Chapter 3

DCOD- Aww, thank you! Although you probably shouldn't hold your breath on the mission part (although I think it's pretty clear), but all will be revealed!

On another note, I really do hope you like this chapter, it was the product of A LOT of willpower to write, but I quite like this chapter, however short.

First Warning! -Use of the F word, twice by Draco (Sorry Krystal!)

On to the chapter!

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Draco didn't miss the look of disgust on Weasel's mother's face. He noted the exact way her blue eyes narrowed, the slight grimace to the hard line of her mouth. He mentally recorded the way her nostrils flared as she stepped out of the doorway, her steps broad and quick. Was she still bitter after what he had done to her child?

'We don't have all day, and I'm not sure I would allow you in here for such even if we did.'

Ouch. Definitely harbouring some grudges there.

Potter casually stepped in front of him, a cordial smile pasted onto his face.

'Good afternoon Mrs. Weasley. I have come to you with some new information that my associates found,'—Draco scoffed, before being silenced by a harsh glare from Potter, to which he promptly sneered at—'It concerns Hermione.'

Mrs. Weasley's face softened, if just perceptibly, and she gestured to allow them in, her eyes settling on Draco's face. She was glaring at him, something a miniature Draco had been perfecting since his eleventh birthday. She stared, unblinking; face hard as marble, directly into Draco's eyes, narrowing them as she reached his pupils. It was designed to have a man stronger than himself cowering in his steps. Luckily for him, he was immune.

He managed, but not without extreme personal restraint, to pass the fierce, rounded woman before entering the hovel the Weasley's (at least the more senior ones) called their living quarters. He had seen better dwellings advertised in the Quibbler.

He ignored the empty atmosphere of the house, one that suggested that no one had lived there in a lifetime. It was almost scary, how much their kind had evolved since the war, one that had not yet been resolved. It was almost sickening to see Potter's face, the deadness in his eyes. The almost ready acceptance of this fate—how he had tried his hardest, and that it wasn't Draco's fault Potter was dead inside. He had tried; hadn't let Potter lose. Of course, he hadn't let him win either.

Draco allowed himself to be shepherded around this house like a sheep, if only to find the secret of what had happened to his Hermione.

'So you see Mrs. Weasley, this is our predicament. Draco and myself have managed to decode two of the pages, but a password must be provided for us to reach a suitable conclusion. We would like to conduct an experiment—if you wish, to read Hermione's diary.' Potter's voice cracked as he said her name. Draco sneered. What meaning did she have to him?

'Well, Harry, maybe it is best to simply leave it alone.' Mrs. Weasley cast a worried glance at Potter; Draco held his breath. Harry's face housed a brief flash of bewilderment, before retreating into its lifeless shell.

'Mrs. Weasley,' Draco interjected smoothly, coughing a bit before resuming his speech. 'I assure you that researching Hermione's diary is of utmost importance. For after all, she may have held information in her diary pertaining to Zabini, and Voldemort's reincarnation as the—' He was abruptly cut off.

'If Hermione has placed so many charms upon something so simple as a diary, then maybe…she didn't want you to read it? Did you ever stop to consider that?' Potter was spluttering with indignation, the look on his face expressing his dislike with the situation. Once more, Draco felt the need to interject.

'Mrs. Weasley, it has become apparent to us, that Hermione Granger's safety is no longer under your control. She has died, and there is no avoiding this fact.' The simplicity of this statement stopped the breath in Mrs. Weasley's throat.

'Very well, Malfoy, you have convinced me. I know now that I will never aid you, at all.' With a lightning-fast whorl she pointed a hazel wand at his throat. Draco saw Potter approaching her from the corners of his left eye.

"Now, now Molly, there is no worry. Just stay calm, and everything will be alright. Just remain silent, allow us to question you, it will all be so, so easy…" Draco turned his head slightly. What the bleeding hell was Potter doing?

"That's right Molly. Just remove the wand, there's a good witch, now I will count backwards from ten, and you will do your best to cooperate, won't you dearest? Lovely. 10—" Draco started angrily.

"Potter, what the devil are you—"

"9—"

"I'm serious, coercing people is not allowed!"

"8—"

"Potter! Merlin's balls, Harry!"

"7, 6, 5, 4, 3—"

"For God's sakes, stop!"

"2, 1." Mrs. Weasley opened her murky blue eyes, a dreamlike stupor descending over her features.

"Right. Let's go Molly, tell us something about 'Mione." Draco couldn't fucking believe the gall Potter had. The Aducco was a talent for which only the very gifted and fortunate wizards such as Potter (ugh) managed to possess. The very act of blind obedience, almost the Imperio, but it took a lot more than willpower to break the hold on one's mind. Potter had just used the Aducco on his own best friend's damned mother. Draco just held in a retch. Potter was a highly unstable individual.

"Well, Harry dear, Hermione never let word slip about a diary, of course, the silly girl probably had little time to bother with her life, anyway, eh?" Mrs. Weasley let out such a girlish giggle that Draco was having difficulty keeping the contents of his stomach in. Oh, ew.

"Actually, Harry, you might want to consult Ginny's diary on this. Silly child seemed to want nothing more to do than write down her little nonsensicalities with her little book. Imagine!" Mrs. Weasley's smile grew strained her eyes deeply intent upon an object three inches to the left of Draco's head.

"Molly, do you know where Ron is?" Harry's condescending smile was so cruel that even Draco, notorious taunter of children and First Years felt revolted.

"Well, no, dearie, but you can always try to send him a Wand Message. Heaven knows our Ron answers his wand. Is that all?" Draco could tell that the Aducco was wearing off. The hardness was back in her eyes, and the jaw was beginning to set.

"Thanks very much Molly. Do you know where Ginny's diary is?" Potter feigned a charming smile.

"Can't rightly say I do, possibly wouldn't tell you if I didn't." Draco stepped back suddenly. If Potter knew what was good for him, then he would just goddamned leave.

"Potter—" Draco warned.

"Alright, thanks very much Molly. But first, Draco is going to cast a relaxing spell on you. Nothing serious, I assure you!" Potter's Aducco was not working as well as he might've liked. Mrs. Weasley was pulling forth her wand once more. Draco quickly sprang into action.

"Obliviate!" With a complicated flick of the wrist, Draco removed himself and Potter from Mrs. Weasley's memory.

"Somnus." The woman's eyelids eased shut, as Draco and Harry were wiped from her memory.

Harry took a deep breath.

"Let's go, Malfoy, before you strike me dumb with your questions." Draco opened his mouth and then closed it abruptly. Damned bugger was right again.

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Dear Diary,

It's becoming more and more difficult to write here, especially as the more I scribe, the closer Voldemort gets to finding out…especially with Zabini as his new target! Poor, poor Imeld, he was such a sweet boy—I find myself remembering my old diary, and can't help but wonder what became of it! Imagine if it had been discovered, and I were forced to bear the consequences. I can only imagine the repercussions of it falling into the wrong hands—mainly Draco's. I should fear for my life!

Irrevocably Yours,

Hermione

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Was the aducco spell kind of weird here? In italian, Adduco means persuade, but Aducco (ah-dOO-cho) sounded better here. Like, it, hate, it, could stomach...tell me!

As always,

Peaches,

Anya

P.S. Happy belated birthday to me!!