It's been longer than I wanted since my last update, and I'm so sorry! This chapter took me awhile to get out. In truth, I'm still not in love with it, but it's been long enough. My wonderful beta, HarryPGinnyW4eva, seemed to enjoy it, and I'm hoping you all will, too! We're getting close to the end of this little story... I already have the last two chapters written, so it's just writing the ones in between to get us there :)
Many thanks to my incredible beta, HarryPGinnyW4eva, for making time for me in her busy life!
Your reviews keep me going and remind me what I should be doing (namely, working on this fic!) Please take a moment to let me know what you think, won't you?
And, as always, I own nothing.
Ch. 32- On Plans of Action
Draco had a bad feeling when Hermione stuck her tongue out at him and went off with the Macmillan tosser, but he tried to behave himself. Storming off after her and demanding she go back to their common room with him wouldn't earn him any favors. In fact, if he knew his witch, she'd likely flatly refuse to come with him and dance until morning, just to spite him. So, tamping down all his possessive and protective instincts, he went to find Blaise.
"Oi, Malfoy," Neville called, over the din of the raucous party, "Where's Hermione? Harry said it's my shift to keep an eye on her."
Draco looked down at his watch. It can't be time for Longbottom's shift yet, he thought, but sure enough, it was. "She went over there," he gestured toward the punch bowl with a grumble, "with that prat, Macmillan."
Neville shook his head. "She isn't over there. I checked. And I think Ernie left- I haven't seen him anywhere."
Draco felt his heart drop into his stomach. Calm down, he tried to placate himself, she could be anywhere. No need to panic. "We have to find Potter," he told Neville, his tone a bit harsher than he meant for it to be. Neville immediately paled and set off to find their friend in the crowd.
"Weasley! Zabini! C'mon!" Draco called, grabbing the arms of two of his friends, and garnering the attention of a harassed looking Ginny.
"Oi! Mitts off, Malfoy," she argued, shoving Draco in the shoulder as she followed the trio across the crowded dance floor, "We were dancing!"
"Yeah? And Hermione is missing, Red. Forgive me if I don't give a damn," he barked back, a snarl in his lip. Draco momentarily felt mollified, as a look of sheer panic overtook the pretty redhead's features, before he realized that he still didn't know where his girlfriend was.
"Calm down, mate," Blaise pacified as calmly as he could over the thumping music. "We'll find her."
"Malfoy!" they heard over the music, as Neville and Harry came charging over to them. "We lost her? How the hell did we lose her?" Harry looked beside himself. Anyone else might think it was rage- it sounded a lot like rage- but Draco knew better. He knew that the terror and panic on Harry's face likely rivaled his own. "You were supposed to have eyes on her! How could you let this happen?"
Draco felt his guilt multiply, and the burden of that was weighing down his chest. "Me? You shouldn't have fucking let her come to this party, Potter! I told you it was a bad idea!" He frantically ran his fingers through his perfectly coiffed hair, making it stand up every which way. "She got miffed at me and ran off with that idiot, Macmillan. We haven't seen them since."
Harry let out a loud sigh, and then turned his wand into the air, and shot off a blast, like a cannon. "The party is over, everyone!" he called, turning to the large room of irritated students. "Auror business. Ron, Neville," he turned to his friends, "You guard the door. No one comes in or out until we have this sorted." He turned to Ginny and Luna. "You two help me check with all of the students. Let's double check she isn't here before we send for back up." Then he turned to Draco and Blaise. "Go check your common room. Make sure she didn't leave without us knowing."
A brief flash of annoyance passed through Draco when he realized that he was actually taking orders from Potter. Bossy git. Then, just as quickly, the guilt came back, and he raced off toward his common room, praying to Merlin, Morgana, and every deity he knew of that he'd find Hermione there. If something happens to her, he thought ruefully, I'll never forgive myself.
Hermione came to and took stock of her situation. She was shackled to a wall and her wand was missing. She was in some kind of dungeon, by the looks of it. It was a drafty room, made entirely of stone, with one tiny window that let in no light. It's still night, then, she thought, wondering how long she had been unconscious.
Her last memory was being transported by portkey, courtesy of that right tosser, Ernie Macmillan. What a foul, evil git, she internally grumbled. When she'd arrived at her location, she'd been knocked out immediately, clubbed in the head with something heavy before she'd had the chance to take a look at where she was.
She felt ill. On top of the throbbing pain in her head, she felt as though she might lose the contents of her stomach at any moment. The truth was, she'd really thought this wouldn't happen. Years of friendship with Harry, narrowly avoiding scrapes and getting out of most situations before they grew too dire, meant that she'd falsely believed that the Aurors would catch whoever had been harassing her. How could she have been so naive? So pompous?
Over and over she asked herself how she could have fallen for this incredibly juvenile trap. It isn't even well thought out! she mused, growing angrier. Thank Merlin, Draco had given her that sobering potion. All at once, her thoughts changed course. Draco! Oh, he's probably so worried! And after I was so cross with him at the party. He must be beside himself.
Draco was beside himself. "What the hell do you mean there are protocols to follow, Potter?" he growled, pounding his fists down on the table in front of him. Everyone at the party had been given a large dose of sobering potion and whisked off to the Ministry for questioning. "We know who is responsible! They can stop with the bloody investigation and go after Macmillan!" He paced back and forth across the tiny office that Harry shared with Auror Windermere.
"We don't know where to find him, Malfoy!" Harry snapped, standing up from his desk where he had been pouring over files in the hopes of finding something new. He pointed at a chair in the corner. "Calm down."
Draco shot the Gryffindor a venomous look, vitriolic enough to scare Voldemort himself. "Calm down? Are you out of your damned mind, Potter?" he hissed, his voice a terrifying whisper. "The person I care about more than any other is who knows where, and you're telling me to 'calm down'? Just because you don't-"
"Don't you dare," Harry threatened, cutting the taller man off, "imply that I don't care about Hermione. Don't even think about it. I love Hermione more than you know. I've loved her longer than you. She's my sister- my only family. Don't act like I'm not taking this seriously, Malfoy!"
"Listen gents," Ron called, charging into the office, "What Hermione needs is not for you two to return to your childish arguing. I know you're both gutted- and trust me, I am too- but there's no point in getting shirty with each other. It's going to take all of us working together to find her."
Draco shook his head, dropping his face in his hands. When Weasley is the one making sense, you know things are bad. He groaned. "I'm sorry, Potter. Let's bring her home, yeah?"
Hermione watched the sun rise through the tiny window across the room. The first gentle signs of morning came, as the blackness of night turned into a beautiful velvety navy. Then the room was bathed in deep red and birds began chirping; singing their praises for another new day.
She briefly thought to wonder if she should pause to take in everything about this day, as it could possibly be her last. Would this be the last time she stopped to listen to a chorus of blackbirds singing their morning songs? The last time she would feel grateful for the joyful rays of light, pouring in through the window and promising another day? The last time she would breathe in the distant smell of morning dew and feel magic pulsing beneath her skin and take stock of all that she was grateful for? She thought to wonder about all of this, but quickly dismissed those thoughts. She knew some might consider her crazy- and perhaps she was- but she didn't have it in her to be scared.
She was Hermione Granger, Muggleborn best friend of The Chosen One and the Brightest Witch of Her Age. She had encountered werewolves and mountain trolls and a basilisk, and lived to tell the tale. She had helped free an Azkaban prisoner, brewed Polyjuice Potion in her second year, and escaped Gringott's on the back of a Ukrainian Ironbelly. She had put together an army of teenagers under the nose of the Ministry, for Godric's sake! She wouldn't cower in fear because a pompous classmate thought that he had bested her.
The truth was, Hermione had long ago resigned herself to the idea that with her friends on her side, she could get out of any scrape. The past year had contained more grief and sorrow than she thought she'd ever be able to bear, and yet she was still standing (albeit shackled to a wall). It was like Ginny always said, "Anything is possible if you've got enough nerve." Harry and Ron had never let her down before. Not when it really mattered, anyway.
And then there was Draco. He wouldn't let anything happen to her, if he could help it. He was surely kicking himself for allowing things to go this far, but she knew that if there was a way to help her, he would find it. She knew what she meant to him. He'd empty the Malfoy vaults, if that's what it took. They'd find where she was being held soon enough, he would make sure of that.
Hermione Granger, she reminded herself, was not a damsel in distress. She'd be ready, when they came to find her. Her friends and her love could come barrelling through the door at any moment, but she wouldn't faff about, waiting for them to free her from her binds. She was a strong, independent witch, who was simply not afraid of Ernie Macmillan.
That realization brought with it another puzzlement, and so while she attempted every nonverbal spell she could think of the wriggle free from her shackles, she also tried to wrap her mind around why Ernie would kidnap and harass her. It truly didn't make sense. Surely this can't be because of the Halloween ball? she reasoned, wondering how a sensible bloke like Ernie could turn so batty simply because she'd turned him down for a date. It just doesn't make any sense… Then, realizing that the first note came the night after the Halloween masquerade, after Ernie had been suspiciously absent from the party, she began to wonder if the idea might have merit afterall.
She was so caught up in consideration, she didn't hear the muttering of a spell to unlock the door, and when the door opened and light poured in, it took her a moment to take in the face of her captor. Blinking away the spots in her tired eyes, she again turned to the door, gasping when she saw the face of her jailer.
Draco couldn't understand what was taking so long. Macmillan had disappeared, and the longer they took to go after him, the longer it would take to find Hermione. It had been hours- four hours and 17 minutes, to be precise- since he had last laid eyes on her, and every moment that inched by made his gut clench tighter and tighter.
He had an idea. Not a good one, of course, but he'd tried to give the Aurors time to do things their way, and it had gotten him nowhere. He knew it was time to take matters into his own hands, before anything happened to Hermione. He shuddered to think what could have already happened, in the time he'd spent letting the Aurors have their way.
"Potter," he called, storming into Harry's office, "We need to talk."
Harry sighed, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Malfoy, I know you're worried, but the more time you spend distracting me, the longer it will take to find her. I need to keep pouring through these-"
"I know how to find her," Draco declared, interrupting Harry's diatribe.
Harry stood up abruptly, shooting his chair back too quickly, which became evident when it tipped over and crashed to the floor. Neither wizard took notice. "What?" Harry demanded.
"It isn't strictly… erm, legal," Draco explained under his breath, gesturing to the open door.
The Gryffindor held up a finger, gesturing for Draco to pause for a moment, and then he quickly left the room. He returned in a flash, Ron in tow.
"Okay," Harry prompted, sitting against the edge of his desk, while Ron took up a chair in the corner.
"Do you remember that necklace I gave Granger for Christmas?" Draco questioned, resuming his pacing from earlier. With the nod from his co-conspirators, he continued, "She never takes it off, you see, at my request." He sighed, running his hands anxiously through his mane. "Before I gave it to her, I put a trace on it."
Both Aurors-in-training gasped. "Like that bloody stain on your arm?" Ron sputtered accusatorily.
Draco shook his head. "I didn't fucking brand her, Weasel-bee," he grumbled with a roll of his eyes. "But, I'll be honest in saying that He was the inspiration, yeah. It only goes one way, though… I can pull myself to her."
"Draco, mate… that's dark magic," Harry whispered, looking towards his door as if he could see through it and check that no one was eavesdropping.
"I know. Which is why I haven't mentioned it until now. I knew that the Auror's office wouldn't approve… but it's the only way, and I'm hoping you blokes can see that." He fell into a chair. "It's the only way…" He looked down at his hands.
A moment went by, but to Draco it could have been an hour. Then suddenly, he felt Ron clap him on the shoulder. "You do what you have to do, Malfoy. I'm not going to report it."
He heard Harry sigh loudly across the room. "I hate this, you know. Not only because it's illegal and could cost Ron and I our jobs, but also because Hermione is going to hate it when she finds out… but dammit, I'd rather have her here to yell at me about letting you dabble in the Dark Arts. I'm in, too."
"Great, because I'll need your help," Draco told them. They both nodded at once. "You two need to figure out a way to pull the Aurors to me. I can't take anyone with me when I go to her, and there's no guarantee I'll be able to let you know where I am."
"I'm going to send you with my cloak, Malfoy," Harry chimed in, crossing the room to a locked cabinet. "Take good care of it, as I'll want it back."
Draco rolled his eyes. "I don't need your bloody shield cloak, Potter."
Harry snorted, "Not my shield cloak, you prat. This." Harry held the shimmery, translucent fabric in front of Draco's face. For a moment, confusion crossed the visage of the handsome blonde, before understanding set in. Draco couldn't speak; he was so impressed by the gesture. Instead, he nodded in affirmation.
"We might not be able to come to you right away. Even with some sort of tracking charm on you, we'll need to go through the proper channels. Especially because this, thing," explained Ron, with a wild gesture, "that you're using to find her is so improper. We'll get there as soon as we can." Again, Draco nodded his understanding.
"I need to leave at once," Draco explained, standing up. "How long will it take you to put a track on me?"
Harry stood as well. "We can do it right now. Once you head out, Ron and I will come up with a story to tell the other Aurors, to cover up the trace."
Draco nodded. Harry made to cross the room, but Draco grabbed his arm. "One last thing, Potter? Weasley?" He paused a moment to make sure he had their attention. Then, "I'm going to do whatever it takes to get her back. I won't rest until she's safe. If… if that means something bad for me, could… would… erm, tell my mother? Don't make Blaise do it."
Harry nodded, and Draco recognized the firm, understanding set of his jaw. He knew that Harry was a man who had looked certain death in the face in the interest of protecting the ones that he loved. After all these years, he'd found some sort of common ground with Potter. It would be funny if it wasn't so damn tragic.