Disclaimer: Nothing of JK's is mine. Obviously.
Author's Note:
I know. It has been forever and a day. But I got a review out of the blue a couple days ago and it really put the fire under my butt to get something out. So I still stand by what I said; I WILL finish this story. Even if it takes another two years (but hopefully it won't). Thank you to everyone who has been reading my story. It's amazing to me that anybody is still interested in it. You guys are awesome.
Happy reading,
Mikey
Hermione could not get to work fast enough. Not only was this exactly the type of excitement and challenge she had been waiting for, but she also felt deeply attached to these women for reasons unknown to her. She wanted nothing more than their rescue and she was fully prepared to do whatever it would take for their safe return. Upon re-entering the Ministry she went immediately to her temporary office, brushing past Harry without a word. The door closed behind her on its own accord as she sat down gingerly behind the desk. She paused just long enough to take one long, deep breath. The first thing to take care of was the victims' magical status. She enlarged her briefcase with a tap from her wand and extracted the case files. She scanned several documents until she found what she was looking for. Taking a spare bit of parchment and quill from Acer's desk, she hastily scribbled down four four-digit numbers and got up.
Swiftly, Hermione made her way through the labyrinth of cubicles and was jabbing the button for the lift before she had come to a complete stop. The lift seemed to be moving slower than usual in her anxiousness. Hermione tapped her foot impatiently while she waited. When the grates slid open she was on before anyone could step off. Ignoring the glares she was receiving she snaked her arm through several people to press the button for the first floor. With superhuman effort she managed to stop her foot tapping as she waited. But when the lift reached the top floor she all but propelled herself off, nearly crushing a timid looking witch in front of her. Hermione called a hurried apology over her shoulder as she turned the corner. She mentally chided herself. Her manners weren't normally so boorish but she didn't have the time nor patience for pleasantries at the moment.
She vaguely remembered back in her office that there was a classified archive somewhere on the top floor. What she couldn't remember was ever being told its exact location, or how to get in once she found it. So instead of wandering around aimlessly, she decided to get the assistance, rather the authority, that she needed. She moved purposely down the hall and barely knocked before grabbing the handles of the large elegant doors that lead to the Minister's office. She smiled to find the doors unlocked and Kingsley Shacklebolt working diligently behind his enormous desk. He looked up at her in surprise.
"Why, hello Ms. Granger."
Hermione nodded amiably. "Hello Minister." She looked around his desk. There were several neat stacks of paper piled on it. "You appear to be busy, so I'll get straight to the point. I need to get into the archives."
Kingsley regarded her for a moment before returning to his work. "I wasn't aware there were archives in this building that you haven't been in," he said jokingly, in his deep calming voice.
"Only the ones hidden somewhere on this floor," Hermione said smiling sweetly.
He put his quill down as his dark eyebrows went up. "Well... I'm only slightly surprised that you know about the classified archives. However, Hermione, there are a large amount of procedures we must go through before I can let you in there."
Hermione did not looked fazed. "Like what?"
"You need to submit a proposal summarizing your research, then after we have reviewed your case there are security checks like you wouldn't believe. If all of that's approved, then there is still the matter of debriefing and procedures. It may be several days before you can conduct any research at all."
She brushed at a piece of non-existent lint on her shoulder and gave him a bored look. "Well, I don't have several days, Kingsley. I have right now. I need you to let me in the archives."
"Right now?" Kingsley asked incredulously. "I can't just let you in."
"Yes, you can."
Kingsley locked eyes with her and said, "Hermione."
She looked defiantly back at him. "Kingsley?"
They stared at each other for several moments until Hermione raised her hand and tapped the imaginary wristwatch there. Kingsley rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine, Hermione... Fine." He got up and unlocked a drawer of one of the many filing cabinets in the room. He removed a small business card-sized piece of paper and touched the tip of his wand to it, mumbling something under his breath. "Here," he said, finally turning back to her. "Follow the instructions on this very carefully."
"Thank you," Hermione said placing it in her pocket without looking at it. She tried and failed not to look smug, she couldn't help it. Kingsley crossed his arms and shook his head as he watched her.
"You, and Harry, for that matter, are absolutely ridiculous. How is it that you always manage to get someone to break the rules for you?"
Hermione chuckled. "Years and years of practice."
He smiled despite himself. "I'm curious to know exactly what you're looking for."
"I promise you it's nothing extreme. Just fact checking for a case."
Kingsley looked skeptical. He opened his mouth, but then seemed to change his mind. Instead he sat back down behind his desk. "It's probably best I don't know what you're up to. The less I know, the less I can be held accountable for," he said looking at her knowingly.
"Fair enough, Minister," she said smirking. She closed the doors behind her as she left.
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. That was easier than she imagined. She had expected to have to do a lot more smooth talking before she got her way. She mentally patted herself on her back before refocusing on the task at hand. She turned the paper Kingsley gave her over in her hands. She looked briefly up and down the hallway and then began to examine it. She read:
Wash your hands. Tell yourself you know what you're looking for.
Hermione screwed up her eyebrows. She didn't know what to do with that. She continued to study the card. Underneath the writing there were four identical rectangles, the long sides vertical. In the third from the left there was a circle. Hermione stared at this for some time. She had no idea what this meant. She looked momentarily at the door behind her and was tempted to go back in and make Kingsley explain things to her. But she thought better of it. She figured this was one of those things she had to figure out for herself. She cursed under her breath. Why everything in the magical world had to be a riddle was beyond her. She referenced the paper again. Wash your hands. She didn't know what this had to do with anything either but she could at least do that much. Kingsley and his undersecretaries each had a private restroom in their massive offices so she knew that the lavatory at the far end of the hall went largely unused. She decided to take advantage of this. It was probably best that she removed herself from the hallway regardless, lest she attract unwanted attention.
Hermione opened the door labeled "Witches" cautiously. Inside, the lavatory was pristine and perfect, much like everything on the top floor. Beautiful white marble floors and everything with golden fixtures. There were four stalls and in front of each a marble sink with a large, immaculate mirror behind it. Hermione rolled her eyes. She had never been a fan of extravagance. She walked immediately to the first sink and propped the instructions up against the mirror. She figured she might as well start with the obvious, so she turned on the faucet. She rubbed her hands together under the cool water thinking to herself for a few moments. Nothing happened. She tried again, adding some soap to the mix this time. She waited several heartbeats. Still nothing. Hermione hastily dried her hands on her clothes and perused the instructions again. She stared at the rectangles for a long moment and then took a few steps back from the sink. Now that she was able to see the entire room she saw it. Four sinks. Four large mirrors. Four large, rectangular mirrors. Hermione's eyes grew wide and she rushed back to the sink picking up the card. She held it up in front of her then looked at the mirrors, then back at the card. The circle was in the third rectangle. Hermione moved to stand in front of the third sink and washed her hands again. She shut her eyes tight in concentration thinking "I know what I'm looking for," and scrubbed harder, but to no avail. Hermione let out a frustrated growl and turned off the tap angrily. She was sure that would have worked. She placed both hands on the sides of the sink and looked at herself in the mirror.
"This is stupid," she muttered to herself. She studied the wrinkles over her nose and the lines in her forehead until they disappeared.
Then Hermione looked at herself curiously in the mirror. She tilted her head to one side, then the other. She looked at the door behind her and locked it. She applied a muffliato charm to the room then turned back to her reflection. She stared at herself curiously. "I... I know what I'm looking for."
Her reflection scoffed. "Do you?"
Hermione bit back a yelp of surprise. Somethings in the magical world would never fail to catch her off guard. "Um... yes," she replied.
Mirror-Hermione reached out her hand. "Give it here then."
"Give what here?" she asked puzzled.
"Merlin, Hermione. The card, obviously. Hand it to me."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at herself. "Hmm... I really am insufferable." Her reflection gave her a familiar smile: amused, with just a hint of smugness. Hermione stretched the card bearing hand towards the mirror. She had expected the card to be pressed up against the glass, but instead her hand went steadily through the seemingly solid mirror and into the realm of Mirror-Hermione. The real Hermione gasped as the double put one hand around her wrist and took the paper from her with the other. She examined it for a moment and then looked up at her.
"Everything checks out," Mirror-Hermione said. Then without further warning, she yanked Hermione's arm, pulling her through the mirror.
Instead of landing in a bathroom identical to the one she had been standing in, she was now inside of an enormous room.
In the middle of the space were three marble-topped tables with golden clawed legs. On each table was a single candle hovering over the surface. The flame danced back and forth on its burning wick, but the wax did not drip. Hermione gaped as she set her briefcase down on one of the tables and looked around. The place was filled to bursting with documents of ever sort. There seemed to be millions of books, scrolls and files, each packed tightly into bookcases, shelves, cabinets, crates and boxes that stretched up high to the vaulted ceiling. The amount of information in the room was overwhelming.
Hermione scanned the titles and labels of the nearest tomes and folders. Her stomach sank. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the order at all. Marriage records, financial institutions, criminal reports, missing peoples, legislations, licenses, birth records, everything, for every year and place, all shuffled and mixed together in a way so random that it was surely ordered that way on purpose. She took a step back, inhaling deeply as she did so. She was not defeated yet. She was a witch after all.
"Accio Hogwarts prospective student registry," she said determinedly. But that did her no good. A page didn't so much as turn in the entire room. She had to admit, she would have been disappointed had it worked. It wouldn't do well to have important information obtainable by a simple fourth-year level summoning spell. Although she was pleased to find that the Ministry finally seemed to have some security measures in place she could still feel something like panic raising in her chest. That meant she would have to get what she needed the muggle way. She randomly selected a volume from a shelf. Just skimming through she saw that it was an effort in futility. It held information on selected Ministry employees appointed in June of every third leap year, divorce records from the years 1941-1943 of Port Moresby, New Guinea, and magical charitable organizations of the last 10 years starting with the letters "Mi" and "Wr." Hermione forced the bound records back into its tight space on the shelf and sighed. If every other book was organized in such a nonsensical fashion there was no earthly way she would be able to search through these archives and find what she was looking for. It could take months, maybe even years to gather the information if she had to systematically comb through the archives for what she needed. She needed help. Lives were at stake. Hermione went to rake her hands through her hair when she noticed she was still holding on to the card. She was about to examine it again, hoping to glean some new perspective on her situation when she froze, her hands still on her head. Her heart began to hammer violently against her ribcage when she felt an unfamiliar pressure, although she knew instinctively what it was. There wasn't a sane witch or wizard alive that could mistake the feel of a wand tip pressed against the back of their neck.
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing here?" A voice said behind her.
Hermione's eyebrow arched on its own accord. It was the voice of an old man. He seemed feeble and crotchety. She could have laughed but she didn't. Old age was no indication that he was not a threat. Hermione kept her wits about her. There was no way she could reach for her wand without getting blasted away. So she responded casually, although she was anything but. "I have the expressed permission of the Minister to be here... Can you say the say same?"
"Why, of course I can. I'm the Archiver. I–" He stopped, snatching the card from her still raised hand. There was a brief pause while he examined it and then yelled at the top of his lungs.
Hermione couldn't help but jump. His wand was still pressed into the back of her neck. "What?" she yelled back cringing.
He lowered his wand and bellowed. "Why the devil didn't you summon me straightaway? I could have killed you, you silly girl!"
Hermione narrowed her eyes. If there was anything Hermione absolutely hated being called it was "silly girl." Worse than "mudblood" which was a derogatory word for a much larger group, "silly girl" was an insult that seemed to speak directly to her, mocking her age, gender, and intelligence. Three things she had always been very proud of. Ignoring any possible danger she turned around bridled. "Summon you? I don't even know who you–" She cut herself short now that she could finally see the man. He was, as she had guessed extremely old. Ancient even. He wore brilliant turquoise robes with shiny gold stars that twinkled periodically. His pale blue eyes were magnified several times over by thick eye glasses and they looked absolutely livid. His skin fit his body like a loose garment, hanging awkwardly and in strange places. And underneath his skin, you could see vivid outlines of nearly all his thin bones. He appeared as if one good shake would collapse him completely.
The Archiver stomped his feet, regaining her attention. "The card! Why didn't you summon me with the card?" he yelled as he shoved it in Hermione's face.
She leaned back so she could read it. A single eyebrow rose. The rectangles were gone and the writing had changed. It now read, The Archiver on one side, and Turn Three Times on the other.
"Hmm... I hadn't bothered to look at it again."
"Well, isn't that always the way..." The Archiver mumbled. He took a deep breath and studied her. "You weren't actually trying to find something in here by yourself, were you?"
Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I was... " she said slowly. "I just had no idea it would be this difficult to locate some very basic information. There seems to be no logical order at all."
"Why of course there is. It's a very sophisticated system. I devised it, well, reorganized it, myself. Years and years ago, before you were even thought of. Everything is where it should be. It all makes sense up here." He touched his index finger to his temple. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."
Hermione chose to ignore his quip and asked, "How did you ever decide on an order? It seems so random..."
"It is random. But then, it is not. I change the order of these archives every day, yet I know exactly where everything is," he said running a thin hand over the spine of a book.
She looked around the room in awe. "Every day? That's amazing!" she said appreciatively.
The Archiver shuffled his feet a bit. He seemed to hear the sincerity in Hermione's words because he looked down on the floor and then up at her some what shyly and hurrumphed. "So what is it that you need help finding?"
Hermione smiled and dug into her pocket procuring a list. "I need the registry of Hogwarts prospective students," she said slowly while she scanned the parchment, "for the years 1979 and 1981 through 1983."
He repeated the numbers to himself once under his breath before taking off at a speed very surprising for his age. There was no hesitation in his step as he walked to the other side of the room, rolling with him a tall ladder. In swift movements he was up the rungs and grasping a large volume from the shelf. Upon removing the book he held it out at arm's length (Hermione was amazed that he could manage this at all) and let it drop from his sure fingers. She expected to hear a mighty thud as the book hit the floor but there was none. Hermione watched as the book floated casually to the table where she had laid her things. When she turned around the Archiver was on the opposite side of the room securing the lid on a box, a thick file of papers already floating in her direction.
Moments later Hermione was sitting at the table going through the information the Archiver had produced for her. And as she had expected, each one of the women were muggle-borns that had been offered admission to Hogwarts, but their parents had declined. She was not surprised. However this did confirm a theory she had, until this moment, not wanted to consider. The disappearances of these women and the person spying on her had to be the same, if not related. It was just too big of a coincidence that muggle-born women around her age would disappear the same time that she was being watched. But this new information got her no where. She was no closer to discovering who was responsible than she had been before and she had no idea where to go next. She sighed and picked up her materials as she got up. As she walked through the maze of information she noticed a stack of folders sitting haphazardly on a rolling cart. The Archiver appeared out of no where, catching Hermione off guard.
"Finished?" he asked.
Hermione jumped. "Yes, here." She handed the stack to him. "Thank you." He gave her a curt nod and made to walk away when she spoke again.
"Not that anything seems to have a sensible home in here," she said walking to the cart she had noticed before, "but these seem to be particularly out of place... Why is that?"
"Those need to be re-shelved or put away."
She raised an eyebrow. "How often do you usually have people in here?"
"Not very often at all. Only a few people know of the place to come find it and even fewer actually have the clearance to use it."
"Interesting... Do you mind?" she asked motioning to the stacks of paper.
He shrugged. "You're already here."
Hermione unrolled one of the parchments laying at random on the cart. It was a list of suspected Death Eaters and conspirators that were never convicted. Her eyes narrowed as she read the names. Some names she recognized and was surprised to see, others she had never heard of. There were a few that looked familiar, but she couldn't be sure if she had ever seen or heard of them. Next to each name was what information they had on the suspect. Spouse's name, place and date of birth, profession, and their most recent home address, if known at all. She wondered who would have been interested in this information. It had been over seven years since Voldemort's defeat and there was hardly anybody worried about Death Eater activity anymore. If there was any sort of investigation going on Hermione knew that Harry would have been at the head of it, and that he would have also included her. She found it very odd that someone was casually digging this information up.
"Are you always in here?" she called out.
"I keep certain hours, but yes," the Archiver returned from behind several rows of shelves.
"Then you must have seen whoever it was that was going through these," she pressed.
"Yes. But I'm not at liberty to discuss who comes and goes in here."
"Oh, really? And why is that?"
"Would you be comfortable with me discussing your business with just anyone who asked about it?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "No. Not just anyone."
"Exactly. Of course, if you could provide justification for your inquiry and go through proper channels I'd be happy to help you."
"I can't imagine the 'proper channels' are too convenient," Hermione said under her breath.
"Excuse me?"
"Don't worry. I have more important things to focus on at the moment anyway. I should be leaving now." Hermione looked around the room and paused. "How exactly do I leave anyway?"
"The card," she heard him mumble somewhere in the distance.
"Oh, right," she said, digging again in her pocket. She read the card again. The script had changed to "Did you find what you were looking for?" Hermione scoffed to herself. "Yes, that and several other questions that need to be answered... But how do I get-"
But she never finished her sentence because she found herself falling head first out of the third mirror in the bathroom on the top floor. "Impedimenta!" she gasped just in time as she fell. She stopped mid-air before she cracked her skull on the marble floor. "That can not be the proper way to exit," she mumbled as righted herself.
"Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you," Harry said holding up a folded piece of parchment when Hermione rounded the corner.
Harry fell into step with her and followed her back to her office. She placed her things on her desk and took a deep breath before addressing him. "Sorry, Harry. I've been getting some research done. What's that?" she asked, motioning to the paper in his hand.
"It's from Draco. I didn't open it," he said placing it on the desk. "But what did you come up with?"
"Nothing that I hadn't already guessed. The women are all muggleborn witches. Somebody has it out for us," she said almost to herself, unfolding the message. She clapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh flog me," she said. "Dinner with Eridanus. I completely forgot!"
"Eridanus?"
"Draco's cousin. Long story," she added before he could ask. "Wait a moment, he says Eridanus had to cancel. Wonderful, I would have felt dreadful knowing I stood them up." She looked at the clock on the wall. It was a quarter til ten. No sense rushing home at this point; she was already late. She bit her lip thinking as a thought suddenly occurred to her. "Hey, Harry," she said.
"Yes?"
"Have you thought about our other situation?" He looked at her nonplussed. "My situation?" she clarified.
"No. I haven't come up with anything new..." Harry said slowly.
"So you haven't you put two and two together yet? Haven't you considered the fact that whoever is after these muggleborn women is probably after-"
"Hermione, please. Let's not jump to that."
"Let's not jump to what, Harry? To the logical conclusion? These are related, I feel it Harry," she said earnestly. "Whoever abducted these women is after me too. They made sure that I was muggleborn by digging up dirt on me and it's only a matter of time before they come after me too."
"You don't know that," Harry said, shaking his head slightly more like he was trying to convince himself rather than Hermione.
She gave him a bored stare.
Harry put his face in hands, looking tortured. "What do you want me to do Hermione? I don't know who is doing this. I don't know why they're doing this. And more importantly, I don't know how to stop them from coming after you too."
She looked at him for a long time, not really seeing him. Someone probably was coming after her. But was that really a bad thing? If they had no other leads, no other way of finding this person, wouldn't it be easier to have this person come to them? Possibly at a place of their own choosing, where they had the advantage? It only made sense. Hermione took a deep breath, her mind made up. She got up off the edge of her desk where she had been perched and sat down next to Harry. She thought carefully about what she was going to say and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry..." She waited until he looked up at her to continue. "The last thing I want to do is stop this person from coming after me."
That got his attention. It took approximately two seconds for Harry to blow up, as she knew he would. "Absolutely not!" he yelled jumping up from his seat. Hermione saw the few late-working Aurors peeking over their tiny cubicles and cast a silencing charm on the room.
"Do calm down, Harry. You're being ridiculous."
"I'm being ridiculous?" he bellowed. "Y-you're being ridiculous! You're the one that's thinking up some half-assed scheme using yourself as bait!"
"It's not half-assed. What a crude term," she added. "I haven't formulated a plan yet, but I know that taking advantage of the situation will help us find these women. We have to use whatever methods we have."
"They could already be dead. Why would I risk your life in addition to theirs?"
"You don't believe that they're dead Harry," she said quietly.
"No, I don't," he sighed. "If they were I believe we would have had more to go off. Death is easier to trace."
"So then we should go ahead with the plan."
"What plan? Throwing you to this monster and hoping we catch him in the act is not a plan. It's reckless and it's stupid. You're no help to anyone if you disappear as well."
"But what other options do we have, Harry? If you have any ideas, please. Enlighten me."
Harry responded with an aggravated growl. He shoved his hands in his hair.
"That's what I thought," Hermione said smugly, opening a folder to re-read some reports.
"If you think for one second that I've agreed to purposefully putting your life in danger, you are sorely mistaken."
"Harry-"
"Drop it, Hermione," Harry said with a tone of finality she couldn't ignore. "It's late. I'm going home to my wife," he said slowly. "and my son. And you..." He shook his head and smiled humorlessly. "I can't believe that you would even consider this. Maybe a few months ago I wouldn't have been surprised. But now? Think about what it would do to him, Hermione. It's terribly selfish of you." He looked at her meaningfully. She didn't need for him to say the name to know exactly who he was talking about. She stared at him as the truth of his words sunk in. "Go home, Hermione. Now. We'll talk about what weare all going to do next tomorrow." He started to leave but then turned around. He leaned over and placed a kiss on the top of her head. Hermione closed her eyes at his touch. "Goodnight, Hermione."
"Goodnight, Harry," she said softly. He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze and walked out.
Hermione let out a low whistle when the door closed. She had by no means given up on her idea, in fact she fully intended on developing it further before she saw him again tomorrow. But she did have to worry about something she had until this time tried painstakingly to keep out of her work-related decisions. Draco would most definitely have a problem with whatever put her in danger, and she knew he was going to fight her, as well as anybody else who went along with it, on the issue. But her mind was made up. If Harry had stuck around long enough she would have argued that he had put his life in danger several times to save others, and would do it again. Hermione felt that whatever sacrifice Harry was allowed to make she could make also. Lives, other than her own, were at stake. As she gathered up her things she wondered who she could enlist for help if (and most likely when) Harry refused. She allowed herself a small smile, glad that she was the new second, if only temporarily. Her new position came with its perks. She could organize a team confidentially, if need be, and there really wasn't much Harry could do to stop her. Not that this was a new occurrence.
"No one stops Hermione Granger from doing anything," she said to the empty room before leaving.
Draco cast another heating spell on the spaghetti and garlic bread as he sat at the table alone. He looked at the candles moodily as their flames danced, casting shadows on the table. He figured he would make a romantic dinner out of the evening since Eridanus had canceled but now he was starting to feel stupid for it. Hermione was way past late and she hadn't even bothered to respond to the owl he sent her. He picked up his plate and glass of wine, deciding to eat his solitary meal in front of the television when he heard a knock, rather, several rapid knocks, on the door.
"Draco?" he heard Eridanus call before the knocking continued. Draco quickly crossed the living room to the foyer, placing his dinner on the coffee table. He had his wand raised when he opened the door.
"Eridanus?" Draco said as the person in question squeezed through the doorway past him, not waiting to be invited in. He carried something lumpy over his shoulder but Draco couldn't tell what since it was covered in a spare robe. He glanced at Eridanus' retreating figure once more before peering out the door, looking for some sign of danger. When he found none he closed it sharply, locking it both the muggle and magical way for reasons he couldn't explain to himself. "Eridanus, what the hell is going on? Why were you beating on my door like a bloody mad m-?"
Draco's rant came up short when he finally got a good look at Eridanus. His expression was calm but the muscles in his neck looked strained as he gently lowered his load on to the sofa. He removed the robes and replaced it with the blanket Hermione kept in a basket under the coffee table. Draco realized that the lumpy something was Pyxis, fast asleep wrapped in a child-sized bathrobe, as if he had plucked her straight from the bath and come here.
"Eridanus..." Draco said quietly. Eridanus looked away from his daughter reluctantly and up at Draco. He said nothing for several moments then sighed.
"Someone tripped the Apparation alarm on my home while we were away. I could feel that the wards had been tested before the car was even in the drive. Pyxis and I were coming back from her dance lessons... Jazz and tap," he added smiling at his daughter's sleeping form. "Anyway, I've charmed my Foe Glass to keep a memory of whoever appears in it. It was a wizard, but I didn't recognize his face." He frowned at this. "I keep a pretty steady watch on my Foe Glass and I haven't had so much as an angry postman approach my house for the time that I've lived there. Either way someone wishing harm on me or my daughter came to call and I will not risk her being in danger by staying there."
Draco nodded slowly. "Where are you going? To France?"
"I'm not running," Eridanus said quietly. "Quite the opposite. I'm going to go look for him. Whoever he is. I can't imagine that I've made any new enemies as of late, so I'll start with the old ones. Who knows, I may not have to search very hard at all. I doubt very highly that me not being home will have deterred him from pursuing me further. I'll find out if my name has been in the streets. See who from the old crowd is still prowling around."
Draco glanced at the clock on the wall. "It's been hours since you were supposed to arrive for dinner. This whole time you were...?"
"Emptying my house... and erasing all evidence of me or Pyxis having been there."
"When are you leaving?"
"Almost immediately," he answered.
Draco nodded. He didn't need too much more detail to understand Eridanus' urgency. From what Draco knew of Eridanus' past Pyxis shouldn't be seen by any old "colleagues," not when she was thought to be dead. He looked at Pyxis for a long moment.
"And you're leaving Pyxis here." It wasn't a question.
"I don't have anybody else that I can trust her with Draco," Eridanus said just above a whisper, his eyes pleading.
Draco swallowed and looked at the little girl nervously. "How long will you be gone?"
"As long as it takes to find him. Or until I'm positive that her life isn't in any danger. Whichever comes first." He reached inside his pocket and produced two miniature pieces of furniture. "All of Pyxis' belongings are in here," he said placing a miniature chest drawers and what appeared to be a tiny wooden toy chest on the coffee table. "If there's anything else she needs, she has money. I've emptied everything I have into her Gringotts account."
"Is that really necessary?" Draco asked alarmed.
"I'm just taking precautions," Eridanus said glancing at the time distracted. "I need to be leaving. Please apologize to Hermione for me. I know that this extremely unfair of me, leaving my child with you, and with absolutely no notice. I'll never be able to repay either of you for this." He bent down, smoothing back Pyxis' dark hair and kissing her forehead. He turned to Draco and clasped his hand in both of his. "I'll be in touch as soon as it safe. Thank you, Draco."
He was out of the door before Draco could form a response.
"Is Daddy gone?" whispered a tiny voice.
Draco jumped. He turned to look at Pyxis but her eyes were still closed, her breathing slow and rhythmic. He knelt beside her and whispered back, unsure that he had heard her. "Yes."
Her eyes opened immediately. She blinked twice before looking up at Draco. Blue stared into gray. Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How long have you been awake little one?"
She sat up and smiled sadly, her cheeks cream and roses. "A while... Before we left Daddy said that he was going to have to go away for a while and that I had to stay with you. He got really sad when he told me." Her nose wrinkled at the thought. "It's hard for Daddy to say bye. So I went to sleep. But he'll be happy when he comes back," she said matter-of-factly. She played with the fluffy sleeve of her robes. "Can I change, Uncle Draco?"
Draco started a little at this. He had never imagined that he would ever be addressed as such. It was strange, though much to his surprise, not unpleasant. He got up picking up her tiny chests, and said, "Sure. Follow me." He made his way to Harry's old room and placed the chests on the floor against the wall. He flicked his wand and they enlarged to their original size. Pyxis clapped excitedly as she recognized her belongings and then rushed forward tugging on the top drawer.
"Papa puts my pajamas in the top drawer," she said conversationally. "Which I always thought was silly. I asked Daddy one day, I said 'Daddy, why not put the pajamas on the bottom, since it's the last thing I'll put on for the day?' He just shook his head, but it makes sense doesn't it, Uncle Draco?"
He couldn't help but smile. "It makes perfect sense, Pyxis." She nodded in agreement as she stood on tip-toe, fishing clothes from a drawer. Draco watched as she all but emptied it on to the floor looking for the pajamas she wanted. She raised a mismatched top and bottom in the air smiling widely to herself.
"Got it!" she said excitedly. She started to undo the knot around her waist and Draco immediately turned around. "I'll be outside," he said practically running from the room.
She bounced out of Harry's old room moments later and Draco couldn't suppress his laughter at her appearance. The top she wore was striped purple and pink with a glittering unicorn prancing around her belly. On her lower half she wore green ankle length cotton pants with little hopping frogs. Her pigtails were now lopsided from forcing her head through the opening of her shirt. She looked absolutely comical, and yet absolutely serene. She grabbed Draco's hand in the hallway and swung it, looking up at him.
"What's for dinner, Uncle Draco?"
Hermione didn't announce herself as she entered her flat. She was sure that Draco was up waiting for her anyway. But as she went through the post the only greeting she got was from Crookshanks, who looked particularly unhappy.
"What's wrong darling?" she cooed. "Was Draco being cross with you?" At that moment she heard Draco's light laugh from the kitchen. She found it odd that he was finding anything humorous when he should have been mad at her. She was about to ask him what was so funny when she heard another voice.
"I can't ever keep the meatballs on the fork," a little voice said. "And this fork is much too big. Don't you have a smaller one? One for my size?" Hermione put Crookshanks back on the floor before going through the living room to the kitchen.
"Here, let me see," Draco was saying. He took the fork from the owner of the small voice and pointed his wand at it. "Reducio... Is that better?" he asked, handing the fork back to the child. Hermione gaped at the child. She was sure that she had never seen the black-haired, ivory-skinned little girl before but she seemed oddly familiar. She cleared her throat to announce herself. The little girl waved both hands at her and smiled, the hand with the fork in it sending spaghetti sauce across the table. Draco turned around in his seat, a relieved expression coming over his face. He got up to greet her.
"Hey, you're late," he said casually embracing her.
"Draco, who is-"
He cut her off, but instead of speaking to her he addressed the little girl. "Pyxis, this is your Aunt Hermione. Aunt Hermione, Pyxis."
Hermione's eyes widened considerably at this but she recovered quickly. "Hello, sweetheart. How are you?"
"Great! Me and Uncle Draco are having spaghetti! Want some?" she asked holding up her fork towards her.
Hermione smiled. "Maybe in a little while. Me and Uncle Draco are going to have a chat in the other room, okay?" Pyxis nodded as Hermione grasped Draco very tightly around the top of his arm and steered him out of the kitchen.
"Who is that little girl in her pjs in our kitchen?" she whispered tersely.
"That is Eridanus' daughter."
"Daughter? You never mentioned a daughter."
Draco shrugged. "Must have slipped my mind."
"And where is Eridanus?" Hermione said bristling.
"He had to.. leave town. We're going to be taking care of her for a while. It's a long story."
"That makes two long stories I've yet to hear from you," she mumbled under her breath.
Draco rolled his eyes uncharacteristically. He was picking up her habits. "Look woman, I'll tell you everything when she's in bed. But it is okay that I took her in?" he asked looking slightly worried. "I mean, this is your place after all. I really don't have any right-"
"Of course, it's all right!" she whispered taken aback. "You know this place is every bit yours as much as it is mine. And I didn't mean to make her sound unwelcome. What ever she needs is fine. She's family after all." Draco smiled at this. The concept of family didn't seem so foreign or out of reach when Hermione was in the picture. He bent to kiss her but pulled back when he noticed she was worrying her lip.
"What's wrong?" he asked her.
"Who's going to look after her? I'm so busy with work, I'll hardly be home."
"I could easily work from home. It's not a problem."
Hermione looked at him skeptically. "You're going to look after a child? A little girl?"
"Are you implying that I can't?" he asked his eyes narrowing.
She laughed quietly. "You don't know the first thing about little girls. I'm sure of that much."
Draco ran a hand through his hair. "It couldn't possibly be that difficult," he drawled.
"You say that now," Hermione scoffed.
"Are you two telling secrets? Because I can still hear everything you're saying!" they heard Pyxis yell from the kitchen.
A/N: Hopefully I haven't lost my ability to write. LOL
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