Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love

Chapter 33: Heroics, Hazards of

Notorious Auror Draco Malfoy was in love with his Principal.

Everything was not under control and everything was not fine.

Draco's harrowing realisation made things untenable on two fronts. He therefore got out of bed the next morning with two objectives, both of which filled him with different kinds of dread.

First, given that this was no longer Quashable, Equilibriumable, or remotely under control, he needed to speak to Tonks and resign formally from the Granger assignment.

Second, having rid himself of the fetters of their professional relationship, he was going to go to Granger, and bare his anguished soul to her.

And, if that went well, he formed a vague tertiary objective involving snogging her to within an inch of her life.

(Also shagging her to within an inch of her life. But first, the snogging. He was a gentleman.)

Draco arrived at the office that morning – well, morning-ish – to find Potter preparing to hold a WTF update. He asked Tonks if he might have a word with her after the meeting. She fixed him with an inquisitive look, nodded, then gestured at him to sit down – Potter was about to begin.

As Potter enumerated a few of the WTF's limited successes that week, Draco rehearsed his speech to Tonks. He would say that he was taking her up on her prior offer to drop the Granger job. He would insist that Granger keep the ring, but remove himself from the assignment in any official capacity. He would suggest that Granger stay at the Manor after he resigned, as it remained the safest place for her.

Tonks would be well within her rights to press him on the wisdom of stepping aside at this rather critical juncture – and if she did, he would play it cool. It was nothing, really. Just a minor issue, hardly worth mentioning. What issue? Oh, only that he was, you know, in love with Hermione Granger. Probably had been for a few months. Currently writhing in superb agonies about it. Did Tonks have a bin in her office? He might be sick.

Potter and Weasley were now presenting mugshots of suspected pack members. Draco's knee jiggled. If they could get on with it, it would be wonderful, so that he might accelerate this hideous confession and crawl away somewhere dark and lonely to die like an animal.

Suddenly, the ring flared to life on his finger. Granger's heart rate hit a new peak – there was a wave of echoed panic – then there was the burn of the distress beacon.

Everyone was staring at Draco, who had leapt to his feet, wand in hand.

"Granger," he gasped.

Now all rose – Tonks, Potter, Weasley, Humphreys, Buckley, Brimble. "What is it? Where is she? What's happened?"

But now, through the ring, Draco felt only emptiness. His attempt to Apparate resulted in nothing – there was no answer from Granger's ring; he didn't know where to go.

He stared at his hand with slow comprehension. "They've got her. They've done something to the ring – disabled it or destroyed it–"

Swearing, Draco cast his tracking charm. A map appeared before him, upon which Granger's hairpins glowed. He ran through the locations as the worried Aurors clustered around him. St. Mungo's, Trinity, the cottage, the Manor–

"There," said Brimble, pointing at a cluster of pin-pricks off of Scotland. "The Outer Hebrides."

Draco raised his wand to Disapparate to the point, but Tonks pulled his arm down.

"Hold the heroics, Malfoy. You're going to Apparate to bloody Scotland? Don't be stupid. Give us one second to strategise before we all leap to our gory deaths."