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Ring A Ring O' Roses	By : Gallivant Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 16636 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
A mystifying meeting with a morbid Muggle who has a chilling theory into what causes 'Dark Flux' deaths…

13. Henrik's Hunch

Despite the fraught circumstances, Draco still managed to look a little sheepish at his disheveled state, dressed in his makeshift 'bed sheet' toga. Dolores and Paco had woken at the commotion and within minutes both Draco and Hermione were dressed and ready to leave.

Hermione was grateful to both Dolores and Draco for not accusing her of melodramatic paranoia, once she voiced her suspicions that Los Rojos were in fact Animagi. She wondered if the 'Crows' had been watching Draco and herself in Buenos Aires, or even earlier in England, waiting to see if they would come to Patagonia.

Dolores quickly sent an owl to a neighbour of hers – a man she vowed could be trusted – who would help them escape Santa Maria. Moments later, the owl had returned.

Draco then used this owl to send a message to Senor Canaro in Buenos Aires, telling him to expect another visit tomorrow - that was, Wednesday – morning.

'Don't give too much away,' Hermione warned, 'we want to catch him off-guard. And tell him we'll arrive early.'

'Not too early,' Draco remonstrated, 'it all depends on what time we get back to Buenos Aires today.'

'I want to be back in England tomorrow morning, Malfoy,' Hermione said. 'I plan to take a Portkey.'

'But I might still need you here,' Draco said, grabbing hold of Dolores's owl a little too roughly as it tried to squirm free from his grasp while he affixed the note to its leg. The owl pecked at Draco's hand in retaliation. Draco raised his hand, as though tempted to swipe the owl to the floor, but thought better of it.

'As far as I'm concerned,' Draco continued, flushed pink with temper, 'you're Ron's replacement. He would stay if the job needed it.'

'Well, I'm not at your beck and call, Malfoy!'

Draco twisted his mouth into a dismissive sneer. 'Oh, go on, then, little girl. Run along home!'

'I have to. I have –’ Hermione slunk a sidelong glance at Dolores who was rocking Paco in her arms, and then dipped her voice, 'I have a Tribunal Hearing at the Ministry on Thursday morning. I need to prepare myself.'

'Of course! I'd forgotten about that,' Draco said, breaking into a surprisingly sunny smile.

Damn him! Hermione thought. So he had known at 'Le Bonheur' that night. She'd suspected as much.

'Who told you about it? I'd rather know who's broadcasting my personal affairs to all and sundry!'

Draco burst into loud cackling laughter. 'YOU told me, Hermione. You were pissed out of your brains at the time, so you might be a little hazy on the details.'

He patted Dolores's owl on the head in a much friendlier manner than before and finally managed to securely fasten the note to Senor Canaro.

'That's – that's impossible!' Hermione blustered, although the ghastly recollection of her drunken blurtings was slowly eking back into her consciousness.

Draco winked. 'Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me. I can even give you a trial run-through, if you like.'

Hermione was about to point out that, considering she was a lawyer that hardly seemed necessary, when a small, beige Muggle car stopped outside the front door.

Dolores quickly surveyed the street for any sign of danger.

'Your ride,' Dolores announced, gesturing towards the small, beige car. 'They're Muggles. Own a garage outside town. Very friendly, but no English.'

XXX

Hermione and Draco found themselves squeezed into the back of a tiny, beige two-door Mini Clubman with a chocolate-coloured roof. Despite her immense discomfort and nervousness at being squashed so tightly against Draco, Hermione couldn't help giggling.

Their space was further encroached upon, forcing their knees almost into their chest, when Jorge and Raul, their rather portly driver and fellow passenger, occupied the front seats, levering them back to their furthest position to accommodate their hefty bulks.

'Buenos Dias,' bellowed Jorge the driver, flashing them a cheesy, gap-toothed grin. 'Es dos horas!' he added in a loud, nasal voice, holding up two fat fingers and nodding inanely as though he was trying to explain an extremely tricky concept to small children.

'That's two hours,' Draco muttered.

'Yes, yes, I think I got that,' Hermione said, smiling and nodding to Jorge in return.

'Vamos a Los Notros,' Jorge said, nodding dumbly again, as though somehow this would make him easier to understand.

'Aren't we meant to be going somewhere else?' Hermione asked Draco, a little alarmed.

'Perito Moreno.'

'That's not what he said.'

Draco shrugged. 'I'm sure Dolores has explained it all.'

It was too late, anyway. Jorge had already sped away from Dolores's house and was now hurtling along a long, lonely road at breakneck speed, leaving Santa Maria far behind them.

'Look!' Draco said, pointing to a large brown bird flying high in the vivid blue sky, just beyond the perimeter of the town. 'I think that's Dolores's owl.'

'Well, I guess you did get a particularly good look at the poor thing, seeing as you were about to hit it,' Hermione seethed.

Draco opened his mouth as though planning a particularly pithy retort - but, instead, his face darkened. He was still watching the owl through his window, which was positioned on the left side of the car behind the driver. Once the owl had swung out of view, he swiftly twisted his tall frame around in the seat, his knees smashing into Hermione, half crushing her beneath him.

'I hope there's a good reason for this,' Hermione gasped, almost suffocated by his weight.

Draco was intent on craning his head to look out of the small, pillar-box back window.

'Hermione,' he said, jabbing his index finger skywards. 'Are those birds following our owl?'

He gestured towards a trio of large black birds, ominously resembling over-sized crows, who appeared to be following the owl's progress at a rapid rate.

'I hope not,' Hermione said disconsolately, wriggling round so that she too was facing the back of the car, Draco's warm body pressed against her.

They watched in gloomy silence as Dolores's owl circled higher and higher before disappearing from view, the crows close behind.

'When it comes to raw speed, I'm pretty sure an owl can outstrip a crow,' Draco said confidently.

'And how exactly would you know that?' Hermione sighed, casting him a bemused sidelong glance. Somehow she doubted Draco had a secret fondness for ornithology.

She then desperately tried to squirm her body as far away from Draco as she could possibly manage, to gain a fraction more personal space.

Really, it was wholly inappropriate to be draped over each other like this. Ron would go mad if he could see them.

'Still,' she said, panting a little with the effort, 'we've learned one interesting new fact this morning.'

'What's that then?' Draco said, shuffling back into a forward-facing position.

'Muggles can use owls.'

Draco glanced at Jorge then back to Hermione. 'I still can't see them taking off in the business world, can you?'

They lapsed into silence, vaguely staring out of the window at what appeared to be scrubby wasteland and gravely hillocks bordering a sapphire blue lake. Their route was uneven and bumpy, and from time to time, they were tossed towards each other by deep potholes in the road.

'My Uncle Derek had a car just like this when I was a kid,' Hermione chuckled, 'this must be over thirty years old.'

'Let's hope it stays in one piece, then,' Draco grunted as the Mini surged over a particularly high rut, bouncing his head hard into the ceiling. 'What strange names you Muggles have…' he sneered. 'I mean, really… Derek, what kind of name is that?'

'Says the man whose grandfather was called Abraxas! What kind of name is that?' Hermione retorted.

Draco's face instantly clouded over, almost as though someone had reached inside of him and switched off the light. Hermione couldn't tell if he was angry or upset, and he didn't give her a chance to find out, immediately averting his head from her gaze to stare aimlessly out of his window.

XXX

At some point during the journey, they must have fallen asleep together. When Hermione woke up, she found she was sprawled against Draco, her legs intertwined with his long, sinewy limbs which were extended deep into her side of the car. Her head was resting against his chest, her face nuzzling his throat.

As consciousness gradually kicked in, she became painfully aware of the heavy heat of his arm holding her tightly against him, and a pleasant sensation on the right side of her neck where his large, warm hand was resting.

His thumb was gently tracing small circles on the soft skin just below her hairline.

It was the tiniest of actions - hardly an action at all, really… but still, every nerve in her body suddenly seemed to have centred on that small patch of exposed skin being fondled by his thumb.

It felt nice. Really, really nice, she thought, her throat suddenly dry and her breathing hitched in her chest.

His thumb continued to circle, to stroke, occasionally pausing, then re-starting, each time feeling more sensitive than before, to the point where Hermione felt almost sick with a sudden, surprising surge of mind-reeling arousal which swept through her.

She had to move … except his long, slim fingers were lightly brushing her neck, caressing her ear, tracing its shape with the most delicate of touches. It felt exquisite… so heart-stoppingly wonderful that she had to stifle a moan of pleasure.

She gently eased her face away from his throat and slid her right hand, which was resting close to the site of his wound, across his chest, keenly aware that his nipple pebbled in response to her feather-light touch.

He grumbled, his hand dropping from her neck to sweep her closer into his arms so that his face was now hovering above her own, his breath curling onto her cheeks like a warm zephyr, so close she could almost taste him.

This was wrong - very, very wrong, she thought, fighting an urge to explode into loud pants, almost like she had been holding her breath underwater for far too long and her lungs were aching for oxygen.

She buried her face into his neck, easing her breath out in a long, drawn-out shudder against his skin.

She now noticed his heart was clattering forcefully in his chest. There was a discernible tensing in his limbs and the slow, deliberate slide of the Adam's apple in his throat as he gulped.

Oh God. He's awake, she thought. And, like her too, he seemed to be holding his breath, easing it out in short, stuttering bursts.

She had to stop this now, had to untangle herself from this intimacy.

She made a great show of slow stretching and groaning, pretending to be in the throes of stirring into wakefulness. Then, bit by bit, she rolled her head away from its comfortable nook curled against his warm skin.

She gradually blinked her eyes open and braved a glance sideways, instantly locking her gaze with Draco, whose clear, grey eyes were staring straight at her.

Hermione immediately pulled her eyes away from his, fixing her gaze out of her window instead, her cheeks a-flame with hot embarrassment.

His arm promptly fell away from her shoulder, although he didn't retrieve it entirely, perching it across the back of their seat.

They were now traversing at a rapid rate along a country road which seemed to be getting even bumpier and more rugged by the minute. To her right was a rocky incline and the occasional glimpse of a landscape resembling green and gorsy moorland beyond, bathed in bright sunlight.

She chanced a look to the left, relieved that Draco was also focusing his attention on the scenery beyond his own window.

She caught her breath, mesmerised by the beauty of the landscape. Vast plains covered in a vibrant scarlet flower stretched out before her; a rich, rosy red as far as the eye could see, like fields of blood shimmering in the summer sun. And, behind the fields, the gleaming snake of a wide river, pale and shiny in the fierce white sunlight, was writhing through the countryside.

Draco turned to her, his eyes sparkling. 'Fucking mind-blowing, isn't it?' he grinned.

XXX

Los Notros turned out to be a wooden chalet-style hotel built at the edge of a lake hosting the famous Perito Moreno glacier. It was also the place where Henrik Thyssen, according to the hotel receptionist, had been staying. In fact, he was just finishing a 'trekking' trip on the glacier itself and could be caught if Hermione and Draco hurried.

Hermione had never seen anything as amazing in her life as this monumental expanse of blue-white glacier ice. It reared out of a milky blue lake, jagged and rutted, like a giant dragon's teeth frozen into a fierce grimace, roaring and creaking as huge chunks of ice broke away from the glacier and tumbled into the water below.

A troupe of hardy-looking trekkers, decked out in multi-coloured waterproofs, sporting goggle-style sunglasses which gleamed in the searing white sunshine, was fast approaching the immense, crenulated edge of the Perito Moreno. They boarded a zodiac and came ashore.

A hotel employee helpfully pointed out Henrik Thyssen. He was tall and robustly-built, probably in his mid- to late-twenties, with a lobster-tanned face framed by leonine blonde hair and a self-assured swagger.

'Do you want to do the talking or shall I?' Draco mumbled. They followed Thyssen at a reasonable non-suspicious distance as he ambled towards the comfortable-looking bar at Los Notros with his fellow trekkers.

'But what do we say?' Hermione said, guiltily conscious that they probably should have discussed this already, but since getting 'cuddly' in the car, conversation between them had been a little stilted.

'We mustn't forget he's a Muggle,' Hermione warned, 'so we can't reveal too much about ourselves, or even Dark Flux…'

'I wouldn't dream of it,' Draco scoffed.

Thyssen bought a beer at the bar and then sat outside the hotel on a terrace facing the glacier. He was conveniently alone.

Hermione summoned a waiter to order drinks and was about to ask Draco what he wanted when, to her surprise, she noticed he'd already grabbed a seat next to Thyssen and was introducing himself.

'I was just telling Mr Thyssen here that he was recommended to us by Jonas Arbuthnot,' Draco said chirpily.

Hermione flashed a genial smile at the Dane, who was looking a little baffled by this sudden hijacking. 'Nice man,' Hermione said simply, feeling a pang of sadness as she spoke.

The waiter brought them their drinks - a beer for Draco while Hermione opted for a gin and tonic.

'So you came here on account of these mysterious deaths in Santa Maria?' Henrik said warily.

'That's right,' Draco said. 'For research.'

Thyssen pondered this a moment, silently sipping his beer.

'Kind of odd, don't you think, that there's no media covering this? You sure you're not press?'

Draco vehemently shook his head. 'Absolutely. We're just looking for answers.'

'Join the club,' Thyssen grumbled. 'I've been following sudden mass deaths like this for the last five years for a book I'm writing, and I'm still no closer to really understanding what the hell is going on. What university did you say you're from again, Professor Malfoy?'

'Oxford,' Draco said, after a split second's hesitation.

Henrik nodded sagely. 'I've got an old pal there. Anthropology. Fellow at Oriel, or it could be Merton…'

'My work is almost entirely in the field,' Draco cut in, 'isn't it, Mrs Weasley?' he said turning to Hermione who was quickly scrabbling to process the ramifications of his chosen cover story, and a little taken aback by Draco's stiff formality, which made her feel like little more than his frumpy assistant.

'Call me Hermione,' she said to Henrik, with a warm, syrupy smile.

Henrik's eyes flicked between them curiously.

'Look, I should warn you,' Henrik Thyssen said, 'I actually have to take the next bus out of here, which is leaving in about twenty minutes. There's been a coup in Gabon. Big story. But we can talk until then.'

Hermione couldn't even picture in her mind's eye where Gabon was, relative to this particular spot. A very long way, that was for sure. But then, everywhere felt far away from this place at the end of the world.

'Sounds great,' she said.

She settled herself on a wooden lounger, next to Henrik Thyssen's chair. She was facing away from the hotel towards the small shingle cove which abutted the lake, cordoned off in the bay by the glacier's imposing wall of ice, which seemed to stretch back as far as the eye could see, framed by snowbound mountains.

It was a surreal sight, most particularly as the warm sun on her face, and the addition of a small paper umbrella in her glass of gin and tonic made her feel that she should be gazing out to sea instead.

'How did you know about these deaths in the first place?' Hermione asked, smiling sweetly.

Henrik grinned in response, his azure blue eyes twinkling. 'Now, I'm sure you know a journalist can never reveal his sources, Mrs…. Sorry, Hermione.'

'Of course, Mr Thyssen, I respect that. It's just that it wasn't covered on the news.'

'First up, call me Henrik. Second, how did you find out?'

Hermione instantly looked to Draco.

'A colleague,' he said with a non-committal shrug. 'It seemed mighty suspicious after the recent incident in Bolivia.'

'But what happened here is nothing like what happened there, I can assure you,' Henrik sighed sadly, pulling an album of photos from his knapsack which he passed to Draco. 'You can take a look, if you like,' he said, passing the album to Draco.

Draco started to thumb through page after page of photos depicting livid, gory images of corpses in various states of decomposition – most situated where they had been discovered, rather than a clinical slab in a morgue. Judging by the trance-like horror on Draco's face, he was finding this a particularly gruesome task.

'That was a tribal village located in tropical rainforest … nothing like Patagonia,' Henrik said. 'An industrial mining conglomerate polluted their water supply.'

'Did you get to take any photos in Santa Maria?' Hermione asked, pointing towards the impressive-looking camera poking out of a knapsack Henrik had placed between his chair and Hermione's lounger.

He shook his head. 'The townsfolk complained. And, for some weird reason, my camera just stopped working… the trip was a disaster.'

He took a long swig of his beer, which frothed onto the thick blond stubble above his upper lip.

'The thing is, most sudden mass death incidents are more like what happened in Bolivia… you know, something industrial. And then there's the few intriguing cases – like here in Santa Maria – with no obvious explanation.'

'There has to be some kind of common ground between these cases, surely?' Hermione asked quizzically.

Henrik fixed a steely gaze on Hermione. 'None at all. Except for the fact that the bodies turn bright blue, of course… which I believe was what happened here in Santa Maria, too.'

Hermione could feel her heart beating a little faster.

'That's right, they did,' she said tentatively. 'One girl also had strange purple markings.'

'You got to see the bodies? Oh man!' Henrik exclaimed, wide-eyed with wonder. 'Did you take any photos?'

Draco vehemently shook his head.

'It wasn't much fun,' Hermione grimaced. 'Have you any idea at all what's causing these deaths?'

'If I knew that, I'd have my book published by now,' Henrik guffawed. 'But I'm at a bit of …' he seemed to be searching for the appropriate word, '… an impasse.' He suddenly sobered. 'Actually, I do have a theory… more of a hunch, really…'

'What's that?' Hermione asked eagerly.

'I've come to the conclusion that there's a serial killer on the loose.'

'A serial killer?' Draco repeated, snapping shut the photo album he was holding. 'Are you serious?'

'Absolutely, Professor Malfoy… I'm convinced there's a malevolent force at work, linking what appear to be random events in random places. Worryingly, the number of unexplained sudden mass deaths is accelerating rapidly.'

'We believe this is a naturally occurring phenomenon,' Draco said, sucking his bottom lip thoughtfully. 'Perhaps a kind of mysterious dust?'

'You have scientific data to prove this?' Henrik asked.

'Nothing concrete.'

'Hmmm… the only time I ever heard of any unusual dust was last year in The Ukraine, when dust-clouds swept through a small country town. Four folks died in mysterious circumstances almost identical to here in Patagonia,' Henrik said, a pensive expression on his face. 'Probably a coincidence.'

A white mini-bus with the Los Notros logo slapped onto its side had pulled up in the car park alongside the hotel. Henrik drained his beer.

'You staying here?'

Draco jumped upwards. 'No. We need to get back to El Calafate.' Dolores had told them about a Public Magical Transportation Office, complete with a Floo network, close to the airport.

'Well, hitch a lift, and we can continue talking. I'm getting the next flight out to Buenos Aires,' Henrik explained, zipping his belongings into his knapsack. 'You flying, too?'

'Actually no… no, we've got some unfinished business to attend to.'

XXX

They were the only passengers on the mini-bus to El Calafate, which was as well, because Henrik was gleefully brandishing some photos of the Ukrainian 'blue-bodied' corpses he had managed to track down.

One photo in particular caught Hermione's attention – it was of a young woman, about Ana's age, similarly blue with purple markings.

'These are the welts I was talking about earlier,' she said to Henrik, pointing at this particular photo.

He examined it, his tanned face creased into a deep frown.

'I've only seen this a couple more times,' he said softly. He rooted into his knapsack pulling out his mobile phone, then flipped through some photos he had stored on there. 'There's this one and… here.'

Two similarly marked victims, both women. Hermione hazarded a guess that one was a rural worker of some kind, likely from somewhere in Asia, whereas the other looked like a smartly dressed businesswoman.

'The first shot was taken in Vietnam. There were two incidents at separate sites last year.'

'Two in the same year? That's terrible,' Hermione said, aghast.

Henrik sighed. 'Thirteen dead, in all.'

'And this lady?' Draco said, pointing at the photo of the businesswoman.

'Paris. 2008. My first real investigation. Caused quite a stir, because it was in the West. Got blamed on a gas leak, if I remember rightly. The autopsies showed no sign of infection or poison.'

'So when it comes to mystery cases, we're definitely talking The Ukraine, twice in Vietnam – all last year - Paris in 2008, and now here in Argentina,' Hermione said. 'What about Ecuador?' she added, remembering Canaro's assertion that Los Rojos had been active there, too.

Henrik shook his head dubiously. 'There were rumours last year of suspicious deaths in New Zealand, which I still need to verify, and a very serious attack in Egypt earlier this year, which wiped out half a village…'

'How dreadful!' Hermione cried.

'And I'm pretty sure there's been other intermittent cases over the years that I haven't had the time or resources to check out,' Henrik said.

'We know for sure of one historical precedent; a town in Russia, called Zametsky,' Draco asserted. 'There were multiple sudden, unexplained deaths recorded at the start of the last century.'

'Zametsky?' Henrik yelped. 'That's now in The Ukraine. That's where I was investigating last year!'

Draco looked a little stunned to hear this. 'Really? I'm amazed we haven't heard about it.'

'That's almost too much of a coincidence, surely?' Hermione added.

They were now passing a sign for Santa Maria.

The journey to El Calafate had passed much more quickly in this corporate mini-bus than when they had been snugly cocooned in the Mini Clubman, heaving its way through rutted terrain like a small boat on a stormy sea. The trip this morning now felt like a voyage through another time, another world.

She thought back to the dust-cloud Henrik had mentioned in Zametsky. Was there a connection? Santa Maria was such a wind-swept, barren sort of place. And, thinking about it, Jonas had referred to the strong winds. And Dolores too had said how Paco was crying on the day Ana died because of the winds whistling around her house.

Would the locals even notice a dust-cloud in that place? she wondered.

But Paris? That was a different story altogether. A dust-cloud leaving corpses in its wake would attract considerable media attention.

'Henrik,' Draco said abruptly, 'in the course of your travels, have you met anyone who's actually witnessed someone dying from this sickness?'

'Whenever I visit a site, I try to interview almost everyone who has discovered a victim. I have transcripts,' Henrik replied. Hermione made a mental note to check these out if she ever got the opportunity. 'But you know what? I don't think anyone has ever told me how somebody actually dies. They always seem to find the body once it's dead.'

'You mean, they always die alone,' Hermione said glumly.

'And suddenly,' Draco said.

For a brief moment, they locked eyes. There was a haunted expression on Draco's face that bothered her greatly.

He quickly looked away towards the vast open spaces which bordered the roadside instead.

XXX

At the airport, they retrieved the metal attaché case containing the scanner. Henrik flipped it open with consummate ease, pulling out what looked like a chunky, polycarbonate gun festooned with an array of brightly coloured buttons which he turned over, again and again, in his hands, a puzzled half-smile on his face.

'So Professor Malfoy, you say this can detect the dirty dust you've heard might be causing this fatal sickness?' he asked, seemingly incredulous. He looked Draco in the eye. 'Have you tried this yourself? I don't see how this works.'

Draco avoided eye contact, looking distractedly about the airport as though seeking out someone or something. 'My research students have tried it out at several locations.'

'Have they had any success?' Henrik said fiddling with the controls and looking a little nonplussed when a tiny red light suddenly ignited then disappeared. 'Woah! Was that saying there was this dirty dust, here, at this airport?'

Hermione instantly chilled. The airport was jammed with travellers.

'Sorry guys, it's definitely me causing this light to flash… see?' Henrik chortled. The red light was flickering on and off, primarily triggered, it seemed, by Henrik's index finger pressing a small, knobbly grey button positioned at the top of the gun.

'Look, you're nice people, so I'll be straight with you,' Henrik said. 'I'm not buying into this dirty dust theory; I still think we've got a serial killer out there. But, in the spirit of intellectual enquiry, I'd be interested to come along on an expedition with you, see how this scanner-thing really works. And maybe you can change my mind?' Henrik said, wielding the scanner in an ungainly fashion that Hermione feared might attract unwanted attention. She scanned their immediate vicinity for security personnel.

'Just put that thing away, will you?' she hissed.

Henrik instantly locked the gun back into its case and handed it to Draco.

'So which one of you should I contact first if I hear of more suspicious deaths?' he said, his eyes shining with amusement. He turned to Draco. 'I guess you'll be far too busy working in the field to be contacted easily, Professor Malfoy.' He grinned at Hermione. 'Maybe it would be better if Hermione here could furnish me with her contact details instead?'

Draco was stony-faced, a grim set to his mouth. 'I can jot down her mobile telephone number for you. How's that?'

Henrik passed him a card and a pen and, sure enough, to Hermione's surprise, Draco did write down a number and her name in capitals – MRS WEASLEY – and passed it back to the grinning Dane.

Henrik slipped it into his wallet with what Hermione feared was half a wink in her direction. If he'd already guessed Malfoy was shamming his 'Professorship,' then it didn't augur well for his future co-operation in this mess, she thought miserably.

'I'd be really interested to go over your research with you,' Hermione said jovially.

Henrik eyed her thoughtfully. 'Sure, Hermione.' He fished out another card from his pocket and passed it to Hermione. 'This is the address of my website henrikshunch.com - I post regular updates on any sudden mass deaths.'

Draco glanced at the Flight Information Board behind them. 'Your plane's been called, Mr Thyssen.'

'We'll speak again,' Henrik said to them both in jocular tones. 'This has all been extremely… illuminating. Thank you.'

'Malfoy,' Hermione said, watching Henrik stride purposefully into the heart of the airport. 'I don't actually have a mobile phone.'

'You do now,' he muttered darkly.

XXX

CHAPTER TRACK: "ELECTRICAL STORM (WILLIAM ORBIT MIX)" by U2

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my original characters.

Thanks to Apurva & Lou.
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