Charcoal Silk and Emerald Satin
2.
Hermione slowly lowered her wand, and tried to bring her usually astute thought process into order. In front of her, stood the one man she had not wanted to speak to or look upon for the rest of her life. Ever. Harry had made his peace with Draco Malfoy years ago on that fateful night with Voldemort. And so had Ron, though rather grudgingly.
"Hermione...look, I genuinely hated him, and even I can be a little civil. Dumbledore trusts him! For god sakes, 'mione, he rather saved our lives don't you think? Can't you be a little polite at our wedding at the very least?"
"Ron," she had said turning on him with a cool fury inside her. "I work for the ministry. There is so much intelligence on that git it would make your head turn. Besides, the only reason he helped is because it was obvious Lucious wasn't going to make it, and that ninny of a mother of his (if you can call her that) was not going to be able to hold on to their manor and wealth. Voldemort would have turned on them. He did it to save his arse. Pure and simple. And you know Dumbledore, sweet as he is, is sometimes a rather lackluster judge of character..." She had hissed.
After getting over the initial shock of hearing his sweet "'mione" saying "arse", Ron had thrown his hands up in the air and pronounced her hopeless.
"Look. I will only come to your wedding if I do not have lay eyes on that serpent. If you can work that out, I will happily attend. No sulking. I promise."
And Ron had obliged. That was three years ago, when Ron and Lavender had had her sit all the way across the three acre garden at the reception, so she would have no chance of running into him. She had not seen that pale face, the permanent smirk, or the arched eyebrow since she was 18 years old. And here he was, all glorious 6 foot 5, 208 pounds of him. He leaned into the door frame, and Hermione took an involuntary step back.
"Well Granger. You certainly look the worse for wear. Inviting me in?" he said as though she was his neighbor, and he was only over for some cocktails and a brunch, and had just seen each other the night before. At 6 o'clock in the morning no less...
The little jab at her attire had snapped her out of her funk, and she raised her wand again.
"What are you doing her Malfoy?" she nearly snarled. She resisted the urge to raise her hands up to her messy "French twist" and to check to make sure her short robe was closed.
Draco raised his hands in mock surrender.
"Granger, I can assure I mean you no harm. Really. Look, don't hex me into oblivion," He reached into the inner pocket of his robes, and snorted when Hermione opened her mouth to speak. "Oh, do stop it. Look, it's from Dumbledore himself..."
Tentatively, she reached over and quickly snapped up the small bit of parchment that Draco had held in his hands. Her wand still raised at the ready, she quickly scanned the letter.
The Ministry of Magic
London
May 18th
To:
Miss. Hermione Granger
18 Rose Stem Way
Apt. 678
3rd Floor
In the family room
Sleeping on the green couch
Diagon Alley, London
Dear Miss. Granger,
I hope this letter finds you well at home, and in the loveliest of accommodations. I must however, regret that I may be interrupting the peace and quiet which you are quite used to with the news I must relay to you.
In the light of the recent developments your friends have had in their personal lives, I have decided you are the best person who may help in the task I have set out. I have entrusted one Mr. Draco Malfoy (Whom I am sure you recall from your years as a student) with this note, and the detailed information which I wish to pass on to you. Since a letter is always open to eyes it was not intended for, I will not give many details, and hope Mr. Malfoy will fulfill his task.
Know this; it is imperative that you accept this task, and help with its execution. In no way do I promise that it will be easy, but for it to succeed would mean an easing of peace within the magic world.
So, I bid adieu to you, and hope that you will be (what I have assured my colleagues) the one for the job.
Sincerely and with much anticipation,
Albus Dumbledore
Minister of Magic
Order of Merlin
And the Phoenix.
P.S. I hope to see you at the future marriage of Virginia Weasly and Harry Potter in July. I received the invitation three weeks ago.
Hermione looked up incredulously at Draco as he stood leaning into her door frame with his arms folded across his chest.
"What is he talking about?" she said in what she had hoped would be a strong commanding voice, her Healing Trainer's voice, but which betrayed a nervous waver.
"Well now, I could tell you right here couldn't I? However, I have to say it is rather sensitive information. And rather time consuming. So you see, I would rather impart the information in a more comfortable setting. Sitting perhaps. Of course, lying down would be the most comfortable position, but I doubt you-"
"For God's sake, get inside." She hissed, waving her wand hand at the family room where she had been asleep only a few minutes ago. Draco managed to look suave as he swished his robes à la masseur Snape and swept into the room and sitting on her favorite part of the green upholstered couch.
She struggled to digest what was going on so early in the morning. She had fallen asleep the night before on the couch listening to her favorite music after a hard day at the ministry, Vivaldi, and awoken to a man she had hoped to keep a stranger her whole life, with a cryptic letter from her most trusted confidante, and...and...since when had Draco become so....snarky?
Sarcastic, yes.
Irritating, yes.
Insulting, yes.
But rarely had she experienced all combined into a full force of talkative annoyance. So it took all she had to muster up the courtesy to ask "Would you like something to drink?"
It came out rather sarcastic, but she didn't care.
"Yes. Some butter beer or gin would be nice at the moment. Though it seems you're a bit of a teetotaler yourself," he said picking up her china cup off the floor near his feet. She furiously grabbed it and stalked into the kitchen where she started banging pots and pans together and washed it in the sink. She poured him a nice cup, and herself one, and fairly shoved it into his face as she came back into her tiny family room.
"Explain. Now. Or get out. "she said in a rather calm manner.
"Are you sure? I do so want to enjoy this cuppa that you served me with your loving hands-"
"Now Malfoy. You have ten minutes." She said. Satisfied she had finally gained the upper hand in the conversation; she took a delicate sip from her cup, and sat down on an ottoman that was across the room from where he sat on the couch and demurely crossed her legs.
Draco seemed to check the cheeky comment that was about to come out of his mouth, and reconsider what he was about to say.
"Want me to sum it up in one sentence?"
"A word would be fine. Whatever Malfoy, just stop wasting my time please."
He lifted the cup, and spent an infuriating ten seconds loudly slurping her Earl Grey tea. He put down he cup, and said in an oddly serious tone:
"Granger, if you accept what I am about to say, you could help bring in the biggest criminals in Wizarding England history."
AN- Well, that's interesting, I wrote the whole second chapter, and am still filling it with flashbacks. Don't worry, eventually I'll get to the plot, and the wacko relationship that is Draco & Hermione. Soon. Hopefully....