Surprise! An update at long last!
Please read this before continuing With help from my fantastic beta CatherineMorgenstern I've spent the last few months going over the previous chapters and correcting all of my grammar mistakes and tidying up the writing. it's now much less offensive to read. Crookshanks has also been added to the story (I can't believe I forgot him in the first place!) so don't be surprised when he suddenly appears, yet another reason to be thankful to Catherine.
Now that's out of the way, on with the story. Enjoy!
"I should be able to harvest the Belladonna tonight," Neville said, interrupting Hermione's thoughts.
"What?"
"The Belladonna? I'm going to use it to help disguise the bitterness." Neville tapped his quill against the parchment in front of him. "Have you been listening?"
"Of course I have!" She gave him a slightly affronted look.
"Sorry! I just...you seem distracted."
Hermione grimaced. "I am. How can I not be? A Death Eater killed Creevy and we don't know why or how. The Ministry is going to start pulling in the Death Eaters any day now. I still haven't figured out how to make the contracts binding without the Ministry finding out. And getting them signed is going to be a nightmare! Not to mention, we still don't know if we'll be able to use the elves to deliver the poison in the first place!"
Luna came up behind Neville and looped her arms around his neck. "And she still needs to clear up her confusion over Barty."
"Oh?"
Hermione flushed red under Neville and Luna's stare. "There is no confusion. There's nothing." She dropped her gaze to the parchment in pretend interest. "Let's just do one thing at a time, okay? First the poison. When will it be ready?"
"Five days."
"And the antidote?"
"It's still steeping." Neville frowned as he did a quick calculation. "Give it a week."
Luna smiled in delight. "It'll be ready on our wedding day! It can be our gift to you, Hermione."
"The guests are supposed to give gifts to the bride and groom, Luna, not the other way around," she replied in a wry voice.
"We don't need gifts." Luna turned her head to press a soft kiss to Neville's cheek. "We have each other."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You two are nauseating."
Neville had the grace to look embarrassed, but Luna grinned and draped herself more firmly around his shoulders. Just as she began to nibble his earlobe, the kettle behind them started to whistle and bellow out smoke that smelled of mint and wet mud.
"Will you stay for some tea?" Luna asked Hermione.
"I should really get back. I'm supposed to meet Draco in a little while." She rubbed at her rumpled brow, trying and failing, to smooth away the tension. "Have you written an outline for the contract yet?"
When there was no reply, Hermione looked up to see Neville spinning Luna around the kitchen in a dance to music only they could hear. Honestly, they were impossible! Seeing Luna and Neville together was like witnessing a romance novel spring to life. They looked at each other with gentle eyes and moved around the kitchen in a coordinated dance that Hermione could only watch with envy. Every touch and glance spoke of their love and every word was filled with a warmth that she was embarrassed to witness. No, that wasn't true. It wasn't embarrassment, but sadness she felt. Barty would never say sweet things to her. His words were like spikes that sought to rip through all her vulnerabilities and his probing stare was so sharp, she still felt its force long after he'd left the room. There was no warmth to his personality; only cruelty and pain.
In other circumstances she would have left them alone, but with none of their plans finalised, Hermione had little choice but to disturb them.
"Guys?" She banged her fist on the table.
The glasses and cups rattled with the force of her blow. It was so satisfying that Hermione did it again, this time succeeding in making the quill flutter up a few inches into the air. Both Luna and Neville looked at her with raised brows.
"The contract? Have you written an outline?"
Luna nodded her head and slipped out of Neville's arms. She wandered out of the kitchen with a distracted look as if she were trying to recall where she'd left the contract.
"So, how's your work going at the Ministry? You perfected the art of making tea yet?" Neville asked, reaching for the whistling kettle and two fresh cups.
"Don't mention tea to me. Taybolt is impossible to please. He's being difficult on purpose." Hermione narrowed her eyes at the memory of the scruffy wizard wrinkling his nose at her tea-making effort. You'd think she'd scooped up a cup full of toilet water and served it to him with a dollop of manure by the look on his face.
Neville placed a mug of mint tea in front of her and stirred in a spoonful of thick honey. "And...umm...well...Luna mentioned Barty? Are there...that is...what's going on with him?"
Hermione frowned and stared at the spinning surface of her tea. The honey had given it a deeper colour and sweeter scent. Tiny bubbles rose up from the bottom to create frothy islands that lasted for a few seconds before they popped, releasing a puff of steam. She inhaled it and allowed her mind to drift to Barty and their last conversation. It had been days since they'd spoke, and although they hadn't actively avoided each other, they hadn't sought each other out either. They'd settled into an uneasy alliance as they both tried to puzzle out what they felt and what it meant for the future.
Hermione glanced at Neville's worried face. "Nothing," she said. "It's fine. Well, as fine as it can be when dealing with Barty."
Her words didn't appear to reassure him but she knew the truth would satisfy him even less.
"Don't worry about me. I won't do anything stupid." She pointed to her chest. "I'm Hermione Granger, remember?"
Neville huffed out a breath. "That's what I'm worried about."
Hermione was saved from replying by Luna's return. She held several sheets of thick parchment under her arm and a bunch of flowers in the other.
"I've written several for you." She placed them on the table beside Hermione's tea. "You'll need to get Draco or Barty to look through the stipulations and decide if they need to be changed."
"I'll take them with me when I meet Draco and he can have a look." She quickly skimmed the pages before rolling them up into a thick tube. "Thanks for the tea, Neville."
Pushing to her feet, Hermione prepared to leave. "And thanks for writing this, Luna, I know you're busy with the wedding." She pulled Luna into a quick hug, then backed away and made to move towards the floo.
Before she could take a step, the blonde witch grabbed her and thrust the bouquet of flowers into her arms. The heady scent of sunflowers, sweetpeas and lady's mantle assaulted her nose.
"I picked these for you. They'll bring you luck," Luna said, stepping away.
Hermione lowered the flowers so they weren't tickling her face. "Thanks, Luna. I'm going to need it."
With one last hug, she left the Lovegood House behind and returned to the Burrow. There was nobody there to greet her; Arthur and George were at work, Molly was visiting Fleur and Bill, and Barty, presumably, was sulking in his hut. Taking the flowers to the sink, Hermione grabbed a vase and filled it with water before placing the mismatched blooms inside. On first inspection, Luna had somehow managed to pick colours that clashed and scents that fought to outdo each other. But when you looked a second time, the arrangement seemed to blend into one vivid splash of colour and the different smells wove around and through each other to produce a pleasing scent. Hermione shook her head in wonder and placed the vase on the table so everyone could enjoy it.
She turned back to the floo, intending to visit Draco so he could read the contract and offer suggestions, but she paused at the last second. What they were doing was dangerous. The lives of her friends were at stake. Her life was at stake. Excluding Barty because they didn't know how to label their relationship was absurd and incredibly stupid. They were going to need him if they wanted to have any chance of succeeding. Casting aside her doubts, Hermione strode out of the Burrow and towards his hut.
The air had turned cooler of late and summer's bright colours had started to fade into the yellow, red and brown of autumn. She half hoped Barty would be out somewhere so she'd have an excuse to visit Draco alone. She knocked once as quietly as she could.
"What?"
Hermione screwed up her face at his reply. "It's me. Can I come in?"
A beat of silence and then a grunt of assent.
The door opened with it's usual reluctant creak. Barty sat on his mattress illuminated by the light from a candle. He didn't look up at her as she stood on the threshold or when she stepped further into the untidy room. Crookshanks sat in his lap and stared at her with a sour look. Clearly, the traitor had taken Barty's side and blamed her for the Death Eater's mood.
"I'm about to go over to Grimmauld Place to discuss the contract with Draco and we should speak to Kreacher about getting a job in the pooled kitchens as well." She tapped the rolled parchments against her thigh. "Do you want to come?"
There. She'd offered an olive branch of sorts. It was up to him if he wanted to take it or not. Hermione waited several moments for him to reply and, when he didn't, she nodded and turned to leave. The rustle of fabric sounded behind her and a grim smile formed on her lips. He'd decided to accompany her after all.
They didn't speak as they returned to the Burrow. Barty still maintained his habit of standing too close, but she didn't call him out on it, afraid it would lead to a conflict they wouldn't be able to recover from in time. Draco was waiting for them when they arrived, nervously pacing up and down and biting his nails.
"Fuck, Granger. You took your time, didn't you?"
Hermione stepped further into the room. "I'm here, aren't I? Have you spoken to Kreacher?"
"The little fucker won't speak to me."
Barty scoffed. "Then make him talk."
Draco's eyes darted towards Hermione at Barty's harsh tone. It wasn't difficult to sense the Death Eater was in a foul mood and likely to lash out at the slightest provocation.
"Let's deal with the contract first," Hermione said to diffuse the rising tension.
She unrolled the parchments and handed a couple to each of them. While they read, she wandered into the kitchen and made some tea. In part, it was to give herself time to think. Perhaps the best way to deal with Barty was to pretend that they hadn't had sex at all. They could simply continue as if nothing had happened. In all honesty, it would be the best thing for all concerned. But she knew that would be impossible, they were in too deep to consider going their separate ways. By the time she returned with the tea, they'd finished reading and stood at opposite ends of the room. Barty glared at Draco and Draco glared at the floor.
Hermione sighed. "Well? Is it agreeable or not?"
"It's not bad. There are a few things I'd change, but I still don't think you'll be able to get everyone to sign it," Draco replied.
Barty scoffed and flung his copies of the contracts down. "Then we make them sign. You can be first, Malfoy. I'll even help you."
Hermione placed the tea tray on the table, determined to ignore Barty's deteriorating mood. "It would be best if everyone signed at the same time, but taking the time to meet every Death Eater and convince them is going to be impossible."
"Then we pick the most useful amongst them," Barty muttered. "Are you useful, Draco?"
He moved closer to the blond as he spoke and Hermione could feel the tension rising, even as her former classmate sent her a desperate look.
"You're tea's getting cold." She reached for the parchments Barty had thrown down. "Come, show me which parts you think need to be changed, Malfoy."
Draco practically ran to the table, circling around to stand beside Hermione. He summoned a quill and quickly began to underline the sections he thought would need rewording, even taking the time to scribble suggestions in the margins next to Luna's neat script. His pale hand looked fragile as it moved across the page and Hermione wondered why she'd never noticed before how fine-boned he was. She was pulled from her musings by Barty sitting down next to her. He spread his legs so that his thigh touched her knee under the table.
"Do you have any suggestions?" she asked him.
"I suggest that I go to find Kreacher and...convince...him that he needs to help us."
"You do that," Hermione said, distracted by Draco's notes.
He'd written a few good alternatives which she'd be comfortable using. They wouldn't need to change too much of Luna's ideas either. Once it was drawn up, they could use the same spelled parchment she'd used when they'd made every one up for Dumbledore's Army.
"Are you sure it's wise to let Barty talk to Kreacher?" Draco asked.
"Hmmm?" She glanced at him and then at the empty chair beside her. "Yes, of course."
"Fuck, Granger, he looked ready to kill when he left."
Hermione sighed. "Stop being dramatic, Malfoy. We need Kreacher, remember? He won't talk to me and he won't talk to you, but he might talk to Barty."
"I don't know, Granger. Something about him seemed off. I mean, more off than usual."
She didn't reply. Reading Barty's moods was akin to juggling knives. You might get it right, but you might also get it very, very wrong. It didn't help that they'd been avoiding each other the last few days and she didn't know how far his mood had plummeted. She lifted her hands to massage her temples, hoping to stave off the headache she could feel building. Honestly, the plan was becoming more complicated by the second.
"Do you think you'd be able to speak to my father?" Draco asked.
Hermione frowned. "Why would I want to speak to Lucius?"
"Because if there's anyone who can think of a way to make everyone sign the contract, it'll be him."
He was right. Lucius Malfoy knew how to get people to do what he wanted, especially if they didn't want to do it in the first place. Whatever advice he gave would mean skirting the edge of manipulation, which Hermione would be uncomfortable with if her options weren't so limited. Having his input could give them the edge they needed, plus he'd be the ideal person to talk to about Zeagburg. Lucius would surely know more about him than anyone else.
"I'll find a way to speak to him if I can," she finally answered.
The sound of Barty returning caused her to turn her head.
"He's willing to cooperate," he said.
His words seemed to filter into Hermione's ears in slow motion, their meaning lost by the sight of blood dripping from Barty's fingertips. She blinked as black dots drifted across her vision. A cold feeling rose from her feet, up the backs of her legs and into her spine, leaving her weak and light-headed. She was dimly aware of someone calling her name and an arm reaching towards her before she passed out.
Well? what do you guys think?