What the Heart Wants

Chapter 12 - - What the Heart Wants

- - -

Draco arrived at his office one hour earlier than his usual eight o'clock. He wanted to get a head start on his day in order to leave time to contact the banks on the list Hermione had given him. He brewed himself a cup of coffee while he read his mail with his feet propped up on his personal assistant's desk.

Caleb wasn't due until seven-thirty, at which time he would normally start a pot of coffee, sort the mail, order Draco's favorite pastry, and start his fire.

Draco finished the mail and retreated to his office before anyone else arrived. He rearranged his morning schedule and sent notices to anyone who would be affected. At promptly nine, he shut himself in the office with strict instructions to Caleb that he not be disturbed, no matter what.

The bank in Paris was already open, but Draco hadn't wanted to seem too eager by Flooing first thing. At five after nine, ten-oh-five in Paris, Draco initiated the Floo network, and requested to speak with the manager of Banque de Français de Magique, in Paris, France.

A sharp, edgy man appeared after a few minutes.

"Bonjour," Draco began. "Parlez-vous Anglais?"

"Oui," the man said.

"I would like to speak to the manager of the bank, Christophe Peronnet."

"I am Christophe." The man sounded bored and didn't appear to have recognized Draco.

"I am interested in obtaining information from you."

Peronnet's expression became interested. "One moment," he said. "Let me secure zis line." He disappeared from view and Draco saw the connection shimmer. "Is better. Information, you say. Is not easy to obtain."

"I will be as specific as possible," Draco said. "I want a list of the names of every person who has made a deposit of greater than fifty thousand Galleons over the last seven years."

Peronnet's eyes widened, and Draco imagined that he was tallying the cost in his head.

"Zis is asking much," Peronnet said with a frown. "Why do you seek zhese names?"

Draco frowned in disapproval. "It was my understanding that people come to you when they don't want to answer a long list of questions."

The Frenchman nodded slowly. "Understood. You just vant zee names? No numbers, or balances?"

"Just the number of deposits. I don't need exact figures. If ... Arthur Weasley deposited fifty thousand Galleons to your bank three times, that is all the information I want."

Peronnet thought for a moment, and Draco saw a manipulative glint in his eyes when he spoke again. "I can have zis for you in three weeks for one hundred Galleons."

Draco didn't even blink. "How much to get the information tomorrow?"

"Five hundred," the man responded, also without pause.

"Done. If the information isn't ready twenty-four hours from now, you won't get the full amount. Every hour it is late, I deduct one hundred Galleons."

"Zat won't be a problem," Peronnet assured him.

"Good. I will come through tomorrow after you open to collect the documents."

Peronnet agreed and Draco severed the connection. He felt a mixture of satisfaction and guilt, the latter due to Hermione's insistence that he not resort to bribes. However, all he wanted was names and frequencies. Nothing useful could be done with the information, so there would be no harm to anyone except the blackmailer, should Draco catch him this way.

He downed his third cup of coffee that morning and went to the next bank on his list.

ooo

Tuesday morning, as Hermione sat talking with Harry, she received a letter. She stared at the enormous, majestic owl that had borne the missive, hesitant to try and remove the note tied carefully to its right leg.

Harry chuckled. "I think Malfoy's trying to compensate for something."

Hermione scowled and hastily untied the twine, freeing the letter. The eagle nipped playfully at her finger and then took off, the force rattling the flatware on the table.

"Are you going to open it?" Harry asked.

She stared at the stiff, white envelope in her hand. Her name was scrawled on the face in what she had come to recognize as Draco's handwriting. For some reason, her heart started beating a little harder.

"No," she finally said, despite wanting to rip into the pretty paper. Draco might have mentioned something about their task, and she didn't want to have to lie to Harry. Of course, she also didn't want Harry around to see her reaction, whatever it might be.

"How personal can it be?" Harry asked, finishing his last piece of toast. "He sent it via the school mail system. He had to know you'd get it in here."

Hermione stood and pushed in her chair. "Regardless, I'll see you at lunch, Harry."

She walked as quickly through the Hall as she could without running or appearing to be in a hurry. As soon as she was in a corridor with no one was around, she rushed into the nearest empty room, locked the door, and went to the window seat. She stared at her name on the envelope for a few seconds, then berated herself for behaving like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

Then she brought the envelope to her nose and inhaled, a slow smile creeping across her face at the familiar aroma of Hawthorne Inks. Then she carefully removed the seal...a silver crane...releasing the card. It, too, was made of stiff, white parchment, a stark "M" printed in black on the front.

Hermione counted to three and opened the card.

Hermione's heart fell as she read, and she felt ridiculous for being so excited about receiving the unexciting note. What had she really expected?

In addition, it sounded as though he had gone against her wishes and contacted the banks for more information. She was even more disappointed and tossed the card on the floor in anger. Again, she asked herself if she expected any different. The honest truth was, yes! She had seen such a wonderful, generous side to Draco in the time she'd spent with him, but she had to again remind herself that those events had been faked. She had no idea which side was truly him, though she suspected it was the side that had deliberately ignored her wishes.

She got up, picked up the letter, and stuffed it unceremoniously back into the envelope. As she walked to her classroom before the first period of the day, her mind drifted to the Friday night before. He had expressed no remorse at the thought of bribing these banks for information, and she wondered about it. What would she have done in his place, considering everything he had been through in the last seven years?

By the time she reached her room, Hermione had convinced herself not to judge him so harshly next time. She couldn't approve of him paying bribes, but then she couldn't condemn him for it either.

ooo

Tuesdays were one of Hermione's favorite weekdays because she and Ginny had a standing lunch date in Diagon Alley.

When Hermione arrived at their usual table, Ginny was flipping through the week's issue of Witch Weekly, a slight frown on her face. "Hi, Ginny," she said, taking the empty seat.

"Well, I must admit, it was nice being able to read about your love life in this publication, and in the gossip section of the newspaper...since I don't get to see you often enough...but there's been nothing printed this week." Ginny set the magazine aside. "Everything okay?"

"Oh! Yes, just fine," said Hermione, smiling confidently. "Draco and I didn't go out last weekend, or all of last week, so I guess there was nothing new to report."

Ginny eyed her friend suspiciously. "You saw him three times in one week, and now it's been nearly two? That doesn't make sense."

"I saw him Friday," Hermione said, feigning interest in the menu that Ginny knew she knew by heart. "We just didn't go out."

"Yeah?" Ginny asked excitedly, reaching over to lower the menu so she could look Hermione in the face. "What did you do?"

"He had me over to his house," Hermione responded lightly, as though it was an ordinary occasion that didn't even merit mentioning. "He cooked," she added, almost as an afterthought.

Ginny's eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise. "He cooked?" she repeated, incredulous. Then she smiled wickedly. "How was it?"

"Delicious," she replied, avoiding Ginny's prying eyes. It was strange, trying to act falsely innocent of something she hadn't really done. Unlike all previous topics, such as what she thought about Draco, or did she like him, this was one she couldn't answer truthfully.

"Not the food, you ninny," Ginny scolded. "You know what I mean, I know you do! You slept with him!"

"Shh!" Hermione hissed, blushing. "It's not something I want broadcasted, you know."

Ginny was grinning now, and she leaned in closer to Hermione. Her voice was low when she spoke. "I demand details! You owe me you know, for those shoes. What was it like? Was he amazing? I've heard he's very talented, that he has a few ... signature moves."

If possible, Hermione's face turned redder. "Ginny! This isn't exactly something I want to dissect. It happened, it was amazing, let's have lunch."

"Oh, no," said Ginny forcefully. "You won't let me talk about Harry, and it's been ages since you've slept with someone who isn't my brother. We are talking about this, in detail. I want to know everything, and I won't accept anything less."

"I'm sorry, you'll have to be disappointed then. I'm not ready to discuss it ad nauseum." Hermione didn't want to make up a host of details she would have to remember later, in case the conversation came up again. "It was ... amazing. That's all you get right now. Let me enjoy it for a while before I have to spill, all right?"

Ginny pouted. "Fine. But you will share; I'll make sure of it."

"If you say so," Hermione agreed lightly, content to worry about the rest later. Who knew? Maybe they would discover the blackmailer and break up before the subject could be broached again. This thought, however, left her feeling unsettled.

ooo

At three minutes before six-thirty, Hermione arrived in the wizarding business section of London, just outside the building which housed, among others, Draco's offices.

The lift told her that Malfoy, Inc. could be found on the seventeenth floor, and she pressed the appropriate button. When the doors opened, she stepped into a small, oval-shaped reception area. A large desk sat in the back left of the room, and ten chairs filled the space to the right. There was a door just behind the desk, and a bright hallway with one wall all windows to its left. Above the desk, where a young man with wavy, dark brown hair sat, "Malfoy, Inc." was spelled out in large, 3-D letters.

The man looked up. "May I help you?"

Hermione walked to the desk. "Yes, I would like to see Mr. Malfoy ... Caleb," she said, locating a name plate on the counter before her. "I believe he is expecting me."

Caleb's smile was a tired one. "Of course, Miss Granger. It's good to finally meet you. I'm Mr. Malfoy's personal assistant, Caleb Matthews."

He extended his hand and Hermione shook it. "Nice to meet you, as well," she said, inwardly shocked that Draco didn't have a woman in the front position of his office. She had expected to be greeted by a buxom, long-legged, gorgeous witch who couldn't count past twenty. Again, she had made an assumption about him that had been utterly wrong.

"His office is the last one down the hall, straight ahead. I'll let him know you're here," said Caleb.

"Thank you." Hermione started down the hall, admiring the view from the large picture windows. On the walls opposite the windows were pictures, generic corporate images that she had seen on the walls of lawyers and doctors offices. She passed eight doors with various name plates, all closed on dark rooms, before reaching the last one, which was open.

She knocked on the door frame anyway.

"Come in." Draco's voice was low.

The office was dark, with most of the shades drawn. A low fire crackled in the fireplace, causing shadows to dance on the walls. Hermione didn't see Draco right away, and she paused after taking a few steps inside, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark. She found him in a chair facing the fireplace.

"Um, hi," she said tentatively, taking a seat in the chair beside his.

"Hello." He still didn't look at her. "Thank you for coming."

"It was no problem. I can't stay long though, I've got a staff meeting tonight after dinner, and I can't be late."

He nodded slowly, not taking his eyes from the fire. "I have information for you. I contacted the banks yesterday and they were reasonable. I asked only for names and transaction frequencies, nothing that might possibly be useful to anyone, should the information fall into nefarious hands." The right corner of his lips turned up in what might have been a smile.

"Oh," she said, oddly pleased that he had thought of her concerns while conducting his business. "Was anything useful?"

He shrugged and brought a drink to his mouth, polishing off the last of the amber contents. "I haven't had the time to look at it. I thought you wanted to do that."

Finally, then, he looked at her, and even in the poor lighting, Hermione saw that he looked exhausted.

"How ... how have you been sleeping?" she asked.

Draco lifted one eyebrow in amusement. "Are you concerned about my well-being?"

"Are you drunk?" she accused with a disapproving glare. On the table beside his chair sat a mostly empty bottle containing the same amber liquid that had been in his cup.

"I sure hope so," he hummed, turning away from her.

Hermione was about to scold him for wasting their time when he extended his arm toward her, a sheet of parchment in his hand.

"I got this today."

She took the note and opened it.

Hermione stared at the hateful words, reading through a second time.

"Care for a drink?" Draco asked, offering her the bottle he had used to refill his glass.

"No .... Is this why you're drinking? This letter?" she asked, surprised.

His return expression was incredulous. "How can you even ask that? It's bloody terrible. Disgusting ...." He trailed off, scowling into his newly filled glass, and drank half of its contents.

"I agree with you, but it's nothing I haven't heard before."

"Really?" he said. "That's awful."

"I think we can use it, actually. Learn more about the blackmailer through it." She bit her lip, reading it again.

"I don't ... What can we possibly learn?" Draco stood and pushed his chair dramatically until it collided with hers, then threw himself into it once more and leaned over to glare at the letter in her hand, as though he could intimidate it into giving up its secrets.

She found his slightly drunken antics amusing. "I would almost certainly say that the blackmailer is a man. Though, from the words alone, that cannot be determined. It's more the tone, I think. Surely, we can rule out a few people, at least."

Draco stared at the letter as though seeing it for the first time. "I know Pansy didn't write that. She doesn't drift to that side of the boat."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh, and he smiled widely at her. "Is there anyone else we can cross off? Anyone who doesn't share these blood superiority beliefs?"

"We'll have to look at the cards," Draco said, frowning as he tried to focus on the letter. "I don't know otherwise. I'm sure a lot of people I work with, though I don't know how many of them, are grey cards."

"That doesn't matter. It's important to rule out as many people as we can."

Draco sighed and finished the last of his drink. "I would never do that, you know. Use you that way. I don't ... don't think like that."

"I know," she said quietly.

"There are very few people I know who are that depraved."

"Maybe this can be a good thing," she said, folding the letter and returning it to him. "If this bloke gets so upset at you over me, maybe he'll make a mistake and slip something into a letter that will expose him."

"Hmm," he said, absently taking the letter and tucking in his robes.

A few minutes passed in strangely comfortable silence. "Where is the bank information?" she asked finally when it appeared Draco had nothing to say.

Draco stood, slowly walked to his desk, and pulled a folder from the top right drawer. "Here," he said, handing it to her. "The bank in Finland wasn't in business seven years ago, so chances are, the blackmailer didn't use that one. But you never know."

"What do you want me to do with all of this?" she asked, flipping through the information.

"I ...." He frowned, then shook his head in frustration. "I'm not thinking today! The cards are at my house; you don't have them." He held out his hand. "I'll take that. Maybe I'll have time this week to look through them."

Hermione nearly gave the folder back to him, but the way his voice strained and the hint of helplessness that flashed through his eyes made her pull it back. "I'll do it. I'll get the cards tonight, or you can bring them to me."

He hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"I've got a light week ahead. I'm positive."

"All right," Draco reluctantly agreed. Then he smiled, feeling the pressure ease slightly from his shoulders. "Thank you."

"You are welcome," she said, returning his smile. "I should be going. I'll be rushing through dinner as it is. I'll be in touch about all of this."

"Friday, right?" he said, walking her to the door.

"Yes. Friday. Bye, Draco."

ooo

Wednesdays were Hermione's busiest days. She had classes from eight in the morning until lunch, then for two more hours in the afternoon. Between lunch and her last class, she usually stopped in her quarters to grab her notes, then she sought a quiet corner of the library in which to read an article or two from the most recent journal she had received.

Just as Hermione remembered to grab an extra bottle of ink, as the one in her bag was almost empty, a chime indicated that someone was calling her through the Floo. She expected to see Draco's face when she answered, but was surprised to see Charlie grinning roguishly at her through the green flames.

"Hello, Hermione!" he said pleasantly.

"Oh! Charlie! Hi!" She set her things on her bed and knelt at the fireplace. "How are you? This ... is unexpected."

"I know, and I'm sorry about that," he said. "I need a favor."

"Sure." All thoughts of Draco had evaporated from her mind as she looked upon the face of the last man she had been in love with. On some days, she still was.

"Friday night, there's this ... thing. I need a date. I had one, but she cancelled on me."

"What time?" she asked without hesitation.

He grinned, a stray lock of hair falling into his eyes. Charlie jerked his head in an attempt to move it, but it fell back. "Can you be here at six?"

Hermione reached over and drew the strand away from his face. "Absolutely."

"You're a lifesaver. It's formal. Do you still have that purple dress?" he asked.

"I do," she replied, feeling caught up as though in a whirlwind.

"Perfect. Six, Friday. My place." He winked. "Miss you, Hermione."

"You too," she replied automatically, smiling. "Bye!"

He grinned and then he was gone.

Hermione stared into the flames, and all of the things she should have considered during her conversation with Charlie flooded her all at once. She was supposed to see Draco Friday night, but he probably wouldn't mind rescheduling for Saturday.

ooo

ooo

Friday evening at nine, Greg Goyle arrived at Malfoy Manor. Draco met him at the door, and together they traveled by Floo Network to the Leaky Cauldron. From there, they headed to a pub in Muggle London, one Draco had visited in the course of his work.

The place was smoky and dark, but Draco nodded in satisfaction. It was perfect for his purposes that evening: spend time with a friend, play a bit of billiards, and slowly but surely get hammered.

"So," said Greg, two hours and many drinks later with a goofy grin on his face.

Draco was hunched over, lining up his next shot. He waited for his friend to continue, and when he didn't, Draco aimed, pulled back on the cue, and took his shot. He missed the pocket. He wasn't very good at billiards, but it relaxed him in a way nothing else could because he didn't care about winning.

"So, what?" he said, standing his cue on end and leaning against a large wooden pillar.

"You and Granger," Greg said as he took his turn. "Never would've seen that one coming."

Draco chuckled. "No, certainly not."

"Anyway, where is she? How come you're out with me and not getting cozy with her?" Greg sunk his shot; he wasn't half-bad.

"She had other plans tonight," Draco replied, searching for his glass. He frowned when he found it empty.

"Yeah?" Greg took aim for his second shot. "Doing what?"

Draco shrugged and signaled for one of the mingling bar maids. "She didn't say."

The woman whose attention he had garnered swayed toward them, her every move designed to encourage the men in the pub to increase their tips. "What'll it be, love," she purred, her eyes taking him in appreciatively.

"Another pitcher of Guinness, please," he replied, handing her a large enough note.

She stuffed it into her cleavage and winked. "Coming right up."

"Why is it that women are always interested in you, Draco?" Greg asked, staring at the remains of his last beer. "You attract them like ... like flies."

"That's a wonderful image," mumbled Draco. "I have found that acting like you don't care about the women around you, like you aren't interested, works particularly well. Of course, even when it's not an act, the result is the same."

"Didn't you ask what she was doing tonight?" Greg asked.

Draco got set to take his next shot. "No. It didn't matter; she was unavailable."

"Yeah, but ... that seems so unlike you," said Greg. "Not to want to know, I mean. You two have only been dating a short time, aren't you worried that ... I dunno, maybe she's ..."

Draco straightened after missing the shot. He hadn't even considered what Hermione might be doing that night. A hint of curiosity formed inside him as he thought about Greg's comments, even though they weren't really dating and only got together now in order to work on the task of investigating the blackmailer. Not only was it none of his business, but he had no right to ask what she was doing, or to care. Greg couldn't know that, however.

"She has her own life. I would gain nothing by demanding she tell me what she's doing when we aren't together. It's Granger. She would never stand for it, and I'd end up with my bits hexed."

The tall, blonde bar maid returned with the pitcher of beer and Draco's change, which she slipped into his hand along with a series of ten numbers written on a scrap of paper. She was gone when Draco grasped their significance, and he crumbled the paper into a ball and stuffed it into his pocket.

Greg smiled nonchalantly. "Speaking of your bits, I heard you slept with her."

Draco frowned. He knew he hadn't told anyone, and only a few people knew their cover story, that Hermione had gone to his house and he had prepared a meal for her. None of those people ran in the same circles, and only two even knew Greg.

"Where did you hear that?" Draco asked curiously.

Greg shrugged and focused on his turn. "Just, around. People talking."

Draco doubted that, but didn't press the matter.

"Is it true?" Greg asked after sinking another ball.

"You know I don't make a habit of discussing these things," he replied. It would be dangerous for him to think too much on the topic; he certainly couldn't dwell on it for any period of time.

"I'm not asking for a blow by blow," Greg said, enjoying his innuendo. "Just ... you know ... did you shag her? She's different than the others."

Draco sighed, his mind beginning to wander. "That's an understatement."

"So, you did?" Greg pressed.

"Yes, Greg. Merlin, since when did you become so interested?" Draco snapped, snatching his cue and walking around the table.

"Since when do you not want to admit when you've slept with someone?" Greg returned.

Draco clenched his jaw, trying to ignore his friend's comment. It was true; he normally didn't hesitate to mention his conquests. He never went into detail, but affirmation was readily provided. This time, he made his shot and then looked at Greg. "This is different, as you said."

"Right. You're in a relationship."

The conversation reminded him too much of the one he had shared with Pansy the week before, and he hadn't enjoyed it then, either. Draco took careful aim and knocked his ball into the black, eight-ball, sending it flying across the table into a side pocket.

"Crap," he muttered. "You win again. Let's take a break."

ooo

"Here to present the award for Outstanding Terrestrial Integration is the head of the International Coalition for the Advancement of Dragon Research, Mister Xavier Montague."

Hermione clapped politely along with the rest of the room from her table near the front. She felt Charlie shift beside her, and when she glanced at him, she saw a line of sweat beading at his hairline. She frowned. It was next to impossible to make Charlie nervous, much less slightly uncomfortable. The temperature was pleasant, so she didn't think he was too hot ....

A strapping man walked to the podium, grinning broadly. The applause faded and he began speaking. "Every four years, this prestigious award goes to one member of our community who has proven him or herself to be concerned with the care of the world around us. Great care is taken in selecting this individual, as he or she gains an enormous responsibility for the coming four years."

Montague cleared his throat, and Hermione could tell the speech would be a long one. Charlie was fidgeting more than she had ever seen him do, and she hoped the night would be over soon so she could ask him what the problem was.

She looked around the table full of Charlie's coworkers to see if anyone else was suffering from whatever had gripped Charlie, but they were all paying attention to the speaker. Charlie's boss kept casting a glance in his direction, but didn't seem to notice Charlie's agitation.

Hermione reached across the table for Charlie's hand, and when he wrapped his large fingers around hers, his hand felt clammy. Still, he gripped her hand as though it was a life-line, the only thing keeping him above a raging sea. Around them, cameras flashed, just as they had been all night, much to her annoyance. Why did people have to be so bloody interested in her all the time? Charlie was also quite famous in Romania, and so combined, they were drawing a number of looks.

Soon Hermione lost the feeling in her hand, but she didn't dare withdraw it. The speaker had moved from the history of the award to describing the man who would be receiving it that night.

"... Not only has he expanded Romania's earth-friendly Dragon Policies, he has discovered a way to reduce damaging smoke emissions by 25% through the careful manipulation of dragon feed."

Montague turned and beamed in the direction of Hermione's table. "It is with great pleasure that the International Coalition for the Advancement of Dragon Research presents this award, for Outstanding Terrestrial Integration, to Mr. Charles Weasley."

The crowd erupted in the loudest applause of the evening. Charlie squeezed her hand and then released it, leaving his seat beside her and walking purposefully to the podium. Hermione stared at Xavier Montague as he joined with the crowd in praise and then clapped Charlie on the back before returning to his seat.

Charlie cleared his throat and pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket. "Thank you, Mr. Montague, distinguished members of the International Board, honored guests." His eyes landed on Hermione then, and he gave her a strained smile.

It was then her brain was jump-started back into action. She stared at Charlie, incredulous that he had invited her for accompany him to "this thing," he had said earlier in a dismissive tone, without letting her know that he was the guest of honor.

Her indignation was short-lived, however, soon replaced with fierce pride. She knew how hard he had worked over the last four years, his efforts focused on improving the lives of the dragons in his care and the conditions in which they lived. He truly deserved this award.

Hermione glanced around the room. Where were his parents? His family? Surely they knew what their son had done, the incredible achievements he had made, and would want to support him on this momentous night!

She didn't see anyone, but then the room was very dark.

"Finally," said Charlie, grinning now that his speech was near its end, "I'd like to thank my family..."

A great whooping cheer went up, and Hermione knew it was George.

Charlie chuckled. "...my family, who has always been there for me, even through impossible times."

Hermione swallowed hard, knowing he referred to their relationship.

"Last, but certainly not least, my most ardent supporter and dearest friend." His eyes fell blazingly on her. "Without you, without your encouragement, your passionate defense of all magical creatures, I wouldn't be here."

Cameras flashed all around them, and Hermione found she was having trouble breathing. Time seemed to stop as they stared at one another, as stars seemed to explode around her.

When he tore his gaze away, time resumed its normal course. The moment had passed and in its wake, Hermione felt empty, cold. Charlie's words were bouncing around in her mind, ricocheting off the walls of her skull, until they were an indistinguishable mass of noise.

Charlie returned to his seat and the cameras went off again. Hermione smiled at him, but it was only pieces of what it had once been. Something was missing; she could feel it in her bones.

After the ceremony concluded, Charlie was bombarded with people congratulating him. Hermione moved away and was soon joined by Harry, Ron and Ginny.

"Didn't expect to see you here," Ron said, his voice strained.

"It was a last minute thing," she responded, trying to sound light-hearted. "He got ditched a few days ago, and, well, I'm the back-up friend."

Ginny was eyeing her so intensely that Hermione couldn't look at her, so she turned to Ron. "I'm so glad your family was here. This is a huge night for Charlie! I had no idea he was getting this award until Montague called his name!"

"Really?" Harry asked. "Charlie didn't tell you?"

"No. But you know him, doesn't like to make a big deal of things."

"Does Malfoy know you're here?" Ron asked accusingly.

Hermione, Ginny and Harry all looked at Ron in surprise. "There isn't anything to tell," Hermione said defensively. She couldn't fathom why Ron would be suddenly concerned about Draco's thoughts on her going somewhere with Charlie. It was almost as if Ron was worried about Draco getting hurt, which made absolutely no sense whatsoever.

The rest of the Weasleys joined them, all chattering at once. Molly, especially, was beside herself with pride. They had all spoken to Charlie now, and he had told them to leave, that the rest would be boring brown-nosing and schmoozing and he appreciated them coming.

It was another hour before Charlie and Hermione could leave. She hadn't been able to speak with him since the evening began and was anxious for the chance to both scold and congratulate him.

Once they were outside the main dining room, well away from cameras and reporters, Charlie let out a long, slow breath, leaning heavily against the wall. "Phew! Glad that's over!"

"Charlie Weasley," Hermione started, crossing her arms over her chest. "I am very angry with you for not telling me that this evening was for you! I was the only person in that room who was surprised...and what a surprise it was!" She beamed at him, relaxing her arms. "I cannot begin to tell you how proud I am!"

He grinned sheepishly and pushed himself off the wall. "I didn't want to tell you, for some reason." He grabbed one of her hands, and they started walking down the hall. "I was going to, I promise, but then my date cancelled and you said you'd come with me, and suddenly it was too hard. I took the easy way out."

"I suppose I can forgive you," she said.

Charlie turned down another hallway and stopped outside a door. "The ... Coalition got me a room here tonight," he said, pulling an old-fashioned key out of his pocket and using it to open the door.

"Yeah?" Hermione asked, following him in. "This is one of the nicest hotels in wizarding Romania, isn't it?"

"Exactly," he said, crossing the room and pulling a bottle of champagne from a bucket of ice.

Hermione's nerves were on fire, pulsing rapidly, almost painfully. She bit her lip as Charlie poured two glasses. He handed one to her and they tapped them together. He took a sip and set his glass down.

She held onto hers, not sure if it would be a good idea to drink the entire thing, or none at all. There were pros and cons for both courses of action.

Charlie moved around the room, examining the luxurious features like a kid who had been given a handful of Galleons and released in a toy shop.

When he disappeared into another part of the suite, Hermione downed her drink and went to look out the window. Her hands were shaking as she parted the sheers and she pressed her cheek to the window, enjoying the feel of the cold air outside.

Before she knew it, Charlie had returned. He had removed his dress robes, tie, and unbuttoned his shirt. "More?" he asked, refilling her glass.

"No, thank you," she said, stepping away from the window. Her eyes darted to the door and part of her felt a strong and foreign desire to run for it.

"I meant what I said." He moved closer, sipping from his glass. "About you being so important to me. To my life."

"You said all of that?" she joked weakly.

Charlie smiled and for a brief instant, they stared at each other, his green eyes intense and full of life and desire. Then he put down the glass in his hand and closed the distance between them, wrapping his strong arm around her waist and pulling her to him.

She gasped as his lips crashed onto hers and he kissed her passionately. He wasn't gentle, but he was careful; he was demanding, but not unyielding. He slipped his tongue through her lips and she sighed, lost the moment she had looked into his eyes.

Charlie reached his free hand to her hair and removed the spell that kept it locked in its perfectly sculpted style. He then threaded his fingers through the thick curls, gripping the hair at the back of her head.

Then his hands began exploring, tracing a familiar route over her body. When his lips left hers to trail down her neck, a single thought broke through the haze that had clouded over her brain, and she stiffened, her eyes flying open.

"Oh!" she breathed.

Charlie stopped and pulled back, his expression confused. "What?" he asked.

Hermione took a small step away and he let her, his frown deepening.

"Hermione, what ... are you ...?"

"It's fine," she said, not sure what question she was answering. Her senses were returning quickly, and it occurred to her why she had wanted to run for the door just moments before. "I ... I can't do this. I'm so sorry!" she whispered, horrified at herself for reasons she couldn't sort out just then.

His jaw tightened. "All right," he said slowly. "It's okay, we ... we don't have to."

Hermione sank into the nearest chair.

Charlie moved to sit on the bed, facing her, waiting.

"I ... I'm seeing someone," she said, tears pricking her eyes.

He hadn't expected that and his eyes widened. "You are? Oh. I see."

"I'm sorry, Charlie."

"Right, then ... What are you doing here? Why did you agree to see me tonight?" he asked.

"You needed me," she answered immediately.

Charlie let out a sigh and shook his head. "Hermione. You know how these things end, how they always end."

She shrugged, feeling ridiculous and foolish. "I ... I didn't really think about that."

"Still, I think you should ask yourself why you kissed me that way, when you're with another man." Charlie chuckled, peering at her through his fringe.

Hermione almost laughed; instead, she smiled. Her thoughts were so jumbled, so confused, that she had no hope of trying to disentangle them until she had time to focus, to think. She couldn't work out what she felt. The thought that had jolted her back into reality had been about Draco; she had thought about him while kissing Charlie. That much she knew.

It was a good thing, too, that Draco had crossed her mind. She shouldn't be sleeping with Charlie when she was supposedly dating Draco. For one thing, Charlie would eventually find out, if he hadn't already, and she couldn't explain the full truth to him because of her promise to Draco.

"It's ... complicated," she said, shrugging. "Impossible. Kissing you was a reaction, it's familiar, and it's natural. We've been like this for years, and I'm not used to being serious with someone." Hermione was surprised at the raw truth of her words. Kissing him was a reaction; she hadn't chosen to kiss him, she had simply done it. Was that a good thing or not?

"You're ... serious?" Charlie repeated.

She nodded without considering if she should have cleared it with Draco first. "You didn't know?"

"How would I have known?" he asked, frustration leaking into his tone.

"It's been in the paper," she offered weakly.

"Oh. We aren't always up to date on the reserve."

"I know."

The silence was heavy and awkward. Hermione wanted to leave, but she didn't want them to part badly. Charlie had been there before Draco and would be there after. This was just a pause.

"Who is it?" Charlie asked, his tone harsh. "I presume it's not a secret, since it's in the popular media."

Hermione bit her lip. "Draco Malfoy."

Confusion and then annoyance showed on his face. "Oh. Huh."

"I should go," she said. "I'm so sorry, please forgive me."

Charlie sighed. "No, I should never assume that just because we've done this in the past, it will always happen." He stood and walked over to her, taking her hand as he continued. "I should have realized that someday, things would change, and this wouldn't be possible anymore. Not that ... this is all we are, Hermione. You know ..." He trailed off; the words weren't necessary.

She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, breathing deeply the rugged scent that was his essence. It didn't set her heart racing the way it once had, the way the smell of Hawthorne Inks now did, and this truth made her sad. Something had changed without her notice, and she hadn't been able to properly grieve its passing.

"I know," she whispered, but couldn't return the sentiment. At least she had the cover of her relationship to excuse it.

Charlie stood and stepped away. "Thank you for coming tonight, Hermione. It was perfect, having you on my arm, by my side."

"Oh, Charlie," she breathed, tears finally spilling over. She rushed to him and hugged him tightly. Why does this feel so much like goodbye?

"Hey," he said, forcing his voice to sound cheerful. "Why the tears? No one has died, I'll see you again. Hey." He pulled her off so that he could look her in the eye. "Okay?"

"I know," she said, smiling. "I know."

"Good. Now, you'd best run along. Don't want Malfoy hunting me down for keeping you out too late."

Hermione started in horror, then laughed at the sheer absurdity of the situation. "Yeah, I should go." She pulled from his embrace entirely. "Congratulations, Charlie. What an honor. I know you deserved it."

"Thank you," he said. "For sharing this with me."

"Of course," she said. "Good night, Charlie."

"Bye, Hermione."

She closed the hotel room door behind her and practically ran outside. The cold air hit her like dozens of tiny spikes, driving the extraneous thoughts and emotions away. Above all, she wanted to see Draco, and the realization made her laugh again. She was going crazy! It made no sense to leave a man who truly cared about her and then want to see a man who was only associating with her because they had agreed to work together toward a mutually beneficial end.

Draco didn't feel anything for her, despite how convincing he was. She had to constantly repeat this in her mind because her heart simply wouldn't accept that nothing he did was real, that nothing mattered. But then there would be moments...the way he'd look at her, something in his tone...when she wondered if maybe her heart was picking up on something her head refused to see. They were just moments, gone as quickly as they appeared, that had tricked her into believing him, just a little.

And it was those moments she had started to hold onto, no matter how much she wished it otherwise.

ooo

A/N: Thanks for reading, as always! I love all of your thoughts on the story and your theories on the blackmailer, and I want to hear more!

Credits: Many thanks to my betas on this chapter, pokeystar & drcjsnider! Thanks to Manda for the last minute read through and help with the title!

Art: I was lucky to end up with two pieces of art for this chapter. The first one is by janaparmajana, and the second piece is by silverotter1.