Disclaimer: Not mine
Chapter three
Ron is back from Albania by Wednesday, with no new leads except a huge migraine and a frustrated demeanor. Hermione doesn't meet him at King's Cross, like they'd previously planned. She has a conveniently scheduled meeting with Draco at five, and Ginny is to go to in her place.
So instead of greeting her best friend and boyfriend, she currently sits in Draco Malfoy's office, staring out the window at the London skyline. There is the heavy traffic of rush hour, as workers hasten to go home.
Hermione takes a sip of her tea.
"I still don't understand why you chose me, out of all people," she says, propping her chin up with her elbow on the desk. She sighs, and her hands push away a stack of papers that blocks her view. "You hate me."
Draco frowns and looks over his laptop to meet her eyes. There is a pause for several beats before he opens his mouth, and Hermione frowns. "It is merely a matter of convenience in terms of information that you know and no one else other than me does," he finally responds, silkily.
His voice is glib and smooth, a voice for persuasion. Hermione thinks that if he weren't a highly successful financier, then he'd be a highly successful entrepreneur. It's strange, how they've all turned out. She'd never imagined working as a lawyer.
"I have a guess about that," she begins. "I have a guess on how that information is connected to Blood Tsunami, but I'm not certain. I don't see how what you told me on Friday corresponds to the investigation."
Draco shrugs lightly. "Let's hope I don't have to tell you," he says vaguely. His lip twitches slightly after his statement, and Hermione narrows her eyes suspicion. She opens her mouth to protest and demand he give a proper answer when he interrupts her with a claim that they should review the information they have so far.
"This is more important," he says. "We should go over it again."
Hermione shoots him a searching look that Draco ignores.
Instead, he looks down to evaluate the typed document open on the laptop, and then reads it aloud. "Blood Tsunami is a small group of dark wizards that seek an unknown object. They have been spotted in Albania before, and we also know that membership is only granted to certain witches and wizards." There is a pause. "These members all wear hooded cloaks and have red masks that resemble the former Death Eater design."
Sighing, Hermione concedes to the topic. She analyzes the given information with pursed lips. "They must be related in some way to the Death Eaters," she says slowly. "Perhaps some of the former members are part of the new group?"
She thinks of the blonde figure under lamplight, and matches it up to the profile sitting across from her. They're similar, a little too similar. It's all kind of suspicious.
"Maybe a former member founded the group," Draco suggests. "Also, the Dark Lord was in Albania before he regained his body. That might have a connection."
Hermione raises her teacup, and brings it to her lips. The liquid inside is now only lukewarm, but it doesn't deter her from draining the cup. Draco was a Death Eater, wasn't he? Maybe he's the former member that founded the group. Maybe he wants her with him to throw off her suspicions. Maybe she's here as part of his grand plans.
Hermione blanches, thinking of divisions that shouldn't be forgotten. "Show me your arm," she says suddenly.
Draco shoots her a confused look, and offers his right wrist around the laptop. His skin is pale and smooth against the mahogany desk. Hermione pins him with a stony stare.
"Other arm," she deadpans.
A brief flash of consternation flickers in his eyes, but he obeys the order. Slowly, his appendage stretches toward her, and Hermione pushes up his sleeve. His skin is cold to the touch, and with humour, she thinks that he could've been a vampire. Then the humour disappears as she turns his arm to reveal the tattoo on his inner forearm.
It's faded by now, only a gray blemish on the otherwise pristine skin, but it's a symbolic blemish. I was a Death Eater once, it says. I hate muggle-borns. I hate people like you.
Hermione lets go of his arm abruptly. She stands up, and pushes in her chair. "I just remembered," she says suddenly, hastily. "I'm supposed to go to the Burrow for dinner. We should continue this some other time."
Her last words are a mumbled mess, but it doesn't matter as she staggers toward the door. Maybe it's irrational, but she doesn't care. The only thing that matters right now is getting out. She might have forgot for a moment who they are, but it's okay now and she'll get back on track.
"Granger, what-"
"I'm sorry. Malfoy, I can't-"
Suddenly, the door flies open, nearly hitting Hermione in the nose.
"Hey, Draco-" a voice begins.
It trails off, as soon as the owner of it enters the room, and looks around. Draco blinks hard and Hermione stumbles back from the door. They both stare at the third, unknowing occupant of the office, putting their own issues on pause for the moment.
"Francis," Draco greets, voice strained. "What are you doing here?"
The man shrugs nonchalantly, a smile playing on his lips. Hermione studies him, filing his appearance away for future reference. Francis is the kind of guy that might appear on the cover of a magazine, she notes. He's tall, well-built and blonde, with straight white teeth and slanted eyebrows.
"I just wanted to pay you a visit," he answers innocently in response. "After all, brothers should look after each other, no?"
"What?" Hermione chokes out. "Malfoy's an only child!"
Francis nods gravely and Draco sputters from behind his desk. "I know," the former says. "We're not truly blood brothers. I simply delight in referring to our relationship as such since Draco finds it demeaning."
"Bloody right it's demeaning," Draco snaps, finally finding his voice. His lips twist with displeasure, and his eyes narrow. "And I happen to be having a meeting with someone. I'd appreciate if you'd knock next time."
"Oh?" Francis' perfectly slanted eyebrows rise slightly. "From what I saw, it was already finishing." He turns to Hermione and nods slightly. "Ms. Granger, pleasure to make your acquaintance, but I'm afraid that Draco and I have important matters to discuss. It would be excellent if you were to continue this impromptu conference some other time."
"I…" Hermione frowns. "I was just leaving. I'll go. Pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, Mr.…?"
Francis smiles mysteriously. "Just call me Francis," he says. Then he pushes her out of the office and slams the door in her face.
Charming.
-:-
"Hermione," Mrs. Weasley says, smiling. "This is a surprise. We haven't had you over in a while."
"Yeah," she answers, almost awkwardly. "I guess I've just been busy lately."
"Of course, don't worry about it."
"Thank you."
On some level, Mrs. Weasley probably senses her reticence, and doesn't make any further comments as Hermione joins Ginny at the dinner table. As soon as she sits down, the other girl immediately shoots her a sharp look from narrowed brown eyes. It's a look that promises an explanation after dinner. Still, Hermione thinks, somewhat bitterly, Ginny isn't the only one that wants to demand an explanation. Lavender Brown's unwanted presence at the table inspires some really interesting questions. It's probably not really healthy that she itches to grab her spoon, jump across the table, and gouge the stupid, blonde bint's stupid eyes out.
She winces. Maybe that last one's a little too violent.
"Hey, Hermione," Harry says from across the table. "How has work been?"
It's obvious that he's trying to draw her in a conversation, and she wonders if her desire to maul Lavender is that obvious.
"Fine," Hermione answers. "The only thing is that the incompetents I'm working with are still bringing up Lucius Malfoy's case. It's ridiculous."
Harry makes a face around his potatoes. "It's those stuffy old Heads of House being stupid as usual. The ministry's gotten better under Kingsley, but some things are just incurable."
"I agree." There is a brief pause, and Harry swallows his potatoes. Hermione pokes at the food on her plate. It looks delicious, but she's not really hungry. A quick glance to Harry's left reveals Ron and Lavender whispering to each other, and Mrs. Weasley smiling at them fondly. Her desire to eat drops several notches, and she makes the effort to start another conversation.
"Listen," Hermione begins, "about that trip to Albania. What were you looking for?"
Harry looks distinctively uncomfortable, and the change in discussion is enough to bring Mr. Weasley into the conversation.
"About Albania," Mr. Weasley says, frowning. "Does it have anything to do with the newspapers on those Death Eaters?" he questions. "You-Know-Who's been gone for a long time now, properly gone, so I doubt he could form another group. But the Prophet sounded pretty serious about what they said."
"Voldemort's dead," Harry declares. "This problem has to do with something else, another order."
Hermione bites her lip. "It's Blood Tsunami, isn't it."
It's not a question, and Harry hears it in her tone. The atmosphere is suddenly tense, and Hermione watches as Harry takes a sharp breath, and then breathes out slowly. His eyes- Lily Evans' eyes- are hard. Emotions swim like fish in the green depths.
In the end, it's Mr. Weasley that speaks first.
"Who told you, Hermione? It wasn't in the newspaper, I know."
"I…" she falters. "Someone in the auror department let me know."
The lie spills out of her mouth a fraction too fast, but neither man notices. Harry catches the part where she mentions an auror, and Mr. Weasley is fixated on the fact that she even knows the name of the organization. Hermione lets out a small sigh of relief or guilt- she doesn't know.
Harry scowls. "It's supposed to be confidential information. Who told you?"
"Um," Hermione mutters. "I don't remember. It doesn't matter anyway. I'm sure he meant no harm."
Harry opens his mouth to argue again, but she shoots him a sharp look that would probably stop a dementor in its tracks.
"Okay," he agrees reluctantly. "I'll stop asking."
"You do that," Hermione says, and looks back down at her plate. Sighing, she crams a piece of broccoli into her mouth, and slowly finishes up her dinner. It doesn't help that Lavender is giggling the whole time.
-:-
"So?" Ginny questions as soon as they're safely in her former bedroom. She raises an eyebrow. "Spill, 'Mione. What's so important that you had to miss picking up Harry and Ron? It wasn't a date, was it? I mean, Ron's crappy, but I'd rather you didn't cheat on my brother."
Hermione blinks once, then twice. "…What the hell?"
"Well?" Ginny prompts. She crosses her arms. "Was it a date?"
Hermione takes out her wand. "Muffliato," she bites out, and then purses her lips as the spell takes effect. She waits a few beats before responding. "It wasn't a date. It was a meeting for work."
"Oh." Ginny deflates, and looks disappointed and relieved at the same time.
Hermione feels guilty and relieved at the same time. It's another lie, and an hour hasn't even passed. Technically, she's only being vague, but it doesn't lessen the sense of immorality and being a bad friend. Ginny isn't out to harm anyone, but somehow, Hermione feels compelled to keep the investigation with Draco to herself.
"So, Luna's wedding is soon," she begins awkwardly, with a pathetic attempt to salvage the conversation and redirect the topic. "She's deciding between lilies and petunias, didn't you say? My suggestion is that she uses lilies."
Ginny plops down onto the bed and pats the empty spot beside her. As she waits for Hermione to join her, her fingers tap on the white duvet. Her brown eyes skim over the furniture in the room, and then change direction to stare at the pale lavender walls.
"You don't really want to talk about Luna's wedding, do you?" she questions slowly. "We've gone over what flowers there are going to be a thousand times, and the colours were chosen three months ago. The bridesmaid dresses Luna handpicked and we only put off getting the other dresses for last Saturday since you refused to go. That's not what you're concerned about." There is a brief pause. "Now tell me what the issue is here," Ginny demands.
Hermione shrugs guiltily, her thoughts flipping to blonde hair, a ridiculous smirk and a drunken slur. Is it weird that she likes talking to Draco when he's intoxicated? She shakes away the thoughts, and conjures up a passable reply. "I would, but-"
Ginny scoffs. "We're not talking about war intelligence here. We're talking about Lavender Brown. Get back on your feet, you idiot! I'm sure you're Gryffindor enough to march up to her and tell her to bugger off and leave Ron alone." As Hermione opens up her mouth to protest, Ginny shakes her head. "I saw how you were eyeing her at dinner, okay? Now suck it up, and be a man. Go punch her."
Hermione lets an amused smile curve up her lips. "Your pep talks were always the best. Harry was so preoccupied with his demons that his always turned out unenthusiastic. Ron never believed in himself."
"You know it, girl," Ginny winks. "Now get back on your feet, and fight back."
Hermione nods firmly, but instead of thinking about her love life, dark wizards occupy the majority of her thoughts. Ginny has said all that needs to be said aloud. Blood Tsunami isn't going to win without a fight.