Project 137.43.M.D.

LI. | ULTIMA RATIO

LI.
ULTIMA RATIO
(last resort)

The darkness of the night allowed Hermione to blend in with her surroundings and watch her target unnoticed for quite a while.

It was late and she was a little upset about it, but she just hadn't been able to resist Draco. He was too convincing. Too seductive. Dangerously distracting. And he was a big hindrance to the clear mind she actually needed.

Thanks to her messed-up schedule, she hadn't even gotten to talk to him about the fact that Vivian Pressler's column would likely discredit Hermione in the eyes of the Wizengamot. She would hardly be taken seriously now that the rumor was spreading that she was having an affair with the person she was trying to defend.

So more than ever, she needed Draco to testify. But by the time he had reluctantly let her slip out of his bed, the evening had progressed so far that Hermione hadn't had the time to discuss the matter with him again. Instead, she had hastily dressed and said goodbye, leaving a (for the time being) satisfied Draco Malfoy behind.

Now here she was, eyeing the house across the street intently. She had her fingers wrapped tightly around her wand, hidden in the pocket of her jacket. What she was about to do was undoubtedly dangerous. And probably extremely stupid.

Of course she could have asked Harry for the address as well. However, she knew that he would inevitably have tried to dissuade her from coming here. Reginald Cattermole, for his part, had asked no questions. Ever since Harry, Ron, and Hermione had saved his wife's life in the interrogations of Muggle-born witches and wizards under Dolores Umbridge, he had always been keen to do one of them a favor.

Perhaps it was perfidious to play this trump card now of all times, since Cattermole was of course strictly prohibited to give out the private addresses of Ministry employees without a prior request for information through the official channels, but Hermione had calmed her guilty conscience by telling herself that no one would ever know. And if someone did find out after all, she would play dumb and make up another story.

She started walking and crossed the empty street. The lights on the first floor were still on, so she quickly climbed the few steps to the front door and took another deep breath before raising her hand to knock. After a few seconds, footsteps echoed from inside the townhouse, and finally the door opened.

Hermione produced what she hoped was a friendly smile and blinked innocently at the resident, who looked at her in surprise.

"Granger?"

"Pansy."

They nodded at each other and Hermione gave Pansy a quick once-over. She was wearing a dressing gown, her shoulder-length black hair was firmly tucked behind her ears, and her feet were bare.

"How can I help you?" Pansy asked suspiciously, even wrinkling her nose a little.

Hermione immediately felt the need to give her a snotty reply, but she pulled herself together and feigned indifference.

"Is your husband there?" she asked bluntly.

A touch of relief immediately flickered across Pansy's face, and that was what Hermione had been hoping for. It had been her intention that Pansy would feel safe, assuming Hermione only wanted to speak to Nott. After all, they were basically colleagues, and Pansy probably figured now that her visit was about a Ministry of Magic matter. That was... gratifying.

"He's not here right now, sorry," she replied immediately, though she didn't look like she was really sorry at all. "He's still at a meeting. The Ministry is really busy lately, as I'm sure you know."