Shades of Grey
*Read the a/N at the end, please!
Chapter Three: Mr. and Mrs. Wilson
"My nearest and dearest enemy."
- Thomas Middleton
Hermione had convinced herself it wasn't going to be all that dreadful. Really, it was just Malfoy! Sure, he had the tendency to make unnecessary remarks and get her blood boiling quicker than any other being she knew, but…but he was certainly no real threat. Nothing Hermione couldn't handle on her own, at the very least. And really, this mission was for the greater good of humanity, and she was quite certain that it would be better to deal with Malfoy's stubbornness and childish insults for an extended period of time than to risk someone like Bellatrix Lestrange rising to power.
That didn't mean she had to be particularly pleased with it, however.
"Hermione?" Came the persistent voice of Ginny Weasley, and the bushy-haired Golden Trio member snapped herself from her thoughts, turning to look at her ginger-haired friend sheepishly.
"I'm sorry, what?" Hermione asked, her brows furrowed together slightly.
"I said," Ginny began again, sounding slightly exasperated. Given her tone of voice, Hermione suspected that Ginny had been attempting to get her friend's attention for the past few minutes. The embarrassment from recognizing this caused Hermione to slide further into the rickety chair she was seated at in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place, waiting for her friend to continue. "That's all I need to know about watching after Crookshanks, right?"
"Oh, yes! One cup of food a day—he's getting a bit too heavy, and I'm trying to watch his meal intake—and let's see, what else…ah! Crooks doesn't like thunderstorms, so he might be a bit testy during the horrid ones that come this time of year, and aside from that he's really not that difficult to look after, I promise!" Hermione exclaimed breathlessly, ticking the items off on her hand and licking her lips. She made a mental note to thank Ginny for doing this for her later—perhaps she'd knit her friend a scarf or something of the like when she returned!
"Alright," Ginny replied, nodding her head. She made to sit down next to Hermione at the table, but a swift knock at the front door that resounded through the house distracted her, and the youngest of the Weasleys exited the room promptly in favor of answering the door.
Hermione looked around the kitchen of the Order Headquarters idly, drumming her fingers against the wooden tabletop. She suppressed the urge to yawn, bitterly recognizing that—thanks to packing, worrying and harboring negative thoughts about her new mission partner—Hermione hadn't gotten much sleep the night before.
Deciding that a cup of coffee seemed to be the most logical option at this point, Hermione stood up from her place at the table and walked across the room to where the coffee maker resided. Having grown up in a Muggle household, Hermione much rather preferred brewing beverages herself than making them by magic—it tasted different somehow, and she'd swear so until her dying day.
She rooted around in the cabinets, mumbling in irritation under her breath that someone had yet again screwed up the organization system she had set up for the items in the kitchen. By the time she'd finally located the canister of coffee and had scooped out enough for a pot, she heard footsteps and the mumbling of multiple voices approaching.
The door leading to the kitchen swung open, and Hermione turned around to see Ginny leading none other than Neville Longbottom into the room. Hermione beamed at him, waving as she stood by the counter, and Neville gave a shy sort of wave in return. While he had certainly grown out of the excessively-introverted and shy demeanor he'd had during their years together at Hogwarts, Neville still had his shy moments. They were like his quirks, almost.
"Hello, Neville, how are things at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked in as cheery a manner as she could manage, turning around and grabbing the empty pot, filling it with water and pressing the button on the machine to brew the coffee. Neville shifted from one foot to the other awkwardly, and Hermione noticed a few scrolls were clutched in his hand. Turning back to face him, she eyed the plethora of parchment warily, one brow arched.
"Hello, Hermione," Neville responded, walking over to the kitchen table and setting the papers down. He exhaled slightly, brushing his hands against his trousers and turning to face her again. "Hogwarts is great—been working with Professor Sprout every day in Herbology; she says she thinks she might be able to help me get a job once she retires!"
"Neville, that's fantastic!" Hermione exclaimed, genuinely happy for her friend. Neville, of all people, deserved to have the job once Professor Sprout retired—he'd worked so hard at the class for as long as she'd known him. Ginny smiled warmly, moving to take a seat at the kitchen table. Hermione watched as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail before turning her attention back to Neville, still curious as to what the papers still scattered across the kitchen table were.
"What are those, Neville?" She asked, pointing to them and tugging her lips into a slight frown. She turned around, flicking the switch on the coffee maker to turn it off and standing on the tips of her toes, reaching for a green mug in in the cabinet. Pulling it down, Hermione grabbed the pot by the handle and poured herself a steaming cup of coffee, waiting for Neville to speak.
"Well, they're some scrolls Harry's asked me to pick up," Neville explained, and she heard the scooting of a chair against the flooring of the kitchen, and could tell that Neville had taken a seat. Hermione nodded slowly, still unsure as to what he was getting at as she rummaged for some sugar. Finding the small glass container filled with the sugar crystals, she set it down on the counter and walked over to the refrigerator, opening it wide and pulling out the cream saucer that was always kept on the second shelf of the fridge and—oh, blast! Someone had moved it, as well! Growing irritated that no one could seem to put things back in their bloody place, Hermione spotted the white china that held the cream at the back of the fridge's bottom shelf and snatched it angrily, shutting the door with a thud and walking back to her mug of coffee.
"Yes?" Hermione asked breathlessly, urging for him to continue as she began to prepare her cup just the way she liked it. An equal amount of cream and sugar had always been the trick, in her opinion—it was like a routine to her.
"Well, after hearing that Bellatrix was on the rise again—" Neville spat the woman's name as though it were toxic, and Hermione's heart ached for him—poor Neville, having to put up with the woman who'd ruined his parents' lives being alive was one thing, but knowing she was gaining power again was even worse. "—Harry asked me to check the archives in the Restricted Section. Did y'know they've got files stored back there of where the most infamous Death Eaters were located during both the first and second Wizarding Wars? Their known hideouts, how active they were, things of the sort."
Hermione did not, in fact, know this, and the shock shone on her features. There was something in the library she hadn't been aware of? She almost felt disappointed in herself. Placing the sugar and cream away, Hermione grasped her mug by the handle and shuffled over to the table, her brows still knit together as she sat down by Neville.
"What does it say about Lestrange?" Ginny asked, leaning over and grabbing one of the scrolls. She opened it, looking over the document and reading to herself as Neville rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. Hermione blew on her steaming mug of coffee, the warmth radiating from the mug sending a delicious shudder of content down her spine.
"It gives a lot of background information about what kind of person she is—things we all know, really," Neville explained, placing his hands palm down on the table. "It also explains her most…favorite hiding spots. I figured you and Malfoy could probably use it; check those places first in case she's already gotten what you both need."
"Thank you, Neville," Hermione said with a nod, taking another sip of her beverage. She leaned over, reaching for the parchment and was beginning to place them in the charmed bag she'd packed for herself on the table when she heard the front door open and slam shut. Neville winced, Ginny sighed, and Hermione rolled her eyes.
Malfoy was here.
Hermione heard his determined steps as he made his way into the kitchen, and she groaned inwardly. There was no more hope that Harry might've changed his mind—Malfoy was here and there was no turning back. She'd have to complete this damn mission with him, and if he—
Suddenly the kitchen door swung open and Draco strolled in, his scowl transforming into a delighted smirk when he noticed the other three occupants of the room.
"Schlongbottom, when'd you get here? Shouldn't you be at Hogwarts, fucking a Mandrake or something?" He inquired, walking further into the kitchen and past the trio seated at the table. Neville scowled and muttered something crude under his breath about the Malfoy Heir. Ginny snickered, bending over the piece of parchment she still had before her.
"He came to give us helpful information for our mission, Malfoy, there's no need to be so crude," Hermione snapped, feeling her face flush with anger. Honestly! It was as if he thought he could just treat anyone however the hell he wanted! Hermione heard him scowl and grit her teeth in response, angrily stuffing the pieces of parchment into her bag and clasping it shut, heaving an aggravated sigh. She heard Draco rummaging through the cupboard, followed by the sound of him pouring himself a cup of coffee. Hermione picked up her own mug and took a gulp, the hot liquid practically scalding her throat.
Draco sauntered over to the table, sitting down opposite from Hermione and leaning back, bringing his mug to his lips and taking a sip. He sputtered in response, his nose crinkling in disgust as he set the mug down.
"Who the fuck made this?" He demanded, jabbing an index finger towards the cup. Hermione jutted her chin forward, her hazel eyes blazing as she stared him down.
"I did," She responded coolly.
"It tastes like shit."
"Then why don't you make the damn coffee, then?"
"Well clearly I couldn't have made the coffee, Granger, I only just got here and was welcomed by this pathetic attempt at coffee that tastes like Weasley spat in it."
"Don't talk about my brother that way!" Ginny interjected, her brows furrowing together in anger.
"Oh, look now, Granger, you've gone and upset the Weaslette; now she's going to suck my soul out and harvest it for her own," Draco spat in exasperation, slumping back in his chair and lacing his hands together.
"You have to own a soul in order for someone to steal it, Malfoy," Hermione spat, and Ginny rolled her eyes before standing and leaving the room, detaching herself from the situation at hand. Neville, not wanting to be caught in the middle of another one of their fights, followed after her, leaving the serpent and the lion alone.
"Wonderful insult, Granger," Draco spat, shoving away from his seat and standing. He leaned over the table, and not wanting to feel inferior, Hermione did the same, their faces close together. His breath was hot on her face and he gave a low hiss, causing Hermione to roll her eyes.
"Honestly, you sound like an animal making those noises," She hissed in return, her lips twitching into a scowl.
"At least I don't look like one."
"Oh, very mature, Malfoy! I suppose you find yourself so damn clever and funny that you—"
Hermione was cut off from snipping out a heated reply to his insult by the sound of Harry clearing his throat. Both Draco and Hermione fell silent, their breathing labored as they angrily glared at one another. Harry crossed the room and stood between them, glaring at them with a sort of disappointment that pained Hermione, but more than likely didn't affect Draco at all. Knowing him, he was probably inwardly pleased that he'd upset Harry. The git.
"What is it, Potter?" Draco snapped, finally pulling away. Hermione relaxed, pulling back as well and turning to face Harry, forcing him a feigned smile. He didn't return the sentiment, instead rubbing the back of his neck and sighing.
"I don't want the two of you to take this mission lightly—" Hermione shook her head, making move to protest and claim that she wasn't going to, but Harry gave her a look that silenced her immediately. "—I know that neither one of you like the other, trust me, and that it's not going to be easy, but this is bigger than the two of you. Suck up your differences for as long as it takes to find the Hallows, get back here, and then you can go back to ripping each other's heads off. This is a mission, and I want it to be treated as such."
"Of course, Harry," Hermione said in a rush, nodding her head fervently, which in turn caused her curls to bounce around her face wildly. She heard Draco snort at her, but decided to ignore him for now. "We'll keep you updated, and work on finding the Hallows. I promise." She gave her friend a small smile, and this time Harry returned the affection. He then turned to Malfoy, waiting expectantly.
"Don't worry, Potter, we'll take care of it," He answered coolly, and Hermione noted that it was perhaps the most mature he'd acted about this situation since first hearing of it the day before. She felt herself unhinge slightly and moved to grab her bag, snatching it off the table and holding it close.
"Hermione, did Neville give you the scrolls from the Restricted Section?"
"He did, yes—thank you, Harry, I'm sure they'll help immensely."
"Whoa, hold the fuck up here…what scrolls?" Draco demanded, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the both of them. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes, allowing Harry to answer for fear of exploding on the pale-haired arse again.
"Neville retrieved some scrolls with information on Bellatrix's most infamous qualities—her hide-outs, her history, etc."
"What's the point in giving these to us if we're just looking for the Hallows?"
"It doesn't hurt to keep a look-out for her—you could easily walk into a trap she's got set up if you stumble across one of these hide-outs. It's more like a…a method of precaution for you and Hermione."
Draco merely nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Hermione's gaze flickered back and forth between the two of them, and when she was certain that neither one of them were going to speak again, she cleared her throat and spoke up.
"We really need to get a move on, Malfoy. I've booked us a room at a Muggle inn in Dublin to start with—under assumed names, of course—and I figure we can rest there tonight and get a move on early tomorrow morning."
"Wait…did you say a room? As in one?"
Hermione shifted awkwardly on her feet, clutching her purse tighter and clearing her throat. Oh, Merlin—so he'd noticed.
"Yes, well I—I just…I couldn't get us two rooms, alright? They were completely booked, Merlin! Just deal with it, Malfoy!" She snapped, her cheeks flushing red. She heard Draco mutter something under his breath, but she could make out little else other than, "Granger" and "frigid bitch". She doubted there was much else to the insult.
"Alright, let's just get this the fuck over with, then," Draco grumbled, pulling out his wand. Hermione nodded stiffly, reaching her hand out hesitantly. Draco scowled at the gesture but roughly jerked her arm in his own, rolling his eyes once for effect.
"Be careful, you two," was Harry's parting words, and with that, they were gone. The pull of Apparation tugged uncomfortably behind Hermione's navel, and she felt nauseas as she and Malfoy were thrown through time and space from the comfort of 12 Grimmauld Place to an alleyway in Dublin. Once they'd successfully landed, Hermione staggered slightly, pulling herself free from Draco's grip. The muggy August air slapped her in the face, and Hermione stepped into a puddle, the water sloshing around her ankle. She blinked twice, adjusting to the dim surroundings and peering for Malfoy in the dark. It shouldn't be too hard to find him, right? His pale skin should be detectable damn near anywhere.
She found him a few feet over, and made to walk over to him, making sure she still had her purse with her. He seemed to be looking around, and upon his silver eyes finding hers, he gave a gruff grunt, and Hermione raised her brows so as to inquire what he wanted. Realizing that she was the one in charge of locating their room for them, she kept her head down and her cheeks burned red. She stormed past him, peering out into the street before stepping out, noting that other than a few cars passing by on the road and the occasional couple strolling by on the sidewalk, this part of the city was mostly vacant of all people at the present time.
Hermione located the inn almost immediately—a small and quaint sort of building with a sign that indicated they were completely full. Sighing in relief, she walked inside the hotel, Draco hot on her heels. Hermione strolled through the small lobby, which she noted had a very homey appeal, before approaching the counter. She set her bag on the countertop, rummaging through it for the fake identification cards she'd made, smiling at the blonde-haired receptionist.
"I have a reservation for two, please," Hermione said sweetly, holding the cards in her hands and glancing around the establishment once. The woman pulled out a thick binder, opening it up and staring at Hermione expectantly.
"Name, please?"
"Wilson—Ian and Jane Wilson," Hermione breathed, holding out the I.D. cards for the woman to inspect. Once she had finished checking their cards for validation and sorted through the giant binder in front of her to check their names off the list, she smiled at Hermione and handed her back her cards.
"Alright, Mrs. Wilson, you and your husband's room is located in 27C—third floor, and it should be on the right. The lift is located in a corridor branched off the lobby, and your check-out time is extended to two tomorrow afternoon." She handed Hermione two room keys, which the Witch gladly took, trying not to wretch in utter repulsion at the fact that she had just been referred to as Malfoy's wife. Bloody disgusting.
After bidding the woman a goodnight, Hermione turned around and saw Draco's face contorted into slight disgust. Ah, so he was just as repulsed by the woman's assumption as she was. Hermione grunted a muffled, "This way" to Draco, clutching her bag close and walking through the lobby, the Malfoy Heir hot on her heels. She located the lift with ease, jabbing the button in aggravation and waiting for the elevator to screech down to the first floor. The doors opened, and she and Draco stepped inside before Hermione punched the button indicating it belonged to the third floor. She tapped her foot impatiently, practically pressing herself against the far corner of the elevator so as to put as much room between herself and Malfoy as possible, all the while insulting him in her mind.
"You're acting as jittery as a damn Chihuahua, calm the fuck down," Draco grumbled, moving to step off the lift as it came to an abrupt halt. Hermione glared at the back of his head as she followed him, wondering whether or not it would be an intelligent idea to whack him upside the head with her purse. The bag did contain several items that could be considered heavy, and—and no, no, she was going to be the mature one here.
Walking down the narrow corridor, Hermione located their room and swiped the key card, once again breathing in relief when the door slid open with ease for her. She walked inside, Malfoy following, and heard the door click behind them. She stumbled through the dark room, flipping on the switch and feeling her body relax immensely upon discovering that there was, in fact, two beds in the room.
"Thank Merlin," She whispered, moving inside and taking her shoes off. She placed them neatly next to the door, and turned around to find Draco half-heartedly kicking his shoes off. She shook her head in disapproval, walking over to the bed closest to the window and setting her bag down. She opened it, rummaging through the sack until she located a pair of pajama shorts and a shirt to match. Satisfied with her selection, she turned around and stopped short when she saw Malfoy empty his pockets, setting a shrunken trunk down on the bed and moving to pull his cotton t-shirt off his head, his pale torso becoming exposed to her gaze. Feeling very much as though she were staring at him naked, Hermione flushed and cast her gaze down at the ground, refusing to glance at the lean expanse of his toned chest.
"Malfoy, put some clothes on!" She shrieked, staring down at the bundle of clothing in her hands.
"It's just my chest, Granger, calm down," He spat in response, and out of her peripheral vision she saw him throw his shirt on the bed. "It's not like I'm walking around with my dick hanging out."
Hermione forced herself to lift her gaze, her eyes locking onto his.
"There's no need to be so vulgar, Malfoy," She said, the redness in her cheeks growing progressively worse. "Now I—I'm going to change into some decent clothes and you just…you just stay here."
"Alright, Granger, go put your grannie nightgown on," He snickered as she brushed past him, and Hermione gave a short growl in return. She stomped to the bathroom, nearly slamming the door shut behind her before remembering that they were staying in a public location. Closing the door, she glanced at herself once in the mirror, noting how tense she seemed already. She tugged at her cheeks for a moment before sighing, deciding that Malfoy would do no good to her health and scrambling to change into her pajamas. Once she had done so, she pulled her curly hair up into a bun and exited the bathroom, her dirty clothes bunched in her arms. Walking across the room, she saw that Malfoy was perched on the bed, leaning against the headboard with the lower portion of his body safely tucked underneath the covers.
"Please tell me you at least had the decency to keep your pants on," Hermione snapped, half-worried of his response. She glanced at him once, noting—begrudgingly, of course—that he had a rather nice upper build…for a slimy git, anyways.
"As much as it would please you to see otherwise, I'm afraid to disappoint and claim that yes, my trousers are still very much on," Draco drawled with a shrug. Hermione busied herself by stuffing her clothes into her bag, licking her lips and refraining from making a comment. She tied her bag closed and set it on the nightstand next to her own bed before she began to neatly place the pillows on the side of the bed she would not be occupying, turning the bed down.
"Shit, Granger, do you ever do something without making sure it's done carefully?" Draco asked suddenly, and Hermione straightened, the muscles in her back stiffening. She balled her hands into fists and whipped around, glaring at him.
"I'm just pulling the bed down, Malfoy, for Godric's sake," She snapped back before climbing into bed, throwing the covers over her legs aggressively. Draco snorted in response, and Hermione turned around and beat at her pillow, adjusting it before laying down on it. She reached over and switched the lamp off, enveloping the two in darkness and praying to Merlin that she'd wake up and this would all be some sort of cruel, crazy dream.
"What?" Draco asked suddenly, and Hermione inwardly groaned. "No goodnight kiss? We are, after all, married now, aren't we, Mrs. Wilson?"
"Piss off, Malfoy."
"Who is this Malfoy bloke, Jane dear? Have you been cheating on me?"
Hermione, hissing in aggravation, propped herself up on her elbow and flicked the lamp on again, her heated gaze meeting a very amused Draco Malfoy's.
"Why are you always so damn impossible to deal with?" She spat suddenly, genuinely wondering why he was always such a conceited arse. The amused glimmer in Draco's eyes began to fade, but the smirk on his face remained. He gave a half-hearted shrug before plopping down on the bed and yawning.
"I prefer to look at it as charm, Granger."
"Maybe if you were charming a bloody bimbo, perhaps," Hermione muttered under her breath, lying down again. Draco arched a brow, laying on his side and looking at her, and Hermione decided she didn't wish to fall asleep with Draco bloody Malfoy's face embedded into her mind, so she switched off the lamp again and turned over, determined to ignore him.
"Goodnight, Granger," He snickered, and Hermione huffed in response.
Stupid albino arse—he was going to be the end of her sanity.
a/N: Hello, everyone! I'd like to thank you all for continuing to read this fic—I'm really excited about it, as you can tell, and having people take an interest in it already is great. I just wanted to make an announcement, though—at the beginning of the fic, I stated that it takes place one year and six months after the Battle at Hogwarts. I have, however, changed my mind and went back to edit that statement—it now takes place one year and three months after the Battle, so the fic starts in August rather than November. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and if you could review/PM me or something of the sort and let me know what you guys thought, that'd be great xx!