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The lightbulb flickered, causing unexplainable shadows to dance over the walls of the dilapidated house right on the Camden Docks. Where the fuck was he? She didn’t have time to wait for him this long. Kingsley was waiting for his intel waiting probably not patiently in her office and Christ she didn’t want him snooping in there. Her anxiety made it clear she hadn’t even turned a page in the novel she had brought to kill the time it normally took for Malfoy to come to the shack. Today however he was unusually late.
After what felt like another eternity the noise of the door opening finally made her shift her gaze from the spot of condensation on the wallpaper to the figure standing in the doorway.
“Malfoy, you’re late.” She said turning her seat so she could face him across the table.
“Inspector Granger,” the blonde said running a hand through his hair, “I thought you’d appreciate the fact that I took a shower before I came over to this shithole.” He made a scene of scrunching up his nose before sitting down on the dusty chair facing her. “You do know that I’ve got this more than acceptable townhouse in Kensington.”
“Do you mean that one scrawling with all of your boss’s cronies?” Hermione asked.
“I do also have the country house in Wiltshire,” he grinned.
“I’m not really up for a two hour drive every time we want a debrief from you, Malfoy.”
“Could be fun, us together in a car.” He winked as he sat himself on the creaking chair facing her.
“Let’s just talk about the reason you called me here, I hope it was not just because you wanted to see me.” Hermione tried to steer the conversation in the right direction.
“What if I did?” Malfoy grinned.
“Please tell me you’ve got something.” Hermione groaned, Malfoy just loved to get under her skin, and he also seemed to know the exact way to do so as quickly as possible.
“The Carrow liquidation squad will back from Eastern Europe next week,” Malfoy started, “So Shacklebolt might want to up the security of certain personnel of the Metropolitan Police and other likely targets.”
“Thank you I will give him the message,”
“And watch out yourself.”
That last line surprised her. She knew Malfoy was fond of her in that I don’t care to go about the whole meeting a new handler again kind of way. However, the tone in his voice made it sound like he deep down cared about her wellbeing.
Hermione hadn’t noticed she had been in her own mind for quite some time, until Malfoy’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Anything else?” He asked, “I’ve got this meeting with Nott and I think the boss would find it suspicious if I’m late, I think I’ve overplayed the shagging random birds excuse this month.”
“No, no, please go, I don’t want your boss to be suspicious.” Hermione quickly recovered.
“I’ll be doing my best to find a new intel Inspector, just so I might see you again just that little bit sooner.” Malfoy stood from the chair and made his way to the door.
Before she could answer the door had shut and she wasn’t sure when she’d see him again, and in what kind of state. She sincerely hoped he wasn’t actually going to go out of his way to find more intel simply to see her again. It was what Kingsley liked; Malfoy’s intel had saved many lives in the past year. Either by notifying the police about arriving murder squads in time for them to up the security of high-level targets or even information on generals in the mob which made it possible to arrest some of them.
Hermione didn’t leave the house in Camden immediately; she could help but sit and muster over the feeling of dread she had felt the moment Malfoy had closed the door. Was it weird she wanted him to be safe?
Hermione was working on her desk on all the paperwork which was often the result of the snippets of information Malfoy provided her with when her phone went off. For some reason she felt anxiety creeping up her spine.
I’m picking you up at the corner of Parliament and St George in 15 minutes.
It was from an unknown number, but it could only be from one person. And deep down she knew, he was in some kind of trouble and it was with the higher ups, otherwise he wouldn’t have texted her. She quickly grabbed her stuff and headed out of the building.
When she arrived on the corner where Malfoy was expecting her, she tried to be in sight for him to spot her but also be just as everyone else around her just in case more people were watching the intersection.
Not long later a black Porsche screeched to a halt right in front of her feet. “Get in, Granger,” She could hear his distinctive drawl before she could even turn around to face him. The danger of the situation was clear in his voice, so clear she didn’t hesitate any longer and quickly got into the car. Before her door had even closed, Malfoy was speeding off again.
“What the actual fuck is going on Malfoy?” She crossed her arms and turned to face him, “Why did you need to pick me up at such a short notice, right outside of Scotland Yard may I add,” She huffed, “What if I were in a meeting?” What if she was in a meeting and his situation was truly dire. What if he needed her help and she couldn’t be there?
“We’re going to Wiltshire,” Malfoy answered none of her questions, he didn’t even bother to look her in the eyes, his grey eyes never moving from the road ahead of him.
“That’s not an answer, Malfoy.” Hermione was getting angry now. “What if Shacklebolt calls? What do I say to him?” She held up her phone to emphasise her point.
Malfoy, however, had other ideas. He swiftly grabbed her phone and threw it out of the window.
“What the fuck was that Malfoy?” Her anger levels are now truly boiling over.
“Do you have any other phones on you?” He asked directly, once again dodging her question.
“I’m asking what the fuck is going on, I want answers!” Hermione demanded.
“Do you have any other phones on you?” He once again asked.
“No, I left my burner in my office.” Hermione finally answered.
“Good,” A bit of tension seemed to fall from Malfoy’s shoulders, however, there were still no answers for her, and the busy streets of London had already made way for the countryside zooming past her on the motorway.
“What’s going on Malfoy?” She asked quietly now, dangerously aware of the fact that she was in a car with a known criminal without any means to contact the authorities.
“They followed me to the shack in Camden,” Malfoy simply stated, still not bothering to look her in the eye.
“Fuck!” Hermione exclaimed. If they had seen her, if they pieced it together the whole case would crumble like a house of cards.
“So, what is this? Why did you pick me up right outside the bloody office? Why can’t I keep my phone?” The questions flowed out her mouth like a waterfall of words when she recovered from the initial shock of Malfoy’s revelation.
“You are my girlfriend and we’re going home to introduce you to my parents,”
“Are you bloody mad, what has gotten into you? Your parents? You mean the untouchable Lucius Malfoy? I’m dead, we’re dead, why don’t you just park us against a tree and be done with it?”
“Calm down, Hermione,” Malfoy said, it was the first time he had used her given name, and even in the stressed state she was in the way her name sounded coming from his mouth calmed her down. “I know he’s this big bad man in the files at Scotland Yard, however, back home with my mum he tries to be just her husband and my father.”
“Still Draco, I’m a bloody copper,” Hermione exclaimed.
“Ah good practise, we should probably call each other by our first names during dinner.” He smirked.
“What’s my background story? How did we meet? How long do we have to figure this all out?” Hermione’s mind went a million miles an hour.
“We met in ‘Base’ the club that I own,” Draco simply stated.
“But I’ve never been,” Hermione sputtered.
“Neither have my parents,” Draco answered as if it was nothing.
“What’s my occupation?” Hermione wanted to get her story straight, she wanted to be able to go over it a couple of times before they arrived in Wiltshire.
“You work in a bookshop; you’re always reading when I’m late at the shack. That could work.” Draco was thinking out loud trying to find the right answers.
“And what if he checks.” Hermione asked.
“Right, okay, I use this little shop in Brixton as a front. It’s fine Hermione, don’t you know already that I’ve got an answer for everything?” He looked at her and gave her one of his signature smirks before he pressed a couple of buttons on his dashboard and a dial tone went over the speakers.
“What do you want, Malfoy?” A male voice answered from the other end of the line.
“I need a favour, Zabini,” Draco started, “Could you head over to Clearwater’s in Brixton and put a name on the employee list dating back to let’s say, 19 months ago?”
“Oddly specific,” Zabini seemed rightfully suspicious by the request. “Which name am I putting down?”
Draco looked over at Hermione, a questioning look on his face. “Hermione Jean Granger,” she answered.
“Oh, the lady’s here,” Zabini said.
“Just do it, Zabini, and quickly.”
“Yes, boss.” Zabini said before cutting off the phone call.
“Your own name?” Draco asked. “What if there’s a mole?”
“Who said I gave you my actual name when we first met,”
That left Draco speechless, the mobster probably not thinking people could out play him.
“It’s fine, trust me, they won’t find me under that name at Scotland Yard, I’m not daft.”
Not long after Draco took the exit of the M4 and Hermione’s anxiety grew again. This dinner wasn’t nothing; she was meeting the equivalent of royalty within organised crime.
“Breathe and remember a bit of stress and anxiety isn’t weird.” Draco said as they turned onto a long driveway flanked by 10 feet tall hedges. “I’ve heard it’s quite normal to feel some stress if you meet your in-laws for the first time.” He grinned at her.
“Oh, you’ve got experience?” Hermione snapped, her anxiety now heavily affecting her mood.
“I’ve met some parents,” Draco said, “However, I’ve never brought a girl home, Mum is thrilled.”
“Great,” Hermione said sarcastically.
They had finally arrived at the estate in the Wiltshire countryside. The gothic architecture gave the whole building an ominous feel.
Hermione had been so taken with the building that she had totally missed Draco getting out of the car before he opened the passenger door and held out his hand for her to grasp. She gladly took his hand and tried to exit the car gracefully.
As soon as she stood Draco’s arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her close to his side, his face muzzled into her brown curls. To the outside it seemed like a sweet moment between two lovers. Hermione, however, knew better.
“Game on, Granger,”. He spoke soft enough so only she could hear.
When Hermione turned her face to the large wooden doors that clearly were the entrance to the estate, she saw a blonde woman standing on the threshold smiling broadly.
“Draco, darling,” The woman smiled, “What a pleasant surprise,”
Draco guided them over the gravel path towards the doorway. “Mum, this is my girlfriend, Hermione,”
His girlfriend, Hermione. It sounded weird coming from him. However, absurdly enough it didn’t give her the creeps, which usually happened when men moved too quickly. Probably because it was only for show.
“Hermione, this is my mother, Narcissa,” Draco continued the introductions.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Malfoy,” Hermione played the part, feeling strangely anchored by Draco’s palm pressing softly onto her lower back.
“Please call my Narcissa, dear,” Narcissa said to her before turning to look at her son, “your father is still in his office working but he’ll join us for dinner in an hour, can I entertain you with a cup of tea in the drawing room in the meantime?”
“Mum, it’s just me you don’t have to be this perfect hostess,” Draco said to his mother, obviously not wanting this facade of a person but his own mother. “But tea would be lovely, don’t you agree, love?”
Hermione forgot that he was talking to her until he looked her square in the eyes.
“Uhm, yeah tea sounds lovely, Mrs-” the look on the other woman’s face made Hermione realise her mistake early, “sorry, Narcissa.”
“Don’t worry, dear.” Narcissa said before turning around and leading them through the high hallways. Portraits of blond men seemed to look at her every step she took.
“You’ve met at his club?” Narcissa asked her incredulously as they sat down for tea. Hermione was still in the relative safety of Draco’s arm around her shoulder.
“Trust me, I didn’t plan to fall for a nightclub owner, it’s not really my type.” Hermione laughed, making sure to place her hand on Draco’s thigh. “But when we started talking, we just clicked.”
“I’ve always told him to do something other than own a nightclub with that big brain of his.” Narcissa said.
Did she really did not know what kind of work her son was really doing, or was this all some big play?
The door to the drawing room opened and a staff member stood in the doorway. “Mrs Malfoy, dinner will be served in fifteen minutes,”
“Thank you, Miss Caldwell,” Narcissa said, waiting for the staff member to leave the room, “If you want you could take some time freshen up before dinner,”
“I think we would like that, Mum,” Draco said, helping her up from the sofa, and swiftly moving out of the room and ushering her through a maze off halls to finally arrive at a set of double doors. Unlocking them before leading her in and collapsing on the burgundy sofa.
“You good?” Hermione asked, awkwardly setting herself on the wingback chair facing him.
“It’s just been a long day,” He said, sighing deeply, looking at her with tired eyes.
“I figured,”
“Why are you so unaffected?” He asked when he finally got himself into a more Malfoy like position on the sofa.
“It’s my job, being undercover, only showing them a mask.” They were in this together now, it couldn’t hurt to trust him just a little bit. “Is there something I should know before dinner with your father?”
“Uhm, let’s just try to not talk about politics and we’ll be good. I’ll try and take all the tough questions so you can just talk about fashion or whatever with my mum.” Draco said already in game planning mode.
“You do know women talk about more than just fashion?” Hermione asked, slightly abashed.
“Oh, I know but my mum loves it, and my father wouldn’t dare to interrupt a conversation she’s having.” Draco explained, before looking up at the clock. “I think we should get into character again.”
When they arrived at the dining room what Hermione presumed to be Lucius Malfoy was sitting at the head of the table. Lucius Malfoy was only known by name by the people at Scotland Yard, the last known picture Hermione had seen of him was at his graduation. He sat at the end of the oakwood table like he owned the place, already looking bemused by her and Draco probably because they were slightly late.
“Son, if I knew it would only take a woman entering your life for you to return back home, I would have encouraged it more,” Lucius’ sarcastic drawl welcomed them.
“Shh Lucius, just be glad he’s here,” Narcissa hissed to her husband.
Apart from the normal introductory questions Draco’s theory was correct; Hermione emerged herself in conversations about Narcissa’s interests and didn’t speak a word to Lucius Malfoy until she finished her desert.
“We’ve had a long day,” Draco started, “I hope you don’t mind if we retire to my chambers early?”
Narcissa beamed over at them, so excited at the love she presumed was blossoming in front of her eyes. “Of course, dear, you should totally have some quality time together instead of spending it with us.”
Next to her Draco seemed to exhale in pure relief, getting out of this room would mean the acting would be over. At least for tonight.
That’s how they got here with him on the burgundy sofa and her on the wingback chair, again.
“So, what now?” Hermione asked unsure.
“I’m exhausted, I felt like I needed to guide my father away from questions I couldn’t answer the whole time. I think I’ll take a shower and head straight to bed.” Draco stood from the burgundy sofa and made his way to a hidden door in the suite. However, before he reached the door, he seemed to change his mind and turned around to face her. “I should of course be the gentleman and show you around first, would you like a shower too?”
“I could use a shower, and a set of PJs.” Hermione said.
Draco’s ‘chambers’ where bigger than her entire flat. However, there was still only one bed. Something Draco also seemed to realize when he set eyes upon it.
“Uhm this is my bed, but I guess I could just make myself comfortable on the sofa. I’m so knackered I could probably sleep on the floor,” Draco laughed awkwardly.
Draco’s bed was massive, easily as wide as it was long. There was more than enough space for the two of them to sleep and never touch each other during the night. And what would it look like to the staff or his parents if they would get into his chambers and they wouldn’t share a bed?
“Draco, your bed is huge, it’s fine we can share. I’ll probably already be out cold when you come out of the shower.” She laughed.
And it was true after a blissful shower in Draco’s ensuite she climbed beneath his green silk sheets. She wanted to wait up for him, to at least bit him goodnight. However, she was exhausted from the day she’d had and swiftly drifted off to sleep, the sound of the shower running in the background lulling her to sleep.
Masked men attacked her in a dark alley way, dragging her across the ground towards a black SUV waiting on the street.
She tried to fight back, but they were with too many, surrounding her blacking out her vision.
Hermione woke from her nightmare, heartrate through the roof. When she didn’t recognize her surroundings her heartrate only spiked, was she really abducted?
That was when she registered the strong arm safely pulling her against a broad chest.
“Shhh, breathe, Hermione, you’re safe, it’s okay.” The male voice spoke close to her ear. “It was only a nightmare you are safe.”
That was when it clicked.
Draco Malfoy was hugging her close to his chest, consoling her after a nightmare, telling her she was safe.
And for the first time since this all started, she felt safe.