Chapter Eight
An Old Friend
Hermione returned to work. The book was grating on her last nerve and she had to leave, to focus on anything else, and her parents strictly forbade her to go and help them. It was typical, having to do everything themselves.
Her boss was of course exasperated with her. He worried frequently that all the cases she took on would one day lead to a meltdown. She on the other hand insisted that he was overreacting, but she didn't dare utter that he was wrong, no matter if he was. As far as she was concerned it could only help her.
A man sat across from her in the chair she couldn't help but remember Malfoy sitting in. It was the last day she saw him... He was right there, close enough to touch. She had talked with him.
She wouldn't allow herself to go any further into those thoughts, she had to concentrate on her client. This man was dark, good looking, and very familiar. For the life of her, she wasn't able to put a name to him. It was no matter, she would ask him, and ask her assistant yet again to write legibly.
"I'm sorry, sir, but what is your name?"
"Antonio Carr, ma'am, please, call me Tony." He glinted mysteriously, as if she was missing out on a joke.
She shifted, slightly at an unease with the sudden forwardness. "Okay, Tony, how may I help you?
"A date," he gave her a perfectly white smile.
She gulped down her gasp, her papers crinkling in her hands. "That is quite inappropriate."
"I apologize, I don't mean to come off so rash. You're right, quite inappropriate and not very gentlemanly. I was hoping that you'd remember me."
So she did know him. "You look familiar... Should I know you?"
"Hermione, it's me, Tony. Don't you recognize me? Your friend? We were ten when I moved away?"
Her eyes widened and her heart leapt. Tony, little Tony from her childhood. He had lived right down the road from her. "Tony?!"
He nodded happily and they stood to hug each other. "What are you doing here," she asked.
"Thought I was a Muggle? Nope, Muggle-born, like you!"
It was too good to be true. Her old best friend, a wizard. "Why didn't I see you at Hogwarts?"
He raised his brows suggestively. "Moved away," he formed the words slowly, teasingly.
She couldn't resist, she hugged him again. He grew to be rather tall and she stood on the tips of her toes to reach her arms around his neck. "I'm glad you found me! We have a lot of catching up to do!"
"I know most about you. One third of the Golden Trio and all."
She chuckled modestly. "Then you must come over this Sunday, tell me everything that's been going on."
"That will take a while."
"I've got time."
He kissed her cheek, her face burning from the contact. "Sounds like a date."
As Tony winked and walked out she touched the spot where his lips had touched. Since when had he ever kissed anyone's cheek? He used to be so shy.
Something was off... He didn't act like the Tony she knew. It was like he was someone else entirely. What were the odds of him being a wizard anyhow? Two children from the same neighborhood...
She decided that she was being ridiculous. People were bound to change. Certainly she couldn't expect him to remain the ten-year-old boy she knew. That would be unreasonable.
However, that nagging feeling that something was wrong didn't go away. For the rest of the day she calculated the chances of her parents house getting broken into and an old friend being a wizard. Add Malfoy's death and the Horcrux book, and the chances lowered. It wasn't good... Was it likely that they were all linked?
The war was over. She shouldn't have been worrying anymore, reading into things the way Harry used to. Five years had passed and yet she felt as though she were back at Hogwarts hoping to make it through the year... In her case, it lasted after the war as well.
She thought back to a few years ago, at a charity convention...
Neon blue and green streamers draped the ceiling and the fireplaces in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. People swayed about in elaborate gowns and tuxedos. The music echoed around them, a steady beat, a serene voice that only merpeople were capable of.
Her friends were lost in the dancing and chatting. She sat at the bar, her head hung low. Her silky hair created a curtain from the rest of the world.
Hermione didn't drink. Fire Whiskey burned her throat and made her head spin. That night though, she thrived on those things when she saw the man she despised. For everything that caused her pain she downed a shot glass. One for the way he looked, his blond hair, his long fingers, his pale skin. One for his gleaming smile. One for his walk absent of his usual stagger. One for his deep laugh. One for the way he stared at her. One for her broken heart.
She wished she had the Fire Whiskey George gave her in congratulations for her job. She wished she hadn't given it to Harry instead.
***
Hermione reclined on the couch leafing through the multiple folders she brought home from work. She looked over each case, made notes, considered sending a few to a co-worker. She had learned form her school days not to take on so much, but she still had trouble with it. She cared too much to make herself pass them on.
She stared at the folder. She must have been tired, her mind drifting from it to her old friend. Tony, though he physically appeared to be the same was different. The chances of his timing were too coincidental. How could she question his motives, from her childhood friend? Was she cruel to do so?
In thanks to her wild imaginings of him in a black robe and bone mask she jumped when there was an abrupt knock on her door. It was a single knock that vibrated and struck the fear that constricted in her chest. Every instinct on guard, she sent the papers away with a flick of her wand and went to the door.
On her toes she peered out through the peep hole. She nearly gasped at who was standing there.
Hastily she slid back the latch and opened the door to Nott.
"Hey," he said tiredly, not a hint of a smile.
"How's your head," she asked, not knowing what to ask, not after the way she behaved.
He smiled sardonically. "Better. You still pack a wallop, Granger."
She didn't know what possessed her. Everything was backwards, not trusting Tony but trusting Nott? Malfoy did... It was as good an excuse as any. She stepped aside to let him enter. "Come in."
"Thank you," he said politely, but only walked in far enough that she could shut the door. He hovered by the coat rack.
"What can I do for you?"
"You left so suddenly that I didn't have time to give you what is now rightfully yours. Two weeks before his..." he closed his eyes as if in pain, but it was only a second, and in that second she felt a great deal of sympathy for him. How hard it had to be for him.
She lifted a hand to comfort him but retracted it instantly. She couldn't comfort him, not when the last thing he would've wanted as a "Mudblood's" sympathy and solace. She couldn't even bring herself to apologize, or say anything at all.
"He gave this to me to give to you. He wanted you to know. There's something else with it too." He dipped into his gray cloak and withdrew a folded bit of parchment and taped to it was a clear vial filled with what looked like silver smoke. It was memories...
"Why," she asked, astounded.
"Only one person knows why, and he's not here. Take them."
Awkwardly she held them. She bit her lip and begged herself not to cry .She looked up to thank him but just as she did the door was closing. She caught a glimpse of Nott's hand and his back, his head bowed as if facing a great gust of wind.
It was overwhelming. Even past his grave Malfoy was aiding her. Why? Wouldn't it have served more purpose if he hadn't died? He could've been there with her answering her questions. Why did he have to die?
She never knew the human heart could hold so much love and contempt before. There was always something new to learn, and she used to love that fact. Not anymore...
Hermione couldn't afford to feel anymore sadness at Malfoy's passing. It was an impossible task, but she was still very angry with him. So she thought of the bittersweet memory she held of her own.
She strained to listen. Harry was deathly quiet, but Ron was screaming on the verge of sobbing. She shook to think of what would happen to them. It was illogical, she was the one that was going to be tortured, but if something happened to them... Her best friends... Her world.
Malfoy was ordered to take her, and his gentle manner surprised her. His hands weren't as rough as they could have been. He kept her close to his body. She thought of how many times she'd been that close, but all of them were for such different reasons.
She was sat in a chair and ropes wrapped themselves around her wrists, chaffing her. It would be the least she would feel, she knew.
Malfoy's lips brushed her ear and she heard his words. "I'm sorry. Be strong."
It was those words and the fury she felt at them that kept her going. It was the only thing that kept her lies firm. It kept her alive. She thought of all the ways she would injure him if she had the chance. All the things she would have told him. None of them being out of justice. There was only one thing she would have done, only one thing she would've said and they never said it, an unspoken word.
A/N: If you like my writing I highly suggest that you check out my homepage (a blog). On it you will find more of my writings, as well as excerpts from FF's to come.