CHAPTER NINE: A mission
"Malfoy!"
"Potter."
They glared at each other, both clearly in shock that they met here of all places, just outside of Hermione Granger's office.
"Actually, you might be just the person I need!" the Chosen One bellowed, much to Draco's surprise.
"I might?"
"I'm sorry, sir," said Astoria, getting between them with a cold smile. "But you don't have an appointment. And Madame Minister is busy. She has a meeting in fifteen minutes."
"Cancel it then!"
Both Draco and Astoria stared at him with utmost surprise on their faces.
"Excuse me?" asked Greengrass angrily. "I take orders from a different chosen one. You know, in the election. By actual people?"
Malfoy chuckled, but after seeing Harry's expression – he cleared his throat and composed himself.
"This is urgent!"
"I can see that, sir, but you have to have an appointment should you wish to see Madame Minister," she informed him coldly, standing between him and the office.
Hermione peeked from behind the door to see what the commotion was about. When she saw that Harry and Astoria were at each other's throats and Draco watched the scene with amusement and trying not to laugh, she hurried to intervene.
"Astoria, what's going on?" she asked.
"This man, oblivious to other's plans or schedules, wanted to see you. No matter the fact that I've informed him that Madame Minister has a meeting!" she said through the gritted teeth.
"And I told you to cancel it! It's important!" bellowed Harry, finally losing his cool. Draco was on the verge of tears from suppressing the laugh.
"Astoria, I really appreciate your devotion to your job, and I absolutely applaud you for reacting the way you did. Well, maybe you've overdone it a bit, but we'll talk about it later – the point is, I trust Harry with my life," stated Hermione calmly. "If he says you should cancel my meeting, do so."
"But-"
"I have quite a lot of free time on Thursday if I recall correctly. Apologise to Percy from me and explain that it was the Ministry matter. I'm sure he'll understand," she said softly but decisively.
Astoria nodded gloomily and sat down to write a letter to Percy. She gave Harry a dirty look before they came into the office.
Hermione sat behind her desk, clasping her hands and watching the two men intently.
"And… are you going to tell me what is Malfoy doing here?" she demanded, nodding his way.
"Listen," said Harry excitedly, sitting down opposite her. "Since Ron gave up the job as an Auror and went to work in that stupid shop-"
"Stupid shop which you gave the money for"
"Yeah, the point is," pressured Harry. "I don't have any Aurors I trust 100%-"
"Maybe you should hire new ones, then," jeered Draco.
"And that case that I have on my hands right now… I need people that I could trust with my life."
"I'm sorry, what am I doing here, then, Potter?" asked Draco, rolling his eyes. "Because if you ask me about friendship one more time, I swear I-"
"You could swallow your pride for once, Malfoy, and listen to what I have to say. Because this is the opportunity to finally prove yourself. And don't lie to me saying you don't care about it. You do, and all three of us in this room know it. So shut up and listen," hissed Harry, glaring daggers at him.
Whatever it was in his voice made him shut up. Malfoy raised an eyebrow and started staring at Harry intently as if challenging him to say something interesting.
"Now," said Harry, shifting his attention back to dumbfounded Hermione. "Are you sure this room is not bugged?"
"Bugged?" asked Draco in such a weirdly high voice that both Hermione and Harry found hilarious. He frantically looked around the room.
"Who would've thought that the Draco Malfoy is scared of such harmless, tiny little creatures?" mocked Harry.
"Bugs are devices that allow persons outside of this office to eavesdrop on our conversation. Sort of like Extendable Ears?" explained Hermione calmly, but with an amused smile.
"So?"
"And yes, Harry, I am sure this room is not bugged. I'm no Dumbledore, but I would be honestly surprised if someone managed to deceive me this way," she said with a smug smile that would put Malfoy to shame.
"All right, then, listen. I'm very close to uncovering the gang that's been behind Kingsley's death."
"What? Harry, that's wonderful!"
"Yes, it may be, but it's going to be extremely dangerous, and the scheme goes deeper than I thought. They must have a man here, in the Ministry. That's why I need people who I absolutely trust, and that's why I can't work with anyone from Auror's Office. It must've been an Auror."
"Are you sure, Harry? It could've been-"
"No, Hermione. Aurors were in charge of security that night, remember? And the security was tight. So, although it pains me to admit, it must've been one of my people."
Harry and Hermione exchanged uneasy glances, but Malfoy – who was sitting with his arms crossed – just snorted.
"I still don't understand what I'm doing here. You don't exactly trust me, do you?"
"No, but Hermione does," said Harry simply.
"I do?" she asked, taken aback.
Harry rolled his eyes. "You hired him, 'Mione. And even he is not that stupid to waste the chance you've given him. Besides, we need exactly someone like him for this mission."
"How so?" asked Malfoy, not even trying to hide his scepticism.
"Because we're going to let you straight into the dragon's den," Harry smiled conspiratorially.
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"He wants you to go undercover," whispered Hermione, realising she was now terrified. Clearly, not for his life. Why would she? It was this mission. Yes, that was it. Bringing Kingsley's killers to justice. A lot was at stake, and a lot could go wrong.
"Undercover?"
Harry nodded, leaning slightly forward.
"Yes. You're going to have to ask your father for help-"
"My father doesn't work with them anymore, hasn't had been in contact with any of them since you killed the Dark Lord," Draco cut in.
"I know," sighed Harry irritably. "But he should know how to contact the Death Eaters. And he will know which one of them would be stupid enough to continue to participate in… some sort of gang."
Draco nodded reluctantly.
"So a draft of the plan looks more or less like this: you contact your father, then you contact the chosen Death Eater. You're going to give them information about Hermione. And some about me."
"What?" both Draco and Hermione asked at the same time, both terrified.
"Would you two just listen?" asked Harry angrily. "It's a brilliant plan! Unless you two can come up with something better, just shut up and listen!"
The Chosen One was certainly not in the mood today, noticed Hermione. He was probably stressed out about the whole thing, rightfully so apparently. After Kingsley's death, he'd been working non-stop for two weeks until Ginny had slipped him some Sleeping Draught. It was clear that Harry took the assassination personally and, on top of that, blamed himself for it happening in the first place.
"Obviously, we'll choose the information you give them," he continued. "But it will have to be both true and valuable. Just remember how Snape used to do it, yeah? So once you give the information to them, just ask what they're up to now and if you can help them. But for the love of Merlin, be a proper spy and don't let them sniff something out, would you?"
Draco chuckled and smiled smugly.
"Don't know if you can remember this, Potter, but I happen to be excellent at Occlumency. I can do it."
"I know you can," admitted Harry with a wry smile. "But don't let your ego get in the way, would you?"
Malfoy nodded his head reluctantly with a grimace.
"Great," Harry clasped his hands. "Once you know something about them, you come back to us. Hopefully, you'll know where they're hiding, and we simply bust them. If not, we continue to play this game."
"So everything seems like a wonderful plan and all," said Draco, smiling forcefully. "But what if they don't believe me? Or, I don't know, you bust just half of them, and the rest is after me?"
"We will give you the protection in that case, but… Overall, that's just the risk you're going to have to take."
"And pray tell, what makes you think that this is the risk I'm going to take?" he asked, half-amused.
"Because, Malfoy, for once, you get to be a hero."
The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped a few degrees. Hermione looked between the two men frantically. What the hell was even going on? Was Harry really considering putting Draco in that situation? Not that she cared, obviously, but it was a lot to sacrifice!
"I don't care about the medals or whatever," Draco huffed.
"No, you don't. But you care about respect, don't you? And that's something that'll get you a lot of it."
Malfoy sized him up. It was ridiculous. Putting oneself in such danger? And what for? To catch some deranged wizards? Most of them couldn't distinguish one end of a wand from the other. But then, again. What did he have to lose? He came back, got a job. His parents were safe. But everywhere he went, there were people. Staring at him, spitting. Sometimes they even yelled some slurs at him if they had enough nerve. What did he really have to lose? A life, that one was obvious. But the fate once again presented him the opportunity to make life better for himself. Was he really going to waste it?
He turned to Hermione. For the first time ever, he let himself, consciously, get lost in her warm, brown eyes. Her face may not have shown it so clearly – but her slightly widened eyes did – she was terrified. For him? Maybe. It wasn't the reason for his decision, but it somehow made it easier.
"All right then, Potter," he said, shifting his gaze back to the black-haired man. "But I expect a hell of a raise for this one, friend."
Not a few days later, they were standing in front of the enormous, impressive building. It had its charm in the past, but now it was the place of memories – haunting and recurrent memories. Hermione shivered. Draco gave her a concerned look but didn't dare to say anything in front of Potter.
To be honest, Draco wasn't fond of this place, either. Not the outside, at least. The interior had been renovated so much after the war, it hardly resembled its prototype. Mostly because his parents didn't want to move out – of course, it was an architectural gem and a family legacy – but they also couldn't bear to look at this place the way it was. With these memories. With him silently roaming around the corridors as if he had never left and had never been destroyed.
"Don't worry, Granger," he whispered to her, who was looking around frantically. "The insides are unrecognisable."
He noticed she was trembling, so he squeezed her hand. Hermione was surprised at the gesture but managed to smile weakly at him. They went in through the tall, metal gate with Malfoy's crest on it. Because of the late autumn, the gardens weren't very uplifting. Most of the colourful leaves had already turned grey. And so many flowers that were seen here during spring and summer have decayed as well. And the fog. It had its charm but in a more eerie way.
They crossed the garden, the huge porch and arrived at the front door with yet another family crest on them. Draco knocked.
It was Narcissa who opened. Her son had obviously warned her who was coming to visit, but her smile still wasn't entirely believable. Either way, Hermione saw and appreciated that she was trying. She led them through the corridor to the enormous living room with many high windows. Hermione knew it must've been here where she'd been tortured – but it really was unrecognisable. The walls were in bright colours that matched the light-green curtains and the carpet in a similar shade. Their furniture was wooden, which toned in with the rest of the room. They were seated at the grand mahogany table that had already been set with the cups and side plates. There was cake as well, much to both Hermione's and Harry's surprise.
"Would you like tea or coffee?" Narcissa asked politely. "And please, help yourself to the cheesecake."
They had to give it to Narcissa – she certainly made a good hostess. Hermione regretfully thought that she was literally bred for the role. She wondered whether Draco's mother at least enjoyed some of these chores.
"Coffee for me, thank you," said Hermione, smiling at her.
"For me, too," added Harry, looking in awe around the room.
"Don't you have a house-elf?" whispered Hermione to Draco, once she saw that Narcissa went to the kitchen to make the coffee herself.
"No," he answered. "Not since the war. Mostly so that mum would have something to do. She – uh – wanted to keep herself occupied. But another reason was you."
She looked him in the eyes and cursed herself for making that mistake again. She thanked Merlin and all the Hogwarts' founders that she was sitting because she wasn't sure she'd be otherwise able to stand.
A minute later, Narcissa emerged from the kitchen with her husband – who was carrying a tray with the teacups. She smiled warmly at him, and so Hermione averted her gaze as if she interrupted something intimate.
They all sat down at the table. The rest four gaped at Draco, waiting for him to start talking. So he cleared his throat nervously and stared at his clasped hands.
"Father – er – do you remember the time when I was leaving the country, and you told me not to do something stupid?" he asked.
"Yes," Lucius frowned and shot his wife a concerned look.
"Well, I'm about to do something stupid."
"But Draco, I'm sure there's something-"
"No, father, there's no changing my mind," he refuted firmly. "Potter, here, is on the tail of the Death Eater's gang that is responsible for assassinating Shacklebolt. And – uh – I'm going to help him catch them."
Narcissa dropped the teaspoon that clattered to the floor ten times louder than it would in any other circumstances. Lucius just stared at his son, aghast.
"And I need your help," added Draco awkwardly.
His parents shared bewildered and anxious looks. They were so flabbergasted that even Harry started to feel a bit uneasy.
"What kind of help?" asked Lucius finally.
"I need you to tell me which one of them could've joined such a gang and where to find them," he said, keeping his face straight.
Narcissa shrieked.
"Draco, you can't!"
"But I must, mother. Don't you think we've done enough bad things?"
"It doesn't mean you have to prove anything to them, Draco," pleaded Lucius, watching his son clearly terrified.
"I know. I could live my life in peace from now on. Getting spit on, yelled at every other day. Or… Instead, I could do something good for a change and get spit on and get called Voldemort's slut – yeah, that's a real one that happened – only once a week or so."
Harry chuckled appreciatively, but Hermione stared at Draco, frowning – as if she hasn't realised how serious it was just until now.
"I know it's a risk. I know it's stupid," admitted Draco. "But let me do this. Once I'm done with this, I can move on with my life peacefully."
"But Draco, you don't have to care-" started Narcissa.
"I know, I don't have to," he interrupted and sighed tiredly. "But a year ago, I wouldn't have even thought about getting back to the country. Four months ago, I didn't even have a job. Now I'm here. Both of you are finally safe. The last thing that's to be done is this. And not to prove something to others. I don't care about them. To prove something to myself. I hope you can respect my decision."
Narcissa broke out in tears, and Hermione looked as if she was on the verge of doing the same. She didn't realise it was like that… Lucius, however, remained impassive. But after a few seconds, he gave his son a rare and tiny smile. It looked weird on his pale, oblong face, but the sparks in his grey eyes confirmed it wasn't plastered – it was genuine.
"I'm proud of you, son," he said simply.
Draco was left speechless. He stared at his father for a long while – no one said anything. The silence was impenetrable but for the sound of the ticking. There was an antique grandfather clock that stood in the corner of the room and seemed ridiculously loud at the moment.
Finally, Draco shakily got up from his seat and hurried down the corridor.
For some unknown reason, Hermione got up from her seat. She couldn't understand why she's done that, but now everyone was staring at her expectantly. So she had to say something.
"I – er – I'll go get him," she mumbled and left the room quickly before anyone could see she was blushing furiously.
She hurried down the corridor in the mansion she did not know but thankfully noticed that the last door on the right was closing. She rushed there and knocked.
"Come in," said a shaky voice.
She entered quietly, looking around the room. It wasn't very big or furnished – it only had a sofa bed and a single – but enormous – wardrobe. It must've been some sort of guest room. The walls here were grey, but the violet curtains gave this room some colour.
She walked over to Draco – who was sitting on the bed and looking into the distance through a dusty window – and sat down next to him.
"He's never told me that," he whispered.
For some reason – she couldn't explain this as well – she grabbed his hand and squeezed it.
"Then you know you're doing the right thing," she said quietly, staring at the wardrobe in front of them. "The brave thing."
He looked over at her concerned face. Why was it concerned, either way? What did he do to deserve it?
"You're right," he admitted confidently. "The brave thing I didn't do last time you were here."
Her hand automatically landed on her neck, rubbing her scar. The screams, Bellatrix's maniacal laugh, Ron calling her name. It all went back to her so quickly, she started shivering.
Now he grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know I haven't said that enough, but I'm sorry."
"No," she said firmly, looking into his eyes. "You were right before. There was nothing you could've done at his point. It would only get you and your parents killed."
"Maybe I couldn't, but I should've. Keep aunt occupied, anything. But your screams… They still haunt me at night. Luna's tired and sickly face and your screams. I can only imagine what nightmares you have."
"You said that you helped Luna when you could," she whispered.
"Sometimes I'd bring her some food or water, yes, but-"
"To me, and I'm sure to Luna as well, it is something. It means you cared, after all. It shows you weren't indifferent. There are some things that I can't forget. I mean, I – uh – I can try forgiving, but not forgetting. Calling me mudblood, bullying me… But some things were simply out of your hands. I suppose you were proud at first when you were chosen to be the Death Eater, weren't you? But the thing about people is, they learn. Constantly. Some slower, some faster, but they do. And for you, it took maybe a bit longer. But in the end, you understood what an evil person he was, didn't you? You couldn't have killed Dumbledore. It was too much for you, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself otherwise. You couldn't look at poor Luna being held captive. You couldn't listen to me screaming. But most importantly, you couldn't let putting yourself or your parents in danger. Because that's what mattered the most to you – your family. And you've done the best you could to protect it. Sure, it took some questionable decisions. It took a lot of sacrifice, fear and pretending. But you managed to survive it. You've survived the war, just as I have. We may have been on different sides, Draco, but let's not forget that war leaves scars deeper than those on your body. And I think that's the reason why we're both different people now. Why we're all different people. And why your dad is proud of you."
He stared at her, completely lost for words. He could feel his eyes twinging, but he wouldn't give in. He wasn't weak… Was he? She squeezed back his palm, and only then did he realise that they were still holding hands. He looked down on them, surprised. He wanted to say something but simply didn't know what. His heart was hammering in his chest, and it seemed weird since he wasn't even looking in her eyes.
"Draco?"
"Have I ever told you that you're the strongest person I know? You've been through so much, and you still have the strength to uplift others," he said so quietly that he barely moved his lips.
He was staring at the wardrobe in front of them, and for some reason – she still could not explain it – she took his chin to make him look at her. She studied his face closely for a second.
Only then did she realise how close they were. But unexpectedly, it didn't bother her. From this distance, she could see through Draco's usually impenetrable eyes. This time, they didn't hide his true feelings. She wasn't sure whether it was because he let himself or because she was close enough to see all that emotions in his eyes.
But then, someone knocked.
They immediately jumped back from each other, terrified as realisation dawned on them. Now both were standing, looking at each other, completely taken aback, as if forced out of a weird dream.
It was Hermione who acted first. She gave him a handkerchief, pushed it to his face and pushed him so he'd sit on the bed. She quickly composed herself and opened the door.
It was Harry.
"Hermione, for Merlin's sake, don't you ever leave me in a situation like that – can you imagine how awkward that was, you-"
Harry's gaze rested on Draco.
"Is he crying?!" he asked, and an amused smile crept upon his face.
Harry seemed to be way excited about this, so Draco cursed Hermione in his thoughts. What did she do that for?
"No, I'm not," he spluttered, stuffing the handkerchief angrily into his pocket.
"Oh Merlin, I can't believe that! This has just made my day. Hermione! Malfoy's crying! Do you understand what it means?!"
Hermione looked at Harry, slightly terrified but smiled nonetheless.
"Yeah, yeah, it's a big day for all of us," said Draco grumpily. "Why don't we go back and talk strategy."
"I'm not going to forget you that, Malfoy," declared Harry happily.
"Please, do," hissed Draco, glaring at Hermione, who smiled innocently.
"Why?" he whispered to her as Harry walked in front of them.
"We needed the excuse for being out so long. Why, are you ashamed to admit you have feelings?"