And that's the thing about people who mean everything they say. They think everyone else does too. – Luna Lovegood
The lethargic wizard groaned as his forehead thumped against the metal table. The air was thick and near sweltering, which he was positive was done purposefully. The condensation slid down his water glass, not that he had touched it. He didn't trust them and that was probably for the best.
"He's been in there for hours. I can't believe he hasn't touched the bloody water."
"You do realise he's Lucius Malfoy and was probably planning subterfuge while we were all in nappies, yes?"
Theo and Zacharias exchanged venomous glares, frustrated with the ridiculously lacking interrogation methods. Robards had demanded the Veritaserum laced water be presented to the former Death Eater without preamble. They had warned him against it, but Robards wasn't required to heed their unsolicited advice.
"He's got to be thirsty though. Hell, I'm thirsty just watching him sweat." Zabini pressed his nose against the glass and yelped when Lucius snarled at him.
"He can't see you."
Theo ground his palms into his eyes rather than shoving his wand up Zabini's nostril. Violence was frowned upon amongst Ministry employees, even if they were vexing. He liked Blaise well enough but his like or dislike had absolutely no bearing on his waning patience.
"If you don't let me out, I'm going to whip out my cock and urinate," Lucius moaned from beneath his curtain of sweaty platinum locks.
"If I have to see that I quit," Zacharias muttered, accentuating his revulsion with a faux gag.
Robards snorted as he burst through the door, thoroughly frustrated. He detested when he was micromanaged by the Minister. He knew as well as anyone else that Lucius Malfoy did not set Fiendfyre on the bloody Apothecary. He understood the suspicion, Merlin knew he'd had it plenty himself, but after the Borgin and Burkes fiasco, it was inconceivable. Despite his distaste for Malfoy, Robards knew the man wasn't a blithering idiot.
"Nott, Smith, see to your reports. Send Weasley up."
Theo rolled his eyes and turned to leave. He hadn't any fucking reports to attend. He had meetings with the Muggle Minister, interviews to conduct with more bloody Muggles, and he really just wanted a nap.
It was exhausting and he hated nearly every moment of it. He hadn't signed onto the Ministry to be their fucking Muggle Relations Officer or whatever shit they were calling it lately. He was an Investigator but gods forbid they allowed him to actually investigate anything! Can't have that! Logic and all that rot.
"You're being ridiculous!"
"Me? You're the one that refuses to meet with the estate agent. You're the one that refuses to try on those stupid fucking dresses that have completely engulfed my flat. You're the one that invited Daphne and Marguerite to fucking stay and now I've got to dress before breakfast for fuck's sake, but I'm ridiculous."
Theo pinched the bridge of his nose and willed the Malfoys to cease their angry tirade. He heard a door slam and felt its reverberations as Malfoy stalked toward his former desk. Theo watched Draco slam drawers and nearly decided against approaching him.
"Malfoy, the entire department could hear the shouting." Weasley clucked and waggled his finger in mock disappointment while finishing the last bits of his breakfast sammie.
"Never get married," Draco growled.
"This isn't the best time to tell you your father is in Interrogation, is it? Weasley, Robards has requested you. I'm hoping the Ministry has decided against further action." Theo approached the duo cautiously, his eyes flicking between them.
"Malfoy—" Hermione scurried into the Hit Wizard offices, her robes dangling from her forearm. "Your mother sent an owl and she's positively distraught."
"My father's being held for questioning," Draco mumbled without looking at her.
"What's going on with you lot?"
Ron shrugged into his Auror trench and wiped his hands on his brown trousers. The tension between Hermione and Draco was disconcerting, to say the least. Pushing them together was supposed to make everything better, not exactly the fucking same.
"He wants me to give up everything." Hermione crossed her arms, her brows high in her hairline, silently daring him to refute her words.
"You're exaggerating," Draco snarled. "I want her to go through the wedding gowns my mother sent. I want her to consider selling her flat. I want her to consider leaving the Ministry and working with me. I never demanded anything. I'm selling my fucking flat as well so you can stop looking at me like that, Weasley. I want to create a home. I didn't insist she move into the Manor or even the Cottage, despite the fact it's tradition. I didn't insist she quit her job and dedicate her life to charities. I didn't make any fucking demands, I asked her to consider, but that's wanting her to give up everything apparently." He tossed his hands in the air rather than indulging in the thought of wrapping them around her throat.
"Hermione doesn't like change. She doesn't like admitting when she's wrong. She doesn't like being wrong. She doesn't like, well loads of things, really. Usually, I try to talk some sense into her, but she rarely listens, besides, it's not my job anymore. Good luck, Malfoy. I'm off to deal with your father."
Hermione watched Ron lope through the offices with fire in her eyes. He was right, she knew he was, but it didn't ease her fury. She still maintained her husband was being utterly unreasonable. It was a whirlwind of emotion and the changes were entirely too much, too soon, too everything all at once.
"Kingsley really should have given you a bit of holiday with all the wedding nonsense."
Theo glanced at Hermione quickly, hoping to soothe her ire. He'd always found her level-headed unless Malfoy was concerned. His mate always had a tendency to burrow under her skin and irritate her until their shouting interrupted the work day. It was magical, really.
"Kingsley ordered everyone to report to duty," Draco sighed. "The Fiendfyre in Diagon Alley was fucking devastating."
"I'm sorry about the Apothecary, mate. I heard you just signed to purchase it from Williamson. He's gone missing, which doesn't bode well for him. We managed to contain it before it burnt to the ground and the preliminary investigation is leaning toward the idea it was set to hide the body."
Draco rubbed his face with an ink-stained hand and squeezed his eyes closed. He didn't want to discuss the Apothecary. He didn't want to dwell on his dreams up in smoke. He wanted to direct his attention to capturing the bastard and perhaps even accidentally kick the bloke's face in.
"Wait," Hermione breathed. "The Apothecary?" She spun toward Draco, her hand soft on his back. "Your Apothecary? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Does it matter? You made it abundantly clear you weren't interested in vacating your illustrious Ministry position."
Theo's dark eyes flickered between the bantering Malfoys. It really was terribly interesting watching the range of emotion dance across their faces. It gave him insight into their innermost thoughts and feelings, not that they noticed. They were entirely too consumed with each other and for a moment, he wondered how that would feel.
"Oh, Draco, no. I didn't mean never. I just, I couldn't in good conscience leave the Ministry with this madman on the loose. There's no telling where he'll strike next or even his motives behind the attacks. I've been working on a file, compiling information, and I really think I'm on to something."
Draco turned slowly and perched on the edge of his former desk. He searched Hermione's eyes for falsehood and saw nothing but concern. She grasped his hand and squeezed gently, mindful of the silence around them.
"I thought it was because," Draco paused to clear his throat and glare at Theo. "I thought perhaps it was because of uhm what I said the other day. We never, well we never discussed it or anything and—"
"No!" Hermione blushed and shook her head. "Theo, could you give us a minute? I think Smith is near the door."
"I told you—" Draco sputtered the moment Theo stomped toward the door.
"I know what you told me," Hermione hissed. "You said it and then you left. What am I supposed to do with that, Draco?"
"I was giving you time to process it. Merlin knows you wouldn't be able to function if you didn't overthink everything."
Draco crossed his arms, daring her to refute his words. He scowled, as was his nature, and arched an eyebrow in the face of her silence. Quite honestly, he'd expected more of her than to ignore his confession and she'd disappointed him.
"We haven't had a moment to ourselves and—"
"And whose fault is that?"
"Fine, yes, it's my fault." Hermione clenched her jaw and closed her eyes for a moment. "I suppose I should have consulted you before I offered my flat to Mrs Greengrass and Daphne. I was actually considering uhm, well they're very fond of it and I'd like them to keep it."
Draco, ever mindful of Nott and Smith's invasiveness, snatched Hermione to his chest and tangled his fingers in her hair. She stiffened, obviously uncomfortable, but it didn't stop his endeavours, rather it encouraged them. He winked, a hint of a smile teasing the corner of his mouth, and slanted his lips across hers.
Her gasp was swallowed by his talented mouth and her knees weakened. She hated that. Her body was traitorous as far as Draco Malfoy was concerned. She was angry, wasn't she? It really was difficult to concentrate with his hand pressed against the small of her back and his tongue in her mouth.
"The Malfoys are being inappropriate again!" Blaise Zabini intentionally bumped Draco's shoulder, his arms filled with reports.
"Nothing new there, Zabini. What on earth is that?" Theo stared at the numerous files utterly aghast.
"These are files on every fucking person glancing at Diagon Alley when the Apothecary went up in Fiendfyre. The Minister says the Investigators need to do their jobs. Some nonsense about due diligence but frankly I think he's a bit lost. The Aurors, The Hit Wizards, The Investigators, and the Ministry haven't any fucking leads at all." Blaise laughed and unceremoniously dropped the files onto a nearby desk.
"They're still snogging." Zacharias curled his lip, disgusted by their wanton behaviours.
"At least they're not shagging, consider yourself fortunate," Theo snapped.
He considered a well placed Stinging Hex. He really, really considered it. They were driving him absolutely mad. He couldn't keep up with incessant bickering turned snogging. There was work to be done dammit!
"You can't just kiss me—" Hermione sighed against Draco's insistent lips.
"Yes, I can. Did. If you keep it up, I'll do more than snog you." His grey eyes darkened, filled with lascivious intent and gods, she was tempted.
"You're incorrigible."
Hermione shoved Draco's ridiculously hard chest and spun on her heel. She quickly righted her wrinkled blouse and turned her attention to the stack of files. She knew the Ministry was desperate; it was obvious from the haphazard list they had been provided.
"This is bullshit," Theo growled.
"Obviously. Have you looked through this? They have bloody first years here. As if a first year could conjure Fiendfyre when they're barely capable of Casting a passable Lumos."
Hermione bristled when Zacharias stepped near and for once she was thankful for Draco's possessive nature. She appreciated the way he sidled between them, his hand daringly low on her back. The low timbered growl didn't help in the least and she made note to chastise him for it later.
"Without the students, small children, and known Ministry employees, there's barely a dozen files here." Draco peered over Hermione's shoulder barely resisting the urge to nip it.
"I don't think we should dismiss Ministry employees quite so easily, Malfoy."
"Perhaps not, but the two listed are the Minister for Magic himself and his Undersecretary. I highly doubt the Minister set the Apothecary on fire; however, eyewitness accounts which are logged just below, state the Minister exited the Leaky after the screams."
Hermione glared at her husband, her jaw clenched nearly as tightly as her fists. It didn't alter the sparkle of amusement in his narrowed grey eyes and she ached to slap the smirk from lips. She settled for slapping the file closed, which wasn't nearly as satisfying.
"If you lot are done with the eye fucking; Williamson has been spotted in Muggle London." Ron snorted as he stalked into the room and silently dared Malfoy to refute his observations.
"Smith, sift through those files for viable suspects. Granger and Malfoy, go see about Williamson. Weasley, where's your counterpart and why are you back here?" Nott's tone oozed pragmatism as he focused on the mission at hand.
"Oh yeah uhm Malfoy, the Minister released your father. He said you and your wife best report home directly after shift or he'll set your mother on you." Ron shrugged yet his lips twitched with amusement.
Hermione snorted, which quickly segued into muffled laughter as she covered her mouth and averted her eyes. She yelped when a harsh hand slapped against her bum, her cheeks flushing. She attempted to glare, truly she did, but the muffled laughter stemming from Ron and Theo didn't aid in her endeavours.
"Think that's funny, do you?"
"Yes! If you're not careful, your mum will send you straight to bed without any biscuits."
"If we don't interrupt, they're going to snog again and I like my breakfast firmly lodged in my stomach, not splashed across my shoes." Ron grimaced. "Harry should be along shortly. It seems he and Lavender are patching things up. I didn't ask for details. I didn't want them."
"I suppose we'll have to reschedule our dinner with them, especially if we're to meet with your parents. I was actually looking forward to sitting in a restaurant and chatting over a glass of wine. Her letter was lovely." Hermione sighed and quickly rubbed her forehead. "Alright well, that's that. We're off to Muggle London."
Draco snorted and grasped her elbow. He wasn't the least bit sorry they wouldn't be able to dine with Potter and his irritating wife. He didn't necessarily want to see his parents either but in this case, it was the lesser of two evils.
"Do you suppose we can skive off for a quick shag?" Draco whispered against the shell of Hermione's ear, his tongue teasing her until her elbow struck his ribs. "I'll take that as a no for now, but I wager I can change your mind."
The strange man's greyed ponytail blew in the slight breeze as he amassed numerous glances from passersby. His red robes were obviously out of place but he didn't know where he was. It was difficult to think, to formulate a coherent thought. He was a man on a mission yet he couldn't recall its importance. He only knew it had to be done.
The straps around his chest were exceedingly tight but he knew better than to attempt to adjust them. He'd been warned, at least he thought he had. He considered it and his right hand shakily moved toward his chest only for a sense of foreboding to consume him. No, it was best he let them be.
The building. The building in the distance was important. He didn't understand the green letters staring back at him as he rounded the corner. He didn't understand much of anything. The people scowling at him were very strange. This wasn't what he remembered, what he knew.
He owned a shop. It was a lovely little shop. He was going to be a very rich wizard after he swindled the Malfoy brat. He remembered that much and it made him smile.
His feet moved slowly, one foot in front of the other and he was nearly there. He observed the Muggles as they bustled through the revolving door. His feet wanted him to follow them and he would have, but then the screams filled his ears.
An angry Muggle shoved him in his haste and Williamson's robe fluttered open, revealing his malicious intentions. His mouth opened and closed yet the lack of tongue kept him from uttering anything beyond tortured grunts.
Where was his tongue? He used to have a tongue, didn't he? Surely, he must have. Who took it? Why did they want it? It hurt his head to think beyond that. He had a job to do; he was sure of it, as much as he could be sure of anything. The filmy haze forcing his limbs to cooperate clouded his thoughts but he knew he had to do this. It was important. He was important again and it felt nice.
"Williamson!"
He twitched as he heard his name shouted, felt the jostle of panicking Muggles. His fingers curled, almost as though he held a wand that wasn't there. He hadn't the time or the ability to ruminate on his lack of wand. He recognised that voice and it sent a shiver down his spine.
"Malfoy wait. The area hasn't been cleared."
He didn't know the girl personally but he knew who she was, everyone did. She was vaguely pretty he supposed. The Malfoy boy was exceedingly protective of her and it was obviously a source of contention between them. He probably would have enjoyed needling them if he could.
He grunted, the remnants of his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth. It was time and he struggled against the compulsion. He wasn't ready to die. He was finally on the path to redemption. He would finally be rich and the Wizarding World would finally cease treating him as a bloody pariah.
He was an Auror once, respected even. It wasn't his fault innocents had died. He was on mission. He was doing his duty dammit! He knew they had been Death Eaters. He knew it deep within his soul but they refused to listen.
There wasn't a lick of proof they said but he didn't need any fucking proof. They ran. They ran and they were guilty as hell. It was no surprise they wound up in a den of absconding Death Eaters. Of course, he hadn't meant to kill them but what was done, was done and he didn't regret it.
He was disgraced and left with his meagre savings to rebuild his life beneath a shroud of contempt. He clenched his jaw and shook his head until his jowls ached. His feet dragged him forward, propelling him through the revolving door. There was no use fighting it.
His lips stretched into a strained smile as he watched the Malfoy bastard give chase as his breasted mate tugged on his forearm. The tears pricked his eyes and his gnarled fingers tore open his red robes, revealing his waistcoat strapped with the strange little bricks. He understood their purpose as it was well explained while multi-coloured threads were shoved into them.
"Williamson! Stop! Don't!"
"Malfoy! You can't!"
"Dammit Granger, let go!"
Williamson waved cheekily just before he spread his arms wide. He closed his eyes as he listened to the mysterious ticking noise just beneath his heart. It was time.
The sound was deafening and the ground shook. Williamson was ripped to shreds during the blast while the Hit Wizards and straggling Aurors that the Ministry dispatched were covered in shattered glass speckled with blood. Draco Malfoy simultaneously cast the Shield Charm while he tackled his wife to the ground.
He felt the heat at his back and grunted as broken bits of brick rained down from the sky. Hermione squirmed beneath him, the wind knocked from her, but he wasn't ready to relinquish his hold, not yet. He waited until the last bits of falling debris scattered around them before he yanked Hermione to her feet.
"Malfoy," Hermione whispered, her voice strangled, eyes wide. "There's an ear on your shoulder."
Draco hastily flicked the molten ear from his shoulder and focused on her. His hands stroked over her shoulders, over her cheeks, down her ribs. His eyes roved every inch of exposed skin, hissing at the obvious scrapes and bruises. His breaths were rapid, his heart pounded in his ears, and he dragged her through the mass of screaming Muggles, incapable of rational thought.
"What are you doing? We need to help them! They're injured and terrified! We need to send a Patronus and—"
Draco shoved her against the intact building across the Muggle street and popped the button of her black trousers. He didn't have the words. He couldn't formulate his thoughts. He only knew he needed her, right then, and nothing would stop him.
Her huffs of protest fell on deaf ears, even when he shredded her knickers. It was pointless to protest, especially with his eyes as dark as they were. It was instinctual, she knew that much, and he wouldn't be satisfied until he appeased the desperate need to sink into her depths.
"I liked those knickers." Hermione blustered, yet remained still. "There are Muggles watching your pale arse, oh my gods…"
He knew she'd be furious with him later, but it was definitely worth it. Her body welcomed him as though it were made for him and he hissed as he slid home. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, her curls plastered to his forehead, her thighs clenched around his hips.
"You like being on display, don't you? Their eyes on you, lips whispering as your head falls back and you flutter around my cock."
"I don't see you complaining." Hermione blushed and screwed her eyes closed as he wrenched open her blouse and hungrily attacked her hardened nipples.
"Of course not, kitten. I could stop if you like. I could leave you right there, riding that precipice and refuse your release. Would you like that? I could touch you and make you scream for the Muggles instead. Would you rather that?" He slipped his hand between them, pressing into her, revelling in her squirms.
"Y-you can't leave me like this. You can't."
"It might be worth it, love. Later, to make up for it, I could bend your delectable arse over my lap and spank you with that paddle hidden in your bureau. Better yet, I could spread you on the table and fuck you with my tongue." Draco smirked, pleased with himself.
Hermione's fingers dug into his shoulders, her teeth latched onto his ear, and her moans filled the heavy air between them. She quivered against him, her sweat slick on his chest while she stiffened in silent scream. His tongue flicked over his teeth and he knew he had to sink them into her. Her strangled gasp rocked through her with a shudder as his teeth pierced her skin and he spilt into her, finally sated.
"I told you I could change your mind." Draco hummed in her ear happily.
"The Ministry is going to have our arse. Do you have any idea how many Muggles will need their memories modified?" Hermione shoved against his chest, not that he budged.
"For what? Like they've never seen people shag before? Or crazy people blowing themselves up? Or body parts splashing in the street? Come off it."
Draco groaned when his cock slipped from her and hastily buckled his trousers. He seriously considered leaving the Investigators and Aurors to clean up the mess. He didn't much care for wayward body parts. However, one look at his rumpled, sexy, and fucking furious wife had him rethinking the matter.
"You're ridiculous. We should be aiding the injured."
"We did! We gave them a delightful show! Take a look at them, Granger! They're smiling despite the fact they've got bits of Williamson all over them."
Draco twisted his hand in her disastrous curls and tugged her against his chest. She opened her mouth, probably to reprimand him again, but he quickly covered her lips with his own. The silence wouldn't last, it never did, but damned if he didn't enjoy it.