Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine
Chapter four
"It's going to be fabulous on Sunday," Hermione notes, smiling. She pulls her cloak tighter around her shoulders and slips her purse higher up on her arm. "The rehearsal today went well," she adds.
Luna nods in agreement, serene as always, silver eyes bright. "I can't wait," she pronounces. "N-Rolf is going to look fabulous."
Hermione nods absently in distracted agreement, ignoring the slip on her friend's future husband's name. She waves to Luna in effort to bid the other girl goodbye, and smiles wanly. Then she pushes open the doors, and makes her way out of the hall and into the night air. It's dark and sort of cold outside, with a sharp, unforgiving wind that nips at her face.
"Wonderful," she murmurs to herself.
Hermione sighs and déjà vu echoes in her head. She half expects to see a red mask and blonde hair any moment now, which probably isn't healthy at all. She takes several cautious steps forward, almost as if to assess the night. It doesn't past the test, especially as a pale head of hair makes itself known about three metres ahead of her. Quickening her footsteps, she moves forward, lips tight. At least it isn't a surprise this time. Her fingers grasp at her wand.
"Lumos," she bites out.
The figure in front of her whips around and the light illuminates his pale, sharp features. There is surprise that flickers on his face, then his eyes narrow for sharp distaste. "Granger," is his cold greeting. Her name rolls casually off his tongue.
Hermione recognizes the voice. "Malfoy," she returns tensely, not bothering to conceal the measure of contempt she has for him. "What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here?" he repeats. A hint of amusement colours his tone. "I don't know. What am I doing here?"
"You slimy bastard," Hermione seethes, mood plummeting from happiness for her friend to frustration and anger at the stupid git standing in front of her. It's almost illogical how quick the directions of her thoughts change, but the recent events have stretched her patience. Blood Tsunami and work takes up most of her waking hours, and there's barely any free time left. If there is, then it's spent on pining over Ron and staring at her wall, trying to get the courage to apparate to the flat that he and Harry share.
"Yes, I believe I am a bastard," Draco murmurs in reply, sounding a fraction too pleased with himself. "It's a Slytherin trait, no? Though skirting around questions might have some Ravenclaw origins. Astoria would be so proud." The last part is said with a cynical, sarcastic drawl.
Hermione grits her teeth at his working attempts at pushing her buttons. "Are you asking for a duel?" she snaps. "If so, then it would be my pleasure to hand you your arse on a silver platter after I chop it up into a million pieces."
A flicker of something passes through his silver eyes, but it's gone in an instant. "Always so quick to fight, you Gryffindors," Draco almost purrs. "Just what has stretched your nerves so taut, hmm Granger?"
Hermione ignores the taunt. She sees the opportunity to turn the conversation around and seizes it. "I won't answer your question, Malfoy," she insists, "until you answer mine. In fact, I'll even repeat it for you. What are you doing here?"
There is a pause.
Then Draco smiles morosely, and his shoulders shift just the slightest, with the mood. "I'll give you a hint," he says. "I was on someone's tail until you interrupted me. It's someone my mother doesn't quite approve of." His expression turns wry as mother slips out of his mouth,
Hermione narrows her eyes, and frowns. Assuming Draco isn't lying, he's following someone, someone that his mother wouldn't like. So is he following a criminal? Is it someone she knows? Her blood chills. What if it's a member of Blood Tsunami? What if he is lying and he's the member of Blood Tsunami?
"What-"She opens her mouth to say something, to narrow down the possibilities. But before a sound can escape her lips, Draco's wand is already up. "Hey! I-"
Her wand is up a second later in defense, but it turns out she doesn't need it. Because instead of flicking his wand fluidly, it stays steady as he vanishes in a vortex of motion. Apparation, she identifies. Hermione lets out a hiss of frustration at his untimely escape, and wonders what it is with strange blondes disappearing on her after a late night event.
"Bloody Malfoy," she mutters to no one particular. "The minute you think he might actually be collaborating, he comes in and ruins it with a load of rubbish."
-:-
The scene in the Ministry's atrium can appropriately be summed up with three words: what, the and hell, Hermione thinks, as soon as she walks in and joins the crowd gathered around the spectacle.
There's nothing wrong with the décor. In fact, she finds the peacock blue ceiling tastefully selected and the glossy, dark floors a measure of elegance. The fireplaces on the side are lined up carefully and on opposite walls, with warm, orange-red flames flickering within.
The ambience is pleasant- if you ignore the wall on the furthest side, which is a completely different story.
It's stained red, from paint or blood, she doesn't want to know. A crowd of wizards are depicted on the simulacrum of a plaque, engulfed in a wave of blood. In red scrawl, near the top, there is an imitation of a child's vandalism, and it boasts Blood Tsunami waz here.It's rather symbolic: disturbing, but symbolic, and the worker from the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts that is sprawled across the floor completes the picture.
There's nothing like a pasty-looking corpse to give something a little more character.
Hermione swallows at the sight, suddenly feeling the bile in her throat. The thoughtless killing of a civilian is what Blood Tsunami engages in. Suddenly, she's more eager to sit back in Draco's office and catch the bastards that are part of the new cult.
He can be a bastard all he wants, but she knows his cause is just, if his motives aren't.
"Morbid." someone comments from behind her among crowd of witches and wizards standing around the scene, equally shocked and horrified.
Hermione whips around immediately, hand on her wand, but then relaxes as she recognizes one of the trainee aurors under Harry. "It's purposely done this way," she responds, lips twisted with something halfway in between disgust and thoughtful analysis. "They want attention."
The trainee auror- Hermione doesn't quite remember his name- frowns. "What do they want so badly to try and get the Ministry's notice, and especially through this way?" he questions rhetorically, his voice filled with the underlining of frustration. "Who are they anyway? I remember the article in the Prophet, but it tells us nothing about what Blood Tsunami is and what they do."
Hermione bites her lip. "Look more closely," she says, answering anyway, directing her eyes away from the body lying under Blood Tsunami's work. "There is a title for this in the bottom left corner of the plaque. It seems to be directed at Wizarding Britain."
The trainee narrows his eyes uneasily, and spares a glance at the indicated place. Slowly, he drifts closer, pushing his way through the crowd. As soon as he gets close enough to discern the words, he reads aloud, "Reform, by Blood Tsunami."
"Reform," Hermione agrees, and pauses a moment to explain her thoughts on the single word, but someone beats her to it.
"Yes, reform," someone's- male- voice blares over the crowd gathered around, with the obvious aid of a spell. "Blood Tsunami wants reform of the government. Remember the story in the newspaper about them? This is what they can do. They've killed a man from one of our departments, and as this plaque shows, they aren't afraid to do more. Are we going to let them keep going?"
The response is almost immediate.
"Hell no!"
"They're nothing we can't handle."
"We don't need reform!" are among the various yelled responses to the question.
Hermione blinks in surprise at the interruption, trying to push forward and find the identity of the speaker. His interruption is awfully convenient. And as well, his voice sounds sort of familiar, like she's maybe met him before. Unfortunately, it seems like everyone else has the same thoughts of finding out who's there, as they push forward to overwhelm the man at the center of the crowd.
She presses her lips together, and lets the crowd wave past her. Turning around, Hermione starts to make her way to an apparition point. She doubts she'll be able to work today.
Then suddenly, her mind drifts back to the Ministry worker still sprawled across the floor, and winces. She thinks of a devastated family, pale, disbelieving faces and mournful black clothing. That worker, whoever he was, doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve to die. Hermione isn't naïve enough to believe that she can do something about it, but…
Carefully, she picks her way toward the discarded body and conjures up a bouquet of flowers. She lays them on the corpse gently, and murmurs a prayer.
A minute later, Hermione stands up, ready to head back to her flat when someone grabs her arm.
"We need to talk."
-:-
Sorry for not updating. I've been pretty busy, and I've only had time to get this half-assed chapter out. Anyway, I was just thinking that this story is really slow, and I was wondering if I should get over Luna's wedding then speed it up a lot. It'd be great to have other opinions on that, if possible. Thank you all for reading.