Chapter Twenty Seven: Delay Tactics

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"What's going on in that head of yours?" He inquired, bringing one hand up to caress her cheek, "If this is all too fast for you..."

"It's not that. I've started to think about the whole reason we've been meeting in the first place." Hermione replied, gazing down at him seriously. "The ceremony. The relic. The Elder wand. I have a question I want you to answer."

"And what's that?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, feeling nervous that he wouldn't open up to her after everything. "The person that's trying to cause another uprising. To be able to control Inferius like Death Eaters used to during the war. Who is it? It's one of your friends isn't it?"

Draco glanced at her for a moment. He appeared to be battling with a decision which she was afraid of, but then he looked at her solemnly. A quiet sigh escaped him.

"It's Blaise. Blaise Zabini."




Delay Tactics




She wanted to be intimidating, but there wasn't much she was working with. Hermione was seated at his desk wearing a long t-shirt of his and nothing else. To no ones surprise, it was another Slytherin Quidditch related print. It fell to a few inches above her thighs and he was gazing at her like his mind was running rampant with ideas.

Focus Hermione.

Not only was she not intimidating wearing his shirt that swallowed her, but she was eating chicken noodle soup that Droopy had prepared, and it was delicious.

Hermione cleared her throat, "Tell me everything."

His eyes sparked at the command in her voice, his stare sizing her up. Like she thought; not intimidating in the slightest. Luckily he cared for her and would humor her if nothing else.

"About Blaise?"

She rolled her eyes, dipping the spoon into the broth. "Stop stalling. Playing stupid doesn't suit you in the slightest."

"What does suit me?" He inquired with the curve of a smile on his face, "You shaking on my lap from an orgasm using just my fingers?"

Hermione felt the warmth spread across her cheeks and didn't have to look at her reflection in the window to know she was blushing, "Malfoy."

"Granger." He drawled casually by the bookshelf next to her.

Draco was only wearing cotton trousers, knowing that she tended to stare at his abdomen and how his forearms would flex reaching for a book. The bastard was even wearing his reading glasses and Hermione knew that he knew what he was doing.

Pretentious prat.

And she really liked him.

"You can't just tell me a name." She pointed out, frowning. "Don't I deserve to know the whole story if I'm the one helping you in all of this?"

He shook his head with a shrug, "No because you're off the case now."

The spoon dropped into the soup. "What?!" She stood up, "What do you mean?"

Draco sighed and placed the book he wasn't actually reading back on the shelf, "It's going to be dangerous, Granger. I'm not going to-"

"-finish that sentence you chauvinistic, arrogant, twitchy little ferret." She pointed her finger into his chest, glaring heatedly at him, "If you think for a moment that I'm staying out of a fight because you're worried about my well-being, how does that make any sense when I'm worried about yours. Let's start and finish this argument here. I'm helping you. You're going to allow me to help. And so help me Merlin, if you try to hide any information from me I'm going to set your 800 thread count fancy as fuck sheets on fire."

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