Assassins

Chapter 4

Pansy's heels clicked loudly against the pavement as she sauntered purposefully down Pembroke Road. She was loathe to be in Muggle London, and she was sure that it showed on her face, too. It wasn't because she didn't like Muggles or found them at all distasteful - it was because she could be in other places, doing other (more productive) things.

She'd found it a bit unnerving, to say the least, when Ron had taken her to the basement and had a Ministry employee perform a locator spell on her old friend. The employee had worn a shroud over his face and had spoken nary a word as he'd worked the spell, and frankly, it had given her the willies. The spell had worked, though, and Ron had sent her on her way to Shoreditch.

She smiled to herself as she thought of Ron. He thought that he was doing a good job keeping her at bay, when in all reality, she felt thoroughly ready to pounce. If she could just get that goody-two-shoes girlfriend of his out of the way, she knew that she'd be able to reign him in, just as she always had.

Then again, she mused silently, there was always the possibility that being secluded with Potter for an undetermined amount of time would do the trick for her. Pansy wasn't a fool when it came to identifying and understanding attraction and lust, and she'd seen more than enough of it evidenced in the Boy Wonder's eyes at Hogwarts whenever he'd looked at that bushy-haired bint.

She could only wonder, if the freak was supposed to be a supergenius, why she hadn't seen it for herself.

Or maybe she had seen it and ignored it. Pansy's eyes darted back and forth between the rotting buildings as she turned this new idea over in her mind. Perhaps the girl had seen Potter's affection for her, and simply ignored it in favor of his best friend's affections. Despite her loathing of the other female, Pansy found that she was filled with grudging admiration. She wondered if Potter still pined for his friend - if he did, then Ron's road out of the relationship was paved with gold. She smirked to herself as she headed towards the last, most run-down building at the end of the street.

She wouldn't have admitted it to anyone if they'd cared enough to ask, but she was more than a little bit apprehensive about seeking out her old flame. She hadn't been there when it had happened, but she'd heard rumors about his reaction to his parents being murdered by the very person they'd served. Some people said that he'd snapped; gone insane. She couldn't even remember the last time anyone from their old circle had seen him.

She knew what a murderous personality he'd had before his parents had died; thinking about what he'd be like with nothing left to lose made her shudder involuntarily. As she reached her hand out to open the door to the dive, she wondered if he'd even speak to her. After all, the last time they'd spoken amicably had been right before their breakup at the end of their sixth year at Hogwarts.

She went inside the dim establishment and squinted her eyes, trying to force them to adjust to the lighting. Her eyes darted left, then right. She stepped further into the room and craned her neck to peer into the corner booths. When her eyes fell on a head full of dirty white-blonde hair, she knew she'd found her quarry. She ignored the hungry stares that were fixed on her and made her way to the tiny booth in the back of the room. She slid into the seat opposite him and waited for him to notice that she was there.

It didn't take long.

"I don't need any fucking company tonight," he snarled. He was positioned so that his right cheek was resting against the table, and his eyes were closed. She wrinkled her nose distastefully at the odor that was emanating from him, and rolled her eyes at the table full of empty snifters - and the full one that he held clumsily in his hand. So this was what Draco Malfoy, richest and most powerful of all the Slytherins, had been reduced to - a common drunk.

"On the contrary, sweet," she said smoothly. "I think you're in dire need of a woman's touch."

Draco winced even as his head snapped up. "What in the hell are you doing here?"

"Manners, darling," she said, giving him a predatory smile. "You used to have them, remember?"

"I used to have a lot of things," he snapped, his eyes traveling slowly around the smoky room.

"I'm alone," she volunteered, examining her nails and pretending to look bored.

"Not very wise of you," he drawled, raising the snifter of alcohol to his lips. "But then again, you never were very bright, were you?" She stiffened.

"I'll thank you to remember which of us still has her dignity in tact," she snapped. He snorted as he placed the glass back on the table.

"Dignity? I don't think you know the meaning of the word."

"I know that I'm not the one who became a sodding drunk." He narrowed his eyes and glared at her.

"That'd be the only thing you know, then, wouldn't it?"

"I've been sent to ask you if you want to join a team of sorts." Draco arched an eyebrow, and she was mildly startled to see the familiar smirk appear on his face.

"Messenger girl, eh? What's the matter, Parkinson? Couldn't find someone in a higher office to blow?" Pansy's face turned scarlet with rage, but before she could open her mouth to retort, he spoke again. "Who sent you?"

"Ron Weasley."

Draco nearly fell out of his chair, he was laughing so hard.

"What in the bloody hell is so damned funny?" she demanded.

"Don't tell me you're still on about the Weasel," Draco sniggered. "Didn't you get your fill of him in seventh year, or have you gone back for sloppy seconds?"

"He's heading a project at the Ministry, and they want you involved," she bit out. "Although looking at you, I can't imagine why."

Draco blatantly ignored her comment and leveled a malevolent grin at her. "Isn't Weasley still dating the Mudblood? Last I heard, they were about to get engaged."

His comment rubbed Pansy the wrong way, and she could feel her cheeks burning. "Are you going to give me an answer, or not?"

"Perhaps if you asked me a question that merited an answer, I'd give you one," he said coldly. "Like I told you when you sat down and your malodorous perfume made me want to vomit, I don't need any fucking company. Run back to your Weasel, and the both of you can sod off, for all I care."

"Don't act so superior, Draco," she chided coolly, her eyes flashing. "I should think you'd be grateful for a spot of help, considering your current condition."

"You know absolutely nothing about my current condition," he said acidly. "So go back to him, and just pray to whatever deities exist that someday he'll notice you panting after him."

Pansy's eyes filled with tears, but before she would give him the satisfaction of seeing them, she was out of the booth and heading towards the front door. Only one thing reverberated through her mind on the way back to the Ministry and that small office on the second floor.

How am I going to tell Ron that I failed?

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

When Pansy returned to Ron's office, she was surprised to find him soundly asleep. He was reclined in his chair, his head tilted back, and his lips slightly parted as he slept. She felt the smile creeping up on her, and in an effort to stifle it, cleared her throat loudly.

Ron didn't move.

"Ron!" she said. When she got no response, she moved forward and gently shook his shoulder. "Ron, wake up!"

When his arms circled her waist and drew her nearer, she had to bite her lip to prevent the gasp that wanted to slip out. "Go back to sleep, Hermione."

The tender feelings that had been burgeoning came to a screeching halt at being called by another name, and she pushed him roughly as she disengaged from him. "Wake up!" she shouted. Ron's eyes snapped open with a start.

"What in the-" his voice died when his eyes fell on her. He straightened up a bit in his chair and ran his long fingers through the shock of red hair that kept falling in his eyes. "Parkinson - I didn't hear you come in."

"That's not a surprise, considering that you were sound asleep," she quipped, lowering herself into the chair across from his desk, and crossing her legs.

"I haven't been sleeping well," he confided, his ears turning scarlet. "Wait - did you find him?"

"Oh, I found him, all right," she said, frowning. Ron eyed her carefully.

"And?"

"And he said no."

"He said no?"

"Actually, he didn't say no. He wouldn't even answer the damned question."

"You have to go back," Ron said decisively. "You have to talk to him, and make him see that-"

"He said no," she repeated slowly, as though she were speaking to a toddler. "He's not going to do it. Once Draco makes his mind up about something, it's final. Me going back would be like throwing myself against a brick wall - completely ineffectual."

"You could play the old love card," he supplied hopefully. She shook her head.

"He never loved me, so it wouldn't work."

"There's got to be something you can do," he said desperately. "Something, anything!"

"What would you have me do?" she asked, interested. She leaned forward, giving him a more than ample look at the cleavage that her low-cut top exposed. His face turned red, but he didn't turn away from her, which she thought was heartening.

"Whatever it takes."

"Interesting," she replied, arching an eyebrow. "But nothing will work. He's said no, and that's the end of it."

"I can't tell Dumbledore that he refused," Ron moaned, rubbing his face tiredly. "I just can't."

Pansy shrugged. "He'll find a replacement, I'm sure."

"It's not as simple as all that," Ron snapped. "It took him long enough to approve the bloody project, and I'm not willing to risk its success just because some spoiled rich kid doesn't feel like helping us!"

Pansy bristled, uncertain as to whether he was referring to Draco or herself.

"It's out of my hands. He's made up his feeble mind!"

"I refuse to believe this. It's unacceptable." She watched in disbelief as Ron gathered his heavy cloak and a stack of parchments from his desk, then headed towards the door. She stood quickly.

"Are you going to talk to him?"

"No," he said, looking at her over his shoulder. "I'm going home, to bed, so I can get some rest before I have to face Dumbledore with the bad news. Looks like your services are no longer needed, Parkinson, so I'd advise you to go home, too."

Pansy stared after him in utter disbelief as he stormed out of the office, leaving her alone with nothing but the sound of his retreating footsteps echoing in her ears.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"He said no, and she couldn't change his mind?" Hermione asked, her voice rich with unspoken "I told you so"-s. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I don't know," Ron yelled. He didn't know why he'd expected her to comfort him and let him just vent his frustration; he should have expected the lecture that he knew she was about to give him.

Instead of speaking again, however, she plucked her cloak from the hook it was hanging on, and slipped it over her shoulders. He stared at her.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing, Hermione?"

"I'm going to see him myself."

"What?" he bellowed. She fastened the cloak's buttons with calm fingers, though her stomach was churning. "You can't! If he wouldn't listen to an ex-girlfriend - a pureblood and an ex-housemate, at that - why would you think he'd listen to you?"

Hermione pushed her hair back and sighed. "Pansy Parkinson is one of the most incompetent people I've ever had the misfortune to meet. I'd be willing to bet my entire library that she just swaggered up to him and demanded that he join."

"So?"

"My point is that it takes a special approach to get through to those who don't want to look anywhere beyond themselves." Ron's mouth dropped open.

"You're giving me the willies, Hermione. What makes you so sure that he'll listen to you?"

"I'm not sure," she said, giving him a tiny smile. "But the project is what's important right now, and I've got to do something to help. I can't stand idly by when there's even the most remote possibility that I might be able to help."

Ron marveled at her bravery as she disapparated from their flat.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Hermione's eyes darted up and down the busy road before she ducked into an alleyway behind Pembroke. She wrinkled her nose at the pungent smell of urine and garbage overflowing from the bin, and tried to dodge bits of it as she walked toward the end of the dark alley. She kept glancing behind her, and when she was sure she wasn't being followed, she extracted her wand from her cloak and repeated the incantation to perform the same locator spell that the Unspeakable at the Ministry had used earlier for Ron. This was one of her secrets; one of the most wonderful bits of information she had obtained from her endless reading. She could find anyone. Almost anyone, she grudgingly reminded herself.

When the smoky image erupted from the end of her wand she squinted into the dust, trying to make out the name on the sign of the pub. She knew the general area he was in, thanks to the information the strumpet had provided Ron with, but she didn't know the exact location, and she wasn't taking any chances that she would walk into one of the scariest pubs in Muggle London for nothing. Besides, every minute she wasted looking for him was another minute she could have spent preparing the training exercises for the recruits. Satisfied that she knew exactly which pub he was in, she placed her wand back in her cloak and ducked through the back door of a restaurant to get back onto the street.

Good gods, she thought, her eyes falling on the mop of dirty platinum hair in the booth all the way in the back of the pub. The rumors must be true, then. Look at him! Pansy hadn't been lying about his condition, that was certain. She was frozen to the spot as she stared at him. Even though her brain willed her to move, her feet wouldn't cooperate. She stood in the entrance too long, however, and the patrons began twisting on their stools to get a look at the second young girl to come in that evening - surely a first in the establishment's history.

"Hey honey!" A toothless old man sidled up to her and placed a grimy hand on her lower back. "Wha's a pretty little thing like you doin' in her'?" His breath smelled toxic and Hermione tried to move away from his grip, but he held on to her like she was his next bottle of ripple. Her heart began to pound.

"Let go, or I'll make you sorry," she said through gritted teeth, carefully slipping her arm inside of her cloak. The man began to laugh raucously and pulled her closer. Gripping her wand, she muttered the curse under her breath, and used the edge of a greasy table to maintain her balance as the man, silenced and numb, fell backward onto the dirty floor.

"Wha' happened to 'im?" The rest of the drunks at the bar stood up to help their friend, and Hermione wasted no time moving away from them and toward the back booth.

"Malfoy," she whispered, glancing around furtively. He didn't lift his head from the table. "Malfoy!"

When she got no response, she sighed. She maneuvered the wand beneath her cloak so that it was pointed at him beneath the table, and muttered the strongest sobering charm she knew. Almost immediately he sat up and frowned. When his eyes focused on her, however, all she could see was his utter surprise.

"Mudblood," he spat disparagingly. He gave a bitter laugh that made Hermione wince. "So Parkinson couldn't get the job done, and she's sent you to do it? Brilliant, because I'd be so much more willing to be the Ministry's puppet if a half-breed asked me, right?" Hermione smiled.

"Better to collect a stipend from the puppet master once a month and waste it on drink rather than earning it, then?" Draco's jaw dropped slightly, but he recovered quickly.

"How did you know about that?" he snarled, reaching for a snifter. After realizing that it was empty, he hurled it onto the floor. "Oy! Barkeep!" He waved one of the remaining empty glasses in the general direction of the bar, and Hermione heard a muffled voice respond. "Been digging around in the Ministry's financial statements, have you?"

"Better me- someone of little consequence, than say- one of your old friends, right?"

"You performed a bloody Sobering Charm on me for blackmail? Do you know how much of my stipend it took to get me that drunk?" He shot a glare at her as the bartender placed a filthy glass on the table between them.

"Can I get somfin' for ye' miss?" The old man smiled, and Hermione didn't understand why so many teeth had just up and run out of the place. Draco snorted.

"Are you kidding? Look at her. She doesn't drink."

"I'll take a beer," she said, looking Draco square in the eye. The bartender nodded and ambled away. "I didn't come to blackmail you, and I'm not going to sit here and argue with you," she said calmly. "I came to tell you what Pansy didn't."

"How do you know what she did and didn't tell me?" he asked suspiciously. He glanced around, but Hermione said nothing.

"You've been isolated for quite a long time, Malfoy. Things have changed." The bartender placed a frosted mug on the table, and Hermione took a long drink, savoring the first look of real interest that appeared on his face. "Pansy doesn't rank anywhere near the level that I do at the Ministry- we're not sparring classmates anymore. Of course she wouldn't be privy to certain information that we have. We simply reasoned that you might be more inclined to listen to an old friend."

"An old friend?" he asked scathingly, giving a small snort of laughter. "I'm surprised that you'd even be involved with the bint, after what passed between she and your affianced."

"He's not my affianced - yet," Hermione added as an afterthought. She frowned as she took in what he'd said. "And nothing passed between them."

"Believe whatever helps you sleep at night," he said carelessly, shrugging. Her frown deepened.

"Look," she sighed, trying to focus on the task at hand. "The point is that it was a poor decision on our part to send a subordinate on such an important task."

"Important to you, maybe," he snapped. Hermione could tell that he didn't like thinking that his old housemates weren't above suspicion now. He seemed to be recovering some of his infamous arrogance. "Completely irrelevant to me."

Good, she thought, get angry. He was more likely to involve himself if he got angry about it.

"If you consider avenging your parent's murders to be irrelevant, then I have to say that you have even less decency than I remembered." She shouldn't have said that, she knew, but she was walking a thin line and grasping at straws. She took another long drink and watched his slate eyes flash in the dim light that was swinging slowly above the table. He looked up and a depraved smile crept onto his sallow face. She felt her stomach turn over when he waved his hand over the snifter and it disappeared. "How did you do-"

"In your pathetic attempt to draw me in, Granger, you've made the critical error of failing to remember the true nature of people."

"What are you on about?" she breathed, still mesmerized by his wandless magic.

"I wouldn't waste one second of time with you and your band of freaks and Mudbloods on such a futile enterprise as taking down the Dark Lord and his servants. I see no profit in it for me," he said. Hermione gave him a calculating smile. She'd been prepared for this.

"What if I said that if you joined us I could get you the Manor back, and the money, and restore the family honor and the rest of the nonsense that you fanatical purebloods care about?" It was her ace, and her last resort. If teasing him with his old wealth and stature didn't work, she felt sure that nothing would.

"You couldn't-"

"Of course I could," she said, cutting him off. Her smile was still in place as she said, "It is a beautiful home, Malfoy. Pity it's just sitting there, collecting doxies and dust, and Merlin knows what else."

"You have never stepped one of your filthy Mudblood toes inside my ancestral family home!" he roared. The bar suddenly went silent at the unexpected outburst from the normally silent blonde. In the distance Hermione heard one of the old men ask his friend what in the devil a Mudblood was.

"Yes, I have." From the sober look on her face, he knew she was telling the truth.

"When-"

"That, Malfoy, is what I would consider a completely irrelevant question after what I've jut offered you - especially in your current predicament." He looked completely bewildered as she pulled a small, rolled-up parchment from her cloak and dropped it o the table between them. "Only when you are truly committed to joining us will this parchment open and give you your instructions." She got up from the table quickly, and was turned half-way around to leave when he spoke.

"Since when are you such a bitch? I thought you were all innocence and sweetness."

"And that-" she said, leaning toward him and narrowing her gaze to make sure his eyes were locked on hers. "Has always been your biggest mistake." Before he could even open his mouth to respond, she was gone.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The second she appeared in their living room and saw Ron sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands, she spoke. "He'll do it."

"What? How?" He stood and closed the distance between them. When he had his arms around her he murmured, "I was worried."

"You needn't have been." She smiled weakly and withdrew from his embrace. "I can handle the Muggles, and certainly Malfoy." She plopped down onto the couch and started untying the laces on her boots. Ron joined her and immediately put his head back in his hands.

"So he agreed?"

"No, but he will," she said confidently. Her eyelids began to droop as she put her head back on the edge of the cushion.

"How do you know? I have to go to Dumbledore in the morning, if I can't confirm that they've all agreed-"

"He will," she repeated.

"How do you know? What exactly did he say? What did you say?" He had pulled his head up and was now messaging his temples. He looked even more tired than she did.

"Ron, I think what we both need is a good long nap." She started to get up.

"Later. What was said? Why are you so sure he'll agree?" She sighed.

"All right," she said, and sat back down. "We're going to need to ask your father for a favor."

Ron gave her a wary look. "And what might that be?"

"I promised Malfoy that if he helped us, we would clear his family name and restore his money and home to him." She braced herself for Ron's reaction as soon as she saw his ears turning red.

"What?" he bellowed, jumping up. "You bloody well know that Dad doesn't even know about the project - asking him for something like this would clue him in, and that's something that we can't afford to do! Besides, I refuse to ask anyone to clear the Malfoy name, when the lot of them were supporters of the very person we're trying to get rid of!"

"Ron, it's the only way-"

"No," he interrupted her, shaking his head. "Merlin, Hermione," he said, squeezing his eyes shut. "You risked your personal safety and the integrity of this mission by going down there, and-"

"How dare you, Ronald Weasley!" she snapped, rising to her feet to face him. "You can send that cow down there to do it and she doesn't risk the integrity of the mission, but I go down there and actually get the ruddy job done, and suddenly I've risked it?"

"That's not how I meant it."

"That's exactly how you meant it," she corrected him, her eyes glittering with anger. "I had to say something to spark his interest, otherwise you would have had to report to Dumbledore that you failed at your task - and this is the thanks I get for it?"

"Calm down, love," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Let's just think about this for a moment. Dad doesn't know anything because Dumbledore wanted him to be safe from consequences should we be found out. How are we going to ask him for anything?"

"I haven't quite figured that one out yet," she admitted. She was silent for a moment, remembering the conversation that had passed between Draco and herself. She frowned and looked over at Ron, who was running his fingers through his hair. "Ron, you've never done anything with Pansy Parkinson, have you?"

Ron turned startled eyes to her, and he paled slightly. "Why would you ask such a stupid question? Me and Parkinson? Really, Hermione - that's going a bit too far, even for you."

Hermione pursed her lips and stared at him. She could tell when he was lying to her - he'd always been a terrible liar, especially when he tried to lie to her or Harry. "What aren't you telling me?"

"There's nothing that I'm not telling you," he insisted, turning his back to her. "Nothing happened between us."

"You never slept with her?" Ron spun around to focus his incredulous gaze on her.

"What? Where is this coming from all of a sudden?"

"Malfoy said that-"

"Malfoy said something? And you believed him, knowing what kind of a person he is?" Hermione bit her lip. He was right; she knew that Malfoy liked nothing better than to inflict misery on other people, and he had always enjoyed hurting her especially. Why should she believe him?

"You're right, Ron," she whispered. "I don't know what got into me. I suppose that being with him in that place shook me up a bit." He moved forward and took her into his arms.

"It's completely understandable," he breathed softly. "Look, if you really want me to, I'll talk to my Dad tomorrow. Maybe I can take him out to lunch, somewhere away from the Ministry, and away from prying eyes." She pulled away and gave him a brilliant smile.

"Would you? Oh, Ron! Thank you so much!" She closed her eyes and squeezed him tightly as he rested his chin on top of her head.

What have I gotten us both into?