Unbidden Love Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen: Deadly Masquerade

“Anything interesting in the post?”

Harry flicked through the stack of envelopes, tossing unwanted letters into a disorganized pile on the kitchen table. “All rubbish. Oh, except for this cute, perfume-y pink one from a girl in Wales…”

The flush drained from Ron’s cheeks and Hermione’s head snapped up from Advanced Rune Translation (her fifth time reading it cover-to-cover). She turned to stare suspiciously at Ron. “Are you still seeing this girl?”

Ron held her powerful gaze. “So what if I am? You don’t seem to be against seeing other people in your spare time.”

Hermione blushed and lowered her head, knowing she deserved that one. Ron softened and reached across the table to take her hand. “I’m sorry; I told myself I wouldn’t make cracks like that.”

“But I deserve them,” Hermione murmured.

“Enough, Hermione!” Harry interjected, pushing the pink envelope toward Ron. “I don’t want to hear another word of negativity from you, okay? What happened happened, and there’s nothing either of you can do to take it back. It’s obvious your relationship is over, so no one should be throwing around blame and hateful words about who’s seeing who. Understood?”

Ron glowered and studied his pink letter half a second before tossing it in the rubbish bin.

Hermione stared. “What was that about?”

Ron shrugged unconcernedly. “I remember telling you before that the girl means nothing to me, though she may think otherwise. I’m not going to seduce her now that I’m no longer seeing you.”

Hermione studied him with growing respect. She knew of a dozen guys who’d do just that, and Ron honestly had every right to see that girl now. But he was refusing an open invitation, nonetheless.

Ron eagerly tried to kill the awkward silence. He leaned toward Harry and glanced at the envelope Harry was intensely studying. “So…any love letters for you, Mr. Potter? Oh yeah, you’re married…that would be bloody wrong, wouldn’t it?”

Harry didn’t reply but continued to stare, transfixed, at the envelope.

Hermione stood and leaned over Harry’s shoulder. The crooked, messy handwriting on the front was hard to decipher, but the letter appeared to be addressed to Harry. There was no return address.

“It’s from Malfoy,” Harry muttered after a moment.

Ron laughed, slapping his hand down on the table. “Good one, mate! Malfoy sending you love letters…now that was a twist I hadn’t expected!”

Harry glared at him which destroyed the smile on his face.

Hermione’s heart beats became irregular. “How do you know it’s from him?”

“I’ve seen his handwriting more than one,” Harry responded. He tore open the envelope in one quick motion. “It’s uniquely his.”

Ron made to snatch the letter away, but Harry swerved out of his chair in time. Harry ignored Ron’s angry protests as he paced by the fire, studying a one-page letter. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and waited as patiently as she could. But a thousand circumstances raced through her mind – Draco was injured and writing for help in desperation, or maybe he was being held captive by his enraged parents who had discovered the truth about him and her.

Finally, she couldn’t take the suspense. “Harry, what is it? And why was he writing to you?” It stung a bit to know that whatever Draco had to say, he didn’t trust her enough to address the letter to her.

Harry looked up and Hermione’s heart jumped at the fear on his face. Harry’s hands shook and rattled the paper as he threw the letter into the fireplace. In a few seconds, everything Draco had written was but a memory.

“What’d you do that for?” Ron protested.

“It’s too dangerous to be lying around,” Harry said distractedly as he reached for his wand on the kitchen table. “The both of you, grab your cloaks and wands and meet me at the door. We probably have a good ten minutes before they find us here.”

Hermione didn’t let his words fully sink in as she darted over to the coat rack and grabbed her black Hogwarts cloak. Ron was more suspicious.

“Care to explain anything before we leave to our mysterious destination? You accepted whatever that git wrote in ten seconds flat. I don’t remember Malfoy being that persuasive before.”

“If you wish to die, then by all means stay here!” Harry snapped angrily as he fastened his cloak. “Otherwise, shut it until we get to the Ministry!”

Hermione waited by the door, trying to keep her fear under control as her breathing became erratic. She knew without much analysis that if Draco had decided to write to Harry (which was not an every day occurrence), the facts he presented in writing had to be serious enough to threaten their lives. No matter how much anger remained in her from Draco’s words in the forest, she trusted him entirely to take care of her. And apparently he cared enough to take care of Harry and Ron as well.

“What about Mum and Dad?” Ron asked after dragging himself beside his friends. “They’re supposed to come home within the hour.”

Harry withdrew his wand and muttered a few words. A bright, ghostly stag flowed out of his wand and galloped in midair before vanishing in a white mist. “There,” he said, thrusting his wand back inside his cloak. “That’ll let the whole family know not to return until further information comes.”

Without another word, they joined hands and Disapparated.

A few metres away, a young man with grey eyes watched them disappear on the doorstep. He clutched an unidentifiable wad in one hand and rose to turn to the shadows behind him.

“Did you bring enough?” he whispered to one.

“More than enough,” the man grunted. He stepped forward and the moon’s light illuminated his scraggly hair and withered face. His partner beside him also seemed to have suffered under time’s spell, and their appearance only grew more disfigured in light of their leader’s silky hair and perfectly formed face.

“Good.” The leader nodded. “We need to be quick – I’m not sure when the exact time of arrival will be.” He swiftly separated his wad into three parts and handed one to each man, keeping the last for himself.

The second man, his hair considerably longer and greasier than the first’s, studied his wad in the moonlight and grimaced. “Don’t tell me I got…”

“Would you rather return to the company of the rats?” the leader hissed. “Because I’ll have no trouble finding a substitute for you.”

The man glowered but relented, dropping his wad into a beacon of liquid. “The things I do for a little freedom,” he muttered to himself.

“Cheers.” The leader held his beacon up to the others’. The three men downed their individual liquids in unison, their faces contorted in disgust.

*

“Now will you properly explain yourself?”

Harry ignored Ron’s question as he finished speaking with the Head of the Auror Office, Gawain Robards (who had stayed in office even after Scrimgeour’s murder). Hermione listened carefully but couldn’t pick up what they were saying. Ron, realizing his every word was being ignored, settled into a purple armchair by the fire.

The little meeting room they were confined to in the Ministry of Magic was dark and musty, telling the trio it hadn’t been occupied for quite some time. Its windowless walls created a mysterious, slightly depressing atmosphere, and the small, single chandelier did little to penetrate the gloom. Countless specks of dust glowed in the soft light of the bulbs, and Hermione coughed.

The sharp voice of Robards awoke Hermione from her intense concentration. “Would you care for anything while you wait?” He spoke as if they were being detained in the train station whilst on their holiday.

Ron opened his mouth abruptly but Hermione cut him off. “Some coffee would be nice; thank you.” Ron sank back against the plush patting of his chair and remained silent.

Harry walked toward them, scratching the back of his head irritatingly. He paced the floor with agitated steps. “Bloody hell, I feel so helpless.”

“Well, I feel quite content in my forced state of ignorance!” Ron hissed. “But if you would like to change that, by all means, enlighten me!”

It showed Hermione the seriousness of the situation when Harry didn’t respond to Ron’s jabs. Ron caught this, too, and raised his eyebrows. “Harry?”

Harry looked up as if suddenly noticing he wasn’t alone. “Err…sorry. There’s too much in my head right now.”

“How serious is this, Harry?” Hermione spoke quietly.

Harry leaned against a wooden chair and lowered his head. “It’s better now that Malfoy forewarned us and we’re all here now…”

“Where’s Mum and Dad, then?” Ron piped up. “And Ginny? George?”

“Calm down, mate; they’re all being kept in another room in the Ministry,” Harry told him. “They wanted to separate us so we’re not easy to find if the Neo-Death Eaters decide to infiltrate the Ministry.”

Hermione tried to take deep, steady breaths. “What led to this surprise attack? I mean, do you think they found out about…me and Draco?”

Harry shook his head. “I dunno, Hermione, but something made them act quickly and head for the Burrow. Malfoy’s letter was short and frustratingly simple. All he said was that he knew of their plans to attack all three of us, and their intentions are worse than capture. He told us to seek refuge at the Ministry until he gave us word again.”

Hermione shivered. “Did it sound to you like he has some sort of plan? Did his words sound confident or too rushed?”

“Both, I guess,” Harry replied sourly. “But now that you mention it, he did say something about ‘redirecting their efforts’. But this proves that he truly cares about you, Hermione – a couple years ago, Malfoy would never think of sending a letter to me to save our skins. He even made it sound like he cared what happened to me and Ron, too.”

Ron snorted in disbelief but the other two ignored him.

“So we’re stuck here until he tells us it’s safe to go back?” Hermione frowned. “That sounds too simple, Harry. It’s not like the Neo-Death Eaters are going to throw up their hands and give up after finding the Burrow empty.”

“I agree, Hermione, but what else can we do?” Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. “If Malfoy is to be trusted, he’s our only accurate source of information. I spoke to Robards about the Neo-Death Eaters’ plans, and he said he’d send a few Aurors to the Burrow so they can watch what our enemies do. If there’s too many of them, the Aurors will gather reinforcements and attack. But Robards doesn’t want a full-on battle to break out if they can avoid it.”

“Why not?” Ron asked. “The sooner we send those bastards to where they belong, the better.”

“They want to keep at least some alive so they can question them,” Harry replied. “I’d, too, prefer if the Ministry just took care of them the quick way, but they want to know how many supporters exist and what their other intentions are for the wizarding world.”

“Hermione, did you cut your hair yourself recently?”

Hermione and Harry stared at Ron as if the brains from the Department of Mysteries had attacked him again. “What the hell?” Harry cried with outright frustration.

Ron stood and grabbed a few uneven locks of Hermione’s hair. “You did a crappy job of it, if you did,” he told her.

Hermione grabbed her hair from him and studied it herself. She frowned when she noticed the few inch difference between one clump of hair and the rest. “How did that happen?” she murmured to herself.

“You’ve been seeing the same hair dresser, too!” Ron pointed to Harry, which directed all eyes onto the visible section of black hair missing from Harry’s scalp.

“It’s not only us, mate…” Harry said after a moment.

Ron magicked a mirror into his hand and gasped after studying his jagged hair line. “Why, that’s just insulting!” he yelled at the mirror. “It’s so bloody obvious! Who let me walk out in public this morning?”

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances and their eyes widened in unison.

“Malfoy!” they cried together.

“Bloody Polyjuice Potion!” Ron hissed, throwing his mirror onto the armchair. “But why did he need all three chunks of our hair? No one can turn into three people at once!”

“Don’t you get it?” Hermione asked with exasperation. “He found accomplices and now all three of us will show up at the Burrow when the Death Eaters arrive!”

“And depending on how great their battle skills are…” Harry continued. “It’s not unlikely that one of them will be killed!”

“We’ve got to stop him!”

“No!”

Harry grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and stopped her halfway to the door. “Hermione, Malfoy obviously has a plan. If we show up, the Death Eaters will see two of us and realize they’ve been fooled. The only way to save all three of us – the real us – is to wait here until we somehow learn what is happening there. It’s likely the Aurors will protect us – err, them – and a battle won’t even begin. I’ll let Robards know what we’ve discovered and hopefully he’ll be able to stop our impersonators from being killed.”

“Don’t bother,” Ron murmured. He spoke in the hopes of it being indiscernible, but Hermione heard and turned on him.

“Don’t you dare be unsympathetic now when Draco is risking his very life to save your arse!”

“I didn’t mean it like that…” Ron stammered.

“What else could you have…”

“ENOUGH!” Harry bellowed. His wand shot sparks at them as he threw his fist against the wall. “It doesn’t matter who is impersonating us, Ron! What matters is that we are being impersonated for our own safety and we should do whatever we can to make sure their lives are a priority. I will get someone to separate the two of you if I must!”

Ron and Hermione turned their backs on the other in reluctant resignation.

“I’m going to speak to Robards,” Harry told them, his voice shaking with anger. “If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to send more Aurors to the Burrow before Malfoy gets himself killed for our sake.”