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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
- 13
- 14
- 15
Back in Buenos Aires. Paranoia, jealousy and the pitfalls of mutual attraction predominate...

14. Tango

The chintzy floral fabrics and staid Louis XVI furniture of her room at the Alvear Palace Hotel in Buenos Aires were oddly comforting to Hermione. What felt like an age since she had last been here was little more than twenty-four hours, but so much had happened in the meantime.

She was glad to be going home tomorrow morning, that was for sure, even if it meant she was heading back to her Tribunal at the Ministry. Defending herself from bigoted bureaucrats would be a lot less dangerous than evading evil wizards.

Plus, it could only be a good thing – a very good thing – to get away from Draco.

Hermione was honest enough with herself to know that something had changed there, something she was struggling to grapple with… a whole new, unexpected level of consciousness and intimacy.

If she closed her eyes for the briefest of moments and relived the feel of his fingers brushing against her skin when they were crushed close together in that poxy Mini Clubman, she found she could hardly breathe all over again.

But this wasn't just about admitting that she found Draco attractive. Finding someone attractive could be conveniently ignored. It was something most people did everyday. This was more than that. It was about seeing him, having a genuine sense of somebody, an innate feeling for their thoughts and moods.

She quickly pushed these thoughts aside. They had an appointment with Miguel Culebra to collect her wand, and she was already running late.

There was hardly any time to refresh herself, so she quickly brushed her teeth, smoothed back her hair, and smeared a dash of gloss onto her lips before donning one of Draco's dresses; a nicely-fitted knee-length number in soft violet silk, which sashayed pleasantly over her hips before flaring a little over the knee.

She rummaged in her bag for her two way mirror, thinking it would be a good idea to quickly contact Ron, tell him she was due back tomorrow morning, only to find that she had actually forgotten to take the mirror to Patagonia in the first place, and had left it on her bedside table. Thank God she'd come back to Buenos Aires, she thought, almost faint with relief. Ron would never have forgiven her if she had lost it for good.

Ron promptly responded when she called his name.

'I've been worried sick about you,' Ron said, looking extremely unworried, Hermione thought a little peevishly. On the contrary, he looked bright and cheery, so much so she suspected he'd had a beer or two. She could hear voices in the background and expected he had company.

'Did you get my owl?'

'Yeah. It came earlier today. Looked a bit bedraggled, poor thing. I take it you went to Patagonia?'

Hermione paused before answering, marveling at his lightness of tone.

'Yes, we did. It was all a bit… unpleasant.'

There was a commotion in the background. Someone was speaking to Ron.

'Who's there?' Hermione asked.

'Tom Bennet and Tana.' Ron beamed. 'Looks like Tana's going to be my partner in Section A. She's just been promoted.'

Hermione smiled. Tana McLaughlin had worked with Ron as an Auror for many years in Section D and had proved to be a loyal and caring friend to the family, and Ron in particular.

'Ginny's here,' Ron said stiffly, his eyes widened in warning. There was a flash of rich auburn hair and then Ginny's face came into view in the mirror, jockeying for space with her brother, her bright, brown eyes dancing with merriment.

'Hey, Hermione!' she yelped excitedly. 'How's tricks?'

Hermione managed a half-smile.

'Getting lots of work done?' Ginny asked.

Okay… Hermione thought. What had Ron told her?

'Yes, lots,' she nodded. 'I'm home tomorrow.'

'Oh, good,' Ron said. 'The kids will be back from Shell Cottage. I think Hugo's driving Fleur spare.'

Hermione smiled indulgently.

'Give my love to Bob and Jean,' Ron said hastily.

So that was the explanation for her absence! A few days with her parents.

'Is Harry with you?' she asked.

'He's at a conference… can't remember where…' Ginny said flippantly. 'I'm here to prime Ron on his next big case!' she gushed.

'What's that then?' Hermione asked, feeling a little aggrieved. If Ron had seen the stuff she'd seen these last couple of days, he wouldn't have time to take on new cases.

'Quidditch match-rigging!' Ron said, smacking his lips enthusiastically.

'Oh, good,' Hermione said weakly, the mirror slipping a little from her grasp. She quickly re-focused it back to her face as she didn't want Ginny to notice that she wasn't actually sitting in her parent's living room in Parson's Green but was in a rather grandiose hotel room instead.

'He's plugging me for all my old contacts from when I was reporting for the sports desk at the Daily Prophet,' Ginny teased. 'Still, it's all worth it. The sport's rotten to the core. Looks like Ferret-face might take a hit on this one too.'

'Malfoy?'

'Up to his eyeballs, apparently,' Ginny sniggered.

'That's not necessarily true, Gin,' Ron groaned.

There was a loud banging on Hermione's bedroom door.

'Hermione!' Draco's voice shouted out. 'It's me.'

Oh lord, Hermione thought.

'So why else are the Wasps being subjected to a full investigation, Ron?' Ginny asked, rounding on her brother. 'Mind you, with Malfoy at the helm, it's the least they deserve.'

'Malfoy's only on the board; that's all.'

There was a further knocking on the door, but this time, a little less forcefully.

'Well if you ask me, it had to be match-fixing which won the Wasps the league last year,' Ginny continued in acerbic tones, 'because their Chasers are utter crap!'

'I've got to go,' Hermione butted in, but Ginny clearly didn't hear her.

'… Everyone in the sport knows Malfoy's behind most of the dodgy deals that have been going on in Quidditch lately.'

Draco lightly tapped on the door again, slowly, insistently, reminding Hermione that he was still there and probably listening to every damned word her sister-in-law was ranting. Then he stopped. His silence was deafening.

'Ginny, please…' Hermione begged.

'And now Ron's got his big chance to bring the slimy ferret down, once and for all,' Ginny said triumphantly, 'and do us all a favour.'

Hermione sighed, feeling a little nauseous. 'I'm going now,' she said firmly. 'There's someone at the door.'

Ron looked aghast.

'Okay, love. See you tomorrow…. And my back's a lot better, by the way,' he added, almost as an afterthought, although Hermione wondered if there was a faint trace of irony in his voice. She'd completely forgotten about his darned back. Really. What the hell was wrong with her these days?

Hermione buried the mirror at the bottom of her case. She couldn't risk Ginny accidentally hearing Draco's voice.

When she opened the door, Draco was leaning against the doorpost, arms folded, and a twisted smile on his face.

'They're not very soundproof these doors, you know that?'

'I'm so sorry,' Hermione breathed, shaking her head.

Draco shrugged. 'Come on. Miguel's expecting us.'

XXX

Miguel Culebra had commandeered a comfortable brown leather sofa positioned conveniently at the front of a bar, which opened out onto the bustling boardwalks at Puerto Madero waterfront, Buenos Aires's swankiest riverside district.

He was enjoying a splendid view of the waterfront, its myriad shiny, upmarket bars and restaurants packed with a cross-pollination of late liquid lunchers and early revelers.

The wooden boardwalk was thronged with tanned tourists in sun-hats, applauding tango dancers, clitter-clattering in clippity heels, swaying and swinging to the jaunty, jingly throb and beat of tango music. The dancers were busking in pairs along the entire length of the riverbank, as far as the eye could see, and had drawn a good crowd.

Hermione couldn't help but feel buoyed by the lively atmosphere, seduced by the silvery ripples of the late afternoon sun glistening on the water.

The tango dancers provided an intriguing, even sexy spectacle. Some ladies were trussed into tight corsets, diamante suspenders and feathered garters. Others wore sparkling, slinky dresses, which were caressed and stroked by their male dancing counterparts, in their tight-fitting trousers and open-necked shirts. Hermione thrilled to it all, the tango's raw sexual melodrama and playful flirtation.

Miguel Culebra was instantly charming, welcoming her to a front-row seat alongside him on the brown leather sofa, while Draco occupied a matching armchair to her right. Miguel quickly ordered a bottle of wine from a passing waiter with a practiced wave.

'Una copa for the lovely Senora?' he said with a toothsome grin, bottle poised at the rim of her glass.

'Just a small one,' she said. Miguel leaned across to pour her wine, and in so doing, he closed the gap between them on the sofa, jamming his warm thigh tightly against hers.

Miguel looked at Draco, bottle in hand, but Draco was watching the antics of a scantily clad dancer draped in a pink feather boa who was performing with her partner directly in front of where they were seated.

Miguel continued to pour Draco a large glass of wine before switching his attention to Hermione.

'I have a little something of yours,' he grinned, plucking her wand-necklace from his pocket, which he presented to her with obsequious ceremony.

She snatched it greedily from his hands, melting with relief.

'A most unusual design,' Miguel murmured. 'Does it have special significance?'

'It was a gift,' she said, trying to fasten it around her neck with some difficulty as her hair kept getting in the way. Miguel lurched closer towards her to assist. Hermione automatically veered sideways, out of his reach. Draco leaned forwards instead, tilting her towards him. He scooped her abundant hair to one side, then fastened her necklace with light, nimble fingers.

To her profound irritation, she could feel a hot blush stealing across her cheeks, which she disguised as best she could by pretending to choke a little at the smoke from a cigarette Miguel had just lit.

'Was it from your husband?' Miguel asked.

'My necklace?'

'Of course,' Miguel said sharply, inhaling deeply on his cigarette.

'Yes – yes, it was,' Hermione lied. 'Thank you so much for retrieving it for me.'

Miguel blew a long plume of blue-grey smoke in Draco's direction.

'And thanks for the lift to Patagonia,' she added.

'It was my pleasure. The jet is not my personal property, sadly, but belongs to our parent company, Astrum.' His eyes shone excitedly. 'However, it is very much at my disposal whenever I wish.'

'I didn't know your company had been bought out? When did this happen?' Draco interjected, clearly perturbed by this development.

'The deal was finalised just last week, so nothing much has changed yet. Astrum's a European company, rebranded for the Latin American market.'

'Will this affect your contracts with Herb Healing?'

'Not at all! Astrum is entirely research-based. They're the geeks in the labs. We simply sell what they make to the general public. All the key marketing decisions remain my territory,' Miguel said smugly. 'And I get more money for making them! Not to mention more perks!'

'How convenient,' Draco said snidely, downing his glass of wine in one swoop. 'Why do I get the horrible feeling I'm being kept out of the loop these days? No-one tells me anything…'

He gestured with his glass towards Miguel, clearly demanding a refill. 'It's been a hard day,' he said, with a pained grimace.

Miguel exploded into loud guffaws of mocking laughter. 'In the company of Senora Weasley? How could that be possible?'

Draco wriggled uncomfortably in his seat. 'It's been tiring. That's all.'

'You need cheering up, my friend!' Miguel bellowed, eagerly sloshing fresh wine into Draco's glass. 'I take it this is your first visit to Buenos Aires, Senora Weasley?' he asked, continuing his ebullient tone.

'Yes it is.'

'And does the Alvear Palace Hotel meet your approval?'

'Very much so.'

'Draco told me you had lunch at MALBA? Did you have a chance to view the art gallery while you were there?'

'Not this time, no.'

'It's not a very good collection anyway,' Miguel said, pursing his lips in distaste. 'You have better paintings back home.'

'Oh, you've been to England?'

'Many times… I used to play polo and we frequently toured England, amongst other wonderful European destinations,' Miguel said. 'I've even played polo in Ottery St Catchpole, would you believe?'

In fact Hermione found that rather hard to believe, seeing as polo wasn't even played there. Come to think of it, she hadn't even told Miguel that she lived in Ottery St Catchpole. Presumably Draco had.

Miguel then turned his attention to Draco. 'In fact, the last time we met, was in England, wasn't it? You remember that funny little place we went to in Chipping Bassett? What a hoot we had! And there was that lovely, sassy blonde, if I recall.'

'No. She was in Hartingford. After Fenster's wedding,' Draco said in dry tones.

'So she was! So she was!'

The two men fell into a long, involved discussion along these lines, mainly reminiscing about rowdy drinking sessions and sexual conquests.

It seemed most peculiar to see Draco laughing so naturally and easily with a Muggle. To be honest, it was peculiar enough seeing him laugh at all, Hermione thought, daintily sipping her glass of wine.

She watched him, as subtly as possible, from behind her wineglass. Yes, Draco was different in the Muggle world. There was something more open and lively in his manner.

He also had presence, which surprised her. She'd supposed that someone so prominent in the wizarding world would be subsumed by the seething mass of Muggle humanity, but it was as though his personality, his moods, even his grumpiness, were all magnified, almost electrified. He prickled with a quirky, patrician charisma.

Maybe he was more relaxed? There were no prior expectations, no infamous family connections. She herself had often enjoyed getting away from being Hermione Granger/Weasley, with all the high acclaim and constant scrutiny that entailed, whenever she visited her Muggle family.

'If you'd just excuse me,' Miguel said suddenly, jumping up from the sofa with surprising alacrity considering how snugly entrenched he'd been. 'There is a friend I must speak with.'

Miguel approached a man in a suit loitering by the bar, slapping a large, friendly hand on his shoulder.

'He's quite a character,' Hermione said.

Draco nodded in agreement.

Hermione caught a waiter's attention and signaled for an espresso. After such a long and tiring day she needed a quick pick-me-up before she made her way back to the hotel, as she suspected Miguel and Draco had their own plans. Then it struck her that she didn't actually have any money.

'Malfoy,' Hermione said apologetically, 'this is kind of embarrassing, but could I borrow some cash?'

'What for?'

'A taxi,' Hermione said. 'Oh, and to pay for this coffee,' she added as an afterthought, staring guiltily at the tiny china coffee cup the waiter promptly deposited on the table in front of her.

'Miguel will pay,' Draco grunted distractedly.

'I still need to get a taxi,' Hermione remonstrated.

'Not alone, you don't.'

'I beg your pardon.'

'You heard me.' Draco swigged his wine. 'I don't want you wandering around this place on your own.'

'How very touching,' she said, flashing him a phony grin. 'But I can look after myself. Particularly now I've got my wand back.'

'For fuck's sake, Hermione. I don't like the idea of ME walking around alone after what we witnessed in Santa Maria, let alone you.' He fixed her with an insolent glare. 'Ron would kill me if something happened.'

'Oh, I see. Well, isn't that just typical?' Hermione said archly. 'You're not actually concerned for my personal welfare at all, but more worried about saving your own skin.'

'Look, it's a very dangerous world out there, Hermione,' he grunted.

'I think I've twigged that, Malfoy!' she said sarcastically.

Draco paused to drink more wine. He was drinking very quickly, Hermione thought. The bottle Miguel had ordered was completely empty.

'You've no idea… Dark Flux isn't the only magical material that kills by blood type, you know… There's other curses and potions.'

'That's hardly new. There's always been dark magic artefacts which distinguish between purebloods and Muggleborns.'

'I'm talking stockpiles, Hermione,' Draco said, a haunted expression in his eyes. 'You're going to need extra protection when you get back home, too.'

Hermione was a little taken aback by his earnestness. Maybe his close brush with Voldemort and his murderous Death Eaters when he had been a teenager had affected him more deeply than she had ever supposed?

He had truly seen the face of evil.

But, unfortunately, it was because of that same background and his associates that she still struggled to trust him… increasingly against her own wishes.

'The fact you even know this stuff really scares me, Malfoy,' Hermione sighed. 'For all I know, by working with you, I'm now in cahoots with dark wizards!'

'Ephraim isn't a dark wizard,' Draco said assuredly.

'And what of this Torquil Haast?'

'Harmless.'

'In your opinion…'

'Ask Ron. Anyway, you can see for yourself. Torquil always comes to the Yuletide Ball at Malfoy Manor.'

'Well, seeing as Ron and I haven't actually been invited, that's hardly relevant.'

'But of course you're invited,' Draco said. 'And you'll meet Scorpius, too.'

'Look Malfoy,' Hermione said in firm, furious tones. 'Just because we're stuck together on this mission of yours, doesn't mean we're friends. Alright?'

Draco's clear, grey eyes darkened. 'I never said we were!' he growled. 'I was being polite.'

Miguel returned, jovially swinging another bottle of wine which he promptly used to refill his and Draco's wineglass. Hermione refused.

'Sorry to abandon you,' Miguel said, a small smile on his face. 'You seem flustered, Senora Weasley. Has something happened?'

'No, nothing, I'm fine,' Hermione lied. 'Just a little tired. I was about to head back to the hotel.'

'Que Pena! What a shame! How long are you in town?' Miguel asked in jocular tones, his knee banging against her thigh in an insistent manner.

'Until tomorrow,' she said shortly.

'Then tonight, we will go dancing, no?' Miguel exclaimed, looking like he might burst with happiness. 'You have no qualms, Draco, if your lovely friend accompanies us?'

Draco took a long, deep drink of his wine and shook his head. 'Not at all. I was going to suggest it myself.'

'Maravilloso!' Miguel said gleefully. 'We will have a famous night to remember, no?'

XXX

Miguel texted through details about their evening, just minutes after Draco and Hermione had hailed a taxi to get back to the hotel.

Draco scowled. 'He says you're to dress up, apparently. He so obviously fancies the pants off you, it's disgusting!'

'No he doesn't, he's just teasing,' Hermione sighed, 'and who cares if he did? I'm a married woman. Nothing's ever going to happen.'

'He's an attractive man.'

'What of it?'

'Ah… so you don't deny that you find him attractive then…'

Hermione groaned. 'You're such a child.'

Draco continued scrolling through the texts on his mobile phone when he stopped, his gaze lingering on his mobile phone screen, a deepening frown on his face.

'What's wrong?' she asked.

'Your Danish friend, Mr Thyssen,' he muttered.

'He's hardly my friend, Malfoy! He's our informant,' Hermione spluttered.

'He's texted you.'

'Me? That's your phone.'

'After tonight, it's yours,' Draco said.

'After tomorrow morning, I won't be your assistant, Professor,' Hermione said, rolling her eyes sardonically. 'So you can be Henrik's contact instead.'

'If you hadn't noticed, he only wanted to deal with you!' Draco said, curling his lip in distaste.

'So what does he say?' Hermione said impatiently.

'He wants to meet you when you get back to the UK – in London. He has something "extremely important" he wants to discuss with you,' Draco drawled. 'Well it can't be that fucking important! He only saw you this morning.'

Draco flipped his phone shut, and stared out of the window, grinding his teeth in silent fury.

XXX

Hermione had ordered a light meal from room service and managed a long soak in the bath. She was soon to meet Draco in the bar downstairs. Miguel was sending a limousine to pick them up – another perk from Astrum, apparently.

She gazed at the dusky pink silk shift which she had yearned for, spread out on her bed. Of course, seeing it as an object of desire in a boutique window was quite different to actually wearing it. And pink wasn't her colour.

This particular pink was labelled 'Cenizas de Rosas', which was translated in parentheses on the label as 'Ashes of Roses'. She slipped it on, reveling in the feel of the soft, silky fabric against her bare skin. She rarely wore clothes like this. But she had braved the world in Fleur's red dress; surely she could do the same again here?

She was surprised at how well 'Cenizas de Rosas' suited her colouring. With her hair flowing free and tousled, she looked rather pretty.

But there was one major sticking point. Her bra looked cumbersome and bulky, puckering the dress's delicate fabric. But once she'd removed it, the diaphanous silky material clung to every line and curve of her body, leaving very little to the imagination. Her nipples were clearly visible, a dark rosy pink under the thin fabric, and there was a slight dent over her navel.

She deliberated for a good few minutes. She knew she looked good, even sexy, which was kind of shocking for her, to be honest. But she also knew she was not the daring sort of person to be wearing see-through clothes.

Hermione was torn between her natural reticence and a strange desire to be somebody else… even if it was for just for one evening.

There was a sharp knock on the door that she already recognised as Draco's. He was far too early. This couldn't be about his wound; he'd assured her that there'd been no more bleeding or oozing and, best of all, no more pain since last night.

'What do you want?' she huffed, reluctantly opening the door.

Draco barged past her into the room, throwing himself heavily onto her bed.

He was dressed from head to toe in black, his bright blond hair glowing in stark contrast.

His head was flopped backwards against her pillow, his long legs, clad in black denim, stretched out before him. He'd brought a glass of iced brown liquid which Hermione guessed might be whisky, which he dangled perilously from his hand over the side of her bed.

'I knew not to trust that Danish guy!' he railed. 'The moment I met him, I knew there was something not quite right… he was almost too welcoming! Too friendly!'

'Oh, of course,' Hermione muttered. 'Because being nice is such a bad thing, isn't it? Don't you ever get tired of thinking like a Slytherin?'

Draco ignored her. 'I spoke to Torquil earlier… asked him to check out this Henrik Thyssen's credentials.'

'How very trusting of you…'

'And guess what?'

Hermione headed into her bathroom. 'Amaze me!' she called.

She rummaged in her toiletry bag for a touch of makeup, and pulled out mascara and a lipstick, which she applied using the glaring, bright light positioned above the bathroom mirror

'So far, they've turned up nothing! The guy doesn't seem to exist!' Draco shouted from the bedroom.

'Maybe Henrik Thyssen's just his pen-name? He's a photo-journalist, remember… did you get Torquil to check for by-lines in the Muggle media?' Hermione yelled back in return.

'Of course he did! Torquil's nothing if not thorough. But think about it, Hermione. If Henrik's not who he says he is, who is he?' Draco said irritably. Then, his voice suddenly much nearer. 'And why would he have so many ghastly pictures of Dark Flux victims?'

Hearing this, Hermione felt a little sickened. Yes, if true, that would be very odd indeed.

She could see in the mirror that Draco was now standing in the doorway between her bedroom and the bathroom and was staring directly at her. She burned with sudden self-consciousness and felt almost afraid to turn and face him, as she waited for some caustic comment about her ridiculously see-through dress.

She knew he'd noticed. She could feel his eyes, hard gunmetal grey, sliding over her body, but his face was implacable.

'He's definitely a Muggle, though, he didn't lie about that,' she said breezily, trying to ignore the sudden weighty silence which had fallen between them.

She smoothed down her hair and then pushed roughly past him to return to the bedroom. She could sense he was following her every move with his eyes and was thankful that she only had a single bedside lamp lit, ensuring the bedroom was darker than the bathroom, where she had felt more fully exposed to his gaze.

She seated herself on the Louis XVI chair, quickly re-adjusting her dusky pink dress which had risen high up her thighs, exposing long, smooth limbs, and pulled on a pair of high-heeled open-toed sandals. These had been acquired that afternoon, courtesy of Draco's corporate credit card, once she'd explained at length, in tones that Ron would have described as her nagging best, how she couldn't possibly doll up for a night out without them.

'Don't forget,' she continued, casting a sidelong glance at Draco, 'Henrik was able to open the scanner case.'

'What are you wearing?' Draco eventually said, looking a little shell-shocked.

Hermione cowered a little under his heated gaze. She raised one leg at a time, and wiggled each foot, displaying each sandal to its best advantage.

'You bought them for me this afternoon, don't you remember?'

'No. The dress,' he said hoarsely.

Hermione blushed hotly, searching with unsteady hands for a pair of earrings that she had left on the antique table.

'You bought the dress for me, too, Malfoy. When we first arrived here.'

Once she'd found the earrings, she put them on with the aid of a small dressing table mirror. She could see Draco's face looming behind her. He was still staring fixedly at her, a curious, pensive expression on his face. Did he like what he saw? Or was he hating her? She couldn't tell, and really, she told herself, she shouldn't care either.

'So… do we think it's a good idea I meet Henrik Thyssen or not?' she said slowly, trying to elicit some conversation, move them back to a normal footing.

'He might be dangerous. For all we know, he works for Jeroboam. Remember, Red Star employs a lot of Muggles.'

'All the more reason to keep tabs on him then, don't you think?' Hermione said, swinging round to face him. Her hand automatically felt for her wand pendant. She broke into a relieved smile to feel its reassuring presence.

'You can't go alone,' Draco said.

'Oh, I won't,' Hermione grinned. 'I'll take Ron.'

XXX

Miguel was waiting for them in the Cigar Bar, reclining on a plush cream sofa, plumped up on all sides by leopard-skin patterned cushions.

Hermione felt she had stepped into the saloon of a 1930s cruise liner, complete with long metallic bar, art deco motifs, an array of glasses and bottles glinting in the low-pitched lighting, and the pleasant brassy throb of a big band orchestra playing over the sound system.

Miguel downed his beer and hastened towards them, a huge grin plastered on his face.

'You know, you don't have to come along if you don't want to,' Draco said to Hermione in hushed tones.

'And there I was thinking you didn't want to leave me alone, just in case some big bad wizard in a red dress attacked me,' Hermione retorted. She glared at him angrily.

'How lovely to see you both!' Miguel exclaimed. 'Hermione! You look like a goddess, no? Our car is waiting outside.'

Miguel hurried them out of the hotel onto the street where it was still balmy warm, in spite of the late hour. A black limousine awaited them with a uniformed chauffeur in attendance.

'All I'm saying,' Draco continued, standing close to Hermione, 'is that when Miguel and I go out together, things tend to get a bit raucous… wine, women and song, that kind of thing…'

'Nothing I can't handle,' Hermione sniped, although privately she was having doubts. She wasn't what one could call a rip-roaring party girl.

'Don't be so sure of that,' Draco said cockily, but then he stopped short, his eyes wide in terror.

'What is it?' Hermione asked in alarm. She followed the direction of his eyes. He was staring at a large black crow standing on the pavement.

'Look, Malfoy. Sometimes a bird's just a bird!' she said, in as casual a manner as possible. 'Come on!'

The crow flew away, alighting on a tree on the other side of the road. Hermione shivered involuntarily, then stepped into the waiting limousine, Draco close behind her.

XXX

CHAPTER TRACKS: “JALOUSIE” by JACOB GADE & "PROPANE NIGHTMARES" by PENDULUM

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my original characters.

Many thanks to Apurva and Lou.
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Ring A Ring O' Roses