PROMISES Chapter 9
Chapter 9 : On the Eve of the Travel
"I met Pansy," Blaise Zabini announced. "She's got a new block," he added, but his friend stayed mute, drinking his mead. "Are you going to tell me what's been occupying your mind these last few weeks?"
Draco knew he could lie… even to Blaise. Blaise Zabini wasn't a man he would call a close friend, but he was good company. He was entertaining, complex in an interesting way, and he was nuts-completely nuts to such an extent that you couldn't hold a grudge against him for long.
"I'm going to Palestine."
The sweltering heat which had engulfed the United Kingdom had collided with the cold winds of the Nordic seas to give birth to a terrible storm. Hermione used to like rain. She passed through the entrance of the manor overlooking the garden, and sat just on the front steps, under the pouring rain. The dark-grey color of the clouds was attracting her like a magnet. The wind was blowing so powerfully that it sounded like a million animals crying. Hermione lifted her hand a little, so her palm was facing the grey sky, but she couldn't feel the strong and fresh water on her skin. A wave of bitter sadness invaded her heart. She fixed the palm of her hand as she wished that it was wet from the rain and not her tears.
Thunder roared suddenly, making her wince. She lifted her head, worried, and caught sight of a grey silhouette in the distance. Simply dressed with black trousers and a grey shirt, his skin and hair too pale for such grey weather, Draco Malfoy slowly approached the manor, carrying rolls of waterproof tarpaulin on his left shoulder and holding his wand in his right hand. Hermione got the impression that she was watching a black and white movie. He paused for a moment when he noticed her, his eyes expressionless. His shirt clung to his skin-the sleeves of which were rolled up to his elbows. His hair was flying in the wind and his boots were weighed down by the water, giving him a conqueror-like gait. Hermione blinked, wondering when she began to find him so impressing.
When he reached the steps on which Hermione sat, he set down the rolls, took off his boots, and sat down next to her silently. A tiny wave of panic turned her stomach upside down as she felt the coldness from his wet body beside her. 'Slow down, breathe...,'she commanded herself silently. It took Hermione several minutes to calm her heart, and focus on to the landscape. Shoulder to shoulder, never speaking, they stayed this way for hours until night came.
The party was at in full swing as the rain poured down outside. It was being held in honor of the Five Hundredth Annual Magical Invention Contest; the United Kingdom was the proud winner with a creation by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes-magical feet. It was a pair of shoes that always found their way, and made the wearer the best dancer of a party.
Draco loathed this kind of big rally because half of his old Hogwarts classmates were always present; however, he attended every one-for he disliked their stares as much as he wanted them to remember Draco Malfoy.
People paraded to congratulate Ron Weasley and his brother. Draco couldn't help observing him with hatred. Draco was about to leave when he caught a glimpse of Luna Lovegood placing a tender kiss on the cheek of the deep-red weasel.
"Psst, Malfoy!"
He turned around and found himself face to face with Granger. He didn't know that she would be here, and instantly took a quick look in Ron and Luna's direction, wondering if she'd seen the kiss, but they were nowhere to be seen. He stared back at Hermione, hiding his apprehension.
"Why are you sticking with me everywhere I go? I was just about to leave."
"I just wanted to inform you that your friend Zabini is fighting with a man who seems to be Padma's boyfriend. Neville is coming but I doubt that he'll be on Zabini's side."
Draco groaned in annoyance and asked where the fight was taking place.
"It's in the bathroom corridor."
He sidled hastily through the crowd to join the corridor and arrived at the same time as Padma Patil and a man who he recognized as Neville Longbottom-twenty pounds smaller and six years older than the last time Draco had seen him.
They found Blaise sitting against the wall, his face full of tentacles. His adversary was lying on the floor, completely stupefied.
"Oh my God!" Padma cried, rushing to the paralyzed man.
"He's just stupefied," Draco pointed out in an exasperated tone as he helped his friend to stand up. "What happened?"
"Hmph, chich pachtaw fchemph mawife..."
Draco cast a Finite Incantatum spell on his face, while Neville revived the other man.
"We better leave," Draco said once Blaise was back to his normal appearance.
Padma held her companion up by the waist and lead him into the bathroom without any regard for the others. Blaise stumbled awkwardly, still visibly groggy though his eyes were fierce. Nevertheless, he silently followed Draco toward the platform of apparition. Hermione, who remained alone in the corridor, heard shouts and cries behind the bathroom door and decided to see what was happening.
When she passed through the wall she found Padma crouching and weeping in her short silver dress. The man was standing still in the middle of the room, cold and impassible.
"... I just can't forget him Thomas, I'm sorry, please," Padma murmured between hot sobs, but the man-Thomas-just shot her a disappointed look before storming out.
"So you're going to Palestine and you don't want to tell me why?" Blaise asked as he settled in Draco's Napoleonic couch. His black skin still retained some marks from the hexes Padma's boyfriend had sent his way.
"Yes," replied Draco. He served them each a drink.
"How long will your journey last?"
"I don't know, but I won't come back until I find what I'm looking for."
"Listen, I know it's not about Pansy. And even though I can't put a name on the girl who's occupying your head these days, I know it's complicated. What's unnerving me is that you don't trust me enough to tell me what's happening."
"This is not about a girl. I can't tell you now. Just promise me to watch over my mother."
"Is there any link with Granger disappearance?" Blaise suddenly asked.
Draco's heart skipped a beat, but his face stayed unreadable.
"Granger? You're silly... She must be rotting under a pile of books."
Blaise took a sip of his drink, considering his friend. After a short pause, he spoke again. "This morning, as I was relaxing in my bath, I thought of that day when you were in such a bad mood that you growled her name, Granger, point blank."
"I admire people like you, capable of such lies."
Blaise didn't hide his disconcerted look. He finished his drink in one gulp, then smiled. "I know you better than you think Draco Lucius Malfoy. I just hope I wasn't mistaken that day I decided you'd actually changed."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that Harry Potter interrogated me yesterday on your activities because he suspects you to be linked with Granger's disappearance, and I hope he's wrong."
Hermione and Draco were in the apartment she used to share with Ron and Harry, who happened to be spending the night at the Burrow.
"Bloody hell!" Draco complained. "I thought frigid and boring bookworms were organized, and fussy, and all..."
"First of all, I am organized," lied Hermione. "And second, Ginny and the others have been rummaging through my things for five months... If you don't find it inside the drawer, take a look in that pile instead."
"Are you kidding? It'd take me a week to search under this pile of shit!"
"We need the book," Hermione snapped.
Draco bent to the pile and started to examine each book's title. After several minutes, he finally found AnticMagic by Abib Sadam.
"This is it!" Hermione exclaimed, taking the book from his hands.
Draco stood up, dusted his trousers, and left the office.
Hermione followed him out. He was wandering around the lounge, gazing at the surroundings, tapping his wand on his hand like a whip. The witch knew that his childish smile foreshadowed nothing good.
"What are you doing?" she asked with apprehension. "Let's go, we found the book."
Draco ignored her, and directed himself toward the bathroom. There, he examined the many bottles of potions, and to Hermione's horror, started to interchange their contents.
Then he went into the kitchen.
"Stop it you stupid little jerk! That's not funny. They could poison themselves!"
"No worries, I only changed the Babbling Beverage with the Draught of Peace, and the Pepperup Potion with the Swelling Solution... I thought I would thank them for their little visit last week."
"They'll find your fingerprints tomorrow..." She tried to say to dissuade him.
"And I'll already be out of the country," he retorted. He opened a cupboard, and decided that exchanging the salt with the sugar was a good idea.
Hermione shook her head.
"Do you realize that this is totally immature of you?"
Draco turned his head in her direction and smirked. He continued his inspection, looking for other pranks to pull, when he found a beautiful little box decorated with a little golden knot.
"Don't touch that!" Hermione yelled, recognizing the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes product.
But Draco ignored her warning and opened it, excited to see what was inside this apparently precious box.
Suddenly a loud bang echoed in the room, and Draco's face was surrounded by smoke.
He coughed and waved at the smoke.
"You're so idiotic..." Hermione stated with a sorry look.
He turned his head in her direction and she collapsed into a fit of laughter. He glanced at his hands and his arms but nothing seemed to have changed. He took a knife from a drawer, and tried to get a glimpse of his reflection. The scream he wanted to let out stayed in his throat. He was turquoise-completely turquoise!-from his collarbone to his hairline.
"I'm going to kill them!" He yelled.
"I told you to not touch the box. Now you're blue and you're going to stink like screwts' shit," she said simply.
Draco sent her a terrible look as she continued to giggle with a victorious smirk on her face.
"You knew!"
"Of course! It does red on me... You should have listened to me," she replied, wiping a tiny tear of laughter from the corner of her eye.
She stared at him with that same victorious smirk as he left the room to apparate and lock himself in his manor, raging mad at her. He spent the rest of the night with that image in his head, wondering how she was able to vex him with just a smile. He finally made a decision: he would no longer care about the mudblood, and would concentrate on his task so that she'd execute her own part of the deal and leave him alone.
But he knew he wasn't out of the woods yet.