HUNTED

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Chapter 26: Visits.

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Hermione offered him a polite smile but it turned into a frown when she heard Ron mumble something derogatory under his breath.

"Blaise," she greeted, but her agitated expression hardened when she felt her friend yanking on her arm. She gave him a confused glance and realised he was trying to pull her back protectively, sizing up the other wizard. With a warning stare at her rusty ex-boyfriend, she tore her hand out of his fist and offered Blaise an apologetic look.

"Granger," he nodded, shooting a suspicious glare at her two companions. "Are you alright?"

"We're fine," she said, but it was unconvincing when she had to give Ron another shove for trying to shield her. "I think Draco's in the kitchen."

"Okay," he replied, giving the two men another unsure look before he headed to the other room.

"So, do you have all Slytherins playing your bodyguards now?" Blaise heard Weasley mutter.

He contemplated turning around to give the redhead a piece of his mind, but he could already hear Granger's quick retort and decided to leave it. Wandering into the kitchen, he found Draco slumped over what he could only assume was his Ministry work, tapping his fingers against a tumbler of Firewhiskey.

"You do know there's a gathering of Gryffindors in your front room?" he remarked, gaining the blond's attention.

"Blaise," Draco acknowledged, setting down his quill. "Yes, I had noticed."

"What exactly are they doing here?"

"Well, surely Granger's pretty obvious," he shrugged, gesturing for his fiend to take a seat.

"Yes," Blaise rolled his eyes. "I heard that she was moving in with you. I meant Potter and Weasley."

"She's trying to convince them I'm not a prick so they can be all chummy again," he answered nonchalantly. "Don't ask me why. I'm not entirely sure how Potter and Weasley could be valuable in anybody's life."

"And you let them have this little meeting in your house?" he asked sceptically, realising that his old friend looked sufficiently drained.

"The alternative was less appealing," he said, pouring a second glass of Ogden's for Blaise. "Did things look okay, or do I have to intervene?"

"Fine, I guess," he mumbled, resting the glass against his lips. "Weasley looked a bit agitated and was trying to manhandle her but she had it under control-

"Define 'manhandle,'" Draco demanded, arching one of his eyebrows.

"Nothing really," he offered, analysing his friend's face closely. "He just tried to pull her away from me when I came in."

"What a twat," he breathed the insult with ease. "Did they look like they were close to finishing?"

"No idea."

"For fuck's sake," he grumbled, taking a swig of his drink. "If they're still here at ten I'm kicking them out. I need an early night."

"You're going to bed at ten?" Blaise sounded amused, glancing at the clock. "Living life on the edge there, Malfoy?"

"I'm bloody shattered," he confessed, rubbing his bag-clad eyes. "The last couple of days have been shit and work's going to be rough tomorrow."

"I read about Clearwater," he mumbled, giving his friend a pointed look. "Granger actually looks okay in spite of everything."

"Well, she was a bloody mess when it happened," he replied honestly, shaking his head as he recalled her initial reaction. "But she'll be fine. I'm sure she's seen worse."

"Sure," Blaise almost looked concerned.

"It was fucked up though," Draco said slowly, cringing as the image flashed across his eyelids. "Clearwater looked like someone had literally pumped out all her blood and then just spread it around her-

"You saw her?"

"I went back to see if I could find anything unusual," he supplied. "But there was nothing."

"Bugger," the dark wizard muttered, taking a long sip of his Firewhiskey.

"And I got a letter yesterday," Draco revealed, watching Blaise's eyebrows wise. "Same invitations all the others got."

"You don't seem too bothered about it," he commented after a small pause.

"I'm not," he shrugged, although his tone sounded more convinced than he actually was. "Can't do much about it. Anyway, Granger's meeting with the press-

"What the hell?" Blaise exclaimed suddenly, shooting a puzzled look at his feet. Draco glanced down and chuckled when he noticed Crookshanks pawing at his companion's leg. "What the fuck is this?" Blaise snapped, trying to brush away the cat's claws with little success.

"Granger's pet," Draco answered, absently clicking his fingers and feeling a little stunned when the scruffy creature actually unlatched itself from the other man's leg and made its way towards him. His bemused expression hardened when the half-kneazle jumped onto his lap with a loyal purr and nuzzled at his arm.

Blaise eyed the animal with cold eyes. "Stupid bloody...

But he trailed off as Hermione entered the kitchen and gave Draco a sceptical glance when she realised her beloved pet was curling up on his lap. "Don't tell me you're actually starting to like Crookshanks?"

"Hardly," her lover frowned, purposefully refusing to put his hands anywhere near the cat. "He was scratching Blaise."

"Oh sorry," she apologised, cringing when she noticed the small tears in his trousers. "He's not very good with strangers."

"No worries," he assured her, removing his wand and casting a silent Reparo. "See, no harm done."

"Can you get the fleabag off my lap?" Draco requested with an irritated tone.

"Fine" she rolled her eyes, gathering her pet in her arms and intending to settle him in the sitting room. She frowned when her cat gave a hearty hiss to Blaise as she moved past him. "Crookshanks!" she scolded, setting the cat down outside the kitchen door. "Sorry, Blaise. He must be in a bad mood."

"No, that cat's just psychotic," Draco mumbled, ignoring Hermione's offended look. "So, how did it go with Potter and Weasley?"

"Okay, I think," she replied with evident uncertainty. "They still hate you, but they like me again."

"That sounds about right," he surmised, watching his witch closely as she topped up her wine. "And it will have to do because they're not coming back here. Bloody Gryffindors-

"Hey!" she interrupted, placing a hand on her hip. "I'm a Gryffindor you prat."

"Such a shame," Blaise commented with a confident smirk. "And you look so good in green too."

Draco felt his lip twitch, and his stare narrowed. It was an instinct now; to shoot a cold glare whenever a male offered his lover a too-charming compliment. His ashy eyes automatically turned cold and callous, but it was the telling grip on his wand that made him falter.

Despite Hermione's Muggle phrase; looks most certainly do not kill.

But wands and words do, and he had some itching on the end on his tongue.

As he'd already established; it was instinct. Something primal and territorial that stirred without warning.

He shook his head for a second and gave himself a secret scolding for being so tense. Hermione's plight in the last few weeks had made him a little too conscious and snappy to defend her, and clearly he had lost himself for a moment. It was only bloody Blaise.

"Did you give me a green top on purpose?" she questioned, raising a slender eyebrow at him and luring him back. "I can't believe I didn't notice."

"Come now, Granger," he gave her a sly grin, his previous dark thoughts forgotten. "Do you honestly think me that conniving?"

"Yes," she smiled, finishing off her wine. "You were in Slytherin, Draco."

"Don't act so innocent," he argued, his tone almost playful. "We both know you can be a devious witch when it suits you."

"Ah, yes," she sighed with a little laugh. "Are you implying that I would have made a good Slytherin, Draco? Except for the bad blood and all that pesky integrity?"

He gave her a husky chuckle as her smile stretched. They had long since realised that they could crack a harmless joke about the blood prejudices now. She'd even made a few jests before they had started a relationship, and while he had been initially reluctant to respond to her quips, he had no trouble with it now. A glance at Blaise told him that his friend looked a little awkward about it but he figured that was normal.

He managed to resist the look of fondness that almost stole his face when a charming little moan accompanied her yawn. He caught the sadness that stained her features just before she tried to hide it by rubbing her eyes.

"I think I'm off to bed then," she mumbled, combing her fingers through her hair. "It's been a long day."

"It's only half nine," Blaise commented.

"I know," she sighed, stretching her arms above her head. "But I'm knackered. I think I might have a bath actually."

"I won't be long," Draco told her, silently grateful that she hadn't been overly affectionate to him in his Blaise's presence. "Sorry, Blaise. Rough week and all that-

"Don't rush," she said, offering their guest a parting nod. "You enjoy your man chat and I'll see you in a bit. Goodnight, Blaise."

"Goodnight, Granger," he replied, but she was already out the room.

"What did you want, Zabini?" the blond asked, perhaps a little too agitated. "No offence but I'm shattered and I'll be off in a few minutes."

"Nothing in particular," he shrugged, sipping at his Firewhiskey. "It's been a couple of weeks since I've been round and quite a bit has happened since then."

"You don't know the half of it, mate," he replied, but then revised his response when he remembered he wasn't supposed to mention his girlfriend's letters to anyone. He hadn't even told his mother at Hermione's request.

"Like what?" the dark wizard asked.

"Well, the Clearwater incident," he stated in a tone that reminded Blaise it was obvious. "And there's been a few other things with case. I think Granger's getting a little impatient now because she's talking the press tomorrow."

"What about?"

"About the letters the victims got," he explained, frowning as he thought about his own letter. "When I got mine yesterday I think it upset her a bit. Anyway, she's hoping some people might come forward if she makes it more public."

"Maybe," Blaise answered with a doubtful tone. "I'm sure she knows what she's doing. I thought Pucey told you that you wouldn't get any letters?"

"Clearly Pucey's full of shit," he growled, finishing off his drink. "I should have known better than to believe anything that prick said. Bloody hell, I'm shattered."

"You do look like shit," Blaise said with a straight face and a small nod.

"Then I should go get some rest," the pale wizard decided. "Sorry, mate. You should have come earlier."

"Fair point," he nodded, downing the remainder of his own beverage. "Pop over tomorrow if you get a chance. You're turning into an anti-social bastard, Malfoy."

"I barely have time to be sociable," Draco squinted his grey eyes. "But yes, if I can steal an hour or something I'll owl you. Can you let yourself out?"

"Always do," he sighed, rising from the table. "I'm trying to organise another Quidditch game with the lads from the office. Interested?"

"Maybe," he nodded as his friend left the room. "Let me know when."

"Will do," he muttered as he retreated to the sitting room. "Enjoy your bath-time with Granger."

Draco was about to blurt a witty retort but the customary growl of the fireplace drowned out anything he would have said. He cocked an eyebrow at Blaise's abrupt exit and parting comment but shrugged it off, reasoning it was typical of his behaviour. Heading upstairs to his room, his eyes went to the closed door of his en suite and he observed the small haze of steam seeping into his bedroom.

He didn't bother knocking.

With silent steps, he neared his witch, whose eyes were sealed in thoughtful relaxation. Her ignorance to his presence made her that much more alluring, especially when the heat of the water had roused a rosy tint to her skin. It was similar to her post-coital flush but it was laced with a subtle innocence and vulnerability that tugged at his stomach.

He simply studied her for a moment, mesmerized by how her chest would dip in and out of the foamy liquid with her steady breaths. He decided to make himself known and absently reached across to brush a stray strand of hair on her forehead. She jerked away but her walnut eyes instantly calmed when she saw him and she gave him a sleepy smile.

"That was quick," she breathed, her voice raspy with fatigue. "Everything okay?"

"An early night sounded good," he said, resting his weight against the tub and working at the buttons of his shirt. "Make some room."

She graced him with a feminine giggle and watched with those ever inquisitive and appreciative eyes as he stripped himself bare. He settled himself behind her and raked his distracted fingers through her drenched curls as she relaxed against his chest.

"So, what did Blaise want?"

"Just a chat," he answered, adjusting her against his body.

"He seemed a little tense tonight," she mentioned as an afterthought. "Everything okay?"

"It's getting close to Christmas," Draco muttered, wrinkling his nose when he knew she would want more information. "His mother died three years ago just before Christmas."

"That's sad," his lover said quietly, pausing to wonder if her next question was appropriate. "Were the rumours in Hogwarts true? About the six husbands?"

"Seven," he corrected.

"How did she die?"

"Same guy who killed my father," he revealed with a steady tone, ignoring her small gasp. "It's alright, Granger."

"I didn't know-

"There's no way you could have known," he hushed her quickly, instantly despising the inevitable flow of this conversation. He could feel her anxious pulse humming against him and her hesitant silence was telling enough.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked finally.

"Fuck no," he scoffed with a slight chuckle, feeling her instantly relax. "If I wanted a counsellor, I'd hire one."

"If you say so," she muttered, turning to give his collarbone a grateful nip.

"You seem better today," he told her, even though he knew she'd had several private cries during the day. A few smiles had blessed her mouth and although they'd been few and far between, like sun rays in a storm, his mind had been eased by them.

"I think the talk with Harry and Ron helped a little," she whispered, basking in the lulling throbs of his heartbeat. "Maybe this is a sign that things will get better."

"Don't get your hopes up, Granger," he advised, stroking her stomach under the water. "I thought you didn't believe in all that 'signs' nonsense."

"I don't," she agreed with a dejected sigh. "But the whole fate idea just seems like a nice concept at times like these."

He hated that word. Fate.

Otherwise known as the optimist's salvation. Or the pessimist's joke.

It didn't take a Seer to establish which group he belonged to.

"It's a bit too whimsical for you," he muttered, resting his chin against her head.

"Perhaps," she said, tracing tracks with her fingernails over his legs. "I'm glad I've talked about us with them though. I told Harry about my meeting with the press tomorrow-

"You didn't tell him I'd had a letter did you?" he stopped her. There was something rather unsettling about the Invincible Prat knowing he'd received the killer's ultimatum.

"No," she assured him. "I just said that we'd be telling the journalists about the letters we found to the victims. I hope that will be enough."

"Blaise and I were discussing the letters," he said, frowning when he felt her tense. "And no, I haven't mentioned yours to anyone before you ask."

"Did you tell him about yours?"

"Yes," he murmured against her hair. "Do you think anyone will come forward?"

"I hope so," she confessed, tilting her head to give his chest a small peck. "We're running out of options. I've asked Harry to continue observing that list you gave us. Other than that I don't know what else we can do."

"I might contact Warrington again to see if he's had any luck."

"That's a good idea," she approved, releasing a small moan when his fingers brushed her sensitive sides. "I need to go to the Auror Office after I talk to the press tomorrow, but I won't be too long."

"Alright," he said, moving his lips to her shoulder and ghosting barely-there kisses against her skin. "And you're sure you want to go back to work tomorrow?"

"I think it's pretty obvious we can't afford to take a day off," she pointed out, shifting so she could face him. "At least now I'm living with you we don't have to arrange times to work extra in the evenings and weekends."

"Sure," he rolled his sarcastic eyes at her. "That's the main advantage to this arrangement."

"I was just saying," she gave him a weak smile, leaning in to give his bottom lip a slow suck. "I think I'm ready for bed now."

.

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Hermione had released her statement to the press on Monday and had narrowly avoided a duel with Skeeter when the nosy woman had decided to push her buttons. Draco had been eating lunch with Blaise when he'd received an urgent owl from Tilly, warning him that his girlfriend had taken to hexing various objects in his office.

He'd extended his lunch by thirty minutes and had returned to find her sheepishly repairing the damage and muttering obscenities under her breath about his mother's intrusive friend. It was odd, but he had simply felt relieved that she was acting more like her argumentative and fiery self.

In was now Tuesday, and Draco was watching his lover closely as she examined Potter's account of Peregrine Derrick's actions in the last few days.

"I'm assuming by that look on your face that Potter hasn't seen anything useful?" he asked, setting down the Trace Reports for a moment.

"Not a thing," she said, clicking her tongue in disappointment. "I don't suppose you can think of anyone else?"

"No," he gave her a slight frown. "You know it isn't just the Slytherins who have blood prejudices, Granger. We all read about Stephen Cornfoot's involvement with an anti-Muggle group."

"Touché," she mumbled, cringing as she recalled that particular debacle. "Merlin, that was a shock."

"Exactly," he mocked her with knowing eyes. "Everyone's always so quick to assume it's a Slytherin. Don't you find it a bit odd that people are so quick to judge the house that are supposed to be judgemental? I hate hypocrites."

"Right," she grinned at his miniature rant. "We should break for lunch. Cambria sound okay?"

"Fine," he nodded, rising from his seat when they were interrupted by a knock at the door. "Come in."

"Sorry," Neville popped his head into the room. "Hermione, you should come to the Auror Offices."

"Is everything okay?" she asked, noticing that her old schoolmate didn't look particularly concerned. If anything, her fellow Auror looked rather cheerful.

"Promising news," he smiled at her. "A bloke just came in; said he's been getting the letters. I thought you might want to handle it-

"Yes!" she beamed, giving a little clap of triumph. "Of course, just keep him there and I'll be five minutes." Neville gave her a parting grin and she waited until he'd left before she literally jumped on Draco and smothered his mouth with a kiss laces with success.

"Pleased?" he smirked at her when she pulled away, clutching her thighs against his hips.

"I'm bloody ecstatic," she beamed against his lips. "Maybe things are looking up."

"Ever the optimist," he taunted, releasing her legs. "Do you want to wait for lunch then?"

"No, you go ahead," she told him, quickly gathering some of her belongings. "I have no idea how long this is going to take."

"I'll go to the Manor then," he decided, catching her bottom lip between his teeth for a second before she turned to leave. "Fill me in when you get back."

"Will do," she called over her shoulder as she hurried out the room.

He indulged in a private grin at her excited conduct but shook it off when he decided he was possibly being too...observant. He had shaken off a lot of thoughts and expressions recently, and he knew it meant he was becoming less guarded around her. Relationship or not, his Malfoy-esque cynicism and stoicism needed to remain in place. He would have to keep an eye on that.

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Lunch with his mother had been predictably irritating when the meddling woman had insisted on interrogating him, yet again, about his relationship with Ganger. When she had finally remembered that her son was hardly one for gushing sentimental sonnets, she had then gone on to ramble about her annual Christmas Party and had insisted he bring Hermione.

As if he would have brought someone else. Foolish woman.

He strolled back to his office, giving Tilly a small nod of greeting. "Is Granger back from the Auror Department yet?" he asked the older woman.

"No," she shook her head. "But Mafalda let some more Trace Reports for you."

"Fine," he muttered, scanning her desk with a frown when he realised how disorganised it was. "Any messages?"

"Just one for Hermione," she replied, rummaging through the chaos to find the appropriate note. "Some guy dropped in and left his details for her to get back to him."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Did he leave a name?"

"One second," she mumbled, smiling when her fingers latched around the small piece of parchment. "Here we go; yes, Graham Montague."

The blond's pale face instantly darkened and he felt the vein in his neck twitch. His lip curled in a silent snarl as the name made his brain swell with familiar fury, to the point that it physically hurt. His jaw clicked as he ground his teeth and he willed himself to take a calming breath.

But the calming breath evaded him, shrouded under the weight of the powerful anger. And it really did feel powerful; like liquid-quartz was flooding his pores. All he could think about was the sheer gall of Montague, and it was rising bile and dangerous thoughts.

"Mr. Malfoy," Tilly's voice snatched him back to reality for a second. "Are you okay? You look a little ill-

"Keep taking my messages," he told her, marching away with hard strides. "If Granger asks, I've gone out."

He didn't give his secretary a moment to reply as he charged through the Ministry with an expression like lava. He received a few odd looks but nobody questioned him or even dared to look at him as he headed to the Floo network. He near-roared his destination with a voice he barely recognised; Montague Manor.

He'd never been there before but he searched the rooms with an angry confidence that felt eerily familiar. Time didn't erode the rage but it was the eighth door that proved successful, and Graham Montague jumped when the blond intruder barged into the study. Draco cleared the room in the shadow of a second and pumped his fist into the other wizard's face, relishing the satisfying crunch and the gasp of pain.

"What the fuck do you think you are playing at?" he screamed, drawing his wand and pointing it at the fallen man.

"Malfoy," Graham muttered in calm tone, thumbing away the blood by his lip. "I'm assuming you intercepted my letter to Hermione-

"You don't say her name," he hissed, somehow keeping his wand hand steady like strict steel. "Ever. You don't look at her, you don't talk to her, and if you ever send her a letter again, I'll make sure your stay in St. Mungo's is permanent."

"Now, now," he replied, sounding far too cocky considering his current position. "You jump to conclusions, Malfoy. I can assure you that my letter was completely innocent-

"Bullshit!" he spat, swinging his leg to smack against Montague's ribs. "I don't know what your game is but you have a death-wish if you try and contact her again-

"I read about the letters in the paper," Graham interrupted him, not even bothering to try and rise from the floor. "I simply had a few inquiries-

"Let me see them then!" he demanded, preparing to fire some hexes when Graham risked a smirk. "Wipe that fucking look off your face, Montague! Show me your bloody letters-

"I never said I had any," he argued with a condescending tone that almost burned away the remains of Draco's tether. "I said I simply had some questions-

"Then you can ask one of the other bloody Aurors-

"I wanted to ask her," he interrupted with a blasé shrug. "But clearly her little bodyguard doesn't approve-

"Don't," he growled, flicking his wand for emphasis. "You knew exactly what you were doing-

"You always did have an overactive imagination, Malfoy-

"Levicorpus," he snarled, only holding the spell for a moment before allowing the the wizard to drop awkwardly on his neck. He was certain he had heard a significant snap, perhaps a shoulder dislocating, and he enjoyed the flinch of pain that stained Montague's face. "Even if you get some sodding letters, you will not contact her. I couldn't give a shit about you. In fact, I would pay half my inheritance to see you dealt with."

"That's a little harsh, Malfoy," he stuttered through the pain at the back of his voice. "And just when everyone had thought you were a changed man-

"Shut it!" Draco yelled, tightening his hold on his weapon. "I know you are involved in all this, Montague! And the second I find out how, I'm dragging your arse to Azkaban-

"There's that imagination again-

"Impedimenta!" Malfoy shouted, forcing enough of his magic into the spell to give Graham a solid shock-wave to his gut. "Stop interrupting me! I've warned you; don't go near her, or I'll be back with some head-fuck curses that will send you crawling back to your little mentally-deranged cell."

"Merlin knows w-what she sees in you," Montague barely managed to choke over his wounded abdomen.

Draco considered shooting another hex at the injured man, but the sadistic sliver that had yet to be erased from his blood decided that he had always savoured the slick sound of rubber clapping against flesh.

He gave Graham a succulent and rewarding kick to the face that coaxed a loud yelp from the other wizard. He couldn't stop the smirk that pulled at his mouth. It was what he had wanted; and now he could leave. Satisfied.

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"Where have you been?" Hermione almost pounced on him when he returned to his office. "I was starting to worry."

"I just had a couple of things to sort out," he told her, pausing his walk to his seat when she grabbed his hand. "What?"

"Are you alright?" she asked as he leaned against the desk. "You look a little spaced out."

"I'm fine," he nodded, initiating a quick but heated kiss that seemed to chase away her curiosity. "So," he prompted as he pulled away and sat in his chair. "What happened with the person who came in about the letters?"

"Oh, yes," she said with an intellectual smile. "You'll never guess who it was."

"You want to play a guessing game with some lad who has been receiving death threats?" he cocked an eyebrow at her. "That's a bit sinister of you, Granger."

He realised there was a dash of irony there, but it was rather delicious.

"Okay, fine," she sighed. "It was Terrence Higgs."

"Seriously?" Draco's eyes widened slightly. "He was always a decent bloke actually. I'm surprised the killer would think he would join an anti-Muggle group."

"So was Terrence," she revealed. "He's coming back in tomorrow with the rest of his letters but from what I can see they're definitely from the same guy. Neville's sorting out some protection methods for him now."

"Did he say anything useful?"

"Nothing we don't already know," she sounded disappointed, picking up her quill to commence her work. "I forgot to ask, did I get any messages while I was out of the office?"

The lie came so easily without a slice of guilt.

"No," he said, stealing a slow second just to study her. "No, you're fine."

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a/n: Okay so no cliffy this time! Sad times because I loves me a cliffy! They always seem to gain more reviews! Oh yay on 400 reviews by the way! And the 150+ people who added this to their faves. It's a massive compliment considering this is my first Dramione.

We're coming close to the end now... And that feels a little...odd. I considered getting sentimental but I figured drinking more wine would be more beneficial.

Lend me your thoughts on the chapter please. And if anyone has any questions, ask away!

Massive thanks to stolen. stars who took the time and effort to go back and review a bunch of chapters. Thank you so much, it was very sweet of you!

So, yes...you know what to do...

Next chapter: Have yourself a Malfoy little Christmas...but not all the Christmas surprises are welcome...