Fear and Loathing
Arthur Weasley was the type of man who, when he entered a room, silently demanded the attention of everyone. He did not posses a totally striking appearance but everyone knew him to be someone with zero tolerance and who had the power to get what he needed, take what he wanted, and not care about who got in his way.
This was why when he walked into the Ministry of Magic, all eyes turned and everyone stopped what they were doing to acknowledge his presence.
"Good morning, Mr. Weasley." A short, stout man behind the security desk bowed his head slightly and then tipped his hat.
"How are you this morning, sir?" A young lady smiled softly and then quickly continued her walk down the hall.
Another man, who was just about to enter the first lift, stepped aside as Arthur approached. "All free," he said, gesturing to the lift.
Arthur stepped inside and nodded without saying a word. He didn't have to ever talk to anyone other than those he wanted to address and rarely responded to any of the hellos, waves and light conversational questions meant for him. A simple nod and a smile usually sufficed and anyone who expected even the tiniest bit more acknowledgements might as well have stood and waited for hell to freeze over – it may have happened quicker.
Once the lift closed, Arthur pressed the button for the Minister's floor and waited as it zoomed upwards and came to a halt a few seconds later.
"The Office of the Minister for Magic," the cool female voice in the lift said.
Arthur stepped out of the elevator and turned left. He had barely made five full steps when he heard someone call his name from behind him. He spun around, slightly unsure of who would be calling him and was therefore surprised to see Lucious Malfoy walking towards him.
"Hello, Arthur," Lucious said, nodding at him. "How are you this morning?"
"Fine, fine, Lucious," Arthur replied. Lucious Malfoy was one of the few people he would ever address personally. "And how are things for you? Everything alright with the wife?"
"Yes, yes, Narcissa's fine," Lucious replied, waving his hand gingerly. "A little restless at home but fine nonetheless. And how's your family doing, Arthur?"
Arthur remained unmoved. Although the memory of Bill's death came flooding to his mind, he replied, "Everything's fine," without so much as a slight hesitation.
"That's good to hear," Lucious replied. "I'm sorry about your loss, though. It's so tragic; very tragic indeed."
"Yes it was, but life goes on and I'm sure the madman behind it will be caught shortly." Arthur kept his voice steady. "How did you hear about it, though?"
"Come now, Arthur," Lucious said. Smiling a mischievous smile, he continued, "As head of the Department of Law Enforcement, I hear everything first hand and know things that no one else does. I heard about the tragic event not too long ago and was gravely shocked to hear that a werewolf had been so vile as to commit murder on your grounds."
"Yes, well, Greyback will be at my and the mercy of the Ministry very soon." Arthur made to step away but Lucious kept talking.
"Greyback...?" Lucious said, surprise in his voice. "I know he's vicious but surely he's not brainless enough to put himself in such danger as attacking a Weasley?"
Arthur did not respond; his attention had been drawn elsewhere. The lift that was a few feet away from them had clattered open and a fairly tall man exited. He was slightly fair-skinned with untidy black hair and black, circular glasses covering his eyes. He turned left, towards Lucious and Arthur and stopped when he saw them, his eyes catching Arthur's almost immediately.
"Good day, gentleman," James Potter said, addressing Lucious more so than Arthur.
"Ah, James," Lucious said, looking at him. "I was just consoling Arthur here on the death of his son."
James nodded and then said, "And here I was wondering why Arthur felt the Ministry needed his presence today."
"I'm here to discuss important matters with the Minister," Arthur replied firmly. "None of which concerns you," he added condescendingly.
James Potter stared at Arthur Weasley, contempt reading clearly on his face. The feeling of loathing and firm hatred was mutual and both men continued to look at one another, each ready for if the other made any sudden motions. Lucious, noticing the rise in the tension level, immediately spoke up.
"Come now, gentleman," he said, gripping James' shoulder. "Why such animosity?"
But neither man said anything.
"Mr. Malfoy, there's an urgent message for you." A short, plump woman came jogging towards them as fast as she could. She stopped a few feet away from where the three men stood staring at one another. "They say it's an emergency."
Lucious nodded towards her and let go of James' shoulder. He departed after saying, "Good-bye, gentleman."
"I'm sorry to hear about your son," James said in monotone after Lucious had disappeared into the lift.
"I'm sure you are," Arthur said, a little more passion in his tone.
"Guess that's another one dropped from the Weasley ranks," James said. He couldn't help but give a spiteful smile. "What's that? Two now?"
"The matters of my house or my family do not concern you, Potter." Arthur gripped his coat tighter over the spot where his wand lay. "And I'm sure whoever is responsible for my son's death will be punished-" He paused and gave James a warning look before adding, "severely."
"Well," James started, "I hope you find the culprit then."
"I may have already." Arthur looked James up and down and then turned on his heel before continuing his way towards the Minister's office.
"Is that finger-pointing I sense, Arthur?" James asked as he watched Arthur retreat. "Because if it is, I could have you incarcerated quite easily for threatening me."
"It's not a threat is it now, James?" Arthur asked as-a-matter-of-factly. He walked back towards James and stepped so close to him that his breath rattled the few strands of hair that lay over James' forehead. "If I find that you have anything to do with my son's murder, this war will be the last thing you ever take part in. That my man is a promise."
"I have no hand to play in your son's murder," James said, standing firm. "But I wish I knew who did so I could congratulate them for ridding the world of such evil."
James sensed it coming and therefore managed to yell "Protego!"just in time to block the nonverbal spell that Arthur had flung his way. Bouncing off of the invisible barrier, Arthur's spell hit a far wall and it exploded, shaking the ground and sending a few pieces of rock and debris flying. The quake did not stir either man, however. They stood staring at each other, ignoring the sounds of running footsteps from both ends of the hall.
"This isn't over, Potter."
"Oh, I know. It's only the beginning."
Arthur watched as James turned and headed back into the lift, abandoning whatever job he had come down to do. For the first time in twenty years of fighting, James' words shook him. "It's only the beginning" were a slight variant of the words that had been burned into Molly's skin after she was killed. His heart rate sped up and he turned, pushing past the witches and wizards who had come to see what the explosion was all about.
James Potter had pretty much confessed his dealings in Molly Weasley's death and done it so backhandedly that Arthur was ready to kill him right there and then. But he couldn't. He had to seek him out. He had to lure him into a false sense of security first. It was the perfect way to destroy an enemy. And when it was all over, then he'd go in for the kill and James Potter would be no more.
Hermione giggled as she watched Draco fumble to unlock the door of his apartment. She found it so cute that he got nervous around her and decided to put him out of his misery by using the Alohomora charm to unlock the door. The lock clicked and Draco breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door.
Hermione stepped inside and the lights flicked on to reveal a lavish yet quaint apartment. There were two comfortable, white sofas on either side of a glass coffee table. The table had one large vase in the center and a few smaller ones surrounding it, all containing an assortment of flowers. The walls were completely white and were covered in pictures of Draco. The floors were covered in white, fluffy carpeting that was spotless, as though no one had ever stepped foot on them.
"This is gorgeous," Hermione said, absorbing her surroundings. She made to move but Draco caught her arm.
"Ah ah," he said, pulling her back. "No one is allowed to walk on the carpet with shoes on."
Hermione blushed and then stripped her feet of her heels, inwardly grateful to remove them. She rested them neatly next to where Draco had deposited his shoes and followed him over to the larger of the two couches.
"Would you like something to drink?" Draco asked, unbuttoning his jacket and placing it over the back of the couch.
"Sure," Hermione answered, smiling as she watched him disappear into the kitchen.
As she listened to the clink of glasses, she looked around the room one more time and noticed a few more things. There was a very large vase situated in one corner of the room. Next to it was a small bureau with a mirror and a few more pictures. Being curious, Hermione walked over to the dresser and peered at the pictures. There were more photographs of Draco nestled closely together and a rectangular box was lying off to the side. She turned her head sideways in order to read the label better and saw that it said 'Draco Malfoy'.
"I figured some wine would be good for the mood," Draco said, walking back into the room. "What are you looking at?" he asked, noticing that Hermione was standing by the bureau.
"What's in this box?" she asked, taking a glass from him.
"Oh it's just old photos that I haven't had framed as yet," he replied, picking up the box. "I think some letters and stuff from family members are in here too."
He walked over to the couch and Hermione followed him, highly intrigued but she couldn't figure out why. She sat down next to him and placed her wine glass on the table.
"You should drink some," he said, looking at the glass. "It'll help relax you."
"Oh I'm not really nervous," Hermione replied, picking up a few photos out of the box. "And I'm not much of a drinker anyway. Aw you were so cute," she teased, showing him a picture of his younger self, waving at the camera.
"I'm still cute," he said, smiling at her. "You sure you don't want any of the wine?" he asked, picking up her glass and trying to give it to her.
She shook her head. "How old were you in this one?" She showed him a picture wherein he was attempting to throw a quaffle to someone off camera.
"I was three," he replied, looking at it quickly and pushing the wine glass in her face again. "Are you sure?"
"I guess I could have a sip. In a minute though," she said impatiently, as he had just tried to ram the glass to her lips. She started flipping through the pictures again. "I don't see any of you as a baby," she replied when she had gotten to the last one in the stack.
"There aren't any," he replied, placing the glass down on the table. "I don't think my parents took any of me before I was two."
"Why not?"
Draco shrugged. "They never told me, even though I asked on countless occasions."
Hermione nodded and then pulled the box towards her. She rummaged through the remaining pictures as Draco stood up and fiddled with the radio for a few moments. A soft piano sounded just as Hermione came across an envelope underneath the rubble of old photographs. It contained old school certificates and drawings he must have done when he was a toddler. Hermione also came across a birth certificate that, strangely enough, had not been filled out.
"How come this is blank?" Hermione asked, turning in the couch to face Draco who was standing behind her sipping his wine.
Draco looked at it. "I haven't gotten it filled out yet."
"Needed a new one or something?"
Draco shook his head and sat back down next to her. "I never had one. At least, my parent's said they never managed to get one when I was born and didn't try much after. So I figured I'd get one to have."
"That's strange," Hermione said, a little confounded. "Never came across someone who hasn't had a birth certificate."
Draco shrugged and said, "I'm no ordinary guy." He smiled at her and, once again, picked up her wine glass and tried to hand it to her. "Take a sip. It's really good."
Hermione smiled. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco returned her smile. "I feel that there is no right answer to that question."
Hermione shrugged. "Depends on how you answer it."
Draco resigned both glasses to the table and then turned back to Hermione. He moved closer to her and then caressed her cheek. He tipped her chin and then leaned in, resting his lips against hers. Hermione obliged and allowed herself to fall into the kiss. She could taste the sweetness of the wine on his lips and loved how soft they were against hers. His hand slipped to back of her neck and she rested one hand on his thigh and the other on his neck. The gestures drew them deeper into the kiss, the soft sound of a piano flooding their background.
Draco started to gently push her backwards, onto the cushions of the couch. Hermione held onto him as he did so and slid her hand up into his hair and her other hand found the crease of his back. Draco had just managed to get her fully down on the cushions when a persistent tapping sound drew their focus out of the kiss. They both looked up quickly and saw the figure of a brown owl barely visible in the darkness of the night.
"Who the bloody hell is trying to contact me now?" Draco stood up and walked over to the window. The owl extended his leg and Draco removed the letter but blinked twice when he read the cover. "It's for you."
"Me?" Hermione asked, sitting up and picking up the wine glass as Draco walked back over to the couch. "Are you sure?"
Draco handed her the envelope and sure enough Hermione was messily squiggled on the front of it. She opened it quickly and found one, concise line scribbled on a tiny piece of parchment.
Ginny is in St. Mungo's. We'll explain when you get here. Please hurry.
Hermione's heart raced and she crumpled the letter and envelope in her hand. Ginny was in St. Mungo's. What the hell could have happened? Disturbing thoughts raced through her mind as she continued to ponder the words. She had to get to the hospital now. Something could be seriously wrong with her. She could even be…
Hermione quickly silenced that pessimistic thought as she stood up suddenly. The wine glass was in her left hand and the letter was mashed in her shaking right hand.
"Er, I have to go," she said urgently. "There's an emergency with one of my friends and I have make sure she's alright."
"Ok, well," Draco started, standing up too, "at least have a sip of wine. It should calm your nerves."
Hermione shook her head and absentmindedly emptied the contents of the glass into the vase in the center of the coffee table before retreating to the spot where her shoes were. She scrambled to put them on and then stood up properly, walking the few remaining steps towards the front door.
"I'll have to talk to you later," she said, turning to Draco who had showed up behind her.
"Alright, then how about we meet up for drinks either tomorrow or the day after?" he pleaded, holding the door open as she stepped over the threshold.
"That would be -" But she broke off.
She had stared past him, back into the room to see the flowers on the coffee table withering slowly and then crumpling completely into the vase, which looked as though it was about to crack itself. Her heart started to beat even faster as she realized that it was the same vase she had discarded her wine into. She looked hastily back at Draco, hoping that he didn't realize what she had been staring at. It appeared he hadn't because he was still looking at her, obviously waiting on her answer.
"So, can we meet up?" he repeated.
"Er, I er," she stammered but quickly gained a steady voice. "I'm not sure. I'll see you later."
She turned quickly and walked as fast as she could down the hall, Apparating the minute she had gotten far enough. She wasn't sure what had happened but fear had risen inside of her as she realized that Draco had just tried adamantly to poison her. She was suddenly grateful for her mother's relentless lectures about alcohol consumption and was just as appreciative of the fact that she usually listened to her mother.
But her thoughts quickly changed as she appeared in front of the entrance to St. Mungo's. She was suddenly more afraid of what could be wrong with Ginny and, as she passed through the glass and appeared at the other side into the lobby of the hospital, her eyes began to fill with tears of worry and fear.