seen you in a while, how's your wife?"
"You look fabulous today, Layla!" Ron said at the top of his voice as Layla gave him a hug. He had been at the bar for a few hours by then and was quite wasted.
"Oh, Ronny! You're too nice. Do you like my new earrings?" Layla swooped up her long curly blonde hair and showed off her dangly earrings that matched the red highlights in her hair.
"Anything looks beautiful on you, Layla," Harry laughed, as he ordered all of them another round of margaritas. Layla squealed happily and went dancing around the room, greeting everyone of her friends at the bar. The bar was filled with Ministry workers - like Ron, who worked in the Finance and Accounting Department. Layla seemed to know everyone.
"She's very bubbly," Hermione whispered to Harry. It was only her second time at this bar and she was still feeling a little uncomfortable with all the rowdiness. Usually she went home directly, or stayed at work till so late that she wouldn't feel like drinking. Ron seemed like a frequent customer though, now he was singing heartily in the corner with his arm around the bartender.
"Oh yea," Harry agreed as he handed her a glass, "she's still young. Very serious at work though. Brilliant Auror."
"I bet."
She had to be. To had advanced so quickly and be working on the front line at the age of nineteen. She was the only teenager in their whole team.
The night rolled on, with more laughter and singing and drinking. After her second shot of whiskey and countless margaritas and cans of beer, Hermione felt like she was floating whenever she tried to walk. She ended up sitting next to Harry and Layla at a table, with her face in her folded arms, as Ron snored away to her side.
"You okay, Hermione?" Harry shook Hermione's shoulder lightly, which caused a wave of headaches for her. She grunted softly in pain.
"Dude, he's OUT," Layla announced as she poked Ron in the head again and again. He did not respond.
"He sure does snore loudly," Harry said, as he rested his head in his hand, "it's giving me a headache."
Layla giggled, "Not as loud as you are, Harry. I swear I can't sleep on nights when we share a room."
Share a room? Hermione woke up instantly, her dreamy eyes looking very inquisitive, "How do you know how Harry snores?" she asked.
Harry seemed flustered, though in her inebriated state Hermione barely registered his expressions. Layla on the other hand, did not seemed bothered at all.
"Oh, Auror work partners often share a room when they work overnight. Though when I say share a room..." Layla chuckled again.
"Layla..." Harry interjected quickly, "Hermione, she's talking about those tiny cubbyholes I told you about. You know."
Tiny cubbyhole. Hermione vaguely remembered Harry describing the temporary sleep rooms they used during work shifts. There were several sleeping bags per cubby, and male female alike had to make do with these tiny spaces for the little sleep they would get. As she tried to visualize what Harry described, Hermione felt like her head was spinning out of control.
Layla suppressed her laugh, "Cubbyholes... really Harry, how cute. You know what they remind me of instead?"
But Hermione never heard the rest of the conversation. Sleep took over; and the next time she woke up, she was in Harry and her bed back in their cozy apartment, with Harry's arms lightly wrapped around her.
The afternoon sunshine dazzled Hermione, and perched at their window was the morning owl, bearing a letter for her in its beak.
