a/n: This chapter has undergone a thorough revision! I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything is J.K. Rowling's.
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~ The Crotalus Case ~
2. Right place, right time.
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''So, this is what the big boys' office looks like? I have to say, coming from you, Malfoy, I expected something… else.''
Draco huffed, and leant his hip against the side of the mahogany desk.
It'd been almost two years since he'd last seen his old friend from Hogwarts. Partly, it was because of the sudden exorbitant workload which had fallen upon Draco's shoulders after he'd taken on the family business, effectively isolating him from most of his already scarce social engagements. But mainly, it was because Blaise Zabini had taken a difficult blow when his mother had been sentenced to life in Azkaban, after two years of constantly undermining the Ministry and disobeying the D.L.E.'s orders.
The young wizard had abandoned the country not long after that, not even bothering to leave a message for his old peers – or remaining family, for that matter – explaining what he would do, or where he'd go.
To be honest, Draco wouldn't have either. Were that to happen to his own mother, he was fairly certain no one would ever listen to his voice or lay eyes upon him ever again. Not in their country, at least. So, even if Blaise's distancing had seemed a little excessive at first, he'd soon realized it was probably the best thing for him.
''And what hole have you come out of?'' He said, as he crossed his arms over his chest.
Blaise chuckled. He unclasped his elegant robes, and casually sprawled across one of the leather sofas crowning the sitting area. Draco remained on his spot; he was trying to be cautious. However, it was hard to watch the wizard in front of him, whom he'd considered a close friend for many years, and not lower his guard completely.
''Well, you see, I've been around, seen the world, met some interesting people, all that nonsense.''
''I see.''
''But now–'' Blaise lifted his arms to the sides and gestured to himself. '' –I'm back.''
''And here I thought I'd taken a quick foray to Italy.'' Sarcasm dripped off Draco's words.
Blaise smiled tightly. ''Ah, I've missed you Drake.''
''Obviously.''
''I'm glad to see you're still in your old spirits. That 'defeated and complying' show you used to put up for the Ministry was harrowing to watch.''
Something about the way Blaise spoke was making him bloody uncomfortable. Perhaps it was the way the words slithered slowly out of his lips, like he was picking them out with extreme care and musing on them before he spoke, or maybe it was the way his mouth was drawn into a permanent, empty smirk. Draco couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but he knew how uneasy it was making him feel.
''I'm trying to decide whether you came all this way for flattery or for insult.''
''For cajolery.''
''So you are trying to seduce me.''
''You could say that.'' Blaise answered, his gaze jumping to the crumpled newspaper on the table in front of him.
A tense silence took over the room. Draco shifted on his spot discreetly; there was no need to show Blaise how uncomfortable he was. He wasn't sure what the wizard was there for, but every moment that passed he realized he could recognize less his school peer and was finding a totally different wizard talking to him.
''I have a message for you, Drake.'' Blaise's words snapped him out of his thoughts. Draco's eyebrows rose so high he almost pulled his scalp.
''A message from whom?''
''That, is a very good question.'' As he answered, Blaise twirled his dark wand around his fingers. ''One, with no answer, unfortunately. At least not for now.''
Draco scoffed. ''No answer? Don't toy with me, Zabini. You know I have no patience.''
''Do you not care for the message?''
''Should I?''
By that point of the conversation, Draco was still stuck in the casual position against the desk, his arms tightly crossed over his chest.
Draco was considered an imposing wizard, to say the least. His tall and lean complexion gave him an air of elegant menace which not many wizards dared to challenge, and not many witches could resist. His sharp features and cold quicksilver eyes were often a deterrent enough for any brave person willing to challenge him in any way. He was very aware of the tension building up inside of him, but before he was anything else, he was a Slytherin. An any Slytherin new that displaying too much emotion was providing an easy target. Especially against an equal.
So he faked an air of nonchalance and crossed one of his ankles over the other. Blaise stared him up and down with narrowed eyes.
''Now now, Drake. No need to get so serious.'' The dark-skinned Slytherin placed one of his arms over the back of the sofa without taking his eyes off Draco. ''There's nothing for you to worry about.''
''There better not be.''
Blaise chuckled.
''It calls to my attention how closely you've been working with the Government for the past few months. Are you still the Ministry's lapdog, mate?''
''I'm nobody's fucking lapdog.'' Draco snarled. Unconsciously, his gaze jumped to the copy of the Prophet, resting on top of his desk.
''Good. I wouldn't want to think I can't trust you.''
Draco huffed. This was the slowest most frustrating conversation he'd had in a very long time. He couldn't wait for it to be over.
''What do you need to trust me for? Been up to anything shifty lately, Zabini?''
''I'm always up to something shifty.''
''You'd better not be doing something stupid.''
''Nothing stupid. I'm doing what needs to be done.''
''What does that fucking mean?''
''Careful Draco; you're showing.'' Blaise's words were almost a whisper, but for some reason, they resonated in Draco's ears like deafening roars. He flinched. He was very aware of the thrumming pulse on his forehead, and the warmth of his lightly sweaty palms.
''Zabini, either say something relevant or piss off to make some other wanker waste his time.''
''Your language is ghastly.''
''Your nerve is, too.'' Draco growled, unconsciously uncrossing his arms. He felt stiff, but he knew he looked swift. Had he been in different circumstances, Draco would've already angrily punched his desk more than a few times.
Blaise chuckled, amused, and the coldness in his voice had Draco deepening his scowl. His thoughts were taking a very dangerous turn, traveling ver fast in directions which he'd long ago sworn to leave behind; to forget for good.
''Blaise. What. Do. You. Want.'' Draco stressed.
''I just wanted to come here myself and see you–'' Blaise started, as he pushed himself up on the sofa and swiftly leapt to his feet. '' –see if you still believe in what you ardently did before, or if all this – '' he gestured around him with disdain ''– has finally managed to brainwash Draco Malfoy out of you.''
Draco didn't answer; Zabini's words falling on him like a heavy weight.
''I'll tell you what. Let's have a drink tonight, Drake. We can catch up, and we can discuss some... things in a little more depth. Perhaps I'll even finally get to give you the message.''
''Depending on what?'' Draco huffed.
''On how much fun you show me you can have, of course.''
As he spoke, Blaise grabbed his dark, heavy robes. They were almost the same height, but Draco towered a little over him. The wizard stood in front of him and raised an eyebrow, challengingly. Draco noticed his chin was risen a little.
He acted like he mused on it, but he'd known his answer before Blaise had even posed the question.
''The Wicked Warlock. 8pm sharp. I'm a busy wizard, Zabini.''
''Oh, believe me, I know.''
''G'Afternoon mate! Welcome to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes! Anything I can do for ya?''
The chirpy sound of the clerk's voice was almost completely drowned by the rush of the afternoon hours. Hordes of people were excitedly making their way into the shop and taking over every corner of the place. Their vicious hands grabbed at everything they could find, in the effort to avoid anyone else to get ahead of them.
It was a particularly busy day, as every Friday tended to be. Kids were running around, stacking up as may items as their small arms could hold; enough jokes to last them until the end of term and get them through the boring routine of daily classes and schoolwork.
''Yes, actually! I was wondering if Mr Weasley is in today?''
The wizard who'd just entered the building stood out among the crow of children and young teenagers which surrounded him. A heavy, dark cloak hung around his shoulders, and a small, elegant hat crowned his messy, charcoal hair, discreetly hiding away the recognizable green shade of his eyes. As soon as the hat was off his head, the clerk gasped indiscreetly.
''Merlin's beard! I mean – Yes sir; eh…'' The young man nervously fidgeted as he stammered out his answer. ''I can – I can look f-for him if you wish…'' Slightly uncomfortable, Harry shifted his weight and nodded lightly.
''That's fine, yeah.''
''Blimey!'' The wizard's head shot up as he heard a hoot coming from above his head ''Is that Mr Harry-Big-Fish-Potter? Where've you been hiding at, mate?''
Ron Weasley stood on a flight of stairs which hovered over the entrance to the shop; his tousled, ginger hair sneaking into his face, where a wide grin had slipped its way. He hopped off the last steps and put on of his arms around Harry in a bulky, half-hug, both patting each other's backs.
''What's with the hat? You look like Fudge in the 80's!'' Ron clapped Harry's shoulder affectionately and turned towards the young clerk. ''Thanks for your help Tony, I think I'll take it from here.''
The boy nodded energetically and grinned at Harry before taking off in a haste.
''Will that ever stop happening?''
'' 'Tis unlikely. I bet it's gotten worse since you became Head.'' The redhead answered, as they made their way up the various flights of stairs. Along the way, a few wizkind stopped what they were doing and ogled at them. ''The hat doesn't help.''
''Merlin, Ron, you really don't like it at all.''
''I'm just teasing you, mate.''
They entered an office located at the end of a long corridor on the upper floor. Ron beamed at Harry, as he looked around the new space. Apparently, it'd gone through renovations, because it was bigger than it used to be and its decoration had changed drastically, too. The wooden floors were covered in funky carpets threaded in orange and yellow. At the back of the room there was a bulky fitment which took up the entire wall. It was a huge display cabinet which was covered in shelves from top to bottom. Resting on the shelves was what seemed like the whole inventory of W.W.W. gadgets. About six different lamps hung from the ceiling, their odd shapes casting funny shadows all over the place as they swung.
''Woah, has it really been so long since I've come here?''
Ron shrugged. ''Just a few months, but it was 'bout time you did. You were the last one to see it finished!''
Harry's smile fell a little. He'd been so busy the past weeks that he'd completely forsaken most of his friends, and had forgotten to check up on them and their novelties. Feeling slightly chapfallen, he shook his head and patted Ron on the back.
''Well, I'm glad business is doing so great.''
''Yeah, me too. It seems like everyone could still use a laugh, specially after yesterday's events.''
A heavy silence took over the room momentarily. Harry sighed heavily and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger. Just for a moment, the buzzing energy in the shop, and Ron's lively attitude had almost taken his mind off the case. Now the weight of the events pressed heavily on his shoulders once more.
''Actually, that's what I came here to talk about.''
''I figured as much, yeah.''
Ron leant back against a simple wooden desk, resting his hands on both his sides. He could sense Harry's anxiety from a mile away, his quick breaths and tired eyes, hiding almost entirely under a deep frown, so uncharacteristic of him.
''I'll save you the details. Actually, I'll just postpone talking about them. You might actually get the fill of it in a few days.''
''You lost me there, mate.''
''Well, I happened to see Hermione yesterday afternoon; we bumped into each other at the Ministry.''
''Yeah, okay. So?''
''Well, we talked for a while, about the case– amongst other things. She asked to join the case, to work with me at the D.L.E.''
''Oh! For real?''
''Yeah. The office… we're not doing as well as we'd like. I thought that her help might be invaluable in this situation. Her big brain does come in really handy.'' Ron chuckled and Harry smiled tightly in response, taking a seat on one of the wooden chairs facing his friend. ''That said, I came here to ask you if you'd be willing to join it too.''
''You're kidding?''
''Well –'' The wizard rubbed his hands together awkwardly, and leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees ''–obviously I know this is very sudden, and I know you have your own obligations with the shop…''
Ron's incredulous laugh interrupted him.
''Blimey Harry! You actually think there's a chance I'll say no?''
''Well, yes.''
''Then you're bloody barmy.''
Harry let out a breathless laugh. ''I'd understand, you know.''
''Well, I wouldn't. We're a team, Harry. I know I haven't 'Mione's brain, but I'll help in whatever way I can.''
Ron leant forward and lifted his hand, to which Harry answered quickly clasping his own with it. Even in their circumstances, even though the task which lay ahead of them was frightening and vertiginous, the permanent knot on his stomach loosened slightly when he felt Ron's strong grip on his arm.
''Thanks, Ron.''
''Come on, this calls for a celebratory drink.'' The redhead spoke cheerfully and clapped his hands together as he walked around his desk. He bent over to open the last drawer, taking out a bottle of Firewhiskey and grabbing a couple of glasses from a small table at the far left corner of the office.
He poured the liquor into them, handed one to Harry, and rose the other in the air.
''To the three of us, together again, against all odds.''
''And to peace in the Wizarding World'' Added Harry.
''Yeah, that too.''
Mione:
I spoke with Ron; he's in. I finally spoke to Ginny, too.
You're all impossible.
See you tonight at the WW, 7.30
Love,
H.J.P.
Hermione read the letter quickly and scribbled a short answer on its back, folding it and handing it to the owl perched on the low hanger which sat at the entrance of her small, Ministry office.
''Right, so there's that…'' She mumbled absentmindedly, as she searched around the room for whatever she could be forgetting to take with her.
There was a big, cardboard box sitting on one of the rusty wooden chairs before her desk, filled to the brim with her personal items and a series of thick volumes, from Magical Beings & Beasts to Wizarding Law & Regulations and more. Hermione bit her lip pensively, hands resting on her hips, as she made a mental list of everything she recalled having in the room.
When she'd finished triple-checking, she took a few moments to take it all in.
When this was all over, she'd come back. She'd resume her work, get back to normal, hide away in her small corner office and go back to how it used to be: fighting battles behind the scenes, invisible, as she'd wanted to remain ever since the War had ended.
As for right now, Harry needed her help. Hermione herself needed to help. She needed to feel useful again. She hadn't had a good night's sleep for weeks, and she'd had a tight knot permanently settled in her stomach for longer than she could remember. And she didn't know if jumping headfirst into all the mess would be the cure for that; but she was hopeful it would be. Very hopeful. Since practically nothing else had seemed to do the job so far.
With a last glance around, Hermione let out a long breath, cast a Weightless Charm on the box and decisively carried it out of her workstation and towards the lifts.
A couple of hours later, she Apparated right at the front door to the Wicked Warlock; a discreet –and seldom crowded– pub just outside of Diagon Alley, in which reporters were thankfully strictly banned from entering. Thankful for the mild temperature that day, Hermione slid her light jacket off her pack and made her way into the bar.
The warm and quiet atmosphere made her relax instantly, her shoulders dropping slightly, her senses giving into the low buzz of banal conversation and the sour smell of butterbeer. When she was further inside, she scanned the tables looking for her friends, and quickly spotted two very orange heads popping out of a booth at the back of the room.
'' 'Mione! You made it!''
''Hey Hermione!''
''Hi guys!''
The witch contentedly plopped down on one of the empty chairs and stretched her hand out towards Ginny, who sat between her brother and Harry. Hermione groaned out loud as she realized how long it'd been since she'd last bothered to visit her friend, or even send her an owl. ''Merlin, Ginny, it's so good to see you, and yes, you may hate me. I'm sorry, I'm such a terrible friend, it's been so long…''
''Oh Hermione, fortunately for you, a few weeks without contact is hardly enough to get rid of me! Also–'' she added, tossing her hair away from her face in a quick motion.''– I'll have you know, if it were up to Headstrong-Potter over here, we wouldn't even have met in the first place. So, basically, you're welcome.''
As the redhead spoke –and Hermione thanked Circe for the good spirits Ginny was always in– she spied Harry's loving stare resting on her friend's face. She shook her head slowly and felt a small smile creep up on her own lips.
Harry suddenly frowned and lifted his hands in the air indignantly. ''Well, you see, there is a national crisis currently taking place; I didn't feel like going out for a drink would be the smartest choice, especially in my position!''
''That's exactly why we're sitting here, having a drink right now. You need to lift a little bit of weight off your shoulders or you're going to go completely mad. Besides, I'm leaving for Ireland tomorrow. Surely you weren't going to let me go without a proper good-bye?''
Harry rolled his eyes, and Hermione laughed.
''Gin, you're such a bully. You remind me of Hermione when she used to try and blackmail us into behaving in class.'' After he spoke, Ron was unable to avoid the quick punch that Hermione threw upon his upper arm. ''Ouch, 'started training already, have you?''
''Oh, believe me Ronald, you'll know when I do!''
''Don't call me Ronald!''
''Then don't call me a bully!''
''Technically, he called me a bully. But you go 'Mione.'' Interjected Ginny, a playful grin plastered on her face. Hermione snorted.
After an hour of easygoing conversation and loud laughs, Hermione rested her empty glass on the table and stood up, suddenly feeling the urge to use the restroom. Her lengthy brown curls swayed lightly behind her as she walked around her chair and spoke.
''I'm going to the ladies'. I'll be right back.''
Her friends nodded, already deep in new conversation, and Hermione absentmindedly made her way towards the back of the pub.
Lost in thought, she was almost all the way across the building when some quiet, hasty talking caught her attention. She knew her senses weren't at their sharpest –butterbeer had its effects, after all– but she thought it sounded like the kind of conversation that wasn't meant to be heard by outsiders. It stunk of secrets and mischief, and Hermione couldn't help herself. Her curiosity got the best of her, driving her to silently walk over to the private room at the back of the pub.
The door was slightly ajar, though judging on how old and bumpy its rusty wood was, she figured it wasn't intentional.
Casting a Muffliato on herself, Hermione scooted closer and leant her back on the wall closest to the opening.
''You can't be serious''
''Come on, Drake. You're lying if you say you haven't thought about it at all after the war.''
Hermione's eyes widened lightly. Drake. Wasn't that… what Draco Malfoy's friends used to call the Slytherin when they were in school? Her frown deepened as she leaned further in and tried to grasp what the wizards were saying.
''I bloody well haven't. Nor am I planning to. I can't believe you're stupid enough to have been lured into this crap, again'' The words were spat violently, out of what Hermione could only assume was Draco Malfoy's mouth. His voice was deeper than it used to be. But then again, Hermione hadn't heard him speak in four years.
''Except, there aren't actually any sides, Drake. It isn't like before. Come on, you remember what it felt like, right? To hold so much power over them?''
Hermione's breath caught in her throat. The words were sharp, like knives. They certainly felt as if they were as they buried themselves in Hermione chest in painful stabs. She was listening to something dangerous; threatening and forbidden. A sense of immediate threat started to grow quickly inside of her. She tightened her hand around her wand, her knuckles turning white with the strength of her grasp, and closed her eyes as she took a couple of calming breaths.
Suddenly, the wizards quieted down and Hermione stopped hearing what they were saying. Nerves making her skin prickle all over, but the rush of adrenaline travelling through her veins making her unable to stop, she took a chance and leant even closer, enough to be able to peek inside the room.
She almost positively had a heart attack when the door was suddenly pulled back. Having less than a millisecond's time to react, she cast the fastest Disillusionment Charm she'd cast in her life, and barely escaped what would've been a mortifying and potentially threatening situation.
Out of the room came Blaise Zabini, followed closely by a scowling Draco Malfoy.
It'd been a very long time since she'd seen the blond Slytherin up close. He'd grown taller, now towering more than a foot over her own height. His face was different, too; still impossibly angular and ghostly pale, but there was a new harshness to it. His jaw was wider, his cheekbones sharper. A few strands of frosty blond hair fell over his eyes. Something about the way he pressed his lips together, and clenched the muscles in his neck, made Hermione feel slightly uneasy.
She didn't realize how intently she was staring at him, until his angry glare fell suddenly on her face. Her breathing halted, her eyes widened, and her pulse jumped into a dangerous gallop as she looked back into his quicksilver eyes. She would've sworn he could see her; she would've sworn his mercury eyes were trying to melt the freckles off her face.
That's impossible, Hermione. You have a disillusionment charm on you. He can't see you. He can't.
Less than a second went before the wizard turned and he was back to glaring daggers at the back of Blaise Zabini's neck, but to Hermione it'd seemed like an eternity. Trying to relax, she lifted a hand to her chest and hoped it wasn't her heart trying to jump out of her ribcage that would give away her intrusion.
With one last suspicious look around, the two Slytherins strode solemnly towards the back exit of the Wicked Warlock.
Without giving it a second thought, Hermione followed them.
Author's notes: I'll have you know I won't keep this update pace up forever… it's only because of the current situation, lockdown and all that jazz. I hope you don't resent me when I get back to my normal update schedule, and I hope you and your families are all doing well.
Anyways, you know reviews are more than welcome. I hope you liked the chapter.
Much love and stay home and safe!
Charlize68P
PS: The Crotalus is a type of rattlesnake.
Casual reminder: I borrowed the word Wizardkind and shortened it to wizkind in order to refer to magical people, so that I don't have to write witches and wizards every time.