enchanted • draco malfoy

Year 7: Infiltrating the Ministry

Felicity's POV

We planned our infiltration of the Ministry down to the last detail in the weeks that followed while our Polyjuice potion brewed.

I also thought about Draco. A lot. More than I would like to admit, to be honest. I wondered what he was up to; was he at school still? With his parents in their cold, empty house? Or maybe dining beside the Dark Lord, plotting mine and Harry's and Hermione's and Ron's and the whole Wizarding World's demise. Or maybe he was sleeping.

I found myself absentmindedly sketching his eyes, or his hands, or his mouth, in my spare time.

Which was all the time.

The first drawings were so terrible that I ripped it out of my notebook immediately and tossed it in the fire, face burning with embarrassment. They got better, though. His cupid's bow was drawn accurately now, as was his eye shape, and the way his lashes framed them, and his fingers, long and delicate. I had yet to get his eye color quite right, though, nor could I master portraying the proper emotion there, but it was a start.

The four of us stalked the Ministry minions we were to become with close precision, memorizing their schedules and who they seemed to glance at or talk to, but there was only so much to see before they disappeared into the entrance to the Ministry.

Today, however, we'd make our move. It was the same for each of the four people we were to impersonate: Ron would crouch down and tie his shoe while Hermione them. It went without a hitch.

We piled the Ministry workers in a corner of the empty warehouse we were in as I mentally recited the plan. And Plan B. And Plan C.

"Remember," Hermione said, "Don't speak to anyone unless absolutely necessary. Try and act normal. Do what everybody else is doing. If we do that, then with a bit of luck, we'll get inside. And then..."

"It gets really tricky," Harry finished. "Correct," Mione admitted.

"This is completely mental," Ron said. "Completely," I agreed cheerily. "The world's mental," Ron added, as if it was an afterthought, "But come on. We've got a Horcrux to find."

And with that, we downed the potion.

~*~

We emerged from the warehouse as unsuspiciously as possible, walking down the street side-by-side, which probably wasn't smart, but no one bothered to mention that. I think we were all too nervous. I certainly was.

I summoned to mind the picture of Draco's eyes that I drew last night. Almost decent, but not quite. Still, imagining them gave me comfort. I held my head as high as possible, as I'd seen the person I was impersonating, Gertrude, do countless times.

Mione and I split off from Ron and Harry towards the women's lavatories, acting every inch the Ministry witches we were meant to be. We reached the line to the bathroom, where Hermione and I considered the situation for a second before turning to each other and saying simultaneously, "We flush ourselves in."

We smiled secretly before entering our stalls and climbing into the toilets. I bit back on a gag before flushing.

There was a brief moment of the sensation of being spun around quickly, and then we were practically shoved out from a green fireplace and into throngs of people. I straightened immediately, trying to look like I wasn't about to vomit.

Hermione instantly came to my side, nodding her head towards Harry and Ron. We joined them in front of the new statue that was erected in the center of the Ministry. I swore filthily under my breath as Harry asked, "Are those-" "Muggles," Hermione finished with a tight nod, her voice breathless in its anger, "In their... rightful place."