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ayane_tsurugi) wrote2009-11-01 03:29 pm
ayane_tsurugi) wrote2009-11-01 03:29 pm
The Twelfth Stop (Draco/Hermione, PG-13)
Title: The Twelfth Stop
Author:ayane_tsurugi
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Word Count: 2960
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are the property of J.K. Rowling, who is definitely not me. I make no money from my efforts here; I’m just playing around.
Warnings: Mild violence and language.
Summary: Hermione Granger had always seen life a bit like a Ferris Wheel. You take a ride with every person that comes into your life, each stop an experience that affects your relationship, and when you get off at the end, the two of you either walk away together and connected or split ways forever.
Author’s Notes: Written for kryptiq for the 2009 Dramione Duet on LJ.
The Twelfth Stop
XII. Hermione Granger had always seen life a bit like a Ferris Wheel. You take a ride with every person that comes into your life, each stop an experience that affects your relationship, and when you get off at the end, the two of you either walk away together and connected or split ways forever.
However, sitting in her boss’s office next to a stoic Draco Malfoy, she began to wonder if, sometimes, Fate had you go around twice, just to make sure you did things right the first time.
“As you know, Miss Granger, your latest project has caused quite a bit of worry within the Department about your safety,” Mr. Sterling began, pinching the bridge of his nose. Inwardly, Hermione sighed. A week before, she had been attacked coming out of a restaurant with Ginny Weasley, but other than a few bruises, she’d been fine. As Ginny had told a worried Ron and Harry, “you should see the other guy” was a bit of an understatement. Despite that, Sterling had been trying to convince her to give it up ever since. “Seeing as you refuse to let it go, we have decided to provide you with protection. Mr. Malfoy here is a newly licensed Auror and you will be under his watchful eye until your project has been completed.”
She started to protest, but knew there was no point. This was likely the only way the Department would allow her to continue her work.
“We’ve packed you a trunk.”
XI. She didn’t have to wonder long why her protective detail included staying in Malfoy’s guest room. Once they’d left the Ministry, it took them nearly half an hour to reach his front path.
Malfoy’s house was firmly in the middle of a very beautiful nowhere. He’d isolated himself well from the world: the nearest Apparation point was in a nearby village, where he kept a muggle car for the remainder of the journey, most of which involved a winding dirt road.
As they drove, Malfoy even told her at a fork in the road that, to anyone else traveling there, it wasn’t a fork at all. The path to his house, much like the house itself, was heavily warded. She considered asking him where his deep-seeded paranoia had come from, but she didn’t have to. “Believe it or not,” he’d told her bitterly, “being a former Death Eater doesn’t pave a smooth road in this society.”
“The only ones who know how to get here, and who are able to get here, are Greg, Pansy, Blaise, and Mother. This property is one of the best kept secrets in the Wizarding World. In other words, if you’re not safe here, Mr. Sterling was wasting his time because obviously Fate was out for your life. Understand?” Hermione nodded, and was honestly fairly impressed. She knew how much prejudice former Death Eaters had been facing since the end of the war, and despite that, Malfoy seemed to have done well for himself.
X. She woke the next morning to a tapping on the window of her guest room. It was an owl she didn’t recognize, but the writing on the envelope was distinguishable even before she’d removed it from the bird’s leg: Harry. He and Ron must have found out Malfoy’s latest assignment when they’d come in. She shook her head.
The note, just as she’d imagined, was a lengthy rant disguised as an apology that they weren’t the ones protecting her instead of Malfoy. It also described in detail what they would do to him if anything happened to her, which made her roll her eyes. Malfoy had his Auror license, which meant he was fully qualified for this job, no matter how much didn’t want it.
Walking into the hall, she caught the distinct smell of coffee coming from downstairs and headed that way graciously. She still had the letter in her hand when she entered the kitchen, and she heard Malfoy say, “So you got one too, then?”
He was sitting at the table, nursing a cup of coffee with the Daily Prophet on one side and what appeared to be the remnants of a howler on the other. She winced. “They worry, is all,” she told him, then sighed.
“You mean they think I’ll turn you over.”
“You might expect something from Molly Weasley as well, once she gets word.”
He nodded to the remnants. “This one was from Molly Weasley. The one from Potter and Weasley is on the counter.”
IX. After nearly two weeks, Hermione began to understand what it meant to be going stir-crazy. She’d spent almost the entire time working, and the sight of the inside of her guest room was beginning to annoy her for no reason other than overexposure.
It was with this in mind that she convinced herself that she needed chocolate. And by ‘chocolate,’ she didn’t mean anything that Malfoy’s house elf could bring her. She meant chocolate from the grocery shop in the village.
“No,” Malfoy said, and she’d known he would, but she didn’t care. He may have been an Auror, but his objection wasn’t about to stop her.
She kept backing toward the door. “Look, Malfoy, I know how to drive a car. I’m going whether you want me to or not, so you can either get your jacket and come along, or hush up and drink your coffee.”
He started for his wand, but she already had hers ready. “Don’t even try it.”
“You’re going to get me fired, Granger,” he growled.
“Don’t be preposterous,” she said, putting her wand back in its holster. “This is my idea, so I’m sure I can get you out of trouble if it finds you. Besides, Auror Shacklebolt likes me.”
“That makes one of us.”
VIII. When Hermione woke up, she noticed two things: her pounding headache and the fact that she was back at Malfoy’s.
“I told you it wasn’t a good idea, Granger.”
She groaned as the first groggy memories floated to the front of her mind.
The trip to the grocery shop had gone without incident, to Malfoy’s relief, and so he was less wary when she suggested that they stay in the village to get some tea. Unfortunately, within the realm of the word ‘incident,’ they had neglected to factor in Hermione’s periodic bouts of Extreme Clumsiness.
In had been during her trip to the loo, while she was magicking the stain away in the seemingly empty room, that he had snuck up on her. Who “he” was, she didn’t really know, but the voice had been too deep to be female.
Looking back on it from Malfoy’s couch, she remembered being sent into the wall, a ‘thud’ followed by searing pain as her head made contact. “A bodyguard, Hermione? He’s not very good,” a voice had said. She hadn’t been able to see his face, but that was probably planned. “Keep in mind, I’m just a warning. Surprising, perhaps, after what you did to Boot, but we don’t want to hurt you. And you know just what to do to get us to stop.”
Pushing herself up, Hermione scoffed in disgust. “Honestly, sneaking up on a girl in the loo! Cheating wanker.” She brought her hand up to rub the raw spot on the back of her head. “Any idea how he found us?”
Malfoy, who’d been frowning at her from a chair a few feet away, nodded. “They’re tracing your magical signature. Sterling and I think it means they have a contact inside the Ministry.”
VII. The next couple of weeks were just like the first, only now Hermione didn’t dare mention leaving. She was sure that, if she did, not only would Malfoy have a fit, but he would call Mr. Sterling so that he could have a fit as well.
The first change of pace arrived with Pansy Parkinson, who had been cheated on (not for the first time) by Theodore Nott and was in desperate need of someone to get drunk with.
Malfoy certainly didn’t disappoint. Throughout that evening, the three of them went through two bottles of wine and another two of firewhiskey. Despite her history with Pansy, Hermione felt the need to help, if only because Ginny had been through something similar when she’d gotten back together with Michael Corner the year before. It took she and Malfoy only half an hour to convince her that Nott’s cheating wasn’t her fault, and another three hours to plan the best way to dump him, the best way to kill him, and the best way to dump him so that it kills him.
The one thing none of them noticed, and Hermione tried pointedly not to notice, was the close relation between how much drunken touching Pansy was doing with her best mate and how many shots of firewhiskey Hermione accepted.
VI. The second Hermione woke up the next morning, she wished she hadn’t. As her head pounded, she remembered why it had been two years since the last time she had allowed Ginny to get her drunk. Also, awake and in desperate need of a hangover potion, the part of her with a vague recollection of the night before didn’t particularly want to face Malfoy.
As soon as Pansy had taken to using him as a chair and wrapping her arms around his neck, Hermione could remember making an excuse followed by a hasty exit, her drunken mind oblivious as to why it should bother her so much. Sober again, she had a pretty good idea, even if it was no less confusing to consider.
To make things worse, she remembered hearing laughter, a couple of ‘Oh, Draco’s, and some crashing around through the wall of her guest room before she’d finally fallen asleep.
However, her head throbbing painfully again, she knew she couldn’t rightly hide out all morning. There was no way she’d be able to work in this condition.
In the kitchen, thankfully, Malfoy was alone and he’d already set out a cup of coffee with, bless him, a vial of hangover potion next to it.
A couple minutes later, the desire to blot out the sun gone, she joined him at the table. “Did you and Parkinson have fun last night after I left?”
“Oh, yes. I had to give her a sleeping potion just so she’d stop drinking and I could put her to bed.” He looked up from his newspaper and smirked at her. “Why? Jealous, Granger?”
She snorted derisively into her coffee, but even as she did, a voice in the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like Ginny asked her, “Well, are you?”
V. Later that day, sitting on the couch, chewing her lip and scribbling notes onto a large scroll of parchment, she heard Malfoy’s voice ask, “So, are you ever going to tell me what it is that’s got people attacking you on the streets and in loos?”
She was surprised by the question. She’d never considered that he’d want to know, though, thinking about it, it was natural that he’d be curious. She nodded. “If you’d like. According to what Harry and Ron have told me, you may actually be the only Auror who doesn’t know. The rest of the department are working to identify the members of the group that have been attacking me.”
She expected Malfoy to frown at being the one left to baby-sit while everyone else investigated, but he simply nodded.
“I’ve been working on a counter curse,” she told him, “for something we’ve simply been calling The Nightmare Curse. Anyone who’s hit with it experiences their worst nightmare. Like a boggart, I suppose, only more intense and much more dangerous. The ones who have been attacking me are members of the group who invented it; members of a group who have been targeting former Death Eaters. All of their victims, or all of the ones the Ministry knows about, have died because of it.”
Malfoy’s eyes were wide, and his snort of laughter was completely without mirth. “So, that’s why I got this assignment. Maybe Shacklebolt likes me after all.”
IV. It was almost a week later when Hermione finally had a breakthrough. Since starting the project, she had gone through two industrial-sized boxes of paper clips from a muggle office supply store transfigured into spiders, and as of that day, the first one finally survived.
She checked the clock--it was still early. She hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Is Zabini’s owl still here?” Malfoy had all of his mail sent to Blaise Zabini’s, who sent it along. Not even the Ministry had access to Malfoy’s true address. It truly was one of the Wizarding World’s best kept secrets.
Malfoy nodded and motioned to the corner. “I gave him some food. Why? Is something wrong?”
She turned her triumphant grin on him. “Definitely not. I think I may have actually figured it out.”
He didn’t return the smile. “You think? How can you know?”
“Well, I won’t be certain until I can test it on an actual victim, but-”
“Can you test it on me?”
She froze. “You’re not serious. You can’t be.”
“This isn’t the kind of thing you say unless you mean it, Granger.”
“If I’m wrong, it could kill you, Malfoy.”
“Since when has that ever been a problem for you?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Besides, when have you ever been wrong about something like this?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Look, Granger, I trust you not to let me die. I trust you.”
III. “And you’re positive this will work, Hermione?” Mr. Sterling was pinching the bridge of his nose again, as she had no doubt he’d been doing ever since she’d been attacked the second time.
“Of course I am! I’d still be locked up in Malfoy’s guest room if I weren’t.”
“Have you tested it?”
She pursed her lips and glanced at Malfoy, who had decided to accompany her even though she was perfectly safe inside the Ministry. “Reluctantly, though successfully.”
Sterling let out a long breath. “Well, Miss Granger, that is simply extraordinary!”
She smiled. “Thank you, sir. It is not, however, the end.”
Sterling’s and Malfoy’s expressions were both instantly wary. “And what do you mean by that?”
“What I mean, is that we still have no idea who these people are. Outside of Terry Boot, that is, and I assume he’s not given us anything, correct?”
Sterling nodded, more wary by the moment.
“I want to offer myself as bait.”
Here, Malfoy cut in. “No. Absolutely not.”
She scoffed. “I don’t see why not!”
“You could get yourself killed!”
“Since when has that ever been a problem for you?”
Malfoy frowned at having his own words thrown back at him. “Since Potter and Weasley will have me fired, then kill me if anything happens to you.”
“Maybe I trust you not to let me die, have you considered that? I trust you too, Malfoy.”
II. “Terry Boot, Roger Davies, both of the Patil sisters, Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan…Macmillan, really?” Malfoy made a face as he looked over the list of people they’d managed to prove had been involved.
Hermione laughed and nodded. “Apparently, he was the one that snuck up on me in the loo.” This news made Malfoy scowl. “I’ve heard that Harry and Ron have some more special plans for him while he’s in Ministry custody. Unofficially, of course.” She rolled her eyes.
“I may have to join them,” she thought she heard Malfoy mutter, but she could have been imagining it.
She looked at him for a long moment before she spoke again. “Thank you.”
He looked up, confused. “For what?”
She shrugged. “Protecting me. Giving a damn, even if you didn’t really want to.”
“It was just a job.”
She nodded. “Perhaps, but thank you nonetheless.”
“Hermione!” She heard Ron’s voice from the hall. “Come on. Mum and Ginny have been worrying themselves sick, and if we don’t get to the Burrow soon, they’re going to think you’re dead.”
She grinned and shouted back, “On my way!” She turned to Malfoy and smiled at him without thinking. “Goodbye, Malfoy.”
“Draco,” he said. “Call me Draco.”
She nodded slowly, surprised. “Okay. Goodbye, Draco.”
“Goodbye, Hermione.”
I. It was three nights later when Hermione finally decided that giving in to rash impulses wasn’t always a bad thing and Apparated into the alley outside the tea shop. In a parking lot nearby, the car was parked, and she pulled the spare key from the inside of the back left tire.
Half an hour later, she was on his front path. She hadn’t even knocked when the door opened. He seemed to smile, but it turned to a smirk when he saw the car.
“You stole my car.”
“You haven’t changed the wards.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps I just hadn’t gotten around to it.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Perhaps you were waiting for me.”
“And perhaps you simply missed the fabulous wallpaper I have up in the guest room.”
“Ah, yes, that must be it.”
“I do have brilliant taste, after all.”
She was silent for a moment. “I’m not even sure if it was a good idea for me to come here tonight. If I’m wrong about this, about…us, just tell me so that I can take your car back and pretend I never went temporarily insane-”
“When have you ever been wrong?”
She laughed. “About things like this? More often than I’d like to admit.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “You’re not wrong.” He stepped back, inviting her inside, and she stepped forward, off of the Ferris Wheel. Only this time, they’d gotten it right.
Author:
ayane_tsurugiRating: PG-13
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Word Count: 2960
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are the property of J.K. Rowling, who is definitely not me. I make no money from my efforts here; I’m just playing around.
Warnings: Mild violence and language.
Summary: Hermione Granger had always seen life a bit like a Ferris Wheel. You take a ride with every person that comes into your life, each stop an experience that affects your relationship, and when you get off at the end, the two of you either walk away together and connected or split ways forever.
Author’s Notes: Written for kryptiq for the 2009 Dramione Duet on LJ.
XII. Hermione Granger had always seen life a bit like a Ferris Wheel. You take a ride with every person that comes into your life, each stop an experience that affects your relationship, and when you get off at the end, the two of you either walk away together and connected or split ways forever.
However, sitting in her boss’s office next to a stoic Draco Malfoy, she began to wonder if, sometimes, Fate had you go around twice, just to make sure you did things right the first time.
“As you know, Miss Granger, your latest project has caused quite a bit of worry within the Department about your safety,” Mr. Sterling began, pinching the bridge of his nose. Inwardly, Hermione sighed. A week before, she had been attacked coming out of a restaurant with Ginny Weasley, but other than a few bruises, she’d been fine. As Ginny had told a worried Ron and Harry, “you should see the other guy” was a bit of an understatement. Despite that, Sterling had been trying to convince her to give it up ever since. “Seeing as you refuse to let it go, we have decided to provide you with protection. Mr. Malfoy here is a newly licensed Auror and you will be under his watchful eye until your project has been completed.”
She started to protest, but knew there was no point. This was likely the only way the Department would allow her to continue her work.
“We’ve packed you a trunk.”
XI. She didn’t have to wonder long why her protective detail included staying in Malfoy’s guest room. Once they’d left the Ministry, it took them nearly half an hour to reach his front path.
Malfoy’s house was firmly in the middle of a very beautiful nowhere. He’d isolated himself well from the world: the nearest Apparation point was in a nearby village, where he kept a muggle car for the remainder of the journey, most of which involved a winding dirt road.
As they drove, Malfoy even told her at a fork in the road that, to anyone else traveling there, it wasn’t a fork at all. The path to his house, much like the house itself, was heavily warded. She considered asking him where his deep-seeded paranoia had come from, but she didn’t have to. “Believe it or not,” he’d told her bitterly, “being a former Death Eater doesn’t pave a smooth road in this society.”
“The only ones who know how to get here, and who are able to get here, are Greg, Pansy, Blaise, and Mother. This property is one of the best kept secrets in the Wizarding World. In other words, if you’re not safe here, Mr. Sterling was wasting his time because obviously Fate was out for your life. Understand?” Hermione nodded, and was honestly fairly impressed. She knew how much prejudice former Death Eaters had been facing since the end of the war, and despite that, Malfoy seemed to have done well for himself.
X. She woke the next morning to a tapping on the window of her guest room. It was an owl she didn’t recognize, but the writing on the envelope was distinguishable even before she’d removed it from the bird’s leg: Harry. He and Ron must have found out Malfoy’s latest assignment when they’d come in. She shook her head.
The note, just as she’d imagined, was a lengthy rant disguised as an apology that they weren’t the ones protecting her instead of Malfoy. It also described in detail what they would do to him if anything happened to her, which made her roll her eyes. Malfoy had his Auror license, which meant he was fully qualified for this job, no matter how much didn’t want it.
Walking into the hall, she caught the distinct smell of coffee coming from downstairs and headed that way graciously. She still had the letter in her hand when she entered the kitchen, and she heard Malfoy say, “So you got one too, then?”
He was sitting at the table, nursing a cup of coffee with the Daily Prophet on one side and what appeared to be the remnants of a howler on the other. She winced. “They worry, is all,” she told him, then sighed.
“You mean they think I’ll turn you over.”
“You might expect something from Molly Weasley as well, once she gets word.”
He nodded to the remnants. “This one was from Molly Weasley. The one from Potter and Weasley is on the counter.”
IX. After nearly two weeks, Hermione began to understand what it meant to be going stir-crazy. She’d spent almost the entire time working, and the sight of the inside of her guest room was beginning to annoy her for no reason other than overexposure.
It was with this in mind that she convinced herself that she needed chocolate. And by ‘chocolate,’ she didn’t mean anything that Malfoy’s house elf could bring her. She meant chocolate from the grocery shop in the village.
“No,” Malfoy said, and she’d known he would, but she didn’t care. He may have been an Auror, but his objection wasn’t about to stop her.
She kept backing toward the door. “Look, Malfoy, I know how to drive a car. I’m going whether you want me to or not, so you can either get your jacket and come along, or hush up and drink your coffee.”
He started for his wand, but she already had hers ready. “Don’t even try it.”
“You’re going to get me fired, Granger,” he growled.
“Don’t be preposterous,” she said, putting her wand back in its holster. “This is my idea, so I’m sure I can get you out of trouble if it finds you. Besides, Auror Shacklebolt likes me.”
“That makes one of us.”
VIII. When Hermione woke up, she noticed two things: her pounding headache and the fact that she was back at Malfoy’s.
“I told you it wasn’t a good idea, Granger.”
She groaned as the first groggy memories floated to the front of her mind.
The trip to the grocery shop had gone without incident, to Malfoy’s relief, and so he was less wary when she suggested that they stay in the village to get some tea. Unfortunately, within the realm of the word ‘incident,’ they had neglected to factor in Hermione’s periodic bouts of Extreme Clumsiness.
In had been during her trip to the loo, while she was magicking the stain away in the seemingly empty room, that he had snuck up on her. Who “he” was, she didn’t really know, but the voice had been too deep to be female.
Looking back on it from Malfoy’s couch, she remembered being sent into the wall, a ‘thud’ followed by searing pain as her head made contact. “A bodyguard, Hermione? He’s not very good,” a voice had said. She hadn’t been able to see his face, but that was probably planned. “Keep in mind, I’m just a warning. Surprising, perhaps, after what you did to Boot, but we don’t want to hurt you. And you know just what to do to get us to stop.”
Pushing herself up, Hermione scoffed in disgust. “Honestly, sneaking up on a girl in the loo! Cheating wanker.” She brought her hand up to rub the raw spot on the back of her head. “Any idea how he found us?”
Malfoy, who’d been frowning at her from a chair a few feet away, nodded. “They’re tracing your magical signature. Sterling and I think it means they have a contact inside the Ministry.”
VII. The next couple of weeks were just like the first, only now Hermione didn’t dare mention leaving. She was sure that, if she did, not only would Malfoy have a fit, but he would call Mr. Sterling so that he could have a fit as well.
The first change of pace arrived with Pansy Parkinson, who had been cheated on (not for the first time) by Theodore Nott and was in desperate need of someone to get drunk with.
Malfoy certainly didn’t disappoint. Throughout that evening, the three of them went through two bottles of wine and another two of firewhiskey. Despite her history with Pansy, Hermione felt the need to help, if only because Ginny had been through something similar when she’d gotten back together with Michael Corner the year before. It took she and Malfoy only half an hour to convince her that Nott’s cheating wasn’t her fault, and another three hours to plan the best way to dump him, the best way to kill him, and the best way to dump him so that it kills him.
The one thing none of them noticed, and Hermione tried pointedly not to notice, was the close relation between how much drunken touching Pansy was doing with her best mate and how many shots of firewhiskey Hermione accepted.
VI. The second Hermione woke up the next morning, she wished she hadn’t. As her head pounded, she remembered why it had been two years since the last time she had allowed Ginny to get her drunk. Also, awake and in desperate need of a hangover potion, the part of her with a vague recollection of the night before didn’t particularly want to face Malfoy.
As soon as Pansy had taken to using him as a chair and wrapping her arms around his neck, Hermione could remember making an excuse followed by a hasty exit, her drunken mind oblivious as to why it should bother her so much. Sober again, she had a pretty good idea, even if it was no less confusing to consider.
To make things worse, she remembered hearing laughter, a couple of ‘Oh, Draco’s, and some crashing around through the wall of her guest room before she’d finally fallen asleep.
However, her head throbbing painfully again, she knew she couldn’t rightly hide out all morning. There was no way she’d be able to work in this condition.
In the kitchen, thankfully, Malfoy was alone and he’d already set out a cup of coffee with, bless him, a vial of hangover potion next to it.
A couple minutes later, the desire to blot out the sun gone, she joined him at the table. “Did you and Parkinson have fun last night after I left?”
“Oh, yes. I had to give her a sleeping potion just so she’d stop drinking and I could put her to bed.” He looked up from his newspaper and smirked at her. “Why? Jealous, Granger?”
She snorted derisively into her coffee, but even as she did, a voice in the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like Ginny asked her, “Well, are you?”
V. Later that day, sitting on the couch, chewing her lip and scribbling notes onto a large scroll of parchment, she heard Malfoy’s voice ask, “So, are you ever going to tell me what it is that’s got people attacking you on the streets and in loos?”
She was surprised by the question. She’d never considered that he’d want to know, though, thinking about it, it was natural that he’d be curious. She nodded. “If you’d like. According to what Harry and Ron have told me, you may actually be the only Auror who doesn’t know. The rest of the department are working to identify the members of the group that have been attacking me.”
She expected Malfoy to frown at being the one left to baby-sit while everyone else investigated, but he simply nodded.
“I’ve been working on a counter curse,” she told him, “for something we’ve simply been calling The Nightmare Curse. Anyone who’s hit with it experiences their worst nightmare. Like a boggart, I suppose, only more intense and much more dangerous. The ones who have been attacking me are members of the group who invented it; members of a group who have been targeting former Death Eaters. All of their victims, or all of the ones the Ministry knows about, have died because of it.”
Malfoy’s eyes were wide, and his snort of laughter was completely without mirth. “So, that’s why I got this assignment. Maybe Shacklebolt likes me after all.”
IV. It was almost a week later when Hermione finally had a breakthrough. Since starting the project, she had gone through two industrial-sized boxes of paper clips from a muggle office supply store transfigured into spiders, and as of that day, the first one finally survived.
She checked the clock--it was still early. She hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Is Zabini’s owl still here?” Malfoy had all of his mail sent to Blaise Zabini’s, who sent it along. Not even the Ministry had access to Malfoy’s true address. It truly was one of the Wizarding World’s best kept secrets.
Malfoy nodded and motioned to the corner. “I gave him some food. Why? Is something wrong?”
She turned her triumphant grin on him. “Definitely not. I think I may have actually figured it out.”
He didn’t return the smile. “You think? How can you know?”
“Well, I won’t be certain until I can test it on an actual victim, but-”
“Can you test it on me?”
She froze. “You’re not serious. You can’t be.”
“This isn’t the kind of thing you say unless you mean it, Granger.”
“If I’m wrong, it could kill you, Malfoy.”
“Since when has that ever been a problem for you?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Besides, when have you ever been wrong about something like this?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Look, Granger, I trust you not to let me die. I trust you.”
III. “And you’re positive this will work, Hermione?” Mr. Sterling was pinching the bridge of his nose again, as she had no doubt he’d been doing ever since she’d been attacked the second time.
“Of course I am! I’d still be locked up in Malfoy’s guest room if I weren’t.”
“Have you tested it?”
She pursed her lips and glanced at Malfoy, who had decided to accompany her even though she was perfectly safe inside the Ministry. “Reluctantly, though successfully.”
Sterling let out a long breath. “Well, Miss Granger, that is simply extraordinary!”
She smiled. “Thank you, sir. It is not, however, the end.”
Sterling’s and Malfoy’s expressions were both instantly wary. “And what do you mean by that?”
“What I mean, is that we still have no idea who these people are. Outside of Terry Boot, that is, and I assume he’s not given us anything, correct?”
Sterling nodded, more wary by the moment.
“I want to offer myself as bait.”
Here, Malfoy cut in. “No. Absolutely not.”
She scoffed. “I don’t see why not!”
“You could get yourself killed!”
“Since when has that ever been a problem for you?”
Malfoy frowned at having his own words thrown back at him. “Since Potter and Weasley will have me fired, then kill me if anything happens to you.”
“Maybe I trust you not to let me die, have you considered that? I trust you too, Malfoy.”
II. “Terry Boot, Roger Davies, both of the Patil sisters, Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan…Macmillan, really?” Malfoy made a face as he looked over the list of people they’d managed to prove had been involved.
Hermione laughed and nodded. “Apparently, he was the one that snuck up on me in the loo.” This news made Malfoy scowl. “I’ve heard that Harry and Ron have some more special plans for him while he’s in Ministry custody. Unofficially, of course.” She rolled her eyes.
“I may have to join them,” she thought she heard Malfoy mutter, but she could have been imagining it.
She looked at him for a long moment before she spoke again. “Thank you.”
He looked up, confused. “For what?”
She shrugged. “Protecting me. Giving a damn, even if you didn’t really want to.”
“It was just a job.”
She nodded. “Perhaps, but thank you nonetheless.”
“Hermione!” She heard Ron’s voice from the hall. “Come on. Mum and Ginny have been worrying themselves sick, and if we don’t get to the Burrow soon, they’re going to think you’re dead.”
She grinned and shouted back, “On my way!” She turned to Malfoy and smiled at him without thinking. “Goodbye, Malfoy.”
“Draco,” he said. “Call me Draco.”
She nodded slowly, surprised. “Okay. Goodbye, Draco.”
“Goodbye, Hermione.”
I. It was three nights later when Hermione finally decided that giving in to rash impulses wasn’t always a bad thing and Apparated into the alley outside the tea shop. In a parking lot nearby, the car was parked, and she pulled the spare key from the inside of the back left tire.
Half an hour later, she was on his front path. She hadn’t even knocked when the door opened. He seemed to smile, but it turned to a smirk when he saw the car.
“You stole my car.”
“You haven’t changed the wards.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps I just hadn’t gotten around to it.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Perhaps you were waiting for me.”
“And perhaps you simply missed the fabulous wallpaper I have up in the guest room.”
“Ah, yes, that must be it.”
“I do have brilliant taste, after all.”
She was silent for a moment. “I’m not even sure if it was a good idea for me to come here tonight. If I’m wrong about this, about…us, just tell me so that I can take your car back and pretend I never went temporarily insane-”
“When have you ever been wrong?”
She laughed. “About things like this? More often than I’d like to admit.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “You’re not wrong.” He stepped back, inviting her inside, and she stepped forward, off of the Ferris Wheel. Only this time, they’d gotten it right.