Later that evening, Hermione and Draco had been assigned to washing dishes together. They stood side by side at the sink, elbows touching, Hermione washing and Draco drying.
“So,” he said, starting their conversation, “how was France?”
“Fine,” Hermione said, scrubbing a cup absentmindedly. “The Death Eaters were hiding in the north, trying to pull up another pureblood-supremacy movement. They fought. Hard. But when we managed to subdue four of them the rest surrendered. They were all cowards. They’re in Azkaban now, awaiting trial.”
Draco nodded. “And France itself?”
Hermione laughed. “I wasn’t on vacation, Draco! But I suppose it was beautiful. The countryside was lovely, and we even saw a bit of Paris. It was beautiful.”
Draco’s face tightened, and Hermione suddenly remembered why. Tria had loved Paris; her family had owned an apartment in the city in order to visit it whenever they wanted.
“It’s true,” Hermione whispered. “Everything reminds you of her.”
“Everything,” Draco whispered, still not looking at Hermione. “Absolutely everything.”
They were silent for a few moments, lost in recollections of the girl they had both lost. Hermione tentatively began conversation again. “What did we miss when we were gone?”
“Not much,” Draco said. “Pansy and Blaise caught Rodolphus Lestrange. He was on the run, hiding both from the law and from other Death Eaters. He’s in prison now, and I think he’s a bit glad to be there. He abandoned, the battle, see.”
Hermione nodded. That sort of thing was resulted in death among Voldemort’s followers. Abandonment was a top crime, and you paid the ultimate price.
“Other than that, not too much happened here,” Draco conceded. As he put away the final plate, he turned and offered her something that had become incredibly rare: a smile. “Let’s go take a walk.”
Hermione smiled back, glad to see something that she hadn’t seen in a long time, something that happened so little since Tria’s death.
They walked through the garden, absentmindedly and slowly. There was mostly silence between them, but it was a comfortable silence, one of two friends who are simply glad to be together. Hermione was glad to be friends with Draco. Their friendship hadn’t particularly surprised Hermione. If Tria could get along with Draco, why couldn’t she? Then again, Tria was—had been—an extrovert who could make friends with a tree, while Hermione preferred books to actual people.
Hermione broke the silence. “When’s your next mission?”
“I’m not sure,” Draco said, watching a garden gnome. “Kingsley said something about partners…I’m not quite sure what he meant, but I didn’t like it. I prefer to work alone.”
Hermione nodded. “I know. You work better that way. But wouldn’t it be nice to have someone watching your back?”
“No,” Draco said. “I like the risk of being on your own.”
“I’m the opposite,” Hermione admitted. “I like having people behind me, watching, making sure there’s nothing sneaking up on me.”
Draco nodded. “I get why you would feel that way.” He pointed off into the sunset. “Look. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Lovely,” Hermione agreed. They stood there for many minutes, simply watching the sunset. Hermione sensed that Draco was remembering Tria, and as she looked at his face she knew she was right. He had an expression of pain and grief etched into his features.
“Let’s go back inside before it gets too dark out,” she murmured. Draco nodded, seeming to snap back to reality. The two meandered their way back through the garden. Draco plucked a single lily from the plant, and handed it to Hermione, who took it, touched.
When they returned to the kitchen, Kingsley, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Delaney Summers (Tria’s mother) were deep in discussion.
“What’s going on?” Hermione asked, worried.
“Nothing more alarming than usual,” Kinsley told her reassuringly. “We’ve found a group of five Death Eaters hiding out in Scotland. We think Jugson and Crabbe are among them.”
“Jugson….” Hermione thought for a moment. “He was at the Department of Mysteries! He nearly killed Tria!”
Delaney nodded, her eyes narrowed lethally. Hermione remember that the witch, though as tiny as her daughter and growing in years, was known as one of the decade’s best duelers. “I remember. And he’s going to pay.”
“We need a team of two to take them down,” Kingsley continued. “We were hoping Harry and Ron could do it, but they just asked for time off.” He looked at Hermione and Draco, an expression of sudden intrigue on his face. “What about you two? You would work well together, and I know you could handle it.”
Hermione and Draco looked at each other.
“I will if Draco does,” Hermione said carefully. Draco considered for a moment or two.
“Alright,” he conceded. “I’ll give partnering a try. When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Kingsley said gravely. “I’ll have a Portkey prepared for you.”
(Author's Notes: I love reviews, so tell me what you think in the comments!)
“So,” he said, starting their conversation, “how was France?”
“Fine,” Hermione said, scrubbing a cup absentmindedly. “The Death Eaters were hiding in the north, trying to pull up another pureblood-supremacy movement. They fought. Hard. But when we managed to subdue four of them the rest surrendered. They were all cowards. They’re in Azkaban now, awaiting trial.”
Draco nodded. “And France itself?”
Hermione laughed. “I wasn’t on vacation, Draco! But I suppose it was beautiful. The countryside was lovely, and we even saw a bit of Paris. It was beautiful.”
Draco’s face tightened, and Hermione suddenly remembered why. Tria had loved Paris; her family had owned an apartment in the city in order to visit it whenever they wanted.
“It’s true,” Hermione whispered. “Everything reminds you of her.”
“Everything,” Draco whispered, still not looking at Hermione. “Absolutely everything.”
They were silent for a few moments, lost in recollections of the girl they had both lost. Hermione tentatively began conversation again. “What did we miss when we were gone?”
“Not much,” Draco said. “Pansy and Blaise caught Rodolphus Lestrange. He was on the run, hiding both from the law and from other Death Eaters. He’s in prison now, and I think he’s a bit glad to be there. He abandoned, the battle, see.”
Hermione nodded. That sort of thing was resulted in death among Voldemort’s followers. Abandonment was a top crime, and you paid the ultimate price.
“Other than that, not too much happened here,” Draco conceded. As he put away the final plate, he turned and offered her something that had become incredibly rare: a smile. “Let’s go take a walk.”
Hermione smiled back, glad to see something that she hadn’t seen in a long time, something that happened so little since Tria’s death.
They walked through the garden, absentmindedly and slowly. There was mostly silence between them, but it was a comfortable silence, one of two friends who are simply glad to be together. Hermione was glad to be friends with Draco. Their friendship hadn’t particularly surprised Hermione. If Tria could get along with Draco, why couldn’t she? Then again, Tria was—had been—an extrovert who could make friends with a tree, while Hermione preferred books to actual people.
Hermione broke the silence. “When’s your next mission?”
“I’m not sure,” Draco said, watching a garden gnome. “Kingsley said something about partners…I’m not quite sure what he meant, but I didn’t like it. I prefer to work alone.”
Hermione nodded. “I know. You work better that way. But wouldn’t it be nice to have someone watching your back?”
“No,” Draco said. “I like the risk of being on your own.”
“I’m the opposite,” Hermione admitted. “I like having people behind me, watching, making sure there’s nothing sneaking up on me.”
Draco nodded. “I get why you would feel that way.” He pointed off into the sunset. “Look. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Lovely,” Hermione agreed. They stood there for many minutes, simply watching the sunset. Hermione sensed that Draco was remembering Tria, and as she looked at his face she knew she was right. He had an expression of pain and grief etched into his features.
“Let’s go back inside before it gets too dark out,” she murmured. Draco nodded, seeming to snap back to reality. The two meandered their way back through the garden. Draco plucked a single lily from the plant, and handed it to Hermione, who took it, touched.
When they returned to the kitchen, Kingsley, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Delaney Summers (Tria’s mother) were deep in discussion.
“What’s going on?” Hermione asked, worried.
“Nothing more alarming than usual,” Kinsley told her reassuringly. “We’ve found a group of five Death Eaters hiding out in Scotland. We think Jugson and Crabbe are among them.”
“Jugson….” Hermione thought for a moment. “He was at the Department of Mysteries! He nearly killed Tria!”
Delaney nodded, her eyes narrowed lethally. Hermione remember that the witch, though as tiny as her daughter and growing in years, was known as one of the decade’s best duelers. “I remember. And he’s going to pay.”
“We need a team of two to take them down,” Kingsley continued. “We were hoping Harry and Ron could do it, but they just asked for time off.” He looked at Hermione and Draco, an expression of sudden intrigue on his face. “What about you two? You would work well together, and I know you could handle it.”
Hermione and Draco looked at each other.
“I will if Draco does,” Hermione said carefully. Draco considered for a moment or two.
“Alright,” he conceded. “I’ll give partnering a try. When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Kingsley said gravely. “I’ll have a Portkey prepared for you.”
(Author's Notes: I love reviews, so tell me what you think in the comments!)