~Chapter Twenty-Six~ Duty
As Hermione hurried across the atrium on Monday, she was hopeful, and her good mood was only further improved by the fact that her idea of getting into the Ministry early to beat the reporters had worked.
She and Draco had managed to have a thoroughly productive Sunday, and it had been nice to have a workmate who was equally as enthused about obscure branches of magic as she was. She had watched Draco covertly at times, unable to help but compare his genuine thirst for knowledge with Harry and Ron's total boredom of it in school, or to hold back speculations of just what their school career could have been like if they'd been friends instead of enemies.
Despite this, the research had been slow. They'd had to translate the texts out of the Old Aramaic they were written in, and the wizards of old hadn't been too keen on accessible literature. The terms were different, the explanations convoluted, and she and Draco had spent just as much time debating a particular word choice in translation, figuring out the implications and which was the intended one, as they had actually reading the material. Even so, it had felt like good forward momentum, and it was cheering to feel like they had actually achieved something concrete after the past few days.
The feeling of satisfaction and brightness had remained with her through to morning, and she had hummed while Crookshanks had wound his way around her ankles in the kitchen. Now, moving deeper into the Ministry, the good mood shaped her thoughts. Although she had been seconded to the Auror Office for the duration of the case, Hermione knew she would still have a few things to attend to in her own office. It was almost two full weeks since she had last been in, and if she didn't sort out the occasional thing when she could she knew would be playing catch-up with all-nighters for weeks. It was only sense to capitalise on her early arrival to ensure that her desk didn't become a slew of overdue tasks, especially with her sights set on the position of Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
She had only been at her desk for an hour or so when she began to hear a faint murmuring beyond her closed office door. The voices sounded excited more than anything else, and so she continued with her task, wrestling with a particularly difficult part of legislation that needed rewording to close any loopholes regarding the use of obliviation spells on Muggles. No one in Law Enforcement wanted to cede their rights to obliviating Muggles, no matter what case was made for the ethics of consent regarding the use of the spell. Even without that, in the interests of the International Statute of Secrecy it would be impossible to implement any kind of a ban, but Hermione would be damned if she didn't set in stone some severe guidelines to prevent the abuse of the spell.
A knock came at her door.
"Come in." Hermione remained bent over the parchment, scrawling out the wording she had managed to sort out as quickly as possible before she had to address whoever it was. "Just…one…second…" She dotted the last sentence and looked up. "Done. Oh."
"Delivery for you, Miss Granger."
"Um? Are you sure?" Hermione stared at the Security Wizard standing before her, a large bouquet of scarlet roses in his arms.
"Quite sure. They're from a Mr Draco Malfoy." To his credit, the Security Wizard did not so much as bat an eyelid.
"Ah. I see." Hermione scowled internally at the treacherous blush that warmed her cheeks. "Well, please, put them down. Er…I'll make some space." She waved her wand at the end of her desk, elongating it.
The Security Wizard leant forwards, putting them down. "Do you think you could make some more space?"
"What?"
"We've got another six to come in."
"Merlin's beard…"
"Um. Hermione? Are you there?"
"Yes. I'm here, Harry."
Harry waded into his office, doing his best not to knock over any of the many vases that had been stacked on the few available surfaces. It looked as though his office had been transformed into a holding room for the entirety of a florist's shop. "What in the name of Morgana is going on?"
"Draco." Hermione ground out.
"Ah." Harry closed the door behind him with difficulty. "I gather you're not pleased?"
Hermione stood up, appearing from a bushel of flowers, petals in her hair, her expression one of controlled annoyance. "No. I'm not. He's filled my office with them too, the prat! One would have been enough. It's been like sitting in a greenhouse! And worst of all, I can't get rid of them because I have to keep up appearances!"
"Yes, I see what you mean." Harry brushed off a few fallen petals and leaves from his chair and sat down.
"If he's not careful people will think this is a joke!"
"Uh, yes." Harry bit his tongue to withhold a chuckle. "I think they're more likely to think this is just what rich people do." He heard Hermione sigh from amongst her bower of petals.
"In that case I'm never dating a rich person for real."
Harry did laugh at that, and even Hermione released a small chuckle. Harry glanced around, one had scrubbing his head. "How about you send most of them home? We can figure out something to do with them, but then you can at least say you were so delighted you took the rest home to enjoy, and just leave one vase on your desk for appearances."
"Fantastic idea."
It was the work of a few seconds for Hermione to shrink down the bushels of flowers, leaving behind a cascade of falling petals like confetti at a wedding and leaves everywhere. She glanced around at the fallout. "I'm sorry it's messed up your office, Harry."
"It's fine. It's nice for there to be something normal in here instead of crime reports and cadavers."
Hermione snorted, then rotated on the spot, sweeping her wand around and clearing up the litter of plant matter. "There, all good. You can take some bunches home to Ginny if you like. Goodness knows I've got more than I know what to do with."
Harry chuckled. "I'll take some for Mrs Weasley. I think she might appreciate them more. Ginny likes romance, but she might be suspicious if I bring back a half dozen bunches of roses."
Hermione laughed, the last of her ill humour dispersing, settling herself back down and regarding her now visible desk with satisfaction. "Indeed."
Harry smiled, watching her carefully, pulling at a few of the papers in his in-tray with a poor attempt at nonchalance. He gave up, awkwardly collecting his hands together on his desk. "So…"
Hermione looked up, her eyebrows raised. "So?"
Harry flushed and coughed, rubbing the back of his head again. "I know we, uh, didn't exactly get a chance to talk about it after you got back. But. Um. Things are OK? …between you and Malfoy, I mean?" Harry felt the warmth suffusing his face, and Hermione's expression as she watched him struggle did not help at all. "What I mean, you know? Is, uh. Well. You know."
"Is that it?"
Harry sighed heavily. "Um. Yes, I think so."
Hermione stifled a laugh. "If what you're asking is, were things OK behind closed doors as well as in public, then yes. It all went rather well. He was…very professional." More so than me, that's for sure.
"Oh, good." Harry deflated with relief. He flushed a little again. "I'm glad it wasn't…you know. Too terrible."
Hermione smiled. "Harry, it's very sweet of you to check. But you don't need to worry. Draco and I…we have an understanding. When he's not making a nuisance of himself by sending entire gardens to my office, that is." A shadow of a scowl returned to her expression.
Harry laughed. He wouldn't tell Hermione, but he'd fretted a great deal of the time she had been away, concerned despite himself about just what he'd asked his friend to agree to. It had irritated Crookshanks in the evenings. "Just as well. I'm glad you two have managed to reach friendly terms. He really is much better than I ever would have thought he could be in school."
Hermione laughed properly at that. "Oh, yes! I remember you and your suspicions, following him around with the Marauder's Map!"
Harry coughed, tugging at his collar. "Ahem. Yes. Perhaps don't mention that to him."
Hermione shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Speaking of following people around. Have a look at this." She picked up a report on her desk, and tossed it across onto his, where it landed with a slap. "It came into my office this morning."
Harry turned it the right way around to read, brows knitting. "The anti-Pureblood groups?"
"Mmhm." Hermione waited patiently as Harry scanned through the report.
"So it's not them then." Harry let out a sigh. "Not that we really thought it was anymore."
"No, but it's good to know for certain."
Harry nodded.
"I've sent a few people off to try and find out more, on the quiet, just because we don't want to have to deal with two crises, Merlin forbid the two groups finding each other and facing off."
Harry's eyes widened at the idea, and he nodded fervently. "Yeah, no thanks. One problem at a time please."
Hermione nodded. "Hopefully it's something that can be quelled quickly. I've got Hathaway on the case, and he's always been effective and quiet. In some ways, Draco and I going public right now could be a benefit to that. It might dull some of the anti-Pureblood sentiment coming from Muggle-borns."
Harry nodded thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. "True. Although make sure your people look out for a reaction against you two. It could be just the thing to spark some kind of action and be used to rile up a response."
"Mm, I know."
There was a knock at the door, and before either could respond, it opened, Draco letting himself in.
Hermione frowned. "What are you doing here?"
"Now is that the way to greet your boyfriend?" Draco gave her a mock wounded look.
"Don't be silly, Draco. You can't come in for work, remember?" Hermione's expression was exasperated.
"I know. I'm not here for work. Well, mostly. I'm here for pleasure." He grinned.
Harry raised his eyebrows, as did Hermione.
"Oh yes? And what pleasure would that be?" She asked sternly.
Draco gave his best smile. "To take my wonderful girlfriend to lunch, of course."
Harry shot Hermione a 'he has a point' kind of expression. Hermione pretended to ignore it.
"And because of this." Draco pulled out a copy of the Witch Weekly from behind his back. His expression was carefully casual. "I didn't realise we had so much exercise on Sunday." He dropped the rolled magazine into Hermione's desk, where it unfurled.
Hermione frowned and sighed at the cryptic remark, then froze as she caught sight of the moving picture plastered across the cover. It was of her and Draco, but unlike any photograph the reporters had yet managed to capture. They were wrapped around one another, locked in a passionate kiss, and there wasn't a stitch of clothing between them. As the images moved, nothing too scandalous was revealed, but that was the slightest of saving graces.
"WHAT?!"
"Oh, that's the tame one," Draco helpfully supplied. "Turn to page three."
Hermione almost tore the magazine in half as she did so, hands shaking with fury. On pages three and four there was a rolling spread of images. Her and Draco on the carpet in front of her fireplace. In the kitchen. In the upstairs study. All of the photos clearly framed by the windows on the front of her house.
"Um. What's going on?"
Hermione barely heard Harry's confused plea, and when Draco spoke his words were fuzzy through the ringing in her ears.
"I think it safe to assume you wouldn't want to see, Potter. Suffice it to say, anyone in Wizarding Britain who takes Witch Weekly is now salivating over how adventurous Hermione and I are outside of the bedroom, and very thoroughly convinced that our relationship is legitimate. The pictures are certainly more risqué than I would have expected them to try and publish. I suppose on the only small plus side is that the most they can see is the top of my arse."
Harry's expression transformed into a mixture of shock and horror. "How?" He asked faintly.
"I. Am NEVER. Using. That. Spell. AGAIN!" Hermione tossed the magazine into her wastepaper bin and promptly set fire to it, the coloured pages with their moving images curling into ash.
The two men watched her somewhat nervously, Harry still confused although dawning dread was starting to overtake the emotion.
"It's certainly taken a few liberties," Draco murmured.
"Liberties?! LIBERTIES?! That's a fine way to put it!" Hermione's wand shot gold sparks from the end, catching the last few cinders in the bin. After the initial shock had faded, a wave of rage had rolled over her, not about the indignity of the spell, although that was infuriating, but the fact that the gossip mill had clearly seen nothing wrong with publishing such obviously private images.
Draco turned a careful glance on her. "I gather it wasn't your intention that the spell showed them that, then."
"No!"
Draco coughed delicately. "What was the spell meant to do, may I ask?"
Hermione scowled. "Show them what they most wanted to see," she muttered darkly.
"Ah."
Hermione raised her hand. "Don't say it! I've realised my mistake already."
Draco pressed his lips together with a nod.
"Um, Hermione?" Harry cleared his throat awkwardly in the huffy silence that had fallen. "Do you want the rest of the day off?"
Hermione sighed, dragging a hand over her face, then summoned a tired smile. "No, thank you, Harry. I don't want to let them think they've got to me. It's not meant to be like that, but still. I can guess what some of them would write, and from there it's a short step to them saying I'm ashamed of the relationship or some such nonsense. I'm much better staying at work."
Harry nodded.
Draco fought to keep a neutral expression on his face. Something in him had leapt at her declaration, and whilst he was sure she was simply thinking logically and practically for the case, he couldn't deny that part of him had been concerned that she would be repulsed by the photos. He had watched her reaction carefully, but there had been no trace of any such thing amongst the expected fury. Hermione turned back to Draco, tapping the tip of her wand against her lips. Whatever her reaction before, it was clear that she had mastered herself and was applying her mind to a solution. The transformation was astonishing.
"This needs to be handled."
"Mm, yes." Draco pressed his lips together. "It may be accidentally helpful for the purposes of our charade, but I think this is overstepping the mark."
"Overstepping?" Hermione's voice was faint with disbelief. "This is a total infringement of privacy! The fact that they think they can get away with this is disgusting!"
"Yes, of course it is." Draco's expression was perfectly serious.
"Well?" Hermione glared up at him.
Confusion and concern flowed into Draco's expression. "Well what?"
"You're the terrifying Draco Malfoy, my doting boyfriend. Go do something about it! This is what your reputation is good for. I'll be damned if I let Witch Weekly get away with this without so much as a peep!"
Draco grinned, a broad smirk spreading over his face with no small amount of evil intent behind it. "Oh it will be my pleasure." He gave a bow. "As you wish." He paused. "Does this mean no lunch date then?"
"No! If you want to give a display of our affection, this will do it."
Draco nodded, then paused in the act of leaving, glancing around the office. "Did the flowers not arrive?"
"They did." Hermione's scowl returned. "Don't do it again."
Draco gave a mock pout. "But people will expect it."
"They can expect something else then! They've been given more than enough with this ridiculous series of photographs!"
"That's true."
"I hope your mother doesn't take Witch Weekly," Hermione muttered darkly.
Draco blanched a little, but shook his head. "Do you know, I've never been so glad to say she doesn't. Though they'll probably find out about us soon enough."
Hermione's expression softened a little, a vision of Lucius's reaction in particular swimming before her mind's eye. It would not be pleasant for Draco. "Just do what you can. Please."
Draco met her gaze, his eyes gentle, and nodded.
Draco had to admit, he did rather enjoy the process of ferreting out and blasting the people responsible. Even though the case had been going for barely a fortnight, he had been practically chained to his desk before, and there was something refreshing about getting some legwork done. Physical activity was not generally part of his usual workday. Not to mention the satisfaction of playing up the protective boyfriend act. It was nice to use his reputation to protect someone for a good reason. Nicer still that the someone was Hermione. That part he tried not to think about too much.
The photos had come down to a couple of photographers, not attached to any magazine or at all well known, who had staked out Hermione's cottage on the off-chance. It had taken Draco longer to trace them than to intimidate them, and within minutes the copies still in their possession had been turned into ash. Harder had been tackling Witch Weekly itself.
Intimidation had only got him so far with the battle-axe of an editor-in-chief, and she had driven a hard bargain, eyes narrowed over the clove cigarettes she had smoked. Eventually he had agreed to an interview, only himself, done by one of her people in return for the recall and destruction of all copies of the issue with the photographs, including taking ownership of the originals and film still in the magazine's possession. She had watched him as he had set fire to them in a curling ball, blowing smoke rings, expression satisfied. It had given him the distinct feeling that he had been played.
Afterwards he had taken a few deep breaths on the steps, relieved to be in the fresh air of Diagon Alley, clearing the cigarette smoke from his lungs, and blinking hard. It had been a struggle to prevent his eyes from watering from the haze. A classic tactic.
He eyed up the jewellery shop on the other side of the street, straightening his suit cuffs and dusting ash from his sleeves, and idly considered popping in to get something for Hermione. He stopped thoughts of a diamond lariat necklace in their tracks. No, that might be a bit too far. Draco shook his head slightly at his own foolishness. It's a job. We're colleagues. It's a job. There's nothing in it. It's a job.
A beating of wings drew him out from his thoughts, and a sleek eagle owl fluttered down, landing on his shoulder, a letter clasped in its beak. He took the letter, and even before he could open it the owl had taken off.
The missive inside was short and to the point.
Draco, what in the name of Merlin's saggy left ballbag is going on? You and Granger? Was this what was going on last time we hung out? We need to talk, man.
-Blaise (you know, the poor bugger you sometimes call your friend)
Draco sighed. "Shit."
Within moments, Draco had apparated back home and was on the floor of his study, head in the fire, his face coming out in Blaise's house.
"Oi!"
The high-backed chair facing the desk in front of him turned around, and Blaise was there, his head out of sight. "Draco!"
"Get down closer, you moron. I can't see your face."
"That's a nice way to speak to a mate."
Draco snorted, but smirked as Blaise got up and knelt down. "You free to come over?"
Blaise's eyes widened. "Blimey. Never thought I'd get a response that fast. Yeah. I'll bring a bottle of my best Ogden's."
"Didn't know it was that important," Draco muttered. "I'll see you in a minute then."
By the time Draco had gotten up and dusted himself off, the faint chime of the downstairs floo had gone, and he could just hear the muffled sounds of Dilly greeting Blaise. He moved down the stairs at his usual pace, marshalling his thoughts and preparing an impassive expression for when he entered the sitting room.
"Man, am I glad to see you." Blaise was already busy at the cocktail cabinet with the bottle and two glasses, pouring out generous measures of the alcohol.
Draco had the grace to look abashed. "I know I haven't exactly been around lately."
"No kidding!" Blaise turned around and came over, handing a glass to Draco, and then dropped down onto the settee. "Care to explain?"
Draco eased himself down more carefully into one of the winged armchairs closer the fire, taking a sip of the firewhiskey before he shrugged. "You know how it gets."
"I mean about Granger."
"Ah." Draco restrained himself from running a hand through his hair. "Well, you've said it before about her, not that I ever noticed. We're evenly matched."
Blaise paused, then frowned. "Is that it?"
"What more do you want me to say? A heartfelt declaration of love?"
"No, that's not really your style. But cheating, Draco? That's not either." Blaise shot him a reproving look.
Draco froze, eyes wide, his mind spinning for a moment. The memory of the blonde at Philtre returned like a bludger slamming into his chest. His thoughts flew in every direction for a few seconds, lies and cover-up stories chasing one another through his head, each discarded after the last.
"She didn't use a potion on you, did she?" Blaise's tone had gentled, his expression concerned as he sat upright. "Say what you like, but it can happen to wizards too."
Draco blinked, the words coming to him through a fog, and he shook his head numbly.
Blaise relaxed with a sigh. "We'll that's something at any rate. Merlin, you had me worried for a few moments there."
"Sorry." Draco frowned, staring at the swirling amber liquid in his glass.
"Well…? Why cheat? From what it looks like you're not in an open relationship and whilst I'm perfectly prepared to think the papers are putting a very thick gloss on things, it can't be so bad you'd do that instead of just end things." Blaise eyed Draco intently, his own glass untouched.
Draco continued to watch the vortex of his drink as it faded, making up his mind, then glanced up. "Can I…have a moment? Before I give you an answer. I promise you will get an answer."
Blaise frowned, the concern creeping back into his expression. "Draco, mate…are you all right? You're acting proper weird."
Draco nodded firmly. "Yes. I'm fine. I just need to check something."
"Sure…knock yourself out."
"Right." Draco stood swiftly, casting about with his glass for a table distractedly, and then quickly strode out.
The moment the door shut behind him he ran for the front hall and up the stairs back to his study, practically flinging himself onto the rug in front of his study fire, glad he'd chosen one with a thick pile.
The handful of floo powder he dashed into the flames would have been enough to send a family of eight through, and the smell was acrid as he stuck his face into the green flames, shouting for the Ministry and Potter's office.
"Potter!"
There was a rattle as Harry jumped in his seat. "Malfoy?"
Potter's face appeared around the chair, curious and confused.
"What is it?"
Draco's frown did not relax. "I need permission to tell the truth to Blaise."
"What? Blaise?" Hermione's face appeared over the edge of Harry's desk, and together they moved away his chair to crouch down by the fire and Draco's incorporeal head.
Draco flushed, despite himself. "He, uh. He's seen the stuff in the papers about us. And he's asking."
"I still don't understand." Hermione's gaze was fixed on Draco's face, and the concern in her expression was too much for him to face. "Can't you bend the truth until we're done?"
"That's not it." He sucked in a heavy breath. "Do you remember, uh," he screwed up one eye, thinking hard, "when Krum was visiting," he struggled not to let his aggression seep into the name, "I had a heavy night out with Blaise?"
Harry and Hermione nodded.
"Well. You may remember…I slept with someone."
"I don't really see wh–" Harry began, but Hermione interrupted him.
"Oh! Oh, shit!" Her eyes flickered as she processed the implications, then shifted to Draco, concern filling her expression,
"Yeah." Draco nodded glumly. He felt like kicking himself. What must Granger be thinking of me?
"What?" Harry stared between the two.
"Zabini knows?" Hermione ignored Harry, her question directed to Draco.
Draco nodded again.
Hermione turned to Harry, her gaze serious. "If we're supposed to be so in love, why would Draco hook up with a random witch just before we went public? If the story gets out it will cause no end of trouble."
Harry's expression cleared, then fell. "Ah."
Hermione nodded. "Exactly."
Harry turned back to the fire. "Zabini is trustworthy as far as my experiences would indicate. Do you agree with that, Malfoy?"
"Yeah. I don't think Blaise would spill the story, but he knows something is up with me and he will sniff a rat. He's concerned, and he won't let it drop until he feels he's got the truth out of me. And as for the story, if that witch goes to the press I'll need someone to back me up, and Blaise is the best one for it. Although right now I'm not sure what to say that would dodge that."
"True." Harry nodded. "Well in that case I think we can give you leave to tell Zabini the truth. But no more than is absolutely necessary."
Draco nodded. "Thanks. I'd better go. He's waiting."
"Right."
Hermione nodded encouragingly to Draco's face, his concerned expression the last thing she saw before his image disappeared with a faint pop.
We're heading for some fun times!
Somehow I got stuck on this chapter for quite a while, but then out of the blue it just all came out. It's been edited several times, but I think it's finally where I wanted. The irony is that the main point of this chapter (aka that spell going wrong) is something that I've planned for aaaages. So it's really nice to get here!
Awkward!Harry, Anxious!Draco, Angry!Hermione.
I really wanted the focus of Hermione's anger to be on the fact that any photographs of that kind would be published, as opposed to personal mortification or something like that. Naturally, the fact that they're technically fake helps make the more personal aspect of them being an invasion of her privacy a little easier to handle, so that the focus can be on the outrageousness of the Witch Weekly editorial choices.
Another big thing for me was Blaise. I love the background Slytherins as they've been depicted in various fics (especially Blaise and Theo Nott), and Blaise is a character who I think has a lot of potential to be the flirtatious Casanova, but also a man who has zero toxic masculinity and is perfectly ready to embrace emotions and openly discuss problems.
I hope you enjoyed it!
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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