Winning You With Words

Chapter 15 - - Winning You with Words

- - -

But your sweatshirt says it all with the hood over your face

And I can't keep starin' at your mouth without wonderin' how it tastes

~ Jaymay, "Gray or Blue"

Hermione had a difficult time getting through the next morning. She went to breakfast but was jumpy the entire time. When Blaise brought up their Hogsmeade trip that weekend, she had to ask him what he was talking about.

The worst part was that her only morning class didn't start until ten, so she was left to her own devices for two hours. Normally, she wouldn't be so tense before a mission like this...there had been no time for tension during the war...but after her conversation with Draco the night before, she was reduced to a pile of nerves.

The one thought that continually bombarded her was that she was more than just attracted to him. She wanted something. She had told Sheetal that if Draco had treated her during school the way he did now, she would have gone out with him had he asked. What Hermione had finally admitted to herself was that if he asked her out now and not as part of their work together, she would say yes.

"That will never happen," she muttered to herself as she stared at a journal article she hadn't been reading. Frustrated, she closed the journal and made another cup of tea. A glance at the clock told her only half an hour remained until class, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Hermione collected her books and the graded assignments she had to return and started walking toward her classroom.

Harry caught up with her about halfway there.

"Hi, Harry," she said.

"Hey, Hermione." He smiled briefly, and then his expression turned serious. "I tried to find you yesterday, but you'd disappeared."

"I went to Draco's," she said.

Harry frowned. "Yeah? So ... the article in Witch Weekly ... You and Charlie?"

Hermione sighed and leaned against the railing of the staircase. "That article is rubbish. I went with Charlie as a favor. I can't believe you'd give any credence to what Rita Skeeter has to say."

"I didn't," Harry assured her. "It just made me wonder, is all. I heard Charlie's speech, saw the way he looked at you. It's none of my business; who you're with should make you happy. I thought you were happy with Malfoy."

"I am." She smiled. "Although I'm surprised that you're questioning me about this. I thought you'd be thrilled to hear I wasn't with Draco anymore."

Harry shook his head. "I want you to be happy, that's all. With Malfoy ... I don't know, it's different. Being with him seems easy for you. That's great, that's exactly what it should be, for the most part. Sure, it'll require work for the relationship to really last, but so far ... you're the happiest I've ever seen you. Maybe even happier than when you were with Charlie. That's what I want for you, Hermione."

"Oh, Harry," she said, wishing she didn't have her arms full so she could hug him. "I think you're absolutely right. I'm surprised every day how ... right it feels with Draco."

"Ron wants you happy, too. He was less than thrilled to see you with Charlie." Harry shook his head. "I never thought I'd see the day when he preferred Draco Malfoy to his own brother. Guess those jealous feelings haven't entirely disappeared.

"Was that his problem?" she asked.

"Yes. I finally got it out of him." He chuckled. "Ron can be quite stubborn too, you know."

"You certainly don't have to tell me." Hermione resumed her course.

"Oh, listen. Molly asked me to pass along an invitation to the Burrow Saturday night," Harry called after her.

"I'll be there," she promised.

"Malfoy's invited too," he added.

Hermione rushed to the railing to look down at Harry. "Really?"

"Yeah." The staircase was now moving him further away from her.

"Okay, I'll talk to him! Thanks, Harry!"

The class flew by, and Hermione's thoughts turned to the dinner invitation. Would Draco accept? It wouldn't do anything for their public reputation, but it would certainly go a long way toward keeping up the image that they were together for her friends. She hoped he would, in part so that Charlie could hear about it.

Hermione suspected that, even after her 'relationship' with Draco ended, her feelings for Charlie wouldn't return. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that yet. As he seemed to still care very much for her, she thought it would be good for him to get accustomed to her being with someone else.

After class, Hermione had a free period to get through before she could go to lunch with Ginny. She went to her room and double-checked everything she had put into her magic bag: cloak, sunglasses, various hats and hair ties, and a few Extendable Ears. Most importantly was the International Portkey Draco had set up for her. It was a small, pewter replica of the Eiffel Tower, appropriate for a trip to Paris.

Unable to sit still, Hermione left for Diagon Alley early. It would be better to walk off her surplus energy than drive herself crazy by sitting around.

The sun was bright despite the cool air, and the magical street was bustling with activity. Hermione walked the length of it, then checked her watch: ten until noon. Draco was going to make his deposit in precisely one hour, ten minutes before two, Paris time, and she needed to be in place before then. That would mean cutting her lunch with Ginny a bit short, but she knew her friend wouldn't mind.

Ginny was already at their table when Hermione arrived, sipping on a cup of tea.

"You're early," Hermione remarked.

"I had an appointment this morning and got out before I expected," Ginny explained.

"How's your week?" Hermione asked after giving her order to the waiter.

"Good, tiring. James is getting into everything he can get his hands on." Ginny chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh, hey, did Harry mention dinner?"

"He did," Hermione affirmed. "I haven't had a chance to talk to Draco yet, but I hope he'll be available."

Ginny smirked. "Whether he'll want to come is another matter, I take it."

Hermione couldn't help but smile. "I think he's come to terms with the fact that he has to interact with my friends eventually."

"Okay, now that's out of the way. Details, Hermione, don't leave any out," Ginny commanded in the same no-nonsense tone she had used the week before.

Thinking about sleeping with Draco was the last thing Hermione needed at that moment. "Not now, Ginny. I'm afraid I'm not in the mood."

"And I'm afraid I can't let you off this time," Ginny remarked. "Charlie is my brother, and you're my friend. I care about what happens to you, and if there's something going on, I should hope you would tell me about it! Besides, I'm sure Draco saw that ... that dirty gossip rag. What did he have to say?"

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, relief flooding through her. "I'm sorry, Ginny, I thought you meant something else." Then she repeated the conversation she had shared earlier with Harry.

"You're sure you aren't still carrying a torch for Charlie?" Ginny asked after she'd finished.

"Positive." Hermione tried to smile convincingly.

"I just want you to be sure. I think Charlie's still in love with you." Ginny took a sip from her water.

Hermione waited for the explosion of butterflies that she usually experienced when she allowed herself to think that Charlie really did still care for her. It didn't come.

"I think ...." Hermione paused. Ginny knew most of her musings on the matter and what she was about to say would come as quite a shock. "I think I'm starting to finally get over Charlie."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Really?"

She nodded. "I'm almost certain. I never imagined this would happen, but it is."

"That's amazing!" Ginny beamed. "I'm just glad you're finally moving forward with your life, instead of half-waiting for my brother to stop being such a coward."

Hermione laughed.

Ginny raised her cup to drink. "I'd put money on the fact that a certain blond-haired wizard is at least partially responsible for getting your mind and heart away from Charlie."

Just then, Hermione's wand buzzed, telling her that she had five minutes before the Portkey would activate. "Oh no, Ginny! I've got to go." She stood, counted out her half of the bill and grabbed her purse.

"What? We've barely gotten started!" Ginny protested.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise!" Hermione let herself out of the gate that surrounded the outdoor eating area and darted down the street. She felt terrible for her hasty retreat, but she didn't want Ginny asking any questions.

Hermione flitted down an alley, pulled the statue from her purse, and waited for the familiar pull at her navel. When the spinning stopped, she found herself in a dark alleyway. Draco had said she would be close to the bank, so Hermione donned her sunglasses and put on a hat and headed toward the street.

The bank, a BNP Paribas, was on the Place Saint Andre Des Artes, one block to her left. Hermione confidently walked toward it, her head held high. As she neared the steps leading up to the old building, a man with bright blond hair exited, glanced in her direction, and then walked away.

Her heart leapt; she knew it was Draco, just leaving after putting the money in his safety deposit box. Hermione then entered the bank and set about her task for the afternoon: watching for someone to request access to the same safe deposit box.

Draco had rented a high security box, the kind that required the bank manager's key to open. Hermione's biggest concern was remaining in the bank, undisturbed, for the entire afternoon. In general, customers didn't loiter in banks, and if she merely stood around, someone would get suspicious or, at the very least, attempt to speak with her.

Draco had considered this, however, and had a solution: she would open a new account at the bank. He had given her a wad of Muggle money for the initial deposit, large enough to warrant the attention of the manager, whom he knew from experience spoke rough English.

The account would take a while to open, and Hermione would have the manager's attention. If anyone came to open a deposit box, she would know.

Opening the new account took about an hour, as Hermione and Draco had anticipated. The language barrier had been a slight hindrance, but the cash sped things along. So Hermione inquired about other bank services, and their explanations took another thirty minutes. When she couldn't legitimately keep the manager occupied any longer, she requested a safety deposit box. An assistant manager would help her with that, but she would still have access to the room and could therefore see anyone who entered.

The deposit box was rented and paid for a full year. Hermione thanked the woman who had helped her and checked her watch: four. The bank would close at quarter after five; she had an hour and fifteen minutes left.

She decided to inquire about a home loan and sat filling out paperwork for another half an hour. A French-English dictionary was all she had with her, and it took her a long time to get through the words on the loan application. However, she took her seat right outside the manager's office. It was also beside a water cooler and snack machine, the offerings of which she partook about halfway through the form.

Hermione saw the bank manager go into the restroom. She quickly decided she needed to think about the loan and hurried into the women's room and quickly altered her appearance. She took her hair out of the tight bun, put on a pair of fake prescription glasses, pulled off the floor-length dress to reveal a skirt and tank top, and popped a piece of chewing gum in her mouth.

When she returned to the lobby, no one recognized her, and she stood in the long line of people waiting to be helped by the tellers. She kept one eye on the bank manager's office and chewed her gum loudly, drawing annoyed looks from the other patrons.

By the time she reached the counter, only five minutes remained until closing. Then she suddenly remembered she'd forgotten her account number and promised to return the next day.

Hermione left the bank, feeling quite pleased with herself for her success at being able to stay for so long, but also disappointed that nothing had happened. No one had come for the money. She wouldn't be able to come back the next day, and she knew Draco had a lot of work to do.

She returned to the alley and waited for the Portkey to activate once more, returning her to Hogsmeade. At precisely five-twenty-three, the Portkey whisked her away, dropping her safely in the "Arrivals" area at the end of the main road of the small magical town.

The elation accompanying her success had waned, and Hermione was left feeling despondent. She had been certain that they would learn something useful today. She shrugged to herself. There was no use fretting about it.

Hermione Apparated to the edge of the wards around Hogwarts and walked the rest of the way to the castle. Once inside, she went straight to her room to write a letter.

After a quick trip to the owlery, the letter was on its way. She took her time walking back, her thoughts turning to the brief moment she had seen Draco earlier that day. It had been reassuring and strengthening to see him after their intense disagreement the night before. Just knowing that he was still there, still going forward with the plan, and that he hadn't decided to cut her out of his life, had eased a few of her worries.

His expression had been blank when he had glanced at her, but his eyes were alight with anxiety. She might have been imagining it, transplanting her own reaction at his presence onto him, but she thought she saw him relax, just a little bit, when he caught sight of her.

ooo

Hermione received a letter the next morning between her fifth- and seventh-year classes. It was from Draco. Knowing the room would begin filling up at any moment, she ripped into the envelope and opened the card.

The letter was abrupt and void of even the little humor his last one had contained. That bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

When all of her students had taken their seats, Hermione forced a smile. "To begin today, I would like a brief update on your progress. Write out what you have done so far and how you plan to spend the rest of your time in order to achieve your goal. You have half an hour."

Most of the class looked slightly stricken, and Hermione suspected they had been letting the assignment slide.

While they worked, Hermione went over the previous afternoon again, looking for anything she missed. Without a Pensieve, it was really impossible for her to remember details about things she did not pay attention to. She would ask to borrow Minerva's Pensieve after lunch.

When the time was up, Hermione called for their parchments. Two of the groups seemed unfazed, but the third, the one with Corey, Damian, and Karalynn, appeared nervous.

"Now we will begin a discussion of the use of Arithmancy in Divination." Hermione stood and went to the board. "The author of your book has an opinion on the matter. Does anyone remember?"

Samaya raised her hand. When Hermione nodded to her, she said, "Something to the effect that, when used in conjunction, the two disciplines can yield powerful results."

"Do you agree?" she asked the entire class. After a few moments of silence, she smiled. "Don't everyone speak at once. Really, by this point in your studies, you should have an opinion. I know all of you have taken Divination, so ... don't be afraid to disagree with the author. He's just one wizard."

Evan hesitantly put his hand up. "I think they can be used together, but I don't know about 'powerful results.'"

Hermione cheered internally. "Why do you say that, Evan?"

"If it was true, then wouldn't someone have already discovered it?" he ventured. "Learned how to use this ... power?"

"That seems like a reasonable conclusion," she replied. "These disciplines have been in existence for centuries, and not much has changed in either one. Now, anyone else?"

The class flew by, and soon Hermione was heading to the Great Hall for lunch. It would be a hurried meal today, as she needed to use Minerva's Pensieve.

When she was back in her room after securing the use of the magical device for the day, she pulled the memory from the bank out of her head and sent it into the swirling grey liquid. With a deep breath, she touched the liquid's surface.

Hermione landed in the lobby of the bank. She followed herself through the path she'd taken the day before, but paid attention to everything around her. No one was free from suspicion: the other people in the bank, the employees, the security guard. Security ....

Quickly she scanned the corners of the rooms and smiled at what she saw: video cameras. She would be willing to wager that there were cameras in the safety deposit box room as well as behind the counters and in the back of the bank. If she could get those videos, then she might be able to see if someone, even magically, entered the bank and somehow opened the box.

Without waiting to watch the entire memory, Hermione exited the Pensieve. A glance at the clock showed that she had an hour and twenty minutes before her next class. That wasn't enough time to set up International transportation, get into the bank, somehow get the video, get back to England, and be ready for her class. However, if she already had a Portkey ready when class ended, she could easily get to the bank with plenty of time to spare.

Hermione went to her fireplace and put in a Floo-call to Draco's office.

His personal assistant answered. "Hello, Mr. Malfoy's office. Ah, Miss Granger," said Caleb with a pleasant smile.

"Hi, Caleb. Is Draco available?" she asked.

"He's in a call at the moment. Would you like to hold?"

"Sure," she said. Caleb and his desk disappeared, and she was treated to a slowly moving panoramic ocean scene, complete with beach sounds. The wizarding equivalent of call-waiting.

Only a few minutes passed before Draco's office came into focus, and she saw him looking anxiously into the fire.

"Hermione," he said formally.

"Hi, Draco." She gave him a quick smile before launching into her request. "I need a favor. I have this idea that I think might work, but it's a bit complicated."

"Name it," he said.

"I need a Portkey to Paris, same place as yesterday, for two-fifteen our time. Set it to return me to Hogsmeade two hours, ten minutes later."

Draco frowned. "You're going back to the bank?"

"Yes. I can't really explain right now. I'll write to you when I return." She needed him to simply agree without asking any questions. Time was of the essence.

"All right," he agreed warily. "Do you still have the one you used last time?"

She nodded. "Do you need it?"

"No," he answered slowly, "they'll be able to just reconnect it, since the location is the same."

Hermione smiled warmly. "Thank you, Draco."

He seemed to be fighting with himself about reacting and eventually just nodded rapidly. "You're welcome. Make sure to let me know what this is all about later."

"I will! I promise!" Hermione was about to end the connection when a thought occurred to her. "Draco, wait!" she called.

He reappeared, his expression one of mild interest.

"Do you think it would be okay to use magic today? Since the money has already been taken?"

Draco's brow furrowed. "I-I'm not sure, I hadn't thought of it. I don't see why not. Hermione, what are you doing?"

"No time to explain. Thanks again!" She didn't wait for a reply to exit the Floo, and she sat on the floor and breathed a sigh of relief. She would have to end her class early today, but that was all right. As it was, she would only have two hours to get the video, and she had no idea yet how to accomplish it.

ooo

Hermione stared at the outside of the bank for a good ten minutes before she decided to simply Disillusion herself. If the blackmailer found out, he couldn't do anything but forbid magic at any time for future occasions. None of his letters mentioned anything about magic after the deadline had passed.

She returned to the alley and performed the spell, then stepped back into the plaza. Once she was outside the bank doors, she only had to wait a few minutes for someone to open the door so she could sneak in.

The same was true for the door that led into the back of the bank. However, finding the video would not be an easy task. Hermione tried to think of any movies she had seen that would help, but nothing came to mind. With no other choice, she resorted to going through the rooms, one by one.

Half an hour later, she found the monitoring room. Two men sat at a desk and watched eight small monitors, each displaying a different scene.

"Stupefy!" she whispered, and the men slumped in their seats. Hermione quietly shut the door behind her and locked it, then propped the men up to look like they were still watching the monitors and put them under the full Body-Bind. From the outside looking in, nothing would appear amiss.

Frantically she searched for anything that would help, only to discover that all the recordings were digital.

"Blast!"

Hermione glanced around the room for a spare disk on which she could put the information. Silently she thanked her parents for buying a computer and that they had needed her help to set up. She successfully navigated through the hard drive, but when she came to the archived video data and attempted to put it on a CD, a password was required. Briefly, she considered reviving one of the guards and getting the code from him, but dismissed it. Time was running short.

There was a spell she had heard of from Harry, who had a friend who was in Magical Law Enforcement. It could provide magical passwords for low-level security. She wondered if the spell could be modified to work on Muggle electronic equipment. Somehow she doubted it and didn't want to risk deleting the information entirely.

With just forty-five minutes remaining, Hermione decided to watch the video from the day before and use a Pensieve to examine it later. She clicked on the appropriate day, and eight images popped up. She couldn't focus on them all at once, but she knew they'd be reviewable in the Pensieve. She kept most of her attention on the safety deposit room and the back rooms of the bank, especially the room directly behind the deposit boxes, where bank employees had access to the wall behind the boxes. Then she put the video on fast-forward, starting from when Draco entered with the manager and made the deposit.

To her delight, the video ran even after the bank closed, and she got all the data from the time Draco was there to when he returned to check the box. Surely they would be able to see something; the money couldn't simply disappear into thin air.

She now had only five minutes before the Portkey was set to activate, but it didn't matter where she was if she was invisible. Hermione unlocked and opened the door and had just revived the guards when it activated, sending her hurtling through space to Hogsmeade.

Hermione felt triumphant, and it was evident in her letter to Draco.

His response later that evening was disheartening because she'd been hoping for a positive sign from him, something to show that they were okay. Instead she got a very short note that left her feeling less than enthusiastic.

ooo

Draco was anxious. In the days since he had last seen Hermione, he had tried to keep his thoughts focused on work and on trying to identify the blackmailer. Besides, he had no reason to think of her now that he'd mucked everything up. His world seemed far bleaker without the hope that had unknowingly taken root deep inside him.

Now she was due back at his house in a few minutes, and he was going to spend a large portion of his weekend with her. He wasn't sure how to act around her anymore.

He heard the Floo activating from his bedroom and took a deep breath.

"Draco?" she called.

"I'm coming." He joined her in the closet-room in time to see her removing her cloak.

"Hi." Her smile was timid, but it still set his heart racing.

"Hello," he returned awkwardly. Draco indicated the Pensive on the coffee table. "Shall we begin?"

"Right now?" she asked, puzzled.

Draco remained near the doorway and crossed his arms. "Well, yes. What else is there to do?"

Hermione's expression was confused, and she stood with her jumper half on, just her right arm through the sleeve. "I-I ... shouldn't have assumed. I'm sorry. Would you mind if I ran to the kitchen and found something to eat?"

He blinked. She had been expecting dinner, and why wouldn't she? Every night they had worked together, he had gladly provided the meal. "No, no," he said. "I'll call Chippy to bring us something."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." He forced a smile. "I wasn't thinking."

"If you'd like," she started, pulling her jumper completely off, "I could tell you about my day yesterday while we wait."

He agreed, and Hermione relayed her trip back to the bank. She became quite animated, clearly pleased with the success of her venture. As she talked, Draco slowly relaxed. Thankfully, she wasn't behaving any differently than she had before, so maybe things wouldn't be horrendously awkward.

Dinner arrived before she had finished, and he ate in strained silence as she talked through the first half of the meal.

Then she abruptly stopped, set down her fork and frowned.

"What?" he asked.

"This .... You. I don't want things to be weird between us."

Draco resolutely did not meet her eyes. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't give me that," she said. "Ever since I got here you've been stiff and distant. It's just us, I know, but you can't be like that. We've got a relationship to fake."

There was no way he was going to confess to her that he was stiff and distant because he wanted her and she was in love with another man.

"It's nothing. I've had a long week," he explained. That much was true, at least. "I'll be back to normal by our date tomorrow night."

Hermione tilted her head slightly and looked at him thoughtfully. "Draco, may I ask you something?"

"Sure," he replied warily.

She placed her fork on her plate and took a breath. "I've seen a few different sides to you, and I was wondering which one was the real Draco Malfoy."

He frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Are you the man I see on our dates? Who laughs easily, makes silly, snarky jokes and intelligent conversation?" She smiled shyly. "Or are you really angry and snappish, which I've seen break through the exterior on an occasion or two. Maybe you're the man I see most often, weary and aged beyond your years."

Draco shifted awkwardly. The question made him uncomfortable. "I ... don't have a good answer for you. Can't I be all three?"

She smiled. "Oh sure, everyone has sides to their personalities. I was merely wondering which one was predominant."

He sighed. "I don't know. I'm just ... me. This is me. I don't sit around and feel sorry for myself, but I also don't have a lot to be happy about."

Hermione considered his words, really gave thought to them in light of what she knew about his life and what she had learned over the past month. His childhood was pampered, he was the apple of his mother's eye, and he got everything he wanted. When Voldemort returned, he had expected that life to improve; instead, his father had landed in Azkaban, and he had been given the task of killing Dumbledore or his own parents would be killed.

That year had been very difficult for him, and in the end, he couldn't do it. The following year he had spent trying to be invisible...to his parents, Voldemort, the teachers at school, and even, to some degree, his own friends. Immediately after the war ended, his father was once again sent to prison, and the job of running a multi-million Galleon company had been dropped in his lap with no training and no help. Then, to top it all off, he received the blackmail letters, a burden he couldn't share with anyone. In the seven years that followed, he worked almost every waking moment to make his life, and the life of his mother, tolerable, without letting her know their financial strains.

No, she doubted he had much to smile about.

"That's ... not fair," she said finally.

Draco looked at her, resignation on his face. "That's life, Hermione. That's my life, anyway. No one ever promised it would be fair."

"So you don't know who you really are."

His eyes were heavy with sadness that he couldn't hide. "I would very much like to find out some day."

They were silent for a while, and Draco was lost in his thoughts. He had never been allowed to simply be, to float indeterminately until something struck his fancy. When the mess with the blackmailer was finished, he looked forward to discovering what he wanted for his future.

One thing he knew for certain: he wanted to love and be loved. It was impossible for him not to think of Hermione as he considered this, and he thought it was strange how easy it was now to admit he cared for her, wanted her, fancied her. Perhaps because he knew he couldn't have her, there was no risk in the admission.

"Are you ready to begin?" Hermione asked.

He nodded and followed her to the sofa.

Carefully, Hermione removed the memory and put it in the Pensieve. "I'll go first," she said and then dipped her finger into the iridescent fluid.

When she disappeared, Draco took a deep breath before plunging a fist through the liquid's surface. He arrived beside Hermione in a small room. Two men sat apparently lifeless in chairs, and one wall was covered with small television screens. Draco knew enough about Muggle technology to recognize them.

"Over here," Hermione said, motioning to where a third chair was Summoned, seemingly out of nowhere.

Then he remembered that she'd been invisible. Together they watched the video screens as they sped through the nineteen hours of footage in a little over half an hour. Nothing interesting happened in the safety deposit box rooms, but at about eleven-thirty at night, according to the timestamp on the video, someone entered the room on the opposite side of the wall from Draco's box, removed a picture from the wall, and opened a back door to the box. The money was removed, the picture replaced, and the person disappeared.

Draco and Hermione left the memory, and Hermione sat staring at the Pensieve. "I can't believe it," she said after a while.

"Did you get a good look at the man?"

"Yes, I saw him yesterday and today. He works for the bank, as a teller. It's not a very prominent position ...." She shook her head. "What I don't understand is why no one noticed! It's on video!"

Draco frowned. "Either no one monitors the videos at night, and since no one has reported anything stolen, they haven't bothered to look, or whoever is watching the videos has been given an incentive not to notice anything."

"I'm almost certain that a guard sits in that room twenty-four hours a day. If that man in the video is a bank employee, what is he doing getting the money like that for the blackmailer?" Hermione stood and started slowly pacing.

"The blackmailer might have an accomplice, who got a job at the bank for just this purpose. Or...and this is my gut instinct...the blackmailer put the employee under the Imperius and possibly the night guard as well."

She stopped and turned to face him, leaning against the wall. "You think Dark magic is involved?"

Draco nodded. "It's the most likely scenario. The blackmailer's already shown no qualms in using Dark Arts with the spell on the letters. Since this employee isn't someone either of us recognizes, I think we can almost certainly rule out a willing accomplice. The Imperius fits, Hermione."

"You're right, it makes the most sense," she said. "However, I'm still going to check on that man, see if he's a Muggle or wizard, find out when he was hired."

"And how are you going to do that?" he asked, one eyebrow rising on his forehead.

"The bank is open on Saturday. I'll go in, try to talk to him. Flirt a little, if I have to." She smiled and shrugged. "I'll figure out something."

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know that it would be such a good idea for you to flirt with him," he said, trying not to sound too upset at the idea.

"It'll be harmless, I'm sure," she returned.

"What if he is a wizard? An accomplice or even the blackmailer in disguise? He'll surely recognize you, and then you could be in danger."

Hermione scoffed. "I'll be in disguise, and besides, I think I can handle him."

Draco stood and went toward her. "It's not that I'm worried about your abilities, Hermione. If my fears are confirmed, then we're dealing with a Death Eater. I don't want you getting too close. You're already a target because we're dating. I won't risk it."

Hermione wavered between annoyance that he thought his word was final where she was concerned and feeling flattered that he was clearly worried about her well-being. "Do you really think we are dealing with a Death Eater?" she asked, steering the conversation in another direction. She would go to the bank Saturday, whether he wanted her to or not.

"Yes," he said gravely. "I've always had my suspicions; I knew it was someone who practiced Dark Arts, but now ... with the Imperius ... Have you heard of Occam's razor?"

"Of course," she said. "All things being equal, the simplest explanation is best."

"The simplest explanation in this case is that a Death Eater is blackmailing me, using some hapless Muggle to retrieve the money and somehow get it to him, and then living a like a king on my money." Draco didn't bother trying to hide his anger. "If I'm right, this situation just became more dangerous for you," he said. "I don't want you taking any unnecessary risks. This is my problem, I will handle it."

Her eyes widened. "You don't want my help anymore?"

"What? No!" he blurted. "I mean, yes, I still want your help. But the field work goes to me from now on."

"That's ridiculous," she argued, crossing her arms. "I am more than capable of completing whatever mission we devise."

Draco took a step nearer, his expression torn. "Please don't misunderstand me, Hermione. I would never question your capability. But I cannot ask...I won't ask...for you to put yourself in danger for this problem which is solely my own."

Hermione inhaled sharply. The look in his eyes was almost ... desperation? Why would he be so adamant against her future participation? "You don't have to ask."

Her statement surprised him. He knew she was fiercely loyal, but he had never anticipated that loyalty would ever include him. Draco was touched, but he also knew he wouldn't be convincing her, either. He decided to let it go and deal with it if the subject resurfaced.

"I appreciate that," he said with a half-smile. Merlin, she'd made him forget that she was in love with someone else. He hadn't noticed that they had moved and were standing only a few feet from each other, and now when he looked into her eyes, he saw that she had just made the same realization.

"Let's talk about tomorrow," he said, retreating from where she stood and returning to an armchair.

"That's right; we have a date to plan." She smiled warily.

"I have three options for you, and it's your choice." He clasped his hands in his lap. "One, the Russian Magical Philharmonic is in London for two performances, one tomorrow night. It's supposed to be quite a show; they've combined Muggle and magical instruments."

She merely nodded, and he continued. "Two, there is a book reading in Hogsmeade with Geralyne Hanswick, and she'll also be signing her latest book."

Hermione gasped. "I love all of her novels!"

Draco raised an eyebrow and silently thanked Blaise for his information. "Finally, there is an important Quidditch game between England and Spain. Both teams are undefeated, and the winner will claim the top spot in the rankings. The choice is yours."

Hermione nearly blurted out the book reading, but then she stopped to think. That choice would be mostly for her, and the fact that Draco had even suggested it sent the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Clearly he'd been thinking about her with that option.

They would probably both enjoy the symphony, but it was such a formal occasion, and they would be required to sit in silence the entire evening.

The Quidditch game, however, would be mostly for Draco. That was her choice, and she told him so.

His jaw dropped. "A-are you certain?"

"I am," she replied firmly. "Just tell me what colors to wear."

Draco then narrowed his eyes at her. Never in his wildest dreams would he have guessed she would pick the Quidditch game, and he was instantly suspicious. "Why?"

Hermione laughed. "I can't tell you my nefarious plot, Draco. That would ruin the surprise!"

He relaxed and sighed. "In all seriousness: why? I thought you hated Quidditch?"

"I don't hate it, never have," she explained, taking a seat on the sofa. "I've never understood the appeal, but I have always enjoyed cheering for Gryffindor, and for Ireland at the World Cup. It's an exciting sport, and I'm sure I'll have a good time."

"Better than the other two?" he asked skeptically.

"Maybe, maybe not." She shrugged. "I know you'd enjoy Quidditch the most, that you never take a break from your work, never take a holiday, and that you're always stressed about finances and the blackmailer. This date is for you as much as for me, so ... That's why."

Draco had wanted to kiss her on a few occasions before, but that was the first time he really had to struggle to refrain. It wasn't that she had said yes to the game, by far his first choice, but that she had done it for him. She was right; in the seven years he had been head of Malfoy, Inc., he hadn't taken a single day off work. When he was sick, he'd simply worked from his bed. He had been to various events, even a Quidditch match or two, but they were all business related. Not one had been simply for fun.

Hermione noticed the strange way Draco was looking at her, and her heart started pounding. They weren't exactly close, she was at the far end of the sofa from where he sat in his chair, but he looked as though he might leap across that space and kiss her. She would not have objected.

The moment passed, and Draco shifted in the chair. "Quidditch it is, then. England's colors are blue and gold."

"Lovely," she remarked, more disappointed than she could have anticipated that the kiss didn't happen. "What time should I be here?"

"The game begins at six. I'll get us a box, and we can have dinner there," he said.

"Maybe we shouldn't get a box," she said, thoughtful. "The more I think about it, the more I realize what a good choice the match is."

"Oh? How so?"

"I would imagine a lot of people will be there, and more people will see us. It'll be a great chance to show them that the whole business with Charlie really was nothing. They'll see us together, happy, and then Rita's rubbish won't matter anymore." She smiled at her conclusion.

"Good point." Draco returned the smile and then quickly decided he needed to be anywhere but in an enclosed space with her a minute longer. He stood from his seat and began tidying the room.

Hermione got the message. "Well, tomorrow then," she said, activating the Floo. "What time should I arrive?"

"How about five-thirty?" he suggested. "That will give us time to get there and find our seats without worrying about missing the opening whistle."

"All right." She smiled. "Good night, Draco."

"Good night, Hermione."

His back was to her, and she smiled as she stepped into the waiting flames. Hopefully the whole unpleasant business about Charlie and Carrie was behind them, and they could move forward with their task.

And maybe something more.

ooo

A/N: Thanks for reading!! Art for this chapter was done by moonjameskitten. Be sure to check it out! See the link on my profile. You can also find the link to the playlist, done by inadaze22. Chapter title taken from one of the songs on this week's playlist, Gray or Blue, by Jaymay.