All I need to get by
Chapter Nine: An Unspeakable Argument
A woman's friendship! God whom I trust in,
Forgive me this one foolish deadly sin,
Amongst my nay other, that I am
No more (I am sorry for so fond cause) say
At fifty years, almost, to value it
That ne'er was known to last above a fit!
Or have the least of good, but what it must
Put on for fashion, and take up on trust.
Knew I all this afore? Had I perceived
That their whole life was wickedness, though weaved
Of many colours; outward, fresh from spots,
But their whole inside full of ends and knots?
Knew I that all their dialogues and discourse
Were such as I will now relate, or worse?
Here something is wanting
Knew I this woman? Yes; and do you see
How penitent I am, or should be!
Do not you ask to know her; she is worse
Than all the ingredients made into one curse,
And that poured out upon mankind, can be!
Think but the sin of all her sex, 'tis she!
I could forgive her for being proud, a whore,
Perjured, and painted, if she were no more:
But she is such, as she might yet forestall
The devil, and be the damning of us all.
By Ben Johnson, taken from The Underwood, and entitled 'A satirical Shrub', from the book 'Ben Johnson Poems'
Chapter dedicated to all my reviewers and readers who had to wait for three weeks
Hermione Granger stood hesitantly at the door to the Top Floor office, one lip clasped firmly between her lower and upper teeth, her eyebrows denting a little. Brown eyes filled with worry, and her fingers twisted with the bag strap which lay over her shoulder. Draco Malfoy surveyed her with a cool indifference from the leather chair in which he sat, one eyebrow cocked slightly, eyes completely impassive.
'You're not allowed up here,' he said finally.
'It classified as a Department of Mysteries emergancy,' she spoke softly, nervously.
Draco's eyes narrowed slightly at the sound of the Department of Mysteries, and he rested his fingers on the leather arm rests, contemplating her visage silently for a moment.
'I feel honoured,' he said, the sarcasm in his voice barely noticeable.
Where once his blatant sarcasm had been his trademark, it fell away from him into a soft, sibilant, confusing kind of sarcasm. It confused everyone, and no-one could tell wether what he said was jest or not. Her eyebrows dipped in hurt momentarily.
'Such a pity it wasn't an emergancy to tell me you were going in the first place,' he picked the quill up between his fingers, and tuned back to the report.
Hermione felt odd tears well up in her throat, wakward and constricting. Her heart dropped down into her gall bladder in disappointment and hurt. Nethertheless she moved forward into the room and placed a hand on his shoulder.
'Didn't you get the message?' she asked simply.
'From Potter? Yes,' he answered curtly, and her eyebrows creased in confusion.
'Then I did tell you,' she said reasonably, and he span around so quickly that she had to take a hasty step backwards.
'I'm glad you think that's adequate,' he hissed, 'A message from Potter.'
'That's the way it works down there,' she said quietly.
'What?! Potter gets to know?'
'I don't understand,'
'Go and work it out know-it-all.'
Hermione regarded him with an air of hurt and confusion as he turned back to his desk and the report, but didn't write. She could feel the betrayal coming off him in great stabs, mixed with hurt and confusion.
'Draco, it's my job.'
'What? To tell Potter things and vanish off the surface of the earth?'
'I don't vanish, Draco. It's field work.'
'Planned trips more like it!' he snapped, 'That Potter knows about!'
'They aren't planned Draco,' she said, almost smiling in relief, 'I turn up at work and they have my bag packed, a checklist of what I'm meant to be doing and a portkey or apparation order.'
'Then why did godfather know about it?!' he bellowed, sliding to his feet so that she had to crane upwards to see him.
'Severus knew he was going to a potion's conference, Draco. He's my covering civilian. To the rest of the world I'm a reclusive Potions pupil, with Snape as my mentor.'
'Then why didn't you know you were going to this conference?' screamed the male.
'Because no-one told me, Draco, until two minutes before I left!'
'Then why did Potter know?!'
'Because as far as the Head of the Unspeakables knows there are two people who know what I am – Harry and Ron. Harry's my contact purely because aurors understand these things – the unpredictability of my work – and Ron's generally on field work himself with the auror squad! You're not meant to know because I was supposed to obliviate you when I left!'
There was stunned silence for a moment while Draco surveyed her with a mixture of confusion and horror.
'Obliviate me?' he croaked out at last, 'Obliviate me?'
'Obliviate you. All memories of my face and my voice and my injuries. A nameless, genderless, uninjured Unspeakable drifts out of your ward and you're none the wiser. Like you weren't before.'
'Before?' he whsipered, and seemed to be more disturbed by this than was normal.
'You've seen every top Unspeakable in the last two years since you completed your training. At least fifteen.'
'This is all a joke?' he asked at last, sinking ashen faced to the seat below him.
'No. Why do you think all the Unspeakables know you when they arrive up here.'
'You were meant to obliviate me? Why didn't you?'
There was a long pause as Draco surveyed Hermione with a pale, weak face, eyes opened rather too wide to be attractive. Hermione swallowed once, blinked, and brushed a finger along the edge of her trousers.
'Because,' she replied, almost too softly for him to hear, 'Because I owe you.'
She wasn't really telling the truth of course.
♠
Hermione Granger woke up at exactly half past six every morning. Today was slightly odd though, because the smell of sweat and sex filled the air, coupled with the scent of spicey, sophisticated aftershave. There was a heavy arm wrapped around her waist, and a hand curled protectively over her right breast. The gentle sounds of depp breathing perfumed the air around her. Cool cotton sheets were warm with body heat, tucked up to her waist and then abandoned. Shallow sunlight fell through the blinds of a flat she recognised as hers, and lay idily on the carpeted floor. There were a pair of her knickers on the light shade next to the bed.
Cautiously, so as not to wake Draco, who didn't get up for another hour at least (he, unlike her, was blessed with the gift many British teens develop and sustain through their lives, of being able to get washed and dressed in a remarkably fast amount of time due to barabaric starting times for education institutions) she slid from under the sheets and tucked them around him more firmly as he fidgeted at the loss of her body heat.
Her feet found slippers as she automatically reached for her dressing gown and draped it over herself, wandering out of the bedroom they occupied and into the kitchen area. The bowl of cereal was drenched in cold milk as she propped herself against the granite surfaces and chewed through the soggy, crisp mess of Weetabix Mini-Bites. The dish was neatly stored in the dishwasher and she moved into the bathroom to take an extroadinarily long shower.
By the time the warm water had had it's way with her, Draco was richoting off walls in his attempts to find the door, and sniffing unelegently. And yet she found it rather endearing when he cursed her flat for it's inability to have doors in the same place as his flat's doors were, and then promptly banged into the breakfast bar. She left him well alone in the morning, he was not a morning person as she had discovered the first day after he declared himself a temporary resident, and slipped into the bedroom again.
The Unspeakable uniform was flung over her chair, and she picked it up and pulled it on; the black jodhpers, black shirt and calf length supple dragon hide black boots. The dark cloak went on top, and her wand was strapped to her wrist, the other to her left wrist.
'Work?' asked Malfoy blearily, stumbling back into the bedroom in search of his black slacks, 'department of mysteries?'
'Oh yes,' replied the Unspeakable grimly, 'I need to have a little conversation with my superiors.'
'Argument?' asked her lover, pulling on the trousers and zipping them up easily.
'Well, no,' she answered, 'More a talking to.'
'Ow.'
♠
The entire contingent of Unspeakables was assembled in the main meeting room, completely silent as they were presented with the analysis of 433's undercover work. Eyes in every different hue were completely fixed to the magical projection as the stuttering and nervous Research Team (slightly less than gifted with 'people' skills) pointed, proded, tripped over and generally showed the results. Black over robes had been cast on the edge of the chairs, and notes were being scribbled by Team Leaders. Only squad A – the elite – were missing their squadron head, who was at that precise moment storming rather calmly through the room of time.
'And this is where the ancient rhune of barath can be se- Oh'
The old Unspeakable gave a little tremor of surprise as the door was flung backwards on it's hinges so fast it almost knocked 179 off his seat. A very furious, very female Unspeakable was standing there, a look of pure furious anger upon her pretty face.
'433' the head Unspeakable was first to speak, rising to his feet elegantly, 'You're not due back until tomorrow.'
'I know!' snarled Hermione, 'I've come to tell you I resign from field duty.'
The entire room, formerly silent, burst out into whispers and gossip like an exploding howler. The Head Unspeakable blinked, once, twice and again, sighed and began to reason with his best agent.
'I'm afraid 433 you won't be able to do that; you're my best officer and I need you on this case.'
'My hands aren't responding to treatment,' snapped Hermione, showing them the pale, dead hands. 'Even professor Snape cannot find anything to help them.'
'Your legilimancy is still useful,' came the sighed reply.
'I'm not interested in field work anymore.'
'I cannot allow you to resign because you fancy a inter department career change!'
'Fine!' shouted Hermione at last, 'You want the real reason I can't do field duty any more - because my mediwitch forbids me to!'
'Like every Unspeakable, Draco Malfoy is your mediwizard.'
'Do I look like any Unspeakable? Did you not notice the fact I have breasts and a female reproductary system?' Hermione's voice was steadily rising in volume, 'I have a mediwitch because I am a woman! And you may like to know that Draco Malfoy was not obliviated!'
'Not obliviated?!'
'I owed him a favour – and I want him to know what I am.'
'This can be discussed later, preferably tomorrow. Why can't you do fieldwork?'
'I'm bloody knocked up, alright?!' screamed the female agent.
There was stunned silence as Hermione left the room, slamming the door behind her so hard that a pulse of blue magic was seen around the edges.
Spluttering Area:-
Gah. I just re-read that. Gah. I know it was a bit confusing, but I have good excuses. I was under general anaesthetic for 45 minutes on Tuesday, with tubes up my throat (so now I have issues swallowing) and a grommet in my ear. How lucky am I. Just re-read it carefully. It makes sense second time around!
Ckrfan:- Yeah, but could they make up for the prolonged absence outside of my fiction so I don't get kicked off fanfiction? Sorry, no desk shags here. You could write a whole story made up of summaries! Thanks.
HPROXMYSOX:- I'm a dude. How special am I. Sorry you had to wait! Thanks!
Sweet jane:- marvelous is good. Very good. ::pats head:: Now not only Ginny is pregnant! Dundundun…
Innocentrose:- For me that was a big cliffie. Well, no cliffie here. Thanks for your review!
Paprika90:- Ever thought you might be reading too much Agatha Christie for your own good? I mean, you're ruining the plot for yourself. ::grin:: Right, first meeting of the Mutual Admiration Society tomorrow, okay? ::laughs:: In fact, let's make it continuous – mutual admiration every day.
Foxer:- No, I don't update regularly. I'm good like that. Especially when I'm on holdiay for the next three weeks. Whoops, probably shouldn't have told you that! Sleeping Dragons Die comes from something my mate serenely said to me when I was really angry, 'Let sleeping dragons lie,' and I said, 'duh, if sleeping dragons were left to lie, thousands of knights would kill them.' He didn't speak to me for at least a week. It just kind of evolved from that – and various bits of Celtic mythology derived from my real name. Note put in 3 weeks later: whoops.
MadAboutHarry:- ::nervous laughter:: was three weeks soon? I'm rather fond of jealous Draco as well, but I quite like hissy fit Draco so I had to squeeze him in.
Tracy3:- Mean, me? Blame my parents, they dragged me off to Southern Ireland for three weeks to be rained on and covered in mud the whole way upto the top of my jeans. Aaah, the joys of being Irish. Sorry you had to wait.
SORRYSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRY
I'm really sorry this chapter took so long to update, I've been on holiday for two weeks in S. Ireland and one week in Somerset, so I haven't seen a computer for almost a month. Please forgive me.
