The Revenant (Part 7)
When Draco emerged from the Floo, he felt mildly disoriented. As a rule, he never traveled by Floo powder, but his thoughts were currently too scattered to risk Apparition. The last thing he wanted was to end up splinched. When he stepped out of the fireplace and into his and Hermione's flat, he caught her deep in conversation with Anthony Goldstein, who was holding her hands and speaking to her in a pleading voice.
"Please, Hermione, I'm begging you to reconsider," he was saying. When he noticed Draco standing there, he scowled darkly. Hermione pulled away from him and wiped a few tears from her cheeks. She looked miserable, and Draco immediately wished he could rip off Anthony's limbs and beat him over the head with them for whatever he had done to make her feel that way.
"What's going on?" Draco demanded.
"Anthony was just leaving," said Hermione. Anthony dropped her hands and backed away from her, looking angry and mildly disgusted.
"Fine," he muttered. "Have it your way, Hermione. But I promise you, you'll regret this."
Draco's hand twitched in the direction of his wand.
"I believe she just asked you to leave, Goldstein," he said in a warning tone. Anthony intentionally jostled his shoulder as he walked past him and tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. The flames roared a brilliant green color, and with one last glare in Draco's direction, he stepped into the fire and disappeared. Once he was gone, Draco relaxed somewhat, and set Hermione's gold keepsake box on the mantelpiece. When she saw it, her eyes widened, but she made no comment.
"Hermione, what the hell is going on? I would have thought Goldstein would be ecstatic when you told him the news about us finalizing our divorce," he said bitterly. "I imagined the two of you would be out celebrating the fact that I'll finally be out of the picture, and you can move on with –"
He fell silent as Hermione held up her left hand, and he noted that her engagement ring was absent. His eyes flicked back up to her face.
"You broke off your engagement," he said in disbelief.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"You shouldn't ask questions that you already know the answer to."
For a few moments, Draco was silent, absorbing the full meaning of her statement. Then he pulled the divorce papers out of his pocket, crossed the room, and handed them over to her. She flipped through the pages and gave him a piercing look.
"You didn't sign them," she said.
"No."
"Draco…"
"Look, I know we've been through a lot, and I know I can't even begin to make up for what I've done, but I refuse to give up on us. And I know you haven't given up on us, either. I found the wedding ring in your desk drawer. You lied to me. You never sold it."
"Okay, I lied. I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it. I couldn't let it go, because I… I couldn't let you go. But that doesn't mean that this marriage will work, Draco."
"Then we'll go to counseling, couple's therapy - whatever it takes," he insisted.
"It'll take a miracle, is what it will take. We fight constantly. We always have."
"Yeah, but the make-up sex is amazing."
"We're constantly in miscommunication with each other."
"Not when we use body language instead." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Hermione couldn't seem to restrain herself from grinning at that one. Then her smile faded as quickly as it had appeared.
"You left me. As noble as your intentions were, it doesn't erase the fact that you left."
Draco sighed and moved closer to her – close enough to touch her if he wanted to. And he did want to, more than anything. The kiss he had shared with her earlier that afternoon had merely whetted his appetite, leaving him overwhelmed with the need to kiss her again. And behind a veil of reluctance and uncertainty, he thought he saw the same desire reflected in Hermione's eyes as well.
"Hermione, I left because I thought it was the only way to keep you safe. It was a mistake, and I'm sorry for it. But I think… I think I needed to see the world, and see how fucked up it is, before I realized how lucky I really am. I think the whole time I was away, I was looking for something."
"What was that?"
"Something worth fighting for."
"And did you find it, Draco? Did you find something worth fighting for?"
"Yes," he whispered. "You."
Hermione stood silently staring up at him, and with each passing moment, Draco's anxiety grew as he waited for her to respond. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, as if searching for the right words to say. Finally, she seemed to give up on speech altogether. To his astonishment, she took the divorce papers in both hands, and began ripping them to shreds. As he watched the scraps of paper flutter to the floor like a flock of angry birds, something inside of him seemed to break loose.
He gathered Hermione in his arms and pressed his lips fiercely to hers. Then she was kissing him back, and Draco could feel the final wall between them crumbling away. There were no more barriers, and it made him feel naked and vulnerable, but free at the same time. He put everything he had into their kiss – poured all of his grief, fear, and joy into it, until he felt as if he had emptied out his soul and poured it into her. He spread his hands against the small of her back, pulling her body flush against his, while she began clawing frantically at his shirt. She unbuttoned it and slid the expensive material off his shoulders to let it drop to the floor. Then her hands and mouth were everywhere at once, exploring his chest, his neck, his stomach…
Draco groaned at the overwhelming sensation. Merlin it had been so long - so damn long - since anyone had touched him this way. His skin felt hypersensitive to every kiss and caress Hermione bestowed upon it. When he thought he would explode if he had to endure the sweet torture any longer, he pushed her gently away, and began fumbling with the hem of her jumper. Realizing his intentions, she helped him pull it over her head and drop it on top of his discarded shirt. Then she reached behind her back, undid the clasp of her bra, and added it to the growing pile of clothing.
Draco stared and stared, drinking in the sight of her and thinking that she had never looked so beautiful. His eyes raked hungrily over the curves of her hips, her slender waist, and her breasts, which were heavy with desire. Her dusky nipples hardened from the combination of his heated gaze and the cool air in the room. Then he let his hands follow the same path his eyes had just taken, as he traced every curve and dimple of her body, relearning the texture of her skin. At first his touch was timid, as he waited to see her reaction. But soon the awkwardness between them melted away, and as she responded enthusiastically to his ministrations, his caresses became firmer and more confident.
Hermione's head fell back and her eyes drifted closed as he explored her stomach, which was even softer than he remembered. When his hands went to cup her breasts, she let out a moan of need and arched into his touch. He circled her hardened nipples with his thumbs, causing her to hiss with pleasure and grip his shoulders tightly, so that she left tiny crescent marks with her fingernails. Next he tore off her skirt and panties, and while she stepped out of them and kicked them aside, she unbuttoned his trousers. She bent down to slide his pants and boxers over his hips, and when his growing erection sprang free of its confinement, she paused with her face just inches away from it. Draco could feel the heat of her breath against his cock, and he quickly grasped her arms and tugged her upright.
"Later," he growled. "I need to be inside of you. Now." He brought his mouth crashing down on hers once more, and there was no longer any hesitation or uncertainty in their kiss. They kissed just as they did anything else in life – aggressively and passionately, with each of them grappling for dominance over the other.
Through a fog of need and desire, Draco tried to think of the best way to transport the two of them to the bedroom, but when Hermione gave his cock an urgent stroke with her hand, any thoughts of relocating their tryst flew out the window. With growing impatience, he grabbed her by the hips and hoisted her up against the wall. She gasped, and he looked down at her with concern, afraid that he had hurt her by banging her injured head in the process. But there was no pain in her brown eyes - only a burning, all-consuming desire.
"Draco, please," she whispered. She wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him in even closer, and he very nearly came right then. He began brushing the head of his cock against her slick folds, discovering that she was already wet and ready for him. Both of them were trembling like leaves, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. He knew, guiltily, that after three years of self-imposed celibacy, this first time would not be gentle, nor would it last very long. But he consoled himself with knowing that he would make it up to her later. Many times, in fact. With another deep breath, he was sinking into her, until he was buried to the root in her warm depths.
"God, Hermione," he groaned. His head fell forward to rest on her shoulder as he tried to gather his senses. She stroked his back reassuringly, and he pulled out and sank into her again, making both of them moan from the friction. The pleasure was almost unbearable. At first his movements were excruciatingly slow, but then he picked up speed, moving faster and deeper with each successive thrust. Soon they were both covered in a fine sheen of sweat, making it more difficult for him to maintain his grip on her, and his arms and thighs were burning from the strain, but he couldn't bring himself to care. All of this was lost in the taste of Hermione's lips and the feel of her hands as they explored all the places where their bodies joined.
"Missed you…so much," Draco rasped. "Love you…always loved you."
"Love you…too," she said, just as breathlessly. "More than anything. Draco…I've been so stupid."
"Say it again," he whispered.
"I've been so stupid."
"No, not that." He laughed, but in his breathlessness, it came out more like a wheeze. "Say that you love me."
"I love you, Draco."
"Again," he demanded, as he squeezed one hand in between them to stroke her sensitive clit. She gasped and twitched at his touch.
"I love you. I love you. I love…I...Oh god, Draco!" she cried out as he gave her clit one last pinch with his fingers, bringing her to climax. As she convulsed in his arms, her head lolling back against the wall, as he began thrusting even harder than before. He could feel his own orgasm building, but he forced himself to focus on Hermione, with her flushed cheeks, and her moist lips parted in a silent scream of pleasure. He had been deprived of the sight of her face for so long, that he didn't want to lose sight of it again, not even for a moment. Then he was struck with the most intense orgasm of his life, and he had to bury his face in the crook of her neck to stifle a shout as he came, spilling his release deep inside of her.
Draco's knees nearly buckled with exhaustion as he set Hermione awkwardly back on the ground. He kept one arm looped around her waist, and used the other to brace himself against the wall. They were both breathing as hard as if they had just run a marathon. And in a way, maybe they had. Hermione reached up to brush his sweaty fringe out of his eyes, and he couldn't restrain himself from giving her a cocky grin.
"See?" he said. "I told you we're good at body language."
"Draco, I don't think-"
"I swear to God, Hermione, if you say this was a bad idea, I'll bite you."
She chuckled and playfully brushed the tip of her nose against his.
"What I was going to say, before you so rudely interrupted, is that I don't think we should stand around here all night. Perhaps we could find somewhere a bit more comfortable to continue this…conversation?"
"Now that's a good idea," he said with a grin. Then he scooped his wife up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom, having no intentions of them leaving it again for a very, very long time.
It was cold in the desert at night. Even after years of living in this climate, that fact still surprised him. It was strange to think that a place that was blistering hot during the day could be so frigid after sunset. He had to cast several warming charms before his fingers thawed out enough for him to flip the pages of the book he had resting in his lap. Even so, the desert was peaceful, and the stars seemed close enough for him to reach up and pluck them out of the sky. The moon was shining brightly, illuminating the sand with its white light, so that the dunes looked like waves in an endless ocean stretching out from the campsite in every direction.
Draco ran his fingers thoughtfully down the spine of Hermione's copy of "The Complete Works of Shakespeare". It had been nearly three years since he left her, and still he dreamed about her every night. Sometimes the dreams were nightmares about the day she was kidnapped, and he awoke in a cold sweat, clutching his wand as if it were a lifeline. Other times, the dreams were full of pleasant memories, and in a way, these were even harder to awaken from. Then he was full of a longing so intense, it was almost physically painful.
Slowly, he traced the neat, curly letters of her inscription on the inside cover: "Property of Hermione Jean Granger". Whenever he read the book, he felt closer to her. Every time he opened it, he discovered something new – a favorite passage she had underlined, or a funny comment she made in the margins. Even when they were on different continents, she never failed to surprise and intrigue him.
"You should be more careful, Mr. Draco. With your white face and hair glowing in the moonlight, the enemy could spot you from many kilometers away."
Draco turned to see Rami, one of his Special Ops Aurors, approaching. He was the closest thing to a friend that he had in that corner of the world.
"There are so many Disillusionment Charms on this camp, if you wandered too far to take a piss, you wouldn't be able to find your way back to it," Draco joked in reply. The tall, broad-shouldered man chuckled and sat on the rock outcropping beside him, glancing at the large tome in his lap.
"What are you reading?"
"Shakespeare," Draco answered, letting the front cover of the book fall shut.
"Ah, yes," Rami replied, his teeth gleaming brightly in his dark face. "'To be or not to be? That is the question.' You are a mystery to me, Mr. Draco. You do not strike me as the type of man who would read Muggle literature."
"Just as a Pureblood wizard like you doesn't strike me as the sort who would believe in Muggle religion."
"My wife was a Muggle, and a follower of Islam," Rami said with a shrug.
"I see. Well, my wife liked Shakespeare. This book used to be hers."
Rami glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.
"That is the first time I have heard you mention her. What was she like, your wife?"
"Smart," Draco said with a wistful smile. "Beautiful. Stubborn as hell."
Rami laughed at this.
"She sounds like your perfect match, Mr. Draco."
"She was." Draco's smile faded, and for a few moments, the two men sat in silence, staring out at the empty desert.
"You lost her," Rami said after awhile. It was not a question.
"She was taken from me, yes." After all, it wasn't a lie. Not really. "How did you know?"
"When a man experiences a loss that great, it leaves a mark. When first I met you, I knew you had lost someone. And then there was the woman in the village today – the one who died in the Fiendfyre."
Draco shuddered and wrapped his arms around his torso, but this time, the cold seeping into his body was not due to the elements.
"She reminded me of my wife. They all do."
He glanced nervously in Rami's direction, afraid that his companion would ask more questions than he was ready to answer. Thankfully, Rami did not pursue the topic any further.
Instead, he asked, "Do you know what the men call you, Mr. Draco, when you are not around to hear them? They call you 'The Revenant'."
"A ghost," Draco whispered, nodding. It was a fitting title. Sometimes he felt as if he was wandering aimlessly, without direction or purpose, looking for something that was always just out of his reach. Sometimes it felt as if he had nothing left to live for, and no ties to the mortal realm, so it was just a matter of time before he faded away altogether.
"It could mean 'ghost', yes," Rami responded. "But 'The Revenant' could also mean 'one who returns', as if from a long journey."
Draco arched one eyebrow in bemusement.
"You can't exactly be on a journey if you don't have a destination, Rami."
"Oh, I think you do, Mr. Draco."
"And what's that?"
"I do not know!" Rami said with a laugh. "Only Allah knows."
"I still don't get it," Draco muttered in distaste. "How can you believe in magic and still believe in a god as well?"
"On the contrary, how can you believe in magic, and not believe in God? Call it what you will, Mr. Draco. God, fate, karma…there are many words for it. But I believe that whatever happens in this world happens for a purpose. There is a reason you lost your wife. There is also a reason you are here. Sometimes fate brings us far from home, and sometimes it brings us back again. Some men will find what they are looking for, and some will spend the rest of their lives searching, but never find it. That is the way of things."
Draco sighed. Rami's faith annoyed him, mostly because he envied it. Control and manipulation were things he had been taught since the cradle. Faith, in any form, was not something that came easily to him…especially when it involved having faith in himself.
"Do not worry, Mr. Draco," Rami said, as if he could hear his friend's thoughts. "I do not think you will be wandering for much longer. Soon, your journey will come to an end. I believe that very soon, you will find what you are looking for."
Draco awoke from his dream and opened his eyes, only to have his vision obscured by a mass of soft, brown curls. He smiled and burrowed deeper into them, breathing in their fragrant scent. He was lying on his side, with the front of his body molded to the back of Hermione's. While he slept, he had held her close out of fear that he would wake up and discover that everything that had happened the night before was just a dream. She was clinging to the arm he had wrapped around her torso, as if she, too, had been afraid he would leave her again.
Draco's heart ached at the thought of Hermione's continued insecurity, and he knew it would be a long time before she could fully trust him again. He tightened his hold on her and planted a few kisses on the nape of her neck, deciding that he would do everything in his power to earn that trust.
Just as Draco was about to drift back into blissful slumber, he heard voices coming from the direction of the living room.
"Hermione? Malfoy? Are either of you here?"
Draco groaned as he recognized the voice of Harry Potter.
"Harry, do you think the killer attacked them in their sleep?" asked a second voice, which Draco recognized as belonging to Ron Weasley. Hermione stirred in his arms.
"What time is it?" she mumbled sleepily.
"No idea. But I think those idiot friends of yours just invaded the privacy of our flat."
"I gave them the passwords to get past the wards, in case of an emergency," she said. "I'll go talk to them." She prepared to get up, but Draco pushed her gently back down onto the bed.
"Don't worry about it; I'll take care of them." He planted a kiss on her shoulder and stood up, wrapping one of the bed sheets securely around his waist.
"Be nice," Hermione said warningly as he padded across the bedroom and opened the door. He grumbled to himself as he stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.
"'Be nice'. Of course I'll be nice. When am I not nice? Oi, Potter, you're a dead man!" he snarled, the moment he emerged into the living room. "Don't you know better than to drag a man out of bed at this hour of the morning?" Harry and Ron spun around in alarm, both of them holding their wands at the ready. When they saw Draco standing there, they relaxed and lowered them.
"Malfoy, it's nearly one in the afternoon!" Harry argued. Then he caught sight of Draco's bare skin and his eyes widened. At Harry's reaction, Draco glanced down and noticed, for the first time, that his neck, chest, and torso were covered with love bites and scratch marks from the passionate night he had spent with Hermione.
"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed. "What happened to you? You look like you've been mauled by one of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts!"
"Ron, I, uh, think he and Hermione have finally, er…gotten over their differences," Harry explained, looking highly uncomfortable.
"What?" said Ron, his eyes widening in disbelief. Draco decided to ignore him.
"What the hell are you two doing here?"
"When you and Hermione didn't show up at the Ministry this morning, I got worried," said Harry. "We're still working our arses off trying to uncover more about Goyle's murder, and Seamus's involvement. Is Hermione up yet?"
"Not yet. We had a bit of a long night."
"I bet," Ron snapped, before Harry elbowed him in the ribs to silence him.
"Never mind Hermione," Harry said to Draco. "She's already done more than enough work on this case. She's not an Auror anymore, and I'm sure she's gotten way behind on her duties for the Wizengamot. Besides, I think this whole thing with Seamus is really affecting her. She should take the day off. Now that the two of you are back together, I suppose you'll want your old job back, right, Malfoy?"
"Well, Hermione and I haven't really discussed –"
"Great, you're officially re-hired. Now get dressed and be back to work in fifteen minutes. We have a mystery to solve."
Before Draco could utter any further protests, Harry turned on the spot and Disapparated back to the Ministry with an irate-looking Ron in tow. At that moment, Hermione emerged from the bedroom, fastening the tie of her pink satin robe.
"Oh," she said, looking around the living room, "did they leave already?"
"Not nearly soon enough. Now, where did we leave off last night?" Hermione squealed with laughter as he began enthusiastically peppering her neck with kisses.
"Draco, didn't I hear Harry say he needed your help back at the Ministry?" she asked.
"He said to be there in fifteen minutes. There's a lot we can do in fifteen minutes."
Draco undid the knot in her robe and opened it as eagerly as if he were unwrapping a present on Christmas morning. They had spent the entire night leisurely rediscovering each other, yet he still couldn't get enough of her. He kissed her, tenderly at first, and then with growing intensity as he picked her up and laid her down on the couch. Then he tore off the sheet he had been wearing around his waist and bent over to cover her body with his.
"Merlin, I missed this," he whispered, as he began trailing kisses down Hermione's throat. "These past three years have been hell without you, love. Last night doesn't even begin to make up for it."
"Yes, but…was it wrong? You and me, spending the night doing what we were doing, even after everything that just happened with Seamus and Goyle?"
Draco's lips moved further south to graze her collarbone.
"Hermione, we can't stop living our lives because of what happened."
"I know, but I just can't stop thinking about how shaken Seamus looked the other day, when we brought Meachim in for questioning. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was afraid of something…or someone. Maybe I should have tried talking to him more."
"You can't blame yourself for what happened to Seamus. He probably got caught up in the Morpheum trade like Goyle, and couldn't get out. Maybe he owed the potion maker money."
Hermione nodded thoughtfully, and Draco took the opportunity to continue lavishing her neck and shoulders with kisses. He was just about to shift his attention to her breasts when she suddenly gave his hair a gentle tug in order to force him to meet her gaze.
"Draco, wait, I just thought of something. Why would the killer need to sell Morpheum to begin with? If he's killing the former Death Eaters out of revenge, or some supposed desire to make the world a better place, then what does he need all the money for?"
"Hermione, do we really need to be having this conversation right now?"
"Yes, we do," Hermione insisted. "Look, Seamus was my friend, and I'm determined to help Harry figure out what happened to him, even if he doesn't want me to be on the case anymore."
"What if it really was Seamus who was behind it all along? How can you take it on blind faith that he was innocent? Sometimes I think you're too determined to believe the best of people."
"And you are too determined to think the worst of them," Hermione said accusingly. "Listen, I think the Morpheum trafficking is the key to the puzzle. If we can see how it fits in with the murders, then maybe it will help us figure out who the killer really is."
"Maybe the killer's just a greedy bastard who figured that while he was disposing of a few Death Eaters, he'd make some extra money on the side."
Hermione shook her head.
"I think there's more to it then that. I think the Morpheum business is a part of his plan. He's using the money somehow, or at least planning to use it. I just can't figure out what for. Something big, obviously."
"Like what?"
"I don't know! Maybe he's planning to buy a...a nuclear warhead, or something."
"You've been watching those James Bond movies again, haven't you?"
"Draco..."
"All right, I'll talk to Potter about it when I get to the office, okay? Maybe we can try investigating Finnigan's financial records, and see if something turns up. Now, can I please get back to shagging you senseless? I'm having a hard time focusing on this conversation with you lying here half-naked."
Hermione chuckled, but her laughter morphed into a moan as he ran his hands along the insides of her thighs and parted them so that he could kneel in between her legs. She trailed one hand down his spine, making goose bumps break out across his flesh.
"I lied to you, when I said that Goyle was the only reason I came back to England," he murmured, as he settled himself within the cradle of her hips. "The biggest reason was you."
"But it'd been three years since you last saw me," Hermione whispered. "How did you know I still loved you? How did you know I would even take you back?"
Draco smiled and leaned forward to brush his lips against hers.
"Call it…an act of faith."
Despite the harrowing events of the past few days, Hermione couldn't help humming to herself as she showered and dressed. Draco had left for the Ministry, promising to take her out for a nice dinner once he returned. He had insisted that she follow Harry's advice and take the day off to relax and recover. Though she had argued with him at first, she had eventually given in. In truth, she realized that she was long overdue for a break.
Once Draco had left, she had gone back to sleep for a few hours. She was exhausted in every way possible – physically, mentally, and emotionally, from all the things that had happened to her in such a short amount of time. It was strange, sleeping in the middle of the afternoon. It was something that she hadn't done since she had suffered that severe bout of depression after Draco left nearly three years earlier. But this time, her afternoon nap had been restful, and she had awoken feeling rejuvenated and refreshed.
The night before had been amazing. Actually, "amazing" was probably a bit of an understatement. After their passionate encounter against the living room wall, Draco had carried her back to their bedroom and they had repeated the process several times over, but slower and more tenderly than the first time. She and Draco had stayed up late into the night, and when they weren't tangled up in each other, they had talked and planned for the future. Draco had agreed to her suggestion of attending marriage counseling, and they had even discussed the possibility of trying to start a family again in the future – though no sooner than they were ready to, of course.
Hermione smiled and reached into the back of her closet for an old, light purple jumper that Draco had given her for their first Valentine's Day together, and pulled it over her head. She knew that the road ahead of them wouldn't be easy; it would be fraught with difficulties, and it may take years to completely repair the damage that had been done to their marriage. But she couldn't help allowing herself to feel optimistic about the future as well. As Draco had said, they had the rest of their lives ahead of them, and if they had learned anything from their ordeal, it was that the bond between them was even stronger than they could have imagined.
With that thought, she crossed back into the living room and retrieved her keepsake box from where Draco had left it on the mantle the night before. She opened the lid, fished out her wedding band, and slid it back onto her left ring finger. Somehow, it felt like a more comfortable fit than Anthony's engagement ring had been. This ring felt as if belonged there.
It was four o'clock, and the sun had nearly set. She knew it would probably be after six before Draco could escape from work, and she wondered how best to spend the remaining hours before he returned home. She considered contacting Ginny. The two had not had a chance to catch up in a long time, and she knew Ginny was probably starved for company since Harry had been working such long hours. She also realized that Narcissa would be more than eager to speak with her again, especially after Hermione and Draco's abrupt departure from the Manor the day before. Hermione knew that her mother-in-law would be so pleased to learn that she and Draco were not getting a divorce after all. Lucius, however…well, Hermione would worry about that when the time came to tell him.
Just as she was about to fetch a quill and parchment to send Narcissa an owl, there was a faint knock on the front door of the flat. Hermione frowned. She was not expecting any visitors, and immediately, she was on her guard. She held her wand firmly in her hand as she tiptoed across the room and approached the front door. Thankfully, she had installed a Muggle intercom system a couple of years ago in order to feel safer living alone in the flat. She pressed the button that would allow her to communicate with the person outside, and tried to steady her voice as she spoke.
"Who's there?"
"Hermione?" asked a tremulous female voice. "Is that you?"
Hermione blinked in surprise. She recognized the voice immediately from her school days, although then, it had always been hateful and mocking. Now, the voice was laced with uncertainty and fear. Cautiously, she shifted over and looked out the peephole to confirm her suspicions. Sure enough, standing outside the front door of her flat was the last person she ever expected to find on her doorstep.
It was Pansy Parkinson.
Draco hated Harry Potter. This was nothing new, of course, but the emotion was stronger today than it had been in a long while. Well, perhaps hatred was too strong a word for it. After many years of working with the man and marrying his best friend, Draco had realized that he did not exactly hate him. But he certainly disliked him, and today, he was the one keeping Draco from spending quality time with his wife. With a frustrated sigh, he dropped a stack of parchment down on the table with a resounding smack.
"Nothing," he muttered. "Finnigan's records are squeaky clean. No large deposits, no suspicious transactions, nothing. If he was getting any money from the Morpheum trade, he certainly hid it well."
"Or, he wasn't involved with the Morpheum trade at all," Harry retorted.
"We've been at this for hours," Ron grumbled. "If the killer's as smart as we think he is, he won't have made it that easy for us to find a money trail. What does Hermione think the killer needs the money for, anyway?"
"A nuclear warhead," Draco said with a snort. "I think she was just grasping at straws though." This piqued Ron's interest immediately.
"Oh, like in all those Muggle spy movies!"
Draco and Harry shared a sidelong glance.
"Right, well, I think we can pretty much guarantee that the killer isn't out to buy Muggle explosives," Draco continued. "I know someone who has a few connections in the black market down in Knockturn Alley –"
"You mean your father," Harry put in.
"Fine," Draco said with a scowl. "So we ask my father if there have been any major purchases being made on the Wizarding black market lately. It's our best shot."
"Yeah, I suppose."
The three men sat in awkward silence for several moments, and after the fourth time Ron glared in his direction, Draco heaved a sigh of resignation.
"All right, get on with it, Weasley. It's about time someone addressed the giant pink hippogriff in the room."
"Look, Malfoy, I know Hermione cares about you, and if being with you will make her happy, then I guess I have no choice but to accept it," Ron growled, cutting straight to the chase. "But if you do anything to hurt her again, I swear I'll – I'll rip your spleen out through your nostrils."
Draco rolled his eyes.
"Weasley, if I ever hurt Hermione again, you have my permission to torture me in whatever way you see fit."
Ron's jaw hung open for a few seconds at the fact that Draco had not argued with him. Then he quickly folded his arms across his chest and resumed his menacing demeanor.
"So you realize that you don't deserve her?"
"Yes."
"And you're going to treat her right, from now on?"
"Of course."
"Oh. All right then. Just…just as long as we're on the same page."
"Sure thing, Weasley," Draco said, and he couldn't help relishing the fact that his uncharacteristic agreeability was making the redhead uneasy. It was clear that Ron had been prepared for a fight with Draco, and when he didn't receive one, he didn't know what else to say.
"Well, I'll, uh, see you two later, I guess," he finished lamely.
"See you," said Draco.
"Later, Ron," said Harry.
Ron blinked in confusion, and exited the room while grumbling under his breath. Harry shook his head in wry amusement.
"Malfoy, you know it messes with his head when you're not rude and sarcastic to him."
"I know. Why else would I bother to be civil with him, if not to make him squirm?"
"Of course," Harry muttered. "Even your kindness has an ulterior motive. You meant it though? Everything you said about Hermione?"
"Yes, I'm here to stay this time…as much as I'm sure that fact doesn't please you or Weasley."
"It's not too terrible," Harry said with a shrug. "You do realize, though, that you'll have to work your way up from the bottom again? Your new office is roughly the size of a broom closet."
"Lovely. Look, Potter, is Weasley going to continue being a prat about me and Hermione getting back together? I don't give a rat's arse what he thinks, but Hermione values his opinion, and I don't want this to be any harder on her than it already is."
"Don't mind Ron. I think he's still a bit disappointed that she didn't end up with George. He was really hoping things would work out between the two of them, so she could officially be a part of his family, just like I became when I married Ginny. He even disliked Anthony for awhile, but eventually got over it."
Draco shook his head in disbelief.
"I still can't believe Hermione dated George Weasley."
"And Dennis Creevey."
"Creevey!? She dated Creevey?"
Harry groaned and smacked the palm of his hand to his forehead.
"Shit, Hermione's going to kill me for telling you."
"Why didn't she tell me?"
"Well, I expect she's a bit…embarrassed about it. I mean, they only went on one or two dates, and Dennis isn't really Hermione's type."
"Is he any woman's type?" When Harry gave him a dark scowl, Draco added, "I'm sorry, but I don't know many women who go for the small, timid sort. Then again, I heard Longbottom recently landed that Hufflepuff girl…What was her name again? Hattie? Harriet?"
"Hannah," Harry said through gritted teeth. "And if you don't stop insulting my friends, I'm going to fire you before you've even completed your first day back on the job."
Draco smirked and rose to his feet.
"You're the one who insisted on rehiring me, Potter. No one to blame but yourself. Well, if we're done here for the day, I'll be heading home. Hermione wanted me to get her mail for her. She didn't have a chance with everything that happened yesterday. I'll let you know if I get any leads from my father."
"All right." Harry hesitated, and then just as Draco had one foot out the door, he called out to him. "Hey, Malfoy?"
"Yeah?"
"Welcome back."
Draco just stared at him for few seconds, nodded in acknowledgement, and breezed out of the room. He had known Harry Potter for almost two decades, but he didn't think he would ever understand the man. He was unpredictable, shrewd, and at times, surprisingly manipulative.
He would have made a perfect Slytherin.
Draco shook off this bizarre thought as he arrived at Hermione's office. He turned on the lights with a flick of his wand and went to gather the small stack of mail that was sitting on the corner of her desk. He rifled idly through the pile, but paused when he reached an envelope that stuck out among the rest. It had stamps in the upper right corner. His brow lowered in confusion as he tried to think who in the Wizarding World would send Hermione mail in the Muggle manner. The bottom corner of the envelope was marked "URGENT" in bold, red letters.
Draco was unable to resist the temptation. He quickly tore open the flap of the envelope, pulled out the single sheath of parchment that was folded inside, and read:
Dear Hermione,
I'm writing to you because I don't know who else to write to. I know you're the only person who will understand. You're the only one who will believe me when I say that something has been happening to me lately – something that I seem to have no control over.
It all started earlier this week, the day before Goyle was murdered. I began losing time. There were gaps in the day – times when I couldn't recall where I'd been and who I'd been talking to. And then, the night Goyle was killed, I found myself in Knockturn Alley. I didn't even remember how I'd gotten there!
And that wasn't the first time it happened. It happened again the next morning, when Dennis was attacked...And then there was the incident with the Veritaserum. I knew there was something wrong with the potion when I handed it to Harry. Now I'm convinced that it's because I'm the one who poisoned it. But I don't even remember doing it! Hermione, you have to believe me. I know that if anyone will believe me, it's you.
I think I've been put under the Imperius curse by someone working at the Ministry. I can't go back into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement without running the risk that whoever's been doing it will put me under the curse again. I'm going into hiding, back home in Ireland, and I've listed the address of the motel below. I'm sending this by Muggle mail to make it less conspicuous where I'm staying (I can't risk having owls coming and going). Please, Hermione, I'm begging you to believe me. I need your help.
There's one more thing I have to tell you. I don't know how I know this, but I do. You're in very real danger, Hermione. Whoever's behind this, I think they're after you next – you and the entire Malfoy Family. I don't know why and I don't know what they'll do, but please promise me you'll take care of yourself. Find a way to convince Harry, Ron, and the others that I wasn't the one behind these attacks – at least not intentionally. Find a way to protect yourself. And, if you can, find a way to prove my innocence so that I can come back to England. I know I can count on you.
Your friend always,
Seamus Finnigan
By the time Draco reached the end of the letter, his hands were shaking violently, and his entire body had broken out into a cold sweat. But he wasted no time in further contemplating the meaning of the letter. He only knew that he had to get to Hermione, and fast.
Without hesitation, he tore out of the room and began barreling down the hallway in a full-out run. As he rounded the corner leading to the lifts, he nearly collided with Ron Weasley, who managed to dodge out of the way just in time.
"Malfoy, what the hell are you –"
"Shut up and listen to me!" Draco cut in breathlessly. He shoved Seamus's letter into Ron's hands. "Give this to Potter. Tell him he was right – it wasn't Seamus. Tell him my family is in danger and the two of you need to get over to the Manor as soon as possible to make sure my parents are safe."
Then he spun on his heel and practically flung himself into a waiting lift.
"What about you?" Ron called out after him, his voice rising in panic. "Where are you going?"
"Hermione," was all Draco had time to say, before the doors to the lift slammed shut and he began ascending to the Atrium.
He only hoped that this time, he wouldn't be too late.