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How To Train Your Auror	By : Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 7512 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I will not make a profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 22
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- 24
Special shouts to MissPancake again. She never fusses at me for all my blunders. She's always there for me. Thank you, MissPancake. *hearts*
It don't take much for the beast to bolt
A split second too late to bring it to a halt
You're hypnotized, your feet follow your shoes
It's kinda like, a cigarette smokin' you
Take it from me
When you start it's just a matter of time
Any minute you will cross that line
Take it from me
You never think about the price that you pay
Take it from me
It got a mind of its own and it stings
Take it from me
It got a mind of its own and it stings
"Take It From Me" by KONGOS
Cane sits at his desk, scribbling on a bit of parchment as Draco stands over his cauldron, adding the last of his ingredients. There is a tension in the air between them, though to the untrained eye it might have gone easily missed.
"How close are you?" Cane asks, his dark eyes shifting between Draco and the man strapped to a gurney in the corner.
"If my calculations are correct, this should turn blue any moment. Then it will be ready." Draco wipes a bit of sweat off his brow and is relieved when the potion turns a dark navy, like black water. He puts on his dragon hide gloves and sets to work ladling out the potion into tiny vials. Cane smiles as he watches.
"It glows just like the stone."
"No." Draco corrects. "The stone is more of a cobalt. This is-"
"Details, yes, I know." Cane rolls his eyes. "Can we expect results?"
Draco glances down to the unconscious man. "What did he do?"
Cane's silver eyebrows turn up in surprise. "You usually don't like to familiarize yourself with your experiments. Having a change of heart?"
Draco frowns, slipping a vile in between his gloved fingers. "We're close. I'm not changing my tune until I've perfected this."
"Alright." Cane rises from his chair, stalking across the room. His figure is lean - but not as lean as Draco's. It's written all over Draco's body: he hasn't been eating. Stress tugs under his eyes in the form of dark circles. He probably hasn't slept in days. Cane slips a pale hand on Draco's shoulder. "If you must know, he raped two muggles on the far side of London two weeks ago. -At the same time."
Draco gulps. A sweat bead drops from his brow.
"He deserves this," Cane whispers. "He's not worth your sympathy."
Draco nods, glancing down to the covered Mark on his arm. His face is riddled with questions; what makes his poor choices any less deserving of the pain that this man will endure? Yes, Draco has never raped anyone. Violating someone that way… it's despicable. But he had done terrible things in his life. He had come close to killing Dumbledore. He had let Voldemort and his father use him. He had let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. He had cost so many children their lives… Was that not as bad as a rapist?
"Do it," he tells Cane, watching his friend move to the gurney. He pulls the man's sleeve up and presses his wand to it. A mark forms. One with a triangle formed out of four diagonal lines parallel to each other. It's Cane's signature Mark. It's how they test Draco's theories. Cane himself wears the same Mark on the base of his neck, just above the collarbone. But it's just a tattoo, Cane has told him. It isn't a real Mark. Not like the ones that he brands on those he catches.
Draco holds the vile steady, though his hands want to shake, and joins Cane at his side. He's about to slip it into the man's mouth, but he falters. "I… I can't."
"Hmm?"
"I can't do it." Draco closes his eyes. "Every time I do this… it's like I'm tearing out a piece of someone's soul. How long before it's my own?"
"Don't get sentimental on me, Draco. These are criminals."
"So was I."
"Here." Cane conjures up a pair of dragon hide gloves and slips them on. "Give me the potion."
Draco does as he's told and backs away as Cane slips the blue potion into the man's mouth. Moments tick by. Long, painful, drawn out moments that eat away at Draco's soul. He closes his eyes and turns his head when the man suddenly screams out.
"Yes…" Cane hisses through his teeth, watching as the man squirms against his restraints. Draco's not watching, but if he were he'd see the man's eyes shoot open, bloodshot and pupils blown. He's screaming now, and Draco turns his back. He's ashamed. Cane claps his hands. "Draco, come look."
"No."
"You'll want to see this."
Draco turns his head over his shoulder and glances at the Mark. It's faded. Not quite removed, but faded. His entire body swivels on the spot and he stares down at Cane's Mark. "It's…"
"You're so close." Cane pats his friend on the back.
"What about him?" Draco asks. The man has passed out again, most likely from the pain.
"We'll see how he fares when he wakes up."
"You could just bring him back around," says Draco, nudging to a pouch on Cane's belt. He's referring to the sleeping powder. There was a night when Draco had been brave and had analyzed some. He wasn't able to decipher all of its contents, but there were quite a bit of illegal substances in it.
Can tosses the vial into a marked bin and slips the dragon hide gloves off of his hands. He strolls to his desk, pulls out a thick bottle of bourbon and pours Draco a glass. "A toast," he says as he pushes the glass into Draco's hand. "To your progress." They both swig down the alcohol and relish in the burn. Or at least Draco does. He rather enjoys the pain it gives his throat. He's not a masochist - he just thinks he deserves whatever is coming to him.
"Do you have a new toy for me?" Cane asks, setting his glass down on the table.
"Yes." Draco nods, leading Cane out of the room and into another. This one has cauldrons set up on work desks all around it. In the center, on a thick, wooden table sits a box. Cane watches as Draco approaches - it gives off a blue sheen. The closer Draco gets, the more it glows.
"A literal Pandora's box?" Cane muses, chuckling at the creativity.
"It's meant to steal your opponent's energy out of them slowly," Draco says. He waves his hand over the box, and his face grows sallow. Sweat drips down the sides of his temples. He jerks away, already feeling the effects. "In case there's a hostage situation, you can throw the box in and-"
"-It will weaken my opponent." Cane gives a nod of approval. "Quite ingenious."
"If I can pinpoint this on a smaller scale and isolate it," Draco says, his confidence rising. "I might be able to apply it to one single part of the body."
"Like your Mark."
"Like my Mark."
"Brilliant." Cane flashes his white teeth, his eyes darkening. Did Draco ever think he looked like a shark? No. A wolf. A furious, murderous wolf with a silver mane.
"I'm impressed, Draco. You've come a long way in the last three years."
Draco nods. He backs away from the box and rotates his shoulder. It aches, now that the magic has escaped it. One fall off of a broom during Quidditch practice and it's never been the same. It usually only hurts when it's raining, but the Pandora's Box has taken the magical used to numb it. He knows the magic will come back eventually, but he's weary of staying in this room any longer. "Let's leave. I have something I wish to discuss with you."
"Of course." Cane nods, and they retreat back into the first room. The man at the table looks terrible, and Draco sees a bit of blood dripping from his ear.
"Shite." He scrambles across the room and checks the man's pulse. Still beating, but very weak. "He needs to get to a hospital."
"No." Cane shakes his head. "That's too risky. I'll have one of my men tend to him."
"Bastian…" Draco bows his head. "I… I'm going to ask Astoria to marry me."
Cane raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. He watches his friend cross the room and pour himself another glass. He doesn't stop him. He watches Draco down the whole glass in three gulps.
"I love her."
"That's wonderful news," he smirks, though he doesn't sound that enthused. "Will I be invited to the wedding?"
"I'm tired of lying to her," Draco sighs, running his knuckles against the edge of the desk. He's breaking down, and Cane knows it. "She accused me of having a mistress the other night."
"Do you have a mistress?"
"This work is my only mistress."
"And she's a foul one, indeed."
"I can't keep lying to her."
"And you'll tell her what? That you've been experimenting on criminals? I'm sure that will go over quite well with the Missus."
Draco's faces jerks up and glares. "She loves me. And I love her."
"Yes. But you and I both know that she's ashamed of you, to an extent. You've told me as much. Didn't you confide in me that she won't even let you take your shirt off during-"
"-I know she hates this Mark." He rips up his sleeve and presents it. "And I know we're close… I just… don't know what to do."
"Keep progressing. You're on the cusp of greatness!"
Draco pours himself a third glass and pulls from his drink slowly. "You're right."
"I know I am."
"What… is it… exactly that you do with my weapons I utilize for you?"
"I keep them stored for safekeeping. One of these days, I'm going to run the Ministry. Mark my words, Draco. And when I do, I'll implement all that we're doing."
"Yeah?" Draco scoffs. "And how exactly do you plan on running the Ministry, Bastian? With your good looks?"
"I am rather fetching." Cane rubs his chin thoughtfully. They both laugh. When the laughter dies away, Cane's calm demeanor returns. "I love the box, Draco. I do. But when I requested something that could take away magic on a grander scale…"
Draco's eyes narrow unbenounced to him. "What you're asking me to do… replicating the stone's power… you're talking about turning wizards into squibs. Multiple wizards. At the same time. That's a fate worse than death for some."
"Perhaps," Cane's eyes also conformed to slits. "But imagine the power behind it."
"I'd rather not."
"Why are you so against this, Draco?"
"Because it's immoral. And I know that sounds rich coming from me, but there's just some lines even I can't cross."
"Draco-"
"-I'm going home for the evening."
"As you wish."
"And I won't be in tomorrow. I'll be celebrating my engagement with Astoria."
"How are you going to do it?"
"Tori has this thing for bakeries... I thought I might do it over brunch."
"You should put it in the top of her favorite pastry," Cane offers., "It's more romantic that way."
"Not down on one knee?"
"That gets overplayed."
"Maybe you're right." Draco slips off his gloves and picks up his jacket off of the coat rack. "I'll be seeing you, Bastian."
"And I you, Draco."
Potter jerked his head out of the pensieve first, then Draco followed. They stared at each other for a time in Harry's basement. Potter looked like he wanted to say something, but he bit down on his tongue and held it back. Draco's eyes slipped to the floor.
"So…" Potter said finally, "Cane wanted you to build something that could take away magic from an entire room full of wizards?"
Draco shook his head.
"An entire building?"
Again, his head shook.
"A city." Draco turned away. "He wants to take out an entire city. Wipe out all magic."
"Why would he want to do that?"
"How would I know? The sod thought he was going to run the Ministry someday. Maybe he wanted a magical nuke to frighten the masses."
"He never shared his intentions with you?"
"I never wanted to know." Draco pulled his eyes back to Potter's and stared. Silver met green. "I just wanted the ability to remove my Mark. I didn't want to ask questions. I just wanted to keep my head low and work."
"Were there others like you, Malfoy? Others that experimented?"
"Not like me. But there were others."
"Do you know any of their names?"
"No." He shook his head. "I don't."
Potter walked over to a desk in the back corner and drew four diagonal slashes. Cane's mark. "I'll take this into the Ministry. See if there's anyone in the muggle world or wizarding world that is reported to have this on their body."
"So… this helped?"
"Yes, Malfoy. It helped."
Draco smirked.
"And… that's another strike for you…" Greg stared, slack jawed, as the fallen pins were rutted into the space behind the lane. "How are you this good?"
"I told you," Hermione smiled, strolling back up to her chair to mark her strike on the board. "I'm just that talented."
"And apparently I'm not quite as good as I remember," he laughed, looking down at his own score, which was an eighty-seven. It was nothing compared to Hermione's two hundred and forty. "Hermione?"
"Yes, Greg?" Hermione turned her knees towards him. Being out with Diggle had made her apprehensive at first, but he had been a perfect gentleman the entire date. He had held the door open for her, paid for their concessions and shoes, and had even won her a tiny blue bear out of the crane machine in the arcade. If Hermione didn't know Diggle to be an insolent pawn of Cane's, she might have even said it was one of the better dates she'd ever had.
Diggle pried his eyes up from her chest and said, "I am terribly sorry for Thursday."
The duel. Yes, Hermione remembered that quite well. She relaxed her face and tried to put on her best smile. "What do you mean?"
"I know I took it too far with Malfoy," he told her, wringing his hands together, "I just… I don't like the way he looks at you, you know?"
"How does he look at me?"
"Frankly?" He clicked his tongue. "Like he wants to bed you."
The blush on Hermione's cheeks was quite real as she widened her eyes. "What?"
"Surely you must have realized by now?" Diggle asked. "He's practically drooling from the moment you walk into the room."
She couldn't deny it without coming off as insincere, so she said, "Interestingly enough, he's said the same thing about you."
"Has he?"
"Isn't it strange how you both dislike each other, but not one of you has considered what my feelings are?"
"And what are your feelings, Hermione?" He was staring at her quizzically. It was almost adorable, like a man who simply wanted an answer. And perhaps he was at this moment.
"I'm not sure," she answered him., "You broke my friend's hand in a fist brawl." She decided to be daring. "I've never seen that sort of spell before. The one you used on Draco's hand."
Diggle shifted an eyebrow. "Haven't you?"
"No. And if I didn't know any better…" She played her role well; part coy, part entranced. "I'd say… oh this is silly of me… I just… was it Gray Magic?"
Greg's green eyes blinked back at her. She could see his façade slip momentarily. "Gray Magic, Miss Granger?"
"It's just this silly thing I read about in a book once." She glanced down at her fingers. "You know. In the restricted section of Hogwarts."
"I see…"
"I've never dabbled in it. There's not many books that even cover it, but… I've always found the allure of it… stimulating." She brought her eyes back up to his and reached out to touch his knee. He tensed. "I mean, someone who could perform something like that… well… I've always had a fantasy…"
"Really, now?" Greg scooted closer, hanging just barely off his chair. "And in this fantasy…?"
"I shouldn't say." She acted bashful, placing a hand on her cheek. Greg reached out and placed his hand on top of hers, sliding it up his knee just a little.
"And if I said it was?"
"Grey magic, you mean?"
Diggle nodded. "Hypothetically, of course."
"Well," She leaned closer, the bowling game forgotten. "I suppose I would find it… very… arousing." She pushed her shoulder blades together - something Ginny had taught her when they were back in Hogwarts. Her chest puffed out, and Diggle's eyes grazed over her creamy skin. "Wouldn't you agree, Greg?"
He licked his bottom lip. "Quite."
He leaned forward, slipping a hand on Hermione's knee. She moved to jerk away, but caught herself and stayed put. She had him so close to confessing to something. She just needed to be patient. His breath smelled like peppermint as he brought his face inches from hers. But he wasn't chewing gum this time. He simply smelled like it. Her nose tingled.
"Hermione… if I let you in on a secret, would you keep it?"
She smiled. "Of course, Greg. Anything."
"I've got some… books… back at my place…" He touched her nose with his nose, his fingers tightening around her leg. Hermione wondered what they must look like to the rest of the bowling alley. Probably like a couple of trashy twenty somethings who were ready to fornicate on bowling lane number ten. "They belonged to a friend of mine. I think… you'd find them… stimulating." He brushed his lips across Hermione's, and for a split second her eyes fluttered closed. There was something about the way he was touching her, something about the way his lips felt across her skin that made her want to kiss him back. Her eyes went wide and she jerked away. Greg Diggle raised an eyebrow, but didn't react otherwise as he sat back up straight again.
"How did you…?" She stared at him and touched her fingertips to her lips.
"How did I what?"
"You… you made me want to kiss you." She frowned. How was that possible? Hermione didn't doubt her feelings. The moment she had jerked away, she wanted nothing more to do with him. So how had he coaxed her into feeling a moment of attraction?
"Hermione, I didn't make you do anything." He laughed. "Whatever you're feeling - that was because you wanted to."
She stood up. "I wish to go home now, Greg."
"Hermione-"
"Now."
"Alright." Diggle stood up and slipped his coat over her shoulders. "Alright, Hermione. Whatever you want." He paid their tab and walked her out to his car. As he opened the door and Hermione climbed inside, she felt a bit of herself slip. She could still feel the tingle on her lips. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. And she didn't want to stick around to find out why.
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How To Train Your Auror