CHAPTER 23

September 30th 2001

Hermione Granger sat with legs curled on her living room sofa, book in hand. Now that her workload at the ministry had lightened, and the wedding preparations took over, it had left her with a mighty amount of free time. When she had graduated from Hogwarts, there had never been a period where she took time off after defeating the wizarding world's darkest threat. Instead she dove right into the consuming projects dedicated to the magical creature rights. Hermione had not had this much leisure since she was 11. It felt wrong.

Closing her third book for the day, Hermione stood and returned it to the small library bookcase. Now what was she supposed to do? Her and Ron were still not on the best of speaking terms, so neither wanted to visit this weekend.

Heading towards the kitchen, Hermione concluded that perhaps she should enrich her baking abilities. Cupcakes will suffice. Pulling the appropriate utensils and ingredients out onto the kitchen countertop, she preheated her oven and tied an apron around her waist. Forgetting how messy baking can be without a wand, Hermione found herself covered in flour the second she poured it into the bowl. She coughed, brushing her hands together and threw the packet in the bin.

Hermione was not used to being bad at something, therefore it frustrated her that she didn't get off to a good start.

Just as she cracked two eggs against the brim of a separate glass bowl, her floo lit up with a crackle and swish. Green flames diminished as Hermione jumped at the surprise visitor. In the fireplace stood a casually dressed Malfoy. A dark emerald green sweater with black jeans. He grinned at the messy state that she stood in.

"Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed, clutching her chest in fright. "What are you doing? How did you get in here? How did you even know where I lived?"

"Calm down, Granger." He chuckled, stepping out of the floo. "It is not very hard for a ministry official to track where another employee lives, nor is it to get past their barrier wards. You really should look into making those stronger, any wanker could walk into here."

Hermione glared at her coworker, annoyed that he dismissed her boundary so easily. Malfoy had his hands in his pockets and was looking around the living room that was attached to the kitchen. He fiddled with a few objects, picking them up to take a closer look at what she owned.

"And why, may I ask, did you decide to break into my home?" Hermione snapped, crossing her flour covered arms.

"I felt it was only right that I returned the favour after you did the same to me, on two occasions, might I add."

"I, at least, used the front door on my first visit."

Malfoy shrugged, taking a book out of the library and scanning the cover, holding it up to show her what he pulled out. It was 'The Wonderful Wizard of Oz' by Frank Baum, a classic from her childhood.

"I have not heard of this author." He lifted a brow.

"He is a muggle. That is a muggle story." She explained.

Malfoy looked back at the cover title, obviously confused by how a non-wizard writer had knowledge on his world. Hermione knew though that it had no relevance to the truth of the civilization they lived in. But it didn't hurt to not tell him that though.

"I assume you are making an attempt at baking. You know you could just use your wand, right?"

"I know. I just don't like to rely on magic for everything." She replied, unfolding her arms and picking up the wix to stir the eggs.

Malfoy stalked over to where she was standing, inspecting everything on the counter with a hint of judgement. He glared at the bowl full of flour with a furrowed brow.

"Did you sift this?"

"No I-" Hermione began, but stopped in realisation of who she was talking to. "How do you know how to bake?"

Malfoy strutted over to the cupboard near the oven, pointing to it to non-verbally ask if this is where her homeware appliances were kept. She nodded, still curious as to how a pureblood rich boy was so confident in work that would have been done by slaves in his home. He pulled the sift out and brought it over to the bench.

"In order to pass my N.E.W.T.S. I had to make up for my lack of participation prior to the war. Baking was the closest thing to accessible practice for Potions. I used to sneak into the kitchens and the elves would help me with my technique." Malfoy explained.

Hermione watched him seamlessly pour the flour back and forth between two bowls and filter the white powder to a smooth texture. His large pale hands gripped the cups of sugar and tipped it into the mixture before stepping back and giving her a sinister smile. She couldn't help but return the grin.

"I will show you what to do." He flicked his head to encourage her to take over.

"Why do you assume I do not know what I'm doing?" She frowned, a little taken back by his superior comprehension.

"Would it kill you to humble yourself for once, Granger?"

Hermione widened her eyes, in awe of his hypocrisy. But she pushed the comment aside and shoved him with her elbow, taking charge of the task with a straightened back. What a prick.

Malfoy laughed as he held his jabbed stomach. He gave her the bowl of eggs and instructed to whisk them at an angle. She followed his directions, careful not to make a fool of herself to ensure there was no opportunity for him to taunt. The next few steps, Malfoy hovered over her shoulder to make certain these cupcakes were coming out in prime quality. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, and it was intoxicating. It took everything in her not to turn around.

While Hermione folded the mixture with the wooden spoon, she was released from the torture that was the close proximity between her and Malfoy as he stepped away to lean the back of his waist on the counter.

"I find it very odd that you would have spent time in the kitchens with the elves. That was not very pureblood of you." Hermione mumbled.

His lack of response caused her to lift her head. He was looking at her with a broad sneer across his face, and in that moment, it suddenly clicked that he had been lying.

"You're a prat." She growled, gently dropping the bowl back onto the bench. Malfoy cackled, throwing his head back in laughter.

Hermione glared at him with flushed cheeks. So much for not making a fool of herself.

"Do you even know how to bake at all?" She groaned, frustrated that he could still trick her after all these years.

"No." Malfoy breathed out his last laugh. "But it did feel good to have you be so submissive."

"I hate you." Hermione rolled her eyes and took the mixture back, picking up where she left off.

There was a comfortable silence after their last words. Hermione wondered whether Malfoy was one of those people that preferred their women to be compliant in the bedroom. If he took pleasure in taking control. She concluded that it would not be a far-fetched reality, seeing as his entire life he has desired to be dominant.

Hermione could not help herself from thinking about whether or not she would be yielding to his dominion. Would she let him tell her what to do? Would she want to be the one in charge? Would they both equally combine forces and explode in a heated detonation?

Hermione shook her head, stopping herself from getting carried away. This was far too inappropriate for a woman to think about her co-worker. Better yet, incredibly wrong of her to think of having sex with anyone but her fiance. She hated how Malfoy made her feel.

"I think that is mixed enough, Granger." A husky voice interrupted her day dream.

Looking down at the bowl in her hand, she realised that she had probably folded the mix ten times more than it needed. Clearing her throat, and a little embarrassed of her provocative thoughts, Hermione took a spoon and began to pour the liquid into the tray.

Malfoy waited by the oven, opening the door for her to slip the dish in, and closing it once she had finished. They gazed at one another with dancing eyes, unsure of where the other stood. Hermione, being the Gryffindor that she is, broke the tension.

"I am going to go clean up." She turned away from his stare, keeping her head down while trying to take her apron off. Unfortunately, the strings were too tangled.

While her hands played with the knott behind, a tingle was sent down her spine at the contact of Malfoy's fingers taking over. It was like electricity was built within his skin, sparks shooting from his touch. Hermione could feel his knuckles brush her back. It was almost as exhilarating as the heat that radiated from his body to her.

She was in agony.

As Malfoy untangled the tie and pulled the final string, releasing her from the tight apron, he lifted it off her body. Hair rising and falling against her neck from the motion. Hermione felt goosebumps blossom on her skin as he stepped out from behind, folding the apron and placing it nearly on the kitchen tower.

"I can take care of this, while you clean up." Malfoy indicated towards the mess on the kitchen bench. No sign in his voice that he just experienced what she did.

An ashamed Hermione thanked her guest shyly before walking down the hall to her bedroom. Hurrying into her ensuite bathroom she slumped against the door once it was closed. This ever growing affection she seemed to be developing towards her co-worker was getting out of hand. But nothing that was put into place to prevent it was working. Hermione prayed that as soon as she and Ron were married, the flame between her and Malfoy would fizzle out. It had to.

As she got up from the floor and splashed her face with water, Hermione stripped the flour covered clothes off and took a quiz rinse in the shower. The freezing cold water helped cool her body heat down, and settled the burn in her heart. Grabbing a towel, she tiptoed into her closet and picked another set of light blue flare jeans, a white singlet and a pastel green cardigan to wear.

Once she was redressed, Hermione took a deep breath and made her way back to Malfoy. He was standing near the window of her living room, talking to the owl that was dropping off some mail. She smiled at him acting kindly toward the creature... it was a rare sight to see. Looking around to the kitchen, it was now spotless thanks to the Malfoy's obsessive cleaning habits.

"Thank you for tidying up."

"Not a problem, Granger." He replied, swivelling around to face her. By the look on his face it seemed like he was taken back by something. Hermione wiped her face in paranoia that she still had flour on it.

"Do I have something on my face?" She panicked.

"No."

Hermione saw that he was holding a letter in his hand, so she walked over to take it from him. It appeared to be another envelope sent from her anonymous friend. Hermione sighed, ripping it open and unfolding the parchment inside. It read:

Do you miss me?

Rolling her eyes, she crumbled up the paper and tossed it aside. This was getting ridiculous.

"Love letter from the Weasel?" Malfoy snickered.

"Something like that."

A ding resounding from the oven caught their attention. Both witch and wizard wandered over to the kitchen, but only Hermione went over to open it. A wave of heat hit her in the face the moment she pulled the glass door down. The burning sensation immediately spread across her skin. She fumbled backwards covering her eyes in reaction and smashed into the opposite counter.

"Ah!" Hermione hissed, fanning her face to cool the fiery feeling.

"Woah!" Malfoy gasped, leaping to where she stumbled. "What did you do?"

"I-uh-I forgot about the hot air that comes out." She kept her eyes clenched, afraid if there was any damage.

Malfoy grabbed her frantic wrists and steadied them. He took her face into his palms and gently tilted it towards the roof. Hermione could not see what he was doing but she assumed he was inspecting her skin for any burns.

"There is no blistering on your skin. I'll get you a damp cloth."

"Okay." She breathed.

With her eyes still shut, Hermione flinched at the touch of Malfoy softly dabbing her cheeks with the flannel. She had expected him to just hand her the cloth himself, but apparently he chose to help heal her himself. It was awfully intimate.

Hermione fluttered her eyelashes open, and was met with Malfoy's face a few inches from hers. When their gazes met, his movement halted with a hand remaining near her temple. She had never noticed the faint specks of blue in his silver orbs before, but now she couldn't pull her stare away from them.

"Granger…" Malfoy muttered, flicking his eyes between each one of hers.

"Yes?" Hermione sensed her heart beat picking up so much that she could hear it.

"You are a terrible baker."

His joke suddenly broke the heated tension between them. Both the witch and wizard tried to contain their amusement but couldn't resist breaking out in small laughter. Malfoy took his arm away from her face and backed away to retrieve the cupcakes from the oven. Hermione felt a burden of relief lift off her shoulders, grateful for his loathing of muggle-borns. She didn't know what she would have done if he had leant in any further.

Malfoy chose the wiser alternative of using his wand to levitate the tray onto the counter top and lifting each cake onto the cooling rack. She watched in admiration as he pulled the icing out of the fridge that was prepared without her knowing.

"I can never tell whether to trust you or not." Hermione narrowed her eyes, squinting as Malfoy flicked his wand and spread the glaze across the treats.

"Oh, do tell." He replied sarcastically, keeping focus on the task at hand.

"You say that you do not know how to bake, and yet here you are fully capable of manning a kitchen all by yourself. All you do is lie, and it is very hard to differ between fixation and reality."

"That is the beauty of being a Slytherin, Granger." He smirked at the corner of his mouth. "No one can blame me for being the bad guy. It is simply in my nature."

Malfoy handed her a cupcake that was finished. It had pearly white icing with a beautifully soft base, looking absolutely delicious. But she hesitated to bite into it.

"Does Astoria trust you?" Hermione asked a little too confidently, noticing the grin drop from his face. Okay, perhaps she overstepped.

"Yes." He answered bluntly.

"How do you know?"

"Slytherins and Ravenclaws are loyal to one another. It is very hard to break that bond."

Hermione did not know how to respond to what he said, so she took a bite into the cake instead. It was extremely fluffy and full of flavour. Despite the problematic and messy process, the outcome was so worth it. She moaned quietly and licked her lips. Malfoy followed suit and mirrored her actions, clearly in agreement to the taste.

"Head into the living room and I will put the kettle on."

While Malfoy followed her instructions, Hermione did what she needed to get the tea ready. As she waited for the water to boil, it dawned on her how nice it is to be in Malfoy's casual company. As arrogant and narcissistic he was, Hermione always seemed to feel remarkably happy around him. Without the chaos of work and the rush of fights breaking out, with her fiance or hitmen, the two always enjoyed being with one another. That was probably why they deemed it appropriate to drop in uninvited to their respectives houses; their friendship was magnetic and comforting.

Hermione walked into the living room with the tray of tea in hand. Malfoy was sitting on the couch with the crumpled up letter she had thrown away earlier.

"What is this, Granger?" He frowned reading the parchment.

"I threw that away for a reason." She said angrily, frustrated he did not respect her boundaries at all.

"Who is this from?" He ignored her annoyance.

Hermione placed the tea onto the coffee table in the centre of the room and poured the appropriate amount of milk into each cup.

"I am not sure." She replied, adding the extra flavours they both enjoyed and stirred with a spoon.

"Is this the only letter you have gotten from this person?"

Malfoy's rougher tone started to frighten her. By the irritated expression his face held, Hermione gathered that she should probably share the history of the mysterious mail.

"No." She started, taking a seat opposite him on the couch. "The first one came on my birthday with a bouquet of flowers. I assumed they were from Ron but he never mentioned them afterwards. Ever since there have been letters coming arbitrarily. There would be over ten by now."

Malfoy stood and started to pace back and forth with a hand running through his hair. The concern within Hermione started to rise.

"I need you to get those letters for me, Granger." He grumbled, not taking a moment to stop in his steps.

"Should I be concerned?" She asked, already whole heartedly concerned.

"Grab those letters and we shall see."

Hermione promptly stood to her feet and rushed to her bedroom down the hall. Her agitated fingers opened her bedside table and retrieved the pile of parchment hidden within. Scurrying back to Malfoy she handed him the assorted letters.

His pale hands flicked through them with darting eyes, powering reading through each one. Hermione bit her lip, unsettled by the change of atmosphere in the room. It made it worse when he clenched his eyes shut and cursed under his breath.

"What is it?"

Malfoy laid all of the parchment out on the floor, one on top of another with only the first letter of each sentence showing. She bent down onto her knees to take a closer look. With the beginning characters only on show, she read:

YOUAREDEAD

Hermione stopped breathing. Every cell in her body froze.

"What is- Who would send this?" She stammered looking up at Malfoy.

"Lucius." He replied instantaneously.

"What!?" She snapped. "Lucius is gone! He is dead!"

Malfoy hung his head low, almost like he was ashamed of what he was going to say. Hermione dreaded what was about to come out of his mouth.

"Lucious is not dead." He spoke with a low voice. "I am sorry I did not tell you, Granger. Potter discovered a few weeks ago that the body in the morgue did not match my father's. The night of your birthday he came to my house to ask of my involvement in the affair. I had assumed the old tit was hiding for a reason, trying to keep a low profile. But reading these, I was wrong."

"AND WHAT IN YOUR RIGHT MIND MADE YOU THINK IT WAS APPROPRIATE TO KEEP THIS FROM ME?!" Hermione roared, infuriated that she was pushed to the side during such a crucial change of events.

Standing on her feet, she immediately pushed at Malfoy's shoulders, shoving him aggressively to let out her anger. The heavy built man barely nudged at her force, permitting her to release the frustration.

"I am sorry, Granger." He insisted, coping with the abuse.

"I DO NOT CARE FOR YOUR APOLOGY!" She yelled back. "YOU ARE IN DANGER AND YOU KEPT IT HIDDEN DESPITE ME ASKING YOU NOT TO."

Malfoy frowned at her accusation.

"This has nothing to do with my safety, Granger." He growled, causing her to stop hitting him. "You are the one being sent death wishes."

Hermione puffed her chest up and down, trying to catch her breath. A million thoughts were running through her mind. This whole time she had been so focused on a stupid wedding when her friends life was in danger, and a psychopath was now on the loose from his ministry house arrest. They needed a plan yesterday.

"We need to get out of here." She croaked

"What are you talking about, Granger?" Malfoy deepend his brow. "We don't have to run head first into the fire all the time. Let's figure this out."

"No!" Hermione barked back. "We need to go into hiding…"