~Chapter Twenty-Four~ Public
They settled on their plan of attack that evening before going to bed. They would return together directly to the Ministry rather than being mobbed on one or either of their doorsteps. They had firecalled Harry at home to confirm, and he had agreed, saying that the papers were one step away from being an overturned ants' nest in terms of the turmoil they had created.
Rumours were flying every which way, and he himself had already been ambushed several times as he made his way in and out of the Ministry, bombarded with questions in an attempt to verify the truth of the speculated relationship. Kingsley was pleased with their progress. If nothing else they had at least provided a significant distraction from the growing fears surrounding the murders, and it seemed that even those who did not normally have much interest in gossip were now thoroughly invested in the outcome. Draco had been right that the pair of them getting together would hook the public interest like almost nothing else could.
Pansy and Rita had been conspicuous in their presence in the dining room during dinner, and Draco had managed to spot more than a few international reporters secreted around the room, ostensibly dining out at the hotel. Their booth had private, but not obscured, and Hermione was glad that the wizarding camera technology was still far behind that of the Muggle world. Even so, it was almost possible to hear the rapid scribbling of quills and pencils in lulls during the soft music, for a band had been brought in, filling the salon with a cruzy jazzy ambiance.
The next morning they packed up their things and Draco's house elf Dilly had come to transport their things back to their respective houses. Only then did they approach the fire.
Hermione brushed herself down, inexplicably nervous.
"It's going to be fine, Hermione." Draco reached out to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You look perfect."
They had chosen what they'd wear together the previous night to the sounds of Draco's charm at work again, hopeful that some of the reporters would bribe the staff. It had been difficult to concentrate on clothing with the sounds of their own voices reaching ecstasy in the background, and they both wordlessly agreed to ignore each other's flushed cheeks.
They had eschewed work robes and instead gone for what could passably be called holiday chic. Hermione had a rather nice cashmere sweater cape with a fluffy rolled neck in dove grey, which matched Draco's eyes rather well, and a fitted white dress in wool underneath. Draco had altered a straw sunhat that she had brought along, flattening out the brim and enlarging it, changing the pale yellow to black, so that it became something more of a fashion piece with an elegant white ribbon.
Even without Hermione having to say so, he had been aware of her nerves in facing up to a crowd of reporters, and the hat, whilst completely unnecessary for travel or the Ministry, would afford her a degree more privacy. They had done a dummy run of how it would be worn, Draco's hands gentle and cool as he wound his wand through Hermione's curls, slowly taming them until they were just smooth enough to twist into a low chignon, the hat balanced at an angle, shadowing half her face.
Hermione had been glad that they had both already blushing, the heat rising to her cheeks at the deftness of Draco's soft touch as he did her hair, but still only faintly visible in the low light of the bedroom when they went to look in the mirror. She had to admit, he had an eye for fashion, and her mind had wandered down the path of what Draco going through her whole wardrobe would result in.
That had been stamped on quickly.
For Draco they had opted for something fairly similar to his usual Muggle dress. A charcoal grey suit jacket, with darker trousers, and a polo that matched Hermione's sweater. Going in Muggle clothing into the Ministry had been the obvious choice. The scarlet lining of his suit jacket had felt a little overdone, but they knew that the press would lap it up the moment they caught the faintest glimpse of the obviously Gryffindor colour.
Hermione glanced up, biting her lip. "It's not the clothes. I think we chose well. It's just…" she flushed. "Well, we've been doing this performance without a conscious audience so far. But now we're going to be scrutinised from every angle. They'll be looking for anything amiss, and I…I don't want to slip up."
Draco paused, thinking. "I think that's understandable. But remember, Hermione. We've gotten this far. And by all accounts from Potter they're simply baying for more. I don't think many will be trying to trip us up – maybe Skeeter and Pans, but that's it. The rest just want all the juiciest gossip about the juiciest new wizarding couple."
Hermione nodded, breathing deeply. Then she smiled. "Thank you."
Draco allowed himself to smile back. "Here." He handed over the darkly tinted sunglasses he had found in her case the previous night. "It'll help disguise your expression. And if you ever think you can't hold up the fascade, just pretend to be overwhelmed with the emotions and lean against me for a breather. The hat will shield you." Then he was serious once more. "Are you ready?"
Hermione had barely a moment to register the thoughtful gesture, the words and the offer, taking the glasses. She sucked in a breath, putting them on. "As I'll ever be."
He put out his hand for hers, and she took it, together stepping into the fire.
As they exited the Ministry fireplace, the roar of the green flames did not seem to lessen. If anything it grew, in a rising wave, and the bright flare of the fire dulled, then began to repeat, over and over.
Draco and Hermione blinked rapidly, each trying to regain their senses in the wild rush of light and sound, and slowly the scene revealed itself to them. They were surrounded by a wall of reporters, the cameras clicking and flashing furiously, releasing great puffs of smoke as they did so. The questions rained down on them so thick and fast it became an indescribable babble, any one sentence impossible to distinguish amongst the furore.
Hermione felt herself draw into Draco's side for protection against the barrage, and his hand moved from holding hers to wrapped around her, holding her closer. She was vaguely aware of his other arm moving, the words of a spell spoken near her, and then suddenly Draco's voice boomed out above the tumult.
"GIVE US SPACE TO PASS. WE WILL ANSWER QUESTIONS AT THE GATES. REMAIN ORDERLY. IF OUR WISHES ARE NOT RESPECTED, WE WILL NOT ANSWER ANY QUESTIONS."
The hubbub dropped immediately, although the cameras continued to pop and flash, smoke rising up to cloud the brilliant peacock blue ceiling, and the reporters parted for them.
Draco muttered, "Quietus," then turned to Hermione. "Ready, my dear?"
Hermione smiled as they joined hands once more.
We've got this.
Yes.
They made their way, surrounded by their tensely waiting entourage towards the gates where the Ministry security wizards had already formed a line. In the arch under the gates, they stopped and turned to face the reporters, who had reformed their ring, notepads at the ready.
Draco cleared his throat, allowing the faintest of smirks to play around his lips. "Now. One at a time, please."
Several voices burst out at once, but a squat little wizard at the front got in first. "What is the exact nature of the relationship between yourself and Miss Granger?"
A hush fell immediately over the reporters as they waited to write down the answer.
Draco turned to Hermione, smiling. "Would you like to answer, or shall I?"
Hermione beamed, placing a hand on Draco's chest and leaning into him again, setting off another round of camera flashes. "You, darling."
Draco cleared his throat, turning back to the reporters. "As you can see, Hermione and I are very happily together. The, ahem, exact nature of our relationship I shall keep private," he and Hermione exchanged the unsubtle glances of a couple, secretive and smirking, another round of flashes going off, "but I am sure you can guess."
"How long have you been together?!" the next question rang out.
"Five months, going on six," Hermione replied, smiling dazzlingly at Draco again.
"How did it start?!"
Hermione and Draco exchanged glances once more.
"Well…" Hermione bit her lip, flushing and feeling ridiculous as she did so.
"Perhaps allow me." Draco took her hand.
Hermione smiled up at him, nodding.
"It may amuse you, but we were brought together by a mutual love of reading. In Flourish and Blotts to be precise."
A collective chuckle swept through the reporters.
Draco turned to Hermione, and smiled.
"And what prompted you to go public all of a sudden?!"
Draco's posture shifted slightly, his back straightening, and seriousness replaced the smiles of before. "As you all know, my father was recently released from Azkaban. We have been waiting for his return home so that he might be one of the first to know before we announced our relationship publicly. As you might imagine, being as well-known as we are, this has been a long six months, and we are quite thrilled to be able to finally do away with all the cloak and dagger."
There was a round of appreciative laughter, and Draco glanced down to Hermione with a smile as she affected a giggle, blushing as they met each other's eyes.
"This isn't a publicity stunt then?" The question came from Rita Skeeter.
Draco and Hermione had noticed her in the crowd as the reporters had reassembled, but had thus far ignored her.
Took her a while to get in on the action.
I know. I'll handle this.
Hermione smiled widely. "What a thing to say! I'm not sure exactly what we're meant to be advertising by this. Do you Draco?"
"Not at all, Hermione. Pureblood and Muggle-born relations, I would suppose. But I'm not sure where any particular benefit comes in from pretending to do that. Although, there is this…" he swooped in, landing a smacker of a kiss.
Whatever faint control had been holding the reporters back before was lost. Questions rained down on them from all sides along with the near constant flashes of the cameras, the smoke rising so thickly that in some places the crowd was obscured. But Draco and Hermione were deaf to them all.
What had begun as an amusement and a final touch to their story became something more personal and lingering. Hermione felt herself wish longingly that it could continue, that this could be real, that the case could just be vanished like spilled ink to let life return to a nicer new normal, the emotional part of her mind pushing back all the logic and explanations and reasoning that told her exactly why that was and could only ever be a wish.
For his part Draco was no less wistful. He could feel her acceptance as he had done the deeper they had fallen into their charade, and he allowed himself to pretend, just for a few blessed moments, that it was acceptance borne of willingness rather than simply a desire to see the case solved.
In the bubble between the pair of them, unbeknownst to one another, neither wished to stop.
Eventually, however, they had to come up for air, the sound raining down on them with the flashes.
The Ministry security wizards were holding the reporters back, and after giving a wave to the pack, they escaped quickly into the safety beyond the gates, the security wizards closing in behind them.
"Just a standard start to a Friday then," Draco whispered into Hermione's ear, very well aware that they could still be seen and photographed as they walked hand-in-hand to the lifts and ignoring the heat he could feel in his cheeks, the speeding in his heart.
Hermione laughed, her own cheeks flushed. "Don't be so quick to joke – I think this could well be the new normal for us until this case is closed."
"How delightful."
Hermione shot Draco a raised eyebrow, but said nothing.
It was short hours before their photographs were plastered all over the papers, the story rapidly spreading throughout Wizarding Britain. Harry congratulated them in the office after Hermione had passed on the unsettling discovery she had made during their time away, and after the press was awash with the story, they all went to see Kingsley.
"I believe we may need to set up a Portkey for Mr Malfoy to ensure he can get into the Ministry to continue his work on the case." Kingsley tapped his fingers thoughtfully against the edge of his desk. "His appearances here before will be put down to visits to you, Miss Granger, but even the reporters will notice now that you are spending the entire day here, and it is well known that Miss Granger is now on the case with Mr Potter."
"Can we do that, Minister?" Harry asked, wide eyed.
Kingsley nodded slowly. "A Portkey, although it has its risks, will pose less threat to Ministry security than connecting Mr Malfoy's house with the Floo. It will be more hassle, I'm afraid, but it is inevitable."
"There is another option." Draco said thoughtfully.
The others all turned to him.
Kingsley raised his eyebrows, expression curious. "Oh? Do enlighten us."
"Well, currently my greatest role is in research, and that I can do from home. Naturally it would be more convenient for me to be in the same office with Potter and Hermione, but at least for a few days, it might be best, whilst the press are still extremely focused on us. If access is set up, I can firecall into Potter's office without breaching the security restrictions on the Floo, and remain up to date in that manner. It means there's less risk to Ministry security, but I remain connected with what is going on."
Hermione and Harry exchanged glances, then looked towards Kingsley.
"Hm. Your idea has merits, Mr Malfoy. Perhaps we shall do as you say, to begin with at least. Should your presence in the Ministry be required, then we shall go ahead with the Portkeys. Mr Potter, Miss Granger – will this suit?"
Harry nodded. "It's not perfect, but it's not terrible either."
"A good compromise," Hermione added.
"Very well. What is the next stage of your plan then? Tomorrow will be a week from the last lot of murders. If we are to expect their usual schedule to progress, I hope you have a plan in mind to bring this performance to fruition."
Harry nodded, glancing towards Hermione and Draco. "We discussed it a little. Draco is going to leave the Ministry soon and head back home to make sure the press don't connect him with the case."
Kingsley nodded silently.
"Then, because tomorrow is a Saturday, they're going to be going out into public places, Wizarding and Muggle, to make sure they an easy target, but together for safety. We can't risk having any hit squads nearby, unfortunately, but Hermione has an emergency portkey, should it absolutely be required."
Hermione continued. "It seemed like an obvious choice for the Muggle locations would be something like a picnic in Hyde Park – there's enough space there that should a confrontation occur, there are plenty of places for the Muggles to run, which would be harder in a gallery or somewhere like Trafalgar Square."
Kingsley nodded again. "And for the Wizarding?"
Hermione glanced to Harry. "We considered Hogsmeade. There are no school trips from Hogwarts tomorrow, but the problem is that there's still the locals and all the houses. But then Diagon Alley presents the same risks."
Kingsley frowned, thinking for a few moments. "Go to Diagon Alley. The murderer has been London-based thus far, or thereabouts. Hogsmeade could be too far for them to notice you, and the further we keep them away from Hogwarts, the better."
Harry, Draco, and Hermione all nodded.
"Very well then. Good luck."
The three let themselves back out into the corridor, and after the door had shut they paused a moment.
"Hermione – there's something you should know."
Hermione turned to Harry with an expression of dread at his tone.
"Ron doesn't know yet."
Hermione's expression froze. "Oh god…I hadn't thought of that."
"Yeah." Harry made a face. "I did. Don't worry – Ginny is helping out. Ron and Isobel are completely taken up with the twins at the moment, so they don't have much headspace for anything else. Ginny is making sure the papers are…delayed. To them and to the Burrow. We've tipped off Arthur a little, just essentially saying its Ministry business, and he knows better than to pry. But you know the moment Mrs Weasley hears something, she'll be very curious. It's just lucky that she's been helping a lot with the twins."
Hermione let out a deep breath. "Thanks, Harry. This would have gotten so much harder if he got involved."
Harry nodded, running a hand through his hair, and shot Draco an apologetic look.
Draco shrugged. "I've got my parents to deal with at some point. Eventually. Weasley…or even all the Weasleys don't really compare to them."
Hermione shot Draco a commiserating look, but in front of Harry, Draco barely acknowledged it. She turned back to Harry. "I think we're going to have to put out a few fires in our personal lives because of this. But we're doing it for the right reasons. Ron will see that."
Harry sighed. "Better hope so. Let's get this Floo access sorted out."
Hermione had agreed to come over to Draco's on Saturday. His apartment was in central London, a rather new conversion of some old wizarding real estate, and it would be simple enough for them to walk to Hyde Park from there.
Draco had told Hermione not to worry about preparing the picnic, saying that Dilly would be more than happy to organise a suitably Muggle hamper. Hermione had been a little put out, hoping to have the picnic preparation as a distraction for the butterflies she now distinctly felt, but had not been able to find an argument. The only plus side was it meant she got a sleep in.
Even so, she woke up earlier than necessary. Crookshanks had been delighted to have her back, having been looked after by Ginny and Harry whilst she was away, and was purring on the pillow beside her head when she woke up, licking her forehead with his rough tongue.
He gave a morning yowl, getting up and running downstairs in anticipation of breakfast.
Hermione had felt distinctly envious as she watched him tuck into his food, unable to stomach more than a few mouthfuls of her porridge. At Monte Rosa she had only really mentally prepared herself for the pretence of their relationship whilst at the hotel, but now it was moving into the real world. Into her real life. And her emotions were getting harder to manage.
Compared to how she felt about potentially facing down with the killers later, that seemed a walk in the park.
She downed her tea, and walked determinedly upstairs, repeating the same mantra she had in the hotel.
I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. It's just a silly infatuation. I can do this. It's just two work colleagues. I can do this. I'm Hermione Fucking Granger. I can do this.
She showered, and whilst her hair was still soaking and wrapped in a towel, she turfed out her wardrobe onto her bed. Crookshanks had followed her upstairs after finishing his food, and now sat on chest at the foot of her bed, watching.
"Right, Crooks. What is going to be best?" Hermione looked from the pile of sundresses to the more sensible option of blouses and capris.
Crookshanks flicked his bottlebrush tail, and yawned widely.
"Dresses it is. You're completely right. It'll seem less like we're prepared for an attack." Hermione flicked her wand at the blouses and trousers, and they all flew back into her drawers and wardrobe as she spread out her dress options.
There was an old favourite in white cotton with a sweetheart neckline and bees, the hemline a strip of lawn and wildflowers. There was a pale blue silk handkerchief dress with a paisley print that she hardly ever wore, and then a halter neck in cotton with nautical stripes that she didn't really remember buying.
"What do you think then, Crooks?"
Crookshanks yowled, got up, and stalked across the bed, sniffing and investigating the different dresses.
Hermione watched as he moved between the dresses multiple times, pausing on occasion at the halter neck, then returning to the bee dress.
Eventually he stopped, looked up at her, but was silent, his always grumpy face still grumpier.
"Well that's not helpful." Hermione tutted, frowning down at the choice. "What if…I did a Draco?" She tapped her wand thoughtfully against her palm, biting her lower lip as she thought, frowning. "Here goes!"
She flicked her wand at the halter neck. The nautical stripes vanished, leaving the dress a plain white. She gave her wand another flick, and this time a warm minty green crept across the dress.
Crookshanks swished his tail.
"I know, it's missing something." Hermione frowned, straightening the towel on her head as it wobbled with her movement. "How about…this?" She twisted her wand dextrously, and small daisies appeared across the fabric. "A bit more…" Darker green tendrils twisted between the daisies, connecting some but not all.
Hermione glanced up at Crookshanks.
"What do you think now?"
Crookshanks yowled, and sat on the dress.
Hermione grinned. "Up then, let's see how it looks!"
So let's start by saying that J.K. Rowling has really missed the mark with her latest big thing. I don't really want to go into it too much here, but I want to reaffirm for anyone who has felt hurt by her words and beliefs that you are seen, you are valid, and I hope that the real message in the Harry Potter books - that love triumphs over all - is one you can still take away from the books. Happy Pride 2020.
Now to the chapter.
I really enjoyed writing the press meet scene. It's something I've had in my head for ages, so it was kind of weird to finally write it. I always saw it as another moment when Draco gets to step up and handle something that Hermione is less comfortable with, and just in general showing a bit of maturity. And, obviously also flirting.
We're really now at the point where their feelings are only going to get stronger, and for both of them that's really the big new element in the case. I think it's safe to say that the slow burn has begun to smoulder properly now.
I hope you enjoyed it, and that you're all continuing to stay safe with the coronavirus ongoing, especially if you're going out to join the BLM protests.
Please do review and/or favourite :) Tell me what you like or don't like :) Questions and speculations are always welcome :D As is incomprehensible flailing if that's what you go in for :)
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