Chapter 7 - Diagon Alley

It occurred to Hermione, once or twice through her planned deception, that she ought to feel more guilty at what she was about to do and how she was going to go about doing it, but her sense of duty far overrode her sense of friendship and left her mind crystal clear and calm instead of troubled.

Since going to Diagon Alley at night would be useless, she got in a few hours of sleep before morning. Just before the usual alarm went off to wake up Ron and bring Harry back into the tent from guard duty though, she had rearranged some of her clothes and pillows on her bed to make it look as though she was still sleeping—a pathetic cover-up at best, but it only needed to last for the two or so minutes it took her to apparate away from the tent so that Harry and Ron couldn't follow her (she couldn't actually apparate from inside the tent, as it was charmed against allowing that sort of transport, and besides which existed partly within a space outside of the literal exterior)—and then left them a note to read explaining what she would be doing.

In the time it took them to 1) figure out that she was gone, 2) read her note, and 3) pack up since they couldn't risk leaving their things behind and therefore having nowhere to return to lest they be discovered, Hermione would already be in Diagon Alley and therefore they couldn't follow her. She had her disguise all planned out and was even throwing in a few simple yet effective spells to get her through everything, though of course her wand would always be at the ready. Obvious, she had nothing as elaborate as Polyjuice Potion on her, otherwise she would use it, but sometimes a simple wart jinx or even a hair colour changing spell could be effective. She'd have to concentrate hard to keep it all in place, but if she could get through her business quickly, Hermione felt sure that she could handle it.

The hardest part would be explaining everything once she got back, she hoped.

Double-checking to make sure that everything was ready and in place, Hermione unfroze the alarm and then hid in Harry's portion of the tent—the nearest one to the exit—while Ron woke up and Harry made his way back to them. Once her bespectacled friend was inside the tent, Hermione muttered a small echoing charm to make Harry think that Ron was calling him—it might make them argue for a minute if Harry ended up stumbling over Ron while the redhead was getting changed, but they'd get over it—and then waited until Harry was out of sight before ducking out of the tent and jogging a good distance away, just out of the perimeter of their protective charms.

Then, before anyone could see or stop her, she disapparated away from their new hideout.

So far, Draco's task from Severus hadn't gotten off to much of a start. After having successfully—and by the skin of his teeth, in some ways—gotten his family vault key out of his father's office, the first thing Draco had done was take it down to Knockturn Alley to have a copy made. Unfortunately though, even the most expert duplicator, Moribund—whose shop was named after him, directly across from Borgin and Burkes, but whose "business" was made mostly through services that he did not sell in-store—couldn't get it done for him immediately, and had asked Draco to come back the following day to pick up his product. As it was, Draco would have to pay a significant extra sum for the "rush job".

I ought to take it out of the family vault to pay for it, Draco thought ironically, though of course he would never give himself away like that. Because while the key to the vault might have been easy to get and while his parents weren't opposed to him openly taking money from them, every transaction from their account at Gringotts was monitored and recorded. Draco would have to be an idiot to give himself away so early on.

Having accomplished this, he didn't make much of a show of looking for any of the items on the list, or even really looking at the list, since, in his opinion, if he didn't have a place to put them, what was the sense in beginning to find anything? After all, he wasn't one to plan ahead like Granger, and—

Her again. Try as he might to forget their encounter, Draco just couldn't put it out of his mind. The way Hermione Granger had looked at him...it stung. Okay, the hatred was nothing new, and definitely not the hostility, bu the fear? Draco had never had anyone look at him with fear before in his life, not even when, for a short time in his second year, some people had assumed that he might be the Heir of Slytherin before Potter spoke Parseltongue and more or less set himself up for it. It wasn't a welcome sight to have anyone look at him that way, even though most Death Eaters relished it.

And it wasn't like Granger was the first one to look at him that way, but...

At least at Hogwarts no one in my year is scared of me, Draco reflected. It was just different to have it be someone he knew, as opposed to someone who only assumed he had power over them when he had never so much as given them a backward glance. For it to be someone like Hermione Granger though, who had once even punched him in the face, it was something that hurt more.

Wait...hurt?! You're losing it, Draco.

Currently, the younger Malfoy was striding down the cobblestone path towards Knockturn Alley, up early morning when all the shops opened—though it seemed to be nighttime all the time in the business district centered around the dark arts—and ready to collect both the original and his completed duplicate. When he entered into Moribund's storefront, he was relieved to notice that he seemed to be the only customer so far. All the better to ensure privacy.

"Moribund!" he called out, as creeped out by the hanging shrunken heads as anyone would be, but of course having to maintain that haughty and indifferent Malfoy manner.

Moribund, a stooped, thin figure who in several ways resembled the uncanny skeletons he had nailed to his walls—he highly advertised the cracked parts as having extra fortune-telling magic, or so he pleaded when his trial came up at the Ministry several years ago—stepped forward from behind his counter, giving Draco a wicked-looking yet welcoming grin. "I didn't expect you so early, Mr. Malfoy," he said, his voice a thin rasp. "I can assure you that you will be pleased with what I have made for you."

"Show me," Draco ordered, not showing any intimidation as the seven foot tall man—Draco would have guessed him to be part-giant, if only he didn't know from what Hagrid taught them at school that giants needed a minimum weight and body fat to survive their own structure, something to do with bone density or their organs, maybe—came forward. In Moribund's hands, he held out a dark mahoghany box, inside of which, on a velvet surface, were two identical golden keys.

Offhand, Draco really couldn't tell the difference between them, not even when he leaned in close to study the markings for wear or when he picked them up and held them in his hands. For a regular household key, such as even a muggle might have, Draco could have gone to literally anyone to have it done or even done it himself; but all keys for accessing Gringotts were goblin-made to match their locks and therefore completely unique. Only a goblin themselves could be counted on to point out to anyone whether convincing duplicates were fakes or not, and this certainly was a convincing copy for just one night's work.

"Which one's the real one?" Draco asked.

Moribund smiled mischievously. "Don't you know?"

"The point is for no one to tell these apart, but you obviously know since you've worked on them," Draco said. "Which is it."

With a sly glint in his eye, Moribund pointed out the key in Draco's right hand. Pocketing the left, Draco hung the other key on a thin chain around his neck. As he tucked the chain back under his robes and against his skin, it disappeared.

Moribund grinned with glee. "It seems I signed on for a more interesting job than I first thought, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco gave him a wary but stern look. "Just as long as your store guarantee stands," he warned.

Moribund held up his bony hands defensively. "No questions asked and nothing said, whatever the case," he chuckled. Then, holding out a hand palm up, "Now then, for my fee?"

"As agreed on," Draco said, taking out a bag full of Galleons and dropping it into Moribund's waiting hand. Part of those were from what he had taken out from his father's desk the previous day, but most of it was from Draco's own account. Thank goodness that wasn't checked, but it still peeved Draco to have to dig even that much into his allowance savings.

Severus, this is costing me already and I haven't even started! I hope you're grateful for this! he thought.

Wait, grateful? If there was anyone who should be grateful, it was him, for everything Severus had done from making the Unbreakable Vow to actually performing the task of killing Dumbledore himself, and then diverting the Dark Lord's focus to him instead for Draco for a time. He owed the man more than could be put into words, and so this task, strange and somewhat ridiculous though it was, was really nothing but a drop in the ocean for how Draco could be paying him back.

And besides, you're not doing it just for him, Draco reminded himself as he walked out of the store and took the turn that would lead him out of Knockturn Alley. If anything, even this early on, it felt more and more like it was for him, regardless that he didn't know what the purpose was.

At the same time that so many things were familiar, like the storefronts and hustle-bustle of activity, Diagon Alley was a different place from what Hermione had remembered. Some stores, like Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, were conspicuously empty and abandoned, obviously because the Weasley family were among some of the most sought-after wizards in the Wizarding World just at the moment, and therefore had gone into hiding. Of course, a store that sold mainly devices for pranks and trickery might not have sold well during this time of war and turmoil anyway; but then, on the other hand, it might be just what some people needed.

Hermione felt a pang deep within her chest as she viewed it from afar, reminding her of how dear the Weasleys were to her and how worried she was about them. Maybe she didn't obsess over them like Ron day-by-day—and Harry likewise couldn't devote all his time to worrying about them, especially Ginny—but she still thought about them often and hoped with all her being that they would be alright.

Besides some of the closed stores themselves though, the crowd that now wandered Diagon Alley was...slightly changed. For one thing, ever since the massive break out of Azkaban prison two years ago, and then the joining of the Dementors to Voldemort's cause, more and more Death Eaters and other criminals were let lose into the world, some of their cells now occupied by former members of the Ministry of Magic and other supporters of the Order of the Phoenix. From her infiltration of the Ministry earlier on, Hermione also knew from records that muggleborns like Mary Cattermole were set to be sentenced there, but she didn't want to think too closely on that due to how hard it hit home for her; unlike Ron and Harry, who could claim partial if not full pureblood lineage, Hermione herself was viewed as being worth even less than them by people like Dolores Umbridge and others who now ran the Ministry under Voldemort, and it both hurt and scared her to think about.

Anyway, the usual crowd in Diagon Alley was now heavily mixed in with wandering Death Eaters, many of them wandering about in trademark dark clothing and some even wearing their traditional masks from before. Hermione, in a disguise which included the illusion of a hunched back, grey hair that she'd purposely made frizzier, a pockmock jinx, and ridiculously large spectacles that she'd based off of the ones that Professor Trelawney wore, felt completely exposed, even though her disguise blended in well.

All in all, she looked like eccentric older witch that, though obviously ugly and trying not to be with an "attempt" at fashion via a dark green robe, was no threat to anyone. Adopting a Yorkshire accent for when she spoke would only further sell the point she was trying to make that she was a country witch who didn't get around much and who was probably a bit ditzy with her spells. With luck, she was a figure that everyone would want to finish business with quickly, and so no one would take a close look at her.

An hour was all she needed, if things went well.

The first thing she needed was obviously a bowl or basin, for which she tried Potage's Cauldron Shop to see if they had anything. Unfortunately, they didn't, though the saleswoman did direct her to one of the peddling stalls outside, where Hermione thankfully found a secondhand basin at a thrifty price that she had no trouble affording. For money these past few months, the threesome had been using some of the funds that Harry had been able to take out of his savings before the flight to the Burrow, but until now they had been very careful with the money and even given Hermione charge of it so that neither Harry nor Ron could find excuses to antagonize the other.

On the one hand, Hermione felt terrible about betraying Harry's trust in this way, but she figured that since this was all in the interests of finding out more about Voldemort, at least he'd accept it even if he didn't immediately forgive her.

Next what she needed was a few basic ingredients for the liquid mixture that would go into the basin, all of which could be used in potionmaking and thus were easily found at Apothecary. So far, Hermione had gotten everything she needed, and things were going off without a hitch—she might even be back in half an hour at this rate!

The last thing she needed would be a book on famous witches and wizards, or at least a record of some kind like the books she had found in her first year that had given the threesome information on Nicolas Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone. Unfortunately, that had been a library book and not one of Hermione's own, so she didn't have it stashed in her satchel along with her other books, but at least she knew what it looked like. If she could find it again and purchase it, Hermione was convinced that the wizard Harry had seen in his vision might be there. After all, if he was important enough for Voldemort to go after, surely he'd have made an impact in Wizarding World history!

From what Hermione knew, there were three major bookshops in Diagon Alley. She set forth for Obscurus Books first, as it seemed the most obvious location...

Unfortunately though, a full ten minutes of searching and inquiring later, and Hermione hadn't found the book. She tried Whizz Hard Books next as well, but still no luck. She couldn't understand it—back at Hogwarts, it had been so easy to find, she had just checked it out for some light reading, and she hadn't even known what it contained!

It wasn't even in the Restricted Section! she reminded herself, smiling a bit at the memory of the wild goose chase she had sent Harry on in searching for it using his invisibility cloak. Those times seemed so long ago, but were so very dear to her...

Yet now, even after going to Second-Hand Bookshop, the third and last one that had a wide enough selection but almost no quality and little organization to its products, she still hadn't found it. Why was it that no one seemed to have the book in print? Since it hadn't been in the Restricted Section, surely Hogwarts couldn't have the only copy, right?

But then, in Hogwarts: A History, Hermione had read that the library at Hogwarts was the most sought-after for study in the whole of the Wizarding World, so it was no surprise that some books might indeed be rare there. Just her rotten luck that the one book she thought might help them was in the castle to begin with, and therefore out of her hands. Hermione actually regretted that she hadn't thought to steal a few things from Hogwarts before she left, it would have been that easy!

Just listen to yourself, Hermione Granger! You're taking this 'breaking the rules' thing much too far!

Peeved at herself for not having gotten all that she'd come to Diagon Alley and put herself at risk for, Hermione headed for the exit to the alley in a huff, resolving to think up an alternate solution—maybe check out one of the peddlers before she left—and then had the worst luck imaginable to put herself in the way of a street-vendor who, according to the sign, was earning her apprenticeship to work for Madame Primpernelle—the owner of Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions, a shop that helped witches "get rid of warts and worse".

And, oh Merlin, did this witch look ready to prove herself on the job.

"Top o' the morning to you, midear!" she greeted in a lilting Irish accent. "You look like you could use some of Madame Primpernelle's excellent services!"

Hermione hurriedly stepped away from her. "No thankyeh, I'm in a hurry," she groaned out.

"Nonsense!" The witch, a tall and attractive redhead, put herself in Hermione's path, holding out a potion bottle at the ready. "Perhaps you haven't heard our motto? Well, let me enlighten you! A witch is only as confident as she is attractive, and at Madame Primpernelle's—"

But Hermione didn't stick around to hear the rest of the witch's speech. Aware that a few witches and wizards, including one or two Death Eaters, were turning their way to listen to the saleswoman, Hermione did the only think she could think of and muttered a spell to make one of the table legs shorter. This of course toppled the entire thing over backwards, spilling potions and even creating quite a bit of a mist in the process. Even holding her breath, Hermione detected the scent of some ingredients commonly used in love potions, which might explain why some of Madame Primpernelle's services had been so heavily praised in The Daily Prophet.

Dodging wizards left and right at a speed that, had anyone taken a closer look at her, would have been uncanny in a witch as old as she looked, Hermione fled, her wand drawn and ready inside her robes should she encounter any trouble.

Once back in Diagon Alley, Draco already felt like he could breathe easier. A part of him wanted to go to Gringotts right away, just to check that Moribund had been telling him the truth about which one was the real key, but since the duplicate wasn't in his father's office yet, he couldn't risk it. No, the first thing to do would be to get back home and—

But before he could get very far into that thought, Draco bumped—or, to put it more accurately, collided—with some harried witch or other going in the opposite direction and clearly not watching where she was going. Draco pushed away from her and was just about to tell her off, when suddenly he got a very good look at her, and realized that he knew this witch.

She looked much older and was extremely ugly, but those wide eyes gaping back at him from behind those ridiculous spectacles were too familiar for him to mistake, not after they had gaped at him in fear just two days before.

Granger?! What in the—

But before he could yell, point, or even whisper, Hermione had cast a silencing charm on him which, apart from rendering Draco entirely silent, shocked him in that it was a difficult feat of magic to perform, especially on another wizard! If he could have, he would have called her out on it, but obviously...

Taking out his own wand, which nowadays he kept in his sleeve once outside of Hogwarts, Draco prepared to cast a nonverbal spell that would at least distract her long enough for her concentration on the charm to diminish, but Hermione caught the move and, before anything else could happen, had grabbed a hold of his hand and disaparated both of them.

A/N: Ooh, cliffhanger! I'll try not to give in to the temptation to make a lot of these, but every now and then I do think they're necessary to add that extra "spice" to the story, wouldn't you say? Besides which, a change of location is always a good excuse for one, and for now we've obviously finished with Diagon Alley. I hope the length of the chapter has made up for its ending though—yes, no, maybe?

Anyway, as an added note on the character of Moribund, I took liberties in just picking out a store from Knockturn Alley that hadn't really been expanded upon in any ways—or, at least, I didn't find anything when checking the Harry Potter wikia—and while I was at it, I took liberties on the character of Moribund himself, anything to make it not boring to get through. Again, I do try to pay attention and get the details from J.K. Rowling's world accurate though, so everything else about this chapter and location hopefully satisfied.

ALSO, just in response to one of the reviews I got recently on the Hermione-Ron relationship, while it did occur to me that it's not a relationship to promote in a Dramione fic, one of the things I'm aiming for in writing this is realism and accuracy as far as the original story is concerned, and it felt just as unrealistic for me to ignore that relationship as it would be for me to make this an insta-romance between Draco and Hermione. Now, if I had made this take place earlier like, say, whilst our main characters were still at Hogwarts, even in their sixth year, maybe I could have shifted around Hermione's feelings so that Ron would effectively be out of the picture when dating Lavender Brown or something. But, since I decided to start us off with the Deathly Hallows timeline, readers will have to assume that the feelings of Ron and Hermione, at least at the beginning of this fic, are what they were in Rowling's original books. Now, I won't be pushing this too much or making Hermione too responsive to Ron's advances, but just be aware that our lovable redhead will be making those advances, and let's just say that I don't intend to have them progress anywhere, m'kay?

And, as always, please to follow, favourite, and review, review, REVIEW! (See you in the next l-o-n-g chapter!)