11.

I won't delay too much. Thank you to Kazfiest, who both found every one of my idiotic typos (sorry for that by the way, it must make for frustrating reading...), and was able to identify one half of the literary works I quoted. They were Shakespeare's a Winter's Tale and A Midsummer Night's Dream (I have a feeling that a Winter's Tale is where J.K. Rowling got Hermione's name, since the main female lead is Queen Hermione......)If you have a working knowledge of A Midsummer Night's Dream, then you know who Miguel really is. Shh! I've already given too much away...he he.

On the issues of typos, it just generally happens because I can't see them when I edit, it just seems fine to my eyes because what I'm "hearing" in my head matches up. I'm reeealy sorry for that, I know it's annoying when I read fics and there are glaring mistakes. Just realize I feel bad about it....later when I'm done with the story, I'll actually go back and try to re-upload everything corrected.

Without further ado, here is chapter 11.

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Hermione clutched her purse as she waited awkwardly outside of the locker room, where Ginny had told her to wait. While she was protected behind a wooden barrier, in front of her, beyond the barrier was all the press from both the English Magical Press Association as well as the Wizarding World Press Association. Light bulbs were flashing puffs of colored smoke, and there seemed to be thousands of voices clamoring for answers from all the athletes exiting the locker-room. A few stopped to sign autographs and answer some questions, and for the most part Hermione was ignored as another fan. She nervously pushed her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose as famous muscular men paraded past her. At any other time, she would have stopped to enjoy the moment, but she had had a monster hangover from the night before, and her nerves were starting to get frayed.

She suddenly heard a roar of approval from the crowd and the flashing of the cameras reached another pitch in volume. She turned to look at the door, and her suspicions about the renewed frenzy were confirmed as she saw Harry and Ginny stroll out, hand in hand holding Harry's equipment between the two. She scurried toward them to help.

" 'Mione, don't bother! We've got it taken care of." Protested Harry as she took what looked like a heavy bag of practice snitches.

"Oh, posh. If I don't do any physical exertion I'll end up weak as a flower." She said, gritting her teeth at the weight. As they made their way along the walkway toward the port keys set up for the players the questions seemed to fire from all directions.

"Mr.Potter, how do you feel about the loss today? Any regrets?"

"Potter! Potter! Who're the groomsmen? Is it true that you have rented a fleet of dragons to pull the wedding carriage of Miss. Virginia? Please tell us! Our readers are dying to know."

"Potter, who's the lovely girl in the shades? You're new bodyguard? Are there confirmed reports of a Death Eater uprising then?"

Hermione gritted her teeth as her heightened senses alerted her to every sound, and movement. Harry stopped to go up to an eager group of reporters, and as she and Ginny stood on the path, she suddenly caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and whipped her head around. She dropped her purse and the bag of snitches.

"HARRY! DUCK!" she yelled, pulling out her wand from her pant pocket. She didn't know where she got the strength, but she leapt on to Harry's body which seemed to be going down too slowly. She dimly heard Ginny shriek behind her...

She landed on Harry's much larger frame with a loud "Oof!" from him as he got the wind knocked out of his lungs. She held his arms down and felt a small sensation in the side of her waist as what seemed like a ray of white fire whizzed by grazing her but thankfully missing Harry.

There was a deafening uproar as people started to panic, running every which way, and to Hermione's disgust some reporters continued snapping pictures. She rolled off Harry, and they both rose and assumed a defensive position, ones they had learned years ago when they were Dumbledore's Army. She saw a few armed guards come rushing toward them, and she had lost sight of the short figure with an outstretched wand that had caught her eyes earlier. Damn.

She recognized the figure of Deputy Auroror Angelina Spinnett striding quickly towards them, and dropped her stance. Harry did the same, and Ginny came rushing up to him to give him a crushing hug. Her orange silk dress was rumpled, and tears dotted its elegant bodice as she held on to Harry. Poor girl, Hermione thought, she had obviously thought Harry was done for.

"Granger!" Said Angelina in a surprised tone, pocketing her own wand as the other guards declared the area clear.

"Thanks, I suppose I should start calling you "Spinnett" from now on should I?" said Hermione in a rather shaky voice, though trying to muster up some confidence.

"No! Cripes, 'Mione, you need a medic! PETER, CODE BLUE!" she said turning and shouting to an auroror with shocking green hair and an eyebrow ring. He nodded and turned to run to the nearest port key to the hospital. Hermione glanced down with a dawning realization, and saw that what she thought was a nick was actually a gash that ran around the right curve of her waist. Blood was seeping through the light blue blouse she was wearing. With the realization, a burning pain came flooding over her as her adrenaline ran out, and she doubled over with the pain.

She distantly heard Ginny give a little cry as her vision went black, and her body crumpled to the ground.

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"Ungh."

The sound that came out of Hermione's throat was not what she wanted to say. What she wanted to tell the world was that she was awake. Easy really, all she had to do was open her eyelids.

The sun from St.Mungo's skylight flooded the room giving it an ethereal glow, and Hermione moved her eyes around to see the sitting form of Albus Dumbledore on a seat next to her hospital bed.

"Ah! Miss. Granger, I see you are awake. The nurses have insisted that you will be all right, though a little sore I would imagine." He said, patting her on the shoulder. She managed to weakly nod.

"Well that's good. Here, have a bean. I find them uncommonly good, though I generally find most sweets uncommonly good." He said, handing her a cream colored Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. She hesitatingly put it in her mouth, but was rewarded with the taste of a French vanilla café. Dumbledore grimaced as he tasted the black bean he had chosen.

"Ah me. Yak hair." He said. He chuckled a little. "This is quite reminiscent of a discussion I had with Mr. Potter his first year," he explained when Hermione gave him a querying look. As he turned to place the box on a nearby table along with a pile of singing cards and various boxes of sweets, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, and grimaced before standing up. Glancing at her waist where there was only a faint hairline scar, she had to give her seal of approval. It was a top notch sealing spell, and she had to admit only she or Murielle Smith who was head of the Medi-Wizard Guild could perform it any better . She was a little dismayed to see that her blouse, that she had spent of good amount of money on from one of Ginny's boutiques was ruined for good.

Dumbledore graciously offered his arm, and Hermione accepted it feeling like she would fall over otherwise. She finally got a look around her room, and was stunned.

Surrounding her, all around the room was bouquet after bouquet of her favorite flower. The heady smell of white roses filled the room, and she could not speak as she timidly walked over to a particularly large bunch near the window and delicately smelled them. Lovely.

"Ah yes. Many people care about you Hermione. Despite what you may feel." He said, the trademark twinkle appearing in his eyes.

"What'll happen to them when I check out?" she asked him, full well knowing the answer, being a Healer herself.

"I imagine they will be disposed of."

"Can we...can they do a delivery for me? Please?" she said almost pleading. They were too lovely. Every single blossom perfect and just bloomed. She noticed that the roses had no thorns, having been carefully clipped. Of the almost two hundred flowers, not a single one had a spike on it. She plucked out a short stemmed blossom, and held it to her heart. "Can they be delivered to the children's wing?" she asked.

"I imagine I can pull a few strings..." he with a little mirth in his voice. He patted her on the shoulder, and they walked to the front desk.

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The tea that Dumbledore handed her had a delicious scent, and Hermione was rewarded with a taste of one the finest Earl Gray teas she had ever tasted. He took a seat in his high-backed chair in the endlessly large office, and Hermione couldn't help but smile as Fawkes flew by her, touching her head with his now fully grown wings. It was the next morning, and Dumbledore had sent her a port key so that she could arrive at the Ministry without much strain.

"Now Miss. Granger. I believe I owe you an apology." Dumbledore said a little gravely.

"For what?" she said mildly surprised.

"For misjudging this situation. It seems we were much too complacent in believing that this was an easily solved situation. As you can see from yesterday, assassination before their big mission is not uncalled for. It was pure luck that you were with Virginia and Harry yesterday Hermione. Pure luck. This situation is more volatile than we had first imagined. You were hurt Hermione. True it was not fatal, but you were hurt in a situation where you should not have been."

Dumbledore closed his eyes.

"Therefore I will understand if you decide to remove yourself from the rest of this operation." He said looking at her.

She put down her cup thoughtfully. She honestly didn't know what to do. This would give her so much more peace. She could go back to concentrating on her classes, and maybe going to a few Servant meetings to gather information. Nothing more.

But yesterday....Harry and Ginny could have been killed by that hex. She had escaped with a the bare minimum of injury. And she didn't want to see her friends hurt again. They had been living under too much fear for too long. When would it end, if she didn't help?

"No, you are mistaken. I will continue with my work, most definitely."

As she hid herself behind the pretext of taking a long draught of the tea, Dumbledore suddenly grinned, and nodded his head in relief.

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"She was released yesterday morning, under my supervision."

Draco leaned back in the cushioned chair, and folded his arms thoughtfully. He had not heard the news of the assassination attempt (or 'A Hex for Harry', as the tabloids were calling it) until yesterday morning. He had nearly choked on his toast at breakfast upon the sight of a picture on the front page of Hermione rolling off of Harry's prone body, and looking behind her as Harry pulled out his wand.

Unfortunately for him, the story did not elaborate very much, except to say that neither the great Seeker Harry Potter nor his glamorous fashionista fiancée had been injured. That morning at the Ministry, all the talk had been about setting up more security precautions around Potter Manor. At about noon, he had been summoned to the Minister's office.

"Good. So she's ok then?" he said, careful to sound noncommittal.

"Quite. A little scar and some soreness. But she's under orders of strict bed rest, and should be fine as long as she is quiet for a day." Dumbledore said gently. "But now I must ask you. How is your personality?"

Draco got quiet, thinking to himself. "All right I suppose. I haven't turned fully berserker since the battle. But..."

"Yes?"

"My temper flared a little too much yesterday morning. I got it out with some physical work with the twins. However, I am inclined to think that it is more strained than usual." He said a little defeated. After ten years of barely a flare up, would the insane side of his temper finally make itself known?

"Hm, well I see no reason to be worried. You are in a high stress situation with this mission. Which leads to my next query: do you find yourself with this new development and obvious strain to you mental state, wish to continue?" Dumbledore said, a little fiercely, as though a little challenging.

Draco looked at him startled. "I will continue with my work, most definitely"

Dumbledore smiled. "As she said so eloquently only an hour ago."

"She was in the office?" Draco asked sharply. "What is she doing if she needs her bed rest?"

"Only for about thirty minutes Mr. Malfoy. She was transported with a port key. And she has devoted her free time to this cause, and has in fact offered to come in and perform a Medi-Wizard certified autopsy of the assassin."

"What?!" he said jostling his teacup. Behind him, he heard Fawkes start to squawk as he tried to use his handkerchief to blot a puddle of tea he had created on Dumbledore's fine carpet. He pushed the handkerchief into the pocket of his trousers, and continued his 'discussion'. "I thought the assassin wasn't apprehended..."

"Ah, just too quickly for the press to make a hullabaloo about it as they do most things I'm afraid. Hermione had successively averted any danger, and the Deputy Auroror, Angelina Spinett had her guard chase him down while she was procuring a medical transport for Miss. Granger. He unfortunately chose to sacrifice his life for his cause."

"He performed the Cyanide Curse I assume?" said Draco icily.

"Quite. However, we have no idea as to who he is, and frankly, an autopsy will tell us much more.

"And what can I do?" he asked, placing the cup on the enormous desk.

"Mr. Malfoy. You are an excellent field agent. I know what you do is an enormous strain already. To add this mission must add more undue stress. However, none of these provide and excuse for you behavior." Dumbledore said quietly. Draco set his jaw, but continued to listen. Dumbledore gave a quiet sigh, and continued.

"Miss. Granger is still not aware of your condition nor you occupation. She had severed any ties; though slim if any, from your school days. She had undergone sever pain and grief at the death she has witnessed, and that she is the buttress of others, while no one really supports her. The battle hit too close to home for her than she thinks it should have. And you, in her eyes are one of the reasons it happened ten years ago." He held up a hand for silence as Draco opened his mouth to protest. "And, if you want to get technical, in a very drawn out sense, you were. Therefore, if you wish to continue towards success in this mission I think you should heed some advice."

"What?" he answered through his teeth.

"A little genuine kindness. You were, and I assume bred as a gentleman. Please, treat her a little as such."

Draco curtly nodded, then got up to shake Dumbledore's hand, and then he quickly exited the room.

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Draco walked down the front steps of the Ministry, noting that the sky was a shining blue in contrast to a few days ago when he had walked out with Hermione. He whispered the words to apparate, and landed in Finnegan's Tavern and Inn.

The popular eatery was started by Seamus Finnegan a few years ago, and was thriving from the business of Diagon Alley. Draco took of his robes, and sat at the bar counter in his khaki pants and black tailored shirt and tie.

"Hello Draco. The usual?" said the Barmaid, her robes a deep blue, with the tag that said "Hi, I'm Kazfiest Corrigan. Please call me Kaz!" She was the usual server, and she knew Draco by sight, and the fact that he tipped well.

"Yeah, Kaz. Some vodka would be nice right now." He sighed.

Kaz frowned, swinging a lock of hair out of her eyes, though continuing to wipe the counter.

"Something so strong, so early in the day? Are you sure that-"

"Kaz." He interrupted "this is one of those times where you serve me alcohol, and no questions are asked."

She threw her hands up in defeat, and reached down to fill a cup with a splash of the gray liquid, and slid it in front of him. He threw the liquid to the back of his throat, not even tasting it, and slid the glass back at her, and she hesitatingly filled it again...

She shivered at Draco's malevolent smirk, as he swirled the glass in front of his eyes, before slowly sipping it without stopping. When he finished, a stray drop trailed down his throat and into the collar of his shirt. He slammed the cup down, and raised his finger in the call for more. Kaz, frowned as she filled up yet another glass full.

"Love, I think this is enough." She said firmly.

"Kaz," he said leaning towards her, already a little drunkenly, "I pay your bills, and Seamus wouldn't be happy to hear his friend was denied business."

She shook her head, putting the bottle under the counter top, and turning to call Seamus out of the back room. Draco gave the back of her figure an incredulous look, and laughed.

It started out low in his throat, and soon became extremely loud, the empty bar filled with the sound. Soon, the laughing evolved to sobs, and when Seamus hurried out from the back room and his ledger book, he found the aristocratic and refined Draco Malfoy with his head in his hands. His sobs racked the large frame of his body and the room, and all Seamus could do was pat his friend on the back.

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A.N- Wow, was that a little intense. Maybe I should tone it down a little? Well, it was the most thought out chapter I have written.

Teaser: Draco feels Hermione's pain...more shopping with a fierce fashionista...and Hermione gets down and dirty!