Chapter Eighteen

Please be aware, Mr. Malfoy, that we have received and are processing your request for Grenadian Thestral Hoof Enamel. As you are well aware, the item you ordered is extremely rare and difficult to find. Please be aware that it may be some weeks before you receive your delivery.

We would also like you to note, Mr. Malfoy, that because of the magical substance of your request, the Ministry of Magic will be sure to intervene at the slightest notion of any misuse of this product. Please use caution with your endeavor.

Best regards,

Damocles Pickett

Secretary of Magic Safety Department

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The parchment was brittle, but it looked fresh; Hermione thought it looked like it had been read over quite a few times. In the bottom right-hand corner of the page, Lucius Malfoy's calligraphic script had written a name: Carissa Baxter.

Hermione looked up from the parchment, not quite sure what to make of it. Here she had thought Draco was going to show her some conversation regarding a conspiracy and instead she had been handed a shipping note regarding an extremely obscure potion-making ingredient.

"Well what would your dad need Grenadian Thestral Hoof Enamel for? I've never even heard of it."

Draco frowned, "I looked it up in the library."

Hermione managed a smile, wondering for an instant how she could have hated Draco so deeply before. When he wasn't sure of things, he went to the library! He couldn't be THAT bad…

He continued, "It's a powerful potion ingredient, actually. Mostly it's used for spirit resurrection."

Hermione's shadow of a smile vanished. "Like ghosts?"

He nodded solemnly, "Exactly."

"But who would he want…" Hermione began, but stopped mid-sentence because her blood seemed to have frozen in fear.

"Can you think of no one? The only time my father had all the power he ever wanted was when the Dark Lord was in power. Power and money are the two things my father loves best."

"So… you think… that your father… wants to resurrect Voldemort?"

Draco cringed at the name and massaged his forearm tenderly. "Something like that. Maybe he thinks that if he can bring back an insubstantial form of the Dark Lord that has no physical power itself, that spirit will let HIM run things. He never much liked being the subordinate."

Hermione was silent for a long while before she picked up the piece of parchment again to examine it. It was only three days old, according to the date on top. "Who is Carissa Baxter, do you think?"

"I've been trying to find out. She hasn't written any books, she's not a member of the Ministry… I have nothing on her."

"Maybe that's just it. Maybe she's not as important as those things. She could be a tool for this whole plot," Hermione suggested.

Draco stared at her, feeling stupid for not already having thought of that possibility. Hermione's eyes flickered to his face once, twice, three times before she lowered her gaze. No matter how hard she attempted to restore her self-assurance, she just couldn't look Draco in the face.

"Why do you always lower your gaze when you…" Draco blurted out. (Only he didn't really "blurt"… it was way more nonchalant than that). He stopped, "Never mind. I don't really want to know, anyway."

The silence in the room was humiliating; Hermione's face grew red and she struggled to think of something to say.

Finally, "I'll work on finding Carissa Baxter."

"Fine," he agreed.

"Goodnight," she squeaked, making a beeline for the door.

He didn't reply. She didn't look back as she closed the door behind her, either.

What was she feeling about him? She knew she didn't hate him, by any means. She almost cared for him in the way one cares about an acquaintance: But what about the vice versa? For some reason, Hermione just couldn't picture Draco caring about her even in the slightest way.

What if Harry had been right? Was Draco planning some ulterior motive? If so, perhaps the whole point of showing her the parchment was to lead her off his true point. But why would he bother? From what Harry had told her, Draco had been the one to call the hospital on the day when…

No.

There had been so many times he could have harmed her over the summer so far, she didn't even think she could count them all on her fingers. It would have been too easy to kill her when they had been on the run. No one in the troupe knew their true identity, and there were plenty of times where it would have been easy to hide a body and pretend she'd gotten lost or wandered off.

Something was staying his hand, or else there was no motive. That was for certain. Without knowing why, Hermione found the thought slightly alluring in a decidedly dangerous way. She chided herself for her thoughts as she turned the handle to head back into her bedroom.

Ginny had decided to stay the night, instead of opting to return with the boys in the morning. The redhead had solemnly sworn to stay awake to hear about Hermione's meeting with Draco, but as it turned out, she had fallen asleep; Her mouth was slightly open and she was snoring softly, a wisp of hair fluttering gently in front of her nose.

Hermione smiled and tucked herself into bed, willing sleep to come quickly. Her attempts were futile and she remained awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling, for hours.

.

.

"I'm guessing you didn't pick these out, huh?" Ginny remarked, amused. The redhead twirled in front of the mirror, enjoying herself more than she knew she should.

Hermione shook her head no; She'd had nothing to do with the planning of the bridesmaid's dress. The vibrant pink clashed terribly with Ginny's hair.

"This whole thing is an awful mess," Hermione bemoaned, burying her face in her hands.

Ginny was immediately somber, "Why can't we try to run again? The ceremony is tomorrow, it wouldn't be that hard to lay low for a few…"

"Tea, miss?" George prompted, appearing magically in the corner.

"No thank you, George."

"At your service," he bowed, disapparating once more.

"That's why," Hermione answered. "They've got the whole building spying on me, I think."

"Why the heck are they so persistent, anyway?" Ginny flared. "I mean, they could have at least allowed you the decency of a CHOICE in the matter!"

A knock on the door interrupted Ginny's rant. "Come in," Hermione called, wondering who had the decency to knock anymore.

Both girls looked at the door expectantly; Draco emerged into the room, appearing quite out of place in the Victorian-style room with its fluttering white curtains.

Draco caught sight of Ginny; The two had not come face to face yet, since the attempted escape. "Pink's not really your color, is it?" he sneered.

Ginny turned a bright red and retorted, "Polite's not really YOUR color, is it, Malfoy?"

Hermione couldn't help it; She giggled. Draco shot her a look. "I need to talk to you."

"Be back in a second, Ginny," Hermione promised, rising from the embroidered seat cushion. The redhead nodded, pulling out her wand and experimenting with the color of the dress in front of the wall mirror.

As soon as the two were safely in the hallway, Draco glanced around furtively. Finally deciding they were unheard for the moment, he whispered, "My father's meeting with a guest right now in the parlor downstairs in the East Wing. It's a woman."

"Carissa Baxter?"

"I think so."

"Well let's go check it out! I'll go ask Ginny if she has any extendable ears!" Hermione made a motion to go, but Draco stopped her with a hand on her shoulder; It was a touch so burning hot, she had to shrug it off.

"They've put spells on the room. We'll just have to see if we can figure out where she lives and follow her."

"But that's illegal!" Hermione protested.

Draco cocked one eyebrow as he regarded her with incredulity, "You're worrying about the legality of finding out why they're forcing us to get married?"

She blushed. "Well… no, I guess, when you put it that way…" she stammered.

"Let's go."

"Wait! Let me just tell Ginny…"

"That's alright, I was listening at the door anyway," Ginny piped up, nudging the door open. "I was curious."

Draco muttered something unintelligible, though it sounded like a curse. Hermione ignored him, "That's okay. I'll be back soon…"

"That's okay. I can cause a diversion – make a big deal about the garlands or something. Who IS this Baxter woman, anyway?"

"That's what we're trying to find out."

Ginny's brow furrowed, "You know, it's weird. The name sounds kind of familiar. I think I remember that name from somewhere… now, if only… oh!" The redhead's frown was so deep, her eyebrows nearly met in the middle.

"What is it?"

"Professor Trelawny mentioned Carissa Baxter once," Ginny remembered, "that's what I remember it from, I'm pretty sure."

Draco looked alarmed, "We'd better hurry. C'mon, let's go."

.

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Author's Note: I didn't really like this chapter when I read it over, but it was time for an update. Guess I can always write a better one net and redeem myself then, hmm?

Thanks a ton: brooklynsam3, Readerforlife, sureynot, and RIPJameSiriusLupinTrueMarauder for the reviews!!

RIPJameSiriusLupinTrueMarauder - Glad to be of service! haha