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Empire	By : waymay & Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 12288 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters written in this story; everything belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I don't make any profit from these stories!

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
A/N: First of all, for everyone who's curious - Harry Potter world was SO MUCH FUN. I bought myself a Slytherin robe, two Slytherin scarves, a Luna Lovegood wand (I'm half Ravenclaw!), two pygmy puffs, and a scabbers. Some other things here and there, but they're not all that important. I'll say one thing for sure is that I didn't want to leave after the trip. I could live there. HP world is magical and everyone needs to go AT LEAST once in their life!
I really enjoyed writing this chapter. It's more so 'focused' on Blaise than anyone else, but still relevant. :)
Thank you Mr. Benzedrine for being an awesome companion and proofing!
Chapter 13
Interrogation
They retired back to Malfoy's flat, and the wizard, having realized his current state of grossness, immediately announced he was jumping into the shower. Right before disappearing beyond the realms of his bedroom, the wizard's blonde head popped back out, staring at the witch, who stood awkwardly in the living room, wondering what to do. "Erm, make yourself at home."
Hermione blinked at Malfoy, returning a curt nod as he retreated back into his room. She looked about the loft, pursing her lips as her chocolate orbs bounced from one mound of cluttered junk to the next. Malfoy really did a number on this place in just a few shorts weeks.
While it wasn't quite her place to tidy up his loft, Malfoy did say to make herself at home. What better way to do so than with cleaning up the messy abode?
With a quick swish of her vine wood wand, she grouped up the mess, gathering it into a tight ball floating in the midst of the air, compacting each other tightly before it fell back onto the wooden floor with a loud thump. The deck vibrated and groaned against the weight of the sudden drop. Another gesture from Hermione's wand, and the dense garbage popped away into the abyss.
The room was noticeably cleaner, though, if it were up to Hermione, she would have done some further redecorating and deep cleaning.
Well, just a little bit wouldn't hurt, right?
The witch pointed her arsenal at the rug, which rested under the coffee table, just in front of the fireplace. The Egyptian carpet was stained with what was obviously spilled alcohol from the wizard and his friend's drunken shenanigans. Hermione rolled her eyes. Funny how months before Malfoy had snapped at her for nearly ruining the expensive piece of decor, but he was allowed to treat it anyway he pleased. A slight tap from her wand, and the stains were easily removed.
In just a few minutes, Hermione managed to not only dust away all the grime and soot gathering on window sills and cabinets, but she also magically washed all the dishes and realigned the furniture just a smidge.
"Just one more touch," she muttered to herself, holding her wand up in the air. "Per fumum." A fine mist sprayed from the tip of her stick, and a light and pleasant smell filled the room. Hermione inhaled deeply, puffing her chest out as she took in the scent, and tucked away her weapon. "Ahh... much better!"
A smile sat on her lips as she nodded to herself, satisfied.
Now what?
Ah, yes. She held her index finger up in the air, making way towards the dining table. Once she was there, Hermione conjured two sheets of parchment and some ink and quill. She took a seat on the wooden oak chair, her lips pursed again in deep concentration.
Mister Cattermole,
Thank you for taking time out of your day to schedule a meeting with Draco Malfoy and myself. I, sincerely, apologize for the hiccup in yesterday's plans. Though, after speaking with Mister Malfoy himself, I believe we are ready to set up another appointment.
Please let us know when you will be available next.
As usual, the sooner the better.
Regards,
Hermione Granger
She blew lightly on the ink, trying to hasten the drying process while reading over the short letter to the Ministry worker. Though, Hermione didn't actually have a talk with Malfoy over any of their business plans, she was sure he was back on the same page as she was.
If Hermione could pick one thing (out of her many, many pet peeves), procrastinating would be it. Postponing and delaying things always drove her insane. She didn't understand how (especially) Harry and Ron were able to get away being so calm about cramming the night before a big exam. Had she lived the way they did, Hermione would have been as bald as her pygmy puff -who she conveniently named Baldy.
She pressed her finger against the paper, checking its dryness, and when it was dry enough, she rolled up the paper, spelling it stay in its scrolled form. Hermione, then, opened the door to Bubo Bubo's room, to which she rolled her eyes. Who would give their owl its own room?
The Malfoys, of course.
"Hello," she smiled, pleasantly at the middle aged bird.
Its giant orange eyes blinked boredly at the witch as she entered the room.
"I have a delivery that needs to be sent to Cattermole at the Ministry of Magic. Could you do this one job for me?" Hermione held up the scroll while her unoccupied hand reached towards the eagle owl's head, petting and massaging it gently.
The avian's eyes shut in content as it gave Hermione a pleasant hoot and stuck out its right leg, waiting for the parchment to be attached.
"Thank you." Hermione quickly latched on the letter to bird and pushed the window open. A crisp gust of winter air pushed its way through, sending slight chills down her spine. "Feel free to give the correspondence to your master upon your return."
Bubo Bubo hooted at the witch, bidding her farewell before flying out towards its destination. Hermione kept the window cracked open in case the owl was to return quickly while Malfoy was still home.
Quiet air filled the loft as Hermione entered the sitting room, shutting the office door quietly behind her. Just as she was about to sit down onto the couch, she checked her watch and, much to her surprise, it was nearly ten in the morning!
As much as she would like to sit down and take a break, even if for just a moment, Hermione still had to show up to work, even if it was Saturday.
With Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes grand opening in Ireland, there had been more work than ever for Hermione. That's not to say the other two redheaded brothers didn't have work, but just... Hermione had so much she was a few minutes short of falling behind schedule.
She made way towards the dining table once more, scribbling down a note for Malfoy:
Headed to work. Lots of paperwork to catch up on. I'll be there most of the day. If you need me, the Floo is open.
-H
P.S. I wrote a letter to Cattermole and sent Bubo Bubo off (hope you don't mind). Should he respond with a time and date for a follow up appointment, please inform me as well. We need to get this done ASAP!
Satisfied with her note (Merlin forbid she misspelled something), she slipped on her robe and exited through the front door of Draco's flat.
Though she could have used the Floo to get her to work faster, she had another quick pit stop to make before heading in. Hermione quickly pattered down the steps, each foot moving quickly in front of the other while her hand gripped lightly along the rail, in case she slipped and fell.
Once she reached the bottom of the steps, she looked about Leaky Cauldron, hoping to scout out a familiar face.
Since she and Malfoy were at the Manor for only an hour, Hermione anticipated Zabini was still downstairs at the pub, at...she checked her watch again, nine-forty. Well, she huffed a little, blinking a few times, hopefully he wasn't sloshed. At nine-forty... In the morning.
It wasn't difficult finding the Italian as he was one of the few customers lounging about. Leaky wasn't much known for its breakfast, though they did offer meals at all hours. More often than not, witches and wizards came by the hole-in-the-wall after work to unwind and socialize with others.
"Zabini-" Hermione greeted the wizard as she approached his table.
The Slytherin alumnus looked up from his paper, The Daily Prophet, and arched his brow before sitting on his hot coffee. "Blaise," he corrected.
"Right," she responded tersely, "Blaise." There was a pause as she stood in front of the table, staring down at the wizard, who turned his attention back towards his reading. Well, it seemed like he wasn't going to offer her a seat. "I don't want to bother you-" Hermione started.
"You woke me up at seven-thirty," he looked at her once more, a bored expression on his face. "What's another bother, yeah?"
Her cheeks reddened as Zabini brought up the event this morning. For a moment, her mind drifted back to when she was trying to get Malfoy's attention. When she wasn't able to, she decided the next best option was to seek assistance from his friend, not having considered the time (which, seven-thirty wasn't all that early, at least for those who worked) and didn't realize Zabini was still sleeping.
Well, let's say Zabini ended up greeting the witch, after being woken up by their house elf, without a shirt and lounge pants that were barely hanging on to his narrow hips. Needless to say, the usual confident and chatty witch was rendered speechless and not knowing where to look.
"Granger?" the Italian snapped her out of her daydream or whatever one would call it, with a wide and cocky smirk etched across his face as he studied her expression. "Caught in a fantasy, are we?"
She scoffed and rolled her eyes, looking away from the wizard to still her thumping heart -not that it was beating rapidly for him; rather, she was surprised he realized what she was thinking of. "Yes, um, thank you," she muttered, running a hand up and down her arm nervously. "It means a great deal to me, and hopefully Malfoy won't throw a fit at you for cohorting with the enemy."
His smirk was replaced with a more genuine smile at her comment. "Don't worry, I know how to fend off a snake."
Hermione exhaled a laugh from her nostrils. "Yes, well, try not to get bitten." She pulled back the sleeves of her robe and checked the time. Fifteen more minutes to spare before heading out. She had a little time to spare before clocking in for work. After not being invited to sit at Zabini's table, she took matters into her own hands, "Do you mind if I join you? I'd like to get a quick bite in before heading off to work."
With his wand, Zabini pulled out the empty seat from underneath the table and gestured it towards the witch. Then, he raised his arm, his pointer finger quickly tapping the air twice, getting the morning waitress's attention.
The barmaid stifled a yawn behind her hand before heading over towards the two acquaintances, handing a menu to Hermione. There was a bored and tired look on the woman's face, the corner of her lips dipped into a slight frown, and her auburn hair was stringy, sticking out every which way under her hat. "Can I get you anything to drink?" Even her voice was a monotone bore; it reminded Hermione all too much of a certain Potions professor back in the days.
"Water, please."
Without another word, the woman turned away, levitating a glass and a pitcher of water towards their table. The cup set itself onto the wooden stand, and the pitcher angled itself just enough for the clear liquid to be poured into the glass. Once it was just a few centimetres off from being completely filled, the jug straightened itself out once more and floated back to where it was once.
"Do you need more time to order?"
Hermione scanned through the menu, holding a finger up, signaling 'just a moment' to the woman. "Yes. Bangers and mash, please." Something quick and easy to scarf now.
The barmaid nodded and with a sigh, turned away and sauntered off towards the kitchen to place the brunette's order.
Hermione was left alone with Zabini once more; this time a weird uncomfortable silence hovered between them while ambient noise filled the rest of the pub.
He stared at her, entertained by her fidgeting.
She ran her fingers through her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear -a habit, nervous and not. "What, uh, what are you reading?" She pointed with her chin, towards the newspaper which was still grasped in his hands.
Zabini glanced towards his reading material. "Mmm, just whatever is on the Prophet: Muggle Field Trip Accidentally Stumbles into Diagon Alley, Prisoners Out for Early Release," he paused to take a breath, the corner of his lips twitching every so slightly. "Is Butterbeer Actually Unhealthy? What Are Your Intentions with my Best Mate?, New Discovery: Too Much U-No-Poo Makes You Explode."
"What?" Hermione furrowed her brows at the Italian wizard, tilting her head towards the side. The stubborn strand of hair she tucked behind her ear popped out. "Wait," she grabbed the paper away from Zabini, (who muttered, 'No, go ahead. I wasn't using that.') all of the cordiality flying out of the window. "What are you talking about U-No-Poo making you explode? After I joined Ron and George, I made sure all of our products didn't have any long term effects or caused damage to the customer's well being-" Hermione looked up briefly. "At least, death-wise."
Zabini snorted at her comment and leaned back into his seat, folding his arms across his chest, waiting for the metaphorical light bulb to go off in her head.
Then, it hit her.
"Wait-" she said again. This time, joining her creased brows was a frown to match. "My intentions with Draco?" Hermione set the paper down in front of her, careful not to get it wet with the condensation pooling around the base of her drink.
"Ah, there it is," Zabini nodded, holding his hands out, clapping quietly at the witch, mocking her. "Always so quick to pick up on...subtleties."
"What do you mean my intentions?"
"Need I elaborate?" He cocked a brow, looking at the witch with patience. When he didn't receive an answer, he sighed. "Very well. Let's see how I can break this down for you to understand: you and Draco. Spending lots and lots and lots of time together. More than you ever have, well, ever." Zabini stopped to look at the waitress, who brought Hermione her steaming plate of food. "Refill, please."
"Thank you," Hermione muttered, staring down at her food.
The older woman nodded, pointing her wand towards a metal mug filled with piping hot coffee. Like the pitcher of water earlier, the drink poured itself. "Anything else?"
They both shook their heads.
As the barmaid left, Hermione looked down at her watch. Four minutes passed. Eleven more to go. Just eleven more minutes of nosey Zabini, before she could skip away to work.
"The two of you never once exchanged words to each other -without it almost breaking out into a fight with your two bodyguards," he looped his fingers through the handle of the cup, lifting it up to his nose and inhaled at the scent. "Don't think I forgot about what happened during our third year: a punch to Draco's nose." He grinned behind the mug. "So, why the sudden change of heart?"
She shoved a spoonful of mash into her mouth, hoping it would buy her some time. But then again, it was simply mash. When Hermione swallowed, she responded, though rather defensive towards his comment, "What makes you think I had a change of heart?"
"So, then, there must be some sort of ulterior motive?"
Hermione glanced down at her watch. Ugh. Only a minute has gone by? Damn it, time. Speed up! "Of course not," she muttered, unhappy with the way the conversation was going. "I just want to help him get back on his feet."
"There are plenty others affected by the War. Why not help them? Why Draco? Your sworn childhood nemesis?"
"No- Malfoy is Harry's rival, not mine."
"Tomato, tomato," Zabini shrugged. "Even so, he's someone who has grown up torturing you -Draco's made fun of your hair, your teeth, your blood. He was the first to call you mudblood, after all." Though Blaise did say Hermione's most hated word in the world, she could tell there was no illwill hidden behind his statement. Still, it didn't stop her from outwardly cringing at the comment. "Say there is no motive for you -then what else is there?"
"Just because I do things out of the goodness of my heart, doesn't mean I expect something equivalent in return. Not everyone has a trick up their sleeves." As if to prove her point, though hypothetical, Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her robes, showing there was nothing hidden there. "But perhaps that's a courtesy Slytherins never picked up." With her last comment, she popped a few peas into her mouth, looking almost triumphant at the slight burn towards Zabini.
The Italian grinned. "But perhaps you didn't learn that for every action, there is a reaction."
"No, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction: that's Newton's law of physics, which doesn't apply to philosophical viewpoints. Do get your facts straight before you throw them out blindly at a...what is it?" Hermione stared at Zabini. "A mudblood?"
He barked out a laugh,"Touchè, Granger, touchè."
There it was. Silence once more, though, the uncomfortable airiness left. Hermione found herself enjoying the banter with Zabini. Unlike Malfoy, the Italian wizard took everything with a grain of salt. Nothing seemed to bother him.
"If you must know," Hermione started. She didn't, usually, give into pointlessness, especially with people she hardly knew, but from where the conversation was going, Hermione had a feeling she owed Zabini one for helping her get Malfoy to open the door. Otherwise, she would probably still be trying to figure out how to bust into the apartment without getting ruthlessly zapped. "Mal- Draco helped Harry and me once during our seventh year, during the war. He saved our lives. I'm simply returning the favor-"
"-So, you don't like having to owe someone," the wizard grinned.
"I also don't like being cut off," she snapped before inhaling to calm herself. "But, that's beside the point." Hermione checked her watch -eight more minutes. "Before I partnered with him, all the paper," (she shook the Daily Prophet to emphasize it), "would talk about was the fall of the Malfoy empire. How down in the ditch, he was. He's had it hard enough, let alone to be ridiculed by strangers and by those who don't get the whole story. I'm just someone who is capable of pushing him in the right direction."
There was a sincere expression on Blaise's face as Hermione continued to speak about his friend. And then there was a satisfied look once she finished. "Okay," he said, thus ending his will to pry further. Zabini stared at her a little longer as she turned her attention back towards her breakfast. "This is mine-" he plucked a banger off her plate. "And we'll call it even."
Hermione rolled her eyes but said nothing about the matter, except for when she looked back over towards the newspaper. "So, about this U-No-Poo thing..."
"And she said -she's doing this out of the goodness of her heart," Blaise sniggered as he sat on Draco's couch in his loft. His feet were propped up against the adjacent loveseat and his back pressed into the cushions of the comfy seat. "Can you believe it?"
Truth be told, Draco hadn't been listening to his friend drone on and on about his breakfast with Granger. Not that it didn't interest him -rather, he already knew why she was doing all this. But, the blonde continued to respond to his friend, even if it was just a 'hm...' to answer his rhetorical question.
In his hand was both the note she'd left him stating she had to attend work this morning and the first prototype designed for him by Granger. Though the goggle design was crude and rudimentary, Draco was always in awe looking at it. He doubt he'd ever get tired of studying the item, after all, it was the first thing someone had given him out of the goodness of their heart.
It was crazy how their paths managed to cross after all these years, even if it was the witch who had reached out to him first. When things were at an all time low, somehow, Granger was able to flip everything right side up again. It never ceased to amaze him just how easy a simple gesture could be, or even just... how she was able to forgive him for all the things he'd done in the past. Hell, even Blaise found it rather amusing at how selfless she was.
Blaise pursed his lips, watching the blonde stand in front of the lit fireplace. His blonde hair was still damp from his shower. Draco had been holding onto the weird goggles since he arrived and hadn't once looked away elsewhere.
"You know, that witch-"
"-She has a name-"
"-Right. Miss Priss, was it?"
Draco shot his friend an icy glare. For the first time, he made eye contact with Blaise, who happened to be grinning stupidly back at him.
"I walked her to her shop," the Italian commented. "Crazy how big the store has expanded since the Weasel twins first opened it up. I must say, I was rather impressed." He paused briefly, watching Draco turn his attention back towards his work, obviously uninterested in whatever Blaise had to say. It irked him a tad. All he wanted to do was hang out with his friend, but he wasn't given the time of day. Then he decided to test the waters. "Weasel-butt and Miss Prissy Pants looked pretty chummy back there."
Ah, there it was. Draco snapped his head back towards Blaise; his attention completely, one hundred and ten percent, on the wizard. How was it these two dolts didn't realize what he did?
"I, definitely, felt like the third wheel. Once he showed up, it was like I didn't even exist anymore. Poof! Gone. Just like that."
The blonde snarled at Blaise, finally prying his eyes away from the Italian. He knew Blaise was simply trying to get a rise out of him. There was no way Granger would have anything to do with Weasley. But still, having the image of the pair of them floating about in his head just didn't sit right with him.
Draco couldn't quite understand why -the fact that Weasley and Granger being in close proximity of each other- it really annoyed him, more than he'd care to admit. Maybe it's because they had a past, and old flames could be rekindled.
Just as he was about to say some rather colorful words to Blaise, Bubo Bubo came swooping into the living room, perching himself on the shelf above the hearth.
Hoot.
"Bubo Bubo," he greeted his pet with a loving scratch behind the ears. "Have you mail for me?"
The bird nodded, sticking out its leg. Hoot. It was a response from Cattermole:
To Mister Malfoy and Miss Granger,
Thank you for your prompt inquiry. I understand these confusions can happen.
If it is by no means trouble for the two of you, I will be available tomorrow in the early afternoon. Please come by anytime after lunch, after 12:00 PM.
There is no need to a correspondence.
Regards,
T. Cattermole
"Thank you," he cooed at his owl while Blaise visibly blanched at the sight. It was always odd seeing how Draco had a soft side for animals, though, when it came to other witches and wizard, he was capable of being colder than ice. "Help yourself to some snacks." Draco waved his wand over towards the kitchen, pulling out a canister of cookies made specially for Bubo Bubo.
With a gleeful hoot, the eagle owl soared gracefully into the kitchen, landing next to the glass container and proceeded to dunk its entire face into the opening.
"You never give me cookies," muttered Blaise.
"Maybe if you do something useful for once, rather than drink all of my good scotch, then you just might get some damned cookies." Draco rolled his eyes, folding the parchment and tucked it into the pocket of his pants.
"Excuse me. Millicent Bulstrode?" Blaise was quite offended by his friend's hurtful comment. "I still have nightmares about the trollish witch!"
Draco couldn't help but grin at the comment. "You're right. I forgot all about that-"
"-Of course you did. You didn't have to spend night and day running away from that woman. Swear she has a nose like a bloody hound."
"Would you like a cookie?" he asked in the sincerest of tones.
Blaise looked behind him towards the kitchen, where the owl was still munching away at the cookies. He considered it for the moment, then turned back towards his friend. "No, it's got bird germs all over it now."
Draco scoffed, shaking his head. "There is no winning with you."
"Says you."
"If that is the case, then I need you to kindly sod off while I have some other matters to attend to." The blonde levitated his robe over towards him as he adjusted his hair, combing it back; standing in front of the fireplace quickly dried his fair locks.
"Miss Priss matters?" Blaise smirked, raising his brows as he stood from his seat. Without giving Draco the opportunity to respond, though he knew it was a yes, Blaise stepped into the Floo, shouting "Home!"
Now that his chatty friend was gone, the loft was filled with the sound of his bird munching on its sugary snack. Draco called to its attention, "You'll get sick if you eat too much, Bubo Bubo." Though he made no move to stop the owl from devouring the rest of its food. "Just don't make a mess. Back to your room once you're done."
The avian ignored him.
"Right, then," he muttered. Draco made one last check, making sure he was prim and proper before stepping into the Floo, his destination being the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
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