A/N: OKAY. Super sorry for the almost 1 month delay. There has been some problems for both of us writers. Terribly sorry. I AM A HORRIFIC MONSTER.
By the way, this is Khar. PLEASE REVIEW!
Rouges
A hand grabbed her arm with a vice like grip as the familiar sensation of Apparition came over her. Hermione didn't care anymore where they went. All she wanted at the moment was to get as far away as possible from the dementors and the one place she treated as home apart from her family's house. After the sensation of being pushed through a rubber tube has passed, they tumbled onto the ground; she on top of him.
It annoyed her greatly that he was still holding her and what aggravated her more was that she didn't really mind. He's really soft. Thought Hermione before she could stop herself. No. But she could feel his breath on her forehead making the hair at the back of her neck rise and—THUD!
"OUCH!" whispered Hermione sprawled on the ground.
"I told you to get off me, you nuisance." he said gruffly as he got up.
"But did you really have to shove your knee on my stomach?" she spat.
"You were getting a little comfy-comfy here." he said revolted as he pointed at his chest.
"I was not!" sputtered Hermione immediately turning red at her own thoughts.
"You disgust me,"
"The feeling is mutual." she said nastily.
She hastily stood up, brushing off dead leaves from her clothes and after successfully pulling a twig from her hair, she asked, "Where are we anyway?"
There were in a deserted meadow dotted with tiny gold and white flowers that seemed to produce an eerie glow. Around them tall black-barked trees hide them from being seen. It was quite a beautiful place.
"Weeping Lilies," he said as he perched his bag on a boulder.
"Lilies?" asked Hermione. She kneeled down and peered through the grass and saw that they were indeed lilies. Miniature lilies the size of dandelions. But weeping?
"How come they're weeping? I don't see any moisture or water coming from the flower," asked Hermione.
"When a person stumbles across this flowers, even the faintest trace of its smell can kill." he said, his face an expressionless mask.
"Kill?" Hermione doubted. "That's impossible! I've never heard or read about them before! I don't remember anything resembling them in Most Dangerous Plants in the World; Second Edition. And kill with its smell? I don't smell anything and we're not dead, are we? I mean, there's no proof, is there? This—"
"I've seen it." said Malfoy.
"Wh-what?" Hermione stammered. It was just impossible. A killing flower? The Ministry would have stopped it by now or killed it! The thought of it was horrible.
"I've seen it. It was a muggle woman. She seemed lost. I was ten. I was playing with my dog. She came over here,"-he stepped at the outside of the meadow-"and she-she just crumpled to the ground, screaming. Screaming for help. She was hopeless." He stared at the ground transfixed and as if by a force, he shook his head, confused.
Hermione sat there looking at him and she felt a different feeling for him: Pity. Pity for him that at the age of ten he witnessed such a gruesome death.
"But how come we're not dead? And the Ministry—"continued Hermione.
"You'd think the Ministry would waste time on these flowers than rebuild the Wizarding World? I'd think not. And anyway, we're wizards. We're immune to them." He said reaching for his pack.
"But—"Hermione wanted to argue. How could the Ministry let this happen? How could they not act or help? It was like S.P.E.W all over again. Hermione felt that she had to carry the burden to protect the muggles. The horror she felt when thinking of her parents finding this patch of land and die almost instantly was incomprehensible.
"There's no use, alright? So stop your babbling!" he said annoyed.
"But who would plant these?" continued Hermione ignoring the impatient tapping of his foot.
"Shouldn't we put up camp or something, Granger? You're Miss Know-It-All. You must have something in that bag of yours." He said tiredly.
"Oh, yes, right." said Hermione grabbing her purse which caused its contents to rumble. She took out her wand, pointed it at the purse, and said, "Accio Tent!" after the tent flew out, she turned to Malfoy whose hands were crossed against his chest looking doubtful.
"I trust that you know defensive spells?"asked Hermione.
"Of course I do." said Malfoy and he walked across the meadow and walked in a circle while waving his wand. Turning to the tent once more to the tent, she whispered, "Erecto!" and instantly, the tent righted itself.
Eyeing the tent doubtfully, Malfoy approached it with narrowed eyes. "That is a magical tent, right?" he said.
"Of course it is. Do you expect me to jam myself with you in there like sardines in a can?" she challenged.
"A can? What—"
"Oh, just get inside will you?" she interrupted.
"After Malfoy noisily got inside, he stood in the middle, rotating like a disco ball, eyeing every corner of the tent as if a judge in a paint exhibit.
Hermione closed her eyes. She could feel all the memories coming back to her. Like a movie playing behind her eyelids. The nights they tirelessly poured over books on Horcruxes. Ron continually tapping patterns on his magical radio. The table where they used to eat and chat. The sleepless nights when Ron left them. When he left her.
She shook her head trying to clear the thoughts. This isn't the time to be thinking of Ron. She thought. She had enough problems on her plate and she wasn't going to let boy problems weigh it down more.
"Stinks of old people and cats…and grapefruit." he added scrunching up his nose in disgust. Hermione, on the other hand, couldn't smell anything. Perhaps she has become used to the smell due to a year residing in it or simply maybe because she liked cats, grapefruit and old people.
"Was this the tent you used on your journey?" he said settling on a bunk bed at the far end of the tent.
"Yes," Hermione said quietly. She didn't know why she felt queasy. His presence felt like a violation to her. He was a Death Eater. She thought. She pushed away those thoughts. They had to work together.
"I'll take first watch." And she perched herself at the tents entrance thinking, how in the world were they going to clear their names.
The sunlight was shining brightly when Hermione woke up. She could smell coffee and toast drifting from the small stove inside the tent. She sat up, rubbing her tired eyes. She had slept while she was on watch. She got up hastily and got into the small kitchen. What she saw next shocked her: Malfoy was crouched over the small stove and scrambled eggs.
"Uhm, what are you doing?" said Hermione cynical and frozen on the spot. The Slytherin Prince cooking? It was second to impossible but there he was, holding a spatula on one hand and a smoking pan on the other.
"Cooking," he said simply as if it was the most normal thing to do in the world. Maybe for some but certainly not for him.
"Cooking?" said Hermione still disbelieving.
"Yes, Granger, cooking." he said pushing the eggs on a plate.
"You can cook?" choked Hermione.
"Are you blind as well as deaf, Granger? Yes, I can cook. It's not the hardest thing to do in the world." he said as he extinguished the fire on the stove.
"Shut up, Malfoy." mumbled Hermione. The aroma of the feast before her literally made her mouth water. She could hear her stomach growling in hunger. She sat down on a chair and pulled eggs and toast towards her.
"Where'd you get this food?" she asked her mouth full of eggs and toast.
"I found a sack full of food in your bag. I was hungry. So I cooked." he said pouring hot chocolate on his mug.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" said Hermione.
"Why so many questions?" he asked, cheesed off. "Just eat, alright? Sheesh, I don't know how Potter and Weasley could put up with you." he added.
Not wanting to fight this early in the morning, she just scowled at him.
"I was thinking," said Hermione. "What do you think about the prophecy Trelawney made?"
"I always thought she was a fraud, that woman." he said drowning his drink.
"She said two enemies were going to work together. I kept thinking…who two enemies? And the killing, I mean, who could do such a thing? And why would that person set us up? I—"she drawled on when she was interrupted by Malfoy.
"I don't care who killed that old bat. I just want to find why he pulled me into this mess-and with all people: you." he stood up placed himself on the entrance, an apple on one hand.
It has been three days since their risky escape and Draco Malfoy was becoming more and more agitated as the seconds passed by. He was cranky, insulting and refused to cook which was a pity because Hermione Granger, other than drawing, does not know how to cook.
It was a cold night and Malfoy was as ratty as ever. He kept conjuring tiny birds and stunned them and revived them and he was about to get on Hermione's last nerve.
Hermione, on the other hand, was left to cook and to be honest, she wasn't doing a splendid job.
"Stop it!" yelled Hermione as she dropped a smoking pan in a bucket of water.
"What?" asked Malfoy, nonplussed.
"Stop it! Just stop it! Stop stunning the birds!" she yelled breathing heavily.
"What's your problem? Stop annoying me, you nuisance." he said zapping another bird.
"I-I- let's just eat bread." She said quietly.
Malfoy approached the table uncertainly and realizing why the Gryffindor Lioness's mood is rotten, he smirked tauntingly and took a piece of roll.
"You don't know how to cook, don't you Granger?" he said breaking the piece of bread in two.
"What?" said Hermione, blushing.
"I said, you don't know how to cook. You have no talent in cooking whatsoever. Am I right?" he said stuffing the roll in his mouth.
Hermione said nothing. Her cheeks felt hotter and redder. This was the last straw.
"YES! Yes, I don't know how to cook, yes I don't know how to draw. I have no talent in any of those things!" she jumped up as the chair clattered on the floor.
"Know-It-All Granger does not know how to cook and draw?" he teased, his eyebrows raised.
"You actually don't know how to do something?" he laughed, triumphantly.
"At least I do something! How about you? You keep sulking in a corner. "
"I DO NOT SULK! Maybe- "
"Shh!" said Hermione suddenly.
"What are you shushing about?" he said infuriated.
"Did you hear that?"
"What?"
Ignoring his question, Hermione peeked through the entrance flap and to her amazement, she saw a silver tabby cat with circles on its eyes. It was walking towards her; the grass undisturbed. When it was directly in front of her, it talked.
"Meet us at a MarryRose Café tomorrow at noon corner near Liverpool Train Station. Keep safe Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy." It said in a stern voice so familiar. She then noticed Malfoy beside her, staring at the cat.
It nodded once and evaporated into a silver mist and then, nothing. A patronus. She thought.
"Was that McGonagall?" Malfoy whispered beside her.
"Yes. I think so…" she trailed off. Meet them? About what?
"We should meet them don't you think?" she said.
"No. It might be a ruse. We don't know. And a muggle coffee shop? No way." He said getting up.
"But—"
"NO. I'm not going."
Hermione sighed. It was going to be a long night.
It was unusually cold for a Sunday morning and it wasn't even December. Hermione pulled her coat closer to her; the harsh wind lapping and scratching at her face. Being muggle-born, she was no stranger to the noise of the cars and buzzing of the people on the busy street, she knew her way perfectly through the streets.
Her companion, on the other hand, was not happy. Behind her, she could just catch words from his incoherent murmured protest like: muggle, filthy, odd, mad, and disgusting.
There was a lot of argument on whether they should meet or not but after a lot of debating, insulting and a five minute lecture from Hermione on disguises, news and criminal psychology, Malfoy begrudgingly gave in.
"Are we there yet?" asked a bad-tempered Malfoy for the umpteenth time.
"It's disgusting here," he said.
"Almost," she answered.
She couldn't blame him. It wasn't his fault he wasn't raised right. He grew up believing muggles were below vermins. He was raised thinking he was above all others. But still, it was insulting.
"I just have to get money in the bank."
"Bank? Muggles have banks?"
"Of course they do! Why? Muggles and wizards have a lot in common you know."
But Malfoy ignored her. His face was turned up, looking at the sky; a very curious look upon his face.
"What's that?" He asked pointing at the sky.
"An airplane," she replied as she pushed buttons on the ATM.
"What's an airplane?" he asked again.
"A metal contraption that muggles use to travel." She said indifferently. Despite herself and her hatred for him, he looked quite endearing.
"Mental…and they fly that? Completely mad." He said shaking his head.
"C'mon. We'll be late." She said and rounded a corner, Malfoy on her heels.
After a few blocks, they find the café bustling with muggles, it was the last place the Ministry would look for them.
Hermione was about to open the door when suddenly, Malfoy grabbed her arm.
"Do you expect me to go in there?" he said sounding incredulous.
"Yes, I do, ferret." She said annoyed. "But if you'd rather stay outside and—"
"Shut up. I'm going."
Hermione smiled.
She opened the glass doors to the delicious smell of blueberry muffins, coffee, and pastries. Hermione checked the time on the grandfather clock at the left corner. It was already noon. They sat on a couch in a corner far from view. A waitress with straw colored hair, make-up that could probably paint the Greatwall of China two times around.
She was batting her eyelashes ridiculously, pouting her lips unnecessarily, and obviously trying to get Malfoy's attention. This somehow cheesed Hermione off.
"Cappuccino, please." snapped Hermione.
This she ignored and turned almost instantly to Malfoy.
"How 'bout you, handsome?" she said flirtatiously.
"What?" he asked startled as if not quite sure what to do.
"What can I get you?" she said smiling sweetly.
"Whatever she's having." he said looking at the entrance.
The waitress looked at Hermione indignantly and trudged away and took the bill from her hand. After a few minutes, there was a light tap on her shoulder. Hermione looked over her and gasped. At first glance he looked like a lawyer. But it was Lupin looking youthful and happy. And for once he wasn't looking shabby anymore. He was wearing a crisp grey suit; his hair neat and tidy and just behind him, stood Professor McGonagall standing straight as ever. The only difference was she wasn't wearing robes. She wore a black dress and a pearl necklace; she would easily be mistaken for a rich widow. Indeed it was shocking for both Hermione and Malfoy to see their Professor so muggle-ish.
"Lupin! Professor!" breathed Hermione standing up.
"Professor?" asked Malfoy from behind her uncertainly.
Lupin smiled at her and sat down in a chair in front of them and so did Hermione and Professor McGonagall.
"Like it Hermione?" said Lupin still grinning.
"You look…different!" said Hermione smiling.
"I do-oh and, good afternoon, Draco." He said politely knowing that his attitude towards him and their family feuds made him unpleasant.
Draco acknowledged him with a curt nod and said, "Professor,"
"Harry helped us with the clothing, you know, to make us look normal." Lupin said conversationally.
"And I think Mr. Potter was right. No one has given us strange glances yet." McGonagall said nodding.
"Professor,you completely—" Malfoy began but was cut short when the waitress came back with their orders. When she put them down, she gave him a wink, slipped a paper on his hand and gave him a gesture that said Call me. She walked away shaking her hips.
"Disgusting," said Malfoy blowing the paper away.
"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger, we have a proposition for you. We believe that you did not do the crime and you would need to clear your name. The Order—" said Professor McGonagall.
"What Order?" Malfoy said suddenly.
"The Order of the Phoenix wants to give you a mission-" said Lupin politely.
"And what? Work for your Order? What am I to you-a servant?" he whispered angrily.
"Malfoy, shut up will you?" snapped Hermione. How immature. She thought.
"Mister Malfoy, please, you have no choice. If you present yourself to the public you would be sent straight into Azkaban." said McGonagall, her eyebrows furrowed.
"Yes, Draco. You have no choice. Look, we made a deal with the Minister. Your mother would be set free. No cuffs, no nothing. She would be free again and you could get your name cleaned." Lupin said in one breath knowing that if he did pause to breath the feisty teenage boy would interrupt him.
"You say that as if I have a choice. But I have no choice, do I?" He said bitterly. "What's the "mission"?" he scoffed.
"To find who the murderer is and get him in custody and in the process, clear your names." said McGonagall.
"Also, there has been talk about a new Dark Lord." He looked at Malfoy questioningly.
Malfoy answered with a shrug.
"Probably just talk." He said.
"But still. Please look into it." said Lupin.
"I think it's time to leave." said McGonagall as she stood. "We'll go separately." said Lupin. "I would like a word with Draco."
Malfoy narrowed his eyes suspiciously but went with him.
"Miss Granger," called McGonagall. "Here, from Mr. Potter. Please notify Mr. Malfoy that he could not take from his Gringotts vault. The Ministry is really keen in finding you."
"Thank you, Professor. Er…Professor, how are Harry and Ron?" she asked.
"Their fine, Miss Granger. Don't worry." She smiled. Malfoy walked up to them, his face tense.
He nodded to her. "Goodbye, Professor." She said. "Lupin," she called.
They walked away together, side by side, neither talking. As they neared a deserted alleyway, they disapparated.