Plans
Hermione woke early the next morning, the scratching wool of her simple blanket irritating her smooth thighs and unbearable after the heat of a summer night. A small metal fan wheezed in the corner, circulating the rooms stale air. She threw off the blanket at walked to the smudged window at the end of the room. Outside a red haze illuminated the decaying apartment buildings of the slum as the sun slowly rose in the East. The neon signs of the downstairs convenience store continued to flicker and an old hunched man with a graying beard stood unlocking the door to the neighboring bakery. A known prostitute was entering the apartment building, scowling as she tucked a wad of dirty bills into her stained bustier.
This was not Hermione's first choice for a living arrangement.
But this is where Draco Malfoy was, and until she knew the truth about that night, this is where she would stay.
What possibly could have driven him to this hell?
She had, of course, heard the rumors. Before the Order had presented this mission to her, Ginny had told her of the murmurs that Malfoy was on the run from the Dark Lord himself, that he must have done something terrible.
Perhaps he had gone on the run out of guilt?
She quickly shook the thought from her head. Malfoy did not, could not, feel guilt. She wasn't sure he could feel anything at all.
But Harry had felt differently.
"You weren't there Hermione. You didn't see him."
Hermione sighed sympathetically. Harry hadn't been himself since Dumbledore's death. It clawed at her heart to slowly watch her best friend lose his mind. He had become fixated on the mysterious initials RAB, and on top of everything, had convinced himself he could redeem Malfoy.
"Are you sure you saw what you think you saw? You were under so much stress. How could you tell?"
He ran his hand through his rumpled black hair.
"Yes. I'm certain. He wouldn't have killed Dumbledore."
He paused for a moment.
"I think, if we should find him, we should offer him our protection."
Hermione's heart caught in her throat. Her head was spinning. She couldn't possibly have heard correctly.
"You want to what?"
He began to pace the empty classroom where they were conducting their private meeting. Ron was outside doing extra Quidditch practice, which he had desperately needed. It gave Hermione a moment of piece. Ever since they began going out that summer, they had slowly been suffocating each other.
"You heard me right. I'm going to offer him our protection."
Hermione stared blankly at him, at a loss for what to say. Wetting his lips, he began again.
"In his eyes there was… fear, guilt, something good."
His expression darkened.
"It's what Dumbledore would have wanted."
Hermione understood, and though she didn't agree, she had put her trust in him.
His body had never been found, and the last person who he had been seen with was Draco Malfoy, and despite Harry's belief that there was some good in him, Malfoy was no fallen angel.
She would find out what happened that night.
Until then, he was at her mercy, and she would be sure to make his life hell.
She would begin by making him work. Most of the apartments needed a paint job. She would enjoy giving him a hard time after the years of hell he had put her through.
Moving to her closet, she picked out a pair of jean shorts and a black tank top. As she pulled her lank black hair into a pony tail, she glanced at the oval mirror she had pegged on the wall.
Cold black eyes stared back.
She smirked at her own disguise abilities.
Grabbing an apple for breakfast, she went to begin day one of her destruction of Draco Malfoy.
