6.
Hmmm.... I'm debating leaving this fic, since it's obvious not too many people are reading it...But this story will make me burst if I don't write it out...well, I want this chapter to actually advance the plot...wish me luck.... sigh
(oh, I finally realized that FanFiction isn't supporting any of my indentations, the lines, and some of the punctuation I use. Sorry.)
Draco stopped to knock on the door labeled
"N.Longbottem, Head Auror."
Almost immediately, it swung inward, and Draco stalked into the office. Hermione paused, and stood in the hall, a look of pure bewilderment on her face. Draco impatiently swung around, his robes slapping against his legs
"Well, what are you waiting for? Lightening to strike?" He hissed, and reached over to grab her arm. "What are you staring at you ninny?"
She simply pointed into the office, where Neville sat behind the bureau with a look of amusement; and sitting in the chair next to it-
"Mr. Malfoy, I may not be able to dock points after ten years, but I would enjoy strongly to reprimand you for abusing a young woman. Please release your grip and sit down so we can get on with this wretched business." Said the silky voice of none other than Professor, now Headmaster Severus Snape.
Hermione had not glimpsed the rather greasy looking teacher since Ron's wedding, and saw a cleaner well groomed man who seemed to be doing well. Clearly a head master's salary was what he needed. His usual gloomy old robes were replaced with black silk that reached his neck, with silver buttons on the cuffs and neckline. He wore a curious hat on his head that looked like a square box. She got the impression that Severus Snape had stepped out of the Renaissance, or he was a Rembrandt painting sprung to life.
Hermione collected her wits, and managed to conceal her utter bewilderment, with an inclined head and a murmured "How do you do?" In a day of pure surprise and shock, she wondered whom she would see next. Perhaps Moaning Myrtle would pop out of the wall now?
She sat in a chair near Neville and watched Draco sink into an armchair situated near Snape.
"Well, good day 'Mione. I know it's rather early for you- (Draco audibly sniggered, but was cut off by Hermione's look) – but this is serious. I'm sure you've been briefed on the situation we are facing. And our future sting operation. Now, before we do that, we will be orchestrating a reconnaissance mission. You, Draco Malfoy, with Headmaster Snape's assistance will be attending a meeting of the Servants of the Serpent, an organization you could say Draco is well acquainted with. Here are the details, I want you to read them over."
Neville handed them both a rather large ream of parchment.
"I want you two to gather more information as to who is head of this group. We want this person to stand trial, and hopefully get carted to Azkaban. I want you both to be ready and in the backroom of Weasly's Wizarding Wheezes by 3 AM tomorrow. Snape will help you two transport to the meeting place of the group. Alright?"
Draco sagely nodded. Hermione leafed through the text of the parchment, and looked at Neville, straight in the eyes. She wondered what she would do without such a good friend. Ever since he had asked her out to the Graduation Ball...
"Er...Hermione. I've got something to ask you."
"Mmm?" She had murmured, while she sat by the common room fire, nursing her broken foot on a pouf. The battle had been over for a week, but Hermione had found herself brooding more often.
"Mioneyouwanagotothedancewimeemorow?" He had blurted out, eyes shut, as though finally spilling what was on his mind.
She had given him a look of pure surprise. Her had gaze seemed to clear as she realized what he had said, though garbled
"What?"
"I'll understand if you say no...really, you don't have to go with me..."
"Oh Neville..." she had said, a tear involuntarily slipping down her cheek. "I-I can't. It's nothing to do with you. I- don't imagine I'd be much fun. Besides, I don't think I'll be dancing for another month or so." She had said quietly, referring to her foot, her thoughts, everything.
"That's fine." He had pulled over a pouf to sit next to her. She turned her head curious to hear what he meant. "I won't go either."
"Oh, Neville. Don't do this. Besides, Padma Patel's been talking about you non-stop. You've gotten quite popular, since-you know. Why don't you ask her?"
"She's gone back to Diagon Alley to check on Parvati in St.Mungo's." he said shortly. "Besides. I don't think I'd have much fun either. Killing her...it wasn't what I'd thought it would be...I was like her...but worse." he said quietly. Hermione had given him a look of utter sadness, and he stared back with clear, despair filled eyes.
For years, Neville had been harboring a growing hatred for Lestrange, the one who had ripped his life into pieces by torturing his parents. In the final battle, Neville had been the one to strike her with Avada Kedavra first, but only after making her go through the same torture as his parents.
He had broken down, quietly, and she had held his head in her lap throughout the night, stroking his hair as he cried what he needed. They had spent the rest of the night quietly talking, pouring their hearts out. Neville, she realized, was the only one who knew why she still held such an emotional price on what had happened that night, and she of him. He had arguably, however, managed his best to get over the events. He had renewed his auror's training after school, eventually making head of the division. They never spoke of that emotional night afterward, but later on the train home from Hogwarts, he had kissed her on the cheek, and said simply, "Thank you. For everything," when he got off at Kings Crossing.
Those same eyes stared back at her now, though older with more courage and brevity than before. How could she refuse someone she loved as a brother?
"Yes. Of course."
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Hermione and Draco stepped out of the front door of the ministry to be greeted by the usual English rain. Draco cursed and pulled his cloak over his head; Hermione realized that a few of the uttering were Latin, Italian, or French, all three that she was familiar with. She didn't want to let him know she knew their origin, and primly pulled out her wand, and after making her own black with white polka-dotted umbrella appear, made a similar looking one appear for Draco.
"Here." She said, quietly, thrusting it toward him.
"Downright girly is what I'll look like carrying this around." he said gruffly, but opening it all the same over his head.
"Come. I expect we'll need to go into Diagon Alley for what we need." She said, looking around. When was there a muggle taxi when you needed it?
"Tu est trop agaçante.." He muttered quietly. Shaking out his robes, and swiping his matching shirt free of water.
"Ah, oui, et tu est un bête. Quest-ce que tu pense, je ne peaux pas parlé français?" she hissed loudly.
She turned on her heel, deciding to walk towards Diagon Alley. He could bloody well follow her if he wanted to. If she had only looked back, she would have seen a rare sight.
Draco stood in the pouring rain, with a look of pure dumbfoundedness. Suddenly, he broke into a grin. "Touché madammoiselle.Touché"
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By the time Hermione had reached the wall that contained Diagon Alley, the rain had stopped. And by the time she had tapped the bricks, and stepped into the teeming marketplace, followed closely by Draco, the sun had broken out. Shaking her umbrelly free of rain, she pocketed her wand and rolled up her umbrella to carry under her arm.
"Well, here we are. Let's step into a café. We'll need to go over these monstrous texts Longbottem calls a brief." He said pulling her arm and seemed to drag her through the crowd. They stopped in front of an outdoor café, and they both sat down under the umbrella-ed table and chairs. Huffing at the ill treatment of being pulled through the streets, Hermione opened up her brief and quickly read all the notes Neville had written. She glanced up to see that Draco had done the same in the seat across from her.
"'Mione!" yelled a duet of deep baritone voices. Hermione looked up with a startled look at a profoundly amused Draco, as he felt a pair of arms engulf her. As she was released from the grip, she realized that it was Fred and George Weasly, both staring at her with a beaming look. The two, who had always taken after the stockier side of the family, were still stocky and identical, down to their spiked red hair (giving the impression of hell-fire sprouting from their skulls) and their wicked expression.
"George? Fred?" she stammered.
"Oh look brother she knows our names." Said Fred (or was it George?) staggering with his hand on his heart.
"Oh shut it. What are you two doing here. And who's minding the store?" she said curtly, though not able to hid a small smile on her face.
"Business Manager Ronald Weasly. He took a day off from his catering company for us. I believe you know of him?" George said leaning into her chair. "We were helping the lovely Madame Rosmerta with a business plan for the future of her cafe, and we were just leaving," he said pointing to the indoor part of the café "when I saw a ginger haired beauty sitting here with the most forlorn look on her face...and I said to Fred here -didn't I Fred?- If only she would go out to luncheon with me instead of this platinum, Herculean git..." he broke off, clasping her hand in his rather large one, and bending on his knee.
"That we could die happy..." said Fred with a similarly dramatic pose, slapping Malfoy on the back.
"Har de har har..." said Draco clapping mirthlessly, with a smirk. "Funny, but wrong. This snippet and I are here on a mission for Dumbledore. I'm sure you two are aware of it, since we are to depart from that rather resourceful resource room of you store?" he said.
The two of them sat down in the remaining wicker chairs around the table, and suddenly seemed to gain an air of seriousness. It always disconcerted Hermione when they shifted moods like that, since her best memories were of the two forever trying to dodge her when she was a prefect.
"Right-o."said Fred. "And his Majesty Snape is to be there too. The back door will be unlocked, just come in ready. And I mean ready like this." He said turning to Hermione and handing her a small brown paper packet with no writing on it. She took it with some curiosity.
"What is it?" she asked turning it over in her hand.
"Ready made Glamour. Produced exclusively for the Ministry of Magic." Said George quietly, and unconsciously, they all leaned in. "Just pour the powder into a drink, and ingest. You'll almost immediately be changed. Not dramatically, just enough to be immediately unrecognizable. Cuts on the need for Polyjuice potion. Nasty stuff, that." Fred finished off.
"And will I turn back?" she asked.
"Of course. Depends on if you want to though. You'll need to say a few words. Here."
George pulled a ready-quill out of somewhere in the depth of his nice silk red robes, and quickly scribbled a few words onto the packet.
"Quantum de..."
George clapped his hand over her mouth. "Don't say it unless you need to, love. There's a reason we don't sell the stuff. It's rather powerful..."
She nodded with an amount of grave understanding. She, the so-called smartest witch of all time, recognized the twins' power. They may have dropped out of Hogwarts, but were two of the most powerful wizards of all time.
"Good. Let's go George, Rosmerta wants a few projected profit sheets." Said Fred rising out of his chair,
"The gall of her." Said Draco sarcastically.
"Oh, here love. Ginny wanted us to give this to you. She said to be there at 4pm sharpish. Words of advice don't be late. She gets right catty that one does." Winked George, pocketing his quill, and handing her a small notecard. They left, Fred turning to make claw motions and hissing noises to illustrate his sister's temperament to the bewilderment of passer-byes as they walked further down the street. Hermione shook her head and pocketed the Glamour in her robes.
"I don't know about you Granger, but I'm famished. You make a lovely tea, but one can't survive on it." He said, picking up a menu that was lying on the table. Almost instantly, as though a silent bell was attached to the menu, a house-elf wearing a dishtowel with "Madame Rosmerta's Bistro Café" embroidered on it, zoomed next to them.
"If it pleases youse sir, what is it you woulds like to order? Tinker is pleased to bring you what it is you wants to eat." the house-elf babbled.
"Get me a steak with scalloped potatoes. A glass of red wine would go well with that. And the same for the girl."
Fire flashed in Hermione's eyes. "First, Tinker, I will not have the steak and potatoes, I am vegetarian. A salad will do. And, I do not drink. Only at special occasion. And this is certainly not a special occasion. So I will be as much obliged if you brought me a glass of water." She said with gentleness for the house elf, preserving the venom for Draco with a glare.
Tinker zoomed off, to fulfill the order. Hermione glanced down at the card in her hand, and sucked her teeth.
"What is it Granger? Surely not a drunk cow? Two of the most delicious things in life together and offending you?" Draco said liltingly.
"No. I have to go to a fitting at 4." She said annoyed.
"For what?" asked Draco curiously.
"A dress as Maid of Honor..." she said her head in her hands...Ginny was a monster when it came to fittings. As the woman with the latest styles for witches, her couture fashion line was just another successful aspect of the growing Weasly Family Enterprise. She would be lucky to come out in something she didn't feel half nude in, or too flashy for her own elegantly geared tastes.
"Really?" Draco said averting his gaze. "How very fascinating..."he said quickly, reaching for the goblet of wine that Tinker had placed before him. The elf placed a rose colored goblet of water with a slice of lemon in front of Hermione, and ran back to the kitchens for the meals.
"Well, Draco. Now's a good time as any."
"For what Granger?" he said disdainfully.
"I want you to explain everything. I want the real truth, not this rubbish they're feeding me," she said flinging the parchment-brief on to the table, startling Draco enough to slosh his wine. "Tell me, why do I need a glamour and you don't?" she said leaning back and folding her arms over her chest.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------A.N.- that was a better chapter if I say so myself. I want to set you up for the truth about Draco (cue dramatic music. duh duh DUH! )
Please review. Do you want to keep reading this, or should I drop it?
French Translation (please excuse this poor fifth year French student, from her horrible use of accents)- "Tu est trop agaçante.." You are really very annoying
"Ah, oui, et tu est un bête. Quest-ce que tu pense, je ne peaux pas parlé français?" Yes, and you are a beast. What do you think, I don't know how to speak French ?
"Touché madammoiselle.Touché" do I really need to translate that ? no. I think you're smart enough.... :-)
(Horribly obvious) teaser: Next chapter hails a rather uncomfortable situation for Hermione involving pins and bad colored cloth, and Draco feels the resounding smack of indignation (from Hermione...)