Chapter 13
Fuck me now.
Draco was sitting on his bed, ready to get under the covers when the Galleon warmed.
He stared at the glowing letters.
It had been a while since Granger contacted him. He didn't know how to process his interactions with her anymore after what he had discovered about her home and her life. Everything with her was new, risky, contradictory and unpredictable. He was having a hard time reconciling what he knew of Mudblood inferiority and her rightful place in the Wizarding world, with what he was learning about her, what she did for her parents, what she was doing for her friends, and what she did for some random pure-blood boy that she didn't even know.
Draco had no idea what Granger would ask of him or what she would say. He had tried to be careful in the information that he gave her, and wondered if he could guess what the Order was trying to do by the questions she asked. He had to consider whether or not the information he passed along would reveal that there was a spy in the army, and if so, whether or not it would be traced back to him.
Draco put his thumb on the Galleon and smirked. One thing he did know, he definitely got a thrill out of pushing her. He had no idea what to make of his memories of her constantly kissing arse at school with the sexy, snarky, conniving person he was meeting.
Cunt, arse or mouth?
There was a pause while he waited for her answer.
The Galleon warmed.
All three. Not necessarily in that order. 5 min?
He laughed. Definitely not the swot he remembered.
Draco thought of Granger's unplanned striptease again and his cock twitched, rising slowly but surely. It was an automatic reaction at this point. Thoughts of a nude Granger, full-blown erection.
"Cunt, arse or mouth?" Draco asked.
Hermione looked back at him over her shoulder, covering her breasts with a jumper, but the curve of her arse and back was on full display for him. Her hair hung down loosely between her shoulder blades.
"All three. Not necessarily in that order," she smiled seductively at him.
He couldn't meet her with a tent in his trousers, and thumbed the Galleon.
20 min.
With a creak of the mattress, he fell back onto his bad, legs dangling over the side and reached down his trousers.
Fuck Voldemort and his sodding army.
ooooooooooooooooo
Hermione Apparated into her room to see Malfoy lying down on her bed again, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He wasn't holding his wand, having already placed it on her bookshelf. That was encouraging. But he could also be lulling her into letting her guard down if he planned on Obliviating her.
She eyed her bookshelf where his wand was. Were her books… out of order? She forced her gaze back to him, floored. His interest wasn't just a passing fancy in her book from the Air and Space Museum. He was reading while she wasn't here.
Muggle books.
Draco Malfoy was coming into her house, into her bedroom, without her knowledge, and reading Muggle books.
What else was he doing here?
The thought that he was going through her and her parents' things was unsettling. But then again, if he was exploring her Muggle house, that meant he didn't think it was dirty, or that he would spontaneously develop some infectious disease, did it? He had no exposure to the Muggle world, He must be curious. Considering how disdainfully he reacted when she offered him the book on space exploration, she decided it best not to mention anything.
Hermione thought back to the day they evacuated the Hogwarts students and how Malfoy had simply opened the portrait hole for her and left. That was the first time they had interacted without any hostility. And during an Order operation of all things. Even stranger, he indicated that he more or less agreed with what she said to the Snake Charmer portrait, and with what the Order was doing.
"How's your Occlumency?" he asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
Malfoy didn't beat around the bush. She was glad to have secured a teacher, and could confidently say she was improving. But his question would have more urgency since the student evacuation. If she had been captured at Hogwarts and someone thought it necessary to look through her memories, he'd be tortured and killed.
"I have a mentor. It's difficult, but I'm getting better."
Malfoy turned on his side to face her. He nearly took up the entire length of her bed. "Boxes?"
She shook her head. "Books."
His eyebrows raised a fraction and a knowing smile creased his face. As if they shared an inside joke together. Hermione Granger the bookworm. Using books to store memories. He was acting… familiar with her.
Something about the way he was stretched out on her bed like that, with his legs extended and his head propped up on his side facing her, created a feeling of friendliness. Even intimacy. And he was smiling at her.
Smiling? Smirking? Maybe a half grin?
Kind of. It was odd.
Hermione had never seen him smile before. At least, not at her in a way that wasn't at her or her friends' expense. His sharp grey eyes had a completely different appearance now.
Almost… playful.
She tilted her head, silently appraising him for a few moments. Hermione wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of his friendship instead of his hostility.
Malfoy was considerably less angry from the last time they had met. In fact, he wasn't angry at all. He was pensive. She didn't know how to process interactions with him that weren't aggressive and antagonistic. She didn't know what to make of him this way at all.
Hermione thought it was a good chance to build upon the changed dynamic between them. "Thank you, Malfoy."
He looked puzzled. "For what?"
"Hogwarts. Without your help, we would have been forced to abandon that child."
He snorted in derision and dropped his gaze to the floor.
"He's just a kid."
He seemed uncomfortable. Maybe because of the conversation he had overheard then? It was personal. Even with a cessation of hostilities between them he wouldn't want to discuss his private life with her, especially as it pertained to his struggles in the war.
But she had a purpose for meeting him now.
"Do you know any more members of the Inner Circle?"
"No," he said, staring right back at her. He was lying, she had no doubt. "Dolohov can tell you all of them."
Hermione should have anticipated that reaction, and didn't reply. This was precisely why she contacted him. Because they didn't have Dolohov anymore.
"You killed him," he said, voice lilting upward with faint surprise.
"No, of course not," she retorted defensively. "What do you take us for? Death Eaters?"
He cracked a smile at her jab. Again, the smile of the familiarity of a shared joke. It was weird sharing a joke with him. Two jokes in less than a minute. Even stranger, it was a joke to be shared with someone on the same side of the war instead of on the opposing side. That was good for their prospects of him continuing to work with them in the future.
For a moment, she panicked. She didn't know how to handle this new familiarity with him, and was thrown completely off kilter.
Just as quickly, his smile fell.
"Then why aren't you using him?" Malfoy pressed in an accusatory tone. "You don't need me to answer that question for you."
Hermione didn't reply, still internalizing the way he had smiled at her. But he wanted to know why they needed him for plans they could get from Dolohov. She wasn't sure if she was allowed to give him the reason, but she couldn't come up with a convincing lie. He noticed her hesitation.
"Granger, I'm putting my life on the line here. If you want this arrangement to continue then answer my questions."
Malfoy wasn't angry when he spoke. Not like during their last meeting. He was simply stating the conditions for his participation. Hermione supposed it wouldn't hurt to let him know what happened. If the Order wanted to get any further from where they were stuck right now, they needed to bring in more Inner Circle Death Eaters.
She couldn't run everything she did by Tonks for approval. She needed to make decisions in real time using her own judgement. So Hermione made a decision, hoping she wouldn't regret it.
"Dolohov hung himself with his bedsheets."
Malfoy's eyebrows rose, and the briefest hint of a smug grin appeared. Hermione couldn't believe it. He was happy Dolohov committed suicide. But she shouldn't be surprised, should she? They caught Dolohov when he was torturing Malfoy. Likely, it wasn't the first time.
Her next question would give away the Order's intentions. Tonks had discussed this with her and they both agreed it was a safe bet for now. Just because they had the plans didn't mean they had to attack.
She took a deep breath. "We need estate plans."
His expression was impassive. "Whose?"
"Lestrange, MacNair, Carrow, Rowle, Nott."
The exact names he gave for the Inner Circle. The Order knew more members, but Tonks instructed her not to reveal who else they knew.
Malfoy chewed on his cheek, studying her. After a few moments' consideration he swiveled up to a sitting position on her bed. "Alright then, I'll work on the plans. Who do you want first?"
He would know they were planning raids. Hermione wondered if the news of Dolohov's suicide had incentivized him further to give the plans and aid in their capture.
"Lestrange."
He nodded, as if expecting that answer. "You know the layout won't be enough, there are wards and dark artifacts and fuck all preventing you from getting in."
"If you have anything to add on that subject, we'd appreciate it." Kingsley was going to have his Ministry contacts check records detailing those items as well, to compliment and verify the information Malfoy gave them. "Where is You-Know-Who staying?"
Malfoy leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "How's the pardon coming along?"
She couldn't tell him that Kingsley had flat out refused. Hermione had to give him some hope that Kingsley would change his mind. She hoped that Kingsley would change his mind. And then there was the issue of Malfoy's father. The pardon simply wouldn't happen for him.
Kingsley told her to lie. She had to lie convincingly, and so she'd be vague.
"It's a possibility," Hermione said, playing with an eraser on her desk. It was hard to look Malfoy directly in the eyes when not telling the truth. He'd probably see right through her. "They don't trust you."
"Do you trust me?"
She glanced up and he held her gaze. Intelligent. Piercing. Attractive. She felt a brief pang of guilt from thoughts of Ron. She shouldn't be noticing Malfoy's eyes. Or anything else about him.
Hermione scoffed, as if he asked her if she believed in Wrackspurts. "Of course not. But I think the information will be worth it."
He leaned back, considering her answer. "Fair enough, Granger."
oooooooooooooooo
Draco laid out a roll of parchment on Granger's desk. He didn't want to be caught drawing up plans for the manors and estates of those in the Inner Circle. Coming to her Muggle home enabled him to work without interruption or fear of being caught. He brought some parchments, ink and quills and hid them in the guest room so she wouldn't notice during their meetings.
There was some comfort working in her room. It was quiet. It was still. It was a completely different world. One without death, torture, rape or fear. He wouldn't wish his existence on anyone. Thinking back to their meeting, he couldn't believe she thanked him for helping her get that kid out.
What kind of monster did she take him for?
Maybe he was. He let his aunt and Greyback into Hogwarts, hadn't he?
At Granger's house, Draco disappeared from all the horror. At least, temporarily. Again, his thoughts travelled to Granger's Obliviated parents and her refusal to go into hiding with them.
He had been coming here periodically even before he started working on the plans. A few hours here and there to explore more of her house, the gadgets in it, and the books as well.
Muggles confused him.
For all intents and purposes, they were inferior. They didn't have magic; it was as simple as that. But he couldn't argue with the fact that Muggles had found brilliant replacements and workarounds for many of the things wizarding society used magic for and took for granted.
And while wizards and witches used magic to do things that Muggles couldn't, Muggles performed feats that boggled his mind. Small, innocuous items like the writing sticks at Granger's desk which didn't require constant ink dipping, and achievements that pushed the limits of his imagination. Like sending probes to the far reaches of their solar system, or growing replacement organs from cells extracted from women's reproductive systems and grown in a laboratory.
Muggles were brilliant.
But inferior.
Because they didn't have magic.
Draco still didn't feel quite right with his conclusion.
After finishing up some details on the estate plans, he set his quill down and rolled up the parchment. He stood up and stretched, surveying her room. There was a curved grey box connected by a cord to the wall that he had been curious about. He had been able to figure out what most of the items in her room were used for, but not that one. He crouched down in front of it. By now he had learned that buttons labelled 'power' were used to turn electronic devices on and off. When he pressed 'eject' a black square with an open circle slid out towards him, and back in if he pressed it again. But none of the other buttons made anything happen.
Draco had searched her room multiple times in previous visits for some clues but none were apparent. There was a pile of thin plastic squares with different images on them, stacked next to the device. However, he couldn't find any apparent connection to the device aside from proximity. He had been through that stack before and made a mess of it. Various pictures of men and women with seemingly no relation to each other. On the back, always a numbered list of phrases.
He didn't understand what they were for. Some had pictures of people playing musical instruments, or of conductors of orchestras, indicating that they had something to do with music. But he didn't understand what exactly. Draco was nearly positive the plastic squares had something to do with the device and it was infuriating that he hadn't figured out what yet. He picked up one of the plastic squares and after prying the edge with his fingernail, wary of breaking it, discovered that it opened up.
That was new.
Elated, he wondered if this was the answer to the puzzle that had plagued him for the past few weeks. Inside was a shiny circle. He extracted the circle, and nearly whooped out loud when it fit perfectly in the device. He waited until the curved grey box stopped humming, and then pressed 'play.'
Draco closed the plastic square and studied the unmoving picture. Four blokes walking across a street, nothing particularly interesting about that. They resembled the bums that frequented Knockturn Alley. He flipped the plastic square over and furrowed his brow.
If Muggles were so smart, why would they misspell 'The Beetles?'
chapter end notes:
Yes, he's looking at the CD for Abbey Road. :)
Also, in case it wasn't obvious, I love reviews. You all make writing so much fun! One of the highlights of the pandemic for me is a fresh bunch of emails in my inbox after I post a chapter so don't be shy! You all are awesome!
