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Ring A Ring O' Roses	By : Gallivant Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 16640 -:- 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
- 16
- 17
- 18
Hermione and Draco confront Senor Canaro and Miguel… with ghastly consequences.

17. A Pin's Fee

The scanner was gone from Draco's hotel room.

'And you're still sure Rosario was a Muggle?' Hermione asked Draco, arching a sceptical eyebrow. 'She's clearly working for Los Rojos.'

'To be fair, getting the scanner out was all my idea. I wanted her to check me for Dark Flux,' Draco said peevishly. ‘The bloody thing kept beeping furiously every time Rosario pointed it in my direction… Seemed a little ominous to me.'

'Maybe it was malfunctioning?' Hermione said brightly. 'It beeped when Henrik was holding it too, remember?' Although the thought did occur to her that Draco had also been standing next to Henrik at the time.

'Anyway. Los Rojos have the scanner now,' Draco said glumly. 'Maybe my 'good' friend Miguel can cast some light on its whereabouts, seeing as last night now looks like one big set-up.'

He was right, of course, Hermione thought. Clearly Draco had been hexed or drugged, seduced, then duped into believing he had killed Rosario – and in the process, Rosario or her accomplices had stolen the scanner from Draco's hotel room.

Even so, it seemed an unnecessarily convoluted way to just get hold of that scanner, Hermione reflected. There had to be something else going on…

'We can grill Miguel when we see him later. Let’s first see what Senor Canaro has to say for himself. I'm sure he's up to his neck in this business.'

XXX

The moment the taxi pulled away, leaving them alone on the pavement outside Senor Canaro's house, Hermione half-regretted that they had come at all. There was an odd, knotted broiling sensation churning through her stomach – something she soon recognized as serious foreboding.

The house was forbiddingly dark in the purplish light of incipient dawn, blank and faceless.

Hermione soon saw that Draco was feeling similarly rattled. He kept blowing out his cheeks nervously, studying the house with unalloyed suspicion.

'You feel it too?' she asked in a still, quiet voice. There was something about this place, this street, that made her feel preyed upon, as though there was a dark, skulking presence watching her every move, listening to her every word, and even reading her thoughts.

Draco didn't say anything, but then he didn't need to. His eyes were darting to and fro, alert to the slightest rustle of soft wind whispering though the trees or the distant screech of tyres braking on the main road far away in the distance.

'Let's get this over with. My shoulder hurts like buggery,' he murmured.

'Don't forget to ask Senor Canaro about that Mediwizard he knows.'

Draco frowned. 'Canaro's hardly likely to help me once we've accused him of sending us to our deaths in Patagonia with a false memory, is he, now?'

'You ask him about the Mediwizard FIRST, Draco. Isn't that obvious?' Hermione said in practical, prissy tones.

To their surprise, and adding to their sense of dread, the door was slightly ajar. Draco hesitantly pushed the door wide open. Inside, the hallway was pitch-black, a gaping vacuum.

'Give me your wand,' he hissed between his teeth.

'But….'

'Just fucking hand it over,' he said grappling with her hand in the dark, forcing her to relinquish the wand. 'Stay here.'

'Oh, for god's sake, Draco, don't try to be the hero, it doesn't suit you,' Hermione protested, brusquely reclaiming her wand and clutching it tightly.

Hermione pushed past Draco into the dark hallway, wand aloft. She muttered 'Lumos,' and a welcome glow shone from the tip of her wand, illuminating the entry to the house.

Draco bit his lip nervously, his eyes flicking from Hermione's face to the hallway beyond. The light from Hermione's wand only extended to a mid-way point down the long, shadowy corridor which led to the enclave which housed the Pensieve, before being swallowed up into the thick, velvety darkness.

'Not so fast!' Draco retorted, lunging forwards and twisting her wand out of her grasp in a surprising show of strength. 'I'LL go first,' he said petulantly, heading deep into the hallway. 'Senor Canaro!' he called.

His voice echoed eerily, ringing out in the silence… a silence so deep, so dense, it was palpable. She could hear her heart pumping loudly in her chest, almost like it belonged to a separate entity, standing alongside her.

There was something very odd about this lack of noise, she realized.

Where was the cacophony of birdsong?

Draco strode forwards, pausing at the entrance to Senor Canaro's potions room. He thrust Hermione's wand into the room before him, then stepped inside.

From where she was standing by the front door, Hermione could see the dancing flashes of light from her wand, waving to and fro, up and down, reflected onto the hallway wall opposite Canaro's potions room.

And then the light stopped. Frozen in its tracks.

'What is it?' Hermione shrilled.

She sprinted to the open door, colliding with Draco who was charging out of the potions room, his eyes wild with terror.

'You can't go in there,' he warned, his hand shaking so much, the light from the wand pooling at their feet was juddering uncontrollably. Hermione tried to push past him but he flung her back against the wall.

'Merlin, Draco! I don't need mollycoddling!' she sniped, although the fear in Draco's face, gaunt-looking in the half-shadow, and the strange look in his eye, was giving her undeniable pause for thought.

'No, Hermione, you've got to trust me on this,' he said firmly, placing a large, flat hand against the side of her neck. 'You really don't want to go in there!'

'Get off me,' she growled scornfully, wriggling free. 'I've seen my fair share of horrors these last couple of days. What about poor Ana? What could be worse than that?'

'This is MUCH worse than that.’

Hermione seized his arm holding her wand, and jerked him towards her, then directed her wand into the room so that she could see inside.

The room had been brutally vandalised. The bird and animal cages had been opened, and all living creatures were missing or lying dead, in pools of blood, feathers scattered, eyes glassy and cold. Every single bottle and jar had been smashed to smithereens, the ingredients and fluids spilled and flowing into a thick, viscous sludge.

There was a fetid stench, so acrid, so pervasive, Hermione felt sure the tiny hairs inside her nasal passages were being singed. She recoiled in disgust, instinctively shoving a hand over her face to stop the warm bile which had flooded into her mouth from spilling over.

But it was too late. Her stomach heaved involuntarily, forcing a thin trail of burning acid to erupt onto her hand and then onto the floor. She wiped her hand on the wall beside her, and in so doing, turned her head sideways. The sight that greeted her eyes was grotesque, monstrous; she could hardly believe it was real.

She felt her knees buckle beneath her and started sliding downwards, her shoes slipping in the putrid, sticky gloop that coated the floor. Draco caught her, hooking both his arms tightly around her waist. The wand was now jabbed against her middle, but its light-bearing tip was pointing directly ahead at the gruesome spectacle of Senor Canaro, tethered to a chair in a spread-eagled position.

He was naked, but this was barely relevant, as he had been sliced open from his gullet to his groin, his skin peeled back, and his entrails ripped from him. His long, looped intestines dangled loose and limp, like a bloodied string of sausages. His face was contorted in shock and pain, and his skin sagged, his beady eyes sunken and dulled.

'What kind of magic was this?' Hermione whispered hoarsely.

Draco was pressed taut against her back. She could feel the rapid movement of his stomach and chest, pushing in and out, in tandem with his ragged breathing.

'At a guess, this was Muggle.' His voice rang loud and abrasive in her ear. 'I've – I've seen the effects of an entrail-expelling curse, and it's nothing like this.' He unconsciously dug his nails into her arms as he spoke. 'What is it with you Muggles? Why's everything so fucking bloody? So filthy?'

Hermione frantically clawed herself from his vice-like grip, panting furiously. She rubbed her arms where he had hurt her. A whiny hysterical voice was ringing in her head, telling her to get out of this place, to get away from this man, who suddenly seemed so cruel and unknowable in this eerie half-light.

She made a dash for the door, then remembered he had her wand. She paused on the threshold, looking back into the darkness.

The faint glimmer of light afforded by her wand was coming closer, gaining in strength and volume. Within moments, Draco was standing directly in front of her, his pale hair shimmering, his eyes gleaming brightly.

'You're frightening me,' Hermione whimpered, ashamed of the hot tears stinging her cheeks.

'There's a dead man with his guts spilled out, and you're scared of ME?' Draco bellowed. 'That's just about the most pathetic thing I've ever heard.'

'Can we go now?'

Draco shoved her wand into her shaking hand, then pushed roughly past her and stalked off into the grey morning light.

XXX

'I don't understand why you think it was Muggles who killed him?' Hermione whined, desperate for some kind of response from Draco who was grey and stony-faced. They had stumbled outside and were sitting on the kerb of the pavement facing the dark, forbidding frontage of Canaro's house on the other side of the road.

'Wizards prefer a clean kill,' Draco said pointedly.

'That's utter crap!' Hermione shrieked. 'This had to be the work of Los Rojos, and you know it!'

'And we also know that JEROBOAM employs Muggles, don't we? Including, it seems, my erstwhile friend Miguel…'

Hermione sighed. 'Don't jump to conclusions, Draco. Miguel probably didn't have anything to do with this!'

'Well let's go find out,' he grunted in reply. 'Come on.'

XXX

Miguel's boat was docked in a small, chic harbour a few miles outside of the main city of Buenos Aires. There were a number of similarly sized sailing boats lining this section of the River Plate. Miguel's was one of the largest and flashiest, its freshly applied paintwork glistening in the bright morning sunshine.

Standing on the wooden jetty which abutted his boat, Hermione and Draco could see Miguel moving around inside the sizeable cabin. He had company.

'Fuck,' Draco hissed between his teeth, his eyes burning with indignation. 'It's that Rosario bitch!'

Hermione shot him a furious look. 'You could be a little happier that she's actually alive!'

The commotion prompted by their arrival had been noted by Rosario, who peered inquisitively out of the cabin window, eyes screwed tight against the dazzling white sunshine.

Draco and Hermione scurried back to the safety of the car park and ducked behind a car.

'Did she see us?' Hermione asked.

'No, I don't think so,' Draco said irritably, his eyes alighting on Hermione's brown leather suitcase which had been left, slap bang, alone and slightly surreal-looking, on the jetty.

'Damn,' Hermione muttered. She swished her wand, concealing the bag from view with a Disillusionment Charm. 'Right, Draco. Maybe our best bet is to Apparate on board.'

Pained apprehension swept across his face.

'Look… the thing is….'

'Another time, Draco,' she said impatiently, scrutinising the deck of Miguel's boat. 'Just hold on.' She instantly Apparated, Draco in tow, onto Miguel's boat.

Miguel had settled himself comfortably into a deckchair. He was dressed in a baggy white vest top and underpants and was glugging a bottle of Quilmes lager, even though it was still early in the morning.

He certainly didn't look like a man who had spent the night torturing and disemboweling Senor Canaro, that was for sure.

Miguel instantly screamed in horror, the lager bottle crashing from his hand onto the highly polished wooden deck, at the sight of Hermione and Draco suddenly materialising from thin air in front of him.

'No, no!' he cried in abject terror, his tanned complexion suddenly pale. 'They promised me…. They said you wouldn't be killed!' he sniveled, quivering in fear, thick globs of sweat beading his forehead.

Draco stepped towards him prompting Miguel to shrink into the deckchair. 'What the hell are you?' he squeaked. 'Fantasmas?'

'Ghosts?' Draco smirked. He cocked his head at Hermione, a mischievous glint in his eye. 'You hear that, Hermione? He thinks we're ghosts!'

Hermione gave Miguel a pained, weary look. 'No, Miguel, we're not ghosts.' She brandished her wand, and with a deft flourish, transformed Miguel's deckchair into a plush red sofa, up-ending Miguel in the process. He flopped clumsily onto the floor. 'We're wizards!' She grinned puckishly. 'Aren't we, Draco?'

Draco nodded. 'Don't act so surprised, Miguel. You know wizards exist! Someone hexed me last night, and you know exactly who it was, don't you?'

'No, Draco… I – I,' Miguel gasped, breathlessly. 'I don't know what you're talking about! Honest!'

Draco's eyes narrowed in disbelief.

'You fucking cretinous liar,' he jeered, his voice laced with menace. He stepped closer to Miguel who rapidly retreated, cowering behind the newly-conjured red sofa in a vain attempt to avoid Draco's penetrating stare.

'You set me up last night!' Draco spat, towering above his friend. 'I could have died! I was hexed so bad, I thought my brain might explode!'

'What is this HEXED, you talk about?' Miguel said in pleading tones.

'I was so fucking delirious, I even thought I'd killed Rosario, you fucking moron!' Draco bellowed. 'Speaking of which… Hey! Rosario! We know you're in there!' he called in the direction of the cabin.

Hermione immediately levelled a Reducto at the cabin. There was a clamorous crunching din as glass shattered and wood splintered.

Rosario was clearly visible, exposed by the gaping hole Hermione had blown into the cabin's frontage.

Clad only in a skimpy leopard-skin bikini, the girl was whimpering with fear.

She stared fixedly at Draco, whose face was contorted with loathing, his lip curled in snarling derision.

'I-I was told to do it. It was a job… nothing personal,’ she stuttered.

'Oh, I see,' Draco sneered. 'So you speak English now, do you? And I bet you work for Astrum, too,' he said in cutting tones. He turned to Miguel. 'Astrum. Or 'Red Star,' as we call them in Europe. Owned by a Mr Jeroboam. Did your directive to fuck me over come straight from the big man himself?'

Miguel shook his head vehemently. 'I don't know who… everything has been by telephone… mainly from London….'

'London?' Hermione asked. But Jeroboam was based in Geneva.

Miguel nodded sheepishly. He tried to deflect Draco's fierce gaze by addressing his comments to Hermione instead. 'I had specific orders, Mrs Weasley, to ensure that YOU were kept out of harm's way throughout the entire operation.'

'Who told you this?' Hermione asked, her eyes hard and blazing.

Miguel shrugged helplessly. 'I never knew his name. But he was definitely an Englishman and works for Astrum – or Red Star, as you call it - in London…'

Hermione bristled with suspicion. Jeroboam had recently withdrawn all Red Star operations from the UK… so did Miguel mean Red Star's subsidiary, Arcana? That couldn't be possible. Ephraim Golowitz had bought Arcana, lock, stock and barrel, just last week. At that point, no one – including herself – had any idea that she would be accompanying Draco to South America … until, of course, Los Rojos had attacked Ron.

'You see, I needed the money… ' Miguel continued, in a beseeching tone. 'They threatened to fire me if I didn't do what they said.' He turned towards Draco, although he still couldn't quite summon the courage to look him in the eye. 'I'm so sorry.'

Draco shook his head in exasperation, and yet something in his stance, a slight relaxation of his shoulders, suggested to Hermione that his undoubted fury at Miguel's betrayal was tempered by the knowledge that it had only been short-lived, presumably only since Astrum took over his company.

Miguel tried to get up from the floor, hoisting himself into a standing position using the transfigured sofa as a support.

He then flopped heavily onto the sofa, shoulders heaving, gasping for breath.

'So let's get this clear, Miguel,' Draco said, 'what was the objective of this little operation? Because there's got to be better ways to get hold of that fucking scanner other than hexing me into bloody oblivion!'

Miguel looked puzzled. 'What do you mean, SCANNER? What are you talking about?'

Draco grimaced at Rosario. 'Okay, so it had to be YOU who took it; or did you have an accomplice?'

'My task was to isolate Draco, that was all,' Rosario responded, in pristine, lightly accented English. 'Nothing about a scanner.'

She then glanced sideways before staring stiffly ahead, chin held high. However, it was this tiny, involuntary movement which told Hermione the likely current whereabouts of the scanner.

Hermione immediately whispered 'Accio', focusing on the metal attaché case, which instantly spun through the air towards her. She quickly grabbed it.

Both Miguel and Rosario were open-mouthed in amazement.

'How did you do that?' Miguel choked.

Hermione ignored him, keeping her wand firmly trained on Rosario. 'You're a liar! You took this from Draco's room, didn't you? Who told you to take it?'

Rosario's reply was inaudible, her eyes wide in confusion.

Hermione stepped forwards, grabbing the girl by her wrist and pulling her closer.

'Speak up!' she demanded.

Rosario opened her mouth to speak, but instead emitted a dry, coughing sound, her eyes flitting nervously from side to side. For a split second, Hermione thought her eyes lingered a moment longer on the car park.

Miguel addressed Rosario in Spanish. He sounded defeated and weary.

Rosario snapped back, railing at him in quickfire Spanish.

'Hey! English!' Draco shouted.

'On my mother's life, I never took anything, I promise,' Rosario said in a small, mousy voice. She turned to Draco, blushing furiously. 'While you were sleeping… two men came to your room.'

'You let them in?' Draco asked, a crooked smile on his face.

'I don't know,' Rosario sighed. 'Everything's a blur. They gave me a drink. Told me to sleep, and from that moment on, I don't remember a thing.'

Hermione sighed. She suspected Rosario was telling the truth. Rosario had clearly drunk a Draught of Living Death; all part of this elaborate ruse to terrify the hell out of Draco.

'So why's the scanner here?' she asked.

Rosario shrugged. 'I don't know. It was here when I woke up. I recognised it because Draco showed it to me last night… I didn't know what it was, and I still don't…'

'Look Draco. Mrs Weasley,' Miguel remonstrated. 'Nobody ever mentioned this damned SCANNER…. I was to get you drunk, Draco… to keep you distracted!'

'I was much more than drunk, Miguel! I was hallucinating!'

Miguel vehemently shook his head, protesting his innocence, but Rosario butted in before he could speak. 'It was me. My fault. I was given sweets to give to you. I think they were drugged.'

'Who gave them to you?'

'Was it one of the two men who later came into Draco's room?' Hermione asked shrewishly.

Rosario nodded. 'Yes. One of them drives the company limousine.'

'But of course,' Hermione muttered, more to herself.

'He drove us here from Villa Ofelia.'

Which meant that Los Rojos knew where Miguel harboured his boat, Hermione thought with a chill. They could be here now…

She exchanged a worried look with Draco. Clearly, the same thought had occurred to him too.

Miguel stood up from the plush red sofa, arms outstretched in a dramatic show of attempted reconciliation.

'Draco. You are my friend. My dear, dear friend. I am truly sorry!' he wailed. 'I had so many debts… I was weak…'

Draco surveyed the lavish boat with a sarcastic leer. 'Oh, yeah… really, really suffering, weren't you?’

However, any further insults were suddenly curtailed by a swooping whoosh and a blood-curdling cry from Miguel.

He stumbled forwards, his face frozen into a rigid mask of unexpected pain, collapsing into Draco's arms.

Draco fell backwards, overwhelmed by Miguel's lumbering weight.

To Hermione's horror, she could see an arrow had been fired deep into Miguel's back.

'Shit!' Draco cried. 'Where the fuck did that come from?'

Draco swiftly eased Miguel towards the sofa, and into the comfort of Hermione's arms, then sprinted to the side of the boat, scanning the area for Miguel's attacker.

Rosario had dashed to the side of the boat too, and was hastily scrambling overboard, making a run for it.

'Get back here! We haven't finished with you yet!' Draco yelled, running to grab at her before she disappeared from view.

He was left clutching at thin air.

He cast a look of deep frustration at Hermione.

'Take this!' she called, throwing him her wand, which he caught in one hand, exercising his Seeker reflexes, before clambering over the side of the boat in hot pursuit.

He was gone.

Alone with Miguel, Hermione could feel panic rising dizzily up inside of her.

Miguel's hefty bulk seemed to be getting heavier and heavier by the second.

She gently levered him onto the sofa. He lolled against her, his head slumped onto her chest. The arrow impaling his back remained upright; stiff and bloodied.

Her mind was racing. Whoever had shot the bow and arrow was probably still out there.

With Draco.

Her stomach clenched in fear.

Draco might be running straight into danger…

She had to suppress the urge to push Miguel aside and chase after him.

But there was no way she could do that, not now. Miguel was clinging to her, his face rocked with spasms of pain, and he had turned a ghastly white.

'Get – get it out,' he croaked.

‘I can’t,’ Hermione said. ‘It would kill you.’

‘I insist.’

‘No, Miguel… I’m sorry.’

Miguel looked sadly despondent. He reached behind himself with one arm, face contorted with pain at the effort, and tried to yank the arrow out himself.

‘I can’t bear it inside of me! Please… Mrs Weasley… Hermione… I’m begging you!’ he groaned.

‘Oh hell,’ Hermione muttered, blinking back tears. Was he likely to die anyway? Would removing the arrow simply hasten the inevitable? Maybe there was a fighting chance she could use magic to staunch the flow of blood once the arrow was out of him?

Hermione reluctantly folded her palm around the arrow and tugged it gently, repelled at the bloodied jelly which was already coating the wood and the ripping sound of the arrow tearing through Miguel's flesh.

'Harder,' he begged.

She steeled herself, then pulled harder, instinctively retching as the arrowhead burst out of Miguel's body with a flurry of blood.

Miguel flinched, gasping at the intense pain.

The exit wound was large and gaping, blood spewing freely. Within moments, Miguel's white vest top was saturated in bright, crimson blood.

Hermione closed her eyes and focused hard, muttering charm after charm – anything she could think of to try and help Miguel; but nothing seemed to stem the flow of blood. Who had done this? Was this the work of Los Rojos? Were they trying to silence Miguel before he spilled the beans?

'Listen. This is important,' Miguel said, breathlessly, his eyes rolling, blood frothing from his mouth. 'Astrum… Red Star. I swear to you, they didn't want to kill Draco. You must believe me.'

'Are you absolutely sure about that?' Hermione asked in firm, insistent tones. Sure, Los Rojos had the chance to kill Draco – and indeed herself – and had chosen not to. But they had also shot Draco with a potentially lethal magic… one which might still kill him.

Miguel lowered his eyelids in assent.

'They've decided he's a pawn and not a player. A decoy… The man from London – he said… he said…' Miguel screwed up his eyes in pain, suddenly unable to continue speaking.

'Said what?' Hermione urged.

Miguel took a deep, wheezy breath, summoning the energy to go on. 'He said they wanted to frighten Draco. To warn him off… and that I was to keep tabs on him – and you, of course – that's all,' he gasped, trembling with the effort of speaking.

'But I fear, Mrs Weasley, I fear there is a greater game afoot, into which we – you, me, maybe even Draco too – have blindly stumbled. The man from London, he fears it's too late…'

'Too late? What for?'

'He said that… that…,' Miguel spluttered, choking on his blood. 'Sorry… I – I…'

He opened his mouth to speak further, but instead of words, dark blood gushed out, streaming down his chin and neck.

'It's okay, Miguel,' Hermione whispered, her throat tight with emotion. 'Everything’s okay…’

However, he was still desperately trying to tell her something, his eyes wide with meaning, as he frantically strained to shape the words he wanted to say with his lips, but was then overcome by a strangulated gurgling, as red bloody froth oozed from his mouth.

He was drowning in his own blood.

'Don't want to die… please don't let me die,' he rasped, clutching her hand so tightly she had to gulp back a cry of pain. He was shaking uncontrollably, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Hermione wanted to reassure him, but the words jammed inside her mouth. So she held him close instead, barely able to suppress the sobs which brimmed up inside of her.

Miguel was now convulsing repeatedly, battling to breathe, but she could feel the strength sapping inexorably away from him. The fight was gradually deserting his body.

'Hermione!' Draco yelled.

He was shouting from the jetty below them.

'Hermione! Where are you?' he cried.

Hermione continued to hold Miguel. 'I'm here,' she murmured softly. 'I'm still here.’ She gently stroked Miguel's hair, which was sticking clammily to his forehead.

Miguel's breathing was increasingly laboured. Long, protracted rattling breathes… which suddenly stilled.

'Hermione?' Draco said, his voice much nearer. He had scrambled back onto the boat and was now standing next to her, holding her wand.

'Oh fuck,' he groaned. He knelt down next to Hermione and Miguel, and placed his hand over Hermione's. He paused for a long moment, then gently tipped Miguel away from her, so that he was lying on his back on the sofa, his eyes staring skywards, blank in death.

They both stared solemnly at Miguel's lifeless body.

'I – I take it Rosario got away,' Hermione eventually said in a constricted, small voice, tears now flowing freely down her face.

Draco nodded, seemingly numbed by what had happened.

'What do we do now?' she whispered.

'I'll deal with him,' Draco said in reassuring tones. 'I know his mother.'

He sighed deeply, and looked at Hermione: a long, lingering look.

'Come here,' he said tenderly, pulling Hermione upwards from the sofa into a close embrace.

Hermione suddenly felt overcome with emotion, bursting into loud, wrenching sobs. She buried her face in Draco's chest, glad of his warmth and closeness.

Draco tilted her chin upwards. 'Everything's going to be alright, Hermione, I promise,' he said in soothing tones, smothering her face in hot, wet kisses, brushing away her tears with his lips.

For a brief moment, she succumbed to the soft, warmth of his mouth gliding across her skin, before harsh reality intervened.

'No, Draco, you can't do that…' she sobbed, tearing herself away from his grasp. 'It isn't right.'

'But it feels right,' he said huskily, his voice cracked with emotion, 'it feels like the most natural thing in the world.'

She turned away from Draco, facing Miguel instead.

The sight of his blood-soaked body sprawled on the plush, red sofa was an obscenity, she thought. Such a tragic waste of a bright, young man's life. And for what?

'Did you see who did it?'

'I think so.' Draco swallowed hard. 'It looked like that Senor Asusto… you know, the guy from the memory?'

'Are you serious?'

'We know he lived in El Calafate… there might be somebody there who remembers him… I think I'll head back to Patagonia, see what I can find out.'

Hermione could feel her heart thumping loudly in her chest. She didn't like the sound of that.

'Can't you wait?' she asked, spinning round to face him. 'Remember you need to see a Mediwizard, and then – and then I could come back, once this bloody stupid Ministry Tribunal's over…' It suddenly felt so small and petty. She could hardly believe she'd ever attached any importance to it at all.

'No, Hermione. Just get yourself home. Safe and sound.'

'What about Ron? He can replace me!' she said urgently. 'It's not right for you to do this alone, Draco.'

'I can manage,' he said, but then a sullen shadow scuttled across his face. 'When are you leaving?'

'Pretty much now. I can Apparate to the airport and Portkey from there,' she said, lips pursed, eyes shining brightly.

She cast a last, lingering glance at Miguel's body slumped on the sofa, and gently prised her wand from Draco's grasp.

'Wait,' he said, tightly enfolding her in his arms, ensuring that he side-Apparated with her, away from the boat and back to the jetty, where Hermione's brown leather suitcase was waiting for its owner. 'You can't just go without saying goodbye.'

He fished his mobile phone out of her pocket and thrust it at her. 'And you need this too.'

She turned the mobile over in her hand, her eyes glazed with tears. 'This has been awful,' she said in a quiet, choked voice. 'Truly, truly awful.' She leant forwards, falling into Draco, and balanced her forehead against his, keenly aware that his mouth was open and inviting, so close to her own, his breathe bathing her lips in luxuriant warmth.

'Please be careful,' she whispered.

'I'll be fine,' he murmured, pulling her closer.

Hermione momentarily allowed herself to melt against him, slipping her arms around his neck.

The consciousness that something huge and undeniable had happened between them during these last few days, weighed heavily inside of her, suffusing every inch of her, robbing her of the ability to think or breath normally.

As much as she knew she had to leave him here, to head home to her family, to the people she loved… at heart, she didn't really want to. At heart, she wanted to give in to the heated impulses raging through her body… so much it hurt.

She hated feeling like this.

She took a deep breath, extricated herself from Draco's arms, and picked up her leather suitcase. It was time to go.

***

CHAPTER TRACK: "BIGGER THAN US" by WHITE LIES

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my original characters

Thanks to Apurva & Lou
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Ring A Ring O' Roses