A/N: Thank you for your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! You can find me over on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.
Please let me know what you thought of chapter six and be on the lookout for chapter seven soon!
Slipping back into her undercover persona was far easier than Hermione would have expected it to be. It was nice that she still had Fenrir at her side and, this time, he was better able to guide her through situations now that he knew she wasn't actually a money launderer.
That wasn't to say that things had improved between them. Their interactions were still frosty — maybe even more frosty now that Hermione knew the only reason she was being forced to put her life in danger like this was because Fenrir had slipped up and used her name. But, at least she could tell that there was some mutual concern for the other's safety underneath all the animosity that threatened to boil over.
Her days quickly went from reviewing spreadsheets to spending afternoons holed up in Antonin's office above the boxing gym. They didn't see Ilya too frequently, but when they did, he barely had a nod for them. He had gone professional, it seemed, and remained as focused as ever. Rabastan came around more than she would have expected. To her surprise, he was pleased to see her.
But, the Lestranges that they were most likely to see were Rodolphus and Bellatrix. Hermione did not need Fenrir to tell her that they were bad news. A husband and wife team, Hermione could never be certain which of them to be more afraid of. Bellatrix was certainly the more talkative of the two, cruel and rude. She seemed to enjoy unnerving Hermione. But, while Rodolphus did not say as much, Hermione could see evil in the subtle quirk of his lips when Bellatrix said something deranged.
From the information that Fenrir had already shared, Hermione knew that the Lestranges were in the most immediate inner circle with Tom Riddle and were supposedly some of the most devoted to him. In the hierarchy, they were very clearly higher up than Fenrir, and marginally higher than Antonin.
Hermione tried to lay low where the two were concerned, but unfortunately, this particular job meant that she had to spend more time with them than she wished. The play was extremely large and important to Riddle and he was very invested in seeing it go off without a hitch.
Bellatrix was suspicious of her from the start and even tried to drag her away for a 'girl to girl' chat. Luckily, Antonin had come to her rescue, reminding Bellatrix that Tom had already vetted her himself and didn't have any qualms about using her for her skills. Bellatrix looked disappointed, but seemed to give up. For now.
Rodolphus seemed to think that she couldn't possibly have the skills to complete the work for Tom, but didn't mind. It was her funeral, as he was so quick to remind her.
At least, she could count her small blessings. There had been no talk about Tom Riddle wanting to meet with her again. While she was more confident that she could face him now, she still did not want to if she did not have to. There were just far too many things that could go wrong. Instead, she just wanted to set up this stupid art action and then let the police arrest Tom Riddle and then she would slink back off to her... boring life.
Oh yeah, they had decided to go with the art auction idea after she'd made the throw away suggestion. Despite her trying to reason with Antonin that they should talk it out more, he wouldn't listen to her or Fenrir on the topic. He'd already floated it by Tom, who thought it was perfect. Besides, they didn't have a lot of time, so it was better to just stick with what was already selected.
Apparently, Antonin had delegated the task of finding an artist to her and Fenrir. He did not have any other nieces or nephews that he would trust to be the stand in. Fenrir had seemed to hope to delegate the task to just her instead, but Hermione had argued that since he got them into this mess, he would be helping her get them out of it.
They spent a week checking out the work of some local artists in the neighborhood, trying to find someone who would work. There hadn't been much for options, but they eventually settled on a whimsical blonde woman called Luna, who made some of the most disturbing artwork that Hermione had ever seen. Giant canvases, splattered with red and black in abstract patterns.
"I use some of my own blood in the paint, you know?" Luna had said, with a serene look on her face, when she caught Hermione looking quizzically at one painting. "Maybe I could use some of yours for the project? It would be something special to include."
"No thank you," Hermione stuttered out, hoping not to offend her. She didn't think that it was a good idea to be leaving any of her DNA behind on this little scheme.
Fenrir was the one who actually worked out terms with Luna. Though she didn't seem it at first glance, Luna was actually quite shrewd and negotiated herself a pretty little deal. In exchange for transferring the money, she was going to get half a percent of the total exchange as well as a year of protection for her father's workplace. He ran some sort of satirical newspaper that was targeted a lot by teenagers in the neighborhood.
It was no secret that something about Luna unsettled Fenrir, but not enough for him not to bring her to Antonin's attention. Maybe it was the piercing looks the other woman would give him and comments about his aura being in turmoil.
Ultimately, even if Fenrir did have any concerns about Luna, things were moving too quickly for them to pivot. They didn't have much time to set up this imaginary art auction and make it look legitimate to go second guessing the artist that they had found, which meant presenting her to Antonin's scrutiny.
The nerves must have been setting in, because when Hermione, Luna and Fenrir were sitting in Antonin's office waiting for him to show up, he couldn't help himself from bickering with her, as he did more often than not. "You better hope that this works, Peach, or its going to be both of our heads on a platter," he hissed, leg bouncing with unspent energy.
"Well, if you hadn't mentioned me to Antonin in the first place, I doubt that this would be falling on our shoulders," Hermione argued back, crossing her hands over her chest.
"And, if it wasn't for you Uncle Sirius, I wouldn't have crossed paths with you anyhow," Fenrir said, looking at her with blazing eyes. "I should have walked the other fucking way when I saw him again."
Hermione couldn't help but scoff at him. While she still felt horribly guilty about how she had tricked him while she was undercover, she could not accept that Fenrir felt tricked into becoming an informant at all. After all, it was going to help him immensely in the end, if he could walk away without jail time. That was, if they didn't end up killed in the first place.
"I'm sure that my life would have been simpler if you had," she countered. "You know, he told me that you asked for me and me alone. You didn't have to do that if my presence was such a burden to you."
"Oh, you have been nothing but a burden since the day that you walked into my warehouse, Peach," he said with a cruel sort of smile. "It still haunts me to this day. I wish I would have told you to just fuck off then."
Hermione gasped, hating the way that he always needed to be mean to her. She didn't want to be there any more than him, but unfortunately, it was his request that meant that she had to stay. But, before she could retort, a throat was clearing on the other side of the room.
"Trouble in paradise?" Antonin asked, with one eyebrow arched.
She was too annoyed to even try to come up with a lie to appease the Russian man, and instead crossed her hands over her chest, sulking in her chair. Fenrir didn't seem to be up for the task either, shaking his head. "Just something between me and Peach that we need to sort through," he said eventually.
"Oh, like you will ever let us move past this," Hermione snapped, reminded that this was about the fiftieth time that he'd brought it up, always eager to rub it in that it was her fault.
Antonin looked concerned, looking between the two of them. "Whatever this is isn't going to interfere with our project is it?" he asked, ever focused on business. Though, if she was beholden to Tom Riddle, she supposed that it might be her main concern, too.
"Can't you feel their auras?" Luna asked, in her dreamy voice. "They are pulsing with pent up desire and longing."
The other man slumped into his chair, looking at Luna peculiarly. He didn't at all seem bothered by her interjection or the fact that they hadn't been introduced. "I guess you really did need more time to reconnect," he said with a shrug. "I presume this is the artist?"
"Yes, I'm Luna Lovegood," she said, giving Antonin a shy smile. "I've already started building a new collection for the auction. Though, I am having trouble finding blood for the paintings."
"Blood?" Antonin asked, with a delighted sort of smile on his face. "What do you need blood for?"
"I just think it gives the paint a certain pop," Luna explained, obviously not understanding just how off putting the idea was for many others. "I would donate more of my own, but apparently it has made me quite anemic, and I was recommended to stop."
Antonin snorted at her. "Frankly, I don't care if it's the ugliest fucking painting in the world," he said. "It's not a real art sale. They told you that, right?"
"An artist has a vision," Luna explained with a shrug. "You handle your task and I will handle mine."
Hermione was nervous for the woman, thinking that she might not realize just how dangerous of a person Antonin was. She didn't want anything bad to happen to Luna, especially seeing as she was just a random civilian that Hermione was needlessly pulling into a dangerous situation. She already felt bad enough about her role in all this, she couldn't stand it if she had the blood of an innocent on her hands too.
But, luckily, it seemed as if Antonin was simply amused with her. He let out a barking laugh. "Right you are," he said with a smirk. "Alright, well, I'm alright with her, if she can promise to have a decent showing that won't raise any red flags in time for our auction."
"Yeah, we'll make sure that it gets done," Fenrir said gruffly. "You know that we are good for it."
"And you better be," Antonin said, vaguely threatening. "Sort out whatever the fuck is going on between the two of you. I don't need to tell you that Tom will expect answers if things don't go well. Don't embarrass me by having that answer be for romantic reasons."
"I can keep emotions out of this," Hermione promised, raising her chin in defiance. And, she did think that she was being the more reasonable of the two, even though Fenrir was the one who pulled her into this mess in the first place.
"Don't just tell me," Antonin ordered, before grabbing one of the lollies out of the jar on his desk. "Show me with your actions. No more fucking fighting. Okay?"
"Okay," Fenrir said, with gritted teeth, like it was going to be an issue after all. "Let's get going Peach. I'll drive you home."
Even though she bristled at the order, Hermione stood and followed Fenrir from the room. They would need to debrief anyway.