Chapter 4.7
He's been awfully quiet these past few weeks. It must have been the reason why she easily accepted Draco to tag alongside her. She had an idea that after spending a month turning the time into a year that summer, training and travelling with him that he won't be around her head that much. She appreciates the privacy and the peaceful moments, but it still doesn't stop her from missing him.
She remembers clearly the day he picked her up from her house. Her mum suddenly still as board, eyes clouded and unfocused. Then the backdoor from the kitchen opened wide, and broad arms stretched out, inviting a hug. She didn't think twice to run towards him.
He was, or still is, a very brilliant man, with ambitions far exceeding anyone she knows. His knowledge with magic, science, history, politics and even the mundane are breathtaking. She was at awe, and now just misses him – a lot. So when he heard his voice again she can't help but be emotional.
'Hush child, I was only gone for two months.'
'It's feels like five.' She sniffed.
'Overusing the time turner?'
'No. I just miss you a lot. I wondered where you've gone.'
'Business. Perhaps if you'll be a good girl I can arrange a surprise for you this coming hols.'
'Well, I don't know about being a good girl…'
'Do tell.'
'Not really a good girl when I've got a slab of steak designed as bait.'
'How exciting. Be careful though, he may seem weak but he is still a grown wizard, one who successfully escaped Azkaban.'
'Yes father.' And that's what she started to call him. Couldn't call him any less during their short, or rather whole year excursion. She remembers with distaste how women just swoon at a seemingly obvious single grown man travelling with his daughter. It was a perturbing sight to see how the ladies fawn over him, the men blundering around him. It doesn't help that he looked every inch the regal man, dark suit and perfectly coiffed hair. How annoying. But his allure towards the fairer sex intensified as despite his hard structure he seemed to soften up around his equally adorable daughter. Because who else could she be, her hair might not be as coiffed and controlled into perfection as his but their face resemble each other so much. His own little mini princess - which she hated so much, especially when people decided to be grabby and pat her head or worse tried to pinch her cheeks. Thank Merlin for her father's lack of patience, and he confounds them away - sometimes with the Confundus charm, most times with the Cruiciatus. Her father was a nasty piece of work, terrifying and blood thirsty. And she just loves him so much. So to say that she misses the old man was putting it lightly.
'Don't worry little one, I will come for you soon.'
'Till then father.'
When it was time to set the trap, she saw a large black dog at the edge of the forest pass the owlery. So this was Sirius Black, bringer of death, the grim. She at least found comfort in knowing that this will benefit Harry in a way, can't hurt the boy if you're indisposed.
"Hello boy… are you lost?" His ears perked up on her voice. The dog growled a warning at her.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I was just waiting for my friend, didn't know the place was taken. I'll leave then." But then the dog nudged the her hand with its cold nose, signaling for her to stay.
"Are you sure doggy? I don't mind leaving." But the dog just barked, and whined low. Alright then, she was easy to talk to.
So they sat by the rock he's resting at, his nose playfully sniffing around her, trying to get a good whiff. Something about the girl was attracting to the onyx canine. When it seem that her partner-in-crime will take longer than usual, she decided to read to pass time. She read softly to him, while stroking his head nimbly with her fingers. Which got the mangy dog to relax, it probably helped too that her nails were painted with general anaesthesia, something she got from her parents' supply cupboard. She pricked his nose a little and the underside of his jaw, just a little to distort his sense of taste and smell. Her voice spelled to put the dog in a sense of security, something Draco suggested, the Canticum Sirenes. He gets points for that, sharing in some of the Malfoy's undisclosed spells. When they both heard the rumbling steps of someone coming, the dog didn't even bother to growl like what he did to her. His ears just twitched and continued to rest his head on her lap, her fingers still caressing his rough fur.
"Found a friend Hermione?"
"Yes, meet Doggy." The dog whined, disliking the pedestrian name. "Did you bring food?" Which got the dog's attention and was waggling his tail in anticipation.
"Got the elves to pack them, one Croque Monsieur for the Madame, kiwi slices, water because you hate pumpkin juice…" She rolled her eyes but happily accepts her lunch "and raspberry tart. Can't forget that."
"Thank you. And yours, what disgusting combination do you have now for a sandwich."
"I am so insulted Hermione, I'll have you know my Italian Beef Pot Roast Style Sandwich is the fucking-A. Grandfather's well kept secret, American muggle sandwiches."
"Eeoow. That's a mouthful." Wretched thing she thought.
"Of course it is! It has everything, rare roast beef, watercress, arugula, onions, ripe tomatoes, alfalfas – not you Alfalfa, hollandaise sauce, and cheese, lots and lots of it…. Look! Even your new friend here agrees. Right boy?" And oh the dog was positively drooling. Just when the blonde was about to tear open the exquisite combo the dog jumped forward, barking excitedly at him.
"Ha! Oh you want one of this now? Not to worry boy, let me just halve it." Draco places the other half onto a silver plate. Sliding it forward towards the dog.
Down he goes, chomping on it with much gusto. And not even a few minutes pass, he falls flat on his belly.
Draco cast a bewitched sleep spell to put the dog further into deep sleep. And Hermione, always the certain one, injects Propofol into the exposed vein in his paw. Just enough to sedate him, not to put him down, not yet anyway.
"Do you really like American muggle sandwiches?" She asks while trying to chew her own decadent sandwich.
"No." He chuckled softly, chewing pensively. "But Grandfather really do like them, and he introduced me to some. It was a bit of guilty pleasure for him, something he never shared with my father."
"And yet he shared it with you?"
"I'm the grandson, he was allowed to spoil me a little. Father doesn't really protest much, as long as I keep face as his Scion when needed."
"Well I like this better, laid-back and carefree. You look too stiff when composed."
"Free spirited girls do that to you."
"You're still a git though."
It would have been a friendly sight to see, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin laughing and jesting over a picnic, if not for the unmoving beast by their feet or the large syringe haphazardly laid on the witches side. It was picturesque, grotesque, burlesque. A beautiful union, one dark, the other darker.
