In the Mood

Muffy- Thank you ever so much for your interest in my story. Just to let you know though, that was the first and the last time you will hear of that particular Potter in this fanfiction. I had him in there for two reasons, one to show how strong the familial resemblance was in the Potter clan and the other so that Hermione could see a familiar face that would remind her of home. As for whether or not this wizard was or was not Harry's grandfather, is unimportant to the story. Once again thanks, and please keep reading.

PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!!!

Chapter Four


Hermione was lying on her stomach with her face buried into the shirt she had been wearing when she heard the yelling. Slowly, painfully, she got up, put the shirt back on and went over to the door of the examination room. The mediwitch that had been seeing to her was standing in front of the door, blocking Alastor’s way.


Feeling tired and not wanting to be alone, Hermione said, “What took you so long?”


“This witch kept me out,” he told her. “Let’s get you back in there, Missy.” He stepped around the witch and walked Hermione straight back over into the room. The moment the door was closed he asked, “Why are you…” His voice left him the moment she took the shirt off. He spun around quickly and snapped, “Merlin’s teeth, woman, get that shirt back on!”


“The mediwitch wants it off to examine my back, you ninny,” she muttered.


“What’s wrong with your back?” he asked, looking over at her as she lay down on her stomach.


“Nothing that a muscle relaxant potion won’t solve,” she told him.


Slowly he wanted over to where she was lying and looked at her naked back. Her smooth, creamy, very touchable naked back, he thought as he was trying to keep himself from caressing her skin. But then he saw it several faint scars in random areas on her back. He looked closely at them and was shocked to realize what they were.


“Who used the Cruciatus curse on you?”


“No one you know,” she whispered. “Yet.”


“How long?” he asked, his voice rough.


“I don’t know,” she told him. “An hour, maybe three. I don’t know. You never know. The pain takes over nearly everything.”


He saw her back spasm then and her hands going tight on the shirt she was holding onto. He went around so that he was next to her head. Alastor took her hands into one of his own.


“Grip as hard as you need to,” he told her, as he wiped her tears off her face.


Five minutes later the mediwitch came into the room, looking scared as Alastor glared over at her.


She cleared her throat and said, “It appears that you need to spend the night…”


“Like bloody hell I do,” Hermione snapped. “I only need that potion I told you about. One drop of the concentrate into a liter of water.”


“I am afraid…” Hermione sat up and put her shirt back on.


She got into the witch’s face and said, “I’m not a test subject. I’m leaving.” Alastor wrapped his arm around her and helped her walk out of the examination room.


Once back to the house, Hermione lay down with her head buried under a pillow in the basement room. She was trying to relax, but her back continued to spasm. She was on the verge of tears, when she felt Alastor pulled her shirt up slightly. He began to massage her back, his hands covered with a cream that had her letting out a long sigh of relief.


He pulled back when he felt her go totally lax. Alastor lifted the pillow from her face and saw that she was sound asleep. His hand was shaking as he stroked her hair. He lay down on the bed next to her, as he continued to comb her hair away from her face. The auror knew he had work to see to and that he couldn’t lay around with her all day. But at the same time he didn’t want to leave her alone. Her golden eyes opened and she looked into his, making his breathing stop.


“Thank you,” she murmured, her eyes already drifting back shut and she back into slumber.


“You are very welcome, Hermione,” he said, hoarsely, making him wish not for the first time that he wasn’t the ugly man that he was.


***


Hermione woke to the sound of yelling coming from upstairs. She got up, stretching out her back to find that she was feeling worlds better. Once she got upstairs she found Alastor arguing with who could only be a Ministry official.


“There is no way a Malfoy would do this dreadful crime!” he yelled. “Do you know how much money they have? They are one of the most influential wizarding families in this country!” He took a deep breath, puffing out as he did so. “And to accuse a boy of killing his own father? That’s-that’s…”


“That’s logical.” Both the men looked over to her. “When there is a great amount money and familial influence, the first logical place to look is within the family. After all, we are talking about not the father’s wealth at this time, but the son’s inheritance.” She went over to stand next to Moody. “Which you just stated was quite a large, very full vault.”


The man went red in the face, but she wasn’t done yet.


“Just what do you do, sir? What is your job at the Ministry?”


“I am the assistant to the Minister of Magic!” he exclaimed.


“Bully for you, sir,” she said dryly. “But pray tell, where is it your business to stick your nose into a murder investigation? You are not the head of the aurors. Your job is to assist the Minister of Magic with his daily appointments. You, sir, are a glorified secretary.” The man’s face was purple at this point. “I strongly suggest you pull back and attend the duties for which you are employed.” When he was about to erupt, she yanked his face down by his robes and snarled, “Don’t even think it. It won’t take that much to investigate your background and find a connection between you and Abraxas Malfoy. Chances are that you were in the same class or house at Hogwarts. If that isn’t the case, we can always ask the tailor who made your very expensive robes just how much you paid for them.” He yanked away from her.


“You are mad!” he yelled at her.


“No, sir, I am right, you have a connection and I am going to find it. Once I do, I will have to tell the Daily Prophet.” She began to walk away, but stopped and said, “Unless of course you simply tell Alastor here everything you know about the Malfoys as well as why you would be foolish enough to try to block the investigation and thus bring all the attention to yourself as a prime suspect.”


The man had paled painfully. She looked over to Alastor with a smile. “I’m going to find a book to read. Have fun with your interrogation.”


***


Hermione was reading in the basement, when she knew that Alastor was watching her. Looking up to him, she smiled as he walked over and sat down next to her.


“He admitted that he and Abraxas Malfoy were in the same year and in Slytherin together as well,” he said leaning back against the wall.


“But?” she asked.


“He was only asked to find out how the investigation was going, not to interfere. It would appear he took this upon himself to do,” he finished.


She put the book aside, curling up next to him as she rested her head on his shoulder. “Is it mandatory for idiots to be hired on in the upper levels of the Ministry of Magic?”


“No, Missy, but it appears not to hurt if you are one,” he muttered, his arm, pulling her closer to himself and kissing her on the head.


“So what now?” she asked him, absently rubbing his shoulder with her face.


“Now we have to find out just who would want the former Lord Malfoy dead and why,” he sighed. “Needless to say, I am not looking forward to it.”


“Chances are that it is Abraxas,” she murmured.


“I know, but I don’t want to be accused of narrowing my investigation before I had the facts,” he replied. “Missy…Hermione…How is it that we know each other?”


“We are in the same organization together,” she answered. “But we don’t know each other that well. We know more of each other than anything.”


“How so?”


She pulled away from him, saying, “I can’t tell you about the future. It would change things too radically. It’s bad enough I told you my name.” She turned away from him. “I want to tell you. More than anything I want to tell you everything, but I can’t risk it.” She looked into his icy blue eyes. “Please believe me when I say that I would if I could.”


He got up and stomped out of the basement, slamming the door shut. She flinched. Hermione knew that this wouldn’t go well, but it felt worse than she had thought it would have. More than anything at this point she wished that Dumbledore would come back from his trip.

***

Please read and review!!