Roses are red
Violets are blue
I don't own Harry Potter
This is sad, but true
A massive, special thank you goes to my alpha/beta littlered1992, who helped me rework this entire chapter! Specifically, the Dramione scene…kudos go to her for the idea. Let me know if you can spot which movie it was based on :D xx
The lanyard hung heavily around her neck, her employee card slapping against her stomach. Hermione looked both ways down the corridor before determining that it was clear. She moved quickly towards the metal doors and presented the slip of plastic; access was granted and she checked once more to ensure she had not been followed before entering the pitch-black corridor.
As before, the lanterns flickered overhead once the doors had shut behind her. She watched as her breath rose in front of her in a puff of translucent steam. Locating the correct door, Hermione allowed the feeling of excitement to well up inside her as it opened.
At first glance, it looked like she had opened the door to an oddly stacked store room. There were innumerable boxes staked on top of one another in the small space, as well as loose sheafs of parchment, several oddly shaped pieces of glassware, and what looked like a large globe of the world perched on top of the pile.
Hermione puffed her cheeks out, raking her gaze over the impossibly packed storage cupboard. Exhaling slowly through pursed lips, she stepped forward and raised a hand to a box; then she hesitated. It couldn't hurt to use a simple accio first, given the amount of time and definite mess it would take to locate the answers Lucius had promised.
She gripped her wand in her right hand and whispered the spell. To her surprise, a shoebox-sized parcel zoomed out of the pile and landed against her chest with a dull thud. Hermione, never having been one for sports in either the Muggle or Magical worlds, fumbled as she wrapped her arms ungracefully around it.
"Bloody hell," she muttered, blowing a stray curl from her face as she straightened up. She glanced around again, locked the cupboard, and then turned on her heel to retrace her steps back to her office.
She was stopped before she reached the double metal doors.
"I wondered how long it would take you," Harry's voice was low, and laced with disdain.
Hermione jumped in fright at the sudden intrusion, but recovered quickly. "Good morning, Potter." She supplied dryly.
A twitch of his mouth was the only indication that he had registered the use of his surname. His eyes narrowed as they landed on the package in her arms. Hermione gripped it tighter, lest he reach out and take it from her.
"Using your current position to further your own gains is despicable, Hermione."
"But it was okay for you to do it?" Hermione spat back.
"That was different! I was helping the wizarding world get back on its feet after a terrible tragedy!"
"It's no different to what I'm doing; the Malfoys deserve their freedom, Harry. You cannot convince me otherwise."
"I'm not stupid enough to think I could." His hands fisted at his side. "All I'm saying is that you've only been here a day, and you're already down here as if nothing else matters."
"What would you have me do?" She sneered. "Wait a week? A fortnight? Sit around like a good little pencil pusher for the next month? Newsflash; nothing else does matter to me right now. Narcissa is dying and Draco is almost at the end of his house arrest."
"Did you not think," Harry took a step closer to her and lowered his volume, "that being here, and stealing that," he nodded at the box in her hands, "could jeopardise both their cases?"
"Are you threatening me?"
"No," Harry set his jaw and spoke through gritted teeth, "I'm warning you."
Hermione glared at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of the reasonable, compassionate boy she had met all those years ago as he shared all of his sweets with someone less fortunate than himself; she found only contempt and a worrying undercurrent of condescension. Her shoulder thrust deeply into his side as she pushed past him, hurrying towards the lift.
"Consider me warned," she said coldly, addressing his back.
"Hermione," he sighed, turning on the spot to face her again; the elevator had gone, and she was already out of sight.
"Draco!" Hermione called as she marched through the front door. It swung open as she moved towards it, not breaking her stride until she stood in the middle of the vast foyer.
The Manor looked completely different to when she had first visited here; the curtains were tied neatly back from the windows and sunlight streamed into the room, making it feel warm and inviting.
"Malfoy?" Hermione called again as she moved towards the stairs to her right.
She had no idea where his bedroom was; she doubted she'd even be able to navigate her way to the drawing room from here. It did not seem like a farfetched idea that the living quarters would be on the second floor, or perhaps even the third.
Poised to move towards the wide staircase, Hermione was stopped in her tracks by the tell-tale sound of Miksy apparating into the room.
"Miss Hermione!" The elf squeaked and bowed low. "I is taking you to see Mister Draco, Miss!"
Before Hermione could react, Miksy launched forward and grasped her hand. In the next second, they landed in a vast bedroom decorated in deep greens and silvers.
"Granger?"
Hermione staggered, slightly disoriented from the sudden apparition. She faintly recognised the sound of Miksy disappearing and turned to face Draco. He had just exited the bathroom, his wet hair slicked back from his face and a towel slung low around his hips. Hermione's mouth dropped open as she noted the light smattering of blond hair that ran in a straight line from the bottom of his rib cage, over the defined muscles of his abdomen, and disappeared scandalously into the waistband of his pants. Finally, she watched the muscles in his upper arms flex as he brought them across his chest, folding them there nonchalantly.
Subconsciously, she took two steps towards him; she was close enough to see the droplets as they ran from his neck into the fine hair on his chest.
"Can I get dressed first?" He smirked and Hermione felt her cheeks burn an inferno.
This was too much for Hermione, and she turned on her heel with a squeak. She squeezed her eyes shut and took two steps forward, colliding with a large solid object she discovered was his bed, her eyes forced open on impact.
The box she was carrying pressed against her front and she was suddenly reminded of the reason for her visit. She turned robotically again and strode back to him, careful to avoid his gaze. She dropped the box on the floor near his feet and began her retreat again, backwards this time.
She was almost at the door before she realised she was still holding the notes, and she needed the box.
"Merlin," she whimpered. She could feel his gaze on her as she ran across the room and bent quickly to collect the box. As she straightened, she realised that there was less than a foot between them, and Draco was looking at her with an expression of sinister amusement.
She took a big step backwards and stretched her right hand in front of her, offering him the stack of notes. He glanced down at her hand before meeting her gaze again. She waved the papers, the rustling sound echoing around the room, and he took them from her slowly.
"And what am I meant to do with these, Granger?" His voice was low, and far too seductive to be allowed.
Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out; she briefly wondered if it was possible to die from the overheating of one's face before her flight instinct kicked in.
"Not – I – never…I – shit…" she stumbled both over her words and her feet as she scurried backwards, glancing furtively over her shoulders to ensure she would not collect herself on another piece of his furniture. The feel of the doorframe between her shoulder blades was a relief and she flashed a manic smile before turning and sprinting down the hallway, and back down the stairs.
She found Miksy in the kitchen, unsure of exactly how she found her way through the vast house. The little elf, while apologetic, wore a knowing smile the entire time Hermione chastised her for taking her to Draco while the Master was in such a state.
Her lecture was cut short as the source of her embarrassment entered the kitchen, blessedly clothed. He grinned as he entered, but Hermione did not return the courtesy.
"I've scheduled your mother's re-trial for the fifteenth of September, two weeks after your house arrest will be lifted."
Dammit, Hermione winced, he can do basic maths, you fool! Stop talking!
"I managed to get in to the archives and Lucius left a diary," she tapped the box absentmindedly, the cardboard still tucked beneath her arm. "It had the code in it, and a list of instructions for if any of you were ever imprisoned. And a vial!" She could hear the hysteria in her voice, but it seemed as if Draco was too shocked to dig her out of the hole she was burying herself in. "I think it contains a memory from Dumbledore, and – "
"Dumbledore?" Draco finally interjected, and Hermione drew her first breath since he entered the kitchen. "Why would you think that?"
"Because your father mentions him, on the list of instructions."
"Lucius hated Dumbledore," Draco commented flatly. "Why would there be a memory of his at the Ministry?"
"Because it was supposed to be used as evidence in your case," Hermione felt her heartrate skyrocket again, as though her mind would torture her with mental images of catching Malfoy half naked and her flailing like a virgin if she didn't fill every second with noise. "I believe that someone purposefully hid this evidence, but I don't know why. Maybe your father would know; I'm sure he would," Hermione shook her head, "I – "
"Granger," Draco stepped towards her, reaching forward and removing the box from her vice like grip. As he settled it on the counter, she realised she had almost squashed it flat. "I really appreciate what you're doing for my family."
Hermione's eyes widened impossibly and her lips parted in an effort to draw more oxygen into her suddenly starving lungs. Mesmerised, she simply stood rooted to the spot as he lifted a hand and gently tucked a stray curl behind her ear, his patented smirk tugging at his lips.
"So," Hermione winced, hating how her voice shook on just one syllable. "A plan…"
"I'm sure you have one," Draco grinned, and Hermione felt butterflies erupt in her abdomen.
"Yes, I do." She cleared her throat. "First, I have to get the vial to a pensieve. "You don't happen to have one, do you?"
Draco shook his head. "No. We used to have several, but my father destroyed them when he learned that the Dark Lord would be residing here."
Hermione pursed her lips. That sounded exactly like something the self-serving patriarch would do. "I'll have to use one at the Ministry…" she said, more to herself than Draco.
"What about Lucius?"
"He helped me get the answers that will help free Narcissa. Then it's up to the Wizengamot to decide whether that constitutes enough evidence to release him."
"Let me know if I can help," Draco said.
Hermione nodded, her smile slowly returning. "I will…only one more week!"
He smiled back, and for a moment they just stood looking at each other, grinning like idiots. Hermione leaned closer, as if their chests contained magnets of opposite poles. She watched as his gaze flicked to her mouth; his eyes darkened and his tongue seemed to move in slow motion as it darted over his lower lip.
Draco raised his arm and Hermione braced herself for his hand on her cheek…it found her shoulder instead.
"Well, I'll show you to the door." Draco's touch was gone as quick as it had come, and Hermione felt as if she had been slapped. Dazedly, she collected the box and followed him from the kitchen.
"Thanks for stopping by," he said as they hit the foyer. "Please let me know as soon as you've attempted the plan." His voice was too businesslike, and Hermione frowned in confusion; had she completely misread him?
Before she could return his goodbye and escape from the most awkward, embarrassing encounter of her entire life, the front door opened behind them and quick footsteps made their way into the foyer.
"Hermione!" Blaise's eyes went wide as he stopped in the entryway.
"Blaise!" Hermione turned on the spot and came face to face with the Italian wizard. He was wearing simple blue jeans and a yellow polo shirt, looking anything but like the professional businessman.
He stepped forward and scooped the witch into a hug and Draco had to work quickly in order to turn his growl into a cough.
"Good to see you," Blaise took Hermione's hands in his and held her at arm's length. "Did you do something to your hair? It looks amazing." He shot her a full-blown Zabini smile; all one thousand watts. Draco ground his teeth together as he recognised the tell-tale blush on her cheeks.
"Thank you," she said shyly.
Hermione did not mind the attention Blaise was showing her, but she did wonder what his motives were. He seemed like a nice enough wizard, when he wasn't busy schmoosing and blackmailing, but she still wouldn't trust him as far as she could throw him.
"Are you staying for dinner?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, I just came to tell Malfoy the good news."
So Blaise already knew. Typical, Draco thought, and she's back to using my surname now? He choked on his inhale and folded his arms across his chest. "Thanks for coming by, Granger," he said bitterly. "I'll be in touch."
Hermione watched, bewildered, as Draco hurried back up the stairs and disappeared down the hallway.
"Don't mind him," Draco heard Blaise purr. He imagined the Italian wrapping a hand gently around Hermione's upper arm and leading her towards the sitting room. "Would you like some tea?"
"Oh," Hermione's muffled reply came from below him and Draco slowed down so that he would catch her response, "sure, I'd love some tea."
Of course she would.
I should have known, Draco thought as he paced his study like an agitated lion, Blaise has been playing me; he wants me to make a fool of myself in front of Granger so that he can have her all to himself.
Hermione had settled into her new role at the Ministry surprisingly quickly. She had assumed that people would need some time to adjust to Vivienne being gone, but the change had gone smoothly. Hermione had not ventured to the Auror department since her run in with Harry, and she had decided to wait a week before attempting to locate the pensieve to watch the memory from Lucius' box.
With just five days until Draco's release, and only two and a half weeks until Narcissa's re-trial, Hermione knew she didn't have a lot of time, but she was so sure the vial was a memory from Dumbledore himself; there was no immediate need to rush.
She arrived at the Ministry early, determined to find the pensieve in the courtroom chamber and watch the memory before anyone else arrived in the Department. She dropped her things off in her office; she wasn't sure how long the memory would be, and didn't want to look like she had arrived late as she made her way back. Ensuring that her office was locked, she walked quickly towards the lift, and took it down, the vial clutched firmly in her right hand.
It was not difficult to locate the stone basin; it stood in the middle of a small room off to the side of a large courtroom often used for the higher profile cases. She stepped forward and moved to take the cork from the vial; she did not hear the door open behind her…
"Hermione? What are you doing in here?"
Hermione turned quickly, her hands braced behind her on the edges of the stone basin. The tall form of Ron Weasley was peering down at her. Hermione gasped, but in her shock she could not find the words to ask him the same question.
The door closed behind him with a dull thud and he stepped further into the room. As he moved, the candles threw his expression into sharp relief; his eyes were narrowed, and his lips pursed – a sure sign that he was suspicious.
"I – "
"What have you got there?" With reflexes she would not have believed he possessed, Ron snatched the vial from her grasp before Hermione had a chance to respond.
"Give it back!"
"A memory?" He held the vial up towards the light of a candle, the silvery mist within swirling and writhing as if it longed to be free of its confines.
"It's none of your business, Ronald," Hermione snapped. "Now give it back!"
"Tell me what you are doing down here."
"Isn't it obvious?" She deadpanned. "I was going to view the memory."
"Whose is it?"
"I don't know."
"This has something to do with Malfoy, doesn't it?"
"I believe that the Malfoy case is the sole responsibility of my department, Ron." Her tone was defiant, but her insides were churning like the sea in a storm.
"Your department," he echoed quietly. His eyes slid from her face to watch the memory dance in the vial. "Vivienne hasn't told me exactly what went down last week," he murmured, "but I've known you long enough to tell that you had something to do with her decision to quit."
"What your wife does is not of my concern," Hermione shot back. "If you're so suspicious, why don't you go and play detective with her?"
Ron's eyes narrowed to slits and he took another step forward. Hermione had never been scared of him; he was not physically violent or threatening, and for all the shit he put her through emotionally, he had never laid a hand on her. In this moment, however, he was menacing, and as brave as Hermione was, the situation was delicate. She had to work hard not to react to the adrenaline coursing through her body.
"I'd rather you just answer the question, Hermione. What does this vial contain and why was it so necessary for you to be down here using Ministry equipment if it has nothing to do with the Malfoy case?"
"It's for another case." Hermione lied quickly.
"Okay," Ron sneered. "Which one?"
"That's confidential."
"We work for the same department," he hissed. "Tell me what is going on, and I'll give it back."
Hermione shook her head. "You're here out of loyalty to Vivienne," her voice cracked over the witch's name, but her eyes were dry; it was an odd moment to realise she had finally moved on from Ron and now only felt pity for him, but she could not dwell on it for long. "I do not owe you an explanation for the vial or for her leaving the Ministry. Now, please hand back the vial so I can continue on with my day."
Ron was silent for a long time. His blue eyes raked over her features as if committing them to memory, and his stance shifted into a more relaxed position of someone admiring a painting. As he watched her, Hermione felt the baby hairs on her neck stand up. Calm was not a word she would use to describe Ronald Weasley, and a feeling of dread began to coil in her gut the longer they stood opposing each other. She was about to break the silence by lunging for the vial, but Ron seemed to anticipate her movements.
"Hermione Granger," he enunciated as he moved his arm above his head, holding the vial aloft, "I am confiscating this memory under suspicion of your malpractice in regard to your work on the case of the Malfoy family."
Hermione felt the spring of dread snap, and heat coursed through her like a flooding river. "What? You can't do that! I don't even know if it has anything to do with the Malfoy case!"
"Yet you found it in an archive hidden by Lucius Malfoy himself?" Ron grinned condescendingly.
Longing to launch in to a tirade, Hermione bit down on her tongue; if she wanted the vial back quickly, she knew she had to play along…as difficult as it was.
"You can have this back," he wiggled the vial between thumb and forefinger, dangling it in front of her face, "when I am satisfied that the contents will be enough to ensure Malfoy's safe passage back to Azkaban."
"I suppose it's fitting," Hermione said in a knowing tone, "that the selfish prick would show loyalty to those who deserve it the least. Enjoy your comeuppance."
Ron frowned as he reached the door, but he did not pause in his movements to open it.
At lunch, Blaise visited Hermione in her office. He had been gracing the Ministry more often since Hermione had started her new position. She was working to improve his reputation with the officials, and so far it was looking like he would have to begin a new recruitment drive and open a London office just to keep up with demand.
It was not routine, Hermione had mused, to have lunch with Blaise, but he had appeared at the same time for the past three days, and they always ate together. Usually, they stayed far away from the topic of Draco and his mother's case, but today Hermione had to tell him what had gone down with Ron and the pensieve.
"And you just let him walk off with it?" Blaise threw his arms wide, anger flashing dangerously in his eyes.
"What was I meant to do?" Hermione shot back. "I'd left my wand here!"
"You fought in a fucking war!" He hissed. "How do you forget to take your wand anywhere? When I Floo'd into your apartment you were sleeping with it!"
"I'm sorry, okay?" She sighed and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "I took an opportunity; I forgot to grab my wand. I wasn't expecting to be accosted by Ron."
"Sorry?" Blaise blinked, a threatening smile on his face. "Granger, if that memory hurts one hair on Draco's or Narcissa's head, I will ensure you live to regret the day you placed the Sorting Hat on top of yours."
"Trust me, Zabini," Hermione said through clenched teeth. "If this hurts Draco or his mother, there is nothing you could do that would be worse than what I will do to myself."
Blaise exhaled forcefully through his mouth. "I'm sorry," he spat. He paused, glancing down at the witch in front of him. "So…you do like him." His tone was softer now.
Hermione glared at him, her cheeks suddenly flushed. "This is not the time, nor the place." She gestured with a nod towards the door.
Blaise flicked his wrist lazily and the door clicked shut. "Come to dinner tonight; we can break the news to Draco together."
Hermione's eyes widened and she shook her head emphatically. "Draco can't know; he's so close to being released, I don't want to upset him with this. Let me handle it. Blaise," she waited for the Italian to nod once before continuing. "Promise me you won't say anything? I'll have the memory back in time for the trial. He doesn't need to know."
"I'm not promising anything, Granger. Keeping things from Draco has never been part of our friendship, and I'm not about to start now…especially not with something so important. This could change everything. And," he quirked an eyebrow at her, "if you're sure that you like him in that way," he grinned at the scowl on her face, "then you shouldn't hide this from him either."
Hermione slumped back in her chair and lowered her gaze to her lap. "We're so close," she whispered.
"Whatever is in that vial will only help Narcissa's case, I'm sure of it. Weasley will return it as soon as he figures that out, and you'll be on your merry way to save the day as usual."
"Thanks," she smiled weakly up at him.
"Now," he clicked his fingers, "what shall I ask Miksy to make us for dinner? Any requests? Special dietary requirements?"
"Nothing fancy," Hermione said quickly; though she had realised years ago that house elf liberation had far more consequences than their enslavement, she still didn't like the idea of putting pressure on Miksy.
"Okay," Blaise pushed out his bottom lip in thought. "Can do. Meet you at the apparition point around six? We can have a drink, and you can tell Draco about the vial after he finishes his third glass; that's the safe range."
Hermione smiled nervously. "Okay," she nodded. "See you at six."
Blaise was waiting for her at the apparition point at exactly six o'clock, and Hermione smiled as she approached him.
"Ready?" He asked.
"As I'll ever be," she shrugged. "Let's go."
Blaise offered her his arm and Hermione took it. In a split second, their surroundings disappeared and they were being squeezed through tightly packed air. Their feet hit solid ground, and Hermione found herself at the front door of Malfoy Manor.
"Draco!" Blaise called as they stepped over the threshold. "I'm home!"
Hermione bit down on the giggle that threatened at the implications of this statement and allowed Blaise to take her coat.
"Head into the sitting room," he told her, "I'll tell him you're here and butter him up a bit."
Hermione nodded and went to make herself comfortable in an armchair. As she sat, she heard footsteps approaching the foyer and then Draco's voice floated down the hallway.
"Blaise." Hermione frowned; his tone was oddly cold for someone greeting his best friend. "To what do I owe the overt announcement of your arrival?"
"I had a good day," Blaise's tone was as nonchalant as Draco's was tense, "I figured we could chat over a drink."
"No thanks."
"Come on, Draco," Blaise huffed. "Stop being such a mopey fucking prat. Granger is working her arse off on your mother's case and she's so close to cracking it!"
"Good. That's what my family's vault is paying her to do."
Hermione winced; that was harsh…and definitely uncalled for. What is up his arse?
"You do realise your family isn't paying a knut?" Blaise drawled. "You're being an arsehole; I spoke to Granger today and we – "
"Oh really?" Draco interjected, his voice dripping with venom. "How cosy, you and Granger cavorting behind closed doors. Just…cosy."
"What is wrong with you?"
"Forgive me for not wanting to hear about your work conquests," Draco sniffed. Hermione felt her blood run cold; how dare he!
"That's unfair," Blaise said warningly.
"Is it? Because it makes perfect sense to me! Every time Granger is here, she's swept away by you within fifteen minutes!"
A pause.
"I see."
"No you don't!"
"Then why don't you explain it to me, Draco, because honestly I don't know what the fuck is going on with you anymore!"
"What's going on," Draco spat, "is that I've had enough of watching you and Granger snuggle up to each other like a couple of lovestruck teenagers; it's sickening!"
"Oh?"
"I would appreciate," Hermione heard the menacing note in his voice and stood, wondering if it would be impolite to interrupt, "if you would just steer clear from her; she's here to do a job as my lawyer."
"Is that all this is about? You're upset about because I'm stealing your lawyer away from you?"
"Yes. It's completely…"
"Completely what? Because if it's really bothering you," Blaise's voice was low and Hermione crept towards the hallway to in order to hear more clearly, "I can always take her out of the Manor, if it makes you feel better…"
Hermione shuddered…what was going on? She had no more interest in Blaise than she had in Harry; they were friends. The thought of snuggling up to him, as Draco had suggested, was borderline repulsive.
"I think that's a great idea," Draco growled through gritted teeth.
"Really?" Blaise adopted a slimy voice Hermione imagined being used in board meetings with stuffy rich white guys. "You'd have no problem with me dating Granger if I don't bring our activities to the Manor? Because you know I own several hotels in London, including that posh little inn with the vibrating beds…" He paused, as if waiting for Draco to react. "You know the vibrating beds," he pressed, "her hair would look amazing spread across the pillows as I – "
"Fine!" Draco bellowed, his face tinged a delicate pink. "You want me to react? You want me to tell you I have feelings for her? Newsflash, arsehole, I've known for months, just like you have!" Hermione's mouth fell open and she quickly covered it with her hand to prevent the sound of shock from escaping. "I don't know why you keep pressing me on this! We both know I like her and I think it's pretty bloody obvious that she has feelings for you!"
"Stop!" Blaise growled. "You need to talk to her."
Hermione was suddenly gripped by panic; was Blaise about to drag Draco in here and force them to talk? Now? She wasn't ready – not after that display. Pushing herself off of the wall, Hermione walked as quickly and as silently as she could manage back down the hallway, gathering her coat from the stand in the entryway. Sighing heavily, Hermione clipped the door shut behind her. Her chest felt like it had been compressed between two heavy pieces of wood, and her head buzzed with the newfound information.
Just a quick note! Updates may be a little later than my usual Sundays as we near the end of this fic. My beta and I have both been ill this week and it has put us significantly behind. I will still be updating within 7-10 days for each chapter, and there is no way I'd abandon this fic. Thank you to all of you who have followed, favourited, and reviewed – I really appreciate it! I apologise in advance if future updates are sporadic, RL is such a pain!
Much love,
CourtingInsanity xx