The Wild Hunt

December 24

Hermione was still reeling from Blaise's announcement that he was going to clear her name. When she first woke up, she laid very still, just trying to take it all in. She couldn't believe the turn her life had taken. This wasn't supposed to happen. The war with Voldemort was over. The Death Eaters had either been killed or imprisoned, except for the few directionless dregs of the formerly awe-inspiring force. Her life was supposed to be on an even keel now, not reduced to complete chaos. She was supposed to be working contentedly in the Ministry archives, puttering around... archiving things. Not living on the run with an ex-fiancé who despised her.

She heard Blaise stirring on the other side of the room and knew she'd have to get up. She was sure that she'd already slept longer than she should have. She had just been so exhausted, even after sleeping half the day away, yesterday. After dropping his bombshell, Blaise had spent the evening grilling her for any detail - even the smallest and most insignificant - that might offer a clue to the identity of the person who was framing her. Unfortunately she hadn't had much to offer.

Hermione crawled out of bed and scurried into the bathroom. After washing up, she pulled on her wrinkled, scratchy dress. She wanted to ask Blaise if he could get her some more clothes, but after the response she'd received when she'd asked to borrow his shirt, she didn't dare.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror with a grimace of distaste. Not only was she uncomfortable, she looked even more disreputable than she had when she'd arrived at Blaise's house two days ago. Now she not only looked like a tart; she looked like a particularly cheap, slatternly tart, with her stained, wrinkled clothes, her matted tangle of hair and the various scrapes and bruises she'd acquired.

Hermione sighed in resignation and exited the bathroom. She combed her fingers through her tangled hair, trying to smooth out the knots. She was wondering if she'd ever be able to get the knots out or if she'd have to cut her hair off.

Blaise looked up from the paper he was perusing and Hermione paused self-consciously before walking the rest of the way to the table to join him. He looked at his paper again when she sat down, still coming her fingers through her hair, nervously.

"The toast and tea are for you," he said, curtly.

"Thank-you," Hermione replied quietly, picking up the earthenware mug.

Blaise glanced up at her and froze, staring at her arm. Hermione looked down. Clearly delineated on the pale skin of her upper arm were four brilliantly purple bruises outlining the tight grip of Dawkes' fingers. The matching thumbprint was hidden on the underside of her arm, but she was painfully reminded of it whenever her arm brushed against the material of her dress.

Blaise didn't comment, simply saying, "I don't know how you can drink that swill," as he picked up his own cup of coffee.

Hermione sipped at her tea. It was rather bad, but at least it helped wash down the toast, which tasted like sawdust to Hermione.

Blaise re-folded his newspaper with a snap. "Today, I'm going to see if any of my contacts can tell me anything about your case... find out what the rumours are."

"All right. I'm ready to go when you are."

"You're not going."

"What? Why not? What am I going to do while you're gone?"

"You're not going because my contacts won't tell me anything if you're around. And you'll be doing some research while I'm gone." He gestured in the direction of the battered dresser. There was a large stack of newspapers lying on top of it. "I had those brought around today. You can look through them for anything that might give us a clue as to what's going on." He smirked at Hermione's disgruntled expression. "You're the archivist. You should be used to sorting through large amounts of information. And before you ask, no I have no idea where you should start. You haven't exactly given me much to go on." He got to his feet and strolled toward the door. He paused with his hand on the door handle. "Food will be delivered. Stay in the room. You'll be safe here."

And then he was gone.

***

Draco was hitting one dead-end after another, but he trusted that this state of affairs was temporary. Under normal circumstances, Blaise could disappear and even Draco would never be able to find him, unless by chance. Blaise was that good.

But the circumstances were not normal. Blaise had Granger with him. That meant he was distracted and off his game. Draco just had to find them before somebody else did.

Draco had spent most of the previous day checking with Blaise's other acquaintances to see if anybody had heard from him for any reason. Draco also had some of his people hidden out near Blaise's usual haunts on the off chance that he might actually turn up at one of them. In the meantime, he had to try and find out where else Blaise might be hiding out and there was only one person he knew of who might be able to give him that information: Duccio Zabini, the man Draco thought of as The Zabini Godfather.

If Blaise had any ventures that were not quite on the right side of the law, where he might find shelter, The Zabini Godfather would know about them.

Draco pushed the large, gold button beside the door and heard the sonorous sound of a gong ringing in the depths of the house. He wondered if the entire Zabini family had a liking for door-gongs or if Blaise had picked up the odd quirk from his godfather.

The door flew open so suddenly that it startled Draco. Standing in front of him was a dark-haired wizard dressed in Muggle clothes. He had on baggy, black, tailored trousers, a rather wrinkled white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and braces in red, green and white stripes - the colours of the Italian flag, naturally. He also had on black and purple wing-tip shoes and, to complete the picture, a tie that had been tie-dyed a vivid robin's-egg blue.

Draco blinked in surprise. It seemed that the master of the house had decided to answer the door himself.

"Come in, come in!" Duccio said with an expansive sweep of his arms. "You are one of Blaise's friends. Draco Malfoy. It has been a long time, but not so long that I can't remember." The flamboyant Italian wizard looked at him with dark, laughing eyes.

"It's good to see you again, Mr Zabini,"

"Ah, ah, ah!" he exclaimed, shaking a finger at Draco. "What is this 'Mr Zabini'? What have I said about that?"

"Sorry," Draco said with the open grin that so few people ever saw gracing his sharp features. "It's really good to see you again Uncle Ducky."

"Ha!" Duccio exclaimed happily, rocking back on his heels, immensely pleased that Draco had remembered. "You are a grown man now. It is all right to call me Ducky."

"What brings you into my home?" Ducky inquired, leading the way into his library.

"Have you heard from Blaise lately?" Draco asked.

Ducky's eyebrows rose. "Not in the past week. Why do you ask?"

Draco explained about Hermione's flight from justice and his firm's commitment to finding her.

"Why are you looking for Blaise?" Ducky asked at the end of his explanation, obviously puzzled.

"She's Blaise's former fiancée. I don't think you ever met her did you?"

"No, the engagement ended before we were introduced."

"She went running to him at the first sign of trouble, and he's helping her." He looked at Ducky grimly. "I want to bring her in before it becomes a serious problem for Blaise."

"If she has become mixed up with these people who traffic controlled potions, it is very risky to get involved in this," Ducky warned Draco. "It could bring trouble down on your head."

"Even if it were raining daggers with the points downward, I wouldn't let it stop me from hunting down Granger."

"Even if your old friend is standing between you and your quarry?" Ducky asked.

Draco raked his hands through his hair. "I'm hoping I can get to her without Blaise getting in the way."

Ducky gave him a serious look. "If he has chosen her, he will get in the way of anybody who threatens his witch. Anybody." He shrugged, putting a wealth of meaning in that simple gesture. "The Zabini men are like that."

"But why?" Draco exclaimed in frustration. "She jilted him! She... fuck, she ripped his heart out. Why would he risk everything for her like that?"

Ducky shrugged again. "I did not say that the Zabini men were sensible." He gave Draco a searching look. "You are concerned about my godson."

"Of course I am!" Draco said. He made a visible effort to calm down. "You know... I can count the number of good friends I have on one hand. I don't particularly want to see anything happen to any of them, if I can help it."

Ducky shook his head. "You cannot tell Blaise what to do." He jabbed a thumb at his own barrel chest. "Trust me, I know this. I have tried. His mama has tried." He made an encompassing gesture with both his hands. "His whole family has tried. We all learned our folly many years ago."

Draco sighed. "I know. But I still have to try. You'll tell me if you learn anything that might help?" he asked, looking at Ducky worriedly.

Ducky gave him a long look. "Yes." He held up a finger to stem Draco's thanks. "If I feel that it will not bring harm to my godson. "

"All right," Draco said, clamping down on his impatience. "I can't ask more than that. I don't want anything to happen to Blaise either."

"Now, sit down, sit down," he said, gesturing toward the chairs clustered in front of the fireplace. "Surely you have time to visit with an old man during the holidays." Ducky gave a sharp yank to the bell-pull before settling down into his own chair.

Draco snorted, but accepted the invitation, sitting down on one of the comfortable chairs. "Old man, my arse. Try that old-lonely-man act on somebody who doesn't remember you."

Ducky grinned at him unrepentantly. "Ah, you are so like my godson, in some ways," he said. "You were in the same House at that school, were you not?"

"Yes, we were dorm-mates the whole time. I'm glad he was there. His company was the only thing that kept me sane sometimes." Draco rolled his eyes. "It's unbelievable how stupid some people are. Drove me mad, they did."

"He has told me about it," Ducky said. He shook his head. "This school of yours, it sounds more treacherous than Florence under the Medicis. He leant forward with an eager look. "Tell me more. I wish to hear all about it." A pot of coffee and some cups appeared on the small table.

Draco proceeded to tell Ducky about their exploits at Hogwarts, making sure to amuse him with stories of intrigue and plotting. Soon, he had Ducky chuckling and shaking his head at their antics.

"Were your other friends all from the same House as well?" Ducky asked, once his laughter had died down. "Blaise told me that he did not mix much with the others at that school."

Draco nodded. "We kept to ourselves most of the time... until near the end. Things changed with the war, but still... Almost all of my friends have been from Slytherin," Draco explained. "Except for one. She's a Hufflepuff." Draco blinked. "A Hufflepuff!" he repeated, as though he couldn't even believe what he was saying.

Ducky smiled at Draco's incredulity. "She is a good friend?"

Draco thought about that for a minute. "Yeah, I guess she is," he said slowly. He shook his head. "Although she's an aggravating bint, a lot of the time," he added with his usual smirk.

Ducky chuckled in reply.

Draco sipped at his coffee. "A Hufflepuff," he mumbled to himself. "Who ever would have thought it?" He couldn't believe it. He also couldn't believe he'd admitted it out loud. It was because of Ducky. When he and Blaise had gotten into some mischief, they'd never been able to hide it from Ducky. He had a way about him. You invariably found yourself telling him things you thought you'd never tell anybody.

Draco left a short while later. Ducky had said he would pass along any useful information if he thought it wouldn't endanger Blaise. Draco had to be satisfied with that.

***

Hannah paused in front of the full-length mirror and smoothed her dress down before adjusting her robes. She had chosen her clothing very carefully. She wanted to portray an image of somebody who was trustworthy and non-threatening. Not that any of her clothing looked particularly intimidating, but she had taken extra care with her appearance that morning. Her hair was caught back in a loose plait and she had on her favourite casual dress in a soft, lilac wool.

The cloak she wore over her dress was a rather nondescript grey. Not particularly flattering with her light colouring, but definitely not intimidating. All in all, she was satisfied that she had chosen well.

***

To her credit, Hannah barely reacted when the door opened.

"Hello," she said, smiling warmly. I'm here to see Duccio Zabini."

Ducky looked at the young witch on his doorstep interestedly. "Indeed? You have found him," he said, laying one hand over his chest and bowing low.

"I'm Hannah Abbot," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm with the Malfoy, Abbott and Nott Wizarding Apprehension Unit. I'm here about a case we're working on."

Ducky ushered her into the library and saw her seated in one of the chairs by the fireplace before he spoke again. "This is about Hermione Granger and my godson, yes?" He waited for her nod, and then continued. "Draco was already here today. I have agreed to give him information if I should happen to hear anything useful."

"Yes, I was aware that he might come here," Hannah said. "I would also like to discuss the case with you. Draco and I have a... difference of opinion."

"Indeed? Most interesting."

"I believe that Hermione is innocent and I would like to prove it. I also believe that Blaise is trying to help her and might attempt to clear her name."

"And why have you come to me?"

"I assume you know that Hermione has been accused of trafficking controlled potions?" Ducky nodded, a faint spark of interest in his eyes. "Given your ah... connections in the wizarding underworld," she said, delicately, "I thought that you might possibly have access to information regarding this case... Information that I would have a very difficult time acquiring."

The gleam in Ducky's eyes brightened. "And you believe that I would be willing to share this information with you, Miss Abbot?"

Hannah gave him her most innocent smile. "I believe that you would like to assist your godson. Proving Hermione's innocence would be of great assistance to him."

"Would it, indeed? Perhaps, perhaps." Ducky sat back in his chair, contemplating Hannah silently. After a few moments, he leant forward intently. "Do you believe my godson still cares for this Hermione?" he asked.

"I'm sure I couldn't say," Hannah said, cautiously.

"What do you think?"

Hannah paused. "Yes, I do. I think that he'll put himself in danger to help her. I also think that he needs all the help he can get. At the risk of upsetting one of my partners, I have to try and give them both as much help as I can."

"Perhaps Draco will not be as upset as you think. I am sure he values your judgement and respects you greatly," Ducky said.

"I don't know," Hannah said with a small snort of laughter. "He calls me an aggravating bint, a lot of the time."

"Ah!" Ducky exclaimed, as though he'd had a great revelation. "You are the Hufflepuff!" he said, delightedly.

"Erm... yes, I was a Hufflepuff in school," Hannah admitted.

Ducky beamed at her. "I think that many people underestimate the Hufflepuffs, do they not?" He nodded in satisfaction. "It is very good that Draco has a friend like you."

Hannah gaped at him. "A friend? I don't know that Draco considers me a fr..."

"Come, come. Sit down. You would like some Frangelico, yes?" Ducky ushered her over to one of the chairs gathered around the fireplace and she gingerly sat down on the silver and lavender brocade seat while Ducky settled into the mismatched pale blue and yellow one across from her. She glanced around. The entire room was a strange mishmash of styles and colours, reflecting the eccentric nature of the wizard sitting across from her.

A bemused Hannah found herself spending the rest of the afternoon telling the jovial Italian all about her school days and getting tipsy on hazelnut-flavoured liqueur. At the end of all that, she was immensely surprised when Ducky suddenly agreed to send her a message if he thought of any information that would help her.

"I thank you for visiting a lonely, old wizard" he said, kissing her hand when he bade her goodbye. "You are truly a gracious witch. Just like Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina," he said with a sigh. He patted her hand, gently. "Do not worry. We will help your friend... and my godson. You will see."

***

Hermione flipped the page with a loud rustle. A short while ago, she'd heard loud giggles from the next room. The giggles had been followed by much moaning and groaning, and at the moment, there was a rhythmic thumping that could only be caused by the headboard banging against the wall.

"Honestly, these walls are paper-thin," Hermione huffed to herself. "Haven't these people heard of silencing spells?"

A sudden, piercing scream startled her so much that she dropped her newspaper. The first scream was shortly followed by a deep, masculine shout. After that there was blessed silence.

"Oh, good. It's over," Hermione muttered, picking up her paper again.

For a while, she flipped through the paper, looking for clues. At least she was able to concentrate now that everything was quiet in the next room. When it started all over again, Hermione almost started pulling her hair out. She could not take it anymore.

***

It was going on ten o'clock when Blaise, feeling tired and out of sorts, strode back into the malodorous pub he and Hermione were calling home. It had been a singularly unproductive day. He'd been in touch with any of his contacts that he thought might be able to tell him anything about Hermione's problem. He had only gleaned one piece of information that might be considered useful and he wouldn't even be sure of that until he spoke to her.

When Blaise walked into the pub, he was flabbergasted to see Hermione sitting alone at one of the small tables. She had a glass of something that looked like tar with a head of foam sitting in front of her. Blaise fought to stay calm. Tension coiling through his body, he stalked to Hermione's table. He only became more infuriated when she didn't even notice his approach.

"Well hello, love," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders and bending down to kiss her neck. "I didn't expect to see you waiting for me down here." Hermione jumped in alarm at his first touch, barely relaxing when she discovered who it was.

To a casual viewer, they would look like a witch being greeted by her lover. Nobody but Hermione could hear the anger threading his quiet words, and nobody else could tell that his grip on her shoulders was painfully tight. Only Hermione knew.

"You don't look like you're really enjoying this," Blaise said, pushing the glass away. "Why don't we just go upstairs? I've been gone all day. I'd like to have you all to myself for a while."

Hermione got up, not entirely sure that she wanted to be alone with Blaise at that moment, but thinking that it was better to get the confrontation over with. Blaise wrapped his arm around her possessively, and they made their way up the stairs to their room.

As soon as the door had closed behind them, he lit into her. "What were you doing down there, Granger?" he snapped. "Do you even realise what a chance you were taking? How could you do something so stupid and reckless?"

"But nothing happened," Hermione protested.

"It could have! You're in Knockturn Alley, not your grandmother's sitting room. I suppose you didn't even notice the looks you were getting from the wizards in that common room, did you?" The blank look Hermione gave him seemed to infuriate him even more. "How can a witch who helped bring down Voldemort be so dense?" he yelled. "You were in danger. Somebody like Dawkes could have attacked you and I wouldn't have been there to help you this time." His eyes narrowed and he stalked over to Hermione, catching her chin in his hand and forcing her to look up at him. "Or do you enjoy having wizards like Dawkes ogling you and pawing at you? Is that it, Granger? I thought your distress seemed genuine, but maybe you wanted me to leave you to him."

Hermione gasped in outrage. Her hand swung around, but Blaise caught her wrist in a firm grip before her palm could connect with his face. "Don't even think about doing that again, Granger," he growled in warning. "Now, tell me what you were doing down there."

"The people in the other room... They were... they were... having sex!" she sputtered.

Blaise's jaw dropped. "What? You took the risk of going down to the common room just because somebody was getting a leg over?" he asked, incredulously. "What were you thinking? You're not some virginal schoolgirl, Granger. You do remember that grownups have sex, don't you?"

Hermione's face flamed. "That doesn't mean I want to listen to it!" she yelled, yanking her wrist out of his grasp.

Blaise closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. There was a muscle twitching in his jaw and he was obviously struggling to stay calm. "Granger," he said, without opening his eyes. "If you want your name cleared, you will not do anything like that again. This entire situation is already a right royal cock-up without you buggering things up even more."

Hermione didn't say anything, resentful that he was speaking to her as though she were a child.

"Granger," Blaise said, opening his eyes and glaring at her.

"I understand," Hermione said, mulishly. "Don't do anything stupid. Don't leave the room." She crossed her arms. "Could you, at least, cast a silencing charm the next time you leave me here alone?"

Blaise continued to look at her through narrowed eyes, as though he couldn't decide whether to trust her or not.

"I understand!" Hermione said, raising her voice.

"All right." He turned and walked toward the door.

"Where are you going, now?" Hermione asked.

He stopped with his hand on the door handle. "I am going downstairs while you get ready for bed," he said, evenly. "I think that's best, right now." Then he left, after murmuring the incantation for the silencing spell.

Hermione was still awake when he returned to their room, but pretended that she was already asleep. She didn't think that any conversation they had that night would be very productive.