Draco Malfoy (muddied) wrote in afic, @ 2011-01-30 14:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: draco malfoy, character: hermione granger, player: deb, x player: joan |
Who: Draco and Hermione
When: 30 January, after the DA meeting
Where: the Forbidden Forest, then a pub
What: drinks, because oh are they ever necessary by now
Rating: TBD
Status: started in gdocs, continuing here
The polyjuice potions hadn’t kept Draco from peering at the others at the meeting, spending much of it trying to guess who each person was by voice and speech patterns. He suspected that those who listened closely, or who knew him (Ernie or Mandy, if they were there) might well have identified him by speech alone. But he wasn’t certain of any identity by the time it was done.
He lingered on the edge, stewing over the situation. He knew that the potion would wear off soon, and he ought to go home long before it did. While he had the acceptance of some here, there were others that wouldn’t appreciate his presence. A sour look pursed his lips at that, irritated by the idea.
A quiet Are you okay? drew his attention, and he turned to see Hermione (who of course, he realized, knew exactly who he was, potion or not) standing there. Both eyebrows arched, and one shoulder shrugged. No, but he wouldn’t say that, instead stating simply, “I need a drink before I brave the townhouse.”
Hermine stood there, her polyjuice starting to wear off at once. Not that it mattered, everyone had known who she was. The blond hair of a plump, pink cheeked, accounting exec had slowly begun to merge into brown locks and a slimmer face. Her robes were starting to looser on her body, and it would be mere minutes before she was back to being Hermione Granger.
“Are you okay?” she asked, gently touching Draco’s shoulder as she bit her lower lip. She knew it was him, she’d been very care to note which of her coworkers he would turn into. Hermione had known them all, but it had been hard not to take an extra step with the blond reformer; not when they’d so recently had to deal with horrors and pain once more. “I think that I could use a drink as well. Do you mind if I join you?” she asked, fully ready to be pushy if needed.
One eyebrow arched just a bit further than the other, as his mouth twisted up into half a smirk. “Seeking my company on purpose, trésor?” There was enough of a pause to leave his dry amusement hanging there in the air between them before he shrugged again, “You can join me, but I cannot promise I will be anything of good company.” In fact, he suspected he would be making good use of a hangover potion before he slept that night, in order to ensure that he was up early to go to Paris for Alyssa. “Hogsmeade?” he suggested, offering an arm. “Or London?” Left unsaid was that London would be more anonymous, a Muggle pub perhaps, where no one would recognize Britain’s tarnished treasure and Draco Malfoy drinking in each other’s company.
“Have you ever been very good company?” Hermione asked, attempting a wry little smile. It was mostly for Draco’s benefit, even if she wanted to tell him to knock it off with the ‘trésor’ nonsense. But secretly, she liked it. She’d never been given a nickname like that before, not unless you counted ‘know it all’ or ‘mudblood’. Somehow, being called ‘treasure’ was so much nicer. Hermione took his arm, threading her increasingly slimming one through his. “Hogsmeade. The Boar’s Head is likely to be empty, and I know the owner won’t call the Ministry to claim that we’re conspiring,” she said, gently leading Draco. They were close enough to the edge of the village that they would not meet any centaurs or the bigger creatures of the woods, but Hermione still had her wand at the ready.
“I believe we’ve had enough conspiracy for the evening.” Draco glanced sideways at her as they walked. “Although I’ve one thing to discuss with you if you don’t mind a last bit of business.” He hadn’t wanted to mention his offer to Potter in front of everyone. But he knew Hermione needed the data as much as he did. “Preferably before we reach the pub. And no, it’s not about my inability to infiltrate the Ministry.” Unfortunately, his way in, however small it would have been, was gone. His jaw tightened at the thought.
“Alright,” Hermione said with a raised brow, allowing him to lead the way as they began to skirt the edge of the town. It was late enough at night that there was really no way to go out into the open without risk being spotted, and so moving behind buildings was really the right way to go at that point. “I’m sorry... about your loss, that women at the cafe,” Hermione said, trying to sound as gentle as possible. “She was important to you, wasn’t she?”
His jaw tightened one step further, and he bit back the sharp remark that of course she was important, wasn’t that obvious from the number of places she had wormed her way into his financial life? “Oui,” he said tightly. “She was a close friend, a co-author, and the mother of my child.” Important hardly began to cover it, something Draco had come to realize over the nearly two weeks since Amelia’s death. But speaking of it did not make it easier, either, nor did remembering the fact that Hermione had been there, and that her presence had somehow become a part of the memory. His eyes closed briefly, shutting everything out.
When they opened again, the mask was in place as he glanced at her. “If you intend to keep Potter in place at the Ministry, he needs to make them believe he is their lapdog. Otherwise they will continue to test him until he breaks, and he will be of no use to anyone. I’ve offered to attempt to teach him Occlumency, and while I’ve hardly the skill at Legilemency that my instructors claimed, I should hopefully be able to teach him some rudimentary blocks to parcel things in his mind.” He doubted Potter could learn what Draco himself had learned, to neatly box things up and stick them away so that life could move forward. But if he could make him functional it would be an improvement.
Hermione was silent as the other man spoke, letting it all come out before she responded. “I’m sorry Draco, I really am,” she said. She wanted to ask if Amelia had been Draco’s girlfriend as well, but that seemed too close to prying for anyone’s good. Hermione was keenly aware that she was more attracted to Draco than hateful of him. He had always been handsome, but now he had the advantage of being a good person. But he wasn’t Ron, and he had just lost someone he had once loved- and might still love. The idea of a relationship with the man was poppycock, and Hermione wouldn’t even venture into one right then. Even with Ron. It was too dangerous. too... foolish.
“Harry has... a mental block with Occlumency, at least I believe he does. But you’re right, he’s more good to us if the Ministry thinks he’s a loyal pawn. Perhaps I should move out of our apartment, make it seem that we had a spat,” she mused aloud.
“Can you afford a place of your own?” Draco felt compelled to point out the practical side. “That aside, it couldn’t hurt. Better yet, make it look as if he threw you out, horrified by your behaviour as an ST. He needs to appear the righteous knife of the Ministry, and set aside any appearance of upset over what he has done. He accepted the lessons.” Which had, quite frankly, surprised Draco. “He needs to tell me when and where, since we obviously cannot meet publicly.” His smile was tight. “I assure you, speaking from experience, Occlumency is a solution to help him keep up the mask until he can let it break when he is alone.”