XXIII
—
Hermione stared at her reflection, butterflies in her stomach as she contemplated her appearance for what had to be the eighth time. Her dress was a dark plum that set off the emeralds in her engagement ring beautifully, her hair had been pulled into what was becoming her signature half-up style, and she'd applied a few glamours to make her look a bit more commanding. Still, she bit her lip in uncertainty.
After returning from Italy, she'd been informed that she would be attending a meeting in three weeks, one meant to introduce her as the Dark Lord's liaison to the Muggle government. Though she'd been studying up on diplomacy since she'd been given the position, she was nonetheless woefully underprepared and, quite frankly, not at all qualified. But she hadn't exactly been given a choice; now all she could do was try to keep her head above water and appease the Dark Lord as best she could.
Taking a deep, slow breath, Hermione unstoppered her bottle of Absinthian and tipped a few drops under her tongue. Draco had told her the name of the man they ordinarily met with, who would be present at the small convention. She had nearly gone into hysterics at the thought of meeting the Director General of MI5. She felt completely out of her depth and only hoped she wouldn't embarrass herself too severely.
There was a gentle knock on her door, so she turned, opening the entry to see her intended rubbing his wrist. Hermione cursed and extended her hand.
"Let me key you into my wards," she offered. "I'm sorry I didn't think of it sooner."
He looked hesitant. "You don't have to, it's not an unbearable shock."
"Give me your palm, Draco. I trust you won't just waltz in unannounced," the girl said with a chuckle. After another brief second of deliberation, he let her trace her wand over his hand, whispering an incantation. Then she concealed the length of Vine in one of her dress pockets and entwined their fingers.
Draco felt like a damn schoolchild with the way his pulse sped and nerves tingled every time she touched him, which was now a regular occurence. Their trip to Italy had most certainly changed things, and while nothing had been declared outright, their relationship had shifted into something a bit more genuine. When they weren't busy, they spent much of their time with each other, and they often found themselves curled together in the library or on a settee outside. To him, it was somehow both blissful and excruciating.
Glancing at his intended, Draco noticed the tension in her eyes and the hard set to her jaw.
"You're not still nervous, are you?" He questioned softly as they made their way to one of the Floos. Hermione breathed a mirthless laugh.
"I don't think you quite understand the position or power of the man you've been meeting with."
Draco scoffed. "He's a Muggle. Whatever power he wields is nothing compared to the Dark Lord's."
"And yet, the Dark Lord considers relations with him important enough to warrant the appointment of an ambassador."
The boy was silent as he thought over her words. He, like the rest of the Death Eaters, had been startled when Voldemort announced he was contemplating… perhaps not working alongside the Muggle government, but also not agitating them. The statement had come just a few days after the Halloween Revelry that had exterminated Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. No one had seen it coming.
Shaking his head, Draco said, "He's still only a Muggle. You have more strength in your little finger than he would have if there were ten of him."
The witch decided not to comment further. She had grown up in the Muggle world; technology advanced every day it seemed, and there was really no telling what sort of weapons or gadgetry the intelligence agencies had access to. It may have been just enough to scare Voldemort into behaving a bit less like an unhinged monster, especially if, like she'd been told, there were magical persons working within the Muggle government as well.
When they reached the Floo in the entry hall, they were several minutes early, so the young wizard suggested she try the Sigil's she'd created. In their recent time spent together, they'd started to teach one another. He'd begun helping her with Imbuing and French, while she explained the nuances of Celestial Magic, a study she'd picked up when Divination had proved disappointing.
Closing her eyes, Hermione traced her Sigil of peace over her heart, feeling only a barely-there thread of magic that didn't have any effect. After a few tracings, she huffed in frustration and opened her eyes. Draco stepped forward and began marking his own symbol on her skin, speaking quietly.
"It just takes time. The more you practice, the stronger it will get."
She let the now-familiar magic flow through her veins, coupling with the Absinthian to put her at complete ease. The girl wrapped her arms around her fiancé, enjoying the woodsy scent that was his own and the pulse of affection that swept through her when he kissed her forehead.
Hermione released him and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, tossing it into the fireplace and confidently speaking "Ministry of Magic" as she stepped into the flames.
—
They were still a few minutes ahead of schedule when they arrived at the Ministry, which was perfectly acceptable to Hermione. She looped her arm through Draco's when he exited the fireplace, letting him lead her through the expansive building at a leisurely pace. She hadn't been there since the incident with the prophecy in Fifth Year, which was an event she tried not to dwell on.
They made their way up to Level One, where they were greeted by a pair of solemn-looking wizards, one of them demanding their wands while the other cast some sort of enchantment over the couple and began asking questions.
When they'd been interrogated fully, Hermione was handed a quill and ordered to sign what she recognized as an Impediment Parchment, a written contract that would temporarily deaden her magic should she attempt anything she was swearing against. As she signed her name, she felt a sort of siphoning in her bloodstream, as if the quill were stealing a bit of her magic and tying it to her signature. Then the pair had their wands returned and were allowed forward.
Draco guided her to an exceptionally ornate door, placing his palm against the mahogany for a moment and then stepping back as the entryway swung inwards. Hermione straightened up just the tiniest bit further, then strode purposefully into the room.
The Dark Lord had chosen one of the lovelier conference rooms for this meeting. While not exactly large in circumference, the ceilings were tall and imposing, a glittering chandelier suspended above the ebony table in the center of the room. The high windows on the far wall were spelled to display a view of London from several stories in the air, and since no one else was currently present, the girl drifted over to them.
She didn't think she would ever truly get over the wonder that was magic. As she looked down at the streets below, it was impossible to tell that the scene wasn't real. Cars zoomed by, people as tiny as ants slowly traversed the sidewalks, traffic lights blinked. She would've sworn that she would have fallen to her death had the glass broken.
After admiring the scene for a few seconds, Hermione turned and took her place at Draco's right just as the door swung open again, Corban Yaxley and Augustus Rookwood bickering amongst themselves as they entered. They quieted when they noticed the pair seated at the table, Rookwood giving them a curt nod while Yaxley barely contained a sneer at the sight of the witch.
Draco glared at the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, taking his intended's hand and kissing it openly. It was a not-quite subtle reminder that she was under his protection, and anything untoward directected at her would be met with retaliation. Corban's lip curled but he wisely remained silent.
It was only moments later that the Dark Lord appeared in the room, arriving precisely as the Director General of MI5 was led in by a small entourage of witches and wizards.
Everyone at the table stood, first bowing to their leader, then giving the Muggle and his team a nod. Hermione felt the myriad of eyes on her, but remained unconcerned, thanks to the calming draught and sigils. The Muggle man looked her up and down, then shifted his gaze to the Dark Lord.
"Lord Voldemort, I'm pleased we meet again on good terms. I'm also pleased that you did indeed select Miss Granger to be your nation's ambassador, and that you decided to allow her to begin working with us immediately." The man turned to Hermione again. "Miss Granger, it is so lovely to make your acquaintance. I'm certain you will promote the furthering of peace and prosperity between our two realms."
The girl ducked her head as he motioned forward a woman in a sharp suit.
"This is Azayiz Siddiqui. Going forward, it will be the two of you who meet on behalf of our countries."
Hermione held the other witch's cold gaze, raising her Occlumency shields as a precaution. She'd gotten far more proficient at the art over the past few weeks, and was sure she would be able to detect if someone was trying to access her thoughts, but the way the woman was staring at her made her paranoid.
The occupants of the room all sat down, and binders full of documents appeared in front of both Voldemort and the Director General. Hermione, having an innate interest in politics, gave the two men her full attention as they commenced discussions.
—
Draco had discreetly peered at his intended throughout the conference, unsurprised to see her focus entirely captured by the discourse in front of her. Her position was a unique one, as she likely wouldn't be called upon except in tumultuous times, but he had no doubt she would excell far beyond expectations.
The meeting thus far had gone on for a couple of hours, and was at last beginning to come to an end. After a few more minutes of confirmations and signatures from both of the leaders in the room, the binders they had been poring over were closed. Voldemort gave a nod and stood, a signal to the rest of the room to do the same.
"I do hope the relationship of our countries remains cordial," the dark wizard proclaimed. "Farewell, Director General."
"Farewell, Lord Voldemort," the Muggle man responded, watching as the Dark Lord vanished into smoke.
The stiffness in the room abated some, and the company that had come with the Director General began quietly muttering, their leader straightening his tie and placing his documents in his briefcase. His eyes then landed on Hermione.
"Miss Granger, I would greatly like to speak with you, if you have a moment?"
Draco looked to his intended, who's gaze had flicked to Yaxley and Rookwood. The two wizards were conversing behind a silencing shield, and appeared to have no plans to leave just yet.
Hermione gave a tiny sigh of annoyance and looped her arm through her fiancé's. She would've preferred to speak with the Director General alone, but propriety dictated otherwise, especially around two people who would leap at the chance to discredit her.
Tossing up a silencing ward of her own, the witch smiled softly at the Director General, the man glancing fleetingly at the young Malfoy but saying nothing. He kissed the hand she raised to him.
"I wanted to officially welcome you to the world of politics, Miss Granger. We ran a background check on you beforehand, of course, as well as on your mother and father, and it seems they were quite passionate about government."
The tense he used was not lost on the girl, and she swallowed, meeting his calculating stare. "Yes, they were."
Seeing that she'd caught on, the Director General dropped the guise of pleasantries, his voice hardening. "Our background check also noted that they've disappeared, apparently without a trace. Am I wrong in assuming there was magic involved?"
Draco stiffened at her side, but Hermione simply nodded, attempting to keep her expression impassive.
"They didn't belong in my world, but they weren't about to leave me. I helped them move on with their lives."
The Muggle raised a questioning brow. "How so?"
The young witch did her damnedest to speak normally past the tightening in her throat. "As I'm sure you're aware, magic can do many things, Director General. I removed myself from their memories and changed their names, hinting that they should get out of England for a bit. I'm certain that wherever they've settled, they're living well."
A short period of quiet followed, as the politician studied the young woman before him. "You don't know where they've gone?"
"No, sir."
More quiet, in which the Director General's gaze again flickered to Draco. Then the man seemed to accept her answer.
"Well, Miss Granger. If you can set yourself aside in such an honourable way, I have no doubt you will do great service to your cause." He ducked his head. "May we meet again one day."
With that, the Director General started towards the door, two of his company moving to walk in front of him and the other two flanking.
A type of exhaustion pulled at Hermione as her intended gently led her from the room. When they were securely ensconced in the lift, the boy turned to her with a questioning look.
"Your mother and father… Is what you told him true?" Draco asked softly. She nodded.
"They knew something was wrong in our world, and I think they suspected what it was. My father even started talking about purchasing a firearm, and that was when I knew I had to send them away. They wouldn't be safe if they stayed, and like I said, there was no way they would've left me here if I suggested they leave. I did what I had to do to protect them."
The wizard beside her was silent as he contemplated if he would've had the stomach to do the same, had he been in her position.
"What names did you give them?" He questioned.
"Wendell and Monica Wilkins," she breathed as the lift came to a halt. She unlaced their hands as they made their way towards the Floo Hall. "They probably wake up somewhere gloriously sunny and warm every day, and they spend their afternoons on the beach, then go back to their lovely house and have fresh shrimp and scallops for dinner."
The girl mindlessly tossed a handful of Floo Powder into a fireplace, calling out "Malfoy Manor" and disappearing into the flames.
She stepped out into the entry hall and began to amble towards her room, but a hand caught her wrist.
Draco delicately turned her to face him, hating to see the anguish in her eyes. Before he could speak, she shook her head and pulled her hand from his grasp, a few tears falling to her cheeks.
"I haven't thought about my mum and dad in so long. All I want right now is my cat, a mug of hot cocoa, and my bed. I will see you in the morning, Draco."
She Disapparated with a crack, and the young wizard sighed as he stared at the place where she had been. He hurried up to his office and made a Floo Call to the master study of the Zabini Estate.
He was relieved to see Blaise sitting at his desk. "Can you come through, mate? I have something to ask you about."
Zabini looked up from a piece of parchment he'd been studying and smirked. "Of course you do, stars forbid you make a social call anymore. I'll be right over."
A few minutes later, Blaise was pouring himself a glass of expensive whiskey from the cart in Draco's study.
"Alright Malfoy, what sort of illicit business might we be discussing today?"
The Malfoy heir took a sip from his own tumbler, drumming his fingers against the cup as he determined how best to approach the subject. He worked his jaw and decided to be forthright.
"Could you find a pair of Muggles?"
Zabini raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "Would these Muggles be of any relation to your intended?"
"Could you find them, Zabini?" Draco repeated with a growl, and the other man gave a long exhale.
"More than likely, yes. It may take a bit of time, given our other projects would come first, but it shouldn't be difficult. Do you have names, at least?"
Malfoy nodded and took another sip of whiskey, letting the drink burn down his throat and leave a pleasant heat in his veins.
"Wendell and Monica Wilkins."
—
Serious question: If this story gets bumped to "M" for a later chapter, how many of you will quit reading it? I like to think that the sensuality I write is more or less elegant, but it remains sex all the same and will probably require I jump the rating. Just curious on your thoughts. Much love to you all!