Roses are red
Violets are blue
I don't own Harry Potter
This is sad, but true
Massive thanks to Littlered1992 who had a stupid crazy week and STILL managed to get this beta'd on time!
Hope you all enjoy this update! xx
A fortnight passed without much progress. Hermione could tell Draco was growing more and more restless, and though she tried hard, it was becoming increasingly difficult to reign in her own frustration.
"I just don't see the point in fixating on this one thing," Draco gestured towards the book Hermione had open in her lap. It was the one with Lucius' markings.
"You were the one who suggested it may be important." Hermione said, her tone clipped.
Draco puffed out both cheeks and released his breath in a harsh gust. "Well obviously I was wrong."
"I don't think so," Hermione shook her head but did not glance up from the text. "I know I can crack this."
"When?" Draco snapped. He was lounging in the recliner while Hermione was sitting cross legged on the floor. He had leant back in the chair, but his ire had made him tense.
"I don't know," Hermione said through gritted teeth. "But I can tell you that we would get there a lot faster if you stopped harassing me and instead began to help me."
"Forgive me, Granger," Draco deadpanned, "but I seem to recall you saying that you would work on cracking the code?"
"Yes," Hermione huffed and brought her gaze up to meet his steely grey eyes. "But I didn't mean that you couldn't help me. I could easily study this at home," she held up the book slightly. "I don't need to come to the Manor every second day."
"Then don't," Draco shrugged as if he couldn't care less if she never came back, but his stormy eyes told a different story.
Hermione snapped the book shut and stood, looming over him. "Draco Malfoy, I have sacrificed quite enough for you and your family," her voice was shaking but she continued. "I think you shouldd be more grateful!"
"I am!" He insisted, running a hand through his hair. "It's just that I thought we would be closer, you know?"
"I know," Hermione echoed, though her eyes remained tight and she had placed her free hand that wasn't clutching the book on her hip. "But frustration doesn't give you the right to use me as your emotional punching bag."
"I'm so sorry for not being the little ray of sunshine one would expect from a wizard who is being kept prisoner in his own home; where are my manners?" He deadpanned. "I'm not a bloody house elf, you know."
"Neither am I!" Hermione spat. "If you don't want my help then just say so!"
"I do want your help!" Draco countered, rising to his feet. "I just don't think that's what you're doing?"
"What? I'm not helping? Draco, I gave up my job for this!"
"I thought this was your job!"
"That's not the point!"
"I'd love to know what the point is, because everything we have done so far seems fucking pointless! My mother is still behind bars and at this rate I might not even be free from house arrest before her fucking funeral!" He was shouting now, and each of his words sliced through Hermione as if they were knives.
She only realised once he had finished that tears had pooled in her eyes and she blinked them back. "Well," she cleared her throat, "if that's how you feel…" she snatched at the book and turned to stalk from the room but was stopped by a solid wall of muscle. Blaise caught her by the shoulders as she stumbled, his sweet-smelling cologne overpowering her nostrils.
She shrugged him off and pushed past him, leaving the bewildered wizard to glare accusingly at Draco.
"Just leave it, Blaise." Hermione heard him utter as she sped away from the library. "Please, just…leave it."
On Monday morning, Hermione was woken by the roar of the fireplace. She had once again fallen asleep on the couch, Lucius' book open across her chest. Only this time it wasn't the cold or the unforgiving stiffness of the couch that roused her from sleep; it was a tall, dark visitor.
"Morning." Blaise sing-songed as he dusted off the front of his robes.
Hermione had barely opened an eyelid but at the sound of his voice, she was instantly on her feet, the book dropping to the floor with an unceremonious thud. Her wand was in her hand and pointed directly at his chest, a stunning spell on the tip of her tongue.
"Merlin fucking damn you, Zabini!" Hermione gasped as she lowered her arm, her wand still clenched in her fist.
Blaise made a sound like a laugh through his nose, but it didn't last long enough for Hermione to confirm that it was mirth. He stepped forward with a hand outstretched. Hermione, her heart still thudding painfully against her ribcage, looked down at his offering and frowned.
"An old, chipped teapot. Wow, Blaise. You really shouldn't have." She deadpanned.
"A portkey," he corrected her coolly.
Hermione's head snapped up to meet his gaze. "A - ?"
"You have an hour."
He dropped the teapot into her hands; she caught it clumsily by the handle. No sooner had the cracked porcelain made contact with her skin, Hermione was tugged forward into nothingness. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out, and before she knew it her feet hit solid ground.
Her dismount was not graceful, but she commended herself for being able to stay upright given the circumstances. Setting the teapot on the table to her right, Hermione pocketed her wand and looked around; she was back in the Warden's office in Azkaban.
"You have an hour."
Blaise's words swam around in her mind and she shook herself into action.
"Narcissa."
From the office, Hermione took the stairs two at a time. By the time she reached the eleventh floor, she was wheezing, out of breath, and clutching a painful stitch on her right side.
The walk from the stairwell to the far end of the corridor seemed longer than usual, the dark tunnel stretching for eons until…
"Miss Granger?" A rasp from the last cell on the left caught her ears. The muffled mumblings of the other prisoners rose slightly at the sound.
"Mrs Malfoy?" Hermione jogged the last few steps and fell to her knees against the bars of Narcissa's cell.
The blonde woman was lying on the straw-strewn ground, huddled in the foetal position and pressed right up against the bars. Hermione's heart clenched; had Narcissa been waiting for her?
"I'm afraid I don't have much time." Hermione wrapped both of her hands around the bars and whispered as quietly as she could. "I found a book I believe belonged to your husband." Narcissa made a high-pitched noise through her nostrils but did not stir beyond it. Hermione hurried on, conscious of Blaise's time restraint. "It has runes on it; runes I believe were drawn by Lucius himself." Narcissa whimpered. "I need to decipher them; can you give me a clue? Anything that could be helpful?"
Narcissa was silent for several long minutes. The symphony of the other inmates screeching, whistling, and murmuring mixed with the distant sound of the sea lapping against rocks and the wind whistling through the cracks in the stone; it made Hermione feel dizzy.
Just as she was about to give up, Narcissa took a long, ragged breath, as if she had been underwater for a long time and had just managed to break the surface.
"I have told you," she began, "once before…" she trailed off and fell limp once more. A few seconds later her eyes fluttered, though they remained closed, and she continued; "Lucius kept the records in the Ministry."
Hermione felt desperation prickle in her chest; now that she was no longer a Ministry employee, she had no hope of ever accessing those records. At least, not easily.
"Is there anywhere else I can check? Or something else I can do?" She hoped the anxiety wasn't too obvious in her voice.
"You could ask him." Narcissa finally replied.
Hermione sat back on her heels, allowing her fingers to drop from the cold, hard iron. Go and see Lucius? She had not entertained the idea; she had no intention of working for him or with him. While his wife and son did not deserve to be punished for their role in the war, Lucius Malfoy certainly did. Hermione had vowed when she began working on the Malfoy case that she would never lay eyes on the patriarch of the family. But maybe Narcissa was on to something; maybe this was a hint.
Hermione stood abruptly and thanked Narcissa. She turned on her heel without a proper goodbye and broke into a run. She sprinted down the corridor and back down the stairs, spiralling downwards until she collided with a solid body on the second floor.
"Sorry!" She huffed as she was thrown backwards.
"Hermione?"
Hermione froze; she knew that voice, and this was the worst possible time to run in to the person it was attached to.
"Ron," she tried to keep her voice calm.
"What are you doing here?"
"None of your business." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. At first, Ron looked taken aback, but then his eyes narrowed and he leaned towards her.
"Actually, it is," he disagreed. "I'm on patrol here, and you're in a restricted area."
"I'm here on legal business," she said haughtily. "The specifics really aren't your business; confidentiality and all that." She checked her watch. "Any way, must be off."
She tried to push past him, but his strong hand wrapped around her left elbow. "Hermione, you can't be here!" He hissed. "I know you're here for Malfoy and I don't like it; you can't trust him."
Hermione scoffed and tugged against his hold to no avail. "What would you know about trust, Ronald?" She spat. "Let go of me!"
Ron's grip tightened to the point of being painful. "No," he shook his head emphatically. "I won't let you make this mistake."
Hermione ground her teeth together and fumbled in her pocket with her free hand. It wrapped around the solid wood of her wand and before Ron knew what was happening, she had pointed it at him and shouted; "Stupefy!"
The grip on her arm loosened immediately as Ron fell with a thud to the stone floor. He lay there motionless, but Hermione did not take any time to check to see if he was still breathing; as far as she was concerned, he deserved everything he got.
She took off at a sprint once more, and finally reached the Warden's office. She opened the door with such force, the wood bounced against the wall, the crash echoing around the space. She knew she didn't have a lot of time, definitely not enough to carefully search the space for prisoner records.
"Accio Lucius Malfoy's records!" She waved her wand, but the filing cabinets remained closed. She swore colourfully under her breath and stowed her wand hurriedly back in her pocket. In the back of her mind, Hermione had known it would not be that easy, but she was still annoyed that the simple spell hadn't worked.
She threw herself further into the room and slammed the door behind her; she was on borrowed time. Her heart thudded in her chest as if threatening to burst from it. Reaching the first cabinet, she grasped the cool metal handle and tugged; it would not budge.
Of course, she thought savagely to herself.
"Dunamis!"
She had managed to shield one ear with her free hand just before the explosion; the other rang as if an old-fashioned kettle had set up residence in her cochlea. With her ear still whirring, she staggered forward and clung to the front of the filing cabinet, which was now barely intact and smoking from her spell.
"Accio Luicus Malfoy's records!" She repeated.
This time, several sheafs of parchment flew through the air and into her awaiting hands. She glanced down at the top piece of paper; he was on the fifth floor. Without bothering to put the room back together, she once again left the office and thundered up the stairs. She leapt over Ron's stirring form with surprising grace and continued until she reached the stairwell with a large, red number five painted on the wall.
She slowed her pace only slightly as she made her way down the corridor, moving in a zig-zag pattern from cell to cell, looking for the tell-tale platinum locks.
She found him about halfway down.
"I wondered when I would be seeing you, Miss Granger."
Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice. It was lower and much more hoarse than she remembered, but icy disdain still laced every word, and his enunciation was that of a perfectly raised pureblood.
"Oh?" She collected herself quickly and moved a step closer to his cell.
Just like Narcissa, Lucius Malfoy showed the tell-tale signs of having spent a long time in Azkaban, though his were not as severe. His hair was still long, though it was not as shiny or as clean as it had once been. There were scratches on the back of his hands as he wrapped them around the bars. His face was puffy and there was a bruise under one eye, but he managed to look as haughty and as proud as ever.
"Yes," he breathed, pressing his face between the bars. Hermione fought a shiver. "Draco's told me all about you…" He trailed off and cocked his head to the side. Hermione was reminded forcefully of a similar conversation in a book shop at the beginning of her second year. She pushed the memory aside and stood a little straighter.
"I'm here on his behalf," she began, keeping her voice as low as possible. There weren't as many sounds in this corridor as there were on the eleventh, but the whispered musings of insane witches and wizards still swam about the freezing air. "And on behalf of your wife."
At the mention of Narcissa, Lucius dropped his arrogant façade for a fraction of a second.
"My wife?" He repeated, a frown marring his features. "You're representing her?"
"You didn't know?" Hermione took another step forward, feeling that she may have found her advantage. "I've been working to free her for as long as I've been working to free Draco."
Lucius' eyes hardened again, and Hermione chastised herself for using his first name.
"Indeed." Lucius said. Hermione could practically hear the cogs turning in his head. "So then, why are you here talking to me if you're working to free my wife?"
"I need your help." Hermione stated. "I have found a book with runes; runes written in your handwriting."
"You have no business going through my property!" The blond was unable to contain his fury.
Hermione smirked. "Actually, I do. But that isn't the point. I believe that the runes are the key to setting Narcissa free, and I would like for you to tell me how to decipher them."
Lucius sneered, but did not respond straight away. Hermione let him stew in his thoughts, her outward demeanour calm and nonchalant. On the inside, she was screaming for him to hurry up; the portkey would not wait, and her hour was almost up.
Finally, he replied; "And if I do tell you how to decode the runes, what will I get in return?"
"With that information I can clear the names of your wife and son; they will be able to live their lives free of the stigma you attached to them."
Lucius' lip curled. "That's not enough." He snarled. "I have a proposition for you, Granger. I'll give you the information you need, but I want to be rid of this place, too. If I hand over the code, you will give me my freedom. Do we have a deal?" He extended one hand slowly through the iron bars.
Hermione wanted to say no. She wanted to turn away and walk down the corridor, back to the awaiting portkey. She was the brightest witch of her age; she didn't need the likes of Lucius Malfoy to help her.
But then she remembered Narcissa, how this time she didn't even have the strength to sit up. She remembered how Draco had been growing moodier with every visit and her heart clenched almost painfully. Yes, Hermione was a logical witch, but she also had a very big heart, and in that moment, it won over every thought in her head.
"Deal." She said, jutting her chin out and accepting his hand. She shook it once and then immediately stepped back again. "Now tell me the code."
He smirked, an ugly twisting of his mouth, until he looked less than human. Hermione shivered, instantly regretting her decision to work with him. "You'll need to access the Ministry vaults. The code is hidden in a locked case on level three of the underground archives; behind door four."
Hermione committed the information to memory and then nodded once. "Thank you," she said brusquely. "I must go now." She turned to leave, but Lucius called her back.
"Remember Miss Granger; a deal you form with a Malfoy is one that must be upheld for as long as both parties live. Should you think of double crossing me, please know I will make it my personal mission to erase any happiness from your life. Good day."
With that he turned away from the front of his cell and shuffled back towards the scrap of cloth he used as a bed. Hermione wanted to retaliate; to remind him that she was his ticket out of here, and that if she decided to betray him, there wouldn't be much he could do while rotting in Azkaban.
But she didn't have time. Instead, she threw one last look of loathing over her shoulder before sprinting back down the corridor. The stairs clanged as she made her descent, and voices of guards echoed around the space. She pushed harder as she hit the landing of the second floor, where Ron was getting to his feet. She flew past him, knocking her elbow into his midsection which caused him to double over, winded.
Without pause, she shouldered her way back in to the Warden's office which still resembled a bombsite. She waved her wand to undo the damage she had create earlier. No sooner had the filing cabinet sealed itself once more, the portkey began to glow. Hermione lunged to take a hold of it and instantly felt the familiar tug behind her navel; she was gone, swirling through space until she landed gracelessly back in her apartment.
Blaise was lounging on her couch, one leg propped over the other, a book open in his lap. He used his index finger to follow the words as he read them. He did not look up as Hermione thudded back into the space.
"Merlin!" She huffed as she got to her feet. "Some warning would have been nice, Zabini."
"Perhaps." He noted the page number and closed the book, his gaze coming to rest lazily on her face. "But then, where's the fun in that?"
Hermione glared at him as she came to sit by him. He shuffled over to make room, but not enough to create a respectable distance between them. She would have felt uncomfortable had she not been eager to chastise him for his accosting her earlier.
"Just when did you plan for this?"
"I overheard your conversation with Draco last fortnight," he replied easily, his dark eyes intent on her own. Hermione frowned. "The one about how you couldn't ask Potter for another portkey to visit Narcissa."
"Oh." Her frowned deepened and a blush began to creep its way up her neck as she remembered the moment she had believed Draco was about to kiss her. Her stomach swooped as the memory of the way his hands had slid own her arms tortured her senses.
"It took me longer than I had hoped to convince the witch in charge of portkeys to arrange one." He raised one eyebrow. "Anyway," he rose to his feet and buttoned his jacket together. "How did it go? Did you manage to see Narcissa?"
"I did." Blaise hummed in triumph, but Hermione held up a hand to stall his celebration. "I also saw Lucius."
"What?"
Hermione sighed. "Narcissa is in a really bad way, Zabini. She can barely move, and her breathing is atrocious. I didn't have a choice; he has the key to cracking the damn code and I had to go and ask him."
"Granger, Lucius Malfoy is as much a criminal today as he was when the Dark Lord returned in 1995. Please tell me he didn't give you any information and that you left immediately upon his refusal?"
Hermione slowly shook her head and Blaise let out a string of expletives, several of which she had never heard before.
"He told me where to find the code."
"And what have you promised him in return?" Blaise's eyes flashed accusingly, and Hermione swallowed against the argument brewing in her chest.
"I told him I would free Narcissa…as well as him."
"Fucking hell!" Blaise began to pace, both hands on his hips. "That wasn't the plan!" He rounded on her again. "Draco is going to be ropable."
"About what?" Hermione countered. "If I can get the code, Narcissa will be free by the end of the month."
"And Lucius?" Blaise shot back. "He's evil; pure evil, and you're just going to let him walk free!"
"I'll make sure he's kept under strict house arrest for at least twelve months, and he will be heavily monitored."
"You can't guarantee that!" Blaise shouted, throwing his arms wide. He stood staring at her for several seconds and Hermione got to her feet. Before she could begin her tirade, however, he lowered his arms and softened his voice. "Granger, I appreciate that you're trying to do the right thing by Narcissa and Draco; but making this sort of deal with Lucius was a big mistake."
"Maybe so," Hermione said tightly. "But let's not forget you're the one who turned up in my apartment unannounced this morning. You threw a portkey at me with no warning or guidelines, and I did the best I could do given the circumstances. Forgive me if I didn't get everything right!"
Blaise sighed and he squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment. When he opened them, they had softened, and Hermione felt the fight leave her in one breath. "I'm sorry, Granger." He said. "I do appreciate everything you're doing. What did Lucius say?"
Blaise resumed his seat on the couch and Hermione sat next to him, though further away this time, tucking her legs beneath her. "The records are in the Ministry vaults in the underground archives." She said.
Blaise sucked in a breath. "That won't be easy to get to."
"I have a plan," Hermione said quickly. "I may not work there anymore but I can visit Harry."
"And Potter will just allow you to go into the underground archives and look about, in order to free Lucius Malfoy? Sure." Blaise drawled.
"No, you prat." Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll go directly into the archives; if anyone asks, I'll say I'm there on business for Harry." She grinned at the impressed look on Blaise's face.
"You know," he began slowly, "you would have made a damn good Slytherin, Granger."
Hermione huffed indignantly. "I'm beginning to hear that a lot lately. I'm not sure if I like it."
"Well, if it comes from an actual Slytherin," Blaise stood and gathered his coat, "I'd take it as a very sincere compliment." He winked at her before turning on his heel and disapparating with a loud crack!