Je ne sais quoi
Rating: PG for the moment
Genre: Drama
Warnings: None.
Summary: And now it seems like it's just one thing after another. But maybe they're getting close to some answers. Or maybe Hermione is getting an awful headache. A headache named Malfoy.
Chapter 4: Toil and trouble.
The sun was beginning to set, streaking the sky with shades of plum and fuchsia. The business district end of Diagon Alley was almost empty. There were only a couple of witches and wizards in severely cut robes leaving the stately buildings to disappear with a pop. A few stood in line in front of the Portkey station.
Soft echoes of sounds drifted from far down the Alley.
For a Sunday, this could be considered crowded and loud.
Then things really got crowded and loud as the Mason building crackled and exploded, spewing chunks of brick and broken spells all over the sidewalk. A wizard fell out of a window on the top floor, smacking into the ground with a meaty thunk and one of the women in the Portkey line began to keen in shock. Flames licked up from the ground. Even the stone gargoyles seemed to be on fire.
It only took several seconds for the Auror teams to begin Apparating in. They quickly herded remaining people away from the disaster and water spells arced at the flames in brilliant shocks of blue.
"Greengrass, open the fuck up." The voice was unrecognizable through the strangely messed up Floo and the flames were transmitting a distorted blur where the face should have been. Daphne and Hermione set their wands at ready and Daphne flicked open the connection.
Two people tumbled through.
"This wasn't what I had in mind when I told Scott to schedule a meeting," Antigone said dryly. The slight witch looked grim, her face smudged with soot that served to outline her furious indigo eyes.
"Daph, be a doll and get me a butterbeer," Theo groaned and pulled himself to his feet. He slumped onto the blue velvet couch, dirty and ragged, looking distinctly out of place in the dark wood and jewel toned room.
Daphne cast only a quick look at the two of them before rushing out.
"What happened?" Hermione asked.
"You mean why do we look like war refugees?" Antigone rephrased. She stood and studied her torn shirt, blood seeping scarlet-bright on a canvas of pale skin and dark ash between the jagged edges of the fabric. She winced slightly as she examined herself with careful fingertips. "It's a good question really. And I don't like that I don't know the answer."
"Oh," Hermione said.
"I'm sure you intend on finding out as soon as possible and leave a distinct path of slaughter in your wake," Theo said.
"I happen to have a sincere lack of appreciation for having my employees killed and my building destroyed, not to mention being forced to climb through on my hands and knees to an underground safe-room while dismantling a few dozen complicated spells, half of which are aimed at killing me," Antigone replied.
Hermione's mouth opened slightly. She wasn't quite sure how seriously to take Antigone but she knew the former Slytherin never lied. Still, how could she be so... calm...
Daphne came back in with a silver platter cluttered with potions, fire whiskey and several goblets. She set it down and sighed. "You know where the showers are and I have some of your clothing in the guest garderobe. Drink up, clean up and get back here because it looks like we really need to talk."
As Theo and Antigone did as told, for once, Daphne and Hermione sat down on the couch and looked at each other.
"Is it just me or does this seem like an awfully convenient coincidence?" asked Daphne.
"Well, let's see. WPR is staging a massive PR campaign, apparently entitled Oh Woe is Purebloods. Something fishy is going on in Asia. And one of the most powerful players in international, political arena, the one who has been steadily working on various social injustices since the War ended has been taken out of commission. I don't know what to call it but I'd say we're in trouble," Hermione summed up.
"You forgot Etienne 'Poster Boy' Zabini," Daphne added. "Not to mention our dear old Minister throwing us to the proverbial wolves at the first sign of trouble." She sighed.
Hermione wrinkled her forehead, a thought flittering around the edge of her mind, just out of reach. Then the thought got knocked out clean as a musical tone signaled someone at the door.
Daphne headed to open it, Hermione right behind her, and both were stunned at the identity of the visitor.
"It's lovely to see you two again," Malfoy said. He leaned against the side of the door-frame casually, an eyebrow quirking at the witches' continued silence. "Well, Greengrass, are you going to let me in or have you been completely infected with Granger's plebeian manners?"
"What do you want?" Daphne demanded suspiciously.
He grinned, an expression at once imperious and infectious for its rarity. "Actually I want to talk to the Windemere bint," he replied. "I figured she'd head here."
Hermione grabbed Daphne's elbow just a second too late as the witch pressed her wand under Malfoy's chin.
"What do you know?" Daphne asked darkly, pressing the wand tip harder into his flesh.
He grimaced and raised his hands palms forward in a universal gesture of surrender. "I heard her office got burned down and I wanted to talk to her. It wasn't a hard guess that she'd come here. It was either here or that Gryffindor's place and she would never endanger her future god-baby."
Hermione held out her hand. "Your wand."
As he hesitated, Daphne's expression darkened and her hand nudged forward insistently. Finally he reached into his voluminous cloak and withdrew his wand, gingerly placing it on Hermione's palm. "Here you are, milady." He sketched out a slight bow, his mouth twisted into a faint, one-sided grin.
Hermione blinked in confusion and pocketed the magical tool. As Malfoy proceeded into the house, Hermione studied his profile. There was something off here. He wasn't acting normally. Unconsciously, she began to rub her right hand against her pants. The hand he had previously kissed.
As Malfoy took his first step into the sitting room, Hermione caught sight of Antigone, who immediately spun around, her wand appearing out of some mysterious holster and pointing at the wizard.
"You were always quick to trigger," Malfoy commented with disdain.
"And you always looked better afterwards," Antigone replied with a malicious expression. "Maybe you need a refresher. I could set you on fire again," she offered.
"I have his wand," Hermione said quickly. "He's no danger."
Antigone snorted.
"Okay kids," Theo said. "Why don't we all sit down, have some tea and find out why His Annoying Highness has chosen to grace us with his presence."
As Daphne's house elf, Alda, served the tea and crumpets, a tense silence settled over the room. Malfoy was the only one who was totally at ease. Daphne and Hermione sent quick looks at each other as Theo kept a hand on Antigone's shoulder, who sat at the edge of her seat, her Auror background readily apparent in her position. When Alda left, Hermione coughed slightly and Daphne nodded.
"What do you want Malfoy?" Hermione asked.
For the first time in Hermione's memory, his aristocratic features tensed into a serious expression. "We didn't do it," he said.
Silence and confusion followed his statement.
"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked.
"The Mason building. WPR isn't responsible," he said. He laced his fingers together deliberately, in what seemed like stalling. "I came here because not only did we not do it, but I think someone is trying to frame us. And... there might be something else going on."