Hermione Owled off a letter requesting permission to visit the Hogwarts library first thing in the morning.
She would have sent another to Harry asking about the details of the assignment in Greece, but she had already received one saying he would be out on a case and good luck with Malfoy.
Visiting that sneaky git of a boss was high on her priorities. He bloody well knew she was out of St. Mungo's, it was rotten of him to not send her the details of her status.
Yet she knew exactly what he would say the moment she asked him.
'I thought you might have been at home, recuperating. I figured we could discuss it when you were well enough to come in'. Then he'd work in somehow that last time she was injured she left without Healer approval.
Hermione clothed herself wandlessly and nonverbally, the buttons along her back sliding up easily.
Feeling rather guilty for doing so, she firmly picked up her wand and slid it up one sleeve. No more testing the limits. It was an ill-gotten surge and she knew it, because she had felt the heat soaking into her skin last night the longer they touched.
Even though Nott was an arrogant arse, she really hoped he wasn't suffering a magic depletion.
Arranging her hair at the back of her head, and spelled it into place - last time she'd forego her wand, honest - she headed out the door.
The Ministry was typically busy, and she had to wind her way through to one of the emptier elevators. She climbed in with two strangers, thank Merlin, and watched the doors close almost all the way when someone darted in between at the last second.
He straightened up immediately, smoothing down his hair and straightening his collar.
Hermione tried to sink back closer to the wall.
"Oh, Hermione. Good morning." Percy smiled at her, one as neat and inoffensive as his pressed black robes.
"Morning." Barely meeting his eye, she looked at the numbers, willing the light to travel faster. It wasn't that she disliked him, she really didn't. Despite his mistakes, she did believe in second chances.
"I heard you were in St. Mungo's. Are you feeling better now?"
"Yes." She breathed deeply as 2 lit up. She could feel his eyes still on her.
"You know," he began, "if you ever need to talk, my office-"
The doors slid open, revealing sweet, sweet escape.
"This is my floor! Excuse me." She hurried past the two people right in front, hating herself for the cursed twinges of warmth. Percy?! It couldn't just be anyone, she had felt nothing with Ron or Baddock.
Perhaps, other than his less than friendly qualities, he had always been very strong academically. He had gotten top grades in twelve OWLs, and as the overshadowed middle child, often his help went unnoticed.
He made Ginny take Pepper-up potion during her first year when she looked awful, due to being possessed by Voldemort, and not-so-discreetly tailed Harry when they thought Sirius Black was after him.
And she heard him talking to Penelope in the infirmary when she was Petrified.
Still, she was eager to leave him behind, unsettled at the thought perhaps some part of her found him to be attractive. Not to mention he was engaged to Penelope Clearwater now.
Sweet Merlin she prayed she wasn't only attracted to taken men. That had always been terribly wrong to her.
Nott was probably making some poor Pureblood Witch's life miserable by dating her.
The only men attacked in Greece were in relationships...
On the other hand if that was true, luckily Malfoy was single. And how did she know that? He was fairly famous on the media level, the man soaked up all the attention and never dated outside the periphery of a journalist's camera.
Straightening her shoulders and tilting her chin up, she walked down the hall to and past the offices toward the Director's office.
To be fair, she tried turning the latch. It didn't budge.
A silent Alohomora wasn't successful either, but she felt a protective spell trip after she tried. Looking toward the ceiling and closing her eyes, she waited for the inevitable…
"May I help you?" Head Auror Baddock strode down the hall with a smile as slick as his coiffure.
Deep inside something miffed rose up from her chest and threatened to erupt from her lips.
Hermione barely kept a civil tone. "My meeting with Malfoy? I believe I mentioned it yesterday."
"Yes, but he's not free for another-"
"Now, Baddock." She enunciated carefully, reaching for the latch again. This time she ran over the short list of unlocking spells that would counteract nearly anything he could think of.
Paterui!
Patefacio!
Laxumavi!
The latch still didn't move. How clever of Malfoy. There were many spells that needed another component to work, the most simple being that of a password. He probably needed to be on the outside of the door.
As if he had some idea what she was doing, Malcolm smiled quite smugly. "He's very busy."
Apertobis!
CRACK.
Hermione smiled calmly as the door moved inward to her right. She simply isolated the spell inward and moved it with the door.
Sauntering inside of the office, Baddock strode after her with mouth open to protest. The door shut back in place, right in his outraged face.
"Clever, Granger." came the drawl from her left.
Once a somewhat cluttered office with mundane furniture that was functional and light, it was now the picture of a Pureblood den replete with an aristocratic figure.
The desk he sat behind was properly magnificent; a huge mahogany affair with black iron accents running along the legs and border. The slightly blackened fireplace had been redone in bronze and cast iron, the shell done in detailed scroll.
Large bookshelves with matching volumes and heavy, expensive decorations, and in small marble rectangle with just a few pieces of parchment resting in it.
His incoming work...what did he do, she thought disgustedly, just sit and look pretty?
Draco Malfoy had grown into his pale hair and pointed face; the tips of platinum locks curled just above his ears, his sharp jawline turning the outline of his face utterly masculine. His silvery eyes glittered with either malice, amusement, or both as he watched her from that ostentatious behemoth of a desk.
Hermione smiled as she took in his shoulders beneath the tailored cut of the superfine cloak. It opened at his throat, revealing a glimpse of cloth so white it could have been freshly fallen snow.
She bypassed the two dragonhide sofa chairs situated in front of the desk and came around to within arm's length from him. She took a seat right on the polished surface of the wood, crossing one leg over the other under the deep crimson skirt.
Malfoy turned in his seat, a cocky curve to his mouth. "My, my. Getting comfy, are we?"
Her nose scrunched as she returned his sly smile with a devious one of her own. "I'd be much more comfy sitting elsewhere."
"Oh?" His fingers tapped nearly silently as it settled on the desk not an inch from her thigh. "Why don't you tell me all about it, Granger?"
With all your listening devices, you sneaky Slytherin? The thoughts dragged slowly through her though, wading through the langor like heated molasses pooling in her stomach. "Are you sure you're not too busy? I've been waiting for notification on my work status."
The sharper tone made his eyes narrow, his fingers curling away from her skin. "I assumed you were still recuperating. I'd hate for a repeat of last time."
That nearly sent her blood boiling in a different way, despite the prickles of hungry shocks along her exposed skin, signalling it didn't originate from herself. "Do I look weak or sickly to you?" She meant it to come out sarcastically, but the words coated themselves with honey and he shivered.
His light eyes coursed over her slowly, leaving her feeling as if she had much, much less on. "Just as infuriating as ever, I'd say."
Her leg uncrossed, knees pressed together as she leaned her weight back on one palm. "Do I frustrate you, Malfoy?"
"Gods, yes." He groaned, his eyes darkened hotly, but before either of them could move - and she wasn't sure which one of them would have - a loud knock interrupted the stifled hot air.
"Auror Potter is at St. Mungo's," came the voice from a tiny statue of Salazar sitting on the bookshelf behind him.
Muttering a curse, Malfoy stood up and moved quickly to the door.
Hermione caught her breath as she turned, a flutter of panic moving through the drugged desire like a Patronus through Dementors. She quickly followed him to see the door thrown open and Baddock's composed features.
For a second she hoped that he just said that to get access to the room. But no, he held an official St. Mungo's note in one hand that was easily recognizable.
Nearly all of the soft shivers had faded by the time she was was directed to the proper room. As the Director was notified first by the Ministry, she arrived before anyone else.
Throwing open the door, her eyes searching out her best friend. It was far from the first time they had visited each other here, especially after becoming Aurors, but each time she feared the worst.
Harry was flat on his back with several hospital grade powder-blue blankets draped over him, pale as a sheet. His lips were the same nasty shade as his skin, and he seemed to be shivering.
Sending a chair to his side immediately, she threw herself in it and leaned close to him. "Harry? Can you hear me?"
He slitted one eye open, the green especially bright against that unhealthy pallor. His nearly-white lips quirked in a smile. "Oh, how the tables have turned.." he joked slowly. He sounded much like he did after a blow to the head, a bit slow and trying his best to form words.
She smiled back, relieved he was awake."Please, you were knocked out practically every Quidditch game ever. I'm used to seeing you in bed." She teased, quickly ignoring the unintentional innuendo. She didn't feel strange this time, thankfully enough.
He struggled to sit up, finally just resting his weight on his elbow. She quickly placed another pillow behind his back, familiar with the awkwardness of trying to carry on a conversation while lying prone.
"What happened?" she asked, once he was upright enough to feel comfortable.
"I don't remember." A sluggish flicker of annoyance crossed his features, before he sighed. "I'm so hot though. I can't stop shivering." As if in emphasis, a deep shudder wracked his body.
She reached for the blankets, intending to move them to find his hand to hold. It always made her feel better, and she sought out the contact.
He froze, then jerked a little as soon as she began to move the blanket. "Don't!"
Hermione hesitated, eyes flying back up to his wide green ones. "Bad injuries?"
"N-not exactly." Some color returned to his cheeks, he looked embarrassed. "I...am really hot." It all came out in a rushed mumble.
Puzzled, she tilted her head. "I just wanted to hold your hand."
After a moment, he moved his other arm from under the blanket and she gratefully held it. His skin was hot, feverishly so. It was so hot it felt like it was seeping into her skin.
His eyes were so beautiful. She let out a small sound, swaying closer. Then she shook herself, hoping he hadn't noticed.
Harry cleared his throat, a bit more color leeching into his skin and lips. "I wasn't wounded, just unresponsive. I'm sorry I worried you." His speech was also less slurred now.
"Right." She was a bit distracted by the way to feeling crawled up her shoulder and poured into her chest and dripped down to the very core of her. "Umm.. you don't remember?" It was the last thing she could recall he said.
"I think...that..." He shut his eyes tight, frustrated before sighing. "I lost it. It feels like it's on the tip of my tongue though."
Hermione looked over him, the way he wasn't trembling as much. The blanket had slipped down one shoulder. Before she could formulate the thought he was undoubtedly naked, something else caught her eyes. "What is that?"
"Oh." He quickly shoved the blanket back up, but she moved his hand to see.
Silver.
Not the faint silver scars she still had, but wide glittery marks as if someone had dipped their fingers in paint and stroked his shoulder to his chest. She wondered how far down it went.
"Harry…"
He was looking nearly normal now, lips pink and healthy, his skin reflecting that extra sun they had from having assignments outside.
"Hermione, are you alright?" His fingers squeezed hers, seeming to have no idea it sent shocks through her.
She shivered, and it wasn't unpleasant. "I have to go." She groaned, and stood up unsteadily. It felt like she was drunk.
"Hermione?"
The door opened before Harry could ask again, and she had never been so glad to see the Weasley's in her life, and that was saying something.
She left with murmured apologies to each beloved redhead on her way out, avoiding hugs and touches like the plague. Her skin had been so sensitive and charged earlier, but it was nothing compared to this.
As soon as she was able to, she was immediately heading to Hogwarts, regardless of permission or not. She had no idea what was going on, and she was very, very tired of that feeling.
For now, Hermione knew the Burrow was empty, and she made her way to the guest Floos. It was familiar, homey, and had many rooms to crash in.
Plus, she couldn't get in any trouble there.
Author's Notes:
Of course, of course, right?!
I'm up and running again, if you're still reading, thank you for being so patient! I've missed writing like mad!