A/N: Hello, hellooooo… yeah, I haven't updated in forever… so sorry if you catch any inconsistencies. I also had two versions of this story… and decided I would stick with the riskier, more elongated version. Yes, DRACO FINALLY MAKES HIS APPEARANCE in this chapter, just as promised. I really enjoyed writing this chapter even though I went over my deadline of when I planned to finish it due to a writer's block… I had handwritten the end as well as middle parts of this chapter so I got a writer's block trying to connect some spots. Hopefully it'll still flow. Well, I love you all, please read and review! As usual, thanks to my Beta (Glenyce) and Contraveritas… whom both beta and fanfic archive had inspired me to write this chappie!
One day and five chocolate bars later, Hermione found herself locking her office with spell reinforcements and sending final goodbyes off to close Auror-mates. She left a "Get well soon" card for the two injured house elves from her "incident" with her hair, and gave an especially long hug to Neville. She was not looking forward to the trip at all, and it didn't help that all of the females in the Auror quarters (and albeit probably the whole Ministry if they knew her op) looked at her with envy as she rolled her cart with suitcases down the hall, Lavender included.
"Don't worry, they're just jealous you're getting paid to sleep with one of the sexiest wizards alive."
"Drop it, Lavender!"
"I'd do it for free, but-"
"Then you could do the mission." Hermione rolled her eyes as she made a turn into the upper corridors of the Magical Law Enforcement level, Lavender's klick-klack of her heels following closely behind.
"I'd rather you do it, 'Mione. I, along with everyone else who knows about the mission, are placing bets on how long it'll take until you bag him. Besides, Harry and I are thinking that 'Lyn' is a beautiful name for the baby…"
"You've GOT to be kidding me."
"No! But on another matter, Ron's told me you're a minx in the bed."
Hermione nearly crashed her cart into an upcoming wall.
"Where in the bloody hell did he get that from?"
"Confidential, 'Mione," Lavender said with a smile, and she lead her away from the wall she almost crashed against. "And even if you weren't a wild dominatrix," Hermione spat her coffee out in a messy rush as Lavender continued, "Draco is a sex fiend. I was watching a video that Harry uploaded from the hotel's Internet for me and Pansy to view."
"Harry downloaded porn?" her coffee mug careened onto the flood after the coffee Hermione had originally coughed out.
"No, he uploaded it," Lavender performed a scourgify on the ruined coffee as she went on, "I remember because Pansy and I had a wild time making puns on how we'd 'up-load' Draco any day-"
"Thanks for cleaning," started Hermione, but when Lavender's words registered in her mind, her gratitude was short-lived, "There's wizard porn on the net?"
"I don't know how it works, Hermione! Basically, Pansy and I watched the lot yesterday. We were on the phone, and Harry owled me a disc with Draco's skills to put on my laptop… and we made comments on, hm," Lavender's cheeks pinkened noticeably, "how acrobatic, Draco is."
"He can't be that good!" For God's sake he was making Lavender, who Hermione was sure tried every trick in the book next to Pansy, blush just thinking about it.
"Yes. The girls were staring at you today because they realized what you get to experience. I showed them the video."
Hermione face flushed. "Shut up."
Lavender smiled genuinely and whispered, "I put a video camera in the shoe suitcase."
"I'm not videoing anything."
Lavender just laughed, and after a few turns they entered an elevator at the end of the hall. "Okay well, just make sure you have sex in at least two months. I'd die if the Creevey brothers win another bet."
"They're in it too?" Hermione yelled.
"Stop acting so surprised about everything!" Lavender said in exasperation, "Anyway the Creeveys wanted to make sure that you have everything."
The doors closed, and only the flapping of the flying notes above them was heard as they descended.
"If they mean wand and my tour guide-"
"No, they meant necessities." Lavender handed Hermione a ring- it was silver with gold plating its edges. She looked pointedly at Hermione, and Hermione pocketed the accessory in the inner pocket near her wand without question.
"How long do I have?"
"About 12 hours before self-destruct."
Hermione nodded as they stopped and the elevator doors opened to the main Floo Network of the Ministry, many fireplaces spitting out clients and workers left and right. Some were bustling and in a hurry, others chatting, and some dusting themselves off. It was busy as usual. Hermione and Lavender walked to the front of a particular dusty fireplace which seemed to have not been in use for ages, and even the warning signs looked faded and old with the words "Caution: unstable transport, use only under Ministry supervision" and a sign next to that saying: "Out of Order" complete with a skull and crossbones. They ignored these signs and walked into the fireplace, paying no heed to the wall they walked headlong into… or more like through.
The wall of the old fireplace turned out to be a magicked eye trick much like the one on Platform 9¾… except the room this wall led to was extremely discreet. The room was about as large as the one both Hermione and Lavender just left, but in lieu of fireplaces, sucking vortexes of colorful warp holes populated the walls on either side, seemingly reminisce to Portkey transport except more forbidding. There were only two fireplaces in the room, which they started to approach slowly.
"You know, I don't recall the timewarps having no destination," said Lavender mildly, drawing attention to the blank placards above each twisting abyss.
"This would be my third time in here, and as far as I'm concerned, I only know what lies behind one timewarp." Hermione gestured to a purple vibrating nether to her left. "But supposedly, these all change destination in a constant for 'security measures.'" Hermione smiled and lowered her voice even though no one was around to hear them, "Although frankly, I just don't think the Ministry knows how to control these things."
"The Ministry doesn't know bloody shit. Why do you think they dedicated a department to it?" Lavender said with a smirk.
Hermione could barely stifle a giggle to Lavender's reference to the Department of Mysteries… this room being the only one Aurors officially used to navigate from that department.
They stopped in front of a very large fireplace that would force one to wonder: what exactly did the Ministry transport here?
Lavender smiled warily and said with a sigh, "Of all fireplaces I've entered and exited, this one by far is the most nerve-wracking one. Remember the ring," she added as an afterthought.
"Honestly, I can't say I'm looking forward to this 'joy-ride' either," she pulled out a seemingly empty pouch from her pocket, and emptied it's contents onto her palm- two singular specks of green glowing dust landed on her hand. Hermione turned to Lavender, "Send Harry my regards… and Pansy too I suppose. You're flying back the Muggle way, right?"
"Yes, yes, my flight's in about two hours and I'm yet to check-in. Hurry, don't want the green floo chewing off your arm!" said Lavender jokingly, although both knew that joke wasn't far from the truth. Hermione gave Lavender a rushed hug and goodbye with a kiss on each cheek, before carting herself and suitcases under the ornate fireplace, and then almost as instantly as she stepped foot on its dust floor, she was engulfed in green flame.
"Bon voyage… and good luck," whispered Lavender sincerely to the empty fireplace.
Hermione always rushed into wizard transport and used them as quickly as possible because she realized only last year that no matter how long she's been part of the wizarding world, there would be no chance she would get used to their transportation methods. Everyone got used to it, except Hermione, who still preferred Muggle ways to get places if possible. She got used to the idea that if she just surprised herself by not giving her mind time to register that she'd go through another uncomfortable trip into fireplaces, Portkeys, Knight Buses, and Apparation- she could handle the swirly feeling all over her body. But this fireplace was no ordinary fireplace. As if to make up for not being strictly interconnected with every other fireplace, and could drop off in almost any destination, this one HURT. And not just throbbing hurt, it was more like the fireplace was pulling you inside out from the naval. And more, the transport wasn't five seconds like the rest- this one was a full blown minute. One wouldn't think that a minute was long, but if they were in a place where excruciating pain grated into the body relentlessly like a Cruciatus being cast over and over, it would feel like eternity.
She had almost forgot why all Aurors avoided missions that required transport through the "Ornate" as they all called the huge fireplace, and as she was bashed side to side and her thoughts sped in reverse with pulsating nausea, she regretted wanting to be reminded.
She opened her eyes to a whirlwind of speeding color, flashing by her so fast it was more blur, her hair whipping about her face in a torrent of wind. Hermione looked up, and saw she was speeding to her destination, still a ways off. The Ornate always made you feel like you entered some weird psychedelic dream, all her suitcases were still neatly in their cart, but Hermione was thrashed against unseen forces, as if she was squeezed through that thick tube associated with Apparating, and then forced rudely out. Every sense of her body was heightened, her touch made every miniscule bump against her cart seem like a stab against her hip, her eyes caught every flailing color as it passed her by, her mouth dry and bitter tasting, the scent of suffocation spiraling around her, and in her ears, she was acutely aware there was someone screaming faintly a ways away.
"Would you shut up?" rasped an old lady, a cloak tightly about her shoulders, her expression grim and walking stick held high as if to hit Hermione if she wouldn't take heed of her advice.
With a start Hermione opened her eyes that she didn't realize were closed, and noticed she was in the middle of dingy London, in the backdrop of the oldest and least sanitary subway she'd ever seen. Hermione was kneeling with her hands over her ears, her voice dying in her throat when she realized she was the one she heard screaming earlier in the fireplace transport. She got up, a bit shaky, but all the pain she originally felt was gone, her suitcases still in their neat pile, but this time without the cart.
"S-sorry," whispered Hermione, as she slowly started to rearrange herself.
"Good riddance, and they say I'm insane," muttered the old woman, and she turned back to reading the old peeling yellowed pages of her book, following words with a gnarled and grimy finger.
There were barely any other people in the station, save for the old lady and herself, but everyone else looked uniquely like they were quite used to being looked down on, and couldn't care less. They all seemed to be in need of a bath, and gave Hermione the impression that they've been through a lot more than anyone else in the high middle-class society she was brought up in would care to notice. She looked very out of place with her cleanly pressed robes, and was glad she had them on over her outfit that Parvati and Lavender picked out earlier. No one seemed to care for her presence though.
Just then a grating sound of a train squealing on old rusted train tracks made itself known, and within a few moments a subway that looked to have been in use since subways were first invented made it's tired stop in front of them- graffiti and fading made the words ard's Express hard to read on the side of the subway that looked to have been long past since it's glory days. The old woman got up with much effort, and a few others got up as well, with a hastened addition to their step, leaving the station even emptier than before.
A handsome man with a cracking leather jacket and jeans with more than one hole in it, looked out at Hermione from one of the subway's entrances as he held onto a pole used to steady passengers,
"'Ey, yer not comin' in?"
"I'm waiting for another train," Hermione replied easily.
He grinned at her, and swung out effortlessly, before striding over to her and whispering, "'Tis the only train comin', Love," he pushed her gently into the subway before she could protest, and he followed in after her, the doors sliding to a close in a silent hiss that seemed to be too advanced for it.
"My suitcases-" she said in a rush, realizing they were still out in the station.
"Are already aboard, Sweetheart. Now why don't you sit down and make yerself comfy, eh?" His accent was weird- it certainly wasn't from any British descent she was familiar with, although the twang sounded similar just harsher.
"What… but…" she started again, then realized the subway started moving.
"Don't worry. Just sit, and enjoy…" he laughed mildly, "It doesn't take a serviceman like me to know yer new to the Wizard's Express."
"W-Wizard's Express?"
"Indeed. Din't you read the name outside?"
"Yes… it said Ard's Express…." Then with a start she grasped that the words were faded, so "Wiz" must've been scraped off from her vision at the time.
He nodded with a knowing smile as if he knew what she was thinking, and gestured her to sit again, and this time Hermione, dumbfounded, walked down the aisle. She sat on the cleanest seat she could find, which, to her surprise, was extremely comfortable even against the grimy look it sported. Hermione noticed that this whole train must've been bewitched because as soon as the doors closed, the whole inside of the train started transforming to a very beautiful interior, with red velvet seats and 16th century décor. Everyone around her seemed to be oblivious to the change- apparently she was the only one aboard who didn't ride Wizard's Express often. The old woman who scowled at her earlier was sitting two seats in front of her, and Hermione could just make out the moving photographs in the book she was reading, and felt a wave of relief wash through her that she was in the company of people familiar with magic. With a start, she remembered Ginny had given her a post card from Hagrid a while back, and she hadn't even read it. She fished into her cloak, and pulled out a postcard with bent edges, and turned it over:
Helo Hermione! I'm in Hawaii right now, and havig a great time. Send everyone my regards and I'll come and vist you all son.
She smiled. Trust Hagrid to proofread his letters...
Hermione started to place the postcard back into a cloak pocket, when her hand hit something cold and metallic. The ring. She looked up to call the attendant, and to her surprise, the man that had ushered her in just moments before, now chauffeured in a red vest that matched the seats with black slacks. He came briskly, and within two short strides he was by her side with a smile.
"Yes'm?"
"Oh, I was wondering where the err… restroom was?"
"Four rows behind you, the cabin to your left," he dictated, using his arms to gesture directions.
"All right."
"Anything else?"
"Oh… when is the next stop?"
He smiled briefly and replied, "Approximately one hour, Miss. We'll be passing through the English Channel as of late."
"Thank you, sir."
The man nodded, and then he turned on his heel and stalked to the opposite direction. Hermione got up swiftly, counted four rows and turned left before pushing herself into the small room, which hadn't failed to be as lavish as the rest of the subway. She tried the bathroom door with her foot to make sure it stayed closed before doing a silencio around the room- assuring that she was in as private a place she should be before slipping on the ring. Instantly, the ring started to vibrate, and an ominous voice filled the bathroom,
Good day, Agent Granger. I trust you found the Wizard's Express without much effort? Ah well- enough small talk. You are to get off at the Le Havre station, which, would be the first stop. Enclosed in your left breast pocket Agent Brown has placed a Portkey that will transport you directly to Paris, careful not to touch it until you are in the Le Havre station or disastrous effects will occur… this Portkey is one-use only and will activate as soon as it touches your hands. From Paris, a woman by the name of Lillian Delion will escort you to a Muggle method of transport which I've heard is something you don't mind- a car. You'll be traveling to Orléans, where you'll be promptly blindfolded by your escort. Do not panic, this is customary precaution so that the whereabouts of Beauxbatons' secondary entrance remains secret, and when the blindfold is removed, you'll be in front of a fireplace and offered a pinch of floo- just enough to get you to Beauxbatons' secret entrance. Madame Delion will give you the words to deliver you safely from this fireplace to the academy grounds. You'll be pleased to know your bags will be waiting for you in your room. Please be aware that upon your arrival, if all goes as planned, you will have approximately two hours before the Opening Ceremonies of your tour at the Beauxbaton's Dining Chamber. Everything else you need to know will be in your tour guide.À votre santé!
The voice faded, along with the ring from her finger. Hermione grinned, it never stopped amazing her how very inventive her department was one delivering top secret information. She slid out from the restroom after removing the spell she cast on it, and resumed sitting on her seat, a little tired from the past few days. Within a few seconds, she was fast asleep.
It was night by the time Hermione landed on Beauxbatons grounds. The trip had been uneventful, and thankfully, everything went smoothly. Hermione dusted off her robes and pulled her cloak tighter around herself as the door to the homely cabin that housed the fireplace opened, welcoming a dusty wind.
"You must be Miz Granger," said the small woman in the doorway.
"I could go by that name- yes," she replied.
The small woman scarcely reached to Hermione's chin and that said a lot considering Hermione was 5'3. She wore rich blue robes that spoke volumes about her lineage and school she was representing. Her thick French accent cut briskly through the cold air.
"I'm ze caretaker of ze Beauxbatons Academy. I trust you found zeece place wih-zout much trouble, yes?" She didn't wait for Hermione's retort, "Let's get you to ze palace, oui?" And she turned around and made her way to a carriage of ancient but beautiful wood- engravings of the Beauxbatons crest embedded themselves on the regal doors. There was a single white horse that was to draw the carriage to Beauxbatons- the color of the horse was so pure it seemed to glow within contrast against the almost-evening skyline. Hermione was careful to note that they were near a large body of water, possibly the Atlantic Ocean or the Mediterranean Sea, and that off in the distance she could barely make out the small outlines of a city or a very large building.
"Miz Granger," said the French woman crisply, "If you may" - she was gesturing for her to sit in the carriage - "we must get you settled in your room so you may get..uh… what is ze word… dressed. You are coming to ze Opening Ceremonies, are you not? We would appreciate everyone'z attendance."
"Oh, right," Hermione walked into the carriage before the woman could dictate anything else, "France is very beautiful," she added, hoping to lighten the caretaker's mood.
"Feh, you are from England, everything iz beautiful compared to ze dirt of ze U.K."
Hermione scowled as the woman jumped in, and the door shut securely after her. Seeing there was plenty of room, Hermione got up and walked to the other side of the carriage- as far as she could get from the woman without being considered rude. As soon as she was seated, the carriage lurched forward, and she felt the carriage seem to soar up into the sky. Elated by the feeling of flight, she poked her head out of the window, to see if the horse had grown wings. To her surprise, the horse seemed to just be running at a very fast pace on an unseen path, even though they were clearly above land… or… water. Hermione looked down with amazement at how high they were, and then glanced back at the… horse? The creature pulling the carriage looked like it was starting to grow gills and a long snout, its body forming into something upright and ridged. A terse voice forced her out of her reverie.
"Miz, I advize you to keep your head indoorz at zeece time. Or ze effects will be… rather… mind-blowing."
Not liking the tone in her voice, she pulled her head half-heartedly back into the carriage right before the carriage took a sudden dive.
"AH!" Hermione screamed in surprise, and before she knew it, there was a loud splash, and the carriage had submerged itself into the water.
Three hours later, Hermione was seated comfortably on what looked to be an ice sculpture of a merman. It was huge and impressive, having the pose of a mercreature about to strike his spear into the next table over, and Hermione sat cross-legged on its tail that shaped itself into a seat. Beauxbatons really knew how to impress- the current theme of the Dining Chamber (which, Hermione noted, was equivalent to Hogwarts' Great Hall) seemed to be a tribute to all mythic underwater creatures. That suited it.
Hermione was very surprised to find Beauxbatons was located deep under the sea. The horse that previously had drawn the carriage had turned into what the caretaker assured her was a seahorse. The window that she had stuck her head out of magically locked the water out, even though Hermione found she was able to skim the fast flowing water with her fingertips if she pleased. Her room was the highest tower, and it was amazing looking out into the view of the crystal clear sea. There was some kind of bubble force field around the palace, keeping all water out at a certain perimeter, so there was plenty of room for the students to practice flying lessons while not being in contact with aerospace. Gardens of plants she never imagined grew from the well fertilized grounds, and she was sure if Neville, who had specialized in Herbology, was here he'd be crying in joy.
The Dining Chamber was a tad smaller than the Hogwart's Great Hall, but that didn't make it any less intimidating. Grand ice sculptures, that the staff of Beauxbatons were pleased to point out were created by their students, sparked with the light reflections from the majestic chandeliers from the high castle ceiling. Hogwarts' homey feel was far away, this place was everything orderly, beautiful, and instead of magicked ceilings, it was replaced with paintings that looked Michaelangelo-inspired.
Everyone was dressed in formal- some wearing suits, and evening gowns, others preferring heavily embroided dress robes. Hermione inwardly thought this must've been how the grand balls looked in the 16th century, where princes courted their lady. It was then, that among the small groups in the moderately crowded room, next to the far right wall, near a man of slight posture who was carrying a platter of hor'devours… and the wine fountain glistening prettily next to him-
Draco Malfoy.
He held a wine glass leisurely between his left index and middle finger, leaning casually on the wall, and when it comes to casual, Malfoys had that natural grace that could effortlessly place them centerfold on a "Top 50's sexiest" had a photographer been watching. He donned a black suit done uniquely with silver lining, so it brought out the silver dress robe look but at the same time the suit framed his figure. Hermione knew instantly it had been custom made, maybe for just this night. The dwarfish man near Malfoy (Draco, Hermione inwardly corrected herself), had approached him gingerly and offered whatever was on the platter he held, and Draco, with smooth calmness gave a small cock of his head, clearly indicating a negative response. The dismissed Beauxbaton servant bowed deeply before moving on.
Only Draco could pull off making a rejection graceful. He was looking at a nearby sculpture with a placid expression, a woman in her early thirties enthusiastically describing the sculpture to him, and although it didn't seem like it, Hermione knew he could care less.
His gaze shifted from the sculpture and danced among the various groups before settling on Hermione for the first time. Eyes locked- chocolate brown meeting silver gray. They stood that way for some time, drinking one another in and renewing as well as reassessing old, sour times in their heads. Hermione felt hot in her body fitting dress Parvati suggested she wear for formals: it suddenly felt too short (only at midthigh) under his piercing gaze, the neckline felt too low with Lavender's impeccable taste for plunging rounded necklines so the tops of her breasts were bare for all to see. Hermione wished for dress robes, and maybe some flats, stilettos were starting to put a stress on her toes and hurt her ankles even through all the training she went through to walk in them.
It's just you and me, something whispered in her head.
"I believe we have met before," said Draco in his low, sultry voice. Hermione hadn't even notice his walk over to her. Not good. Not good at all.
Hermione looked up at him as if noticing him for the first time even though both knew this was not the case. He looked back down at her and once more they had a testimony of silence, searching without touching, and the swing of nostalgia running between them. It was almost like he was awaiting her reply.
'You're supposed to approach him first, not the other way around. This is all wrong.'
A few seconds passed.
'Answer him. Say something. Anything!'
A minute. Just starring.
'Come on!'
For the first time, Hermione was speechless, and it was way too late to improvise her rehearsed conversation she practiced earlier in her room as she got dressed. Draco's lips tightened into a grim line that looked to be a smile, it was hard to tell when you couldn't think.
"Wine?" asked Draco languidly as if nothing was awkward at all and they were old comrades just catching up on things.
Hermione nodded dumbly.
He gestured a servant over with his free right forefinger and poured her a glass of wine himself before dismissing him.
Hermione just watched.
After she nearly downed the whole glass in a very unlady-like manner she managed a choked, "Throat was dry," as if it would compensate for her previous silence. Draco merely nodded.
Hermione licked her lips and took a deep breath and perhaps start a conversation when Draco interrupted her,
"What are you doing now?"
"Um, drinking wine, I mean I was-"
"I meant, in life."
Of course. Draco always was an intimidating figure, but it never dawned on Hermione until now because she never wanted to be his friend before. Hermione licked her lips again. Very bad habit she was developing.
Hermione was about to say, "A professor at Hogwarts" like she had planned, but the words got stuck in her throat. She was going to say she's working overseas and getting her masters in the states, but that didn't sound right. So she settled for a more cautious approach,
"I'm not quite sure what you mean."
"Are you working?" he asked.
"Should I be?"
Draco wrinkled his eyebrows delicately at the center of his forehead,
"You don't have kids," he said not as a question, but more as a statement.
"Neither do you," Hermione replied. 'Too quick,' she chided herself, 'Slow down.'
He raised his wine glass to hide his smirk as he sipped on its rim. Hermione amused him and she wasn't so sure that was good thing. Draco flicked a stray hair that fallen across his forehead out of his eyes expertly, before giving her another once over and letting another moment pass. In that moment, perspiration had gathered somewhere on Hermione's back because she felt a drop of sweat make its way down her spine, and she rolled her shoulder back once to maintain a grip on herself.
"Have you been reading the Daily Prophet?" asked Draco curtly.
"Fudge got married."
"I mean the World News. The cover is hardly ever considered important, nowadays." Draco gave another small shake of his head to scatter the freefalling bands. Just then a pretty woman, scarcely the age of twenty walked over to them and addressed Draco,
"Ah, Draco Darling!"
"Viera, my secretary," said Draco, introducing the young woman as if she had never spoken.
"A pleasure," Hermione replied, firmly shaking Viera's hand. Viera didn't have much of a grip.
Viera turned back to Draco again,
"You have a meeting at three. I'm sorry I couldn't get a hold of you sooner and hope it isn't an inconvenience- How's the deal coming, Draco?"
Draco gave a small sideways glance at Hermione before replying to Viera,
"I have an appointment at three, cancel the meeting." Then he looked back at Hermione and said, "The Ministry's falling apart, they've already lost control of Azkaban." Draco was finally cutting to the chase.
Hermione blinked and said with a grim smile, "I never knew you as one to small talk."
Draco gave a slight bow, barely notable had you been standing five feet away.
"The Ministry's hiring more than ever, I heard," perked Viera. "Employment is way up this y-"
"Viera, get this young woman some more wine, please."
Draco gracefully lifted the glass out of Hermione's hand.
"Okay."
Draco watched her leave and then his attention focused back on Hermione.
"What do you need, Draco?" asked Hermione, letting some of her impatience slip into her words.
Draco hardly noticed the change in which she addressed him- either that or he paid no heed to it. He leaned in closer to her ear, so close she could smell his exquisite cologne reverberating off of him, coupled with the wine on his breath. He always smelt expensive.
"I could care less about what your profession is, but I know you are connected to the Ministry whether you know it or not. You're a vital piece of information for them, if you hadn't known that already, but like all data, when it becomes outdated, it is discarded."
Hermione was careful to keep her expression as guarded as possible, unsure of what he was trying to tell her, "What are you suggesting?"
She felt Draco breathe in deeply in his slow, no rushing way before continuing,
"I'm suggesting that you are a key. A code. To what, I'm not sure, but whatever it is, I'm to stop you from giving that code out. I could kill," he lowered his voice further, his words now mere vibrations barely coherent, "you if I liked, but blood is such a mess to clean and fortunately for you, I'm not fond of cleaning."
"So what are you doing to do?"
"I have many thoughts, but I think you'd prefer keeping this conversation and that 'code' a little secret. You're intelligent, do the math. Wherever you go, I will find you."
"I can hardly wait."
He stepped back and gave a slight inclination of his head in his calm composure and took out a hand, "Ms. Granger."
Hermione shook his hand firmly, "Mr. Malfoy."
They locked eyes, and Malfoy gave a graceful sneer, "Pleasure seeing you again."
It was the first time, Hermione realized, she touched Malfoy without flinching. His skin felt like silk. Expensive silk.
A/N: Hey! Thanks for reading this far. Unfortunately… and my beta doesn't know this either (I wrote this author's note after I sent her a copy of Chapter 5: Expensive Silk to beta), I'm no longer continuing "A Call." That's right… I'm retiring the story. I'm sorry, it's just that the chapters are coming in so slow, and I barely have time to continue it anymore unless you guys feel like waiting for my school breaks for me to work on it. Well, either way, please put feedback on this chapter. I really enjoyed writing this story, and I appreciate the love and support! I'm going to try one-shots more, so look out for those! Dramione for life. Keep reading!
-yoshi09
