Chapter Ten

Everything suddenly clicked for Hermione. The mix-up of what city Alissa went to, the injured arm, the little box that must have been a lock picking kit, and, most importantly, the dist. She’d been using Hermione the same way Hermione had been using her. She wasn’t angry, but Hermione knew a normal Muggle would be. Hermione could only appreciate the irony of the situation. “You’ve been using me all this time?” Hermione asked harshly, “I thought you were my friend.”

“Are you aware that SecureCo Inc is a front for a Spanish terrorist group known as Las Brujas?” Agent MacArthur asked.

Act shocked, Hermione told herself, no witty remarks. “Of course not!” Indignation was fine, “I don’t know much about SecureCo.”

“Tell us what you know.”

“I was told that SecureCo is run by a man named Marcus Vaughn, his son, Julian, will inherit the company. They make top of the line security systems for anything that may need it, computers, cars, homes, you name it. They’ve only been around for about ten years.”

“You said you were a systems analyst, but what exactly did you do?”

“I ran various tests on computer security systems, checking for errors.”

The man wrote down her answers. Alissa was studying her strangely. “Did you ever run into anything out of the ordinary?”

Hermione kept quiet for a moment, pretending to think, “No, the systems are state of the art, amazing, but not strange.”

“I see, explain your relationship with Julian Vaughn.”

At this point, Hermione knew, a normal Muggle would be offended. “We had coffee, I don’t see how that is relevant. Are you going to delve more into my private life fishing for nonexistent information, or may I leave?”

“Would you like something to drink?”

This almost threw Hermione off, she said, “No, thank you,” as curtly as possible. Alissa nodded. Agent MacArthur stood up and they walked out of the room. Unlike on television, they didn’t face a glass door and talk right in front of her. They closed the door and walked far enough away so that she couldn’t hear them.

A few minutes later, the two MI-5 agents came back. “You’re free to go,” Alissa said, “Though we may need to contact you at a later date.”

“I’m in the process of moving,” she said, glaring at Alissa, “You know my mobile number.” She stood up and walked past her interrogators. A nervous looking man led her to the exit. Malfoy was waiting for her.

“They didn’t use the thumbscrews with you either?” The receptionist raised her eyebrows. Hermione couldn’t help it, she burst into hysterical laughter. After a minute, Malfoy said, “Damn, Granger, it wasn’t that funny.”

Hermione walked out of the office still laughing. Malfoy followed. Once they were on the street, she gasped out, “Alissa’s MI-5.”

Evidently, Malfoy didn’t find humor in the situation, “Your roommate?”

The smile wiped off of her face, “She’s been spying on the company for a long time.” After that, Hermione fell silent.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s nothing important.” She didn’t have any place to stay. Even if Alissa would let her stay in the flat, Hermione didn’t want to. “Did you drive to the office today?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s good.” She couldn’t think of what else to day, but something was nagging at her. “Have you ever heard of Las Brujas?”

“It’s an amateur Quidditch team, probably thought they were clever, why?”

“What does it mean?”

“The witches, why is it so important?”

“SecureCo was a front for a group called Las Brujas, isn’t today just full of irony?” She walked off, heading for the nearest tube station. Malfoy would probably just write the mission off as a failure and return to their employer, but Hermione had to many questions and next to no answers. When she reached the flat, she walked straight to her room and packed up enough clothes for a week, her toiletries, and her computer.

For the first time in her life she was on her own. Her friends and family couldn’t help her, to them she was just a ministry flunky, going to her employer was impossible, once they found out that she knew something was amiss, she’d be the target of assassins from London to Timbuktu. And Malfoy, well, that was obvious.

She walked out of the flat, bag in tow. Once on the street she heard a radio blasting the date, time and temperature. She was hours late for dinner with her parents, and they had no way of contacting her. She whipped out her mobile and punched in the number. Her mother picked up.

“Mum, hey,” she said, “I am so sorry about dinner. There was some trouble at work.”

“Nothing to serious, I hope.”

Hermione winced. “No, nothing to serious.” It hurt lying to her mother. But now, more than ever it was important. The silence stretched between them. “I need to go, Mum, I’m using a payphone and there are people waiting. I’ll stop by soon.” I hope.

“Oh, alright. I’ll tell your father you called. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Hermione hung up her mobile and stuck it in her pocket. Now, Hermione felt like scum, or worse. Not only did she need to lie to her mother about where and who she worked for, but even her methods of communication because, Merlin knew, wizards did not need mobile phones, or house phones for that matter. But she needed to deal with crisis number three, not thirty-seven. It was so much easier when Voldemort was trying to kill us. She laughed, who would’ve thought that Hermione Granger, of all people, would lament the present day and wish to be back before he died.

‘Granger?’

It was Malfoy, intruding her thoughts loud and clear from across the city. ‘What?’ she snapped.

‘We’ve got a problem.’

This was classic. ‘We’ve got a problem? Right, give it a number and tell it to get in line. I have enough problems as it is.’

‘This one could land us both dead or worse in seventy-two hours.’

Well, in that case, ‘Look, the number one slot just opened up. How convenient.’

‘Can you meet me somewhere?’

‘Why not your flat?’

He paused, thinking before willing a thought to her, they were getting good at not leaking personal thoughts, ‘It’s a little…messy.’

When she’d been there it was meticulously clean. Malfoy wouldn’t let it look bad, it might ruin his image. She got the picture, ‘Where then?’

‘I’ll pick you up at your old flat. We’ll figure something out.’

At least he understood what was going on with her living situation. ‘That’s fine.’ She walked the short distance back to the building and sat on the bench out front. The light from the street lamp cast a glow on the bench, making it seem lighter outside than it was.

Someone sat down next to her. “I know you probably hate me right now, but just let me say something.”

“Make it quick,” said Hermione, “Someone’s picking me up.”

“I’m sorry. It’s inadequate, I know, but I couldn’t tell you. SecureCo was…is…bad, I couldn’t…”

“Trust me. You couldn’t trust me, Alissa.”

“No,” she said, “I couldn’t tell you. I’ve always trusted you.”

“What if the situation were reversed, and I was the spy? Wouldn’t you feel hurt, betrayed?”

“Well, I suppose--”

“You would, and I do. And my hypothetical question doesn’t even matter because it is the way it is. You’re right, I’m sorry is inadequate. I really don’t want to see you right now, just go inside before I say something that we’ll both regret.”

Alissa stood up, but before walking away, she said, “I know you’re hiding something.” After her cryptic announcement, she walked inside.

Malfoy pulled up a few minutes later. “So, Malfoy,” she said brightly, “How has your day been?”

“Long,” he said shortly, “But I believe both of us are past the phase in our partnership for awkward small talk.” He said nothing, staring at the road with a harsh set to his mouth.

He was being cold, now, almost like the Slytherin prince he’d been at Hogwarts. She thought she knew where she stood with Malfoy, apparently, she was wrong. “If you’re going to be a bastard, fine, I don’t care, but at least hold it in for three days. If were both alive after that, say whatever you want.”

“I don’t want to fight with you, Granger.”

“Sure had me fooled.” They lapsed back into silence.

He drove for several more minutes until finally parking. “It’s only a block away.”

They walked the distance to a restaurant. “A Chinese restaurant? Do you know how cliché that is? Were having a clandestine meeting here?”

He walked inside, not answering her. By the time she’d walked through the two heavy doors he was already being led to a table. “Japanese.”

“What?”

“This is a Japanese restaurant, and most of the English speaking clientele comes here during the day. At night, the few people who come here tend to speak Japanese, they’d be hard pressed to understand an English conversation while speaking in their tongue.”

The waitress came up to them, “Kon ban wa.”

“Kon ban wa,” Malfoy replied, “Ni ocha o kudasai.”

“Hai.” She said, and walked away.

“You speak Japanese?”

He shrugged, “It’s just a little something I picked up.”

“I’m sure.” The Yakuza probably had a contingent of Death Eaters. “I’d like a tea, though, when she comes back.”

He smirked, “That’s what I ordered for you.”

“Gee, thanks, Malfoy.” The waitress brought them their teas and left with a little bow. He didn’t say anything about the threat he received, just sat silently drinking his tea. She drank two, he wouldn’t talk until he was ready. It took him over five minutes.

“My flat was a mess when I went back. They didn’t even try to clean up, clothes out of the drawers, papers on the floor. Nothing was stolen though, it was just a message. The actual message was a clue to that though.” He pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket.

“You have seventy-two hours to find and deliver the security system, or else.”

“They’re really going for subtlety. What do you want to do about it?”

“Find and deliver the security system.”

“They’re threatening our lives,” she said harshly, “You just want to hand them something that could endanger wizard kind?”

“They want the security system, not the bioweapon.”

“And what makes you so sure those two things aren’t connected?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t really have warm and fuzzy feelings about being threatened by my employer. They could kill us, you know.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “I’ve looked death in the eyes. I’ve been bloodied, and I’ve bloodied others, and that isn’t false bravado or pride talking, it’s the truth. After all the times your dad’s boss tried to kill me, I can’t fear death all to much.”

“Has not dieing given you a sense of immortality?”

“I’m perfectly aware of my mortality, thank you, but if someone’s going to kill me, they’ll kill me. I’ll dodge and throw as many curses as I can until then.”

“You really mean that?”

Somehow he couldn’t grasp the concept. “You’ve never been in an actual battle, have you? All those years, and never once.”

He was silent, but that was answer enough.

“I’m not giving them anything, Malfoy. I’ll fight you, if I have to, but I’m finding what I can, and I will destroy the people we work for.” She said it with conviction. Alone, she could do it, but in bringing down the organization, she would probably die. With Malfoy’s help, as much as she was loathe to admit it, they had a glimmer of a chance.

“And the threat?”

“The way I see it, they gave us a seventy-two hour head start. And, believe me, that is the longest I’ve ever had.” He seemed to want to side with her.

“What are the odds, do you think?”

“Alone, we’re both dead. Together, it’s 50/50.” She didn’t mention that 50/50 meant at least on of them would survive. Hopefully.

“50/50?”

“It’s better than certain death.”

He nodded, “Good point.”

“You’re not a good guy, Malfoy, why are you even thinking of siding with me? Not that I’m pushing you away, you’re all I’ve got right now.”

He thought for a moment, “I may be bad, and I may be prejudiced, but I don’t want to kill our entire race. That’s just stupid, as far as I can tell. And giving one organization that neither of us know anything reliable about a tool that could wipe us out is stupid, as well.”

Hermione was shocked. He sounded sincere. “You’re telling me that you, Draco Malfoy, want to save the wizarding world? Mudbloods like me included.”

“For the first time in our lives, Granger, we’re on the same side. By choice.”

It was an interesting way to phrase it, but utterly correct. In the last weeks they’d been forced to work together, but now, this was their agreement, on their terms. “So we have a deal?” She asked.

“Indeed we do.”

“Let’s toast it then, before the tea is too cold.” She held up her cup, “To choice.”

“To choice.”