Side-along Apparition had never sat well with Hermione. She had passed her Apparition Test with flying colours of course, but being the person pulled through both time and space on the arm of another witch or wizard involved giving up too much control for Hermione's liking.
When she and Harry landed at the Apparition point she quickly removed her hand from the crook of Harry's arm while subtly checking herself over for anything that might be amiss. The last time she had side-alonged with Ron he had splinched one half of her left eyebrow and it had taken months to grow back.
The Apparition point was situated just outside the gaping entrance of a large cave that served as Azkaban's front door. The stone beneath her feet was damp with the force of the wind that sent massive waves careening into the great rock island.
The weather at Azkaban never seemed to change, it was always covered in a constant state of mist or fog. It was always overcast, the clouds threatening to spill over at any moment sending a torrential downpour over the triangular prison. The wind whipped at her hair and she wished desperately that she had brought a robe with her, or anything other than the muggle clothes she had worn last night.
Her hands tried to rub some warmth back into her upper arms while Harry attempted to talk to her over the roaring maelstrom.
She couldn't hear him and he resorted to just grabbing her arm and tugging her along towards the large stone doors set just beyond the mouth of a cave.
Hermione was grateful for the awning that provided reprieve from the rain. Her hair had been ripped from her hastily made top knot and now dripped cold water over her shoulders and between her breasts causing her to shiver violently.
"Blimey, 'Mione." Harry was looking at her in the concerned way of his. "I should have given you my cloak or something."
He made to pull the black cloak off his shoulders and give it to her but she shook her head, sending rogue water droplets in every direction. Harry blinked them out of his eyes.
"No need now, lets just get inside."
Harry conjured his badge to present to the haggard looking wizard guarding the doors and he let them through to the dank stone passages running through the prison. It seemed to be a formality because the man was in a nervous awe at seeing Harry Potter. When his eyes landed on Hermione he seemed to recognize her as well.
He gave them directions to the holding cells and sent them on their way.
"Hermione," Harry started, breaking up the repetitive sound of their shoes hitting the damp stone. "I think you should prepare yourself for what Ron might . . . you know, look like."
"I'm hardly a delicate flower, Harry Potter." She scolded watching the misty blue hue of her otter floating playfully between the strong marrow of Harry's stags antlers.
"I saw him just last month." Harry admitted sheepishly. No one had seen or heard from Ron since last Christmas - or so she'd thought. "Merlin . . ." Harry sounded tired as he scratched at his eyebrow. "It's bad."
"Do the Weasley's know?"
"No. I've kept tabs on him since he started - well, you know."
"Using."
Harry cringed at the word.
They stopped at a nondescript stone door that looked exactly like the dozens of others in the narrow hallway save for the crudely carved number in the stone. Harry waved his wand and the stone slowly started to drag itself over the floor. The sound of stone scraping stone drew the attention of the room's single occupant as they stepped through, the door closed quickly behind them.
Hermione wanted to cry but all she could manage was a weak exhale of breath.
Ronald Weasley's eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with a striking red, they looked so dry Hermione expected it was probably painful for him to blink. His shoulders hunched over his slight frame making his emaciated body look almost concave.
He was almost as thin as her.
His once impressive stature and thick muscles were a forgotten memory and the bruises under his eyes were so prominent the colour bled onto his sallow cheeks. His skin was paper thin and sagged on his face. The yellow pallor would have clashed horribly with his ginger hair had it not hung limp and nearly colourless over his shoulders.
At some point her fingers had come to press against her mouth as if to hold her sobs tight in her chest. She was still standing at the door while Harry had sat down in one of the two chairs opposite Ron.
"Bloody hell." His voice was either scratchy from disuse or perhaps the Snake Dust had already eaten away at his nasal passages. "I told Kingsley to Floo you hours ago! Can we get out of here now? Blimey, Hermione. You look worse than I do."
She had meant to cast a drying spell on herself after she'd gotten out of the rain but had forgotten. She didn't think she could manage even the simplest of incantations now that she'd seen him.
"Ron . . ." Harry trailed off meaningfully while he conjured a stack of paper that Hermione expected was the case file he'd been looking over at The Burrow. "It isn't that simple."
"Of course it is, Harry!" Ron said, lifting his eyes to his friend. "Blimey, you're Harry Potter. Make some grand speech, do your little Saviour of the World dance, and get me the bloody hell out of here."
Harry's eyes slid to Hermione who still stood in the doorway with her hand pressed to her lips.
"You were caught using in a fitting room of a ladies clothing store." Harry sucked in a breath, eyes focused on the papers in front of him. "They are accusing you of assault as well as possession of an illegal magical substance."
"I didn't assault anyone!" He bellowed, his voice catching on the last syllable and sending him into an intense coughing fit. "I fell over when that barmy witch blasted open the door! I can't be held responsible for where my hands landed!"
"You used stunners on the Aurors who showed up at the scene, Ron." Harry sighed again. "Even that is punishable by law."
Ron paled as if he'd forgotten that part of the story and finally his gaze slid to Hermione. There was an unhinged gleam in his eye that made Hermione's breath catch for the umpteenth time in the last few minutes.
"'Mione, Hermione." He muttered. "You can fix this can't you? You can fix anything with a few books and a good hunch."
He was rushing his words and they blended together too fast for Hermione's brain to understand.
"Hermione Granger - brightest witch of our year!" A desperate smile pulled at his mouth and a single drop of blood gathered where the action had split his dry lip. "You can help me fix it, can't you? You and Harry will help me. Merlin knows the two of you have gotten me out of worse spots. Help me, 'Mione. Help me like you always do."
Hermione's knees buckled and she staggered back a step, her back hitting the stone door. The cold roughness jolted her back to reality and she looked at Harry who was staring at her with sympathy.
"I just, I simply need - a moment." She breathed. "Just a moment."
She waved her wand and slid quickly from the room as soon as she could slide through the opening.
"'MIONE!" Ron bellowed, making her slam her eyes shut as she leaned against the cold stone. "HERMIONE!"
She slid to the floor.
Her breathing was irregular and her wand clattered out of her trembling hands.
I just need a moment.
I just need a moment.
I just need a moment.
"Granger?"
"I just need a moment."
Had that been her voice? She sounded like she was underwater, or very far away from her body.
"Ms. Granger!" A pair of warm hands encircled her upper arms and pulled her up from the floor. When Hermione's eyes focused she could see that Lucy Covings was staring at her, her eyes roving quickly over the features of her face to determine if there was something physically wrong with her.
Over Lucy's shoulder, Draco Malfoy stood silently watching the ordeal with a frown at his elegant mouth.
"S-sorry." She muttered her eyes stuck on the silver of Malfoy's irises. "I just needed a moment."
"Yes." Malfoy drawled. "You said that. A few times - while rocking back and forth. What in Salazar's name is going on, Granger."
He was frowning at her and her appearance.
"Mr. Malfoy." Lucy scolded, pulling Hermione into her slightly. "Have some human decency. She's having a fit."
Draco rolled his eyes.
"Yes, Ms. Covings. I can see that. I'm trying to uncover why Ms. Granger is muttering to herself in the bowels of a prison run by Dementor's with no Patronus and seemingly lacking her wits."
Hermione noticed that with the presence of the incorporeal blue Dolphin she felt like she could breath again and stood a little taller, pulling away from Lucy's friendly embrace.
"I'm fine." She said, pulling her hair over one side of her shoulder and realizing that it was still dripping wet from the rain. She was also in the same drenched clothes from last night and figured Malfoy was probably silently judging her for it.
"Oh yes, Granger." Malfoy mocked her. "You look fine."
He waved his wand over her quickly and she felt a modicum of fear before the damp clothes she was wearing seemed to unstick from her skin and her hair stopped sending cascades of icy water over her shoulders.
She had been about to thank Malfoy for the drying spell, as embarrassed as she might have been that she still hadn't done it herself, when she was interrupted by the sound of the stone door to Ron's holding cell sliding open.
"Hermione, are you alright?" Harry asked emerging from the holding cell. He stopped when he saw she was not alone. "Malfoy, what are you doing here?"
There was no malice in Harry's tone, just genuine curiosity.
"Meeting with a prisoner. Harold Parkinson was detained a few months ago and questioned about the cursed objects in his families estate. He neglected to tell us of a copy of one of Gilderoy Lockheart's rubbish book that had a nasty sleeping curse on it." Malfoy's eyes simmered with anger at the memory of the oversight and Hermione found herself enjoying the sight. "One of my best Breaker's touched it and has been asleep for two weeks. I'm hoping Parkinson will be a little more forthcoming after his little vacation to Dementor Island."
"I suggested true loves kiss." Lucy smiled, obvious trying to lighten the mood. "Mr. Malfoy then suggested that he sack me."
Malfoy smirked. "I threaten to sack you at least once a week, I'm sure it was unsurprising."
"And yet . . ." She gestured to herself, standing beside Malfoy. "Here I stand."
Harry looked amused at the banter before he remembered himself and Hermione.
"What are the two of your doing here on a Saturday?" Lucy prompted. "I thought Mr. Malfoy was the only one who chose to work over the weekend."
Harry cleared his throat awkwardly and Hermione threw her shoulders back. She'd not made herself the most useful during this whole ordeal, hoping Harry would take the reigns while she descended into a fit. She was going to make up for that now.
"Auror business." She said, curt.
Malfoy scoffed.
"The Head Librarian, recruited for official DMLE business - dressed like that." He gave her a pointed once over and put his hands in the pockets of his thick black cloak. "No holes whatsoever in that story, Granger."
"You'll have to excuse Mr. Malfoy." Lucy cut it with a withering glare at her boss. "He hasn't had near enough coffee to resemble a functioning Wizard this morning."
Harry tried to cover his snort of laughter with a cough.
"Well," He said trying to hide his obvious amusement as he glanced at Hermione. "Nothing more we can do from here. It was nice to see you Malfoy and . . ."
"Lucy Covings." The assistant supplied.
"Ms. Covings, yes. Well, come on Hermione."
Harry put his hand on the small of her back and began to guide her back down the narrow stone hallway where their Patronus' were waiting. Slender fingers, warmer than she would have thought gently fastened around her bare wrist and before she knew what was happening Malfoy had slipped his expensive cloak over her shoulders.
She was instantly awash in warmth, whether a charm had been placed on the fabric or whether it was just his own body heat, she wasn't sure. The smell was most definitely him, fresh linen and something heady that brought forth imagery of an ornate mahogany desk.
He was walking briskly away before she knew it, Lucy trailing behind him concealing a secret smile on her face.
.
Hermione took her lunch with Harry the following Monday. They had spent all weekend meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt and a few other Ministry staff members that her and Harry had personal relationships with. If Ron's case went to trial it could prove fruitful to have sway with the Wizengamont.
The pair had even met with Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts in hopes of persuading her to be a character witness if need be.
They sat in Harry's office, still discussing the case over a cob salad when Harry looked to her with a small smile on his face.
"I've been thinking about Malfoy." He said casually and Hermione's eyes snapped up at the mention of his name. She still had his cloak in her office and had been secretly ruminating over the week as to how best to return it to him without actually having to see him.
"How very sixth year of you, Harry." She teased, trying to remain nonchalant.
What about their encounter with Draco Malfoy had caught Harry's attention?
Was it how she had inhaled his scent so deeply that she had missed his warning about Apparating and ended up sprawled out over the Burrow's kitchen floor?
"I can't believe he lets his Assistant talk to him the way she does."
Hermione heaved a sigh of relief. She had reacted the same way the first time she had seen them interact, too.
"It's almost friendly." Harry explained. "So unlike how I pictured he would behave once he was promoted to Head Curse Breaker. His assistant is almost motherly . . . It was - well, it was nice."
"Maybe Malfoy just needs a firm hand." Hermione his her smile behind her fork, remembering Lucy's words from their lunch last week. That had been her explanation for the strange relationship.
"I just can't even really believe I witnessed that."
"Have you ever worked with him on a project?" She questioned, happy for the new topic of conversation. She was mentally drained after a weekend of trying to sort out Ron's legal issues and if she was being honest, Draco Malfoy had officially peaked her interest.
"Never had the pleasure." He laughed. "I truly expect it would be if Lucy were around."
.
"Are you going to tell me?" Malfoy didn't even glance up at her when she entered his office, his cloak slung over one arm.
She knew he was talking about their run in at Azkaban and her spine stiffened at his tone.
"You're entitlement really knows no bounds."
"Apparently." He drawled and then looked up at her from his desk. "Well?"
"Just what is it that you feel you have the right to know, Malfoy?"
He sat back in his chair with an easy smile. "Daft is not a good look on you, Granger."
She bristled and huffed out an annoyed breath.
"I was visiting a friend."
"Weasley." He nodded, his slender fingers tapping a beat against his desk.
Her jaw dropped and then she pursed her lips.
"If you knew already, why did you ask?" She demanded.
"I wanted to see if you might craft another disappointingly patched up lie." A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "As a Slytherin I can not only lie with an ability that obviously exceeds yours, I can also identify them with astounding accuracy. You were rather obvious with your unfortunate penchant for Gryffindor candour. I guess lying just isn't your forte, Ms. Granger."
Her face heated and his smile grew.
"Sod off, Malfoy." She grumbled petulantly and balled his expensive cloak up in her hands. She tossed it at his face and left with a satisfied smile when she watched it hit him and crumple into his lap, leaving in its wake a rather surprised look on his pointy face.
.
Ron was released from Azkaban on the following Friday and confined to the Burrow on temporary house arrest. It looked as though all of her and Harry's posturing had paid off, though the resulting tension between the Weasley's was an unforeseen consequence.
He was a shell of his former self and his family had no idea how to interact with him anymore.
Molly had taken to the kitchen and had barely left it since Ron's return. The counters and tabletops were shrouded in various baked goods and only increasing in volume. Molly was baking and cooking at a more intense rate than her family was able to eat, which had seemed an impossibility before now.
Arthur Weasley was another prominent reason Ron was released from Azkaban so quickly. As a retired Ministry employee still in good standing with the Minister the Weasley patriarch was solely responsible for his wayward sons confinement.
George spent a lot of time showing Ron the newest creations for the joke shop and Ginny, who had tried her hardest to act normally around him had stopped visiting after their latest blow up argument. Ginny and Ron had always been the most textbook definition of siblings, one upping each other at every chance and getting in heated debates - only now things had reached a more volatile state of rivalry.
Ron had been asking for Hermione, according to all of Mrs. Weasley's unreturned owls. She couldn't bring herself to visit with her friend anymore than she could bring herself to reply to Molly's owls.
One full week later and she still hadn't been able to.
A knock on her flat door broke her staring contest with the fireplace.
"Hermione, dear." Lathinia was smirking at her when she opened the door. "I've barely seen you all week!"
Hermione stood aside and let the witch in.
"I've been meaning to ask you about that handsome gentlemen with the striking blonde hair." Lathinia trailed off, a lilt of amusement and cunning in her voice as she turned to face Hermione.
"You mean Draco Malfoy?"
"Malfoy?" Lathinia's brows scrunched together on her forehead and she muttered to herself, "I suppose that makes sense."
"What about him?" Hermione pressed.
"He's been downstairs at the bar all week." Her smile was back in full force as she seated herself on Hermione's worn brown leather couch. "Sometimes with that other wizard, also of the attractive sort. Brown hair, tall, gleaming eyes . . ."
Hermione didn't know why she was telling her all of this. She was hardly Malfoy's keeper and if he wanted to develop a drinking problem then that was his prerogative however, her heart did start beating a smudge harder at the thought that he had been just below her feet all week.
"Mostly alone, though." Lathina continued. "He sits there and orders a few drinks only to stair at the doorway to your staircase most of the night."
Hermione squared her shoulders.
"Is he bothering you?"
"No, no." She shook her head and her smile widened. "He's rather nice to look at when there's a lull in business. I just thought that because he seems to be waiting for you and yet not divulging to you that he's here . . ."
"Yes." Hermione nodded resolutely. "I'll deal with it."
"Hermione! Really, there's nothing to deal with - I just thought you'd like to know that a handsome wizard seems to be very preoccupied with seeing you . . ."
Hermione barely heard the rest of Lathinia's soliloquy because she was already headed downstairs to give Malfoy a piece of her mind.
The bar was slightly less busy than usual for a Friday night, but as it was early in the evening Hermione didn't expect it to last. It didn't take her long to spot Malfoy, his silver hair glinting richly in the dim lighting.
He'd been watching the doorway.
She stomped purposely over to where he sat at the bar in the same spot as the last time he was here.
"You're setting Lathinia on edge." She peered down at him with her arms crossed over her chest.
"Her appreciative glances suggest that you are correct." He was tilting a beautiful tumbler full of amber liquid in his hand.
She had never seen such an expensive looking glass at The Splintered Wand and she wondered if maybe Lathinia was on a different kind of edge than she had thought if she was dishing out the finer glassware.
"What are you doing here?"
"Enjoying a subpar glass of whiskey, Granger. What does it look like?"
"It looks like you've been here everyday this week and I can't possibly deduce why."
"Not for the ambiance."
"Then what?"
"Sit down, Granger." He demanded, finally looking up at her.
"I'd rather stand." Her tone was haughty and she hated how it reminded her of Umbridge but something about Draco Malfoy brought out all of her less than attractive defences.
"Are you always this difficult?" He scoffed and pulled out the stool next to him as though he hadn't heard her decline.
"Only when the situation demands it." She matched his condescending tone.
"I'm assuming I'm the 'situation' in this matter and as such, I am demanding that you sit down." The last two words he annunciated with such finality that her knees actually buckled as though her body was more keen to obey him than herself.
They stared at each other for a tense moment before Hermione heaved a great sigh of trepidation and slumped into the stool beside him.
"Taxing witch." He muttered.
She glared.
"I can leave, you know."
"Aren't you interested in why I wished to speak with you?"
"No." It was a lie.
"Liar."
"I thought we established that I am a terrible liar." She pursed her lips.
"Which is exactly why I know you are interested." His eyes flashed devilishly with innuendo and she flushed all the way down to her chest. Before she could adamantly deny whatever he was implying he began speaking again. "I have a rather difficult project I'm working on right now and I wanted to request a partnership of sorts."
"With me?"
"Obviously."
"Why?"
"You're the Head Librarian, Granger." He eyed her like she'd asked a stupid question and she bristled. "You have a veritable feast of knowledge in that pretty head of yours with access to even more, assuming you haven't read every text in that library yet."
Her mouth popped open.
"Don't look so surprised, Granger." He tipped his tumbler to his mouth gracefully and she wondered if Madam DeCrois had taught him how to make his mouth look so appealing while he did. "I find it to be a grave oversight that more Ministry employees haven't recruited you to assist with more projects."
"I, erm - I tend to agree."
"Of course you do." He cleared his throat and swivelled in his chair to regard her, his knee brushed hers as he leaned over to put his hands on the seat of her stool and swivel her chair to face him.
Her knees were trapped in between his now and she seemed to have trouble focusing on anything else besides his close proximity.
"You know you want to get out of that library. Every once in a while, at least." His voice was low as he peered at her intently.
He was so close.
"You must be craving something more."
She was.
"Help me solve a problem, Granger."
His voice had taken on a sinful quality as though he was trying to seduce her into bed and not into a working partnership.
"I know you get off on it."
A strangled sort of whine escaped her lips, surprising her. She leaned as far away from him as possible and wrenched her stool around so she was facing the bar again.
He looked surprised as well, when she dared to look at his face. His jaw was slack and his eyes were black.
The expression startled her and she slid off the stool, stepping two giant paces backwards and away from his predatory gaze. With her actions the lust filled look melted from his eyes and he righted his posture, stepped elegantly off the rickety stool and allowed that cool mask of indifference to slide over his features.
Watching it happen, watching him switch so easily back into the persona he preferred others to see, was something Hermione found to be fascinating.
"Let me know on Monday, Granger."
He slapped a coin purse on the bar and exited swiftly.