A/N: Once again, I must thank Emily for the Beta Reading. She has done an awesome job polishing this.
I fixed a minor mistake, thanks to Forest for telling me.
Chapter 8 - Wind of Change
November, 2001
Draco Malfoy was doing what he most enjoyed: drinking a glass of strong liquor, in a nice wizard club, checking out the lovely witches that hanged around the important men that went to those places. It wasn't that he was one of those important men anyway. In fact, he was just an employee at the Owl Post in Madrid. He couldn't complain, though. It was that or going to the war. And he wasn't made for the battle field. No Sir, Draco Malfoy was made for living the good life.
Then, his eyes fell on a woman that had just entered. She seemed out of place there, but then again, it looked as if she was looking for someone. She was vaguely short, thin, and had a head full of long, cinnamon hair. Draco wasn't going to give her a ten, but she was still very beautiful. Her intriguing face was rather familiar. Her big, brown eyes and her soft lips... He was sure he recognized her from somewhere else. Just then, their eyes met. Draco gave her one of the smiles which he used to flirt with the female population; the very same that made most of the witches he met fall at his feet. The girl returned the smile and started walking towards him. She must know him after all... Draco stayed where he was, trying to remember. Was she that Spanish girl he had hooked up with a week ago at Naola Rembaldi's party? Could he be so low and not remember her?
"You're Draco Malfoy, aren't you?" she said, when she finally reached his table.
'British,' Draco thought. He smiled at her. "Don't tell me," he said, waving a hand. He thought for a moment. "We met in that club from downtown two weeks ago."
She laughed. "No. Actually, we met in Paris."
Paris? It had been a long time since he had been there...
"You used to deliver me messages..." she added, amused by his lack of memory.
"Gosh! Hermione! Hermione Grant, is it?"
"Granger," she corrected, now laughing aloud.
"Granger, Granger, Granger," he repeated. "I won't forget it again. God, you've grown. What are you doing in Madrid?"
"That's a really long story," she said.
"I have time," he said, smiling again. "I know a great place to have dinner. Why don't you join me and tell me what have you been doing in this past four years?"
She nodded. "Sounds good to me," she said. "I just have to deliver this package to someone and I'll get back to you."
****
Half an hour later, they were sitting in a nice place which was strictly Spanish food. They ordered 'paella' with a glass of wine for Draco and an orange juice for Hermione.
"So that's what you do? You deliver packages? Last time I checked, there are owls to do that job," Draco commented.
Hermione smiled slightly. Of course, that wasn't her job. She was Lady McGonagall's secretary. Minerva McGonagall had been one of the most important women in England before Slytherin had arrived to the power. She was purely an aristocrat. She had refused to continue living in the same country as Salazar Slytherin (whom she despised deeply), and had moved to Spain long before the blood cleaning and the war had started.
About two months after arriving to Vizcaya and looking for a job, Remus had recommended her to McGonagall, an old friend of his father. So McGonagall had hired her immediately, and of course that had meant that she had to move to Madrid. She had spent the last three years working with the old -while nice- lady, and Hermione was very fond of her. She took care of almost everything for her, including delivering some very important and confidential packages that would be too dangerous to leave to an owl. Hermione was the only person who knew that Minerva McGonagall gave a lot of money to the Resistance's cause.
Satisfied with her explanation, Draco proposed a toast. "For France's liberation," he said. The day before, the Resistance had gotten France back. The Ministry of Magic that worked under Slytherin's orders had been defeated and the territory was free again.
"So, are your parents here with you?" asked Draco, taking a sip of his wine.
"No," she said and sadness covered her face. The truth was that she didn't know anything about her parent's whereabouts. After arriving to Vizcaya, she had done the impossible to communicate with them. She had tried the muggle way, using the mail and the telephone, and the wizard way, sending owls and everything. However, she couldn't reach them. About four months after her arrival to Spain, someone had answered the phone in her old house. The woman who picked it up, told her that the people who lived there had moved and she didn't know anything else.
"But I thought they had taken the train with you," Draco said. That's right, Hermione thought. The last time that Draco had seen her was when he gave her the tickets for that train. She explained to him that they hadn't taken the train because her mother had been ill. "I'm sorry, it seems that I screwed up," he apologized.
"Not at all." She cleared her throat and decided to change the subject. "What about you? What do you for living?"
"You're looking at someone who has achived an excellent carreer in the business of Owl Post," Draco said and she laughed.
"I always thought you had come from a rich family," she said.
Draco let out a sarcastic laugh. "Really? Do I look like a rich kid? My father was a good for nothing. He abandoned my mother even before I was born." Hermione looked at him sadly, but he smiled energetically. "You know, my family history is a really boring subject. Why don't you tell me how you managed to get out of France?"
"Well... Harry Potter had an... escape network." She said warily, twirling the fork in her hand.
"The Harry Potter we know? Are you kidding me?" Draco asked, surprised.
"No. He got me out," Hermione said.
"So Harry worked for the Resistance? I should've guessed..." Draco said shaking his head.
Hermione's face got really serious suddenly. She lowered her voice. "So... I guess that means that you haven't had any news from him either."
"Not a word. I haven't heard anything about Mr. Potter since I left France, but, to be truly honest, we only met at the Hotel, in Paris. We went to different schools in Great Britain. So it's natural that after all that happened we went our separate ways," Draco explained, not noticing Hermione's sad eyes staring at her plate.
"You looked like really close friends," she commented softly.
"That's me, I'm everybody's friend." He winked. The waiter came back with the order and they waited until he left. "So, you haven't heard anything from him either, huh?" Draco asked casually, taking a bite of the paella.
"No. It's been a while since I last heard of him," she answered, playing absent-mindly with her food. He didn't notice the bitter tone in her voice.
"Well, Harry is an important man. He's always very busy and doesn't really have the time for us, the commoners." He laughed at his own bad joke, but she didn't follow. "Well, enough talk about the past," Draco said, cheerfully. "I hope you won't think I'm rude by asking this, but... Are you seeing someone?"
Hermione grabbed a piece of bread. Draco held his breath, until he heard her mutter "No…"
"What a coincidence," he said, flashing one of his million dollar smiles. "Neither am I."
****
Later that night, Hermione was lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't have fallen asleep even if she had tried. The dinner with Draco Malfoy had brought two especially painful subjects back into her memory: her parents and Harry.
Harry... How long had it been since she had had news from him? Almost three years. Three years! She couldn't believe the time had passed so quickly. It seemed like yesterday when she had seen him for the last time.
**Flashback**
June, 1999
It was a warm Saturday morning, and Hermione was in the office she had in Lady McGonagall's house, finishing some letters that her employer had asked her to write. Someone knocked on her door.
"Hermione, dear?" It was Lady McGonagall. She had become very attached to her secretary and treated her like a grandchild most of the time. She had even asked her to move into her house, but Hermione preferred renting a very small apartment where she could have privacy. "Someone's looking for you," the old lady said in a sing-song voice.
"For me?" That was strange. Hermione didn't have any friends in Madrid. Of course, that was only because Hermione spent most of her time working to keep her mind busy to stop thinking about the dangers Harry was facing and what could have become of her parents.
She followed Lady McGonagall to the main hall. Standing there, wearing a black cloak and a tired face was Harry. She forgot immediately about her ladylike appearance around Lady McGonagall and ran to him. She threw her arms to his neck.
"Oh, my God!" she gasped. She hadn't seen him since he had left her in Remus' house in Vizcaya, and it had been six months since then. In that time, Hermione had written to him almost everyday, and Harry replied every once in a while, with short notes. She didn't care, though. It was enough to read that he was faring well.
"I've missed you so much," he muttered into her hair.
"Dear," interrupted Lady McGonagall with a smile. Hermione looked at her, slightly embarrased. "Please go with Mr. Potter. You don't have to work right now. After all, it is Saturday."
She thanked her, and she left the two alone.
"I can't stay in Spain," Harry said. "I have to go back to London tomorrow."
"So soon?"
"Yes... That's why I want us to use well this little time we have. I rented a chalet in the outskirts of Madrid. Let's go."
******
They went there using Floo Podwer. It was a small, wooden chalet, and there wasn't another house around. Harry had rented it that very same morning and Hermione though it was a sweet gesture of him to have gone through the trouble.
She made some spaghetti for lunch, with breadsticks and butter for a side. During lunch, Hermione noticed that Harry was quieter than usual. She talked the whole time, about trivial subjects to lighten the mood. She told him about her job, about those six months in Madrid, how she had learned Spanish using a spell that Remus had taught her... Harry nodded and made a few comments, but nothing more.
Finally, she gave up with her effort to carry a conversation. "I'm sorry, Harry," she apologized.
He lifted his eyes from his plate and looked at her. "For what?"
"For being so noisy and talkative... I understand if you want to rest, and be alone. I can go back to Madrid..."
"Is that what you want?" he asked.
"No, but... well..." she shrugged.
"I'm not being very good company, huh?" he commented, rubbing his eyes.
"The problem isn't me... Is it?" she asked softly. It was a proper question. They hadn't seen each other for long, and maybe the only reason he had asked her to come with him was because he felt he had to do it.
"Hell, no. Don't tell me you took it personally."
"Of course I did, you silly!" she said playfully and left her seat and kneeled beside him.
"The problem is me. I don't even know who I am anymore," he said looking at her. She saw that haunted look again, the very same that he had that night in Hagrid's barn.
"What happened?" she asked, carefully. Harry didn't answer. He sighed and remained silent. "Do you want to talk about it?" she insisted.
He shook his head. "It was enough with the reports I had to write about it..."
Hermione knew him enough to realize it wasn't a good idea to press him. If he wanted to talk, he would.
"Why don't we go for a walk?" she suggested.
"That's a great idea," Harry sighed.
The chalet was surrounded by a beautiful forest. They enjoyed the view walking and holding hands, talking very little. Hermione was suffering inside for not being able to help and comfort Harry the way she would have liked to, but she didn't show it. She had decided to play the cheerful part-for him.
Finally, when the sun was setting into the horizon, they went back to the chalet. Hermione opened the door and entered the living room. Immediately, she felt Harry's hand on her arm and she turned to look at him. He approached her until they were very close. Hermione had never seen him so tall. He caressed her cheek.
"Hermione... All this time I haven't thought about anything but you..." he said so softly, she had trouble hearing him.
She understood he was trying to apologize for what that damned war was doing to him. She embraced him. "I never stop thinking about you, either," she said. "I've been worrying like crazy these six months, thinking that any minute you could..."
He didn't let her go on. He kissed her. She felt the urgency in his kiss, and it was as she could feel the sadness and the fear he was feeling. She was going to comfort him and make him forget... At least for that night.
****
Although it was summer, nights were cold in the countryside. Harry lit the fireplace in the living room with his wand. He and Hermione were sitting on the rug covered only by a warm blanket. His arms were around her, and she had her head leaned against his bare chest.
"You're so beautiful," he muttered, kissing the top of her head.
Hermione blushed. "You have to say that because you're sleeping with me," she teased.
He laughed softly and hugged her tighter. They stared at the dancing flames for a while.
"They're all dead," Harry said suddenly.
"What?" she asked, turning around to look at him. She covered her chest with the blanket, but Harry didn't notice. He was staring at the fire.
"Everyone from the network... The ones who worked with me..."
"Fleur...too?" asked Hermione in a whisper. She remembered the time she had thought Harry and Fleur were together. She had asked him about it in Lyon and Harry had laughed at the thought.
"Fleur, Hagrid, everyone... Except for Remus and me." His voice was strangely flat. Hermione felt a rush of sadness, but she forced herself to be strong for him. She wanted to say something, but the words weren't coming out. The fire reflected in Harry's green eyes. "All dead," he repeated. "Even Arthur and Molly."
She gasped. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley? They were in the network...?"
"No. They didn't know what I did besides working with the Resistance. But yes, they died."
It was pure luck that he wasn't looking at her in that minute. She wiped the tears that were attempting to come out and spoke again. "Are you sure?"
"The FOS killed them in La Sante."
"But why? Why?" she asked. She couldn't understand how someone could have done that to the nicest people she had ever met.
"Among other things, they were responsible for trying to kill Slytherin. They were valuable people in the Resistance. They worked under my command," Harry explained.
So he knew about Mr. Weasley's activities from the beginning. He knew why they had taken him away... Obviously, she understood he couldn't tell her. "I can't imagine Mrs. Weasley..." she started.
"She was one of our best agents. No one would've suspected a loving mother..." Harry trailed off. Hermione put her hand on his, but he didn't move. "I'm sure it was me... I led them to the FOS."
"Don't say that! This is not your fault," Hermione said firmly.
Harry looked at her for the first time since they had started talking about the war. His green eyes had become darker. "Hermione... Almost everyone related directly to me inside the Resistance are dead."
"That doesn't mean anything," she argued.
"Dead..." He repeated in a whisper.
"Ginny... too?" she asked, almost fearfully.
Harry looked down. "I don't know. They never sent me back the information I requested, so I have no idea what happened to her."
Hermione decided the conversation had to stop. Harry was almost breaking down. "Listen to me, Harry Potter." He looked down at her. It was the first time she had spoken to him in that commanding way. "I don't care what you think. You have saved so many lives, including mine. Those deaths are not because of you, but because of that stupid war. You are fighting for everyone. Never forget that, OK?"
Harry nodded, like a small child receiving a lesson from his mother. "I really don't know what I would do without you," he muttered.
"Well you don't have to worry about that. You'll always have me."
***
The next day, Harry had accompanied her to her apartment. In the front door, Hermione kissed him, not wanting to say goodbye. Harry was about to disapparate, when he turned around.
"Hermione... I love you. Don't ever doubt it."
Hermione saw him leave with tears in her eyes. She closed the door behind her, and leaned against it. During the whole weekend she had forced herself to be strong no matter what. But now that she was alone, there was no need to pretend. She cried for hours. At first she cried for having to say goodbye to Harry. Then she cried for him, for the danger he was facing and the guilt that was tormenting him. She cried for Fleur and for Hagrid. For Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and all their sacrifice. For their sons. For her best friend, Ginny, who was nowehere to be found...
**(End of Flashback)**
Hermione touched her face. It was wet. Dammit, she had promised she wouldn't cry again for him. Of course, that was impossible. Almost every night - and day - she thought about him and ended like that.
She didn't understand what had happened. Why had he stopped writing to her? She had searched for him, of course. Lady McGonagall had talked to a friend in the Resistance... The only information they had given her was that Harry's reports arrived punctual in their deadlines. At least that meant he was alive and hadn't been caught. She wrote him millions of letters, but he never replied. He had sent only three messages after their weekend together. None of them had more than one line.
What had happened was evident, but she didn't want to admit it. Harry had moved on. She had only been an affair... One of those casual relationships that occurred during hard times, like war. Sure, he had told her he loved her, but wasn't that what a gentleman should say in his situation? She had to forget him somehow...
*******
Draco visited her the next day, and the day after. When Hermione realized his intentions weren't just friendly, her first reaction was back away. But then again, why should she do that? She was a single, young witch. She wasn't commited to anyone, so she didn't need to feel guilty for going out with a nice guy. So, determined to move on and slightly pressed by Lady MacGonagall - who said it was time she acted like a 21-year-old-girl - she accepted his invitations.
"What happened to that friend of yours? The pretty red-head... What was her name again?" asked Draco.
"Ginny Weasley," said Hermione.
They were taking a walk through one of Madrid parks. She loved the autumn. The trees were dressed in yellow and red, and the cold breeze was refreshing. It was the fifth time she went out with Draco, but it was the first one they were having a serious conversation.
"The last thing I knew about her was she was in la Sante," she replied finally.
"Oh," Draco said. He didn't want to turn their conversation into one about the war.
"I'll find out about her when I go to Paris," she added.
"You're going to Paris?" He asked, surprised.
"Yes. Now that Slytherin doctrines have been removed there, I can go freely. I'd been wanting to go for a long time to look for my parents and for Ginny, but of course, that would've been suicide. Now it's my chance."
"Well, then, to Paris we'll go," he said, with his hands in his pockets.
"We?" she stopped and looked at him.
"You don't think I'll let you go alone, do you? In case you don't know, there's still a war out there."
"But..." she protested.
"Shh. It's decided. I'll help you in your quest. I have nothing better to do anyway. And it could be a good opportunity for you and me to get... closer."
Hermione knew very well what kind of closeness Draco wanted. In this time they had been 'dating' she had stopped his advances and left the relationship in a strictly platonic tone. However, he never stopped trying.
"Well, I guess I could use the help of a wizard as qualified as you," she said, and then focused her attention in a group of children playing near them, to avoid his piercing stare.
*****
A/N: I know you're wondering about Ginny. You'll know what happened to her in the next chapter. So far the story has only focused on H/Hr relationship, but the real plot starts from now. And please, remember this is AU, so Draco is, as you could see, really OoC.
Bammaslama29: regarding to your question about Mrs. Ollivander, she's separated from her husband because of the war. In times like that, people have a really hard time, so she moved to a neutral place and opened a store so she could help her husband. London (and all the UK) is going through a hard time because of Slytherin's doctrins.