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The Spy Game	By : kstargal Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 8717 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I do not own JK Rowling's Harry Potter Universe or Characters. I also unfortunately dont make any money from this either!

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Hermione groggily opened her eyes; pain flaring momentarily in her left temple. Intense white light greeted her, making her wince; so she shut them again almost instantly. Moaning she tried to move; but found herself tied up, feet and hands to a chair. Crap. She then remembered Timothy’s gleeful look as she stood in the corridore. How stupid was she? Blatantly standing there thinking about Malfoy, when what she should have been doing was her job. She deserved to be caught. But the smack to the head was uncalled for.

“Ms Granger; so nice to see you awake.” Franklin’s deep drawl ensured her eyes snapped open, and stay open this time.

Timothy stood to one side watching her with slitted eyes; the perfect subordinate. She glared up at them both; then spat. She felt smug satisfaction watching her saliva slide down Franklin’s cheek; until Timothy hit her across the face. Pain ricocheted through her head, but the sting was worth it. She tried struggling again, yet her bindings didn’t give an inch. Things were not looking particularly good.

“So, Mr Malfoy has enlightened you with his side of the situation then, has he?” Franklin took a pristine white linen hanker-chief from his pocket, and proceeded to wipe her spit from his face. He was still dressed in his expensive suit; she hoped she would get the chance to rip it later – whilst slamming his face into the ground.

“You’re a traitor to the country, to the wizarding world, and to me.” Hermione was dismayed to hear her voice crack on the last word. She had thought the world of Franklin. Beside’s Marcus, he was the one she looked up to for guidance. It was heartbreaking to have been betrayed - once again. She began to wonder if she had a neon sign on her forehead which read ‘gullible’.

“Yes, but so are you, my dear.” Franklin gave her a smile which would have looked perfectly at home on a coyote who was about to attack his prey.

“Not by intention, no-one in the tribunal would believe I willingly stole documents for other governments.” Hermione’s chest heaved with the conviction she placed on her words.

Franklinjust smiled at her; then walked over to Timothy. They spoke in hushed voices for a moment; frustratingly she couldn’t make out any words. Looking around she noticed she was in a medium sized room, and Camille was nowhere in sight. Hermione needed to get loose and find her. She also wondered whether Draco had managed to retrieve the second file. Now she was caught, Hermione was glad he’d insisted on leaving her file at the hotel. She didn’t want to leave something so important in a hotel safe, but in hindsight it was the best place for it. No-one knew they had stayed there.

Timothy left the room a second later, a steely expression in his eyes. Hermione wondered where he was going; hoping it wasn’t to finish Camille off. Before she could put a plan into thought, Franklin spun back towards her. Pulling up a chair, he pushed it against her knees and straddled it; then leant in. This brought his face inches away from hers. It took all of her willpower not to flinch away from him. He didn’t deserve a reaction of any kind, yet it was hard to stay still.

“Everyone will believe it. I have been working on this for eight years now. Do you not think; that this was all part of my plan?” His eyes narrowed and he leant in even closer to her. For a panicked moment, Hermione thought he was going to kiss her. Thankfully he just sneered instead, he was trying to intimidate her – it was working. “The last puzzle piece is about to fall into place. When it does – you will die, and you will die a traitor to your country.”

Hermione gasped at his words. Her mind went into over-drive, trying to figure out what exactly Franklin was trying to achieve. For once in her life she came up completely blank. Not one thing she could think of would warrant such an elaborate set-up.

“Why?” Is all she managed to articulate through dry lips.

“Why else, Miss Granger? For money and power of course.” Franklin stalled and smiled slyly at her, making her skin crawl. “Did I mention - it’s a lot of money?”

“So you would frame innocent witches and wizards and kill countless others, just for riches?”

“Yes, though not everyone is as innocent as you think.” He arched an eyebrow at her and chuckled when she frowned. “I believe you need to have a small chat with one Draco Malfoy before you condemn me into being the only bad guy in this piece.”

“Tell me then.” Hermione ground out. She had managed to loosen the ties on her hands slightly. Twisting her little finger she slipped it through the binding. She should be able to get a hand free soon. Her heart hammered hard in her chest; adrenaline, disbelief and hurt kick-starting her survival instinct.

“Oh no, I will not tell another’s secrets. I’ll give you one clue though; ask him about Marcus’s death.”

Hermione stopped her wriggling; what did Malfoy have to do with Marcus? She was instantly transported back to the small bedroom where she held Marcus as he died. He had whispered Draco’s name, hadn’t he? Was he trying to tell her who was responsible? No, she wouldn’t believe Franklin’s lies. Marcus had said it was a creature, didn’t he? Or was he that pained and disorientated, that a small glamour would have worked on him? Draco had also suspiciously turned up moments later. Crap, this is exactly what Franklin wanted – doubt. She pushed it aside, noticing that it didn’t disappear, it stayed close.

Franklin, knowing he had obtained his objective slid the chair back and stood in one motion. Looking down at her he smiled lazily. “I always thought you to be very smart, Hermione. However, I managed to pull the wool over your eyes for six years. You were a very competent double agent; Shade was impressed with your good work. Don’t despair, your involvement only cost the lives of no more than thirty people.”

Red filled Hermione’s vision; there was nothing left but blind hatred for the man standing in-front of her. With a war cry to rival any tribesman she leapt to her feet; the chair legs snapping in her anger. Vaguely, Hermione felt thankful they had placed her on an old worn creaky seat.

Franklin’s face was comically surprised as she leapt for him. Rope burned her wrist as it tightened - she hardly noticed. Hermione wanted to see Franklin in pain – needed to see him hurt for what he had done to her and the other’s she’d loved.

Slamming herself into his chest, she heard Franklin’s grunt as he lost his balance. Hermione ripped her left hand out of the bindings; making a sharp burn run up her arm. She knew a few layers of skin had been sacrificed, but didn’t care. All she cared about was the pain she could inflict on Franklin. Hers was secondary.

Hermione felt her nails dig into the soft skin of his cheek, his roar of pain filled her head. She smiled at the sound; it was music to her ears. Franklin managed to get his leg up high, and kicked Hermione off of him. She flew backwards, but managed to right herself almost instantly. She truly adored the rush of a fist fight. This one was much more intense though - due to the hatred of Franklin burning through her.

Taking a step forward, Hermione pulled back her arm quickly, and punched Franklin square in the stomach. He doubled over almost immediately, so she slammed her elbow onto the back of his neck. Before she could aim her knee into Franklin’s nose, the hard point of a wand pressed into her back. Growling, she took a step away.

Timothy stood behind her; a feral look rivalling hers overtook his features. She didn’t even hear him come back into the room – her focus was so intent on Franklin. Hermione spun to the left fast enough to startle him, and ended up standing behind him; but he was quick. He threw his elbow backwards, catching her off guard and hitting her in the ribs. She heard a sickening crack then felt a sharp piercing pain flash through her chest. He’d broken a rib – or more. Taking a huge breath in, Hermione found her lungs not punctured; she could still breathe. She was good to take him on. Placing the hurt in a deep recess of her mind, she punched Timothy in the kidneys as hard as she could. She lacked strength due to her busted ribs, but he still grunted and staggered a little.

Franklinwas still flailing around on the ground, holding his neck. She must have put more power than she realised into it. Smirking with pleasure, she missed Timothy’s next move.

Within an instant Hermione was flat on her back, a wand pressed menacingly into her neck. Trying to swallow she found, was more difficult than breathing. Timothy looked down at her, his eyes resembling a demon. There was an edge of crazy in them which she couldn’t look away from. She knew she couldn’t kick him off – he was just too big.

“You think you’re so good. You’re pathetic.” Timothy spat at her, making her flinch. “Even Isabelle put up more of a fight.”

Hermione blanched. Timothy had killed Isabelle – the next logical conclusion was that he also killed Marcus. Hermione put everything into trying to get free. She writhed like a mad woman, spat, yelled and bucked, he didn’t move an inch. Instead he just pressed a hand onto her sternum and pushed. The bastard knew he’d hurt her before. Hermione gurgled in agony – her lungs were about to explode.

Next minute, Timothy was flung from her body as if a huge bird had picked him up and spirited him away. He slumped in the corner – knocked completely out. Grasping her ribs in one hand she looked up and saw Draco striding towards her – a wand clasped in his fingers. Kneeling next to her he tenderly cupped her head.

“Are you okay?” His eyes searched her face, wincing when he saw the bruise she knew must have formed within the last few minutes. She couldn’t help but wonder if her cheek was broken too - it hurt that much. He shook her slightly when she didn’t answer.

“My ribs, arms and face.” He looked mortified, so she smiled – then grimaced when her chest pulsed in sharp pain. “I’m okay; a healing charm should cover it; if we ever find a wand which works.”

Draco grinned and held up the wand in his hand. “I found it in the vault – it was one my father confiscated when I was fifteen. I just bought another at Ollivanders. I forgot all about it.”

“Isn’t this sweet? Don’t move a muscle, Mr Malfoy. I have a wand trained at your back. Move an inch and you lose your head.” Franklin cautiously climbed to his feet, rubbing his neck. “This is too perfect, you’re both here. I wasn’t going to action my plan just yet – but opportunities like this are rare. And if I’m anything, it’s resourceful.”

“Franklin.” Draco’s voice was as cold as ice, and dripped in venom. “Your beef is with me – let Granger go.”

“I don’t believe so. I think she deserves to hear what you’ve done – how you got her into this mess in the first place.”

Hermione’s eyes drifted between the two of them. Draco looked white as a sheet and Franklin was way too smug. An ache filled her chest – and it had nothing to do with her ribs. Draco looked around and straight into her eyes. The startling deep silver made his face appear even paler.

“Granger, whatever he say’s. Remember I’m your partner – you just need to trust me.” His eyes almost pleaded with her. She swung her gaze back to Franklin, he was smiling broadly. Christ, this had a foreboding feeling, and she wanted to stop it.

“Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy.” Franklin mocked. “You’re not her partner – Camille is. You’re the one who removed Camille from the equation so Granger had to go to extreme measures to garner help.”

Wide eyed, Hermione snapped her gaze back to Draco’s face. The look on it told her everything she needed to know. “You kidnapped Camille?” Her voice was quiet in the room.

“Hermione, not exactly - I didn’t hurt her – I swear. I don’t know how she ended up here.” His fist grabbed her forearm and squeezed, trying to convey his thoughts. She wasn’t listening to his body language. She ripped her sore wrist from his touch. Draco’s eyes shut momentarily; then he spun on Franklin.

“Tell the truth you fucking arsehole. Tell her I did it for her own good – tell her why it was necessary.” Draco’s voice bellowed in its ferociousness.

She didn’t want to hear anymore, her heart was shattering into nothingness. She felt numb and destroyed. She had trusted him against her own gut feeling – and now it seemed everything she had thought of him was true. Tears prickled, yet she refused to let them fall. Her feelings for Malfoy had grown – grown into something she dared not name yet. Now the sharp dig of deceit replaced it. He deserved an Academy Award for his performance. She had truly believed him and his protestations of innocence.

“The truth…well, that’s a concept your unfamiliar with, isn’t it, Draco? How long have you been on the run for? How long have lies and deceit been your only friends?” Franklin’s voice still mocked; Hermione was hardly listening. She was just trying to breathe normally.

“You’re the monster here, Franklin, not me. No matter what you get Granger to believe, everything I have done is for her greater good. To protect her, keep her safe…” Draco trailed off as she grabbed his wrist tightly.

“What about Marcus?” Hermione had no idea why she wanted to know. She was addled in the head obviously. Ignoring the look of glee from Franklin, she gazed up into Draco’s lying face.

She had never seen someone so pallid - so hesitant. It made her stomach drop even further. Franklin’s laugh resounded around them, making her feel foolish and bereft.

“Yes, Draco, tell her how you killed him for the file. The file you couldn’t retrieve because Hermione showed up. Although it didn’t matter much did it? In the end you managed to come up with a better plan. Help her escape, then earn her trust and steal it from her.”

Hermione stared into Draco’s eyes for the longest moment. She saw a glimmer of denial, but before she knew it, he’d shut his grey eyes against her and sighed, shoulders sagging. She almost vomited; bile burned the back of her throat.

Draco didn’t say a single word to exonerate himself. He said nothing, just sat on his haunches in-front of her, watching her closely. Inching away from him, Hermione tried standing. She wheezed against her broken ribs, Draco leant forward to help her and she flinched from his touch. His hands dropped heavily back to his sides. She couldn’t even meet his eyes. She didn’t want to see any more lies.

Franklincould have killed them by now, a hundred times over. But for some sick reason, he was egging them on; why she didn’t know. Maybe he liked playing with his prey before devouring them.

Before Hermione could blink, Draco bellowed out at the top of his lungs; throwing himself at Franklin. Sparks flew every-which way as curses were bandied about, each wand trying to aim for the other. One spell hit the overhead light and the room was plunged into darkness. Sparks of blue and green danced off the white walls. It was now or never. Hermione found the door and fled, leaving Draco to his fate with Franklin. She pushed aside the voice of reason which knocked on her conscience. It demanded she help Draco, even after all she’d learnt about him. Her conscience was easy to ignore – her heart was a different story.

Luck was finally shining down on her, and it only took four doorways until she found a groggy, yet awake Camille. Running to the chair she untied her partner.

“Hermione, what, why…where the hell am I?” Camille’s voice was no more than a whisper, Hermione then saw a line of bruising across her throat. Clenching her fists, she knew she desperately needed to hit somebody – and soon.

“Shhh honey, I’ll explain everything later. I need to get you out of here. Malfoy kidnapped you and I’m here to save you.” Hermione felt tears finally well. Wiping her eyes quickly she pulled Camille to her feet. How she was supposed to get a semi-conscious woman out of a stronghold was beginning to look like a problem.

“Malfoy…as in Draco…no he didn’t do...”

“It’s okay Camille. Later.” Hermione cut her off. She couldn’t explain what had happened. Not now, and not without losing it. “Follow me, can you walk?”

Camille nodded; then winked. “I think I could manage to smoke a few bad guys even.”

Hermione smiled and almost laughed, until her ribs flared up again. Grabbing Camille’s hand she pulled her into the hallway. Run-walking most of the way proved a good plan; they saw nobody – until they reached the garden.

Out of nowhere a masked man ran straight for them. Hermione pushed Camille behind her and looked wildly around for anything she could use for a weapon. Spying a rake a few metres away, she made a beeline for it. The guard caught her before she could grab it. Thankfully he didn’t know about her injury. They each landed a few good blows on each other, Hermione managing to keep the fight on her right side, the one furthest from her wrist and ribs.

Within a second Camille was behind the guard, brandishing a huge pot-plant. How she picked it up was a feat in itself, let alone in her weakened condition. Camille smashed it against the man’s skull; he dropped to his knees, so Hermione kicked him in the back. He fell and stayed down. They got one smile in to each other, before another two guards ran them down.

“Shit…Camille, left side – now!” Hermione’s voice echoed off the verandah they were under. She saw Camille following her order.

Camille flew out and past one of the guards. She managed to run up the wall of the Manor for three steps, then swung back around kicking him in the face. Hermione almost stopped to gasp at the move – she would never underestimate adrenaline again. They had practised the move in the gym at The Firm, but never had it been utilised. The second guy kicked out and swept Hermione from her feet. The breath left her sore lungs in a rush, but she rolled to the side before his boot came down – just where her chest was. She didn’t want to imagine the pain if he had of connected.

Hermione spun herself up onto her knees and punched out, hitting her attacker in the groin. She smile wryly, it was a dirty tactic, yet had worked twice this week. She may need to rethink her morals. He fell heavily – grasping his boys tightly and groaning.

Grabbing Camille’s proffered hand, Hermione stood up. She noticed the slight hitch in her breathing straight away, it was getting worse. Her entire body screamed at her, it was ready to collapse in on itself.

“I know a way off the property, grab any wands these bozo’s have, and let’s go.” They enlightened their attackers of weapons and fled across the expansive grounds.

Thankfully, Hermione didn’t have any time to think about what might have happened to Draco. Her every step pained her greatly and half dragging a now exhausted Camille; began to take its toll. Grimly she hoped that Timothy hadn’t installed a group of dogs on his property. If she heard a call of ‘release the dog’s’ she’d just fall to her knees and wait for them.

They soon found the small hole in the fence which she and Draco came through. It wasn’t hooked up to the magical security system, they’d get out undetected. Camille stood for a second holding her stomach.

“God, I’m unfit – I have a stitch…” Her voice trailed into nothing as she hit the ground in an exhausted faint.

For the second time that night, Hermione really wanted to yell out a swear word. But, the thought of why she’d sworn in the first place was like a slap of cold water on her face. She had let Draco… no, now was escape time – regret and self-loathing could come later.

Hefting Camille up into a sitting position, Hermione grabbed a wand and hoped like hell it would Apparate them to the hotel – she had to get the file before Draco or Franklin.

Within a minute they were in the small modest room; Hermione looked at Draco’s rumpled bed; then at her neatly made one. They were chalk and cheese; there was no way it would’ve worked out – even if he wasn’t a lying, murdering son of a bitch. Swallowing the suddenly ever constant lump in her throat, she headed over to the wall safe.

The combination was a simple one - they’d decided to use their first mission date. The door swung open and Hermione was looking into an empty chasm. Dropping her head into her hands took up the next minute of her life, as she counted her breaths – in and out. She then looked back at the unconscious form of Camille propped up at the end of one of the beds. At least she had her partner and best friend back. Although she was eternally grateful for her safe return, the loss of the file still left a sour taste in Hermione’s mouth.

Draco must have escaped Franklin, and beaten them back to the hotel moments earlier. The thought he may still be around spurred her into action.

Grabbing her measly amount of belongings in a worn rucksack, she grasped Camille’s arm and Apparated them to a small bed and breakfast Hermione had used when in a bind. The owners, Poppy and Graeme knew her parents well and never asked questions about their sometimes scruffy daughter. They were like a second family she could always depend on. The Firm had no idea of their existence.

Thankfully Poppy was still up, she took one look at the bruised and battered bodies of the two women and immediately pulled them into the warmth of her home. Poppy knew better than to ask any questions, though Hermione saw them burning in her eyes. She owed so much to this family, and gave hardly anything in return. One day she vowed, she would do something to rectify the situation.

Hermione ensured Camille was taken care of first. She was almost a dead weight, yet Poppy and herself managed to bathe her and dress her in a long cotton nightgown, before placing her on a soft bed. Poppy fussed over her a moment before turning a critical eye on Hermione.

“Can I get you anything, Hermione?” Poppy’s face was full of understanding and affection. It was proving too much for Hermione to take at the moment.

“No thankyou, you’ve done wonders, I’ll just shower. I’ll see you down at breakfast.” Hermione’s voice didn’t waver in the slightest, and she was proud of her resilience. Poppy smiled and left her alone; promising the breakfast of kings. Hermione tiptoed over to the bed and took a moment to watch the steady breathing Camille emitted. She was thankful beyond belief her best friend was still alive.

Walking over to her small rucksack, she pulled out a clean t-shirt and saw something fall to the floor. For a split second she thought it was the file, it was the same shape and size. Yet, on closer inspection she saw it was the miniaturised version of Hogwarts A History she’d taken from Spud’s. Hermione thought she’d lost it in the scuffle at the alley. Draco must have picked it up and slipped it in her bag, knowing how much she’d wanted it. Dropping it back onto the bag, she grabbed her toiletries.

Stoically she made her way to the bathroom, not stumbling once. Opening the door she snuck inside and clicked it shut; then locked it behind her. Leaning against the oak door, she allowed herself the concession of sliding down onto the floor – exhausted beyond anything she’d ever felt. Only then, once alone, did she allow herself to cry – only then did she allow herself to feel.

*****A/N: Thanks so much for the people who have read this so far! A special thanks go out to pigtails5, Sam, InLoveWithLove and Recordkeeper for reviewing! Thanks so much for letting me know what you think - it means a lot to me! And makes me smile like a loon!!! :D
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The Spy Game