A/N. Obviously not all that I write I come up with. Some of it is a reaction to reviews and a lot of reviewers do inject wonderful ideas. Thanks to those who reviewed on ffnet and made this fic what it is.
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Chapter 11 - Tilden Toots and His Three Green Thumbs
Hermione closed her eyes, anticipating and prepared to participate in what she knew would be a more ardent kiss than the last one they shared. The last one…the last passionate one…
An image of a raven-haired man and their last indulgent kiss infiltrated her thoughts.
Why not?
She heard the memory answer with a calm but wounded expression, 'If you really have to, do what you have to do. But it will hurt like hell.'
Without her mind telling it to, her body shifted away from Draco; almost imperceptibly but not subtly enough. He noticed. Hermione was miffed at herself for foolishly wanting to believe that what the memory said was true. She lifted her lids and met his consoling gaze.
"You're not ready," Draco said to her steadily, as if trying to persuade her, "You want to be but you're not."
She did not need convincing. Draco was right, both about not being and wanting to be ready.
"It takes time," he said to her, brushing a few strands of stray brown locks away from her face.
As he did that, she saw him cringe as if suddenly remembering some painful experience.
Pop!
A loud noise coming from behind startled them, causing Draco to instinctively shield Hermione from possible danger. It was the sound of a not so delicate Apparition.
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A few miles away in a secret hiding place, popping sounds filled a large brightly lit hall. Cloaked figures materialized out of thin air, gathered around her and waited as more Death Eaters answered the call of their leader.
Bellatrix Lestrange summoned twelve and was seeing ten. The absence of her most trusted was quite understandable, for her most trusted would know what the meeting was about and, at the moment, would be busy with preparations to ensure its success. As she looked at the younger wizards and witches surrounding her, she could not help but notice how much the face of terror had changed since the Dark Lord's death.
No longer was it enough to sow hatred and reap fear. Nowadays, it was about Galleons and how much wealth mayhem could redirect into their personal coffers. It was about alliances with the unlikely and taking advantage of the unsuspecting, to use each other against common good. It was a young witch's game that she was progressively growing tired of.
The meeting was to ensure everyone knew what to do. Bella wanted perfection because what was about to transpire in Toronto would be her final major contribution to Dark Wizardry. After Toronto she was stepping down to make way for someone with an infusion of fresh ideas, someone who understood that while money was important, it was not the ultimate purpose but merely incidental. Fear, dread, hate, discord, chaos, death and the power to easily cause them; doctrines only someone fascinated and enamoured with the Dark Arts would embrace and uphold over and above all else.
Speculation about her impending departure from the day to day Death Eater operation was increasing. Bella could feel the vultures circling over her not-even-retired-yet body. She had to ensure that her successor of choice would make it. Toronto should do that. And while she did not have children of her own to bequeath the honour to, it was a given that whoever took over as leader of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters had to be one with untainted blood. A Pure-blood.
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Back at the Toronto Ministry of Magic, Harry and Andy were still trapped in briefings about Tom Floyd. They were waiting for what he hoped was the last group of individuals they had to talk to. After almost three hours of the same hogwash, Harry's attention had gone somewhere else. He looked at his Muggle wristwatch. Six twenty. Eleven-twenty London time.
Stop thinking about them.
There was nothing he could do about it right now except hope that the kiss that was plastered on the Prophet Socials page had not happened again; that it would not happen again. Or if it did happen again, he hoped it wouldn't lead into something more intimate, like touching, caressing, and more.
More. Did he not just tell himself to stop thinking about them?
A sharp pain jolted him out of his rumination as Andy kicked him in the shin. He followed her look of admonition and saw that his diversion had caused the portraits of the past and future Canadian Ministers for Magic to levitate precariously above Muller and two other senior Aurors who were deep in discussion. The images within, sensing danger he guessed, had gone to their other portraits.
Andy helped him out with a swoosh of her wand, returning the portraits to their rightful places on the wall, just as the group from the symposium arrived. There were five of them, a witch and four wizards looking rather glum and serious.
Muller addressed them, "We know you are concerned about this most recent threat and would like assurance that your speakers and attendees will be safe."
Assurance or a false sense of security? Harry knew that for the past two years participant safety had been suspect. Knowing what he knew about Floyd, he had suggested to Muller to encourage moving the event to a different venue or maybe changing the order of the speakers. Muller disagreed and he was the boss.
The distinguished elderly witch, a Healer with a rhyming name, spoke, "We have always had confidence in the Toronto MLE, Mr.Muller. This is why we hold the conference here every year."
"Thank you, Healer Hama," part of Muller's job was to kiss ass and be nice.
A rather unpleasant large man spoke. Harry remembered him from last year. Hans Jeeber was head of security.
"My main concern is Mr. Toots," Jeeber said in a confident but squeaky tone. For a large wizard, one would think he would have a larger voice. "You are all aware that the unique and sensitive nature of his work always makes his safety in public a challenge. It would be catastrophic if the specifics of his research fall into the wrong hands."
Tilden Toots, gardener, radio celebrity, this year's keynote speaker. While he typically was terrible with names and did not particularly enjoy Wizard gardening to know the celebrity, he remembered Toots because some time ago, Hermione referred to him as a genius. She said that other than being on radio, the wizard was a recluse and did a lot of groundbreaking plant research, to which Ron had retorted that if he had three green thumbs he'd think himself a freak too and choose to be a hermit. At that time, Hermione merely walked away and he thought nothing of it.
Andy had to ask, "What exactly is his research about?"
Jeeber replied, cryptic, condescending, "He grows plants."
"My aunt listens to his wireless radio program 'Toots, Shoots n Roots'. He's a gardener. I know he grows plants," Harry could sense that Andy was trying her best to behave and not jinx the prick.
Healer Hama answered, "His radio program does not do justice to his brilliance. He's not your typical gardener. He grows magical plants that no one else can and he creates new ones. His altered mandrakes are less difficult and less time consuming to mature. The Toots gilliweed is safe and easy to use aquatic schools throughout the world have utilized it on students for years. The list goes on. With time, he can make and change any plant property, including the not so beneficial ones. It's this expertise that will be quite dangerous if used inappropriately."
Jeeber asked, "How exactly are you going to ensure that Mr. Toots will be unharmed?"
"Mr. Jeeber, with your cooperation Mr. Toots will be looked after better than the Canadian Minister for Magic."
With that, Muller went on to specifics about how exactly he envisioned it would work, which basically was to surround Mr. Toots with Aurors.
"Do you think Floyd is really up to something?" Jeeber wanted to know how serious this threat was.
"Yes," Muller replied.
"Your source, is it reliable?"
"Yes," Muller deadpanned.
"It seems stupid that the Squib would try again. You arrested him last year, granting you did not have enough evidence you had to release him. But he's only a Squib. How much harm can he do?"
Harry cautioned, "I wouldn't do that."
Jeeber asked, mocking, "What? Call him the Squib that he is?"
"Underestimate him. He's not stupid either," Harry ignored Jeeber's snide tone. "Who do you think our reliable source is?"
"Floyd?" Jeeber shot the question at Muller, who did not deny it. They had found out that all the tips about Floyd being involved came from the man himself.
Harry added, "He's confident and cocky. He wants us to know that he's coming."
"Then arrest him! Now!" Healer Hama demanded.
"We don't have anything on Floyd and he'll be out in no time at all," Muller explained, "Then he'll have us waste our limited resources explaining ourselves to the courts and to the press."
"But why is he doing this?" Healer Hama obviously could not begin to understand the workings of a sick mind.
Andy answered, "Well, aside from the fact that he's evil, he wants revenge."
"For what?!"
Harry's jaw tightened as he replied, "His brother's death."
Harry barely listened as Muller explained the events of last year and the circumstances surrounding Floyd's brother's death. Last year, Floyd's brother died in prison while awaiting trial for the murder of the Healer, Helga Braun, and over a dozen robberies committed at the conference.
At the time of his suicide at the Toronto Squib Detention Facility not many knew that the head hunter who went by the name of Tex Waxball was Tom Floyd's older brother.
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"Nice of you to pop in, Weasley," Draco said to the red-head, visibly annoyed at her appearing uninvited.
Ginny gave him a frosty look, "Cool car, Malfoy. A MINI; how appropriate, in so many different ways."
"Thanks," he replied sarcastically. It seemed that Ginny had finally succeeded and pushed Draco over the edge, "Back seat comfy enough? I heard you used to spend a lot of time on them."
Hermione was surprised that Draco knew about that considering that it happened such a long time ago and it was with one particular boy whose memory always got her best friend upset. Ginny's face was beet red.
"Gee, four hours into a date and you haven't even made base yet. What's taking so long? Was it the wait at the pharmacy for your Viagra?"
Hermione had heard enough. She was furious at Ginny for treating her like she was twelve.
"What are you doing?!"
"How did it go?" Ginny asked with a tone that feigned interest. Hermione knew she was asking about the date.
"It's still going," Hermione said through her teeth.
"Carry on then. I'll wait. I don't mind," and with that Ginny leaned back and watched them.
This was ridiculous! What was she thinking?
Hermione turned to Draco and said, "Excuse us."
She got out of the car, giving Ginny a scalding look that could only mean she had to follow. Her arms across her chest, she waited for Ginny to join her up the walkway close to her front porch. She was fuming, particularly after seeing that Ginny was really enjoying herself.
"I guess we went with the slutty look tonight. We didn't want to leave much up to imagination, did we?" Ginny commented upon seeing what she was wearing,
Defensive, Hermione tried to explain, "It was unintentional!"
"Intentional or not, Malfoy got a clear message. The words 'bed me' are all over you."
"I was distracted!"
"You definitely weren't the only one. I could see him feasting on your cleavage from behind Mrs. Cooper's hydrangea," she motioned to the healthy bush on her neighbour's property that had a great view of the front seats of Draco's car.
"You were watching?"
"Very briefly; I couldn't stand it I just had to interrupt. Seeing you with him was making me seriously nauseous. That and Mrs. Cooper's German shepherd was licking my neck."
It suddenly dawned on her what else Ginny had done. She could strangle her right then and there!
"How low can you go? Your mother?"
"She wanted to practice using her cell phone."
"Really, at eleven at night?"
"She's pretty eager. And she wanted to help."
Ugh! She had the nerve to be so nonchalant!
"And I can't believe you called my Mum and dragged her into this!"
"How is Fiona? We didn't get a chance to chat. Is she still with your Uncle Frank?"
"You've definitely crossed the line! How could you? I never got Molly involved when you were brainless enough to carry on with Mr. Right who turned out to be Mr. Very-Much Engaged and then Mr. Already-Married."
And she should have; she really should have.
"Ah, yes, my stupid year. Such wonderful bitter memories. By the way, thanks for not telling my Mum. I agree that was worse than this but enough about me. This is about your idiocy. So, do you have an answer?"
"The night was young. I was still working on it, until you showed up," she replied angrily, realizing that she couldn't keep the promise she made earlier about finding out why she went out with Draco. She might as well blame Ginny for it.
"And you think you'd find the answer by having sex with him? You were going to sleep with him, weren't you?"
"I guess we'll never know the answer to that question."
Hermione did not want to admit to anything that really may not have happened at all. She was so infuriated that she did not want Ginny to feel more pleased about herself than she already did, even if she likely did prevent her from inviting Draco into her flat.
"You'll thank me for this when we're old and grey. Come on. We're going to be late."
Hermione eyed her with suspicion, "Late for what?"
"I guess you don't have yours on you," Ginny showed her a bright silvery medallion than was changing hues, "The Order beckons. It went off in Malfoy's car."
"If this is another scheme to…"
Ginny did not let her finish, "Look, my Mum and your Mum, I admit. But this isn't me. I can't call a meeting, you know that."
"What do you think it's about?"
"It has to be about Ragnok. He's missing."
"What?!"
Hermione did overhear a couple of Healers talking about some commotion at Gringotts on her way out earlier that night.
"If you could take your head out of the clouds and smell the rubbish with the rest of us for a moment maybe you can help figure this one out. I'll fill you in on our way to Neville's."
Neville Longbottom was a Hogwarts classmate and he had a house about a kilometre north from her. The meeting must be really important for Neville and Professor McGonagall to leave Hogwarts for the night.
Ginny paused and eyed her from top to bottom and continued, "Before we go, you should change into something that won't give some of the more senior members of the Order a heart attack. It's hard enough recruiting members as it is."
"Will you shut up about the dress, already?" Hermione spat back. "You can wear it on your next date, though I seriously doubt it'll stay on you for very long!"
"Definitely not as long as it stayed on you."
Ginny chuckled and then began to laugh hysterically. Not long after that Hermione joined her.
"Viagra?" Hermione had tears in her eyes.
"I knew you'd like that," Ginny replied, "After you got over being angry at me."
"I am still angry at you."
"No, you're not."
They were about to go into her flat when Ginny stopped her.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Ginny pointed out, watching Hermione struggle before saying, "Ditch the ferret."
"Oh, right," Hermione replied and walked towards Draco's car, thinking about Ragnok, coming to the same conclusion about a Firenze connection as Ginny had, then making a mental note to tell Ginny that the dog that was licking her must have been a stray because none of her neighbours owned one.
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Not ten minutes later, a blue car sped into the underground parking garage of a modest downtown London condominium and haphazardly parked in one of the tenant spots. Its driver quickly got out, not caring that he left his vehicle unlocked as he ran into the elevator and hurriedly pressed "12". It was a good thing she had to excuse herself because if she didn't, he would have, and he would have had to lie to her. He didn't want to lie to her, at least no more than he had to.
The elevator doors mercifully opened and he rushed into his apartment and into the study, tossing his jacket aside. His grey eyes could not mask the excruciating agony he was feeling on his left forearm, favouring it heavily as he lit a fire under his cauldron, found the ingredients he needed from his potion supply cupboard and poured everything in all at once.
The potion was easy enough to make but useless unless ingested within an hour. It was still scorching hot. He glanced at the picture on his desk with an image of a striking woman smiling at him, and that took the edge off a bit until the next wave of throbbing came on cue, bringing him close to tears. This was not a problem when he was in Michigan.
Unable to wait, he took his wand and muttered a spell. The potion cooled down to room temperature. He lifted his left arm onto the table, rolled up his sleeve and watched the red angry skull and snake figure fade away as he drank the entire concoction. There was immediate pain relief that he knew would last at least twenty four hours.
Aunt Bella sure was summoning the troops more frequently lately. If Aunt Bella kept this up, he would have to make and take the potion at least once a day or keep a cauldron on him at all times. Or maybe he should just tell her so he wouldn't have to lie. She must know he had the Death Eater's Dark Mark and if she didn't know, she would find out soon enough.
Feeling much better, he picked up his phone and stared at it for quite some time. This thing with her was not what he expected at all. He turned away from the smiling woman's picture, pressed the numbers on the phone keypad and waited. It was ringing.
"It's me…about Mexico…"