Chapter Two

Just Malfoy

Fifty-three spell books were sprawled around Hermione. Her hair was more wild than usual as she kept running her hands through it, frustrated. There had to be a spell that would destroy the book that sat in the center of the study.

She curled her legs under her and tried another spell. Nothing.

She groaned and tugged at her tresses. She picked up the wretched thing and chucked it across the room. It hit the lamp on her desk knocking it over, breaking on the floor. Just as well, it was an ugly lamp anyway, her aunt gave it to her as a homecoming present.

"What did it do?"

She didn't bother looking behind her to the doorway where one of her best friends stood. "I can't figure it out."

Harry sat next to her laying his arms over his knees. He stared at the stripped shards. "You aren't failing. You just haven't succeeded yet."

She smiled. "This shouldn't be in my possession. It belongs in -"

"Another department," he finished for her. They had the conversation before within the three days since she last saw Malfoy. How she would love to curse Malfoy...

"You won't give up," he added.

He was right, she wouldn't. Giving up was as bad as failure in her book. It was failure. She wouldn't - couldn't do that. It wasn't an option. The moment Malfoy asked her it became her responsibility. In all right (legally) it wasn't. For an unknown reason she didn't know why she couldn't see it that way. She didn't owe the bouncing blond ferret anything. She did owe him something, but it wasn't a favor. If she was to be honest with herself, she'd have to say that she owed him a lot... She owed him her life, although many days she resented him.

"Take a break. Ginny will be getting off of practice in a few. Go out with her."

"Is he still refusing protection?"

"Yes, but Hermione -"

"I'm not going to leave until this thing is gone." She didn't want history to repeat itself. Not after all the work they'd gone into setting it right. Not after things were peaceful in the wizarding world.

He sighed in defeat knowing in all the years of their friendship that there was no way of talking her out of it. She was not going to move from that spot until she completed the task at hand.

She muttered yet another spell, and nothing. She shouted a curse word, only slightly embarrassed that such an expletive left her mouth. Her anger was getting the best of her. The book was winning. What was she missing? Everything had a weakness. What was it? What spell was it that she didn't know? She was coming to greatly resent being known as the smartest witch of her time. It sure wasn't coming in much of use.

Harry pushed his round glasses up the bridge of his nose and took out his wand. "Two's better than one," he said.

She gave him an appreciative smile, and together they went over everything they knew. The book didn't so much as budge and Hermione was quickly getting disheartened again. It was shameful, after all they'd been through, that a book was going to get the best of them.

"It's getting late."

She looked up and saw the sky outside the window was splashed in pink and gold. They had been working hours...

"You're right. Thanks for trying to help. Do you want anything to eat?"

"No, thanks. I have some paperwork to tend to." He heaved himself to his feet. "Get some sleep. You'll figure it out."

She nodded as he left, but she certainly didn't agree. What if she never solved it? What danger would it pose to society? What if the danger was already building?

She kicked the book away and stood. If there was going to be any repercussions the first place they'd begin at would be Malfoy's house. As much as she despised the idea, she had to see him. It wasn't only for the hope of more information but to make him station Auror's on his property. She would never admit to caring, but she did. She cared deeply.

Malfoy could be the answer to it all...

As she trotted down the stairs she pulled out her mobile and dialed Ron's number. Thank goodness they all saw sense in the small Muggle technology. It was a lot quicker than Owls, but according to the Weasley's it was a lot more difficult. It was funny that Neville caught on faster than any of them (aside from Harry and her).

"Hello," called Ron's deeply gruff voice from a muffled distance.

"Turn the phone around, Ronald!"

"Oh, oh, hey!" His mouth was closer, his voice clearer.

She rolled her eyes not helping but to smile. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Watch Malfoy's house."

"Harry said that he refused."

"He did, but stand watch anyway."

"What? Hell no!"

"Please, Ron?"

"Why is this so important to you? It's just Malfoy and if he's thick-headed enough to believe he doesn't need the Ministry's help then..."

She sat the phone down slipping into her jacket. She could hear the soft pattering of rain that overrode his annoyed tone. She pulled her hood up and picked up the phone. Ron didn't sound like he had taken a breath.

"He's Malfoy! We don't owe him anything. Except maybe a good kick in the -"

"Please do this for me. I can't say why it's important, but it is."

He was quiet for a moment. "He'll sue if not kill me."

"I'll be your lawyer in court if you survive. Will you do it?"

"Yes."

She grinned. "Thank you so much Ron! Thank you!"

She clicked the mobile closed and stepped outside. She was elated, a weight off of her shoulders. She hadn't felt so light in days. The heavy clouds and rain didn't bring her spirits down, but leave it up to Malfoy to turn her life into a wreck. Leave it to a book...

She disapparated outside of her white iron gate, her small home and the planted tulips vanishing in a blur.

***

The Malfoy Manor was the last place Hermione wanted to be. To say the least it didn't hold the best of memories, but there she was, standing at its ivy strewn gates. Whatever it was that she thought she would feel, she didn't, and she was glad. She contributed it to the fact that the building in front of her didn't look like the manor she was tortured at.

The grass was overgrown, filled with weeds, the roof was in patches and a few of the windows were boarded up. It looked like its inhabitants abandoned it years ago. As far as her knowledge went, that could have very well happened.

The crunching of gravel behind her startled, and she spun. It was Ron, smiling at her, his grin stretching across his freckled face. It warmed her, a million memories of him smiling at her like that, a promise of a peaceful future.

"Malfoy left the house five years ago," he informed.

"When his parents died." Shortly after the war, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy was murdered on a street in broad daylight. It was bound to happen, many reformed Death Eaters were killed or at the very least, not trusted.

"Yeah, according to our records he also released his house-elves."

She tried to grasp that information. Malfoy left his manor, released his slaves, and asked for her help. Something was definitely off. Had he been knocked off his broom?

"Is there any mention of attempted murder by him?"

Ron shook his head. "Nope, not a thing. Why do you ask?"
"Remember what he told Harry in our third year? He said that if someone killed his parents he would get revenge." She didn't doubt that Malfoy had done some growing in that time, but if he hadn't it could be a lead to where he was at.

"You're looking for him?"

"There's not a listing of a new address?"

"No." He gripped the gate. "What's this about, Hermione? Is it about that damn book?"

"I can't destroy it..." Even as a quiet as she whispered it, it didn't take the sting away.

"Turn it over to the department -"

"It's my responsibility."

"It's not!"

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the moisture trickling out. "I can't fail."

Ron jerked her into his embrace so quickly and roughly it knocked the wind out of her. She buried her face into his chest and inhaled his woodsy scent. Like Harry's broom-polish aroma it was a mark of a friend, in Ron's case, a brother. It brought her comfort.