Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to JK Rowling. I write to learn. No money is being made.
Poll Update: The overwhelming consensus is that Lucius is the blackmailer. Following distantly are Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. Thanks to everyone who's participated in the weekly polls! I hope you've enjoyed it! I know I have enjoyed reading your speculations.
Heavy Lies the Crown
Chapter 21 - - The Light of Pure Reason
- - -
Hermione blinked, the bottle of Firewhisky still in one hand, the blackmailer's letter in the other. "Are you sure?"
He nodded dully.
"How?" she asked, sinking into the chair nearest him.
"There's only one person in my life who's ever called me a 'gutless whelp.'" He grimaced.
"Who?" she prodded, trying not to be frustrated that he wouldn't just tell her already.
"Bellatrix."
Hermione frowned. "She's … dead."
Draco sighed. "Yes, she is. But her husband isn't."
Rodolphus Lestrange was the blackmailer? "Are you positive?"
"It makes perfect sense," he said wryly. "He's French; I deposit the money in Paris. He's my uncle; he hates that I'm 'disgracing the family' by seeing you. He wants my father to be the next Dark Lord; he tells me constantly what my father should do or think about my actions." Draco's tone had turned sour. He shook his head. "Why didn't I see it before?"
"I've read every single letter he's sent you," Hermione commented. "This letter and the last are the most vile and personal of all of them. He was too careful in the others, but his anger got the better of him and he slipped up. You didn't miss anything, Draco."
His mind was spinning, one notion spilling over into the next, so that he couldn't form a cohesive thought. "Bollocks," he muttered, going into his bedroom for a Sober-Up potion. Moments after swallowing, he felt marginally better and returned to the sofa and a worried Hermione.
"All right," he said. "Rodolphus."
"I'm not sure we should consider the search over," Hermione said. "I'm wary of declaring your uncle the blackmailer without more substantial proof. Why would he want to blackmail you?"
Draco frowned. "I have no idea, to be honest. He probably needs money while he's hiding from authorities."
"But surely not as much as he demands." She set the Firewhisky down and crossed her arms. "He must be doing something with it."
"I … I don't even know where to begin to speculate," Draco said, frustrated. "If he needed money, he only had to ask. I'm sure my mother would have felt duty-bound to give him something. Though she wouldn't have wanted it known that she was aiding wanted Death Eaters …."
He lifted one leg, resting his right ankle on his left knee, casting his thoughts about, hoping to discover something in his past dealings with his uncle that would provide some clue. After a few moments, he threw up his hands. "I cannot think of a motive."
"Let's worry about that later," Hermione suggested.
"What do you propose we do?" he asked.
"Find a way to be sure it's him," she replied matter-of-factly. "Then we can attempt to figure out why."
Draco chuckled. "Oh, of course. Why didn't I think of that?"
"Draco," she scolded lightly.
He pushed himself off the sofa and started pacing. There were a dozen things that demanded his attention, and he couldn't decide which to focus on first.
"We know how the money changes hands," Hermione began. "At least, we know what happens after you deposit the money. When you do it this time, I'll sneak into the back like I did before and wait until Frederic removes the money from the box. Then—"
"Let's assume for a moment that I agree with this plan. How will you get back there?" he asked, leaning against a bookcase across the room.
"I'll Disillusion myself, as I did before," she replied.
"No magic," he stated. "He monitors the bank on the day I deposit the money for all magical activity."
She crossed her arms. "Are you certain? Unless he's in the vicinity, then he can't very well do that."
"It's not a risk I'm willing to take." His tone indicated finality of the matter.
Hermione's brow furrowed in concentration. Then she snapped her fingers. "Harry's Invisibility Cloak! It's different from other, similar cloaks, leaves no magical signature and is undetectable by spells!" She smiled in triumph.
Draco hadn't been expecting that, but an incident in his third-year came quickly to mind. He narrowed his eyes. "How long has he had that cloak?"
"He got it for Christmas his first year at Hogwarts," she replied. "Why?"
"I remember seeing him with it." Draco chuckled. "Third year, Hogsmeade. Snowballs, right? By the Shrieking Shack?"
She smiled innocently at that and shrugged, and he had an impulsive desire to snog her until he'd completely forgotten about the rotten hand life had dealt him. But that would probably take an entire week, at least, and as pleasant as it sounded, he had way too much to do in order to meet the blackmailer's … his Uncle's demands.
Draco shook his head. "Fine. Continuing along this line of thinking, let's say you get into the back of the bank undetected and remain that way until Frederic retrieves the deposit. What are you going to do then?"
"Easy," she said confidently. "Follow him until he meets with Rodolphus. I won't do anything rash; all we want is confirmation of his identity. Once I have it, I'll leave."
Draco crossed his arms. "What if he sends the money off by Portkey?"
The question made Hermione pause and think. "All Portkeys must be registered. We can check with the French Ministry and see who had a Portkey request for that day."
He rolled his eyes. "This is a Death Eater, giving a Portkey to a Muggle, who's under the Imperius. I don't think he'd bother asking permission."
She huffed. "I'll be sure to have a grip on the Portkey then."
His eyes flashed dangerously. "You will do nothing of the sort!"
"No, you're right. That would be stupid," she admitted quickly. "The chances of using a Portkey to transport something are very slim. It's very risky. Besides, I'm certain he'll be in the immediate vicinity of the bank in order to watch for magic. Since you maintain that he's doing it."
"He does. I've been testing him randomly. I use my wand to light a cigarette, and all but one time, he remarked about it," Draco told her.
"You smoke?" she asked, stunned.
"Absolutely not," he replied, disgust evident. "But it's a simple spell that won't be misconstrued as threatening. I always perform it outside the bank, after the deposit."
"See?" Hermione said insistently. "He cannot be far if he's able to maintain that kind of watch on the bank. Frederic won't have to send the money by Portkey."
"What if he uses an owl?" Draco argued. "To discourage the Muggle from trying to find him?"
Watching Hermione think was oddly fascinating to him. She would nibble on her lip, her eyes would dart around as though she was reading an invisible book, and occasionally, her tongue would nip out of her mouth to wet her lips. Before, it had always been distracting to say the least, but now, when he was in full possession of the rights to interrupt her thoughts ….
Draco shook his head. He needed to focus on the problem; there would be plenty of time for kissing her and more later.
"If he uses an owl," Hermione said slowly, "I'll follow the owl on a broom until I spot him."
"I thought you hated flying," Draco observed.
She shrugged. "It's not my favorite method of travel, but I don't mind when the job calls for it."
"I think Rodolphus, nutter that he is, would notice you flying after his owl."
"I'll Disillusion the broom, and—"
"No magic," he interrupted.
Hermione took a long breath. "Fine. The Cloak will cover me and the broom."
Draco snorted. "It's obvious you've not flown much, Hermione. The wind will whip that cloak around so much that you'll be lucky it covers any of you. Besides, those things aren't too reliable."
"Invisibility Cloaks? No, you're right; they can go bad after awhile. But not Harry's. His is different," she explained.
He narrowed his gaze at her. "How is it different?"
She hesitated. "It's … a very long story. For another time, perhaps."
Draco frowned. Hermione had never withheld information from him before.
"I assure you it has nothing to do with what we're doing." She gave him a smile that in other circumstances would have completely disarmed him.
That smile also convinced him that whatever she wasn't telling, he wanted to know, and that only annoyed him. Something in her eyes, the way she'd turned her body slightly, hoping to discourage further questions, only settled his resolve to hear the story another time.
He sighed heavily. "It still isn't going to stay on in flight," he reiterated.
Hermione sighed, and then her face lit up. "I'll Disillusion the broom before going to the bank, leave it outside, and use it if necessary! The cloak will cover me while I'm flying." She gave him a victorious smile.
Draco looked at her hard. "I'm not crazy about this plan. Why don't you go into the bank with the cloak, and then if the Muggle takes off, I'll follow on the broom."
"But you'd be visible," she countered. "And if we took the time to transfer the cloak to you, we might lose him, and we'd be seen by anyone watching."
Draco floundered, desperately trying to find an argument that would stick. "This all happens at night," he said. "The last time, the employee took the money at night."
"I'll just stay in the bank until after closing," she said. "He'll have to disarm their alarm system in order to get in and out, and I'll just follow. Besides, we only have one instance caught on tape. We don't know that it happens the same way every time."
"I don't want you in any danger," he said firmly.
"Well, I think we need to know for certain," she returned. "How else do you suggest we accomplish that without laying eyes on him, catching him in the act?"
Draco shook his head at his oversight. "It's my Uncle. He's been here, was here a little over two months ago. There's no reason he wouldn't return, if invited … by my father."
Hermione's brow furrowed. "I don't like that."
"When my parents return, I could throw them a welcome home party," he said, returning to pacing. "My mother would be ecstatic; she loves attention lavished upon her. I'll invite my uncles, slip Rodolphus some of the Veritaserum I've brewed, and confront him in front of my father!"
"Maybe," she said an interested tone. "I like my plan better."
"I'm sure you do," he conceded. "However, my plan doesn't involve you putting yourself in harm's way."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to burst out from under the cloak and challenge the man to a duel, Draco! I don't want to be in harm's way either!"
Draco knew she was right, but he was reluctant to agree to anything that put her within sight of a Death Eater. However …. "If you will promise me that you won't come out from under that cloak, or follow him, or … or try any of your rush-headlong-into-danger rubbish, I'll agree to your plan."
She squealed in delight, and he wondered if it was because he'd agreed to her idea or because she'd gotten him to fold. "If that doesn't work," he continued, "we'll do it my way."
"Excellent," she said. "I knew you could be brought to see reason."
"You can be infuriating." He smiled, feeling it reach all the way to his eyes. He hadn't felt that in a long time.
"I know." She stood and leaned against the wall in front of him. "Now that we've got that settled, why don't you kiss me like you've been thinking about for the last twenty minutes?"
Draco chuckled. "If we did that, we'd be here all night."
"What's wrong with that?" she asked, taking a step closer and tentatively tracing her fingers along his face.
He was out of his mind, completely nutters. A raving lunatic. Barmy. Off his trolley. Truly, he belonged in the loony bin. Hermione deserved … well, more attention than he had time for, and he didn't want their first time to be rushed or for his thoughts to be drawn elsewhere. Not that he anticipated that being a problem.
"You have no idea how much I want to do this," he forced out, placing his hand over hers where it rested on his cheek.
"But?" She smiled wryly.
"But, I have a week to find a hundred thousand Galleons." She winced. "I haven't even recovered from the last one. I'm going to straight from here to the office, and if I'm lucky, I'll make it back here to fall into bed. My office sofa is quite comfortable, though."
"That's awful," she said, distancing herself just enough to make her nearness not so … tantalizing, but still pleasant. "I will behave myself."
He started to smile but ended up sighing. "Suffice it to say, you won't see me until after I've come up with the money."
"I wish I could help," she said helplessly. "Can you spare a few minutes to write me sometime?"
"Of course." Draco bent down and lightly brushed his lips against hers. For an instant, he forgot what he's just said and started to kiss her more, but she backed away. "Merlin," he groaned. "Sometimes I hate my life."
"Not for long," Hermione said, her tone all-business. Then she glanced at the clock and her eyes went wide. "Oh! I've got my house meeting in five minutes!" She rushed around, making sure she wasn't forgetting anything, and hurried to the fireplace. "I'll see you!"
"Goodbye, Hermione." He smiled as she waved and disappeared.
The Fates, which had always been against him, were now working overtime to keep him as miserable as possible. Yes, they had granted him Hermione Granger, but then made his circumstances so impossible that he was left wanting. Since declaring their feelings, they had spent almost no time alone, just being together without fears or concerns or worries. Draco sighed, supposing that such luxuries would have to wait. At least there was an end in sight, and this thought comforted him as he grudgingly made his way back to his office.
ooo
7th November
Draco,
I find it hard to believe that your father and I have been gone for thirteen weeks! The time has simply flown by. I'm writing to inform you that we'll be returning this week, on Thursday, the 11th. Our Floo-connection is scheduled for ten in the morning, and we are looking forward to having lunch with you. We heard all about the excitement in the Place de la Magie a few weeks ago and wish we could have been there. However, duty called us elsewhere.
Now to the matter that everyone has been ignoring: Miss Granger. I have managed to convince your father that the girl is not after our money, nor does she intend any ill-will toward the family as a result of your aunt's actions during the war. Your courtship seems genuine; at least as far as the gossip columns can be trusted.
Your father wishes to know how serious your relationship is. I know, and have told him, that you haven't been involved with anyone for some time, and so naturally we wonder if this is just a fling that will blow over. I know you're awfully busy with work, and so it's possible that you are just in the early stages. We hope to have these and other questions answered soon after our arrival.
Should you inform us that you're serious about her, then certain steps must be taken. She may not run in our circles, but that doesn't mean we will ignore the social protocol. Dinner with her is a must, followed by inviting her parents into our home. I'm afraid Lucius isn't too keen on this idea, and we'd like some time to get used to her and her being with you before we move to that step. We hope you understand. We are trying to be understanding and not to take this as a personal slight against the traditions that both the Malfoys and the Blacks have always held. As I have repeatedly told your father, the heart wants what it wants and doesn't recognize social status the way our eyes and minds do.
He is slowly coming around, and Draco, I do mean slowly. Please be aware, however, that he is trying, if only because his respect and love for you have grown in the years he was absent from your life.
We look forward to seeing you soon and finally being a family, as we were meant to be. We love you, son.
Narcissa
ooo
8th November
Mother,
I await your return with great anticipation. Even more so Father's attempts at being 'understanding.'
I wish to put together a small 'welcome home' soiree, if that's all right with you. Though we just had one for Father's release, your friends would dearly love the chance to see you, as you've been gone for so long. The Saturday immediately following your return is best for me. Please respond quickly so that I may continue preparations.
Dutifully yours,
Draco
ooo
9th November
Hermione,
I'm exhausted and can barely hold this quill upright, but at quarter to midnight, I have collected the final Galleon for the deposit. Truthfully, I'd been slowly building a reserve fund over the years, and this demand required me to deplete it. Nevertheless, it made the process go smoother than it would have otherwise.
My parents return Thursday and have requested my presence for a full explanation of my relationship with you. Is it ridiculous that I'm thrilled that I don't have to lie? No, of course it's not, though you know I've never had any compunction about lying.
They have agreed to the party in their honor, and I await the approved guest list. Should your plan work, it will still be an excellent venue for a confrontation. It's unbelievable to think that this might end so soon. I scarcely know how to feel.
I will be making a trip to Paris first thing in the morning. And I've just remembered your duties! I will do anything to help you get out of your classes, even teach them if I must. Please respond right away so I can make arrangements. I'm sure you have copious lesson plans that will make the job almost effortless. I have arranged for the use of your Eiffel Tower Portkey once again.
One final thing: do not be surprised if you receive an invitation to dinner on Friday night. My mother is insistent on following the 'social code,' and that includes a formal meeting.
See you soon,
Draco
ooo
Hermione was up at five in order to prepare everything for her day. She wrote a detailed list of instructions for Draco and gave him a copy of her schedule. Merlin, she was tired! She got his owl after midnight and had promptly responded, then gotten up and planned her day. She didn't get back to sleep until nearly two, only to wake three hours later.
She was still writing when Draco came through the Floo at half-past seven, looking bright and fresh, not at all like he'd been up late and working long hours.
"Morning," she said, smiling sleepily.
"Good morning, Hermione." He smiled back, drinking in the sight of her bending over her desk, a quill in hand. Briefly, he wondered that it might be too soon in their relationship to have missed her so much since the last time he'd seen her—had it really been almost a week? Such thinking was much too sappy for a man of his character. Really, though, they'd been 'together' for longer, officially or not, so he didn't let it bother him.
She yawned again. "Aren't you spent?"
He presented a small vial, smirking. "My own creation. For you."
"What is it?" she asked, accepting it warily.
"The modified Pepper-Up I've mentioned," he explained. "Works wonders. You'll crash later, but this should get you through the day as though you'd slept restfully for a full night."
"I don't know …." She frowned.
"Hermione, I assure you it's completely safe," he said, Conjuring a carafe of water and pouring her a glass. "I've been using it for years and haven't had any problems. Once won't hurt you, although it does taste awful."
"If you're certain," she said, still eyeing the vial with suspicion.
"You do trust me, don't you?" he asked, frowning slightly.
She sighed. "Of course I do." Then she braced herself and took the potion.
Draco chuckled at the way her face contorted into a horrified grimace.
"What's in that? Merlin, it's foul!" she cried, downing the water and quickly pouring another glass.
"Secret ingredient," he chimed, grinning mischievously. Then it occurred to him that he could kiss her and he did, catching her completely off guard as he pressed his lips to hers. Any remaining stress slipped away as he surrendered himself to the bliss that was kissing Hermione Granger.
Hermione sighed, her hands pressed lightly against his chest. At this rate, they would never get anything accomplished. The thought brought her back to the present and she pushed against him gently but firmly.
"Draco," she breathed, feeling slightly light-headed.
He chuckled, low and deep, sending a thrill of anticipation through her.
"It still catches me off guard that I can do that whenever I want," he admitted.
"Same here." She smiled up at him, the look in his eyes making her chest tighten sweetly. "I wonder when it won't require a conscious thought first."
He smirked. "I intend to do everything in my power to move to natural as quickly as possible."
"See that you do," she said in a business-like manner. "Now, let's discuss our day. You've just been to the bank?"
"I was there first thing," he said, nodding. "Here's the Portkey, it will activate in about ten minutes."
Hermione handed him the stack of things she had collected on her desk. "Here's all you need to know. Read that letter carefully. Be good. Hopefully, I'll be able to return before too long."
"That's a self-activating Portkey," he told her. "Simply touch your wand to it, say Portus, and you're on your way back to the same spot from which you departed. I paid dearly for it, but it's better than keeping you in Paris—and therefore away from me—until this evening."
"Agreed." She grinned. "Thank you for taking my seventh-year class. I've written down everything you need to know. Do you remember where the classroom is?"
Draco nodded. "Sixth floor, just past the portrait of the dogs playing poker. Am I not taking your other classes as well?"
"I found someone else to cover those," she explained. "Two of my seventh-year students will be getting some extra credit, but they can't exactly teach themselves. On such short notice, Minvera wasn't able to find someone to cover this one class."
"I'm glad I can do something to help," he said, hoping he sounded confident. In truth, even the thought of teaching one class terrified him slightly.
"Brilliant." Hermione leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. "Behave. See you soon."
He scoffed, feigning injury. "Behave? What am I, some fourth-year caught pestering his juniors?"
"No," she quipped, collecting Harry's cloak and her other supplies: her current book, the newest Journal of Apothecary Research, a notebook, and a wide assortment of snacks. "You're a former Slytherin who's just been given a slice of power over children. Minerva wasn't thrilled about this, but had no other option." She gave him a pleading look.
Draco rolled his eyes. "I will behave!" he cried. "I don't know what would give you the impression that I'd do something to jeopardize your job or being in your good graces."
"Thank you. I look—" She was cut-off mid-sentence when the Portkey activated.
Hermione landed in the same alleyway as before and quickly morphed into action mode. Everything she needed was in her trusty beaded bag, and she wrapped the cloak around her, checking to make sure she was completely covered. Then she darted through the crowd and into the bank.
She stationed herself as close to the 'employees only' door as she could without risking being inadvertently jostled. Only ten minutes passed before someone exited, and she slipped through the door without incident. Since she'd been there once before, Hermione was somewhat familiar with the layout of the inner rooms of the bank, and had no trouble locating the break room that butted against the deposit box room.
Hermione found the perfect spot to hide and hunkered down to wait.
ooo
Draco stood perusing the books in the classroom while he waited for the next group of students to filter in. He didn't remember many of them being there when he took the class, and wondered how much of Hermione's personal collection had made its way onto the shelves.
His back was to the door, and as he took down one of the volumes to flip through, someone entered.
"Professor."
It was a girl's voice, and she sounded upset.
"I need to—Oh!" she exclaimed upon locking eyes with a curious Draco. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't …. Where's Professor Granger?"
Draco studied the black-haired girl with mild interest. "We've met, have we not?" he said.
She reddened and nodded. "I'm your …. Well, we're related. Distantly."
"You're a Black," he stated.
She nodded again. "Where's Professor—"
"I'll be teaching you today," he interrupted, carrying the book to the front desk. "Professor Granger is otherwise occupied."
"Oh." Samaya frowned, looking as though her best friend had died, and slumped into the nearest desk.
Draco felt a twinge of sympathy but concluded the girl was probably besotted with some ignorant bloke and shouldn't be moping around about it in the first place. He opened the book and began to read the forward.
"What should we call you?" Samaya asked.
"Mr. Malfoy will do," he replied, not taking his eyes off the page.
She leaned forward in her chair. "All right then, Mr. Malfoy. I really need to speak with Professor Granger."
He heaved a great sigh and looked up. "She's not here; it will have to wait."
Samaya frowned, and then said in an accusatory tone, "You know, she always says really nice things about you."
Draco blinked. Hermione did what? He would have to ask her about this next time he saw her. Closing the book, he addressed Samaya, "What exactly would you like me to do?"
"Well," the girl began, a hopeful glint in her eyes, "she trusts you, and you are a distant relation, so maybe you'd be able to help."
"Help with what? Do you always come in so early? Class doesn't begin for another fifteen minutes," he asked with a glance at the clock.
"I needed to speak with her," Samaya insisted. "When I saw the door open, I figured she was available."
Behave, Hermione had admonished. He didn't think that extended to getting involved in a student's personal problems, but the girl was insistent. She would likely end up telling him anyway, no matter what he did or said.
"Fine. How may I be of service?" he asked reluctantly.
Samaya wrung her hands and then started tapping her foot nervously. "Well, it's just …. It's my father. He received a message that's got him worried."
At least they wouldn't be discussing 'girl things,' he thought, relieved. "Continue."
"Someone, another distant relation, wrote to him and …." She paused to gather her thoughts. "Mr. Malfoy, my family was not involved in the war with Voldemort. We don't hold to the usual beliefs and traditions of other family members."
He saw her flinch slightly as she said this, probably thinking he still did. "I see."
"This letter … it demanded that my father and mother join this man, someone named Rabastan, in building a new army."
Draco's blood froze at the mention of his lunatic uncle's name.
Samaya continued, unaware of the sudden change that had come over him. "He-he threatened to hurt my family if they don't comply. My father is considering taking us back to Belgium to get away, but my mother is scared that this Rabastan character would just follow. He says he's a-a Death Eater."
Draco scowled and stood to pace behind the desk, his head buzzing. "When did your father get this letter?" he asked.
"Last week," she answered. "Wh-what should we do?"
Draco didn't answer right away as he tried to process the significance of the letter. He doubted it was the only one of its kind to be sent. When his uncles had last been at the Manor, they had approached Lucius about stepping into an authoritative position at the head of the remaining Death Eaters, but Lucius had assured him he wouldn't.
Had that been a lie? Did the timing of this letter coincide with his father's return to England? Would he be joining Rabastan and Rodolphus in building this new, dark army? Did the blackmailing have anything to do with what Rabastan was doing? It seemed like too great a coincidence to be merely that.
Hermione's words came back to him from their conversation at the Quidditch game about his uncles, and he realized that she had been right. He should have turned them in, regardless of the flack he'd get from his parents. Not only would the world be down two more Death Eaters, but he wouldn't have been in the whole blackmailer mess to begin with. If he could manage it, he would turn Rabastan in along with Rodolphus.
"Mr. Malfoy?"
"What else did this letter contain?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I didn't read it; my father just shared the highlights."
"Were there any other names he mentioned? My father's, perhaps?"
Samaya's eyes widened in shock. "I-I don't know. I don't think so."
Draco leaned on the back of the teacher's chair. "My uncle is insane. I mean that quite literally. If you get another letter, let me know. I wouldn't worry too much about him just yet. I haven't heard anything about a new dark army."
"W-would you though?" she stuttered, fear ghosting her features.
Hermione would have his head if she found out he'd purposely terrorized a student, so he wouldn't milk the situation. "Perhaps," he admitted. "But I doubt anyone would come to me, seeking my enlistment."
"Wait, he's your uncle?" Samaya's jaw dropped. "That means he's related to me, too?"
"Very distantly. Rabastan Lestrange's brother was married to Bellatrix Black," he said, leaving her to make the remaining connections.
"Wow," she whispered. "So … you're telling me to do nothing. That my family should just ignore this?"
Draco sighed. What did he know? Rabastan was mad enough to follow through which any threat he made, and Draco had learned long ago never to underestimate those who had been in Voldemort's inner circle. "The chances of him knowing where you live are slim. He's a wanted man, and I doubt he's even in England." Probably in France with his brother.
"But—"
"That said," he interrupted, "he is a deranged madman, and I wouldn't dismiss his threats. If I were your father, I would attempt to find out more information from him. Let him think I was considering his offer. Information is power, Miss Black."
"You're suggesting my father play along, then?" she asked.
"For now," he replied. "Have him sound interested, but only mildly. Inquire as to who is of like mind and what has been done to begin this effort. He may not answer, but it will give more time."
"Then what?" she demanded. "We do not want any part of this."
"I'm working on it," he quipped. "I meant what I said about contacting me. If your father is agreeable, I'd like to meet with him and discuss this."
Samaya's brow furrowed in worry. "This is serious, isn't it?"
"Never underestimate a Death Eater," he said intently. "Especially the crazy ones."
"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," she said. "I'll write my father today."
"Good. Don't breathe a word of this to anyone," he insisted.
Then the girl grinned and waggled her eyebrows. "What about Professor Granger?"
Draco raised an eyebrow. "What about her?"
"Will you be telling her?" Samaya asked, clamping her hands together and resting her head on them.
"Not that it's any of your business, but yes," he replied, as the other students started to arrive.
"She's something special, isn't she?" Samaya's dark eyes twinkled mischievously.
Draco narrowed his gaze on the girl, and when everyone had taken a seat, began the class.
ooo
"Did you see the substitute Arithmancy teacher?"
"Do you think it's a permanent assignment?"
"I wonder if he'll be teaching any other classes."
"He's bloody gorgeous!"
Draco smirked as he walked through the halls of Hogwarts toward Hermione's room, his keen hearing picking up snippets of conversations between the older female students. It was entertaining but not distracting. His thoughts were continually on Hermione.
The class had been … interesting, to say the least. Teaching certainly wasn't his calling, as he found he had little patience for the juvenile behavior of the students. How Hermione dealt with them on a daily basis, he couldn't imagine.
To his lament, the experience hadn't been enough to stop the worry that was gnawing at his gut from growing with every second that ticked off the clock. Though he hadn't realistically expected to hear back from Hermione so soon, he had still hoped.
Draco entered Hermione's rooms and allowed himself three minutes to relax. He brewed a cup of tea and poked around her things, even indulging in a peek through her unmentionables drawer. It was a mistake, really, as it only made his throat go dry and his mind start down paths that would only leave him frustrated.
After quickly downing a second cup of tea, he Floo'd to his office, where he set about doing the work he'd neglected by covering for Hermione. Though lengthy budget reports couldn't take his mind of Hermione, at least they were dull enough to numb his senses. He could hope, at least.
ooo
Hermione silently cursed as the door to the break room closed. She stretched her legs, careful not to let any part of her be uncovered by the cloak. Her hiding spot hadn't been the worst possible place, but it was still highly uncomfortable.
The worst part was that she'd been sitting awkwardly for almost the entire day, with barely a ten-minute stretch where she could relax. She had managed to get some reading done, but it was hard to concentrate when people were constantly going in and out, getting coffee, or pausing to chat with a co-worker.
She had one hope that had pervaded her thoughts for the last two hours: that someone would leave a chair askance. The room was being monitored, and it wouldn't do any good for the security people to see a chair moving seemingly of its own accord.
Finally, the bank closed, and Hermione got her wish. As soon as the lights went out and all the noise ceased, she breathed a sigh of relief. Scooting out from her hiding spot, Hermione stretched, massaging her aching joints, and then carefully slid into the chair.
Hours passed. She ran out of food. She finished the article she'd wanted to read. When midnight came and went, Hermione realized that Frederic might not even show up tonight. She'd be stuck in the break room until the next day when the bank opened again.
Then the door opened and she jerked her head up, surprised to find that she'd fallen asleep. The clock read two in the morning. A figure entered the room and flicked on the lights, making Hermione squint. It was Frederic.
He crossed mechanically to the wall, moved the picture aside, and opened Draco's safety deposit box. Then he withdrew the magically shrunken bag of Galleons, pocketed it, and returned the room to its previous state.
Hermione positioned herself by the door, and slipped through as Frederic made his exit. Next she followed him as he reset the alarms and exited the bank.
Breathing deeply of the cool, night air, adrenaline coursing through her, Hermione cast a silencing charm on her shoes and followed Frederic as he left the bank and headed down an alley. He walked for a long time, turning at every other street, and she briefly panicked that he knew he was being tailed and was trying to lose her.
She rushed up beside him and saw that his eyes were glazed over and shone with an unnatural glint when the light hit them in a certain way. He was definitely Imperiused.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Frederic neared the Seine and descended a set of stairs so that he was off the main road. Then he walked under a bridge, Pont Neuf, Hermione recalled, and stopped.
Another few minutes passed and then someone arrived with a loud pop!
Hermione's heart was pounding furiously as he neared them, his shoes clacking loudly on the stone walkway.
The man stopped under the bridge, his features largely hidden by the shadows.
"Well," he said gruffly. "Give it here."
Frederic robotically held out his hand containing the bag of gold. The blackmailer snatched it hastily, opening it and sighing in relief at seeing the contents.
"Bloody piece of …." He trailed off, muttering under his breath so Hermione couldn't hear. "Good. Go," he commanded, and Frederic immediately walked away.
Now Hermione was completely terrified, even though she trusted that the cloak would keep her hidden. She was standing mere feet from the man who had made Draco's life exceptionally hard for seven years, who also happened to be a Death Eater. And not just any Death Eater, if Draco was right; he was one of Voldemort's inner circle.
Still muttering, the tall, thick man turned and started back the way he'd come.
Started, Hermione panicked. She had to see his face! Glancing around her feet, she saw a stone and tossed it into the water.
The man spun, wand out, toward the sound, his face illuminated perfectly by a streetlight. Draco had told her what to look for, a long, vertical scar that ran the length of his face. It was him, without a doubt: Rodolphus. She would show Draco her memory, to be certain, but she felt triumphant.
After staring at the water until the ripples were absorbed in the flow of the water, Rodolphus finally relaxed and continued on his way.
Hermione waited until he'd disappeared, then leaned against the wall, trying to calm her nerves. Slowly she smiled. Confirmation! Draco would be thrilled, Draco—
She fumbled in her robes for the Portkey and activated it, returning with a thud to her suite at Hogwarts. Merlin, it was good to be home again.
A dim candle was burning, casting eerie shadows on the walls. As Hermione's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she noticed a lump on her sofa. A long, blond lump. Her heart leapt at the sight of him, and she went to him, shaking him gently.
"Draco!" she whispered. "Draco, wake up!"
He started awake, his eyes flying open and settling on her. He blinked, as though assuring himself that she was really there, then launched off the sofa to crush her against him. Draco simply held her as though she might suddenly turn into dust and blow away.
Hermione didn't mind, just closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of his arms around her. It was the first time that he'd held her like this, and she melted against him, breathing in his delicious scent.
Then he was kissing her head and letting her go, only to take her face in his hands and place gentle but fervent kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, her eyes and nose, and then finally his lips captured hers. It wasn't the desperate, fiery kiss of lovers reunited, but instead it spoke of all-encompassing welcome, relief, and joy. It was beautiful.
Draco ended the kiss and kept her face tilted toward his. "I … I was so worried."
She smiled and nodded. "I know, I'm sorry. But I'm fine."
He hugged her again and then released her, pulling her onto the sofa beside him. "Tell me everything."
Hermione relayed her story, though it took only five minutes to tell. "You were right, Draco. It's Rodolphus."
"And he didn't see you?" Draco questioned. "He didn't suspect?"
She shook her head. "Other than stiff muscles, it went off perfectly."
He pulled her close and kissed the side of her head, then held her against him. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, and then he said, "I took so many house points tonight, it's not funny."
Hermione laughed. "Really?"
He ran his free hand through his hair, chuckling softly. "I was in a foul mood from the start and it only worsened. The later the hour, the harsher I was. I caught a couple of older girls out past curfew, and they thought it would be just hilarious to try and flirt with me."
She gasped. "No!"
"I'm afraid so. They got detention for a week with Filch and lost their houses twenty-five points each."
"I wish I could've seen their faces!" Her laughed turned into a yawn.
Draco noticed. "Oh, Merlin, Hermione! You haven't slept at all, have you?"
"Not really," she said, shaking her head. "That stuff you gave me this morning really helped, but it's definitely worn off. I faded for a couple of hours, somewhere around midnight, but woke when Frederic entered the room. The adrenaline kept me going then, but it's definitely worn off."
"Come on, let's get you to bed."
She smirked sleepily. "Don't you wish?"
"Yes, but not tonight." He helped her off the sofa and into her bedroom, where she shuffled to the bed and plopped on top of the covers. "Do you want to get under? Or do you have a blanket?" he asked, glancing around.
"Mmm…."
Draco stared at his now sleeping girlfriend, marveling at her strength and courage. Merlin, she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.
With a sigh, he removed her shoes and outer robes, then covered her with a blanket he'd found. "Goodnight, Hermione," he murmured into her hair, kissing her temple.
"Night … Malfoy …."
He chuckled and gathered his things, made sure her alarm was set for the next day, and left in a swirl of green flames.
ooo
End Notes: Thanks for reading! Hope you liked this! Art for this chapter was done by kryptiq (LJ), and the music as always done by inadaze22.