Chapter 7
London, 20th January 2004
Hermione stared at the envelope on her desk for a very long time. It hadn't been there when she had gone out for lunch, she was sure of that. Her secretary couldn't tell her who had delivered it, as according to her nobody had been to her office while she was away. It was a standard, C4 size, plain looking brown envelope, marked with her name and simply FYEO underneath. For Your Eyes Only. Hermione had checked it for spells and curses, but there were none. Still. Her secretary could have nipped out for a fag or to the loo, so the fact that she hadn't seen anyone wasn't that unusual. She let out a little laugh, berating herself for being paranoid. Picking it up carefully, she popped open the back flap, mindful not to tear it. She slid out the contents warily and then froze, a feeling of dread like she hadn't felt since the war paralysing her
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It was a wizard photograph, full A4 size and obviously taken with a powerful telephoto lens. A balcony, two people tightly embracing within a fluffy cloud of white, heads and shoulders visible, moving, grinding. His face to the camera, eyes closed, cheeks flushed; then a heated look and he's picking her off the balustrade, the fabric falling from their bodies, pooling at their feet. He is clearly sheathed inside of her. She bites his neck, legs around his hips. A short pause and then he turns, starting towards a set of French doors, and she reaches out for the duvet as they move, the picture zooming in, her face as clear as looking in a mirror. The loop starts again, and then it repeats. By the fourth time, she reacted. The full implication of the photograph hit her like a punch to the gut. She barely had time to reach out for the paper basket before vomiting her lunch.
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Hermione couldn't sleep, a combination of dread, adrenaline and foreboding keeping her as wide awake and alert as if it was the middle of the day. She rubbed her chest, trying to ease off the constriction that gripped her heart, then looked at the picture for the umpteenth time, touching the little figures with the tip of her index finger, prodding them, as if by doing that they would stop their endless joining and answer her questions.
There had been no note with it, no threats, no demands. Hermione would have felt marginally better if there was something to indicate what the photographer's intentions were. As things stood, she couldn't shake off the feeling of impending doom.
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The urge to tell Harry was overwhelming. But she still remembered all too clearly what his reaction had been to that snapshot of them kissing in the newspaper. No, it wouldn't do any good, telling him. She would have to deal with this herself.
How could this have happened? Nobody had known where she was. Then again, Draco had found her. Draco. Malfoy. She looked at the tiny image of him in her hand, tracing the outline of his face with her finger, a small rueful smile gracing her lips. He was heart-achingly beautiful. And although she did regret immensely that she had got herself in this mess, she couldn't for the life of her repent of what they had done.
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It had been close to six years since the war had ended. Six years. The children they had been and the adults they had become were universes apart. Malfoy had obviously learnt to live with Muggles and to get rid of his prejudices. As far as she knew –and Hermione was sure she would have heard had there been anything to know- he hadn't hurt anybody, hadn't done anything wrong since the end of the war. But he had killed a man. He had hurt several other Muggles too. I need to bring him to justice. Didn't he understand he would never be free unless he faced his past? He would never be free, and neither would she.
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She must hurry. After receiving that photograph, and in the light of all that had happened during the past few months, she knew she had to get to him as soon as possible, before either of them got seriously hurt, or worse. An image of him, deathly pale and bleeding came unbridled into her mind. She felt sick. But if the picture was made public her career would be finished, and then she wouldn't be in a position to do anything about him anymore. Whoever took over from her would be a million times more vicious, more relentless, more ruthless than she could ever be.
Hermione thought long and hard, a plan slowly hatching in her mind. By the time she had decided on a course of action, the pale light of dawn was slowly giving way to a misty grey morning. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, wearily. What she was about to do would end her life as she knew it, and she tried to cling to the last moments of normalcy, dreading what lied ahead. But her mind was made: she would speak to Shacklebolt first thing in the morning.
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London, 21st January 2004
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Kingsley was livid, pacing agitatedly to and fro like a caged animal. He turned to her once, stopping for a moment, then carried on pacing like he couldn't trust his mouth not to scream at her if he opened it. After a few minutes of this, he took a deep breath and turned back to her, trying to get his temper under control.
"How could you have been so stupid. So reckless. You have placed the Ministry in an impossible position."
"I know. I can't tell you how sorry I am-"
"Sorry? Your regret means nothing, Granger. Merlin, if this comes to light we'll be the laughing stock of the wizarding world!" He resumed his pacing, although more measured this time. "I should suspend you immediately, make you face a disciplinary hearing. However, that will only succeed in making the world aware of this farce. It would not be in the Ministry's best interest. So I'm going to go with your plan, Hermione, because if there is any chance to sort this out before it explodes in our hands, I will take it. I'm not doing it for you; as far as I'm concerned, you've dug your own grave and you can lay on it."
"I understand." Her voice was choked. "I will reassign my caseload among my fellow Aurors. But we need to stop anyone taking over the Malfoy file, Kingsley. At least while we don't know who is behind all the attacks."
"The case will be sequestered as soon as you leave my office." With that, Shacklebolt sat down, his eyes back to the parchments on his desk.
Hermione knew she was dismissed. She got up and walked to the door with a heavy heart. Her hand was on the door handle when he spoke again, still looking at the parchments.
"And Granger? I expect your resignation on my desk as soon as this mess is sorted. I hope it was worth it."
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Her eyes filled with tears. This was the end of her career, the end of her dreams. Without another word, she opened the door and walked away.
"Hermione, is it true what I've heard? You are taking a sabbatical?"
Harry rushed into her office as she was clearing the accumulated clutter on her desk. Hermione didn't know who Shacklebolt intended to give her position to, but whoever it was, she didn't want them to think she was a slob. She looked around her unusually tidy office, then at Harry.
"Yes, it's true. I need to distance myself from all this, Harry. This case, Malfoy, it's all getting to me in ways I never thought possible."
"Are you all right? Is there anything you are not telling me?"
"No, of course not. Why would you say that? I just need time to myself, that's all."
"Malfoy's case has been sequestered. I actually thought I'd take over it myself, try to finish this once and for all. But Kingsley told me in no uncertain terms that the case was off-limits for the foreseeable future. And you look unhappy, Hermione. I'm not stupid, you know. You are going after him by yourself, I just know it. I don't want you to, it won't end well, believe me. I really don't like where this is going!. I love you, please let me help you." He looked at her unhappily, hair messier than his normal mess from running his hands through it.
Hermione regarded him thoughtfully while the seconds stretched. He seemed anxious and apprehensive, and kept staring at her expectantly. Oh Harry, my dearest Harry. It would be so easy to unburden herself, to get it all off her chest, but she had gone too far for that. She smiled at him reassuringly.
"Harry, you are being silly. For now, I'm going to Australia to see my parents, I haven't visited in almost three years! I don't know how long I'll stay, but at some point I plan to visit Winnie and Paolo and take a long deserved break. I need to take control of myself again, however long it takes. Kingsley wants me to run the case once more when I return, provided I'm away no longer than two or three months. I haven't decided yet, so if I take longer than that, the case will be available again. You have my blessing to take it on if and when it is reopened, if you still want it."
"You won't try to find him?"
Hermione laughed. "No, silly, I won't. That's not to say that if I saw him somewhere I wouldn't try to capture him, you know me better than that. But I won't be looking for him."
Harry pulled a face. "Be careful, Hermione. Please, don't try to take him on by yourself. If you do spot him, get in touch with me, I'll back you up. And don't stay away too long, you know I'll miss you every day." He kissed her cheek, lingeringly. Hermione hugged him hard.
"Don't worry about me, please. You are my best friend, Harry. You know I love you too, don't you?"
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New Providence Island, 15th February 2004
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Hermione exited Nassau International Airport feeling almost as tired and sick as the first time she was there. Looking around for Winnie, she breathed in the balmy Bahamian air; its scent, unique and heady, calming her nerves and settling her stomach. For a moment she felt happy, and a smile tugged at her lips. How she loved this place. She was shocked to realise that those few days spent here had made such a deep impression, but they had. She heard somebody calling.
"Hermione, here you are!" Winnie enveloped her in a bear hug. "You look tired and pale, and not at all glamorous. We'll soon take care of that!"
"Why, thank you very much! You look lovely too, Winnie Bear!" He swatted her arm good-naturedly, then bumped her shoulder with his.
"Come on my lovely, my beautiful Mustang awaits. You know the drill, we'll drive to my place, have dinner by the pool and then you can tell me what's bothering you. I want to know everything."
Hermione walked around the stunning blue convertible to the passenger door, dragging her fingers lovingly over the running horse that was the car's logo. "How is Paolo?" Winston blushed, smiling bashfully.
"He's well. We are going to his place for breakfast, it'll be just like old times. Well, almost." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, noticing the stricken look that for a moment took over her face. Silly people, the pair of them! He'll soon take care of that.
She had been given the same room she was in last time. She unpacked quickly with the help of her wand and some handy spells, then took a quick shower and changed into a comfortable sun-dress.
Winnie was reclining on the same lounger of that first night last November. He smiled at her, offering her a glass of wine that she accepted gratefully. She sat down on a seat next to his, picking at the tasty hors d'oeuvre arranged on small tables around the recliners.
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"Tell me, Hermione. What's eating you?"
Hermione swallowed the little grilled shrimp in her mouth, considering how to best answer him.
"Have you seen Malfoy recently?"
Winnie laughed and she blushed, quickly sticking a morsel of cheese and pineapple in her mouth to cover her discomfort. Ugh, she really didn't like cheese with pineapple.
"Yes, he was here not three weeks ago."
Hermione waited for him to elaborate, but all of a sudden he was busy eating.
"And?"
"What exactly do you want to know?"
"Well, was he all right?"
Winnie looked at her for several seconds, then sipped at his wine and shook his head.
"He was just as all right as you are. Tired and pale and not at all glamorous. Are you going to tell me what happened between the two of you? What's going on, Hermione?"
"Did he say anything?"
"No, he was his usual unsociable self, only more clammed up than normal. He left quite abruptly after only four days. Paolo was totally baffled. He says he hardly slept and rarely ate, but he wouldn't talk about whatever it is that's bothering him so much. We are worried, actually. I know he's supposed to be a criminal and all that, but we actually like him a lot, Hermione. He's an alright chap, you know, if you look past his snobby airs."
"I know. I think… I think I've seen past those."
Winston looked at her curiously for a long time, while she picked at the food. What the heck, better to get it all out in the open.
"Are you in love with him?"
He expected her to blush, but instead, she paled.
"Truthfully? I don't know. I think I might be, a little. I know he makes my heart beat faster, that I love being around him. That I respond to his touch like I never have to anyone else's. And I know we have Alchemy in spades, chemistry, I mean."
"Yes, we all saw that." This time, she did blush. "That still doesn't equal love, my darling. It might just be a strong physical attraction."
"No, Winnie. Unfortunately I'm starting to believe it might be more than that. I have just done something incredibly stupid for him, and I can't bring myself to regret it." And with that, Hermione proceeded to tell him the whole story, starting with the war and their roles in it, all the way to what happened in January, leaving out only the most intimate details. Winston listened intently, only interrupting occasionally to clarify one point or another. When she finished she felt unburdened, like a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Winnie was lost in thought and didn't say anything for the longest time.
The silence stretched uncomfortably, and Hermione started to get up, thinking of retiring to her bedroom.
"He killed someone." He looked so pale and lost that Hermione went to him, sitting on his lounger and putting her arm around his shoulders.
"We were in a war, Winnie. A dirty, messy, horrible war. All parties did things we are not proud of. He was just a child under unbearable pressure. And no, I'm not making excuses for him. I still believe he needs to face the music, pay for his mistakes and then move on. He can't leave the past behind until he faces it."
"Have you ever killed anybody?"
She was quiet for several minutes. "Hermione?"
"Yes" she said in a very small voice. "Yes, I have."
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Winston hugged her hard. "We'll get you through this, little one. Don't you worry. We'll get you through this and we'll get him through it too, and everything will be ok."
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New Providence Island, 16th February 2004
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"Herms! I'm so happy you decided to visit! You look… lovely, as… well, actually that's not true. You look tired-"
"Yeah, I know. Tired and pale and not at all glamorous. I've been told already, Paolo." She laughed as she gave him a hug. "You, in the other hand, look like life is treating you well." He saw him shoot a glance towards Winnie, who blushed under his gaze.
"Yes, well, you know already, don't you? I am happy, Herms. Happier than I ever remember being. It feels good to be myself at last, all out in the open."
Paolo sat down again to his coffee, Winnie taking the sit next to him. Hermione walked to her usual place and looked at the empty chair next to her. She sighed deeply.
"Yep, he did a lot of that too!" Winnie laughed. Hermione looked mortified.
"Let's go to Bay Street!" Paolo said like that was the solution to every crisis. "Good old retail therapy, Herms, that's what you need!"
Hermione groaned. It was going to be a very long day.
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The day had been hot and very humid, making a mess of her hair, and her lungs feel heavy and waterlogged. They had gone to Bay Street and the Straw Market, where she had been continuously harassed by vendors trying to hustle their wares, then off to lunch, which had been wonderful as always. Winnie left her with Paolo right after lunch, since he had a previous engagement that he couldn't get out of, so Paolo took it upon himself to keep her entertained. Thoroughly.
Later on they were sitting at a wine bar where Paolo had agreed to meet with Winnie. He was sipping his wine slowly, his beautiful indigo eyes fixed on her with a thoughtful look that didn't escape Hermione.
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"How much do you know?" Better to get it over with and ask him directly, as she was sure Winston would have said something to his boyfriend. How could he not.
"About your world or about you and Drake?" Hermione's shock showed on her face.
"He told you about our world?"
"Herms, Winnie and I have no secrets. I must admit it was hard to believe to start with, but after he showed me some of your amazing moving photographs I was more inclined to accept it." Hermione chuckled. "Pity he is magically-challenged, as he says. Although he is magical enough to me…" Paolo coloured brightly, embarrassed at his own soppiness. "Anyway, he told me many things. Some I believe, some I'm sure he's embellishing for his own amusement. All in all, I'm honoured to have been let in on the secret and to be part of it, if only in a roundabout way."
"Did he ever tell you about the war?"
"He mentioned it in passing. Apparently he wasn't required to fight, for which I'm grateful. His father did take a stance, on the side of The Light, whatever that means. I don't know much about it, though, as Winnie didn't dwell on it."
"I was part of it too. At the very centre of it, really. Next to Harry, I fought for the light. Draco… well, he was on the other side. I don't believe he was given much of a choice, though."
"Do you mean he was one of those Deadly Eaters? Winnie did tell me about them. Nasty bunch they seem to be, for what I heard. Drake doesn't seem the type, though. Are you sure he was one of them?"
"Pretty sure. The thing is, Paolo, he needs to go back to the wizarding world and face his past. He is a wanted man there."
"What did he do?"
"What do people do during a war? He was on the wrong side."
"What about your relationship? What will happen if he's caught?"
"We don't have a relationship, silly. We are only acquaintances."
"Bullshit. If that's true, then why are you both so miserable when you are apart?"
"There he is!" Paolo got up, waving maniacally at somebody across the room. "Winnie! We are here!"
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Hermione turned with a smile and a greeting on the tip of her tongue. The smile froze on her lips as her heart somersaulted wildly in her chest. The room around her blurred, and all she could see was him.
He seemed to be rooted to the spot, although he recovered pretty swiftly, approaching the table they were occupying with a look of contempt so like his father's that he could have been a younger version of Lucius. The thought sobered her up enough to recover some semblance of composure.
"Granger." he drawled. "I see I've been ambushed."
"You and I both, Malfoy. I wasn't expecting you, that's for sure."
"I should imagine not. You would have surely run off without a word if you had." Hermione blushed.
"Well, isn't this lovely! Just like old times!" Paolo chirped, so cheerfully it made Hermione wince. "Now, where shall we go for dinner?"
"Er, maybe it would be better to eat at your place. Or mine." Winnie intercepted. "I think these two have things to discuss, and I'm sure it won't be pretty." He was talking into Paolo's ear, loud enough that everybody heard.
"I can make my own way." Malfoy's eyes were focused on Paolo, the sneer fixed on his lip. "Just let me know where you'll all be and I'll make sure to go to the other house."
"Nonsense. We'll all drive together. Let me call my house to get dinner started. This is going to be so much fun!"
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The trip back to Palms House was anything but. Hermione sat on the front next to Winnie, while Paolo and Malfoy took the back seats. Nobody uttered a word, and the tension was so thick, it could have been cut with a knife.
They arrived at the house and went straight through the little Andalusian patio to the veranda adjacent to the pool. The table was set, and they all approached it silently. Paolo kept shooting looks at Winston, who shrugged his shoulders and pulled a face.
"Oh, this is lovely!" Hermione clapped, taking in the beautifully set table, the pretty flower arrengements and the large tureen of Vichyssoise sitting on a platter of ice. Malfoy grunted and sat down
"Drake, mate. Did you just growl? Is anything wrong?"
"I don't growl, Boccioni. I was merely commenting on Granger's enthusiasm. She's obviously not used to seeing a decently set table."
Hermione bristled. So, this is how it's going to be. Have it your way. She took her place next to him.
"Au contraire, Malfoy. I was actually complimenting our host on a very nice set up." Her voice turned sugary sweet. "You should try your hand at civility sometime."
"Ah, I see. Do you mean like having the courtesy of disappearing without a word? Such good manners, no wonder you are giving me lessons."
"Bitter, much? Maybe you should have tried to keep me interested enough not to run a mile!"
"Oh, you were interested enough! I still have the marks on my body to prove it, even a month later!"
Hermione's lips twitched. "Really? You do?"
Malfoy blushed faintly, shooting a sharp look at the other couple. "Wouldn't you like to know, Granger."
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Dinner was much more relaxed an affair after that exchange. Although they didn't go as far as conversing, Hermione did ask Draco to pass the salt once without dire consequences. Winnie smiled. All was well.
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"Malfoy. A word."
They were all lounging comfortably on the large sitting area by the pool. Paolo and Winnie were actually lying down on a day bed, talking quietly between themselves and, Hermione suspected, trying to give them some space. Malfoy continued to twirl his wine glass, completely ignoring her.
"I said I want a word, Malfoy. In private. Now."
"I heard you the first time. I'm just not in the mood to take orders. Plus, I'm comfortable here."
Ok, time for a different approach. She crouched in front of him, almost between his legs, and covered his hands with hers.
"Draco." He looked at her, startled, eyes widening. "I have something I need to discuss with you. Will you walk with me?" She was rubbing circles with her thumb on his skin.
She saw him wet his lips and stood up, extending her hand to him. "Please. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
Reluctantly he rose, ignoring her hand. "Lead the way then, Granger."
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They wandered into the beautiful gardens lit only by the radiance of the moon and the occasional spotlight illuminating a palm tree. The silence was so deep, she wondered whether he could hear the thump-thump-thumping of her heart. He stopped her when they got to a small clearing surrounded by lush vegetation.
"This is far enough, Granger. What did you want to talk about?"
Hermione turned to face him. She could barely make out his face in the shadows, but his hair was a beacon in the dark. She chuckled.
"Malfoy, with hair like that, however do you manage to be stealthy? Wherever you go, anyone can spot you coming a mile away."
He turned around and started back the way they came.
"Right, if that was all…"
She grabbed his arm, stopping him.
"Sorry. I do need to talk to you. Seriously."
"Talk away then. I don't have all night."
She sighed, opening her little beaded bag. After rummaging for a minute, she retrieved the brown envelope and took out the photograph, handing it to him.
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"What is this?" He cast a silent Lumos and examined the picture for several long minutes. "Granger, what is the meaning of this?"
"I received it a couple of days after I got back. No clue who it's from or what they want."
"It has to be the same person behind the attacks. Was there anything else? Why would they do this? Did they expect you to back off or to run straight to me?"
"No idea about any of that. But I told Shacklebolt everything. I'm no longer a Ministry employee, though officially I'm taking a sabbatical. Don't worry, your file has been sequestered for the time being."
Malfoy was pacing, thinking, pacing some more.
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"We need to draw him out, Granger. We need to be the predator before we become the prey."
"How?"
"Let me sleep on it. We'll discuss it tomorrow." He looked again at the picture, chuckling low in his throat. "What a day, that one."
She sighed. "Yes. What a day."
He was seeking her eyes in the wand light, searching, like he was trying to see inside her heart.
"Do you regret it?"
"No."
"I can't forget. It didn't make it better."
"No, it didn't."
He was moving towards her like she was pulling on a cord. Hermione shivered, blood rushing loudly in her ears.
"Do you ever think about it?"
"All the time."
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He was so close, so close. Hermione could feel the heat radiating from his body, and it was scorching her. His lips were millimetres away.
"Granger..." Merlin, his voice. That low, gravelly drawl she remembered all too well. She felt herself melting, her heart running wild.
The barest touch of breath on breath. She closed her eyes, her lips parting and the air was fire between their mouths. He took her bottom lip between his own as he inhaled, softly brushing it with his tongue. She suckled it into her mouth, caressing it with her own and one of them whimpered. The other shuddered on a moan.
"Drake! Hermione! Have you killed each other yet? You have been gone an awful long time!" Winnie was shouting. They heard Paolo giggle.
Shutting his eyes tight for a moment, he pulled away with a frustrated exhale. She cupped his cheek with an unsteady hand, panting, unable to talk, and he held it there and kissed her palm, his own hand trembling.
"Tomorrow, Granger." he murmured against her skin. And she hoped it was a promise.