AN: Hey, I'm working pretty fast, eh? Well, if it weren't for drama class, (and this) I'd be bored out of my skull by now… and who says summer is fun?
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, as well as anything even vaguely familiar from the Harry Potter books. Anything else, however, may be blamed upon me.
Dedicated to: As usual, CharmedHpfanatic, and to all my fellow cast members, you guys made this summer one helluva ride. Too bad we'll never see each other again. *dramatic sigh*
Chapter 7: Don't Tell Me
"When you have to cope with a lot of problems
you are either going to sink or you're going to swim"
- Tom Cruise
***Afternoon of May 19, 2010***
Harry looked up from behind his desk, eyes inscrutable behind his rimless glasses. "Hello, Hermione. What do you-" he was cut off when Hermione angrily slammed her fists down on the table, eyes narrowed angrily. "What is this?!" she brandished a vaguely familiar piece of paper under Harry's nose.
Harry stared at it. "Hmm… it looks familiar. Must have passed through all this paperwork on my desk… oh, yes. The appeal for Draco's arrest." Hermione glared at him. "Stop being such an arsehole. Why is my husband under an appeal for arrest?" Harry took the paper from her and read it out loud.
"It says here, that he has been charged with this appeal on account of…" Harry cleared his throat, and Hermione saw red. "…use of Dark magic, breaking in and entering, and possession of Dark artifacts, and use of the two Unforgivables." He looked up at Hermione calmly. "Hermione, I can show you the signed accounts I received with this appeal, and I can even grant you the permission to search the Malfoy Manor yourself." His eyes glittered. "It's all in the paperwork, you know."
Hermione caught her breath. It was a great humiliation to get resigned to paperwork, and Hermione knew that Mad-eye had already let Harry off very easy, but she just didn't expect Harry to be so bitter about it. She tried to calm herself down. "Yes, Harry. Please arrange a permit for a type-4 search of the Malfoy Manor." She held out her hand. "I want to see those accounts."
~*~
Thirty minutes later, Hermione was sitting outside the building where Ministry of Magic papers were processed, in her hands a thick pile of accounts against Draco, all signed, most by occupants of Godric's Hollow.
She riffled through them, shaking her head unbelievingly. "Widow Alden? This is impossible, Draco would never have done this…" A shadow fell across the page she was reading, an account that claimed that Draco had killed her pet fish after subjecting it to the Cruciatus Curse.
"I knew I'd find you here."
Hermione looked up, her eyes meeting the bright blue ones of Berna Guerrero's. "Hello." Hermione said warily. Berna, who was dressed in a sweet combination of summer khakis and a crisp white shirt, didn't seem very threatening, however. She seated herself beside Hermione, curiosity etched upon her delicate features. "What's that? And why are you so… worried?"
Hermione held out a few papers to her, deciding to trust her. Berna turned the papers over in her hand, surprised. "Draco did all this?" Hermione glared at her. "No, he didn't! Do you think he did?" Berna glanced down at the papers. "Threatening with various Dark hexes…" She fixed Hermione with a light blue gaze. "It sounds like something he would do if someone ticked him off."
Hermione took the papers back from Berna, absentmindedly shuffling them. "Draco has a temper, but he's never really let it get so far as to impose the Cruciatus Curse on somebody… and the disturbing thing is… all of these are signed. And the supposed 'victims' all say that he really did all of these things." Berna looked only slightly sympathetic. "The media will be having a field day." she remarked, and Hermione replied sourly. "Oh, I do believe so."
Berna got up, her pretty flowered handbag swinging. "Well, why don't you go talk to your… husband… about this?" And she walked away.
Hermione considered running after her, but thought the better of it, and Disapparated.
~*~
***Evening of May 30, 2010***
*pop!*
"Ouch!"
"Hermione?"
"Draco! What-"
Hermione lay on a crumpled heap on top of Draco, obviously having Apparated into the exact same spot he was standing, in the living room of their apartment. He grinned slightly. Hermione eased off him slowly, and stood up, the papers still in hand. Draco stood up gracefully, smiling. "I was beginning to enjoy that…"
Instead of replying, Hermione held out the papers, which Draco took curiously. A few mintues later, his eyes were narrowed. "What is this?" he asked. Hermione frowned. "Exactly what I'd like to know. It seems that you have been convicted of all… that." Draco laughed sourly. "Well, lock me up and throw away the key." Hermione sighed. "Draco, that's exactly what the Ministry of Magic is going to do to you if we don't prove these people wrong!"
She sat down on the couch. "What do you when I'm not home?" Draco shrugged aimlessly. "Sleep, read… take walks, tap-dance naked on the front lawn if I get bored." In spite of herself, Hermione chuckled. "You need solid proof that you haven't done any of those horrible things written down there… so, I'm going to take a bath and get ready for bed… I'm tired."
~*~
The steam clouds rose from inside the bath curtain, clouding up the mirror and everything in sight. Hermione sighed as the hot jets of water hit her full-force. She closed her eyes and began to think of who could have placed in that appeal…
Loud knocking on the bathroom door jolted her out of her troubled thoughts. "Yes, Draco?" she called through the steam. "Um… I have to get my toothbrush." he called back. Hermione smiled. Here we go again… "It's above the kitchen sink."
"Er… yeah. How about toothpaste?" Draco soudned annoyed and hopeful at the same time. Hermione sighed. "Just come in, Draco, and take whatever you want…" The door creaked open, and Hermione could see the vague outline of Draco's bath-robed figure through the sheer shower curtain.
She poured some of the pink shampoo onto her palm… then…
"Draco!"
A shriek of surprise. Draco had pulled open the shower curtain, and was smiling at Hermione. She waved him away, scattering bubbles in the process. "Go away! I'm taking a bath here…"
She squealed when Draco stepped into the shower with her, disrobing as he did. "Hello, Hermione." he murmured in a voice that sent pleasurable shivers down her spine. "Draco, I told you to get what you want and get out!" Hermione placed a soaking wet hand on his bare chest and pushed him unconvincingly towards the open door.
He shrugged, and laughingly swept her off her feet, bubbles and all. She shrieked her protests, demanding to be put down. Draco grinned infuriatingly at Hermione. "Exactly, I wanted you. So, do we get it on here, or in the bedroom?" Hermione glared at him, but she stopped flailing her arms. "You… you're so… vulgar!"
Draco looked hurt. He set her back on her feet, and she doused herself with water, rubbing off the bubbles in her hair. Silently, Draco picked up the peppermint body wash and proceeded to massage Hermione's back. She squirmed, then sighed. "Thanks… I need that…"
After a peaceful minute or two, Draco slid his hands slowly up her neck, tunring her so she faced him. She stared up at him through darkened eyes, and like a child, she raised her face to meet his lips… "Maybe… here." she whispered.
~*~
***May 20, 2010***
"This is so stupid… I mean, she says that you broke into her house and took her crystal ball… and it was her only source of income!" Hermione burst out angrily, scanning the pages. Draco didn't reply, busily reading the rest of the claims with a furrowed brow.
Hermione stacked the papers, frowning. "But I don't understand… what do you do when I'm not around?" Draco shrugged evasively. "Well, I definitely don't rampage around and burn people's houses to the ground, as this… Artiliou Mulcher claims." Hermione reached across the table, grasping Draco's hand in hers. "No, Draco… tell me exactly what you do around the house." The Soul-Keeper colored into a faint raspberry tinged with gray, telling Draco that she was faintly suspicious, but mostly worried.
Draco scowled. "Oh, so you suspect me too?" He pulled away and angrily tossed yesterday's newspaper onto the table. "I won't be able to walk out of this house now without people gawking at me… just like stupid Potter and his stupid scar."
"Oh, Draco… stop it, you're being immature…" Hermione trailed off when she saw the headline of the newspaper. Last Malfoy about to be Arrested. "Who wrote this? Oh, damnit, Rita Skeeter… with the help of that asinine daughter of hers… Raine Skeeter." Hermione glared at the moving photograph of an extremely angry Draco waving reporters away. "Draco, when was this taken?"
"That's the thing, this picture was never taken at all." Draco growled, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. "She's been creating photographs and writing lies to go with them. This woman should be sent to Azkaban… the bitch."
Hermione closed her eyes and rubbed them sleepily. "It's two a.m. in the morning… it's too early for all this." Draco nodded. "Let's go."
~*~
In the dark of their closet, at the bottom, in a trunk which held all memorabilia of their years together, was another news article, written by the same journalist.
Malfoy Dares to Marry Mudblood.
Draco knew he could have gotten Rita Skeeter into jail for that particular headline. But he preferred to keep quiet, knowing that he could very well get in trouble with the Ministry. Rita Skeeter, years back, had married an extremely powerful member of the Ministry of Magic. This man, who allowed Rita to keep her original name, also happened to be the lead editor of the Daily Prophet.
The nasty article went on to desribe the wedding as 'extravagantly foolish', Hermione's wedding gown as 'a waste of decent cloth', the flowers as 'wilted', and the bride and the groom as 'a pair of oblivious idiots.'
No one knew the real reason Draco kept that inclement article… in fact, neither did he.
~*~
Early the next morning, a non-descript barn owl flew into Mad-eye Moody's office, after passing unscathed through the barrage of charms and Dark-detectors that lined his cluttered office. Moody picked the plain scroll up warily, his magical eye sweeping over it quickly.
"No fingerprints? No traces of any charm or spell?" The Auror snorted. "Boring." He unscrolled it, and as he read, both eyes, magical and real, widened.
~*~
Ginny dashed up to Hermione, who was walking up the drive for daily Auror training. "Did… you h-hear?" she gasped, slapping her knees and trying to catch her breath. Hermione cast a small Breathign Charm on Ginny, and soon, the red-head straightened up, breathing normally, but still with an alramed look on her small face.
"What's wrong Ginny?"
"Mad-eye just received it this morning, and we have absolutely no idea who it's from…"
"What?"
"But it's all concrete proof, and it's all in a legal form, not like the one you got weeks ago…"
"What are you talking about?!"
Ginny stared at Hermione. "The second appeal for Draco's arrest."