Vengeance: A Dramione Story

Chapter Eleven

Draco's POV

I got up and looked around to see if Hermione was up. I didn't see her, so I took a peek into her room and didn't see her there, either.

Her bed was a mess, and the covers were on the floor.

My mind jumped to the worst possible conclusion.

Hermione's been taken.

I got dressed quickly, putting on jeans, mismatched socks, some old shirt and a hoodie. I was rather busy worrying for Hermione's safety, too busy to stop and think about clothing. I grabbed my pendant for good luck, and left the apartment in a hurry.

"Where's Hermione?" I asked Harry, bursting through his office door. My fingers were clutching my emerald pendant, my thumb rubbing it in circles.

"I'm right here, Malfoy," Hermione said, from the seat to his left. "I got up early and came here to work. Figured if I couldn't sleep, the next best thing is to help find Ginny."

"Leave a note for me or something next time," I instructed her, feeling my face flush. I slipped my pendant into my pocket, hoping she wouldn't notice.

"Aww, were you worried about me?" Hermione cooed. "Is the Draco Malfoy blushing?"

"N-no. I just wanted to know where you were. You could've at least left one of those yellow Muggle sticky things-"

"You mean a Post-it note?" Hermione interjected, looking amused.

"I'm a Malfoy. Muggle things were not allowed in the Manor," I left the room, feeling my face warm and joined Quinn, who was working on compiling the information we had found into an easy format to understand.

"How's it going, Quinn?"

She looked up at me as if I was stupid. "I'm working with nothing, trying to make something. It's going fan-freaking-tabulously."

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," I muttered, and Quinn closed her eyes for a second then opened them.

She sighed. "Sorry, Malfoy, I'm just stressed. My boss' boss' girlfriend is who-knows-where and we have just about nothing and I'm expected, as the lowly intern that I am, to do all of the magic here--uh, no pun intended--I just... argh!"

I put my hand on her shoulder. "Give me a summary."

"Well, nothing big has gone on. Everyone in Azkaban is staying there; no Death Eaters left over after you take out the ones that are in Azkaban or dead. And yet, someone with the knowledge of how to cast the Dark Mark took Miss Weasley," she summarized.

"The Dark Lord only taught the closest to him, and those few taught the ones he approved after that. I'd guess that the first one to learn was Aunt Bella, and-"

"Bellatrix was your aunt?" Quinn asked, surprised.

"Was. But yes, most Purebloods, if not all, are related in some way-"

"Wait, so you're all inbred?" Quinn interrupted. "That makes me feel quite a lot better about being Muggle-born."

"Yes, I guess you could look at it that way," I frowned, then continued what I was saying. "Bellatrix would've been the one to teach everyone else, I'd bet."

"That helps a ton," Quinn rolled her eyes, and I couldn't help but grin.

"You remind me of me when I was younger..." I reminisced. I figured that she was without a doubt much nicer than I had ever been, but the sarcasm. Definitely me.

"That a good thing?" Quinn asked, looking up at me.

"In this case, yes," I smiled encouragingly. "Keep working." The sooner Weasley #7 is found, the sooner I don't have to be here.