A/N: A huge thank you to my amazing alpha/beta team (aka my new besties): LeilahMoon, who is a genius editor... why didn't I find her sooner? And Lilithmorningstar69, who is wonderful at all things plot! I am beyond lucky to have found them!
Chapter 5
Hermione Granger and the Wizarding World's Most Unwanted
The knock on the door was persistent. Hermione nearly spilt her tea rushing to get it and, just like that, she was primed to resent her visitor. Or, at the very least, her visitor's timing. In all honesty, it wasn't entirely the tea issue – although she had steeped it to perfection – there were other things at play – literally, in the next room.
She huffed a great, dramatic sigh, and didn't even look through the glazed glass of her front door to try and discern what imbecile would disturb her afternoon tea. She swung it open violently with her foot, taking care to grip the cup and saucer with both hands.
When she looked up, Draco Malfoy was smiling at her from her porch.
"What in the world? Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed, forgetting entirely about her tea, and nearly spilling it for a second time. "Do you know how many people are looking for you?"
"Roughly," he responded, bobbing his head from side to side as though he were still on the fence about the exact number.
"Honestly, how does anyone tolerate you?" Hermione grumbled. "You are wasting Ministry resources by taking off like that! We could've found the missing artifact by now, if we hadn't been looking for your sorry arse."
"Doubtful," Malfoy said. "In any case, it's why I'm surrendering myself to you. May I come in?"
Hermione abruptly composed herself, cursing how shrill her voice became whenever Draco Malfoy flustered her. "No, you may not come in. This is my home, Malfoy!"
"I know," he said, the right corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. "I've been here before, remember?"
"How could I forget?" she said sourly, stepping out onto her porch and tugging at the door behind her. Her cup rattled on its saucer precariously and Malfoy reached for the door handle in an attempt to help her. "I've got it, Malfoy, thank you," she said brusquely, leaving the door ajar.
"What are you afraid might happen if you let me in?" He narrowed his eyes slightly.
There was no taunt in his tone, but Hermione found the remark suggestive, nonetheless. She glared at him without responding. Then, she took a sip of her tea.
Malfoy nodded, pursing his lips, and stuck his hands into his pockets. "I quite like your dressing-gown," he noted.
"Oh, for goodness' sake, Malfoy," she blurted out. "Get to the point!" But the truth of the matter was that she'd completely forgotten what she'd been wearing and was now subconsciously wrapping her arm around her own torso to ensure that the dressing-gown didn't unravel.
She stared at his feet, which were planted wide apart, as if he owned the place. His entire posture imparted a sense of ease and self-assurance, and she couldn't stand the way he blended the two so effortlessly. It was much simpler for her to assume that Draco Malfoy himself was a hoax. That absolutely nothing about him was real. He was more than a conman. He was the con. And it would be ludicrous to believe any word he ever said. Again.
When she glanced up at his face, she could see that he'd been watching her for some time, analysing her stance just as much as she'd been scrutinising his. "I found the piece," he said finally.
She raised her eyebrows. "I beg your pardon?"
"The stolen artifact," he said matter-of-factly. "I know what it is. Better yet, I know where it is. Or, rather, who has it."
Hermione eyed him wearily, silently reinforcing her own 'don't listen to a word Malfoy says' rule. "What? How?" however, was all she could muster.
"I've got a source."
"Who's your source?"
"My source would prefer to remain anonymous. Why do you think I had to ditch my anklet?" Malfoy smirked. "Couldn't have Potter follow me. He's gotten lazy, that chap."
Hermione narrowed her eyes to indicate her distrust. "What is it, then?"
But before Malfoy could respond, their conversation was interrupted by a crashing sound that came from inside Hermione's house. Her eyes widened as she gasped, and she shoved her teacup and saucer into Malfoy's hands and rushed inside.
"Granger?" Malfoy poked his head into the foyer. "Is everything alright?" When Hermione didn't respond, Malfoy stepped in, looking around suspiciously. "Do you have company?"
Hermione reached the top of the first landing and glanced back down at him. He looked droll standing there in his black, tapered suit with a floral teacup in hand. Especially as his pinky had instinctively elevated away from the handle. When her eyes met his over the expanse of the staircase, she felt as though her heart leapt right into her throat. Likely, she told herself, from all the unpleasant memories his stupid face brought up. Then, another clatter coming from down the corridor snapped her out of her trance and she wheeled around and ran toward the sound.
Malfoy, it seemed, was right on her tail, because she heard him set the teacup down on the entryway table – which was unequivocally not meant for dishware – and dash up the stairs. She didn't have time to educate him on the perils of entry without consent, so she carried on down the corridor, stopping at the second door on the right. "What is going on?" she called before she even reached the room.
Malfoy skidded to a stop right beside her the moment she paused at the doorway and looked into the bedroom.
"Who's this?" squeaked a voice from inside.
Malfoy looked incredulously at the girl almost entirely buried amongst a pile of toys in the centre of the room. He turned his head slowly to look at Hermione. Possibly for the very first time in his entire life, Draco Malfoy was gobsmacked. "Who's this?" he asked.
"Malfoy," Hermione sighed, breathing out her irritation as though she might somehow dispel it in this way. "Meet Rosalind."
"It's Rosie." The girl stood and several dolls cascaded off her lap. She stepped over the mound of toys haphazardly, making her way to the doorway where Hermione and Malfoy were parked.
"Rosie, what a mess!" Hermione fretted as clouds of sparkles rose from the rug with every step the girl took.
Malfoy, who'd been watching Rosie mutely, turned to Hermione with eyes that hadn't blinked since he'd laid them on the girl. "And Rosie is?" he said.
Hermione sucked in her cheeks at the sight of his stunned face – an effort to hold in her nervous laughter. "My daughter," she said, as calmly as she could.
Malfoy finally blinked. "She's blond."
"Perceptive as ever," Hermione remarked.
"How old is she?" he said as the girl approached him.
"Why're you so tall?" Rosie asked.
Malfoy looked down at her and jerked backward as though her proximity terrified him. Rosie looked up at him and giggled. She stepped closer to him, recognizing immediately that he seemed frightened of her.
Hermione raised her eyebrows at the girl's sinister game when Malfoy took another step back and she, smiling, reached her hand out to touch his trousers. "Stop being a bully, Rosie," Hermione said.
Malfoy, who'd been concentrating on avoiding all contact with Rosie, shot a flustered look at Hermione. "She's a what, now?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Relax, Malfoy," she said. "She's not yours."
…
"Typically, we reserve these for the really dangerous ones," Harry was saying as he clasped the latch of the cuff on Malfoy's wrist.
Malfoy smirked. "That's quite the compliment," he said, holding his hand up to admire the admonitor on his arm.
"Humph," Harry made a sound that resembled neither a chuckle nor a scoff but, somehow, ended up being both. "This handy contraption will allow me to monitor your spell-work. No longer will you be doing magic behind my back."
"Is this really necessary?" Hermione crossed her arms, wondering how much more bickering she would have to endure.
Both Harry and Malfoy looked up at her as if they had no idea she'd been in the room with them the entire time.
"Haven't you heard?" Malfoy said as Harry walked back around to his desk. "I'm the Wizarding World's most wanted." He winked at her, showing off his new jewellery.
"You're not wanted, Malfoy," Harry said dryly, sifting through the pieces of parchment scattered on his desk. "We've already got you."
"Ouch." Malfoy struck his fist against his own chest. "That one hurt, Potter. Are you saying you can't want what you already have?"
"Grass is always greener," Harry replied distractedly.
"Granger" – Malfoy turned to Hermione – "tell Potter to play nice."
"Ah!" Harry exclaimed, pulling a sheet out of one of the open files strewn about his desk. "Found it!"
"Harry." Hermione took a step forward, despite her initial intent to stay as far from Malfoy as possible. She finally decided that Harry's office was large enough for the both of them and, besides, his stint at the Ministry was clearly less transient than she'd originally expected, and they would need to learn to coexist. "I think you'd better listen to his story, Harry."
"No." Harry shook his head resolutely. "Absolutely not. I will not indulge him. It will go right to his head." Harry made a gesture to indicate his own head, as if Hermione might miss his point. "It would be like feeding Pavlov's dog," he continued. "Next thing you know, he'll take off all over again."
"But how will I ever?" Malfoy said innocently. "What with this admonitor that will surely prevent any such occurrence."
"Enough out of you," Harry barked.
"He's not a dog, Harry," Hermione reasoned.
"Look at what I've found." Harry held the piece of parchment out to Hermione, completely ignoring her argument.
She took several more strides toward his desk, past a grinning Malfoy. She glanced over it while Malfoy hummed a tune in the background.
Finally, Harry hissed, "What are you singing? You're driving me bonkers!"
"Harry, what is this?" Hermione furrowed her brows.
"I can tell you," Malfoy said.
Hermione let her arm fall to her side and gave Malfoy a suspicious look. "How in the world would you know?"
"Because," Malfoy said, "I've got the original."
"What?" Harry lunged at Malfoy, nearly toppling him over.
"Harry!" Hermione cried, dropping the parchment and grabbing Harry by the shoulders in an attempt to pull him off.
Neville rushed in, looking panicked. "What's going on?" he stammered. "What can I do?"
"Neville, go get Ron!" Hermione yelled, hanging onto Harry's suit jacket as he circled Malfoy.
"No, no" – Neville began to fold up his sleeves – "I can assist. Tell me what you need."
"I need Ron!" Hermione screamed.
Neville hung his head and shuffled out of the room.
"Where is it?" Harry was patting down a laughing Malfoy.
"Harry, stop it! He's just riling you!"
Harry, breathing heavily, stepping back. "You're right," he said calmly, "there's no way he's got it. I've just found it myself."
"You're right." Malfoy cleared his throat as he straightened his tie. "So long." He turned abruptly on his heel and strode out of Harry's office.
Hermione sighed and bent down to pick up the parchment she'd dropped in the commotion. The piece she picked up, however, was entirely blank. "Oh, my fucking –"
But Harry was already out the door. Hermione dropped her arms in frustration and flung the decoy across the room. It fluttered about as the air caught it and Hermione watched it slowly fall to the ground at her feet. She folded her arms.
"Hermione?"
She looked up to see Neville and Ron looking dishevelled in the doorway as though they'd been running.
"What's happened, Hermione?" Ron asked, walking into the office.
"There was…" Hermione paused, trying to come up with an appropriate description of events, "an altercation." She shook her head. "It's over now."
…
"Was that really necessary?" Hermione approached the stack of books behind which Malfoy sat.
He peered up over the pile and smiled. "Apologies, you'll have to be a tad more specific."
Hermione sighed and pulled the chair out from the long table of the conference room, grabbing a book from the top of the stack. "Taking that letter from Harry. It's like you can't help yourself."
Malfoy pushed the books aside and gave her a long look before speaking. "Helping myself is all I can do."
"But it had nothing to do with you."
Malfoy shrugged. "I know that now."
Hermione was silent, her eyes resting on the cover of the book in her hand, Blunders in Magical Surveillance. She didn't even want to know what exactly Malfoy was studying and for what purpose – right here in one of the conference rooms of the Auror office, in broad daylight.
Across from her on the table, Malfoy shut his own book, presumably still watching her. "Was there anything else?"
Hermione gritted her teeth trying to formulate the request. She hated needing anything from Malfoy. "You can't say a word about what you saw, Malfoy."
When she looked up, she saw that he was no longer smirking. "Who do you take me for?" he said.
"I need your word."
"As if my word means absolutely anything," he said, and she thought she might have detected a trace of bitterness in his tone. "Or something to that effect, am I right, Granger?"
She nodded, remembering her own words from their first meeting when he returned. "Still," she said, "you need to promise me. For Harry."
Malfoy blinked. "I don't owe him anything."
Hermione felt the anger building from within and heating up her face. "You owe me."
"Even if I didn't," he said dismissively, returning his attention to the book in his hands, "you know I wouldn't say anything. But if it makes you feel better" – he was flipping through the pages, looking for the spot where he left off – "you have my word." He looked up and, despite having sworn to herself never again to trust a thing he might say, she knew he was telling the truth. "Couldn't care less about it, actually," he added indifferently.
Hermione continued sitting for another few moments, taking in, for the first time since Malfoy's return, his actual, physical presence. As much as she loathed to see him, his company was almost comforting, although she'd never admit it to anyone. "Right, well," she said curtly, rising from her seat, "Harry would like to see you."
…
"So, what you're telling me," Harry said, miraculously keeping his cool despite the outrageous claim Malfoy had just made, "is that your source – whom you refuse to name – has discovered the stolen artifact because someone had tried to sell it to him. You are also similarly reluctant to identify the fence who is, as far as you know, still in possession of said item, or the location of the deal."
"Technically, there was no deal," Malfoy corrected, "since my guy did not end up buying the aforementioned loot."
"Your guy," Harry said with a sour face, as if he'd tasted something off but was too polite to spit it out. He swallowed and moved on. "Alright, I can understand why you'd want to protect your contact. But why the fence? Also a friend of yours?"
Malfoy shrugged. "Don't want to be burning any bridges just yet. Or any fences." He smirked.
"Can you contact them? See if they've moved the... what did you say it was? A brick from the wall of the Atrium?"
"I doubt it," Malfoy said. "Who's going to want a brick?"
"I don't understand," Hermione said. The three of them stood in Harry's office, speaking in hushed tones because Harry had said that he wasn't about to interrupt a perfectly good plan for one of Malfoy's ridiculous hunches. "If nobody would want it," she continued, "why was it stolen to begin with? And why is your fence trying to sell it?"
"I would imagine she got it cheap, considering whoever took it doesn't want to be anywhere near it. And now she's just trying to unload it together with other… items," Malfoy finished, smiling mischievously.
"If it's worthless, why bother going through the trouble of taking it at all?" Hermione folded her arms over her chest and Malfoy's grin widened.
"I never said it was worthless. I said it wasn't worth much."
"What is the difference, Malfoy?" Harry roared. These days, Harry's fuse was rather short and, besides, even on a good day, he was not a fan of ambiguity.
"I'm sure you're aware," Malfoy said, lifting his gaze to monitor the looks the three of them were receiving through the invisible walls of Harry's office, "that the Atrium was restructured following the war."
"Of course, we're aware –" Harry spat, but then he paused abruptly mid-sentence. His face paled and he turned to look at Hermione.
She followed quite quickly, shaken that it had taken her so long to understand the magnitude of the theft. "The Hazard Wall," she breathed through the hand she held over her mouth.
"Atrium Hazard Wall," Malfoy spoke as though he were a tour guide, accentuating every syllable and being overly emphatic, "constructed in November 1999 to act as an alarm system for imminent danger. Its presence and practice could have prevented preceding attacks on the Ministry, including the infiltration which led to the coup of '97 wherein the Dark Lord took control of the Ministry –"
"We know the history, Malfoy, thank you," Hermione scowled at him. "And, please, if you could stop referring to Voldemort as the Dark Lord. It makes me sick."
Harry let out a sigh, rubbing aggressively at his eyes. "How in the world did this happen? A missing brick renders the entire wall useless. Which means the Ministry is, once more, susceptible to a silent attack."
"How did the wall not alert us of the theft?" Hermione said.
Malfoy shrugged. "A robber poses no danger."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I beg to differ."
"Regardless of your prejudices, Granger. The wall deemed our cat-burglar non-threatening." Malfoy shifted his gaze from Hermione to Harry. "This leads me to suspect that this person has nothing to do with what's to come. A hand for hire, so to speak."
"What's to come?" Hermione repeated.
Malfoy looked back over at her with a grave expression. "Why destroy the Hazard Wall if you're not planning to circumvent its function?"
"So, what you're saying," Hermione said slowly, "is that an attack on the Ministry is… imminent?"
…
"Granger! Granger, slow down!"
Hermione slowed her pace at the sound of Malfoy's calls. She was just about to head out of the office when he tracked her down. She sighed, composing herself, and turned to face him. She blinked expectantly as he approached.
He stopped before coming too close and looked down at his feet. When he didn't say anything, Hermione let out an irritated sigh that he was meant to have heard. He looked up with a slight smirk before letting out a chuckle. "In a hurry?" he said.
Hermione stared at him with what she envisaged to be immense disapproval. "I do have a life outside of this office," she said.
Malfoy nodded. "Like casually staking out random warehouses in Muggle London."
"Let it go," she said, shaking her head.
She turned to leave when he stepped forward and held out a tentative hand just ahead of her. Tentative because he seemed apprehensive to actually touch her. "You can trust me, you know?"
Hermione let out a patronizing laugh. She laid a contemptuous gaze over his face and stretched her mouth into an artificial smile. "You must know that, of anyone here, I am the most likely to see past this charade."
Malfoy lowered his hand but remained standing in her path. He had a contemplative expression – perhaps he was devising his next move. Then, he stepped aside, lowering his head once more, and motioning toward the exit with his arm. He lifted his eyes as if bidding her farewell and she all but scoffed at his over-the-top theatrics.
As she moved past him, he said quietly, "I never meant to hurt you."
She stopped dead and stared ahead at the lift at the end of the corridor with a grave expression. She wanted to say how dare he presume that he could have done anything of the sort but thought better of it. Her actions thus far had been more than indicative of residual resentment toward him. She considered accepting the apology – if you could even call it that – but quickly thought better of it because, clearly, this was just a further attempt to manipulate her. She decided to say nothing at all. Satisfied with the soundness of this rationale, she continued toward the doors of the lift.