The Right Thing To Do

Chapter 22

Hermione had never been more scared to open the paper in the days following the pub night with Marcus Flint. It wasn't until Monday that she finally stopped looking for pictures of Draco pushing her up against a wall.

She thought of Lucius Malfoy, and Draco's inheritance, and prayed.

Harry helped her file a report with the D.M.L.E. about the incident. Or, more accurately, Harry forced her to file a report with the D.M.L.E. about the incident. He said if she didn't file the report, he would go after Flint himself.

She filed it anonymously, much to Harry's dismay. Harry told her that anonymous reports were harder to substantiate, and harder to investigate.

"I don't really care one way or the other about Flint, Harry," she said on Monday morning. He'd come to their flat to bring her the paperwork. "I just want this potion brought to the Auror's attention. I don't want this happening to anyone else."

"I care about Flint." He glared at her and she looked away. "I want to be the one to retrieve him and throw him in Azkaban."

"I have no proof that it was him. I have Draco's word. If he is brought into this and we are questioned and if it reaches Skeeter's ears...." She shook her head. "I can't... I can't do this anymore. I can't fear the day Lucius Malfoy hears about this."

"This shouldn't be about Lucius Malfoy! This should be about justice!" Harry threw his arms out to the sides, wide and questioning her.

She turned away from him, frowning out the window. It was raining. "Everything is about Lucius Malfoy, Harry."

~*~

By Tuesday she could hardly make out the bruises on Draco's neck and wrist.

By Thursday she'd forgotten the taste of him.

And on the following Monday, the whisper of "Granger" across her ear had finally evaporated into the wind.

~*~

On Tuesday evening, she found herself at the Burrow. Bill and Fleur were visiting before they headed out of town for the entire month of December, and Molly was in quite a state, complaining because they had to schedule a weeknight instead of the entire weekend. Hermione was exhausted after work, and wished she could excuse herself from the evening, but Ginny threatened her, practically at wandpoint.

"Oh, no you don't, Granger." She tossed a sweater across her bed, looking for the perfect outfit. "I need you there so my mother will harp on you about Ron. That way she won't harp on me about when Harry and I are getting married."

Ginny abruptly began changing her clothes, and Hermione looked away, twitching at the idea of Ginny and Harry getting married. Weren't they all still thirteen years old, sitting at the Gryffindor table, watching Seamus burn his eyebrows off?

Hermione wasn't inside the Burrow for five minutes before Molly asked her about Ron. Apparently he would be home for Christmas Eve, but they had a game on Christmas Day.

"He's told you this, of course?" Molly said, licking a spoon in the kitchen.

"Er, no. We've both been terribly busy."

"Well, of course, you're invited over that evening. That way you two can see each other!"

Hermione watched as Molly wiped her hands on her dress and used her wand to season the stew. She hadn't heard anything from Ron about the two of them, then.

It was a quiet evening after that. Fleur sat between her and Ginny in the living room, which Ginny found rather irritating. Ginny found an excuse to get up, leaving Hermione alone with Fleur.