Empire and Exigency
Chapter 4 : Assignation
by Annie B

Rated PG-13

JKR still owns all things Hogwarts. I still don't. Too bad for me.

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Draco Malfoy blinked up at the green velvet canopy. At the corner, part of the silver fringe was fraying. Dobby's fault. He would never have been so careless back when he was a Malfoy elf, but now that the creature 'worked' for Hogwarts? Unpunished elves got sloppy.

He checked his watch. It said 'time to move.'

Easing one foot out from beneath the blankets, he felt for his slippers.

They were his favorites, fuzzy green snakes with upcurved tails and soft velvet fangs that brushed up against his ankles when he slid his toes into the open scarlet mouths. A Christmas gift from his mother. He had considered enchanting them to chase first years- better yet, Griffies - but had decided against it when Filtch had confiscated his previous little... project. Screaming firsties were amusing - but not worth the loss of really comfy shoes.

His best bathrobe, the black one with the Malfoy crest on the pocket, was tossed over the chair beside the bed. (Not by chance. Draco was a planner.) He slid it on, buttoning it up high to cover his light gray sleep shirt.

It seemed a bit tacky, going to tonight's...gathering... in pajamas. Still - given the choice between image and effect? Draco had learned the art of pragmatism.

They all had.

The last three days had been torture.

Looking sad and bereft as the Gringott's goblins went thought the paperwork required to transfer control of the Malfoy fortune.

Accepting the patently false 'sympathy' of Minister Fudge. Bastard would miss Lucius Malfoy all right. Miss his bribe money. Draco had no intention of passing any more Malfoy galleons to a stupid political hack who couldn't even keep his patron out of prison. There were better causes out there - and better pawns to work them.

Shedding the proper tears at the very private memorial service. Hearing the assurances of 'support' from Nott and Crabbe Senior and the other white-masked losers who ( Draco sneered at the memory ) had done nothing to save his father and would to less to avenge him - caught up in their own petty ambitions as they were. Returning the equally false promise of friendship and support.

Posing for the Daily Prophet photographers. repeating the lie that his mother was ill with grief. In a hospital. In Prague. That he knew she would be back to talk to them soon.

Looking brave and resolute as he asked for Remus Lupin to be named his guardian for the rest of the year. (His mothers cousin's husband. It was believable. Almost. If one was an idiot. Which fortunately Fudge was.) The pauper didn't know a sickle from a cinnamon stick - but fortunately the wolf *knew* he knew nothing. He would take the pay, take Draco's orders, and ( as Lupin was one of Dumbledore's pets ) take a great deal of suspicion off of Draco. Besides which - it amused Draco to have a 'dark creature' at his beck and call. If one *was* going to be a 'dark wizard' then... one should do it fully, should one not?

Looking the *opposite* of a dark wizard for that silly Hufflepuff from social services. "No, daddy never spoke to me about dark magic. Ever. Honest.' He deserved a damn muggle Oscar for that one.

Forcing himself to smile innocently at the Aurors who had stalked him after class. Officially to 'update' him about the investigation into his fathers death. Realistically ( Draco was a realist) come to do there own investigating. Draco was *the* Malfoy now, and so just as great an asset to either side as his father had been. The Aurors had done little to hide there belief as to just which side they thought Draco preferred.

Draco suppressed a snort. As if.

He had his own alliances now.

Unscrewing the bedpost finial, Draco felt inside until his fingernail caught on a thin metal ring. He pulled it out. A silver serpent, biting it's own tail. The symbol of the new order. Cleaner than Voldemort's haunted skull; quieter than Dumbledore's phoenix; more subtle than either. He stroked the tiny carved scales. The curved wire fangs. When a snake bit its tail - it hurt only itself. A lesson there.

He slid the ring on quickly, kissing the arrow head to activate the 'Inperceptus' charm. Not as good as true invisibility. Little help against a wizard who was actively looking. Better than nothing.

It worked on the guardian picture as he slid out the common room door.

Perhaps he would buy a real invisibility cloak the next time he was in London. He could certainly afford one. Yes. An invisibility cloak and that dead man's hand he had been wanting. He could use the light. The corridors were dark, and once he was out of Slitheryn territory he had to feel his way slowly.

"Draco."

Arms wrapped around his shoulders.

"Hermione." he whispered back. It was her - looking huggable in fuzzy pink terry cloth. She had towel wrapped around her still-dry hair. If caught, she would claim to be headed for the girls bathroom.

True enough, Draco conceded. He didn't think that excuse would work as well for him.

He pulled her into the shadows, taking the chance to kiss her as he did.

"My dragon." She kissed him back. "I've missed you."

Then she showed him just how she had.

That was a nice five minutes. When they parted, most of the tension was gone from Draco's shoulders.

"Have you heard from...?" Even alone, better not to risk names.

"Indirectly." Hermione rested against Draco, her warm softness a strange counterpoint to the cold stone wall behind them. "Mother wrote. She said she had a phone call the day...after. So far..."

Draco understood. So far so good. With so far to go. This was the start of a great gamble, and if they failed? He shivered - not entirely because of the stone.

"We better get moving." Hermione rebelted her robe. "Ron's gone to get the car. *He* should be here soon."

"You're right." Draco finger combed his hair back onto order. "It wouldn't do to to keep *him* waiting."

End Chapter Four

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TWO people liked the last chapter - so I'm going to try one more.

Daintress - this won't explain matters - just make them more confused (I am EVIL!) but... you can bet Ron is up to something. Right now- up to his neck.