Dinner Served Cold
The next day unleashed chaos at the manor. Cricket was ecstatic about the guests that were coming for dinner later in the day, and the energy had passed onto Pax who was currently running circles around Theo. Draco had scouted some of the spots Granger had listed for him in the morning, and he had come empty handed. Some warehouses, the backs of coffee shops—anywhere that had a strange flare of magic pop up on her map, or any place that operated during strange hours close to the docks.
His eye twitched remembering her practically stumbling down the stairs in his oversized quidditch shirt and shorts in the morning. Theo had said nothing about it during breakfast, and for some reason Draco had been grateful he hadn’t. Enough teasing would send Hermione into the first store she walked into in Beccles to purchase new pyjamas.
He bit into his cheek—they hadn’t spoken of the previous night. He supposed it wasn’t any of his business to bring up again, and Hermione appeared to have slept fine this night. If she wanted to speak to him about occlusion, she could—the last thing Draco wanted was to send her into a spiral that made her occlude in front of him. He shuddered slightly, remembering what it was like in his seventh year to live his day to day living in that blank state while attempting to fix the Vanishing Cabinet.
Draco’s eyes slid back to his report paper that he’d discuss with the team tonight. He had avoided going into any places that were overly crowded with witches and wizards—a tea place downtown, the potions store. It was common knowledge that Draco Malfoy worked with the Aurors now. The rest of the spots were either empty, or had the loitering teenage muggles that wandered the place after high school.
Hermione had spent the day pinning down more locations, and attempting to label names on some local wizards and witches that worked around the docks. As of now, they didn’t suspect Muggles were involved—how stupid would the thieves be to involve them, to be charged with the use of a Confundus charm and potentially allowing them through Portkeys and such.
He set his papers down and began to dress for dinner. He pulled a navy sweater over his collared shirt; he’d need all the warmth he could get if he had to sit through a meeting with the pack of Gryffindors. Draco bit back a sneer as he clasped his robes at his neck. The meeting would go fine.
***
Draco had to use every ounce of control he had in his body to avoid staring at Hermione. The witch had donned a dark collared shirt—a gorgeous black so dark it was borderline switching between blue and purple the longer Draco glanced at it. Her skirt matched the shirt with thick roses that lined the bottom hem, and swished about her ankles. She had forgone the robes entirely as she helped Cricket drag in dinner, and the front of her hair had been pinned back to the sides.
Instead, Draco studied his water glass as she slid into the chair beside him. It appeared that she too seemed slightly tense for this dinner.
The Weasel King sat across from her, and the two of them—along with Harry who kept on getting dragged into conversation with members around the table—seemed to be getting along fairly well.
Draco sat quietly watching as other Aurors that were deployed around Beccles chatted amongst themselves—the group of them sitting at the end of the table.
Weasel’s laughter momentarily took up the table. “And then,” He sputtered. “Hermione had to sit in that stall until the Polyjuice Potion wore off. Merlin, I swear she’d probably still find the cat hair amongst her things now.”
Hermione gave Ron a small smile and turned to look at Draco. “It was unfortunate I didn’t get to see the Slytherin common room that day.”
Draco felt a small surge of pride as he watched Weasel’s smile drop. “I’d assume that you wouldn’t like it so much. It was cold and dreary most of the time if the fires weren’t constantly burning.”
“Say…” Ron frowned. “How exactly did you two meet?”
“We take a Potions Mastery class together Weasel—” Draco coughed as Hermione turned to give him a glare that could cut through metal. “Weasley. She charmed my heart then.”
“She charmed your heart?” He asked suddenly looking repulsed. “How is that even possible?”
“Excuse me?” Hermione scoffed, her eyes rounding.
“No, I didn’t mean—I just meant with Malfoy… how would you even begin talking to him without wanting to torture him for all the things he did to you throughout school?”
Draco felt his stomach fill with lead as Hermione effortlessly said, “That was years ago, Ron. We’re past that now.” She smiled and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “Quite past that, indeed.”
Whatever the Weasel had left to say was silenced with the look that Harry sent Ron’s way.
“Perhaps it's time for dessert.” Hermione said gently. She stood up in her chair to make her way to the kitchens, but Cricket was faster. Caramel pudding materialized in front of them and Hermione tilted her head, sliding back down into her chair. Draco wondered if he was supposed to throw some comfort her way—they hadn’t discussed the fact that they had to genuinely act as a couple during this dinner.
“Harry—” Piped one of the Beccles Aurors. “Are we going to go through any more training in the next few weeks? I imagine that Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy would be handling the potions section, but would we need further defence spells?”
“If we can make time for it, Ben, it would be helpful for everyone to get a refresher.” Harry replied, eating a spoonful of his pudding.
“Can I suggest that we add some civilian training in? Just on how to handle them—we still aren’t sure if the wizards involved are using Confundus charms on the locals.”
Harry nodded. “It’s a good idea. Did we have any luck on the places you two found?” He turned to Hermione and Draco.
Draco shook his head. “There was nothing unusual about the places I visited; certainly nothing being stored there either.”
Ron rubbed his head. “I suppose then we stick to scouting and training until we can get something more solid. Are there any more spells we need to add to the training list?”
“To test for a Confundus, a legilimens would be in order.” Ben piped. “Though I don’t think it’s legal to do to civilians.”
Hermione went rigid beside him.
“We can practice it if you’re comfortable, Ben.” Ron quipped. “But we can’t perform one on a Muggle without a warrant. Hermione’s quite talented at them—she’s been practicing since… what was it ‘Mione? Sixth or seventh year.”
“It would be helpful yes.” Ben nodded.
“I’d like Hermione focused on the potions aspect of this. Perhaps I could help with that part of training, Ben.” Harry replied, his airy tone gone.
Ron snorted. “Your legilimens is garbage compared to 'Mione’s, mate. The three of us went at it for a case a few months back. I only got as far as some lake in ‘Mione’s head until she pulled me out and practically pulled me apart.”
Harry stilled as another Auror turned to Hermione. “Oh, the lake by Hogwarts Hermione?”
“No.” Her voice was almost chilled. “Not the Black Lake.”
“Say…” Ron started. “Malfoy, aren’t you quite talented at Occlusion?”
Draco’s grey eyes peered at him. “And what would talented mean Weasel?” He hadn't meant to let that slip.
Ron’s face turned sour. “Whatever talent you have that Hermione seems to be drawn towards. Merlin knows that it isn't your personality."
"I'm not sure what occlusion has to do with the two of us, Ron." Hermione hissed.
"Think about it—you with your legilimens, him with his occlusion. Oh, is that how the two of you have bonded? Does he use you for occlusion practice?” Ron seemed to have hopped onto the brashness wave that was being thrown at him.
“How dare you—” Hermione seethed, looking almost taken aback by Ron.
“Please, Hermione. Is it because he’s always been second in our classes? Second to you? No one else enough to keep up with your antics?” Ron growled back.
“Upset you can’t keep up Weasel?” Draco shot back. Ron seemed to be turning red.
“Insane fucking woman—the two of you together I suppose makes sense. God if the world knew how far from the Golden Girl you were—a thin line between where you were at the end of the war and where he was.” He jutted a chin at Malfoy. “A fine pair of Death Eaters the two of you.”
What the fuck was he talking about?
“That is enough!” Harry yelled.
“How dare you!” Hermione shouted, now standing. “You left us at the end of the war and you dare sit there and judge-judge—” Her sentence turned into a stammer as her eyes glazed over, occlusion taking full effect. “Coward. You’re a coward.”
“What did he mean by Death Eater?” An Auror beside Ben whispered.
Draco could’ve sworn the temperature in the room dropped by a few degrees.
“It means,” Ron heaved. “Hermione practices what the Dark—”
Whatever he was going to say was interrupted as Hermione pointed her wand at Ron and shouted. “Flipendo!” Ron was knocked backwards out of his chair.
Two Aurors pointed their wand at Hermione shouting. “Expelliarmus!” Hermione growled as her wand was snatched from her.
“Protego!” Draco yelled and a shield went up around the two of them.
Ron let out a laugh, now being dragged back by Harry. “The next Minister of Magic, everyone. She’s—”
“’Mione settle down.” Harry’s voice was grave.
The poor Aurors didn’t see what was coming, but Draco ducked the second he saw how dark her eyes were. Dark magic, indeed.
Hermione stretched out her hands, her hair looking like it was crackling with energy. “Fumos duo.” She whispered. Thick red smoke filled the room, covering both her and Weasel. “Come out, Ron.”
“Hermione!” Harry was yelling.
“Deletrius.” Draco pointed his wand at the smoke, to where Hermione was standing almost seconds ago.
The smoke cleared, but Hermione was gone, and so was Ron.
***
It took a few seconds for everyone to become adjusted to the room as the smoke cleared, but Draco’s eyes were still burning. Harry had his wand out and was spinning around to the various exits of the room; Draco followed him as he ran past the kitchens and out of the main manor doors.
Hermione stood in front of Ron, who was sprawled out on the cobblestones. Draco could hear the two of them swearing viciously enough that the portraits inside would probably flee their frames if they heard. Harry smartly inserted himself between the two of them and grabbed Ron’s arm, once again hauling him up.
“Should’ve put you into Azkaban.” Ron was muttering.
Hermione walked close enough to Ron that she was touching shoulders with Harry. “You pull anything like that again, Ron, and I promise I’ll do something that will land me there.”
Hermione turned to face Draco with rage written across her face, and Disapparated, leaving him with the Weasel King and Scarhead.