Chapter seven
Who are You, Really?
"You see, you closed your eyes. That was the difference. Sometimes you cannot believe what you see, you have to believe what you feel. And if you are ever going to have other people trust you, you must feel that you can trust them, too-even when you're in the dark. Even when you're falling."
- Mitch Albom
The soft pitter patter of raindrops falling against the bay window morphed into a deafening roar within a few minutes. Draco barely looked up from the spot on the wall he had been staring at for the past two hours. The rain was providing the perfect white noise to quiet his already overactive brain. He was going to embark on one of the craziest missions he had ever agreed to do. He also felt that the weather was a fitting welcome home gift.
England had always been his home, but he was happy to get away from the rain and gloom of the country for a short time. It did nothing but remind him of what he had transpired over the last year. He wouldn't miss the danger of potentially getting sunburn every day when he was in Australia, though he did miss the lack of monotony. Draco looked away from the spot on the wall, to the downpour outside and then finally to the woman currently bent over the coffee table. He didn't know what to make of her suggestion of wanting to go back to England to start their mission, but he followed her back anyway.
So there he sat in one of the comfy chairs in his den as she looked over the same files again and again. He was sure she had them memorized by now. Hell, he had them memorized by now. Ever since he had come back into the lobby and told her that he would take her up on her offer, she had been talking non-stop about what they needed to do first.
"We have to go after Crabbe Sr. first," Hermione suggested without looking up.
"Why?" Draco questioned in a bored tone.
She looked up from the coffee table and right into Draco's eyes. "He lost his son, an old friend of yours. Wouldn't you think that he would want to avenge Vincent's death?"
Draco quietly stared at her. Of course she would remember that Crabbe was dead. She was there after all. He tried not to think about Crabbe's death, but it haunted him. He would wake from nightmares, a scream tearing from his throat and a cold sweat to accompany it. For several moments afterwards, he could feel the extreme heat from the flames and still see the image of his friend's face twisting in shock and fear as he plummeted to his death.
"You could be right. He could also be so miserable that he's drinking himself to death in Knockturn Alley because he lost his only son."
Hermione looked away from Draco and back at the file of Crabbe Sr. "It sounds like you actually know. Should we see how many of your old associates are hanging around then?"
"They all know that I'm a turncoat," Draco said, swinging his long legs off of the arm of the chair and down to the floor. "The Prophet made sure the whole Wizarding world knew that."
"As they should have. I always thought you were an insufferable git, but I never thought you were evil," Hermione confessed.
They were both quiet for a beat before Hermione rushed to fill the silence. "I'm guessing you didn't do well in Transfiguration, did you?"
"I don't appreciate your swotty assumptions, Granger. I knew you had a mouth on you, but this is just getting ridiculous," Draco sniped trying to get them back on familiar footing. "For your information, I did do well in Transfiguration. It isn't my fault that you were too busy keeping your nose in your books to notice anything or anyone else."
"I noticed plenty of things, Draco. I believe you were, and still are, the narcissist."
"It isn't my fault that I was interesting with dashing good looks. Maybe if girls stopped telling me those things, I wouldn't have believed them."
"Listen, we can trade barbs all day long, but it won't get us anywhere."
Hermione stood straight, cracking her lower back as she did. She grabbed her wand out of her hair, letting her thick mane fall past her shoulders and walked towards the full length mirror by the front door.
Hermione stared at herself for a long minute before she placed her wand tip on her forehead. Her normally oval face was transfigured into something more narrow―a wide forehead and a weak, pointed chin. Her new cheekbones were high, proud and delicate, just like the rest of her face. She closed her eyes and tapped each eyelid. Her normal wide-round eyes were now hooded. Once she opened them again, her amber-colored eyes were now a brilliant emerald green. Hermione moved her wand tip to her nose. Her celestial-shaped nose was turned into an aquiline shape. Lastly, she tapped the top of her head and her hair turned from unruly curls to soft, red ones. Draco wondered if she was borrowing traits from both Potter and Weasley. He shuddered at the thought that Hermione could possible look like their lovechild. Once she was done, Draco barely recognized her. She was someone he had been trained to court, but she wasn't Hermione anymore. All the years he wished that she would be someone else, he didn't know how to feel now that she actually looked different.
She walked away from the mirror and perched on the arm of a chair. "Your turn."
Draco got up from his seat and walked over to the mirror. He went through the same process as Hermione did. When he was done, his famous pointed chin was squared off and strong. His normal arctic grey eyes were dark, almost black. He thought about making them the same shade as Hermione's but he knew that he could never do the color justice. His nose was no longer elegant and a perfect fit for his face, but now strong and Roman. As an added gesture he grew a handlebar mustache. He shortened his hair and changed the color to a low key honey blonde, like his mother's hair. Hermione gave him a funny look when he turned around.
"Before you judge me, a lot of Pureblood men grow mustaches."
"This is the first time I've ever seen such a thing. I admit it goes with your new facial features, but don't ever grow one when your face is back to normal, okay?"
"I would never mar my face with something as ridiculous as a mustache. You don't have to worry about that, Granger."
"I wasn't worried. You're too much of a narcissist to do something like that to yourself." With that, she hopped off of the chair and headed for the door. She put on her cloak and opened the door. With one last look back at Draco, her green eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement and possibly mischief. She turned and walked out of the door ready to start their mission. Draco hurriedly grabbed his cloak before following her.
Walking down the cobbled streets of Knockturn Alley, Draco noticed that it had not changed since he was a boy. War had not altered the atmosphere in the slightest. It felt just as sinister and secretive as it had before. He slowed his pace down and reached out for Hermione. She turned her head to the left and looked up at him with her strange new eyes. He almost forgot who he was staring down at, but mentally shook himself―that was the point of this.
He reached for her left hand and brought it up to the crook of his arm. If they were going to make look as authentic as possible, they had to play the part of the perfect Pureblood couple. She furrowed her brow at him before it dawned on her what he was doing. She relaxed a tiny bit before they started walking again.
The sign for the Starry Prophesier was up ahead. Draco remembered the times that Lucius had brought him there. It was one of the nicer establishments where he met his associates. Draco used to go there to meet with those he commanded when he was the Dark Lord's lackey. He figured that if Crabbe Sr. would be anywhere to drink himself into a coma, it would be there.
Draco opened the door and left Hermione walk in first. He watched as she looked around at the establishment with a bored look on her face. Draco silently congratulated her on her quick adaptation to Pureblood life. Once he was inside, he took her hand again and placed it back on the crook of his arm. They both walked up over to a booth and took their seats. Within a few minutes, the barmaid walked over to help them.
"Good afternoon, sir, madam. What can I get you?"
"Before we order anything, I need some information," Draco started. He slyly slid a bulging bag of galleons across the table for the women. Her large eyes grew even wider. She reached for the bag, but Draco quickly slid it back. "You will get this once you can tell me some things."
She bobbed her head up and down to show she understood.
"Now, I need to know if a gentleman by the name of Vincent Crabbe has ever been in your establishment."
The barmaid thought about it for a moment. "He goes by other names usually. I know how the Aurors are looking for him. He's here now."
"Where is he sitting?"
"If you walk past the bar, he's sitting at the table in the corner."
Draco looked over at Hermione and she nodded her head. She stood and slowly made her way around the corner. She hadn't seen someone look so desolate and unkempt except when she met Sirius for the first time. Steeling herself, Hermione took in a deep breath and walked towards him.
He didn't looked up when she sat down at his table. She cleared her throat a few times until he looked up from his mug.
"Who are you?" He asked in a raspy voice.
"That isn't important. What is important is that you answer any questions I ask you, understood?"
"And why should I?" Crabbe asked, sitting back so that Hermione could get a good look at him.
She almost gasped out loud. A large scar adorned his face from his left eye down to his chin. Hermione wondered how he got the scar, but pushed the bubbling question in the back of her mind.
"You should answer my questions because I could easily tell the Aurors exactly where you are right now."
"I'm not afraid to go to jail, miss. If that is the only threat you have, then you can leave."
"No, that isn't the only threat she has, Mr. Crabbe," Draco said, announcing his presence to both Hermione and Crabbe.
Crabbe looked behind where Hermione was sitting and narrowed his eyes at Draco.
"Then what other threat does she have then, Mr…?"
"Bellard. I know what you need and that's protection. You say you aren't afraid of going to prison, but I happen to think that's all a ruse. I'm fairly good at figuring out if someone is lying or not."
Crabbe raised an eyebrow at him. "What makes you think that I need protection?"
"Because they're still after you―both sides. Now, do you want our help or not?"
"How do I know that you'll actually do what you say? How can I trust you?"
Draco smirked. "You don't. You don't know a thing about me, but I will promise you one thing, I am a man of my word."
Crabbe downed his drink and slammed the mug back down on the table. "What do you need to know?"
"Where is Bellatrix?"
"That is a very loaded question, Mr. Bellard."
"We understand that, Mr. Crabbe, but we will take any lead you can give us," Hermione butted in.
"Why do you want to find her so badly? Are you trying to destroy her too? If so, that is very ambitious and very foolish."
"What we want with her is none of your concern. What do you know?" Hermione asked impatiently.
"I heard that Nott might know something. He's old school and if there is any chance of finding out a bit of news, he would be your best bet."
"Thank you, Crabbe. I will be in contact to get you protection," Draco said.
Hermione got up and followed behind Draco. Once they were out of the pub and back in the Leaky Cauldron, they Floo'd back to Draco's house.
"Will you really protect him, Draco?" Hermione questioned as she started changing her face back.
"I don't know. He did give us information, but it all depends if it is useful or not."
"How are we going to contact Nott?"
"I'll have to find Theo."
