IX
Hermione woke the following day and set about completing her normal routine. She brushed her hair and teeth, washed her face, and grabbed an apple before heading out the door. She found the habit of eating an apple for breakfast a hard one to break. It’d been going on for years. She bit the apple as she rode the Tube through Muggle London. Her eyes closed at the memory.
Hermione didn’t remember emerging from her Floo that morning. She didn’t remember stepping into the lift. Muggles referred to the sensation as auto-pilot. She’d been doing it more and more recently. She’d step out of her daze once she reached her destination with no real memory of how she arrived there. She was buried with thoughts of work. She chewed absently on her thumbnail while her brain categorized various charms and counter charms.
“Granger!”
She was jolted back to the present. Malfoy was standing in front of her with his large hands wrapped around her biceps. She flinched in response.
“Do you always Occlude yourself into a stupor first thing in the morning?”
She shook her head as if that could clear away the overcrowded contents of her brain.
“I wasn’t Occluding,” she said. “Sorry. I was distracted with work things.”
He eyed her suspiciously. Malfoy was known through the Department as the strongest Auror in Legilimency. If he wanted to sift through her brain, it would have been an easy sort. She’d let her Occlumency lessons fall to the wayside as her to-do list piled higher.
He held out his hand to her and offered a green apple.
“At least bite something nutritious. Give your nailbeds a rest.”
She dropped her hands to her sides and tried not to show her embarrassment over being called out on her less-than-proper habit.
“I’m fine.”
He gave her a pointed look and forced the apple closer.
“Eat something. You’re skin and bones.”
She didn’t move. He sighed and forced the apple into her hand. Hermione brought it close to her face and inspected it.
“How do I know it doesn’t contain some childish jinx?”
He rolled his eyes and stepped forward. She admired the way his robes fit his wider figure. He’d built up solid walls of muscle across his arms, torso, back, and legs. It made his tall presence even more intimidating, especially when he looked down at her with steel gray eyes and dark lashes.
He leaned over her and brought his mouth down around the apple in her hand. He closed his lips around the shiny peel and sank his teeth easily into the flesh. His eyes remained locked with hers the entire time. The juices ran down his chin and over her hand, as he pulled away and chewed. She tried to swallow but couldn’t seem to remember how. She watched in awe as his chiseled jaw flexed with each bite.
He engulfed her smaller hand in his as he gently brought the apple to her own lips. She opened her mouth obediently and took a bite.
“Good girl,” he said.
Her stomach clenched at the response, and she tried to ignore the erratic pace her pulse had taken.
The lift stopped, and he got off without another word. But each morning after that, she found a bright green apple waiting on her desk for her.
***
The club was more than crowded that night. The patrons were sandwiched together by the bar, the young witches vying for Blaise’s easy smiles and attention as he made them giggle with his parlor tricks. Hermione sat in her same seat on the second floor.
Pansy was preoccupied below and hadn’t had a chance to make it upstairs yet. She’d been there almost thirty minutes, and her knee bounced anxiously.
She caught sight of Pansy’s black bob. She was arguing with a blonde male. Malfoy. Pansy rolled her eyes over something Malfoy said to her and tried to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm. He didn’t look angry, though. He looked worried.
Pansy dragged him to the side of the bar where fewer people were and made him sit on one of the bar stools. She stood right in front of him and kept both hands on his cheeks while she sternly spoke to him. Pansy was a small witch who looked even smaller before Malfoy’s hulking form.
But there wasn’t a more intimidating witch Hermione could name. Pansy was fearless. Hermione had never met someone so fiercely protective and strong. As kids, she remembered feeling so intimidated by Pansy. She was abrasive and confrontational. But in the end, Pansy protected those she loved. Hermione cared for her Gryffindor comrades like Pansy had done for the Slytherin ones. They were two sides of the same coin. However, somehow the roles had changed. Under Hermione’s new guise, she found herself tucked neatly within Pansy’s protective wing.
Malfoy’s conversation ended with Pansy, and Hermione lost sight of him as he exited the club. Pansy joined Hermione and slid a dirty martini before her. Hermione’s hand trembled as she reached for it. She’d barely recovered from the last one. It was taking longer each time to bounce back. Perhaps she should see Nott again for stronger droughts.
She tipped the cool liquid back and swallowed in one gulp. The olive collapsed easily against her teeth while she waited for Pansy’s voice to fill her head.
Too much to say. Come back tonight after closing. I’ll send Blaise home.
***
She loitered in the same place Pansy had found her over a year ago, near the dumpsters at the back of the building.
“They’re gone,” Pansy said as she opened the door.
Hermione made her way inside. It looked different without the patrons inside and the lights on. Pansy motioned to the bar, where Hermione took a seat. Pansy drew out her wand and flitted it across the space.
She put the wand on the bar and poured a shot of firewhisky for herself. She offered Hermione one, but she declined.
“What were you arguing with Malfoy about?”
“He’s had seven death eaters die in the last six months. He’s scared out of his mind.”
“What did you tell him?”
Hermione didn’t want to have to kill Malfoy. His was the name she’d been dreading this whole time.
“I just told him that he didn’t need to worry. He needed to keep his nose down and stick to the cases he was assigned to.”
“You said the ministry has a firm grasp on Draco,” Hermione said.
“Draco understands the fragility of his position in the ministry. He’s serving his time. But he’s getting restless. It’s been nearly four years, and there’s no tangible end in sight. It’s getting harder to convince him to stay the course.”
“But if he tries to leave-”
“I know damn well what will happen if he tries to leave. His Legilimens is indispensable.”
Hermione’s stomach churned. He was as much a prisoner to the ministry as he was to Voldemort.
“Gibbon is the next one,” Pansy said tightly. “He hasn’t shown up for work in three days.”
Hermione nodded her head. Pansy reached across the bar and gripped Hermione’s hand tightly.
“You were gone nearly a month last time. We can find another way.”
“No,” Hermione said and withdrew her hand. “I’ve let too many slip by as it is. I can’t risk more.”
“You’re a damn stubborn witch.”
Hermione gave her a look.
“Takes one to know one,” she said, and Pansy laughed.
“My golden Slytherin,” Pansy joked.
Hermione smiled and brought her hand to her necklace. It’d been Pansy’s design. The golden serpent twisted around the back of her neck. No one would know it was a snake unless they saw the back. To anyone else, it looked like a golden choker. But Pansy swore that Hermione was missorted her first year. It was the inspiration for it all.