Desperately Seeking Draco

Desperately Seeking Draco
By Augurey
Chapter Two: Breaking Away

She absolutely hated the way he looked at her like that. He was hunched over with his elbows on his knees; his fingers knotted together, his eyes focused on hers. She had finished explaining at least four minutes ago, and he had yet to make a sound. At this point, even blinking would be an affective form of communication.

Hermione was feeling quite emotional. She had quit her job and left it behind. That job had been a huge part of her life; it was what she did best. Now it was gone.

Facing Harry and telling him her plans was so different from thinking about telling him. Her eyes were watery and her hands were shaking. The silence was, at best, agonising.

“Harry, Please-“

He held up a hand and looked out the window dramatically.

“Surely you must understand this,” she said quietly. “Please, please don’t turn on me now. I need you to understand.”

He seemed to be having trouble deciding what to do. One moment, his mouth was open, as if to speak, and the next, his lips pursed in protest. He stood and walked to the window. He couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes.

“I-I could never turn on you, Hermione,” said Harry very slowly. “I would never turn on you.”

“Then you do understand?”

“I have to admit, I don’t,” his voice was stony, his eyes trained on the horizon. “I understand why you want to do it… in general, but not now. It’s an awful sodding plan, if you ask me. You don’t know where he is yet… you don’t know how to find him. You haven’t the slightest clue about what you’re going to do when you-“

“Oh but I do,” she cried. “I know where he is, Harry. Or I will. I found it! I found it last night!”

Harry turned to look at her but instead found he was looking at an empty room. Then, he heard Hermione’s voice from the small library to the side of the sitting room.

“I found this book in the library,” called Hermione, suddenly sounding confident as she tore through the books. She returned to Harry with a large, dusty book open to a specific page. “It’s a counter spell for fidelius, or the dark version. It’s very, very old.”

“This is ridiculous. How could this be real?” asked Harry, a concerned look upon his face. “If you know about this, how did the Death Eaters not use this back in my parents’ time?”

“I don’t know. It was in the Restricted Section,” replied Hermione. She looked up at Harry, hoping – no – praying that he would approve. If only he would just let her go. She had a feeling she was about to lose her nerve. “I’ve got to find him, Harry.”

Harry moaned loudly, “Hermione! He isn’t your responsibility. This was ages ago that you saw him. What if it wasn’t even him? What if you saw the wrong wizard?”

“I know what I saw! He’s innocent,” shrieked Hermione, who was rather agitated by Harry’s lack of faith. It was bad enough that Viola and her now ex-colleagues didn’t seem to be able to trust her judgement. This was Harry, her best friend for far too long to count and a man she had loved for the better part of her life.

“What makes you so sure of all this?”

“Believe me, darling,” she begged. “Please, please believe me. Please believe me and let me go!”

“My believing you isn’t going to make it all right, Hermione.”

“I don’t need it to be all right,” said Hermione. “I need you to let me go. I can’t go unless you say. I won’t walk out on you, I can’t.”

“I love you, I don’t want you to go on some wild goose chase to find my childhood nemesis and save his life!” Harry raised his voice. He set down the book and walked Hermione to the couch. There was one tear sliding down her cheek, and he wiped it away quickly. He cupped her cheeks with his hands delicately and smiled.

“I want you to be happy. I want you to be safe, and I want you to be alive. That’s all that matters to me,” he said softly.

Hermione, who had been reduced to tears only moments ago, was beginning to feel rather foolish for thinking she was going to be able to make an easy out. After all, she reasoned inwardly, this was Harry. Nothing is ever easy with Harry.

She wouldn’t be talked out of it so easily, though.

“I can’t just give up on this,” Hermione said strongly.

“I don’t think I have anything to say that you want to hear,” resigned Harry. “Tell me there’s nothing I can do to change your mind, and I’ll let it be.”

She felt almost sick when he sat back on the couch, crossed his arms, and watched her apprehensively. It was much worse, though, when she saw the look on his face as she said, “There’s nothing you can do to change my mind. I’m sorry.”

“All right, then,” said Harry, as he took up a new fascination with the knots in his hardwood floor.

“I love you.”

He furrowed his brow in thought, and didn’t look up. “I love you.”

Hermione stood up, looked around the room, and then back at Harry. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“There’s something for you,” he said. “On my desk in the room. Go ahead and take it, but don’t open it until later.”

She nodded and went about gathering some things from the room. When she returned, Harry was still looking at the floor, twiddling his thumbs with a terribly sad look upon his face. Her hand was on the door when he called for her to stop. He crossed the room in only a few strides, and pulled Hermione into his arms.

Hermione was incredibly happy about this, and she wrapped her arms around him, inhaling the familiar scent, enjoying the lovely feeling of being so close to him.

“Merlin, Harry, how dramatic you’ve become,” she giggled into his chest. He laughed in return and pulled back a little.

“I just wanted you to know I’ll miss you. Don’t get hurt. Be careful. Owl me if you need anything…”

“Yes, yes, I know! Please, Harry. You aren’t my father. I can take care of myself.”

“Of course,” said Harry, kissing her forehead lightly. “All right. I’m done being overbearing and protective. You had better hurry up and leave before things get worse.”

She kissed him thoroughly and was out the door before he could say another word.

--

“Last chance, Finch.”

Jonathan Finch shoved the last of his galleons across the table and glared up at the man across from him. In one swift movement, the man shoved all the money into a bag beside the table and tied it shut. It all seemed rather rehearsed to Jonathan, but he considered for a moment how many dark wizards had been here. There were too many familiar names to be ignored.

“It’s done, then,” said Finch, who was about to break out in a nervous sweat. “You’ll give up the location?”

“We might need a little more from you first,” the man sneered. His voice was raspy and deep. It left little to the imagination. You hardly wanted him to take off the hood that covered his dark face.

“A… a little more? I-I-I thought you said that was all!”

“This isn’t a game. We’re not doing this for you,” he said from under his cloak. “Give and take, Finch. What else can you give us? How can we be sure you’re going to pull this off?”

He practically squeaked. “I... I have someone on the inside,” he sputtered. “Deep undercover. She has tons of documents that only Ministry officials can see. Access to high-profile searches and things like that.”

The man looked at him curiously, while grasping the moneybag in his massive hand. He wanted more.

“I think I’d be willing to negotiate the terms,” Finch said confidently. “Just give me a little time to converse with my boss.”

--

It was almost noon when Hermione Apparated into the entrance hall of her flat. There was a strong smell of warm bread and soup. When she turned to go into the kitchen, however, Ron seemed to be coming out to greet her, and they ran right into each other.

“Hermione,” said Ron, who was rubbing his nose. “Nice to see you, too!”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. The look on Ron’s face was priceless.

“Sorry, Ron. I didn’t mean to! I smelled the food and I was anxious to see if you’d share.”

Ron smiled and went back to the cooker to finish stirring the soup. Hermione sat down at the table and watched him pull a large loaf of bread out of the cooker. When he turned around again, he had a plate of warm bread straight out of the oven and a bowl of soup. He set them both in front of Hermione.

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I live here, Ron,” Hermione scoffed at him and took a bite of bread.

“You might as well live with Harry,” he said bitterly, while sitting at the table. “Did you two have a row?”

She paused. What was he talking about? “Oh! Right! No, Harry and I haven’t argued or anything. What’s wrong with me being in my own flat?”

“You’re always with him!”

Hermione looked crossly at Ron, then pushed the bowl of soup away and leaned in towards him. “I’m leaving, Ron. I’m finally going.”

Ron knew all about Hermione’s plan. She had been working on it for ages. She was still at the flat with Ron all the time when it had first begun. He had helped her research – against his will – too many times to count.

“Where are you going?”

“I think I know where Draco is.”

Hermione had a wild smile on her face. It was obvious she was probably over excited about the whole thing. Then again, why shouldn’t she be? She had been looking for him for the past five years, with barely any hope and barely any evidence as to where he went.

“How’d you find him?” Ron inquired, suddenly dropping his spoon. He watched intently as she explained the Profero Latibulum spell, and how it worked. Ron sometimes felt rather dumb in the presence of Hermione, who seemed to know everything. But, when it really came down to it, she was also the only one who could make something like spells seem interesting. He could hardly blink.

She trailed off eventually, and Ron’s mind was still racing. His face was quickly turning pink.

“You can’t just go chase after him, Hermione!” Ron insisted, “what if this is all a big ruse to kidnap you?”

“Why would anyone want to kidnap me?” she squeaked. “Ronald Weasley, you know very well how long I’ve been looking for Malfoy! Who on earth would lead me on like that for so long? No one! I’m not stupid, Ron, and I’m not weak.”

“I wasn’t implying that,” he began. She managed to cut him off quickly.

“This isn’t about what you implied. Why is it neither you nor Harry seems to understand this? What is it that’s so hard for you to get?” she asked angrily as she crossed her arms.

“I understand, I really do,” he said with a grin. “Have you really thought this through? When did you decide to leave?”

“Right after I quit my job,” she stated in a cold tone. “Please spare me the lecture, because I didn’t quit my job for no reason. I was being treated unfairly!”

“I don’t doubt that your action was justified. I know you wouldn’t quit for no reason,” said Ron. Hermione rolled her eyes. He continued anyway. “I’m positive Harry is just worried. Won’t you take one of us along?”

“I have to do this alone! Can’t you get that through your skull?”

“Take a moment to look at this from our perspective, Herm. You come to the both of us out of the blue and tell us that you’re leaving. You’re going away to find Malfoy – someone who used to call you a Mudblood, among other things – and tormented the three of us as often as he could. I don't even want to try to talk about his family or what he's done. You don’t exactly know where you’re going, but you think you have it right. You want to leave today. Tell me it makes sense that we’re worried.”

“That’s all water under the bridge,” she reasoned. “Look, it’s not as though I’ve forgotten everything he said to us in school. It’s not as though I’m going to run off and never come back. What’s done is done, Ron. I’ve spent five years of my life searching for him. Now you tell me why I shouldn’t be able to go … alone.”

“You’re right, this is your battle,” said Ron. “That doesn’t make it okay for you to go alone. Take anyone! Just please don’t go alone. I’m begging you.”

Hermione thought about it for a moment, but couldn’t bare the thought of dragging Ron around, or even Harry for that matter. It was easiest when she could do it her way. Everyone always had to argue with her, and she was always doing it wrong to someone else. For once, she was going to be in charge, and alone. No questions, no problems, just smooth sailing all the way.

“It isn’t up for discussion, Ron,” she said firmly, and stood up. “I’m going today, and I’m going alone. Don’t patronise me by telling me I should have someone along. You should know by now I’m well over the standard level of self-sufficiency. I don’t need a man to help me, and I certainly don’t need a woman. Malfoy will be all I can handle if I find him.”

“Why are you saying ‘if’ when you’re so sure?”

“I don’t want to get my hopes up, and I don’t want to let myself down.”

Hermione waved to Ron and left to gather her things. She could still hear Ron shouting “Hermione!” from the kitchen. Some things are easy to ignore after thirteen years, and Ron’s whinging was on the top of her accomplished list.

He caught up with her when she was digging through her closet for her old broom.

“Hermione, be reasonable,” Ron encouraged her. “True, you’ve been working on this for years, but this quick decision is far too rash for my taste.”

“This from the man who married an American Muggle in the middle of the desert,” Hermione said pointedly. “Don’t tell me not to be rash when you are the king of impulsive and imprudent choices.”

“That’s so unfair!” he raised his voice. “You know I was totally smashed, Hermione.”

“How does that justify it?” she questioned, standing up with a pair of boots in one hand and her most comfortable pair of trousers. “Drunk or not; you made the choice, you married the muggle.”

“This isn’t about me, this is about you.”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” she said, throwing all the things she had picked up into a small bag she had enchanted to be large enough for her clothing and some food. “The only reason you don’t want me to go is because you are worried, ergo, it’s about you. Like it or not, you’re not responsible for me. Neither is Harry, for that matter.”

Hermione had felt very strongly about the situation and had pulled through very well. Until now, she hardly thought about Harry. She hadn’t even considered that maybe they were right to worry, and maybe they were right to warn her. She was more than stung by her own words.

“We just want you to come back alive, Hermione, that’s all.” He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a quick squeeze, then made her turn to him. “Do you know how much I care about you, Hermione? Sometimes I wonder. Right now, I don’t think you realise at all. I need you, and so does Harry. We can’t have you running off and getting yourself killed over a prat like Malfoy.” He kissed her cheek, wiped away a tear that had just fallen, and then pulled her into a hug.

“I know,” she said, throwing her arms around him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry that I’m leaving. I’ll be fine, though.” She pulled away and smiled. “I’ll be back in a few days, this isn’t going to kill me, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he whispered into her ear. “Just tell me you’ll try to keep yourself in one piece.”

“I promise.”

For a while, they stayed there together, and didn’t bother to speak. The silence was so peaceful for them, as they fought so often. If they weren’t fighting, one or both of them was talking. It was hard to find moments like this.

“You need a broom,” he mentioned as they pulled away from each other finally. “You’ll take mine.”

“Thank you, Ron. I love you, you goon.”

Ron gave her a brilliant smile. “I love you too, kid.”

--

This was it, the moment she had been waiting for. For so long she had dreamt about it, day and night. The idea of actually acting on her dream was practically unfathomable. Yet there she stood, on a rocky cliff over-looking the Channel. In a moment, she planned to fly over it and land somewhere on the French coast.

It was frightfully cold, and the waves down below crashed violently against the rocks. She could feel the salty seawater hit her face as the wind blew against her.

Suddenly, she felt she was ready. She had been standing there for a very long time, nervous and shaking. She was ridiculously afraid of falling off her broomstick. She was also afraid of drowning. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to apparate last minute.

Hermione took a deep breath, and looked out into the distance, then back at Dover. She mounted her broom, leaned forward a little, and kicked off. The wind was stronger over the water, and she could hardly take the time to bundle up before she went any further.

“Just breathe, Hermione,” she told herself. “Just breathe.”

She flew away into the distance with an air of confidence. It won’t be long now, she thought to herself. She was finally on her way.