A/N: Last chapter I said that Chapter Eleven was so big, that I'm splitting it into two parts. I lied. It will actually be in THREE parts. I'm trying to write as much as I can in my spare time, but that time is sparse, so please bear with me and don't give up on this story :-) There is still SO MUCH MORE to come! Onto part two...
Chapter Twelve - Part Two
It is a well-known fact that when you are dreading something, time seems to tease you by speeding up towards it. The last day of training zoomed by Hermione as they revised strategies, spellwork, disguises, acting, Kata and one-on-one combat. Hermione was nervous, but excited, to finally finish her training. She felt stronger, confident and satisfied, a complete change to how she was when she had commenced training. She hadn't considered the after. What if she didn't get through? What would happen? She remembered the flyer that Draco had given her at the start, stating that all those who didn't pass would be on the receiving end of a memory charm, so the training and initiation process remained a secret. She hadn't given it a second thought when she signed up, but that was before. Before she had memories that she wanted to keep.
On the morning of the exams, Hermione woke up to the shining rays of the early morning sun illuminating her bedroom in a golden glow. She stretched, rolling over in bed to stare at the ceiling where shadows danced in the morning light. She thought she'd feel more anxious, but her mentors had taught her well and she was actually looking forward to the challenge. She showered quickly, threw on her black yoga pants, and for the hell of it, her maroon t-shirt as well for good luck.
Her mind drifted to Draco and their shared kisses every few moments and she caught herself smiling silly at times. She drank her tea in the loungeroom, staring out at the view of the city as she rested her head against the window until the heat from the steam of the tea fogged the pane of glass up until the point she couldn't see through it any longer. She drew a love heart in the mist with a lazy forefinger and stared at it, biting her bottom lip pensively as she relished in the feeling of giddiness that was pumping through her.
When she hit the street to begin the trek into work, it was with a start that she realised the streets were lined with tinsel and shiny decorations. She wasn't sure how she hadn't noticed before, but with being so distracted by training, the month had flown by and there was only a week left until Christmas. Her ignorance would have been helped with the fact that it was the middle of summer in Australia, and she just didn't connect heat to Christmas at all. It will certainly be a different one for her.
She was the first one to arrive in the foyer, although she could hear Dave and Chief talking in the classroom as she passed to drop her bag off into the lockers. Once she had locked her bag away, she doubled back to say good morning.
"Ah, there's a face to brighten my morning," Chief greeted, flashing her a wide smile from beneath his bushy ginger beard.
"Does it need brightening?" Hermione asked, standing in the doorway and leaning against the frame with her arms crossed. "Where's the Sensei?"
"Meditation," he said, before waving her first question away with his big hand, and Hermione caught a flash of his tattooed knuckles. She loved the fact he looked so menacing but was really just a giant teddy bear. "And no, it doesn't need brightening, but you're a welcome sight regardless. How are you feeling?"
"Prepared," Hermione answered, a glint in her eye. But then her expression faltered a little. "But also kind of nervous, I guess."
Chief barked a laugh. "You've got nothing to be nervous about."
Dave walked over and nudged her shoulder gently with his fist. "Don't let any of the others hear me say this, but seriously, you have nothing to worry about."
Hermione could see Chief over the back of Dave point to him and mouth, "You're his favourite!"
She laughed and Dave whipped around glaring at him. "What was that?"
Chief changed his expression abruptly and looked up at the ceiling, his hand now rubbing over his bald head innocently. "Nothing...nothing."
Within half an hour, the rest of the candidates arrived, and they all settled in the classroom. The air was thick with tension, nervous excitement and just a dash of fear. No one talked to each other, all too focused on their own individual worries to be able to think of words to say.
As a nearby clocked chimed nine am, the room fell silent. Chief and Dave stood at the front, looking expectant, but Hermione didn't know what they were waiting for. Then she heard the shuffling of feet enter the room and twisted in her seat to have a look. It was Draco, which immediately made Hermione's stomach do a backflip at the sight of him, he was wearing formal black slacks and a white cotton button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up a few times, so his tattoos were on display. His outfit reminded her strongly of the formalwear he used to wear during their school years, but she was glad to notice that he looked in much better condition than he had on her rooftop. He was followed by a very official looking man and woman, both dressed in long robes of pin-striped grey. The woman was in her late forties, blonde, with her hair tied tightly into a bun, her features sharp with high cheek bones and pointed chin. Her eyes were heavy lidded with mascara, and the blue of her irises stood out strikingly like the azure of the ocean Hermione had stared out at on Phillip Island. The man was about the same age, dark hair combed neatly in a side part, a few streaks of grey at the temple. Draco kept his head up straight and didn't glance away as he walked through the rows of tables and chairs. Hermione's heart began to thump erratically as she watched him and Dave's words from weeks before came back to her. The Service has always forbidden inter-agency romances.
They took a moment to greet Dave and Chief, and with a few handshakes later, they turned and faced the group of candidates. The woman spoke first.
"Good morning, Candidates. My name is Efimia Medeia and I am the current Director of the Australia Division of the Secret Service, which you will have come to know as ADSS through your training. To my right is our Deputy Director, Edric Amory, who you will work under should you move through to position selection."
The Deputy stepped forward, clearing his throat and straightening his jack before speaking. "Today's exams will be conducted in three stages. The first stage is the written tests, focusing on three main areas, and you will have two hours to complete. Logic-based Reasoning, Detail Observation and Strategic Analytics. After a brief recess, you will move into the Gymnasium to complete stage two, which will combine both strategy and physical components. The setting of the second task is an 'Escape Room'. The third and final stage will be held after lunch. You will complete a grading held in the Dojo by Sensei Tully, followed by a final sparring match to determine your level."
Director Medeia nodded her thanks to him and he stepped back. "You will be contacted within two weeks of the new year with the result of this exam. Deputy Director Amory and myself will oversee these exams as well as your trainers, and we will be taking notes as we do so. I will give anyone who needs it five minutes to do a last-minute trip to the bathroom before we begin. Good luck."
With that she turned around, facing Amory and the others. Hermione felt a nervous twinge in her lower abdomen and decided to make the dash for the loo. She wasn't alone, almost everybody wanted to make the most of their last five minutes to prepare themselves for what lay ahead. The bathroom was eerily quiet as she closed the cubicle door behind her after flushing the toilet and washed her hands quickly in the basin. As she passed the showers to return to the classroom, a masculine arm darted out and grabbed her around her waist, pulling her backwards. She went to scream, but inhaled citrus and soap and knew at once it was Draco. He closed the screen door, spun her around to face him and pinned her against the wall of the shower cubicle. His lips collided against hers and she gasped into them, reaching up to cup his face in her hands. It was quick and rough, a searing feeling of possessiveness coursed through them both as they desperately sought comfort from each other. Draco's hand travelled down the length of her, gripping her thigh and bringing it to rest above his hip as he leant bodily into her. She could feel every curve of muscle against her torso, fitting perfectly against her like a puzzle piece. He moved his mouth to her neck, nibbling and pecking, and Hermione clung to him, struggling to contain the sounds of pleasure that wanted to erupt from her.
"One minute warning," Dave called into the room, and they heard the remaining candidates begin to leave. Draco growled softly into Hermione's neck and she sighed in response. He let her leg fall and stepped back, reaching up instead to tidy the strands of hair that fell out of her braid. She returned the favour, brushing his shirt flat against him to remove any creases. He winked at her. She lifted her hand to briefly caress his jawline, the corner of her mouth tugging upwards into a small smile, and then she was gone, slipping out of the cubicle silently.
She returned to her seat, hoping her cheeks weren't looking too flushed, as a secret delight pumped through her. Draco entered the room moments later, his expression nonchalant and neutral, but Hermione could see Dave frown at him, and then flickered his gaze to her. Hermione immediately averted her eyes but knew that Dave was too observant for his own good. Damien Thorne would have waltzed through that door with his usual smile plastered on his face, not with Draco's quiet, confident smirk.
"And...begin!" Director Medeia called. A thick wad of parchment materialised in front of her and Hermione quickly scanned each page. The questions were surprisingly not too difficult, just extensive. If anything, they were reminiscent of the questions they had to fill in on the first day of training.
The Logic-based Reasoning featured questions about statements provided.
Wizard A works in the Department of Magical Transportation. All members of the Department of Magical Transportation undertake training in Brisbane. Wizard B has never been to Brisbane.
Based on this statement:
Wizard B works for the Department of Magical Transportation – true or false?
And so, the questions went on similarly. The Detail Observation section featured moving photographs of previous crime scenes and the questions asked about items in the pictures. There were at least fifty photographs with three questions apiece. Hermione's hand began to ache. The last section was the longest. Strategic Analytics wanted them to draw from their learning with Chief to come up with strategies to retrieve information, organise an extraction, conduct a stakeout. How many people, what expertise would they need, where would you place them, how would you get back to base. Hermione tried to answer each question as thoroughly as she could, with most answers needing more space than provided so she had to write with miniscule handwriting. On the last page of the written exam, an hour and a half later, Hermione stared at the following question:
What would you consider is the most important ideal of the ADSS?
Most important ideal? Hermione racked her brain. Would it be the collection of sensitive information? Or the ability to get in and out undetected? Then as she re-read the question, the abbreviation stood out at her. ADSS – the Australian Division of the Secret Service.
"Of course," she breathed, hastening to write down 'The Secrecy'.
And then she sat back, disbelieving that she had completed the first stage already.
After a fifteen-minute recess, in which the candidates all sat quietly in the mess hall together, each looking pale and expressionless, they made their way to the Gymnasium to find that it had been transformed overnight. Instead of the usually large room, they instead entered a hallway with nine doors coming off it. Director Medeia was waiting for them, with the Deputy and trainers standing behind her.
"You will each be locked in these rooms with not even your wand to help you. The aim of this challenge is to utilise logic and strategy to escape. You have one hour to complete the challenge. Good luck."
Hermione made her way to the very last room, stopping only to hand over her wand to Draco, who had his hand held out. His eyes twinkled at her, even though his face was not smiling. Hermione felt the butterflies again and gave him a nervous smile, which she quickly dropped when she remembered who was standing next to him. She opened the door and stepped into a room that resembled a log cabin. There was a fireplace, ready to be lit with wood in its grate, a small writing desk with a typewriter on it, a single piece of paper in its carriage, a wooden chair, a rug, a chandelier, a few pictures on the wall and above the door hovered glowing numbers displaying 60:00, which Hermione assumed would be the timer. The door closed suddenly with a click. She drew her gaze down and noticed a panel next to the door, with eight spaces for different numbers to be entered in as a code. Ok, so she would have to figure out the code to unlock the door, that made sense.
A voice echoed overhead. "Begin."
The timer began to tick down, and Hermione took another look around the room. Where to go first? The writing desk would make the easiest place to start. She walked over and ran her fingers over the wooden surface. It had two drawers, both locked. Perhaps she needed to find a key. She twirled around, eyeing the room interestedly. The pictures on the wall were of landscapes, the trees silently blowing with an invisible breeze. It was the same view, but painted in four different ways. Four different seasons – Autumn, Spring, Winter, Summer.
"Wait a minute," Hermione murmured, eyeing the paintings. "That's the wrong order."
She gingerly attempted to pull the picture closest to her free and it came easily. Feeling more confident, she grabbed the others, and swapped them around her hands. She went to rehang them on the wall then paused. She was going to start with winter, as she was so used to January being that season. Remembering she was in Australia, she quickly flipped the pictures over again and hung them up in order, starting with Summer. As she let go of the painting of spring and stepped back, a white gleam shined over the paintings and from behind the tree in the autumn painting, a small girl appeared and walked forward.
"I'm tall when I'm young, but I'm short when I'm old. What am I?" the girl spoke in a haunting whisper that echoed around the room.
"Tall when young, short when old," Hermione repeated, looking around the room as her mind worked through the riddle. Her eyes went up and it was if a lightbulb blinked on above her head. "A candle!"
She wasn't tall enough to reach the chandelier though. She walked over and grabbed the wooden chair and dragged it to the middle of the room, quickly clambering up. There were 6 candles, of varying heights and Hermione delicately picked up the smallest one, examining it. She could not see anything untoward about it, it was just a plain, off-white beeswax taper candle. Maybe she had gotten the riddle wrong? But then she noticed a puzzle piece sticking out from underneath one of the other holders. She reached over, careful not to burn herself on the flames and clutched it. She went to put the candle back, but then paused, looking over at the fireplace.
The timer was ticking steadily down, already six minutes had passed. She carefully hopped off the chair and pondered her next move, staring at the steadily shrinking candle. With a shrug, she walked over and squatted next to the fireplace, seeing the wood ready in place to burn, kindling and all. She cautiously tipped the tiny, flickering flame into the middle of the fireplace, watching as the kindling took light. Dropping the remaining candle into the centre of the pit, she leant down low to blow streams of air into the middle of the wood, helping the fire to catch. The smoke grew steadily, chugging up the length of the flue and after a few minutes, Hermione heard a small pop and a ting as something metallic was dislodged and fell down to the back of the grate. It was a muggle screwdriver. She frowned and attempted to reach it, wincing as the hot blaze licked at her skin. Stretching her arm to its full length, she finally encircled her fingers around the warm metal and drew back quickly.
It was a normal, muggle, average sized, flat-head screwdriver, with a metal shaft and a green plastic handle – exactly the sort of tool she'd expect to find in her fathers back shed. She hopped up, still staring at it and hastened to try and pry the drawers of the desk open. Wedging it into the gap, she wriggled it firmly until she heard a click and the top drawer came free.
In it was another puzzle piece and a single sheet of parchment. Hermione had completely forgotten she was clutching the first puzzle piece in her right fist still, and placed it on the writing desk, quickly snatching up the items from the draw and laying them next to it. The parchment had letters written on it, but it looked to be in code.
EPIB QA QB BPIB OQDMV WVM, GWC'TT PIDM MQBPMZ BEW WZ VWVM?
Deciding to leave that for now, she attempted to pry open the second drawer as she did the first, but it remained stuck in place. Obviously that drawer needed the key. She wondered how many puzzle pieces were hidden around the room and began to search quickly. Under the table, under the chair, under the rug –
When she flicked back the corner of the green rug, not only did she find another puzzle piece, but she also found a safe dug into the floor. It had a six-digit lock on it, and she moved the pieces to find that the combination was letters. Another quick search around the room and she found a further five puzzle pieces, which she laid out onto the table and moved them around with her forefingers trying to find the right spot. The pieces were of something creamy white, making it difficult to find the matching portion. She finally worked it out though and when she placed the final piece in place, she realised she was staring at the bust of Julius Caesar.
"Oh!" she cried in realisation, looking once more at the parchment of code. Then she muttered to herself, "The Caesar shift code."
She glanced at the timer and bit her lip nervously, only thirty minutes to go. She must have taken longer to find the puzzle pieces than she realised. The Caesar Cipher was a code she had learnt from Chief, a simple code designed by Julius Caesar who used it to encrypt his personal and military missives. The idea was to shift the alphabet to a corresponding letter, so if there was a two shift then the letter A would be written as C, and it would look like nonsense to any non-suspecting person. Hermione just had to figure out how many letters were shifted. Maybe it was four, for the four seasons on the wall? Or the number of candles? Or...her eyes stopped on the puzzle of Julius Caesar. Or the eight pieces of the puzzle?
As there was no quill around, Hermione pulled the wooden chair back over to the desk and sat down at it, placing her fingers over the keys of the type writer to work out the code. If it was an eight-letter shift, that means that A would become I. Hermione began counting and working out the letters. After a few minutes, she read the code aloud from the typewriter.
"What is it that given one, you'll have either two or none?" She stared at it, the clogs of her mind grinding in overtime and she tried to work out the new riddle. She read it out loud a further three times, but her brain was now in such a tizz that she could not focus properly. "Maybe...a chance? You only get one chance, or two or none... oh, come on, Granger, this isn't impossible."
She looked back at the safe in the floor, with it's six-digit code. Chance did have six letters, maybe it would be worth a shot. She leapt out of her seat and dived for the safe.
She twisted the first digit to C, and it gave a small click. The next digit to H, again, another click. The third digit to A. Nothing. No click.
"Shit," she muttered to herself. Well, the answer obviously started with CH then. She gave a grunt, that didn't leave her with many choices then. She paused, her last thought replaying in her mind. Choices. "Oh! Duh!"
She spun the remaining digits to spell out O, I, C and E, with each clicking into place afterwards. After the final click, she pulled at the door and it opened easily. Inside was the key she needed for the bottom drawer. She hastily retrieved it and ran back to the desk, briskly shoving the key in the lock and turning it. With a satisfying clunk, the lock was undone, and she pulled the draw open. She gave a little groan when she saw there was another puzzle inside – this time a sliding picture puzzle. She picked it up and placed it on the desk. There were 17 pieces and one blank spot, all jumbled in the wrong order. She moved the first piece into the spare spot and then the next, and the next. She worked solidly for five minutes, trying to ignore the timer floating in the air that was steadily ticking down the remaining fifteen minutes.
When she slid the last tile painstakingly into place, the picture gleamed gold for a second. It began to play a scene, as if she was watching a movie on television. With a shock, she realised she was watching a painted recreation of the infamous duel between her old headmaster and Gellert Grindelwald. Spells were flying at an incredible speed as lightning flashed around the pair, battling for the final time in what would become known as the biggest global wizarding war, or the war within a war, as it had taken place during World War II. Hermione had always wondered why Professor Binns had focused on goblin rebellions and had never touched upon this, or any other wizarding war. One final spell, and Grindelwald was defeated, the picture falling still.
But what did it mean? It was obviously the final piece of the puzzle. She looked over to the panel next to the door and wracked her mind for an answer. Maybe the date? But she had no idea when the duel took place, besides what was written on Dumbledore's chocolate card – 1945. But there were eight digits, which meant it needed a day and month to complete the code. She knew the second world war ended in Europe when Germany surrendered on May 8th, 1945. Perhaps the dates were linked? Perhaps the fall of Grindelwald had more to do with the end of the muggle World War than she realised.
She decided to try her luck and turned the dials to reflect the date. In her amazement, the door clicked open and she was able to swing it wide and walk through. Without a backwards glance, she walked the length of the hallway, with all the other doors still closed. The Director, Deputy Director, Dave, Chief and Draco were standing huddled in a group at the end of the hallway near the door, talking quietly to each other.
"I think you should keep an open mind, Director," Dave was saying, his arm folded casually. "We've got a mixed bag of candidates but there are a few exceptional ones in there."
"Says you," the Director replied, checking her watch. "Ten minutes to go and not one has escaped their rooms yet. We didn't make it that difficult, really."
Hermione cleared her throat. "Excuse me, Director Medeia, I think I managed to escape mine."
They all jumped and turned, most wearing an incredulous look, but she could see Draco struggling to contain his amusement. The Director's cheeks tinged pink only for a second as she recollected herself.
"Well done," she said, clearing her throat to cover her surprise. "Miss Granger is it?"
Hermione nodded once to confirm her name. "Yes, Director."
"I've been told that you are quite the witch, Granger," she said, giving Hermione the once over with a calculating gaze. "By more than one source. We shall see if you continue to live up to your reputation. You may go through to the mess hall and begin lunch."
"Thank you, Director." Hermione gave the briefest of smiles, wondering who on Earth the Director had spoken to about her, then pushed through the group, her arm brushing Draco's ever-so-slightly as she passed.
"I think I might join Granger." She heard Draco say from behind her, and she tried hard not to react. "I'm starving."
She could hear his footsteps following her. She didn't stop as she crossed the foyer to the mess hall. When she finally saw the tables and chairs, she turned, catching Draco's eye through the doorway and bit her bottom lip nervously.
"How are you?" he whispered when he reached her, touching her forearm lightly with his fingers. "Coping ok?"
"The Director is a bit intimidating," Hermione said, quietly. "But nothing seems too challenging yet."
Draco lifted his fingers to trace the line of her jaw and she felt a small shudder go through her at the tickling touch.
"Hey Damo, wait up, I'll join you!" Dave called from the foyer and Draco immediately sprung back as if he was burned. Hermione got the hint and walked quickly to the other side of the room where the kitchen was, pretending that she was there the whole time.
"Hi Freddo," Hermione said, greeting the forever cheerful house-elf that served the candidates. "I love your hat."
House elves in Australia were cut from a different kind of cloth than the ones in England. They had all descended from the first house elves that were shipped off alongside the convicts in the eighteenth century. As such, they possessed a sense of self-worth unseen in the United Kingdom and were able to wear clothes as freely as any wizard. It was one of the things discovered about Australia that gave Hermione the most joy.
"Oh hello, Miss Hermione," Freddo squeaked, jiggling his head side to side to shake his wide brimmed hat and dangle the many strings containing wine corks at the end of them. His long ears were squished downwards from the hat, which gave him an almost puppy-like appearance. He was a young house-elf, at only fifty years old, and reminded her painfully of Dobby at times, as he had the same large, round, bright-green tennis ball eyes. "Thank you kindly, the flies have been bothering Freddo a lot this summer and it helps when I go to the early market."
"Fashionable and practical," Hermione grinned at him. "What have we got for lunch today?"
"Freddo is keeping it simple today, Miss. Sausage sizzle and salad." He began to move around the small kitchenette, grabbing a plate and tongs to load it up. A sausage sizzle is an Australian delicacy, eaten at almost every backyard barbeque and available for purchase every weekend at a popular hardware store chain as fundraisers for local sports clubs. It was just a slice of bread, a sausage, some onion and the sauce of your choice.
Behind Hermione, she could hear the frantic whispers of a quiet argument taking place between Draco and Dave and tried to ignore it. She accepted her lunch gratefully, thanking Freddo and heading back to the table where Draco and Dave were to sit down. They stopped talking simultaneously, both plastering a strained smile on their faces as she approached.
"We're having a sausage sizzle today," she informed them, waving her plate briefly in their direction before placing it on the table.
"Ah, snags, excellent," Dave said, moving at once to see Freddo.
Seeing Hermione's confused face, Draco's forced smile turned into one of sincere amusement. "Snags is what they call sausages."
"Oh," Hermione said, although her confused expression remained unchanged. She glanced over her shoulder; Dave was talking animatedly with Freddo and out of earshot. "Everything ok with you two?"
Draco screwed up his face and sighed. "I'll have to talk to you about it later, it's not safe at the moment."
As the candidates who finished their second task filed into the mess hall, Hermione nodded. "Understood. You better go get your lunch since you were starving, or they'll think something is up."
He nodded back at her and as he walked past, quickly reached out and squeezed her shoulder lightly. The touch sent goosebumps trailing down her arm and she shivered slightly.
After lunch, the group gathered in the dojo for their final task. Sensei Tully bowed serenely to them as they stood before him, having finally roused from his morning of meditation. In groups of three, they each completed the first two forms of Kata, recited the taekwondo code, ran through their basic kicks, strikes, defence poses and stances. By the end of her turn, Hermione was covered in a light layer of sweat, having given the task her absolute hardest effort. This is, after all, what she had been training for.
By the time it had come to the individual sparring matches, the room felt alive with energy and adrenaline, although it had begun to smell unpleasant and tangy thanks to the amplified amount of body odour.
"Now, I know you are used to training with your sparring partner," Sensei Tully began. "For the purpose of this exam, you will be sparring against one of our agents. You will not know their level of skill beforehand, or what body type they are. Everybody will spar one at a time, with the match ending either when I call it, or if there is a knockout. The rest of the candidates will wait in the foyer. Amelia, you will be first."
Hermione glanced over and could see Amelia's already pale face now devoid of colour. As one, the remaining candidates moved to the foyer. Hermione was a few steps behind them and jumped when she felt a large hand encircle her upper arm.
"I'm giving you a quick warning," a deep, out-of-breath voice reached her ears. It was Chief. His bald head shined with perspiration. Hermione turned ever-so-slightly and gazed up to find his features contorted with concern. "Dave thinks something is up between you and Damo. He's obligated to report his suspicions, it's a story for another day but it's in his magical binding contract. He's setting up your match to be against Damo, and if it looks like Damo is letting you win, or if he goes too easy on you, he will be in the shit. Same goes for you, you cannot look like you are trying anything but your hardest to beat him."
"Understood, Chief," Hermione nodded once, her face set, but her eyes revealed her worry.
"Chief, let's get this going," Draco called from behind them. She knew he meant it as a warning that they needed to stop talking or others would notice it as unusual.
"Good luck," Chief whispered, and let go of her arm. She quickly slipped out of the room and closed the door.
One by one, candidates were called into the Dojo and did not return after their match had been completed. Hermione was soon the last one candidate waiting in the foyer. She assumed Dave had done that on purpose, so that he could have his complete attention on the match. Slowly, she stood and began to stretch to warm her limbs back up.
She could hear the grunts and smacks as blows were hit from behind the door and wondered how everyone else had done. It wasn't facing Draco that was especially bothering her but it was the potential to give away that she felt anything more than professional friendliness towards him that ate away at her heart, driving a fear through her unlike one she had previously ever felt. This feeling was new. She had felt all kinds of fear, from failing exams to being tortured during the War. Fear for herself, fear for her friends, fear for her parents. But she had never the felt fear of losing someone when she had felt like this about them. Not even with Ron. This feeling she had with Draco was new and exciting and she wanted to explore it, not sabotage it before anything had even had the chance to happen.
She resolved to fall back on her training. She had to compartmentalise her mind, push her feelings down, and remain calm and focused. She was not about to face the Draco she knew now, in her mind, she was going to face Draco Malfoy as she knew him, ten years ago. Death Eater Draco. The Draco she had despised for so long. The Draco that had mercilessly teased her and called her a Mudblood. Gradually, as she performed walking lunges across the length of the foyer, her fear was replaced with a driving anger. She tapped into her childhood rage and resentment and let it consume her until her limbs began to shake.
The door to the Dojo swung open and Dave stepped out. "Hermione, you're up."
She didn't even acknowledge him, instead walking straight past him and into the Dojo. There stood Draco, now dressed in the traditional white Taekwondo uniform, a black belt with one white bar at the edges sashed across his hips. She hadn't realised he was so advanced in his training; obviously Sensei Tully thought it would be amusing to set him up with a beginner. She felt her cheeks burn as she realised that he must have been holding back the entire time she had been learning and a fiery beast arose in her chest, infuriated at her fallacy.
Draco tried to give her a reassuring look, his mouth twitching into a small smile, but when he saw her stormy scowl, his face dropped at once, and he instead rearranged his expression to remain neutral. Dave closed the door and stood at the corner of the mat that was centred in the room, fortunately not seeing Draco's moment of familiarity with her. Hermione walked onto the mat, facing Draco and they bowed to each other, fists clenched stiffly at their sides. Sensei Tully moved between them and began the match with a swipe of his hands.
Without giving her a second of warning, Draco launched himself at her, feigning a strike, then spinning and performing a double kick. She had barely any time to defend his attack before he rebounded back a few paces. He bounced on the balls of his feet and she took the short reprieve to strengthen her stance, bringing her arms up in front of her.
Draco dove forward again, this time bringing the swing of his foot all the way to her head. She dodged backwards and almost went over the line of the mat. She kept an eye on him and circled around, moving closer to the middle. This was unlike any other match she had ever had. Draco was powerful, he was extraordinarily fast, and he was very good. She knew he out skilled her, but was determined to beat him. They were both stubborn and she knew they had the same competitive streak, the same desire to win. He darted forward and tried to hook his foot around her ankle in an attempt to bring her down and she jumped, bringing her knees up high and planting one foot into his torso, forcing him back. He rubbed his chest absentmindedly and again bounced on his feet.
They faced each other, a momentary pause passing again as they considered their next moves. Draco attacked again, and this time he was unrelenting. His kicks were unbelievably quick, and Hermione had to spin, twirl, jump and even backflip at one point to avoid getting hit. She needed to get off the defensive and start being the offensive, or this match would be over before she even got a chance to show what she could do.
She feigned dodging left when he attempted a new flurry of kicks at her waist, and he moved to accommodate her new position. Instead she spun again, this time bringing her leg backwards and upwards, hooking it around his neck. In a swirl, she brought her other leg up, twisted her body around his and with incredible force, fell forward and flipped him over so that he landed heavily on the padded mat. She had landed on top of him and had his arm trapped under her knee. In a flash of blind rage she roared, "Hyah!" And brought her flat palm sharply down onto his shoulder. A distinct pop echoed in the room and Draco cried out as his shoulder became dislocated. There was a hiss of sympathetic discontent that ran through the spectators.
"That's match," Sensei Tully called.
"No," Draco growled. "I can still compete."
"Damien, I said match."
"And I said no, Tully," Draco snapped. "This isn't over yet."
Hermione stood, releasing her grip and stepped back a few paces. She could feel the embarrassed energy pulsating off of him but didn't feel an inch of guilt. This was Death Eater Draco, and she needed to defeat him.
She waited until he was on his feet again, silver eyes glinting resolutely, his right arm swinging unnaturally by his side.
"Damien, I must insist you stop! You've only just been healed!" Sensei Tully tried again. But there was no hearing him.
Hermione grunted as she began her attack. Kicking at his chest, swiping her legs at his knees to try and buckle them. He fought as though his arm did not hurt, his strikes still just as powerful.
"This is nuts." Hermione heard Chief say to Dave in the corner, but the words barely registered in her mind. "We need to stop this. It looks like they're going to kill each other."
The blows continued, and Hermione could feel her energy ebb away. They were both getting tired, but were both still determined to win.
"Maybe I was wrong," Dave said in an undertone to Chief. "I honestly didn't think they would be able to fight each other like this. I thought their friendship would get in the way."
"Damien knows how to hide his emotions, I don't know why you're worried about this."
Dave tittered. "Hermione Granger is the most promising candidate we've had come through here since Damien. We need her to pass, and I wasn't sure if this," he waved a hand to encompass the fighting couple. "Would get in the way. I can't recommend her for agency if I wasn't a hundred percent sure they could keep it professional."
"And are you now convinced?" Chief asked, watching as Draco and Hermione continued their assault on each other.
After a minutes pause of contemplation, Dave spoke loud enough for Draco to hear. "I'm convinced. Damien, finish this."
Hermione looked over, distracted by Dave's words and it was in that second of preoccupation that Draco brought his foot up high and crashed it down on her temple. Everything went black.