"Ron, there's something I need to tell you. I've been trying –"
Just then the waiter came over to bring their main courses over and in the confusion of plates and drinks being poured, she lost her nerve. Shacklebolt was right, the restaurant was lovely, and it had been easy to let Ron talk, as he had done most of the way there, pretending she couldn't see him cast her concerned glances every now and again. Her thoughts flip flopped between telling him here in a public place, where he might maintain some civility; and waiting until they got home so the smartly dressed wizards on the next table wouldn't hear them arguing or see her tears if Ron walked out.
She shovelled the food into her mouth mechanically, barely tasting the pumpkin ravioli, as Ron started up the tale again between bites of his own meal.
" – so we found her parents. They live in St Albans. They had no idea she was even missing. We didn't tell them, obviously. Didn't want to worry them. But we'll have to tell them something soon. They had a letter from her that she was going on an extended honeymoon and wouldn't be able to write much for the next couple of months. No recent traces of magic near their house though, so I think they're safe. For now, anyway. Harry's stationed a junior auror to stay in a guest house down the road from them to keep an eye on the situation. Not told him why, he thinks he's counting magical footfall in the -"
The waiter came over and spoke into her ear in a low voice, "Excuse me madam but we have an owl that has arrived for you. Well, to be more specific, two owls.
She placed her napkin on the table and apologised to Ron as she pushed her chair back and followed the waiter to the lobby of the restaurant. It was perhaps a sign of the kind of visitors they often received that there was an ornate golden perch set up for Owls in the lobby.
Echoing her thoughts, the waiter explained, "Often we get important Ministry Documents delivered here for our patrons," he explained, before averting his eyes in a show of discretion as she hastily unwrapped the small note attached to the first owl.
Instantly she recognised Headmistress McGonagall's handwriting, as distinctive here as it was on her acceptance letter to Hogwarts. "Hermione, it wasn't until after you left that it came back to me in a flash. It was the morgue that Hazeldene went to work in – I knew it was somewhere quiet. I thought I'd better let you know on the off chance it is useful. Fondest regards MM"
Hermione folded up the note and put it into her pocket, filing the tidbit of information away for later, although, like McGonagall she failed to see how it was relevant. if nothing else, the fact that it wasn't in his personnel file was curious.
However, all thoughts of Hazeldene were wiped from her mind when she opened the second missive.
Granger, I've got news. Contact me as soon as possible."
Unsigned as it was, she was in no doubt of the identity of the sender. With an effort, she shook her head as though she was trying to clear water out of her ears. She couldn't be at Malfoy's beck and call all the time and he was an arse to think she would. Talking to Ron was her main priority right now, so she ignored the cowardly itch to go back to the table, tell Ron something had come up, and leave before she shattered his happiness.
She glanced up quickly over the other heads of the diners at him, her face stricken but he was studying the menu, oblivious to her turmoil. Looking back to the parchments in her hand she whispered "Incendio", and then vanished the flaming remains before they had a chance to burn her fingertips.
Feeling lightheaded, she walked back to the table. Ron looked up at her but the smile she expected to see on his face had been replaced by a grim scowl. Her insides shrivelled – surely he couldn't be angry at her receiving an owl?
As she pulled her chair out, her eyes snagged on the newspaper in the hands of the elderly wizard at the table behind theirs. Judging by the furtive look his dining companion gave her, she had clearly been the topic of their conversation. The headline shouted out to her "Witches Held Hostage in Unhappy Marriages – Top Ministry Official Speaks Out". The sub-heading underneath was hardly less damning "War Hero, Hermione Granger speaks of her secret heartbreak", They had used an old picture that someone must have snapped of them at the War Survivor's benefit – Hermione jabbing Ron in the chest with an accusing fingertip while his lips curled up into an ugly snarl. She could just make out the text under the photo "Will she be the next to disappear?" A tiny spark of satisfaction that Skeeter had managed to give the story so much prominence kindled inside her, that hopefully this would dispel some of the complacency the wizarding world seemed to be living in, as usual.
"I can explain." She said automatically, without knowing what she was going to say.
Ron folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, prepared to listen although obviously skeptical.
"I didn't plan it, if that's what you're thinking. It wasn't some scheme to make you look bad. I saw her in Hogsmeade and it felt right. The paper's hardly paying any attention to the missing girls, and even less to the marriage law. I thought that if I just gave her a nudge in the right direction she might join the dots and the story would start to gain some traction. Don't look at me like that, I didn't ask her to make you look…bad. I just felt so helpless. You and Harry running around. Me just cooling my heels waiting for you to solve the problem."
"Well now you're part of the problem!" he hissed, "What the hell were you thinking, talking to her of all people?"
"Part of the problem -" Hermione scoffed, "Don't be ridiculous!"
"They've – you've – made me look like a monster!"
Hermione felt the flush rise hotly up her neck. "It shouldn't just be us three! If there's people going missing because of the marriage law, then the public need to know about it. Someone might know something! It's not horcruxes this time, it's people's lives. It's my life!"
"It's not just us three, Harry's got – "
"I know full well that Harry is keeping this all from his team! It wasn't so long ago you were trying to stop me going to check on Amy at her house – you were going to "make an official visit", you said. Now look at you! Harry's got Malfoy in to consult. You and him are sneaking around like Holmes and Watson, you're not following Ministry protocol –"
She afforded herself a moment of spiteful pleasure at seeing him rack his brains to remember who the detective pair were and remembering he had once thought Sherlock Holmes was a Gringotts employee when she'd mentioned him before.
Her smugness was shortlived, as he vollied his own barbed retort across the table, his face a picture of truculence, "Oh right, so this is because you're feeling left out is it?"
"No, but while you mention it –"
Whatever Hermione was about to say was cut off by the flurry of wings between them. An owl had landed directly onto the table, displacing silverware and knocking over a (thankfully empty) goblet. From the surprised looks of the nearby wizards, Hermione surmised that this wasn't normal behaviour but as their gossiping was what had caused the argument between her and Ron, she was hardly inclined to care too much for their comfort. The harassed looking waiter hurried over, grimacing apologetically and shooed the bird away, who seemed quite happy to go, once the note around his leg had been removed.
Hermione unrolled the parchment without even looking at Ron, too grateful for the pause in their hostilities to feel trepidation at the note's contents, although that soon changed once the words within penetrated her consciousness.
"Granger, I need to see you immediately. Immediately! I am on my way to your house. Meet me there."
She felt the collision of her two worlds physically, in the pounding of her heart, the adrenaline that was prickling at her skin, the tightening of her throat.
She pressed her lips together to stem the flow of curse words she wanted to shout at Malfoy. The presumption of turning up at her house – what in Merlin's name was he thinking of? And sending her two messages? Had he actually taken a spare owl with him just for the purpose. Honestly the man was insufferable. Had he even considered what difficulty it could cause her with Ron, doing this to her?
She felt lightheaded, the background noise of the restaurant dimming to a static buzz and the edges of her vision started to blur. Her mouth started to water and her stomach turned over, whether from morning sickness or stress she couldn't tell. She actually had to wipe her clammy hand on her thigh before she could get a good enough grip on her wand to incendio the note.
Perhaps it was the mention of Malfoy earlier but a series of visions swum through her consciousness like the panels of a muggle comic – Draco following those two mysterious wizards. A confrontation. The flash of a wand. Draco's hand clutched to his stomach and coming away with a fistful of blood. Draco slumped in her doorway, bleeding out.
She felt her magic prickle over her skin in protest to the notion of leaving Ron mid-argument and she wondered if she tried to get up from her chair would she find herself unable. However, any tests to that end were saved by Ron, who coughed pointedly, his face ashen and his mouth screwed up like he'd just swallowed a vomit flavoured Every Flavour bean.
"Something urgent?" he asked, "Something to do with your top secret mission?" he drew the words out with almost mocking cruelty
She nodded queasily.
"Well, you'd best run along then, I suppose," he mimed the movement with his fingers, "besides, we'd better not been seen having any arguments in public. People might talk." He slapped his forehead, in a show of forgetfulness, "Oh, silly me. They'll already be talking, because you went to the Prophet and told them I'm basically keeping you a prisoner!"
"Ron – please," she begged, the words spilling out of her as she tried to work out how quickly she could deal with Malfoy, how much damage would be done to her marriage before she could find out if what he wanted was life threatening. "You were right, I shouldn't have done it. Look, I could-"
"Forget it." He dismissed her panicked garbling, "Damage 's been done now. Don't reckon we've got anything else to talk about." His expression as he called the waiter over made it clear that he wouldn't be uttering a single other word to her.
Desperation to resolve the issue, and relief that she could leave warred inside her but she forced herself to stay in her chair until after Ron had thrown some Galleons onto the table and stalked off. She would not be the one to walk away from this argument, even if Draco was gravely hurt, he couldn't crowbar his way between them any more. It wasn't until the restaurant door slammed shut behind him that she realised that they did in fact have something very important still to talk about. With a sigh, she pushed in her chair and, glaring at the two wizards who had had far more entertainment than they deserved for one dinner time, hurried to the problem that she might be able to solve.
oOoOoOo
Draco was waiting for her in the doorway of her house when she stomped, disgruntled, up the road towards him. She had slowed from the ungainly half run she had affected as soon as she spotted him standing upright, completely unhurt, and had recalibrated in her mind the possibilities of what might be so urgent.
Grabbing him by the elbow as she wrestled the key into the lock, trying to open the door as she simultaneously glared up and down the road to see if anyone was watching them.
Once inside she turned her gimlet stare upon him, not even bothering to turn on a light before she hissed, "What are you doing here? I was out for a meal with Ron! You've got to stop summoning me to places, I'm not your house elf! Not that you should be doing it to house elves but even so –"
She was cut off by his finger being placed unceremoniously on her lips but before she had a chance to snatch it away, he strode imperiously into the living room. With a huff of frustration, she followed in his wake.
However, once he turned to face her again, she stopped in her tracks, mouth agape, scarcely able to believe what she was seeing. The room was softly illuminated by the golden glow emanating from the flask he held aloft, the triumphant expression on his face alight in its radiance.
"It's done?" she asked, staring wide eyed at the darkly shimmering liquid, entranced by the way that it emitted light whilst being almost black in colour.
"It's done," he confirmed.
With an uncharacteristic squeal of delight, she flung her arms around him, all her previous annoyance forgotten. He lifted her from the ground and span her around until they were both dizzy, cheering and laughing.
"You know what this means?" Hermione cradled the bottle in her hands, marvelling at the contents.
"That I never have to look at a dragon's egg again?" Draco asked hopefully.
"No, that we brewed a potion that Professor Snape couldn't manage. What do you think he'd say if he knew?"
Draco squeezed her round the shoulder, like Hermione, unable to keep his eyes from the potion, "A passable attempt Mr Malfoy. I've seen more hopeless efforts," he drawled in a decent impression of their former Potions Master.
"Miss Granger, ten points from Gryffindor for you being such an insufferable know it all," Hermione's attempt was less successful, making Draco snort with laughter.
"That was terrible!" he wheezed through his giggles.
"When are you going to give it to your father?" Hermione asked, when he had regained his composure.
Draco took the potion from her and held it up to the light, examining it. He seemed almost reluctant to answer, "He's very weak. And this potion is…tricky. We're not completely sure of the strength,"
"The texts are unclear but Snape's documentation gives us a bit more information,"
"He didn't ever make it himself though. And my father is very weak," Draco wore a shifty expression.
Hermione hands went to her hips, "So you want to find someone to try it out on first?" uncertainty started to trickle coldly down her spine. She hadn't minded the abstract idea of making such a dangerous brew. She certainly didn't have any qualms about giving it to Lucius Malfoy and letting him take his chances. However, trusting her and Draco's abilities to make a potion that hadn't been correctly brewed in three centuries - not to mention guessing the correct dosage – enough to give it to some innocent curse-scarred victim, seemed a bit too dangerous for her liking.
"Why don't you try it? Then at least it would get rid of…" he held her hand palm upwards and trailed his fingers down the word carved into her skin by his aunt. Hermione shivered involuntarily.
"I said I'd help you brew it, I never said anything about being your guinea pig," Hermione's free hand strayed to her stomach.
"I'll do it," Ron stepped out of the shadows, his expression dark.
"What are you doing here?" Hermione gasped, immediately irritated with herself at the stupidity of her question. Obviously. he had followed her.
"In my own house? Very nice. I saw your face when you read that note. You looked guilty, just so guilty. After you burnt it and it was obvious you couldn't get out of the restaurant quick enough, even though you thought you were doing your best to hide it, it suddenly hit me, you were meeting lover boy. It's where you've been disappearing off to, isn't it. The great mission you've been so excited about!" Hermione just hung her head in shame, unable to truthfully deny it.
"Didn't think you'd be so easy to follow though. Could you not even stretch to a hotel Malfoy?" his lip turned into a sneer at the name. Hermione could see his hands shaking, even from across the room.
"It's not like that Ron, honestly. I wouldn't – we've been brewing a potion together. It really is important – it could save lives. It heals curse damage. Just think of the - Draco – Malfoy – tell him,"
Draco looked almost bored, as though husbands discovered him in their houses, with their wives, every day of the week, "he wouldn't believe me even if I told him." He examined the tip of his wand, then polished an invisible spot off of it with the sleeve of his robes.
"So what is so important about this potion that you two have to keep meeting up to make it? Hermione, I believe you'd do something to help people but not him. What's in it for him?" Ron eyed her challengingly, daring her to lie to him.
"It's –" Hermione looked at Draco. It was his secret to tell about his father, and Hermione didn't want to break his confidence. He nodded at her almost imperceptibly, "It's for Lucius – well, not just for Lucius, it was at first but -"
"What are you doing something for him for?" Ron interrupted, unmoved.
"He's not well. Curse damage," Draco informed him curtly, "I thought this potion might help him but it's hellishly difficult to make. Granger's been helping me, even though she disapproves,"
"Is it dark magic?" Ron looked at Hermione, aghast. She shook her head.
"Not dark, just dangerous. If we've got any of the ingredients even slightly wrong, or stirred it just a fraction too long, or it's got too hot, or…." Hermione's voice started to get shrill.
"Yes Granger, you have listed the number of ways it can turn into poison too many times for me to hear it again. In fact, if I ever hear the words, 'it must be exactly twelve turns Draco, exactly,' again in my life, I'll cheerfully feed myself to the giant squid," Hermione huffed at Draco's impression of her.
"It must be exactly twelve turns," muttered Ron childishly, causing Draco to roll his eyes, "So you don't want to test it on daddy dearest, but you're willing to let Hermione try it. Classy move Malfoy. Nice to know she means so much to you,"
"Eff off Weasel,"
"But then who would test this potion for you? Go on, give it here. You're not going to badger Hermione into trying it. It's your family's fault she's got that curse scar. I'm not going to let you do any more damage to her. Hand it over,"
Hermione grabbed him by the arm to stop him taking the flask, "Ron don't be so –"
"Stupid?" he supplied, angrily.
"No, that wasn't what I was going to say, although I must admit that testing an unknown potion is highly idiotic,"
Hermione folded her arms over her chest as Ron tried again, "Jealous? At finding my wife here with her….what are you then Malfoy?"
Malfoy just raised his eyebrow and smiled a cruel half smile, "She's not your real wife though is she Weaselly? You're just keeping her warm for me until the law gets overturned,"
Hermione thought Ron was going to go for Malfoy but he didn't move, other than the rhythmic flexing and clenching of his fists. His eyes flashed to her for a moment, as if challenging her to agree with Malfoy
"Oh I keep her warm alright, every night of the week," he growled.
Malfoy's smirk just increased, "Nothing to do with it being the law at all, it must be down to your sheer magnetism. What a boost to your ego it must be to know that you are a more palatable choice than going to Azkaban"
"Stop it!" Hermione threw herself between them like a protego as the two men stepped toe to toe, "Just…stop fighting. I'm not a toy for the two of you to squabble over!"
Ron stopped straining against the palm she had placed on his chest "Did you know Hermione talks in her sleep Malfoy?"
Hermione gaped – she thought that she had stopped that habit years ago.
"Oh right, so this is where you tell me she moans over how much she fancies you rotten?"
"No," Ron smiled bitterly, "It's your name she calls, over and over. 'Malfoy….Draco…please…"
Hermione felt an electric shock of panic shoot through her body. She didn't even remember having dreams like that. The only thing she ever remembered dreaming about with any certainty was the same nightmare that replayed itself inexorably through her mind. Oh. Horror blossomed within her, realising what he must mean, "Ron, don't," she muttered.
"No, go on Ron," Draco's jaw jutted out arrogantly.
"Yeah, she calls for you alright. Draco…please….stop her. She's your aunt. Stop her. Malfoy, she's killing me…please Draco,"
Hermione's head hung in defeat. The secret that she had kept from Draco for so long. That no matter how sweet he was to her during the daylight hours, once night fell, to her he became that scared, selfish, cowardly boy who had watched her with cold, dispassionate eyes as she had slipped in and out of consciousness. He hadn't smiled, hadn't enjoyed the scene - like Lucius had done – and that alone had allowed her to forgive him, when she was awake at least.
"Granger - Hermione, I didn't – I couldn't – there was nothing I could do. She was mad! She'd have done it to me too!"
"How dare you tell him that," Hermione hissed at Ron, ignoring Draco.
"Ha, I might have known this would have ended up being my fault somehow. Not your precious Malfoy's,"
"Ron, we've just been trying to brew this potion. That's all it's been. For months now. Since we were married. Since before then, I swear to you," Hermione was tearful now, pushing her hands though her hair.
"Don't worry, you don't have to explain to me. It's just the law isn't it, keeping us married. Once that's over with, you can go back to him," Ron eyed her sullenly. He looked like a scared little boy, too proud to beg her to disagree with him.
Hermione couldn't meet his eye. She couldn't tell him now about the baby. Tell him that their fates were tied now for ever more.
"Or until something happens to me," Ron finished, darkly.
"What do you mean?" Hermione's voice trembled.
"I told you, I actually read the Marriage Law. You know what I mean – you practically know the whole thing off by heart. It says that if either of us die, the other one is off the hook. No being matched to anyone else. That's it. So the way I see it – let me try the potion. If it works then hooray, you two get fame and fortune, you can probably set up shop selling it. Or you can just be happy that there isn't something Hermione Granger has failed at and just leave it there. Or it doesn't work, I die, then consolation prize, you get to be with Malfoy, which is what you really want, isn't it,"
"No!" Hermione shrieked, "how many times do I have to tell you!"
"Well be on your own then, get more cats, do whatever you want but then at least this will be over with, because I can't take it any more,"
"You just can't take the potion," she whispered brokenly.
"She's right Weasel," Draco drawled coldly, "Dragora only works on curse damage. You probably don't encounter much of that as a celebrity burglar alarm fitter, or whatever it is you call it. You may as well just toddle off to bed, leave us to it,"
"Forgotten I was an Auror too? As well as saving the wizarding world when you were hiding at home with mummy and daddy? Surprised one of your death eater mates didn't brag to you about doing this," Ron unbuttoned his shirt and turned his back, revealing the long, jagged scar down his shoulderblade, "Now give me the damn potion,"
"I said no, Ron! It's too dangerous,"
"Can't be that dangerous, Ferret Features here was just going to try and persuade you to take it," and with that, he snatched the flask out of Draco's hand and took a healthy swig. Draco and Hermione glanced at each other in horror. She could tell that he had never imagined Ron would have really taken the potion.
"S'fine," Ron mumbled, handing the flask back to Draco, who quickly stoppered it. Before he had as much as a chance to put it in his pocket, Ron started swaying on the spot, the colour draining from his face. His collapse was almost graceful . He fell slowly – like a building being demolished - into a limp heap on the ground. Or maybe it wasn't in slow motion and it was just fear, just sheer terror that made Hermione feel as though her limbs were moving through treacle and the second in between his eyes meeting hers, anguished shock registering in them, and them flickering shut seem like an age.
Hermione ran to his side, shaking fingers feeling for a pulse as his breathing stuttered and crackled. It was there – sluggish and uneven but there.
"Look what you've done!" she screamed at Draco, partly because she didn't know what else to do.
"I didn't know the idiot was actually going to do it," he shrugged, before heaving on Ron's shoulder, his eyes blazing, "Look, it's working!"
"I don't give a flying fuck!" Hermione screamed, imploding in front of Draco's eyes. Her mouth moved silently, casting every healing spell she knew, but nothing roused Ron from the stupor he had slipped into.
"Would this help?" he asked dryly, holding out a small, shrivelled looking stone on the palm of his hand. A cool trickle of relief eased the frantic, burning panic that was consuming Hermione as she snatched the bezoar from him, forced Ron's clamped jaws open and slipped it into his throat.
"You had that the whole time?" she hissed, seeming more feral than human as she crouched protectively over her husband's prone form, her hand clawlike on his chest.
Draco shrugged, "It'd be pretty irresponsible to test an unknown potion without some kind of precaution."
"You – you bastard!" Hermione's arm drew back and she had slapped him sharply across the cheek. So he had just assumed she would take the potion – why else would he have brought the bezoar with him? And he had withheld it until he had seen the effect the Dragora had on Ron.
Staring at her impassively, Draco made no acknowledgement of the reddening handprint forming on his cheek, "You can thank me when you've calmed down," he smirked, "Now turn him on to his side,"
"Of course, the recovery position," she agreed, straining to shift Ron's dead weight.
"No I just want to look at the healing pattern of the scar," he knelt down beside her, examining Ron's back intently. Hermione cast an irritated glance to the previously livid mark and saw that it had all but disappeared.
Ron coughed and spluttered, his eyelids flickering. Hermione sagged against his side as overwhelming relief washed over her, making her feel giddy and sick.
"The bezoar seems to have counteracted all of the effects," Draco sighed, peevishly eyeing the rapidly reappearing scar. It was only Ron's low moan as he regained consciousness that prevented her from attacking Draco again at that moment.
"Ugh, I feel like I was hit by a bludger. A bludger made of dragon dung," rasped Ron, clasping his forehead with his hand, "And my mouth tastes of bezoar. Have you got any idea how gross a stone from the stomach of a goat tastes. Honestly, it's like –" he was cut off by Hermione grabbing wildly at him and almost squeezing the life back out of him.
"Look, er... I'm just going to…" Draco started to sidle towards the fireplace, only to leap back in shock as, in a flash of green flames, Harry burst into the room through the fireplace. At the scene in front of him – Ron shirtless and pale, Hermione tearful, Malfoy looking as though he would run through Fiendfyre to get away from the situation, he stopped in his tracks. His double take would have been comical at another moment. He seemed almost about to step back into the fire without a word before Hermione stopped him,
"What is it Harry?" she saw some blueprints clutched in his hand and felt about a hundred years old. How many more things did this day have to throw at her?
"Oh – er – I could come back later?" Even the normally unobservant Harry had noticed he was interrupting something.
"No, go on. Is it to do with Umbridge?"
"Yes," he finally seemed to settle in to telling them as Ron shrugged his shirt back on, "You were right Hermione –"
"Surprise, surprise," Ron and Draco muttered in unison, before glaring at each other.
Harry stifled a smile and continued, "I went to check out that corridor on the map and there's no entrance on the outside so I sneaked into Umbridge's office and there's a door behind her desk. It's got some kind of charm on it so you can't see it but when I managed to Revelio it,"
"What's in there?" Hermione asked with a shudder, imagining the corpses of brides who had not met their husband's expectations or hadn't fallen pregnant in a respectable time.
"I couldn't go in, Umbridge came back. I had to pretend I was thinking of divorcing Ginny and wondering if I could sign up to the scheme if I did. I'm not sure she believed me. The Ministry's closed now though, I thought you might like to go and take a look,"
"I don't know," Hermione mused, "we might have trouble. Security's a lot tighter than it used to be. Probably due to a bunch of teenage wizards who kept sneaking in," she smirked.
"And what am I? Chopped Dragon's liver?" Ron looked affronted, "I might know a little something about overriding the Ministry's Security Systems – after all I did design them. With a hidden shutdown spell that only I know about, I might add,"
Hermione cringed at the fact that she had forgotten Ron was singlehandedly responsible for moving the wizarding world towards more sophisticated methods of security. He had been acting so childishly, she had practically forgotten that they weren't at school any more. However, he didn't seem to bear a grudge – he was looking too proud about his own ingenuity.
"Why did you do that?" she asked.
Ron grinned, his eyes glinting, as he shrugged his shirt back on, "Thought it might come in handy one day. You never know when you might want to break into the Ministry, you know, for old time's sake,"
"Well then," Harry smiled, "let's go. We might have to apparate outside. Can you get us in from there, Ron?"
"Easier than falling off a broom," he linked his arm with Harry and Hermione.
They were just about to go when Hermione noticed Draco, just standing and watching them curiously, as though they were a completely alien species. In the thrill of the chase, the old excitement of the gang back together again, tracking down a mystery thrumming in her veins, she had forgotten he was even there.
"Coming?" she asked casually, holding her hand out to him.
Draco seemed to mull the proposition over for a moment before grabbing her arm and then they were off. Off to break into the Ministry, to explore a hidden passage in an old enemy's office. An old enemy who may or may not be responsible for the disappearance of several young women. Standard.