Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter universe, or any other universe for that matter.
Harry awoke with a start, his scar burning into his forehead for the first time in more than two years. He was trying to remember remnants of his dream. There’d been a women’s eerie voice, a ghostly specter of someone familiar, a small child, possibly a girl, and the unmistakable presence of Voldemort. He reached for a quill and some parchment to draft a quick letter to Dumbledore. He hoped he’d be able to meet his old Headmaster the following day. Something was going on- something that was making Voldemort very happy.
Hermione awoke from another fitful night of sleep. She resigned herself to getting up long before her alarm clock went off. She was so anxious about her day, she had no idea how she would in fact get through it. After her shower, she stood looking at her closet contemplating what kind of charm might make it actually suggest something for her to wear. Finally, Ginny took pity on her and picked out a long green skirt and a light brown sweater set. She even made Hermione some coffee and helped her tame her hair and rid herself of the dark purple smudges under her eyes.
“Any chance you’re going to tell me why you’re so nervous?” Ginny asked. Hermione shook her head and continued to look for the matching boot to the one she was already wearing.
“Accio Hermione’s cutest ankle boot,” Ginny said, with a smug look. The wayward boot shot out from underneath a pile of books at the bottom of Hermione’s closet and flew into Ginny’s outstretched hands.
“If I give you your boot, will you at least tell me why you wanted to dress like a stylishly sexy school teacher?” she cooed. Hermione grabbed her boot and then sank down onto her bed to put it on her foot.
“Remember I told you about Louisa?” When Ginny nodded, Hermione continued, “Well, her father arranged for us to meet today at lunchtime. So I’m going to go to her home, present myself as her case-worker and then have a picnic lunch with her in a nearby park. I just want to look nice. I figure she’s used to people dressing as Muggles so that’s why I’m wearing this,” she finished.
“Humph… right. And the sexy stylish aspect of your Muggle outfit has nothing to do with a tall good-looking blond man who will be meeting you in your office in about forty-five minutes, does it?” She paused. “Or do you think that Louisa’s father will show up at the park? That would also explain your current foxiness!” Ginny said as her smug expression returned.
Hermione couldn’t help but to smile. “What if both are true?” she said, allowing herself to giggle at Ginny’s extraordinarily accurate assessment of Hermione’s complicated circumstances. She followed Ginny out of her room and into the kitchen. She was just reaching for a second cup of coffee, when she heard a familiar rushing noise coming from the fireplace. She and Ginny both kneeled down in front of the hearth as Harry’s head popped out of the bright green fire of the Floo network.
“Hermione, Ginny- glad you’re both still here. Look, Hermione can you come by the Order Headquarters later this afternoon? Dumbledore wants to talk with you about something. And Ginny, Ron needs an extra hand today- and from someone affiliated with both the Ministry and the Order. Looks like the Death Eaters have struck a day care center looking for Muggle-borns- don’t worry, no one’s been seriously hurt,” Harry said in a rush.
“Of course, I’ll come by after work,” Hermione said quickly.
“I’ll meet up with Ron in twenty minutes,” said Ginny.
“Be careful, both of you. I had a wake-up call from Voldemort this morning,” he said tapping the lightening bolt scar on his forehead. Harry nodded at them and then disappeared with a small pop from the fireplace.
“Geez. Today is going to be quite a day, isn’t it?” asked Ginny, gulping down the last of her coffee. Hermione followed suit before answering.
“Yeah, looks like. Harry didn’t really say much, did he? I hope those little children are all right. Let me know what happens later, okay? And, Ginny, thanks for helping me this morning,” she said, rather meekly. Ginny gave her friend a quick hug, handed her her briefcase, and then gently shoved her out into the alleyway. She watched as Hermione Apparated seconds later.
Hermione arrived at her office fifteen minutes before she expected Draco. There was another bouquet of flowers on the coffee table in front of the hearth. Usually flowers from her ‘friend-in-need’ made her smile. Today the sight of them made her feel anxious. She sat down on her couch, leaning in to smell the blooms.
“I just don’t get it,” she said in exasperation. He sends me flowers, says incredibly sweet things to me in his letters, and now has arranged for me to meet Louisa- yet all from a position of anonymity, she thought.
“Why doesn’t he want to confront me?” she asked aloud. Oh, he’s just thankful, that’s all. He doesn’t mean it like you think- like you want him to, she thought, sighing aloud. Hermione knew she was really in trouble. She’d long been honest with herself about how much she’d come to respect and even like Draco Malfoy. Heck, she was even honest with herself about how much she was attracted to him! But something had definitely changed recently- and changed without her realizing it until now. She was falling in love.
“Argh! When did this happen?” she exclaimed, jumping up. Great, I’m in love with a single father who tormented me in my childhood, who risked his life to turn spy against his own family, who just happens to be extremely hot, and who trusts me and yet doesn’t trust me all at the same time! she thought.
“What am I thinking?” she muttered. She walked over to her window and peered out into the gardens behind her building. It was going to be a bright and beautiful day. She began to feel excited again about meeting Louisa which helped to push back her anxiety about the child’s father.
A knock at her office door startled her out of her reverie. She crossed the room and opened the door. There stood the man who was increasingly occupying her thoughts. She felt her throat constrict slightly, rendering her momentarily incapable of speech. She gestured for him to come inside.
Draco entered Hermione’s office. A quick glance around confirmed that she’d received the flowers he sent this morning and the ones he’d sent yesterday. His face softened just a bit. She should always have flowers, he thought.
He walked into the room and continued to stand. He was unsure if he should take a seat at her desk or on the couch. He looked at Hermione to take the lead. When he turned to her, he met her eyes. He noticed that she was beginning to blush. He suspected that she might have been staring at him. She still hadn’t said anything. Does this mean what I think it does? he asked himself. He allowed a small smirk to play out across his face. This could be fun, he thought. He let his own gaze travel over her lovely features, drinking her dark curls, her beautiful brown eyes, and they way her disarmingly sexy Muggle clothes fit her body.
Hermione watched as Draco’s face changed into an altogether familiar expression. Is he smirking at me? she thought. He is! That oaf who sends me flowers, writes me sappy letters, and wants me to meet his daughter has the gall to smirk at me - just because I am clearly flustered doesn’t give him the right- oh! she fumed to herself. Now he’s checking me out! she thought wildly. She cleared her throat, all too aware that her face was completely crimson.
“Please sit down,” she gestured to the couch. Draco sat down and noticed a stack of folders on the coffee table next to the flowers.
“Nice flowers- got an admirer?” he asked, lazily. Hermione had been reaching for the stack of cases but instead sent them cascading over the side of the table. She got down on her knees to pick up the mess. To her surprise, Draco too got on the floor and began helping her round up the folders. He grinned at her as he handed over some cases, deliberately brushing his hands against her own. Briefly, he felt the warmth of her skin and noted her small shudder at his touch.
Get a grip, Hermione, she chided to herself. Don’t do anything embarrassing- well, anything else! she thought. She sank back in her chair, across from where he sat on the couch, willing herself to remember the task at hand. Think of the children! You have to focus on the work- you must not give in to this childishness! she inwardly scolded herself. She took a small breath and decided to rise to the occasion, blatantly ignoring the outraged sensible part of herself. Two can play this game, she thought.
“Yes, they are lovely, aren’t they? There was no note so I guess they are from a secret admirer,” she said, pausing to watch him smirk again. “But I think I know who sent them,” she continued, seeing his eyes widen ever so slightly. She thought fast-what would really irk him into possibly revealing himself?
“Oh?” he asked.
“Yes, rather, I think I’ve narrowed down my secret admirer to one of two people. Clearly, it’s either Harry or Ron, don’t you think?” She smiled mischievously at him. Draco’s eyes widened a bit more and he felt his own heart beat faster.
Harry or Ron? Am I competing with either of those two- geez, dimwit Weasel or the friggen’ Boy-Who-Lived- wait, am I competing? he thought. He looked back at her again. Her own smile was now a grin. She turned her attention to the stack of folders in her lap.
“Well, should we get started?” she asked innocently. He nodded and the two began to go through the cases in much the same way as the day before. After about two hours of solid work, they had nearly made their way through the entire stack. She had finished with her cases just a few minutes before him. She allowed herself to really enjoy the good looking blond man sitting directly in front of her. Without realizing it, she let out a small sigh. Draco looked up, smirking at her unwittingly given sound. Hermione quickly stood up from her chair.
“Coffee?” she asked, trying to deflect attention from the fact that she’d been caught staring at him -- again. She was already turning towards the kitchen.
“That’d be great, thanks,” he said, getting up and following her into the kitchen. He watched her take out the coffee and two mugs. He sat down at the little table, never taking his eyes off of her. In no time at all, she joined him at the table with two cups of coffee. He reached for sugar dish, debating with himself about whether or not he wanted to know more about the Harry/Ron situation. He knew he’d continue to think about it unless he asked.
“Do you really think that Potter or Weasley sent you those flowers? I just don’t see them as the type,” he said firmly as if that put the matter to rest. He looked at her, watching for her reaction. He desperately hoped that she was not involved with either of those two men.
“What do you mean by ‘type’?” she asked, unable to suppress her grin.
Draco had the distinct feeling then that he was being worked. Humph, he thought. She’s playing me.
He leaned back in the chair then, puffing out his chest just a bit, knowing that the soft folds of his sweater were now clinging to his lithe muscular build. He felt slightly stupid doing all of this. Somewhere the part of him that was a responsible parent- an adult- a spy, even- was cringing at his ridiculous flirtations.
Hermione then committed a fatal error. She had let her eyes wonder across his broad shoulders, taking in his well-defined chest. Mmmm, she thought. She noted how the mid-morning sunlight made his white-blond hair seem like it was glowing. What she didn’t realize was that as she had been gazing at him while he pretended to be looking out of the window, she had reached for the sugar dish instead of her coffee cup. She almost had it to her mouth, when she felt his warm hand take her wrist. He chuckled and she looked at his hand holding her own- and then at what was in her hand.
I am in idiot, she thought. And I am officially giving sugar in my coffee! She was blushing so furiously now that she thought she might as well just crawl under the table until Christmas. Draco had stopped laughing, deciding to rescue her from her mortification.
“Maybe we should take our coffee back into the office and finish those last cases,” he suggested. She nodded, clearly relieved. She wanted nothing more than to get away from that blasted sugar dish!
They went back to their respective positions in her office. No sooner had they sat down then Hermione heard the tell-tale rushing noise from her fireplace. This time, Ron’s head popped out of the bright green flames. Hermione turned her attention at once to her friend’s head, not noticing the scowl that that Draco now wore.
“Hermione… er, Malfoy,” said Ron. “Look, Ginny and I have some info for you two. This morning three different day care centers were hit. No injuries, but the magical kids were kind of marked.” He gulped, looking back over his shoulder, seeming to listen to someone else momentarily.
“There were only five kids total who got the mark. Anyway, the kids all said the same thing, that they noticed a hovering broomstick and when they tried to touch it, they were whisked away,” he continued.
“A portkey!” breathed Hermione.
“Yes, it seems that way,” answered Ron. “But the kids were returned almost instantaneously- and unhurt. They all said that they remember a darkened room and a voice saying something like, ‘No, that’s not the one’ or ‘not him’ “ when they returned, they bore a little mark on the palm of their left hands- just a little smudge that won’t come off.”
This time Draco leaned in, asking “Were their memories modified?”
Ron looked at him closely, “No, we tested all the kids for that. I don’t think any of them saw anything damning. And the Death Eaters probably enjoyed leaving the kids feeling terrorized!” He looked back over his shoulder for a long minute.
“I’ve got to go now. Ginny says an orphanage on the other side of town has been hit,” he said. With a slight popping noise, Ron’s head disappeared from the fireplace.
Neither Draco nor Hermione spoke for several minutes. Not fully cognizant of their actions, they had both returned to sit on the couch, side by side.
“He’s looking for someone very specific,” Hermione whispered. Her mind was racing. She suddenly had a very bad feeling in her gut.
“He can’t be,” came a hoarse voice next to her. “He- They- They’re just scaring Muggle-borns- just stirring up trouble,” he continued weakly. Hermione looked over at Draco. His entire body was slumped over, his head in his hands. He seemed to being trembling slightly. She knew he was worried about Louisa. Louisa was not in an orphanage, per se. But she was in a particular kind of home that could possibly come under the scrutiny of the Death Eaters.
She sat silently, continuing to watch him. She desperately wanted to remind him that he’d only just written that Louisa’s house was well-protected and that Dumbledore himself knew where she was. Though Hermione was also worried about the child, she figured that Louisa was probably already the best protected magical child in all of Muggle London. She itched to say something to comfort him but knew that if she did, her secret would be up. Suddenly a foreboding thought entered her mind. Draco was very likely about to go and find Louisa. Hermione’s heart was now threatening to beat out of her chest.
Draco felt nauseous. If the Death Eaters were indeed, as Hermione suggested, searching for a particular child, he knew that Louisa was in danger. There was a very real chance that they were looking for her. He stood, knowing what he had to do. But he stood too quickly for someone feeling nauseous. Before he could act on any other impulse, he ran to the bathroom, struggling to hold onto his breakfast.
Hermione seized the opportunity of his absence. She leaned into the fireplace, throwing in a pinch of Floo Powder.
“Albus Dumbledore,” she said, very clearly.
“Hermione,” came the older wizard’s voice. After another couple of seconds, the head of one Albus Dumbledore appeared in the brilliant green fire.
“I know what this is about,” he said, simply. “Say nothing.” At the moment, Draco walked back in, looking rather green. Hermione stood up and ran into the kitchen.
“Draco, a word, please.”
Draco looked startled at Dumbledore’s request but leaned in to the fireplace just the same.
“Draco, I believe it soon may be time to give her this,” he said, reaching through the fire to hand over a small piece of paper. Draco pocketed the parchment without looking at it.
“I find it is never a good idea to do anything rash, Draco. But it is a good idea to seek support from those who would help you,” he said, nodding in the direction of the kitchen, where Hermione still waited. Draco still hadn’t replied but now nodded at Dumbledore. The old wizard gave him a deep searching look before he disappeared from the fire.
Hermione heard the popping noise and decided to go back into her office. She returned to find a shaking Draco Malfoy. He was looking at the floor. She heard him take a deep breath and then saw him square his shoulders. He looked up at her then, no longer shaking. In fact, he looked so calm that Hermione was even more frightened than she had been just a few minutes before.
There was something oddly familiar about the firmness of his jaw and the gleam in his eye. She shuddered slightly, remembering how he used to look at her back when they were at Hogwarts. He looked a bit like a maniac. She was sure he’d figured out that she knew his secret. She waited for the blow to fall. She expected that he would confront her and then tell her that he was taking Louisa to where no one, especially not her, could find them.
If she had been a little bit calmer, she would have realized that she herself was thinking mad irrational thoughts. But she couldn’t think rationally- she was too afraid that Draco and Louisa were about to disappear from her life. She felt her resolve shattering and Dumbledore’s advice was now forgotten in her desperation.
“Draco,” she said in a raspy voice. “I’m going with you.”