Chapter Twenty-Eight

Bait

Hermione swore that she wasn't trying to commit suicide. She said that as long as there was a possible future for them she would fight for it. However, Draco was having serious doubts about her sincerity when she was putting herself out there as bait.

While they were in their current hiding place in England, in a cellar of an old building he told her, "keep relaxed. You belong there. You're a Pureblood. You're better than everyone else."

She had nodded nervously, her entire being shaking. He kissed her on her lips, albeit harder than he meant to, and told her that she would be fine, more harshly than he intended.

By his station around a corner obstructed by the shadows of the next tall building he watched with a skeptical eye. Hermione was sitting at a white wicker table under a large yellow umbrella outside of an old-fashioned cafe, her hair back, her hood up, her face down.

It was odd clothing in such a lovely place, one of the few left and only because it was meant for Purebloods to begin with. It was Knockturn alley met Buckingham Palace. So Hermione's outfit was not out of character, everyone around her wore the same. Even the most elite Purebloods feared for their life.

However, he groaned while he surveyed her. She was shaking too much. She was too tensed. She was breathing too hard. He took one step forward to pull her out. He knew he should have done this himself. Hermione wasn't more Pureblood than he was a Muggleborn. He would have gone in himself, but she was resilient in the prospect that it should be her, that they didn't know her as well.

He still didn't like it. Not one bit. There were too many snags for the way they were exposing themselves. It was in the worst way.

He remembered an hour before they had apparated out there (increasingly difficult when a person felt as though they were beaten by a Troll, the real cause of sleeping on a concrete floor). It was all the reasons he was sure they were going to die...

"At least let me change the color of your hair, Hermione!"

She threw up her hands and crossed them in front of her chest. He hated to admit that she looked very cute when she was angry, the way her face contorted in disgust almost reminded him of himself. "You can only change the color of your hair sparingly, Draco. Or else it has some side-effects."

"Like what," he challenged. He knew better than to do that, Hermione always had an answer for everything. She was worse than a walking dictionary, she was a walking encyclopedia.

"Like turning a different color than you want. Like orange, or blue."

"We'll deal with those colors, it's better than being recognized for your natural color."

She laughed emptily. "You don't think anyone would wonder why your hair was like that? They're going to know you did that spell wrong, and then they're going to wonder what you're hiding."

He rolled his eyes. All of her comebacks were ridiculous and he came close to laughing. Not always the best option to do with Hermione angry. She slapped him last time, and her strength was better now than it was then. "Not everyone is as clever as you, love."

"We shouldn't take chances!"

That was true. He was defeated. He lost. To Hermione. One out of the many times he had and would lose to her. He refused to think that it was because she was smarter than him though deep down he knew that to be true. It was better than the alternative, that he was getting weaker.

And so there he stood, wand in grasp, waiting edgy as a hooded man came forth, sitting across from her.

The show had begun.

***

Hermione was measuring her breaths accordingly. Even from the distance they were she could feel the disapproval wave off of Draco. She knew he questioned her reasons for why she was putting herself out there, but that unknown reason was simple... If it wasn't her that was bait, it would be him and that would be too dangerous. He was the traitor, and that was just as bad as being a Mudblood, if not more so. They would kill him on the spot, and she wouldn't and couldn't lose him. Not like that.

Peeking only slightly out of her hood she took a good look around again. It was hard to believe what she was seeing. She didn't know places like this existed in the magical world. There was no rubble, no rebuilding. There were buildings (most void) of cheerful white and blue, the sun shining down on the cobblestone streets. However it didn't remain a fairytale. There were too many dark cloaks, too many hoods up. She didn't know that even the loyal of Purebloods were hiding in a town that was theirs. It was sad in its own way.

Her and Draco had taken refuge in the far most abandoned building. No one would guess that they would choose to be in a town that they were in danger the most which he was hoping would make them safer.

Her eyes connected with the corner she knew he was watching from, unseen. She directed her gaze quickly away. He would reprimand that for her later. In fact, he would reprimand her for many things she was certain she was doing wrong. She was never a great actress. Ginny would be much better in her place, but Ginny wasn't alive to help. It was up to her, and Draco. The most unsuspecting pairing there was.

The plan was simple though. They just wanted to know who had taken Rodopolus' place and where. Once they knew, perhaps they could take an appropriate action. Of course it would involve lying, possible kidnapping, and certainly murder. Draco wouldn't let the person live.

A cloaked person stopped in front of her. He bent a little at the waist as if trying to see under her hood. She dipped her head lower. She thought she heard that person chuckled, and by the deepness, the rasping, she knew it was a man.

Unable to contain herself she glimpsed to the corner. Could he hear her heart all the way over there?

The man picked up the chair across from her turning it around so its back was against his chest. He chuckled again. "Your boyfriend is very predictable."

She shifted nervously. "I don't know what you mean."

This time he laughed. He laughed so hard that she jumped and searched her surroundings for on-lookers, but there was none. There were five people walking past them, two at the far end and none of them dared to check where the laughter was coming from.

"Jumpy, aren't you?"

"No," she lied horribly and expected the man to laugh again, but he surprised her and didn't. Instead he leaned forward as she leaned back, and he whispered as she held her breath.

"I don't mean to frighten you, but I'm glad you are. You should be afraid. You're the only one here that has enough gall to be alone. Or at least looking like she's alone. Now, tell me, where is your boyfriend?"

"There is no boyfriend," she said with a shaky voice.

He hissed, low inside the darkness of his hood. "Don't lie to me, mud -" He sucked in a breath. "I know who you are."

A chill cascaded down her spine like ice. If he truly knew who she was then she didn't stand a chance. "Then kill me."

"I don't want to kill you though perhaps you should die for your ignorance! I never thought the Gryffindor brain would be out here in a Pureblood town much less with my best mate. You are putting yourself at risk along with him. What is it you want?"

His words stumbled in her head. He didn't want to kill her, she was with his best mate. None of that made sense. He couldn't be Draco's best friend. Theo was dead. She saw his finger in Draco's hand. This man had to be lying.

"Tell me," he said once more. "What is it you want? What will get you out of here?"

She leaned forward keeping her head down. "Who's leading?"

There was that chuckle. "Draco Malfoy."

She mentally staggered again. Maybe the man was a lunatic, he didn't know what he was talking about. "That can't be."

"He's the single heir to Rodophlus. He has alluded death many times. It is said that he killed all those Death Eaters at the manor. He is as valued as much as Voldemort was." The man said all this with reverence, of excitement. "Of course, they don't know he's traveling with you. When he didn't come for you, they thought that he was more loyal, that he had a plan to take Rodopholus' throne."

Her mind struggled to gather footing and she forgot who she was pretending to be. "They won't want him when he knows he's with me."

"They won't," he contested. "They'll kill him. That's why you have to step down. You have to let him take over."

She glimpsed up, her eyes boring into the shadows of the face she couldn't see. "He won't take over..."

"He has to. This is our only chance at survival! It's chaos, Death Eaters are now killing each other!"

This is perfect, she thought. This might be their way out. They wouldn't have to kill anyone, they could go back to Greece and take back their daughter.

The ache in her chest flared when she thought of Harriet, her coal black hair and cobalt blue eyes, her ringing laughter. "Then let them kill each other off," she said in reaction, but meant every word.

The man sighed, plopping back in his chair. "Is anything ever that simple? Weak Death Eaters are going into hiding. This won't stop unless we get Draco. He can summon them. They'll all come. All you have to do is go away."

For what must have been the tenth time, she gazed into the shade. Draco was better than Rodopholus and a million times better than Voldemort. She could imagine a younger Draco dreaming about being in Voldemort's position, and though it sent a shiver through her she thought about the Draco she loved now. Which dream did he hold most dear? The ones of his past, or the ones he wanted with her?

She gasped, her eyes snapping forward at the man when he reached over and grabbed her hands. He held them tightly, his finger digging between the bones. "Please," he begged. "If you really loved him, you would leave!"

"We're in this together," she said quietly but forcefully to this stranger.

"You can't go with him!"

She tried to see his face, bending close to him. She wanted to know... "Who are you?"

"If I tell you, will you tell me where Draco is before you leave?"

"No. I won't."

He cocked his head to the side as if he was amused by her response. "Bloody hell," he breathed in shock, dropping her hands. "You really love him, don't you?"

"I do," she smiled it showing through in her tone, she could feel that as well as the contusions on her hand. She rubbed them.

"You two have a death wish," he responded.

She laughed, she didn't know why, perhaps because in her case it was once true. However her personal joke was cut short.

Over the man's shoulder she saw movement in the shadows of the corner. Draco came out. Anger emitted from him and for a moment she was scared, then realized that she wasn't scared for herself, but for the man in front of her for whoever he was, Draco was going to kill... That was the plan... Killing the man that gave them the information.

What if this man was telling the truth? What if he was Theodore Nott? What if Draco killed his best mate?

***

Draco's wand nearly cracked in his hold as he watched Hermione get closer to the man. He thought he'd lose it when that man took his wife's hands and worse yet he wasn't hurting her, she wasn't fighting, it was almost like he was... Helping her. He didn't know what was worse, helping her, or trying to kill her. Because one was unnatural, not what they expected.

Who in the hell was this man? Was he even a Death Eater? Why was he wasting their time? More to the point, why was Hermione speaking to him? Why were they talking so long. It had to be three minutes.

When her shoulders shook with a laugh he had enough. He was going to find out. But first he would clear the area of the fearful stragglers.

He walked out of the darkness his wand raised in front of him. A woman squealed as with a "pop" she apparated away as did the others. He saw the owners of the cafe hide behind their counter. He saw a golden-haired child being pulled behind the counter as well.

He walked straight up to the man in the chair, Hermione standing and running up to him, her hands pressing on his chest attempting to push him back. What was she doing? She was saying something, but all he could do was focus on the man who had touched her so friendly. He pushed her to the side.

"Draco! No! Don't! Not yet!"

The man hadn't even turned around. What kind of person was he? Draco dug his wand into his back. He hoped he caused pain to him if not surprise which Hermione had already ruined.

"Tell me your name," he demanded of him.

"It's been Rabbit for years. Damn it, dragon, we don't have a spare wand, loosen up there, mate."

Frozen wasn't enough to describe Draco then. He wondered briefly if they were all dead but quickly negated that. They couldn't be dead, there wasn't enough pain to suggest so. That only left one option open, but dare he think? Was his friend actually alive?

Finally the man stood and faced him. He pulled back the sides of his hood a smile spreading across the face of his friend.

Theodore Nott was alive. If the world hadn't been knocked off its axis before it did then. Draco swore the whole earth jerked beneath him, worse than those Muggle cages.

***

Theo pulled his hood back in its place. Hermione pulled in a gust of air that she had been denying herself since Draco had frozen, his wand still raised. She put a hand over his lowering it to his side.

"Do you think he went into shock," Theo asked waving a hand in front of his face.

She shook her head. "I don't know." She touched Draco's cheek not receiving a response. "Draco? Dragon, please answer me. Are you cold? Hungry?"

After several long moments he directed his gaze to her, his eyes shedding the clouds in the slightest considering they already looked like storms. "He's alive," was all he said.

"Come on," Theo told her grabbing Draco's arm waving his hand for her to do the same. "I have loads to tell you two and this isn't the place to do it."

"We can go to our cellar," she offered.

He shook his head. "No, I'm taking you to my house. I can bet it's a lot more comfortable."

She had no doubts about that. The cellar was just that, a cellar. No furniture. Nothing. It was cold and damp, and though she would never tell Draco she found it filled of memories of her time in the Manor. She desperately tried to set those away, but last night she shivered, not from the cold as he had thought when he wrapped his arms tighter around her, but because she thought of his uncle, the close call...

"Ready," Theo warned before they apparated.