The Silver Envelope

Who Makes your Tea?

When Draco was fifteen, his Aunt Bellatrix had started teaching him Occlumency.
It was a brutal process, made especially so by his dear Aunt Bella's "special" teaching techniques.
He'd grown to both hate and rely on her visits. They were torture, often literally, but the skills he'd learned from it had enormous applicability.
Take now, for instance, when he had to figure out a way to rein in his emotions while listening to a very drunk Hermione tell him about how Weasley had attempted to drug and kidnap her over their Valentine's tea tray.
Then again, his Aunt Bella had taught him how to do all sorts of other things as well, many of which he thought he might like to try on Weasley tonight.
Draco's breaths felt stilted.
Weasley, in his mind, was as good as dead.
"Don't kill 'im, Draco," Hermione slurred, guessing his thoughts. "Murder wrong, remember?
Stay here with me."
Draco took a deep, steadying breath, staring at the heart-shaped bottle Hermione had placed on the sitting room table for him to see.
"Please tell me," he said, seething, "that you at least defended yourself. Did you do anything before you left?"
Hermione smiled.
"I firewhipped his face, twice," she said miming a whip sliding across each of her cheeks. "And then," she hiccupped as she leaned her head closer to him, grinning excitedly, "I told his mum."
She erupted into giggles at this, but Draco was having a difficult time seeing the humor of the situation.
Cold, erratic sparks of magic zipped through his veins, tingling along his nerves. Draco gritted his teeth, taking shallow breaths and attempting to redirect his thoughts. But the image of Hermione being forced to follow Weasley home like an adoring puppet refused to leave his head. There were many things Draco wanted to do to Weasley at the moment- -none of which he would survive.
"I see you, thinking about it," Hermione said, batting her eyes at him knowingly. "I know you want to use the Cruciatus Curse on him."
Draco kept his face impassive.
"Why do you say that?" he asked.
"Because I wanted to, she said, her eyes drifting away as she remembered something. "I thought about it, saying crucio. It would have worked, too. But," she yawned, breaking the tension of her heavy statement, "then I thought that telling his mum would be a worse form of torture."
She began to giggle again. Draco's lips twitched despite himself. Briefly, he remembered the Howler Weasley had received in their second year. He didn't imagine a mum like that would go
easy on her son. The thought made him feel marginally better.
"I told Harry and Ginny, too," she said. "And then I went for a drink."
"Mm." Draco answered. "What did Potter say?"
"He was speechless," Hermione said. "Looked like he was going to throw up, actually."
Draco stood, unable to keep himself still. His hands flexed at his sides as he paced, dying to wrap themselves around Wesley's neck.
"Why's it always tea?" Hermione was mumbling. "Why do people keep trying to put stuff in my favorite drink?"
He needed to do something. Needed to make sure nothing like this would ever happen again.
Draco crossed the room and picked up his phone to dial a number.
"Who're you calling?" Hermione asked, lolling her head to the side to look up at him.
Draco didn't answer, simply waiting for the other line to pick up.
"Hello?" Potter said through the phone.

"Potter. You heard what happened?" Draco said, impressed by how calm he sounded.
On the sofa, Hermione's eyes were wide as she watched him
"Yeah, she told me," Potter said with a sigh.
Cold, exacting words flowed from Draco's mouth then, leaving Potter no room to interrupt.
"Good. I called to say that since you're clearly too incompetent to protect Granger yourself, I'll be taking over for you. Additionally, if Weasley ever comes near her again-if he so much as accidentally trips and falls into the same room as her- I will kill him. In broad daylight, in front of witnesses- I will end his life with a single slash of my wand, and I will feel no remorse
Hermione looked up at him, her face full of shock and dread. Only silence came through the telephone
"I just wanted to pay you the courtesy of offering a warning," Draco said smoothly. "Please do me the favor of passing it on to Weasley."
With a sharp click, Draco placed the phone back into its receiver.
Hermione's breaths started to come in short gasps. She made to sit up, the better to face him
properly
"Draco," she panted, "you shouldn't have done that! Harry's an Auror, he has to take threats like that seriously.
"Good," Draco said unfeelingly. "Because I was serious."
This did not appear to soothe Hermione's panic. She began to hyperventilate.
"He tried to force you, Hermione," Draco growled. "If you had drunk that tea, he might have raped
you."
Hermione swallowed, closing her eyes.
...I don't know," she said unsteadily. "He said that sex wasn't his plan. He said he just wanted to get me away from you, because you had done something to me. Changed me."
"And you believe him?" Draco said, his voice dripping with scorn.
Hermione pursed her lips, looking away from him.
"I don't know. I hope not but... I don't know."
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing hard.
Draco seethed silently.
Hermione wasn't in a proper state of mind to realize it, but Draco knew exactly what Weasley's plan had been.
The effects of Amortentia only lasted for a few days, a week tops. The very moment the potion had worn off, Hermione would have bolted. If Weasley's intent was to keep her away from Draco, he would have had to keep her dosed indefinitely. For weeks, months, perhaps longer. Draco highly doubted that Weasley would have let all that time pass, living with Hermione at her most affectionate and willing, without taking advantage of her.
Hermione was staring at him, watching him think.
She had whipped the bastard for it, literally. It was something, at least. Draco wished he could have seen her do it. He bet she had been an incredible sight, forcing Weasley to his knees, making him beg for her mercy. He deserved much more than what he had got, but for now, it needed to be enough. Hopefully the scars on his face would never fade, and serve to remind Weasley every day
of what he had done
Hermione's eyes were sleepy with liquor. Draco felt the corner of his mouth tilt up at the soft sight.
A vengeful and fierce force of nature one moment, then sweet and giggly not two hours later.
She had changed so much since he had seen her that day at the bar. Back then, she had been fearful and mistrusting of him, ready to draw her wand and defend herself at a moment's notice. She had berated herself for giving him the smallest insight into her relationship with Weasley. He'd been sure, back then, that there would always be a barrier of distrust between them.