I Love(d) You (Once)
Chapter Thirty-two: Who's Laughing Now?
One night had passed since they sent the email and Draco had begun to think they had a mistake and the Evil had no involvement with the Ministry. That or the e-mails and Owls were more secure than Hermione thought.
"It's only been a day," Hermione told him. They were in his house, sharing a tub of ice-cream, chatting. Sometime last night, Draco brought blankets over to the couch and now they snuggled together in it. "I guess we can't expect the Evil to be as good as we are in plotting."
Just then, his phone beeped and he rolled over on his stomach to grab his phone by the table. Draco's eyes lit up when he read the message and he sat up straight and kicked the covers off himself. "Let's go to France."
"Huh?"
"It just occurred to me Pucey made sure I installed premium wards around this property so dedicated haters wouldn't be able to find my home and with flaming torches and pitch forks. Anyone with malicious intent would be hard-pressed to find this apartment. That being said, I don't have those wards in my French apartment. Plus, I need to make sure my apartment is still standing; Astoria told me she had just moved out of it."
"Wait, what's this about Astoria?"
Draco shrugged. "I promised she could be a permanent free-loading tenant in my apartment in France if she dropped the charges with you and Pansy. Guess she got bored of the scenery. Anyway, I think this means I have my apartment back. Let's go to France, tip off International Customs we're moving across borders, write down the precise address of where we're going to stay and see if anyone will notice us then."
"All right," she said. "But while we're in Paris we're going to do something other than stay at the house, right?"
"Book-shop diving and dinner?"
"Sounds lovely."
The day drew to a close, and they grew too tired to appreciate the fine sights and smells of France, Draco waved his wand (his apartment was more traditional and his security systems hadn't been renovated in the standard Muggle way) and the door swung open. He waved his wand again and the lights around the house flickered on.
Hermione yawned loudly, and as per Draco's request, kicked off her shoes before she pulled her legs up onto the plush leather couch. "Do you have your wand with you?" (It was code for: Are you keeping first watch?)
Draco sat beside her on a single-seated armchair, stretching and pretended to be drowsier than he was. Not that he wasn't tired, they'd stayed awake since last night and it was no wonder Dr. Hwang had dark circles under his eyes if he had been subjected to something like this for prolonged periods of time.
"You know, as a self-preserving git, you should never let go of your wand." She saw him slumped over in his chair, his legs splayed across the leg-rest. He was being too relaxed. "You know things happen when you least expect it to."
"I could just reach my wand without bending over," Draco said, not about to sit and pick up his wand.
She shifted her hips so one leg dangled off the couch.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Helping you out."
Draco watched as she lifted her right leg up and slid it onto the coffee table. Her toes crept like hands across piano keys, nimbly making its way towards the table surface—and he gasped when he realized what she intended to do!—"Stop! For the love of Merlin and all things pure, stop!"
Despite his vehement processes, he did not leave from his slumped position, choosing instead to sweep his right leg across in hopes to knock and deter Hermione's foot from reaching its goal—his wand. His efforts failed him (most likely because his angle of attack was all wrong and he refused to move) and Hermione grasped ten-inches of hawthorn wood, with unicorn-hair core with her toes. Demonstrating her flexibility, she extended her legs outwards and released her grip on the wand with a fling, hoping the wand would fly a true path and land in Draco's lap.
"Score," she said, as his wand found its resting place in the lap of its owner.
"No, oh Merlin. I cannot—I cannot—" Draco pressed his hand against his forehead. "Do you expect me to touch that after your toes have been… Merlin!"
"Seeing as you would have no problem with my hands touching your wand, my toes feel unrightfully discriminated. My toes are just as good as my hands!" she said, meaning for it to be a joke, but she couldn't see why he would be so disgusted. "My toes are still part of me and it hurts to be reviled by someone who supposedly loves me."
"Oh, what did I do to have to put up with this, Merlin!"
"Awwww come on, it's not that bad!"
"And after all the effort I had to go through to take it back from the Ministry, I had to ask Harry Potter for it back, why, oh—" There was a snort of laughter and Draco glanced at Hermione. "Did you just… snort at me?" he asked.
"Of course not!" she said, grinning.
"Seriously?"
Hermione frowned. Draco's suspicions were correct; she in fact, did not. Seconds ticked by.
"You heard it, right?" he mouthed to her.
She nodded, her eyes growing wide. If she hadn't snorted and they heard the snort in mid-sentence… then someone was in the room with them.
Infected with toe-jam or not, the hunt the intruder down prevailed over hygiene issues (The Evil is here!) and Draco placed a finger on his lips. With a whisper, he summoned Hermione's pouch and she soundlessly retrieved her own wand from it.
"I think it came from behind us," she mouthed to him and he nodded.
"Let's just go to sleep," he said aloud. "I'm going to turn the lights off now. Night."
"Good night."
They could only hear their own breathing (which they kept as quiet as possible) and the chime of the clock, telling them it was past midnight. Hermione saw Draco rise slowly from his position and she followed him, making sure she made no sound. They held their wands in front of them as they moved towards the kitchen, hoping they could catch whoever it was by surprise. He held up a hand and signal with his fingers—three people, he mimed with the signs they used during missions.
She nodded back to him and signed: Are they dangerous?
Draco estimated. Five, six, and six on a Galanis Scale of Danger: 1-3 would be a fourth-year student; 4-6 an experienced duelist; 7-8 a veteran; 9-10 an instrument of death.
Their chances of taking three strange people in their apartment were…
incredibly high.
"Stupefy!" Draco said as he fired a spell to the turned back of the person number Five on the Galanis Scale.
"Stupefy!" Hermione screeched after him, taking one Six down before casting a shield charm to block the hex flying from her from the Other Six.
Draco didn't pause to check if she was all right, opting instead to fire a string of stunning spells to take out their last assailant. The unlucky Other Six, fell victim to three stuns in quick successions and fell to the floor, twitching even after the onslaught of spell-casting ceased.
Hardened by their experiences of war when they were teenagers, training in Salem Institute for three years, the extensive pre-intern course to Pucey and Prewett Company, AND their work experience, Hermione and Draco easily ranked an eight on the Galanis scale.
With the swish of her wand, she turned on all the lights in his apartment. "Let's see what we got here."
The Unlucky Six, still the subject of the end of Draco's foot was a man just about their age, with brown hair, dark skin and a smallish figure. Five, who was slumping across the kitchen floor, his right cheek pressed to the wooden floorboards too had a small built and was dressed in the same uniform the other two were wearing: matte-black cotton clothes that covered their persons from head to toe.
"One thing's certain, they're not your regular burglars." Draco transfigured his fruit-bowl into a long strip of cord while Hermione summoned their wands out of the intruders' grasp—Five's wand had flown to the other side of the kitchen floor due to the strength of Draco's stunning hex—and the two dragged the three assailants so they faced back to back to each other and tied them into a nice and tight bundle.
"Rennervate," said Hermione and she woke Five from his slumber, choosing him because since he was the least skilled out of their group. "What are you doing in here?"
He looked stunned and words tumbled out of his mouth incoherently at the sheer panic of being stunned one moment and bound so tightly he could barely breathe in the next. "Not you, it wasn't supposed to be you."
"What?"
"Let me handle this," Draco said. He sat on the floor so that he was eye-level with Five and said. "Okay, here's the thing. Tell me who you're working for or I'll accidentally zap one off your fingers off."
"I'd rather die," Five responded through clenched teeth.
"Okay," Hermione said, stepping in front of Draco. "He chooses death. Honourable."
"We'll see if the others are just as honourable. Nighty, night." Draco raised his wand and as Five screamed, he fired a hex which clipped Five at his ears. His head flew to the side and he was down.
"Draci!" Hermione screeched. "You could've just used a sleeping charm. That's so dangerous!"
"Rennervate," Draco said, ignoring her but feeling a bit guilty. He was tired and hadn't been thinking properly. "Let's hope this one will be more talkative."
"Don't kill me!" squealed The First Six Hermione Shot Down.
"Much better," she said, satisfied. "Tell us why you are here and who sent you."
"Or choose death." Draco's eyes glinted maliciously and nudged his head towards Five, whose head lolled to the side—the embodiment of lifelessness.
Six's eyes widened and he shook visibly in his bonds. "I-I don't know who hired us. We never know."
"Well I guess you're not much help to us then." Hermione casted a slumber hex on the man and woke up the third person.
She scowled at Hermione when she saw who it was. "If it isn't the Golden Girl." She glared at Draco and spat in his direction. "Traitor."
"She seems to know what's going on," said Hermione. "How did you know we were here and who sent you?"
Six sneered. "Believe it or not. The world doesn't revolve around Draco Malfoy and his darling little mud-trawler."
"That's what she tells me all the time, but in a so much more endearing way." He fired a hex at her which zapped her and sent her toes and fingers tingling. Nothing too painful or inhumane, but enough to persuade someone to talk. Ministry standard! "Who sent you?"
She remained silent. And Draco swore, this was going nowhere. He began muttering under his breath and stared at the woman with unparalleled concentration.
"W-What are you doing?" she asked, and she gasped as Draco began to sift through her memories. She struggled through her body-bind as he began to search through her mind to find out the truth. Interrogation was overrated, Legilmency was the way to go.
"Mrs Greengrass?" Draco gasped.
"What?"
He delved in again.
Draco saw Mrs Greengrass in the middle of a burning house, and if he wasn't mistaken it was Astoria's apartment in England.
"Something must be done… you people, you can deal with pests can't you?"
"For a reasonable price," said Five. "Who do you need dealt with?"
"A werewolf," she said, shaking and handing them a sack of gold. "Kill him but leave my daughter."
"Understood."
"Mrs. Greengrass sent assassins?" Draco said incredulously.
"You mean she sent three people to take care of Astoria Greengrass? Why?" Hermione said, her eyes wide.
"We weren't here to kill person," she snapped. "We were here for animal control."
"I thought maybe she returned the apartment because she was nice, but it was because she knew you were coming," said Draco, filling in the missing blanks.
"When we showed up," Hermione said, "they obviously panicked and hid. All was going well until everything was foiled by a snort."
Six cast a glare at Five who apparently had a decent sense of humour out of the three. Draco was on his feet and he activated a ward which notified the Ministry of Law Enforcement who dispatched a team, in two minutes after hearing the signal. The intruders were apprehended and escorted away.
After the whole commotion, Draco closed the door behind them and ran his hands through his hair, completely buzzed. The rush of adrenaline had sung in his veins and it would be hours before he calmed enough to fall asleep.
"I just can't believe someone would be after Nott just because he's a werewolf! That's ridiculous!"
Draco placed his hands in hers and squeezed it. "Mrs. Greengrass has always been quite traditional. It's er… traditional pureblood practice to get rid of potential suitors who stray too close to your heir. Of course, I've only ever read it in our family history books, never thought I would see this happen."
"You mean, if their parents dislike who their son or daughters' are going to marry, they'd just discreetly kill them off?"
"Well…" Draco squeezed Hermione's hand. "Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen to you." He cracked a smile. "Although my last name is Malfoy, I'm technically under Pucey's care so unless you really, really annoy him you should be fine from suitor-killings."
"Merlin," Hermione said, shaking her head unable to fathom yet another sub-vocalised tradition. Her mind naturally drifted to one question. "Hey, say if your mother didn't approve of me, would she do the same…?" she started.
"If she does, make sure you tell me. But I have to add, the tradition is really, really old, it's frowned upon and it's when there is no option and the heir is about to elope…"
She shifted uncomfortably. "I get it. She'd have to wedding bells ring before she decides that, right?"
"Yeah," Draco said, dodging her gaze. "So you're safe… for now." He grimaced: this had to be the worst not-proposal ever.
"Glad to know."