Touchstone || Dramione

Chapter XII: Coquetry

"This isn't up for discussion." Hermione repeats. "I'm sorry Andromeda. With all due respect—"

"Yes." Andromeda cuts her off. "Respect. Something you will do with my decision."

Sera steps forward. "But—"

"Respect the woman's choice." Nott sighs. "Besides, it helps us."

"I don't like this idea." Hermione affirms bluntly, her stance rigid despite Andromeda's glare. "What if something happens? You need that money. You're already involved enough as it is."

The mere idea that Andromeda would offer the muggle cash she's been stashing in case of an emergency infuriates Hermione, regardless of whether or not she'd do the exact same thing. Hermione would, but that's not the point. The point: Andromeda is being foolish. Pure and simple.

That and Hermione hasn't been able to focus clearly since the kiss with Malfoy. Sensory memory pervades her mind and she bitterly shoves it away. The main reason Hermione is arguing with Andromeda is the woman's foolishness, not her own anger. And even if it is, Hermione's anger isn't due to Malfoy's casual, icy behavior after their... whatever that was. He's free to act however he wants. The slimy git.

Andromeda looks down her nose at Hermione. "We've already had this discussion and you aren't the only stubborn woman in this house, young lady."

"You can't afford to waive aid, Granger. Use that cumbrous brain of yours." Malfoy drawls from the kitchen's threshold, his blond fringe hiding his gaze and his shoulder propped against the archway. She hurls a scowl at him. "You survived half a year living with the Dark Lord and you want to take off without some help. I'm disappointed, Granger."

"That's not what this is about, Malfoy." Hermione seethes. "This is about Andromeda and Teddy. Teddy, Malfoy. He's a child—"

"So were we." Malfoy and Nott echo together unwittingly. Both share a momentary silence, their eyes flickering from each other to opposite walls, before Malfoy's attention pierces into Hermione again. "The faster you accept that safety is a hole to bury your head in, the faster you can accept the truth."

It takes Hermione several seconds to realize she's trying to burn her own hole right through his pretentious head. She clears her throat. "This isn't some ideological argument on hope versus realism, Malf—"

"Then why are you making it into one?" He fires back, the smirk on his face boiling her blood. "What happened to razing the boat to ashes?"

Her jaw drops. He didn't... Bastard! Bastard, bastard, bastard! Red crawls up her cheeks to her hairline and she feels like a frog on a dissection table as curiosity greets her from every corner of the room, except the archway. Foul, slithering...! "I'm not—"

"Look," Sera interjects, much to Hermione's relief, "Malfoy is right and so are you, Hermione, but being right doesn't change our situation. Teddy is in as much danger here as he would be in Britain. The Order is barely holding on and the allied-forces here are loyal only to their survival. We need to put aside our emotional ties and act strategically."

"I heard word from my liaison when I retrieved the vials of Dreamless Sleep this morning... " Andromeda speaks up, her voice absurdly small compared to the intensity of her expression. "Minvera McGonagall is dead."

One could drop a pen in the room and it would be the sound of a nuclear explosion. Dead? Impossible. Hermione shakes her head unbelievingly, eyes wide and fists clenching. The Head of Gryffindor house, a woman she once looked up to, admired, cherished. In her haze, Hermione does not notice as Malfoy comes to stand beside her, his earlier sarcasm forgotten and his shoulders as stiff as the unyielding line of his frown.