I don't own Harry Potter- please don't sue me. I have too many student loans for that.
Hermione was dutifully scratching down every word that came out of Draco's mouth like he was giving a world famous speech. She was learning more than she could have ever found in the Ministry library. Pureblood laws were complicated and intricate and they entrapped her attention with a hunger that she had not felt since her beginning years at Hogwarts. The new information was fascinating despite the atrocities that the laws enforced. Despite the allure she felt toward the mosaic of the magic weaved into the legislation, it also meant she had to reverse it- for that she was groaning internally. It seemed she was going to need Malfoy a bit longer after all. Most of the laws could only be broken by a pureblood from the family that wrote them, and as a member of the family that created over half of the laws, Malfoy was her, dare she say, only hope.
Draco was throughly enjoying Granger literally holding on to his every word. It was a rare occasion, so he was going to milk if for all it was worth. He would periodically throw in a sentence or two of absolutely useless information that she would undoubtedly have to sort through later. She now had half of the family history of his house elves and some details about his favourite childhood tales thrown into her research. He honestly believed that she wasn't even listening, just writing as quickly as she could. Yet, she still continued to scribble away ten minutes after his lecture ran dry.
What could she possibly be writing? Granger was so throughly engrossed in what she was doing that she didn't notice him walk behind her to peek at her notes. For how quickly she was writing, her penmanship was neat, orderly, and efficient- not beautiful like the script he was forced to learn as a child, but so entirely Hermione Granger. She was now writing in the margins, connecting concepts with well defined lines, and underlining important bits. It was a front row seat to Granger's thought process, and it was captivating. That is, until he fell motionless on the floor.
-o-
Hermione all of a sudden felt a movement behind her. Panicking, she grabbed her wand in a flash and paralyzed the person behind her. After she scanned the room for more danger, she found Malfoy frozen in a hunched position, lying on the floor behind her chair. "Malfoy? What were you doing behind me?" she inquired as she lifted the jinx.
"Well, I stopped talking half an hour ago. I merely wanted to know what you were writing," he groaned as he rubbed his sore side from hitting the floor. Maybe he was exaggerating the time estimate, but he wanted her to feel guilt for putting him in a very unmanly heap in the ground.
"Oh. Sorry. I just started thinking-" Hermione had begun.
"About how all it would take is a bucket of my blood and loads of hours of time to counter the spells?" Malfoy interrupted arrogantly. "Now, if you don't mind, I have very few hours left in my day I would like to spend some of it working on personal projects." He began to swagger out of the library, and Hermione shoved all of her supplies sloppily in her bag and chased after him. He smirked with pleasure at the knowledge that she was struggling to follow him, and like it or not, she needed him.
"Stupid. Long. Legs," she grumbled as she readied herself to chase after him. "Malfoy! We need to meet again and discuss all of this. We obviously need your help unravelling these," she panted as she caught up. When he did not reply, she huffed, "can you at least tell me the next time I can meet to talk with you again? I don't like this anymore than you do!"
"Owl me," Draco declared, his nose in the air with his best impression of aristocratic hauteur, right before he walked into a random room and slammed the door in Hermione's face. He beamed with satisfaction knowing that he had properly riled her up.
She stomped her foot in her temper and stormed for the door. Letting out a "Ugh!" while she trudged down the stairs, not hearing his soft chuckles behind the closed door. She could barely manage a, "Thank you Dinky!" before she virtually raced off the property and apparated home.
~oo00oo~
Draco breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the front doors slam. Maybe shutting a door in her face was a bit rude, but he couldn't help his natural urge to vex is school rival- he justified. She attacked him, hardly apologized, then began demanding more of his time, who did she think she was? Plus, he had that law on his mind for hours and he needed to sort through his thoughts. When the Minister had contacted him with the request to help one of his employees with pureblood law research, he had no clue that it would lead to this.
"…and the children of such a union are the property of the pureblood to do with as he pleases…chose to keep the child or to kill it…" The line repeated in his mind over and over like a scratched record.
"Dammit."
oo00oo
Hermione sighed and ran her hand through the rats nest she called her hair as she bent over her notes on her desk. "There's something missing. I know it," she obsessed. Her notes were filled annotations and lines connecting ideas. But there was one thing missing. The law required the entirety of the Sacred Twenty eight's blood- a drop from each member and the signature of the Minister of Magic. The laws were bound with layers of spells. But breaking the spells wasn't too difficult. What had Hermione stumped was two things that she believed must be connected, but she had no idea how. To start, each law had a different set of binding spells -this made sense for the protection of the laws. However, there was something about each one that made them seem like tags- identification for... something. Then, there was the missing families from the Sacred Twenty eight. Where did they go? The Rosier and Fawley families didn't seem to participate, as their was no recording of them signing the law, yet it was bound by all members of the group. Incest? The families were known for 'keeping it in the family'- Sirius had always joked about the Black family tree's intertwined branches.
Hermione moaned from mental strain. Maybe she just needed a pint of ice cream and a relaxing bubble bath to get her mind on the back on tract. She padded over to the freezer, just as her hand touched the Rocky Road, when Ron opened the front door. It hit her that she hadn't told him about Malfoy yet, which only meant trouble. She grumbled about not being able to finish her work as she put the ice cream back and walked out to greet her fiancé.
"Hey Mione," Ron smiled brightly. He pulled her into a hug and kissed her briefly before asking, "So, what's for dinner?"
Hermione hesitated. Should she tell him before or after dinner? "Lasagna. It'll be ready soon," she smiled weakly. As soon as she got in the kitchen she pulled out the frozen lasagna Molly sent over last week. The Weasley matriarch had started sending over weekly meals thinking that Ron would "starve" if he only ate Hermione's cooking after he had complained to her about some pasta Hermione made one night. As if a man couldn't live off a single course dinner. Snorting derisively, she shoved the meal in the oven for fifteen minutes- as Molly marked on the top of the container- and went out to chat before supper.
"What's this?" Ron held up her notes with an irritated face. Hermione internally groaned. She knew this was coming, but that never made the fights any easier. His face was pink with barely controlled rage, and she almost turned off the oven knowing that the next hour of her life would be spent in a quarrel. This was a common occurrence since they had began dating, and the reason she had spent many nights sleeping in the guest room at friends' houses.
"My thoughts from an interview on the current law we're trying to abolish," she said simply hoping that he would let it go until he finished eating.
Ron's face started flaming even darker; she could almost see the smoke coming from his ears. "Then why the hell is Malfoy's name on this paper?" Ron gritted through his teeth, clearly very upset.
Hermione took a soothing breath to try to calm down. She knew that no matter her reply, Ron was about to start screaming, but she still tried to sooth his anger with a calm explanation. "Ron, he was the only one that had a library with information on the history of the law," she told him slowly.
"I don't want you anywhere near him, Hermione! Why didn't you tell me about this?" He yelled, stepping close to her and waving her notes around wildly, crumpling her hard work.
Hermione had lost her temper at this point. She was never known to be very patient, and Ron only made her more hot-headed. How dare he ruin her hard work without any consideration for her position! "Ronald, don't you see that I didn't tell you because of this reaction! I had to interview Malfoy because it is apart of my job given to me by the Minister of Magic. I trust that Kingsley would never put me in danger," she shouted back at him, hands on her hips, ready for a fight.
"When it comes to your safety, I sure as hell know better than him! Malfoy is evil! Not to be trusted and Kingsley put you in the same mansion as him, alone. Not to mention you were tortured in the same place by Bellatrix!" Ron nearly screamed the last part and moved so that he was a foot in front of Hermione, violently waving his hands to emphasize his ire at her.
"You don't think I don't remember that every single time I close my eyes? But I handle myself! I know what I need to do and I do it. This law is important to me. Don't you trust that I can handle Malfoy?" she questioned in a low, threatening manner -the tone of voice Ron understood and realized if he put one toe out of line he would be sleeping alone on the doorstep.
"I trust you, I just don't trust him!" Ron argued back. Then, in an act of incredible stupidity that he immediately regretted, he spat out, "I refuse to let you go back!"
Now, that was enough to push Hermione over the edge.
"Ronald Weasley you don't have the right to control me!" she said slapping his arm, her voice slowly getting to menacing. "Did you ever think that I didn't tell you because you would act like a child and get so angry that I couldn't get my work done? If I told you last night you would have kept me up fighting, and if I told you this morning you would have made me late fighting! I'm sick of fighting! And I'm tired of you trying to restrict anything I do that you happen to dislike. Relationships are democracies not dictatorships" Her rant ended just as the kitchen timer began to sound. "Goodnight, Ronald," voiced curtly.
Hermione stormed into their room, brandished her wand and promptly muttered, "Colloportus" right before Ron began to noisily bang on the door to try to get in. She then stuffed her needed toiletries and tomorrow's set of clothes into her beaded bag. Giving herself a second to look around the room, she noted an emptiness that took over her heart at the sight of the state of their quarters. The room was sparsely decorated with only two pictures from their Hogwarts days gracing the walls. Their bed was made, the only embellishment to the plain red duvet being a worn Chudley Canons throw pillow. The room didn't feel right. Hermione let the feeling go when a shout from the other side of the door pulled her from her reverie. She walked toward the door, whispered, "Alohomora", stepped over Ron, who fell to the floor when the door magically unlocked, and strode out the front door without a second glance.
She apparated to Diagon Alley in her angry flourish. She was sick of fighting- she had done enough of that in the war. Upon seeing the alley that always brought a sense of wonder over her, the storm that had built up inside her burnt out and left her with misery. She started unconsciously heading to Flourish and Blotts and didn't even realize where she was until she was already there. Once she was in her sanctuary, she walked along the shelves, tracing spines and softly humming to herself letting all of her negative feelings fall away to the relaxing smell of parchment and ink. She had spent an hour in the store and picked up 5 books along the way, effectively ridding herself of all thoughts related to her fiancé.
On her way to the checkout counter, a flash of white-blonde hair caught her eye. Curiosity getting the better of her, she followed the source until she found a little girl behind a shelf in the back of the store trying to nick a book from the shelf un-noticed. Hermione cleared her throat and the girl almost jumped out of her skin, dropping the book she was about to steal: The Tales of Beedle the Bard. A familiar classic.
Before the girl could run off, Hermione said, "if you really want that book, I have a copy I would be willing to let you have." The offer created a spark in the young girl's blue-grey eyes, but she was obviously still suspicious of Hermione and kept her distance- and silence. "How about you and me just talk? I'll get us some ice cream at Florean Fortescue's," Hermione cajoled. A bright smile overtook the girl's wary features and she nodded vigorously. "Okay, let me pay for these books and we'll be off. Can you put that book back please?" Hermione asked, giving the girl a kind smile and heading off to the register.
After she paying for her spoils, Hermione turned around to find the girl, but she was no where to be seen. Thanking the man at the register, she headed to the back, and she found the girl curled up with a book in a chair reading- oblivious to the world. This brought a grin to Hermione's face. She hoped one day her children would love books as much as she did and as much as this girl did. Storing away the thought for later, she quietly asked the girl if she was ready to go. The kid practically fell out of her chair to run and put the book back in its place and get ice cream.
Making their way down Diagon Alley, Hermione decided then was the best time to ask the child questions. "So, what's your name?" she probed. She had seen first hand how skittish the girl was and hoped that very simple questions didn't scare her away.
In a tiny, barely audible breath she heard, "Rosalinda" in the girl's tinkling melodic voice. Rosalinda ducked her head and blushed, but Hermione could see the girl's eyes darting around almost imperceptibly looking for danger. What had the girl gone through to look like that?
"That is a very beautiful name. Can I ask who your parents are?" Hermione looked down at the young girl and smiled. However, she did not get the reaction she expected. Rosalinda looked like a deer caught in the headlights. All of a sudden she took off, running and weaving through anyone in her way.
Hermione acted instantly, chasing after the girl, calling her name, and telling her to stop- please. After two minutes, she lost track of the girl who expertly weaved her thin, small frame through the crowd, and after 10 minutes of searching, she came up short after searching every alley. She walked back to the bookshop, defeated. In a last ditch hope, she went up to the clerk and asked for him to reserve The Tales of Beetle and Bard for the little blonde girl. After she paid, Hermione flooed from the Three Broomsticks to the Ministry.
She took an empty elevator up to the seventh floor: Department for Underage Magic. She spoke with the young secretary who was about to leave for the day. "Miss?" Hermione called. "May I please leave a note for your boss? I found a little girl in Diagon Alley, with no parents near. She ran off after I began asking questions, and I could not find her" The secretary took down the girl's name and the situation and said she would make sure it got to her boss first thing in the morning.
Hermione almost sagged down on the floor of the elevator. She was emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted. Any adrenaline she had from her fight with Ron or chasing the girl had drained from her thin frame, and she was left again with emptiness. All she wanted was the warmth of her cozy bed, but instead, she flooed to Number 12 Grimmauld Place.
~oo00oo~
Draco had been up pacing for the last hour. After holing up in his office with hours of reflection, there was still too much about this law that he didn't know, and not knowing was killing him. He owled Granger an hour ago, but the owl came back with his letter still attached. He thought that someone so eager to set up another appointment would at least care to owl back. "It's not that late," he reassured himself for the 99th time since he sent the letter. "Ugh!" Draco groaned and collapsed onto his plush, green victorian sofa.
After no less than twenty minutes of whining, he got up to get ready for bed. Just as he tied the string to his black silk pajamas a light brown Barred owl tapped on his window with a note in tow. He raced to the window and gave the messenger five treats in his haste to read the note. The owl hooted happily and flew off into the night.
"Kingsley?" Draco mumbled when he read the letter. He had been expecting a reply from Granger, but Draco's face gradually grew to a full blown smile when he finished -it kind of hurt. Before he could pick up his quill to reply, another bird tapped on his window. "You better be Granger" he reflected, pushing open the window and letting the large grey owl in.
~oo00oo~
Harry warmly invited in his oldest friend knowing her day had been a rough one. He was quite used to Ron and Hermione's fights, not that he cared for them at all, and always kept a spare room for these events. "So, Ron didn't take to well to the Malfoy deal, huh?" Harry asked jokingly. Lucky for Harry, Hermione was in a bit better mood thanks to his presence and laughed back, "Oh, I don't know what you're talking about. He took it like a ray of sunshine."
"Sounds just like my lovely brother," Ginny quipped, walking in from the kitchen and she hugging Hermione. "One day, I would like the spare room to be for my child, not Ron's when he mouths off to Hermione. Men," Ginny scoffed. Noises of agreement coming from Harry and Hermione.
oo00oo
They conversed for another hour about Rosalinda, and Harry agreed to have the Auror Department help find the girl- or the girl's parents. The conversation slowly died down after a hour, and Harry and Ginny went off to bed, bidding Hermione a goodnight. Before she retired for the night, Hermione borrowed Harry's owl to write a quick letter to Malfoy to set up more time to talk.
"Mr. Malfoy,
I hope we may continue our research tomorrow. Ten maybe?
Sorry for the late message. Long day.
-Hermione Granger."
"Looks good enough," Hermione yawned as she attached the parchment to the owl's leg. She stroked the owl lovingly, missing her familiar Crookshanks, and sent it on its way. Stripping off her pants and bra, she climbed into the guest bed and almost immediately fell asleep.
A.N./ Hello lovelies. Whether or not you even like this story, please review with criticisms, critiques, and comments. I love hearing from you all, and it helps me grow as a writer. Have a peachy day!
