Chapter Eleven

“So what now?” Malfoy asked. “Partnership was your idea, I assume you have a plan?”

‘Pretentious git,’ she thought, not caring if he heard, but guarding the thought anyway. “Partnership, Malfoy, it means we both have a say in things. But since you seem to like being ordered around, I’d say the first order of business is finding a place to stay.”

“We have seventy-two hours and you’re worried about sleep?”

She sighed, “I’m tired, yes, but I’m more concerned about having a base of operations. Your flat is probably being watched by our employer, my flat is probably being watched by our employer and MI-5, not to mention, it’s Alissa’s flat, too--”

Malfoy held up a hand. “We keep assuming that’s a bad thing, but what if it’s not?”

“She’s an agent of the British government and has been spying on me for months. Not to mention, she’s a Muggle. How are those things not bad?”

“I’d be willing to wager that she knows more about SecureCo and Las Brujas than we do.”

He had a point, “Why would she help us?”

“What do you think bringing down something like Las Brujas would do for her career? It would make her, she’d probably be put into the super spy hall of fame, if there is such a thing.”

“But why would she risk her career, and believe me, it would be a risk, to help two ‘Muggle’ civilians? She’ll automatically be suspicious.”

“She knows, or at least, could know that wizarding kind exists. I say we give her proof in the flesh, so to speak.”

“And when scientists lock us up for study because she turned us over to them?”

“I’ll admit that I was wrong. Call her, we can always wiper her memory if it doesn’t work.”

That was how, less than an hour later, Hermione found herself in a doughnut shop sipping coffee and waiting for Alissa. When she saw her at the door she said to Malfoy, “Last chance to back out.”

He scoffed, “Malfoys never back out.”

Alissa said down after getting a tea. “Hermione,” she said in greeting, “Draco.” They sat silently, no one daring to speak. Finally Alissa said, “You said you had some interesting information for me.”

They’d decided that Malfoy would speak first. “You need information, we need information. I can’t give you all that I know until you agree to trade, but I can promise that if you do, what we tell you could be vital in destroying Las Brujas.”

“What do you know about Las Brujas?”

He shook his head. “We need you to agree first.”

She thought for a long moment, greed battling with logic. Finally, greed one, “Alright, we’ll trade. You first. But if what you say isn’t worth anything, I’m walking.”

Malfoy nodded to Hermione. “You said I was hiding something,” she said. “You’re right.” Alissa didn’t look shocked, she just raised an eyebrow. Maybe she was a Slytherin in another life. “I’m a witch, Malfoy there is a wizard.”

She started to stand up. “You’re wasting my time.”

“Accio salt shaker,” Malfoy said, pointing his wand.

“You expect me to believe some sleight of hand parlor trick,” she picked up the saltshaker, checking its authenticity. Disappointed with her results, she said, “The hand is quicker than the eye.”

“How long are you going to pretend not to believe us?” asked Hermione. “We don’t have all night.”

“Pretend?”

“Remember that disk? The one detailing a bioweapon designed to destroy wizard kind? The one I pretended that I hadn’t read?”

Alissa sat back down, “Fine, I was aware of your…kind. Why are you telling me now? And, why do you care about Las Brujas? And what do you know about them?”

“Not much.”

“Then why am I even here?” Alissa stood up.

“Sit back down, Alissa,” said Malfoy.

“You have nothing for me.”

“Actually,” said Hermione, “We may. Please, sit.”

Alissa sat.

“Five years ago,” said Hermione, “There was a war between wizards. It was bad, a lot of people died, my best friend and Malfoy’s father, among others. This wasn’t a war for territory, it was based on one side’s belief that certain wizards were intrinsically better than others. These people, Death Eaters, were led by a man called Lord Voldermort. He and his followers killed, tortured, and performed other atrocities against people like you and people like me, Muggles and Muggleborns.”

“What about him?” Alissa nodded to Malfoy.

“Malfoy is what is called a Pureblood. They’re like the Aryans of wizard kind.”

“So the man was like Hitler?”

“It’s not a bad comparison. My best friend killed him five years ago. The war, for all intents and purposes ended. Many of the Death Eaters were punished, some weren’t. But the beliefs still survive today. Malfoy and I believe that Las Brujas is made up of former Death Eaters trying to punish the magical world for letting people like me in.”

“What about Draco?”

“What about him?”

“What did he do in the war? You said you lost a friend and your other friend defeated the Lord person. So, what was his job?”

Hermione looked at Malfoy. It was his decision to talk about his role.

“I was a Death Eater.”

“Oh.” There was a moment of tense silence. Then, “How can you work with him?”

“Neither of us has a choice at this point.”

“I see.”

“Please, Alissa,” said Hermione, “We need to know about Las Brujas.”

Alissa took a deep breath, “They’re a fairly new player, so to speak. We’ve only known about them for a year, maybe less. But just because they’re new doesn’t mean they’re not dangerous. They killed my partner today, hard to believe it‘s still today.”

“I’m sorry. Who was he?”

“His name was Marcus Rickson, he worked in accounting. We were trying to catch SecureCo with accounting fraud, or just get a clue, but they found us first. The disk we have, I take it you made a copy?”

Malfoy nodded.

“That seems to be their most ambitious project. Until you told me otherwise, I assumed they were a human threat, not wizards.”

“We’re still human, Alissa.”

“Right, then, we thought they were Muggles. So you think they’ll use this as a way to dissuade certain types of people from using magic?’

Malfoy snorted, “That would be the best case scenario. With the competition gone, they could potentially start enslaving Muggles. Not all of them, not yet, but sometime during our lives, most Muggles could be enslaved and only Purebloods, and Half bloods deemed worthy would possess magic.”

“It seems like you’ve thought this out.”

“I was a Death Eater for a long time.”

“What else do you know about them?”

“Not much, but there is one man who may know something. He’s been a helpful resource for the Department of Paranormal and Abnormal Incidents.” She took a card out of her pocket and wrote the name and contact information down, “He may know more, but I’ve told you all I can.” She stood up, “You’re not coming back to the flat?”

“I’ll come back to pick up my things in a few days.”

“I see. Good night, then.” Alissa walked out of the doughnut shop.

“I saw a suitable hotel on our way here,” said Malfoy. Mentally, he added, ‘Do you think she’ll follow us?’

‘Is the Pope Catholic?’

‘What?’

‘It means yes, Malfoy. Cast a cloaking spell on yourself and then we’ll go.’

‘How will you follow me, oh brilliant one?’

‘Telepathically, besides, I know what hotel you saw. Two blocks down and to the right?’

He said nothing, just nodded, angry that she was right. The spell they were using would not make them invisible, but it would make them appear like something else. Most importantly, Alissa wouldn’t follow them.

They arrived to the hotel safely and rented a room for the night. Once they were in the room (with two beds, thankfully), Hermione asked, “Have you ever heard of Arnold Welby?”

“No.”

“I’ll call him in the morning. I doubt he’d be too receiving at 1,” she glanced at the clock, “47.”

“Yeah,” Now, Malfoy got quiet, he was sitting on one of the beds.

“I’m going to wash up and go to sleep, you should do the same.”

“Did you really kill him?” He asked quietly.

Hermione turned around and sat down next to him. “I wish I could say no with certainty. But I honestly don’t know.”

“How can you not know?” He stood up and started pacing. “You should know who you murder.”

“First of all, Malfoy,” she stood up and got in his way, “It was war, not murder, and second of all, I never cast the killing curse, alright? I killed people, yes, but never with magic. If he died by me, it wasn’t from a curse.”

“Why didn’t you use magic?” They were close now, staring at each other.

She didn’t back down, “They’re called Unforgivable Curses for a reason. Besides, it’s a matter of principle.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Bullshit?”

“I’m sure that even insufferable know it all, Hermione Granger, has heard the term.”

“Why do you call my principles bullshit, Malfoy?”

“You’re a witch, Granger, you act like one at any other time, why not during battle. If I’m not mistaken, murder is illegal among Muggles?”

“Yes, what--”

“However, in times of war, this practice is not only allowed, but, in fact, encouraged, correct?”

“Yes, Malfoy, killing tends to be condoned during wartime.”

“Aren’t Muggles issued guns for battle, when in everyday possession of a gun is, in most cases, illegal?”

She rolled her eyes, “Yes, Malfoy. Extreme measures and all of that.”

“You wouldn’t call a war against the Dark Lord an extreme measure? How many hundreds, if not thousands of people died fighting him? Do you think the dead were grateful that you could keep your conscience intact?”

She didn’t have a response, “I’m going to wash up and catch a little sleep. I’d suggest you do the same.”

“You always do that, you know?”

“Do what?”

“You’ll figure it out.” He turned out the light next to his bed and lay down. Hermione went into the bathroom. When she was done, she went to sleep.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, not this again.” Malfoy was sitting on a stool in what appeared to be the house she grew up in.

“Like I want to be here either.” He snapped.

“It’s not the locale I have a problem with, it’s the company. For your information, I’m never going to agree to anything you suggest ever again.”

“That’ll make our partnership rather difficult, won’t it?”

“I guess I’ll just have to call all of the shots.”

He rolled his eyes, “I walked into that one, didn’t I?”

“Very much so.” Hermione stood still for a moment and then came to a decision, “Bye, Malfoy,” she said.

Hermione opened her eyes and looked around, she knew the memory immediately. ‘Not this,’ she thought, ‘Was Malfoy really that bad?’

He probably was.

It was just after Ron’s funeral, she saw herself and Harry. “Come with me…please,” she heard her other self say.

She knew where this would lead, and she knew she couldn’t stop it, but that didn’t stop her from trying. She ran to the ghosts of the past, “Don’t go with me,” she screamed at Harry, but he didn’t hear her.

Her old self and Harry walked to an inn in Hogsmeade, they said nothing, they didn’t need to. Harry rented a room. They walked up the stairs, hand in hand. When they reached the door, Harry opened it, neither of them hesitated. Both knew what would happen.

Still, they didn’t speak.

It wasn’t awkward, it should have been. He kissed her, hard, like he wanted to crawl inside her mouth. It was violent and needy.

Hermione, the real Hermione, turned away. She’d seen in, and done it all before.

“Surprise, surprise,” Malfoy said, standing behind her, “Apparently, you’re not as innocent as I thought.”