Catwalker
by
The Goddess Bastet
Rated R just to be safe.
Summary : Hermione has to work undercover at a beauty pageant... while being under the watchful eye of a certain Draco Malfoy. Any resemblance to "Miss Congeniality" is not exactly co- incidental.
Disclaimer: I do not own "Harry Potter" and associated characters and terms.
Genre: Romance, Comedy, Drama, Thriller, Horror.
Chapter 1: Propositions
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
She stumbled as her bare foot hit a partially concealed rock, and she would have fallen hard if she hadn't grasped desperately at the bark of a nearby tree. Her fingers were thoroughly scraped and bruised and her feet stung from the thorny bramble and rocky ground over which she scrambled. Her robes were tattered as a result of being ripped by low-lying branches as she fled past them. She ignored the pain because she had to. Her pursuer was close - she could sense it, even though she couldn't hear anything other than her own shallow pants. She didn't dare look behind her but continued to struggle onwards in the dark, vast wood. Terror propelled her to move even though she had no idea where to go. She felt as though she was being herded to her doom.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Hermione woke up gasping for breath and covered in a cold sheen of sweat.
Another nightmare.
She made a mental note to give the local Sandman a call and register a complaint about his lousy services. Trembling, she looked at her bedside clock and moaned when she saw that it was 2AM. There was no way in hell she'd be able to fall back asleep now. A bad thing, seeing that Hermione Granger desperately needed her sleep. She needed to be sharp and in control for when she met with the review board later that morning. Just thinking about the ordeal that she'd be facing several hours later was enough to make her groan in despair. Resting an arm over her tired eyes, she decided that it wouldn't hurt to go over her appeal just one more time...
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
"Miss Granger, I'm afraid that the review board is not willing to let you back into the Auror Squad at this stage."
With those words, Hermione's eyes closed briefly in pain at her defeat. She'd worked so hard...
"However," continued the Minister of Magic, "we feel that you have served your suspension well, and that you should remain within the Ministry of Magic. To that end, we feel that your talents could be used in a different field. It has been unanimously agreed that you should be assigned to the Potions Lab, as you are experienced in that area. Your position will be re-evaluated after 12 months after which we may decide to return you to Law Enforcement. If you find the new position unacceptable, you may of course, resign from the Ministry."
Hermione rubbed her throbbing temple furiously. One little breach of conduct after nothing less than exemplary service and she's not an Auror anymore. Harry and Ron would be so disappointed. Looking up finally she realised that Fudge and his cronies were waiting for her to say something. Drawing a deep breath she answered in as calm a manner as she could muster.
"Minister, I accept."
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
6 Months later
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
The figure, shrouded in robes, strode menacingly across the rough-edged rock that floored the cavern. The cowering woman, who lay sprawled across the ground, looked up beseechingly, pleading with her eyes to be spared.
Yet she knew.
She knew that there was no hope.
She knew that this was to be her end.
Under the dark shadow of the hood, her assailant smiled: A cold and sinister smile - and along with a regal raise of the wand, the words which could not be undone were uttered in a soft - but powerful - voice.
"Avada Kedavra"
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
"Another murder!" groaned Harry Potter as he read the latest owl mail from the Minister of Magic. Within the month, a total of four witches had been declared missing, only to turn up a few days later - as horribly disfigured corpses. Each of the women had been beauties: young, nubile and attractive, as was evident from the photographs that their weeping families had presented him with.
It was sometimes hard, he admitted to himself, to do the job he did. Working for the Ministry of Magic in the Magical Crimes Investigation Unit - a special branch of the Auror Squad - had exposed him to the harsher elements of human depravity. Lord Voldemort had not been the first, nor had he been the last wizard to cross over to the Dark side. Society had always had unpleasant pests on its back and it was Harry's - and Ron's - job to pour on the flea powder. Not for the first time, he wished that Hermione was still on the squad. She offered him a different perspective on motives and generally was the best partner to have in stressful conditions. Ron, brilliant Auror though he may be, tended to lose his head when the job became too gruesome or involved spiders. If only Hermione hadn't got herself suspended, she'd be helping him on this case.
He thought about the victims. They were all contestants in an upcoming competition - the "Witch Weekly's Annual Miss Charming Beauty Pageant. If any answers were to be found, it would be best to start there.
And that's when the plan struck him.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
"Fig tree bark? Why would he add fig tree bark?" muttered Hermione as she surveyed her junior assistant's list of potential ingredients for a project in process. From the corner of her eye she could see an owl waiting impatiently for her to acknowledge it. She continued to ignore it. The Potion Lab job, although accepted with resentment, had fast become Hermione's lifeline. As head of the Experimental Potions Division she'd poured all the excess energy that had been harbouring within her during her suspension into creating new concoctions and brews which could be used to heal, cure, harm or even destroy. It was a very time-consuming science which demanded patience and much concentration. She needed to record every hypothesis, formula, ingredient and step, as well as every success and failure. It was a job that, once started, had to be done with utmost devotion until the last phase of completion.
And when did Hermione Granger ever not devote herself completely to a project?
So when she read the note that the Ministry owl had just brought her, it would be understandable that she was not at all pleased.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Hermione tapped her fingers impatiently against the wooden arm of the chair on which she sat - or rather, slouched. It had been a long day of standing bent over couldrons in the Potion Lab and her back ached. It did not help her mood any, to be summoned like a house-elf who had nothing to do but hasten to Fudge's beck and call - and then be kept waiting for a full twenty minutes. Instead of of becoming one with the furniture outside the illustrious main office of the Ministry of Magic, she could have been using her time constructively. She was impatient to test out her theory that a concoction of dahlia juice , thistle and certain benthos from the Mediterranean Sea as well as certain other ingredients boiled in protean alcohol would result in a potion which would allow the drinker to...
"Miss Granger?"
Her train of thought broken, she looked up to see Cornelius Fudge's face appear from his doorway. After beckoning her inside, he invited her to sit with a single imperial gesture to a chair as he himself settled into his plush throne. Idly, Hermione noticed that his desk was large, wide and made of the highest quality wood. She also noticed that the work in his "In" tray overwhelmed the papers in the "Out" box by at least a ratio of 7:1.
Not being a man who faffed about - unless he had something important to say - he got straight to the point. "Well, Miss Granger. I'm about to make you a proposition. A proposition, which I hope that you won't refuse."
'Oh Merlin! So the rumours are true," thought Hermione frantically. There had been murmurs floating around that the reason so many witches had resigned from their high-class posts in the Ministry, was because Fudge had made them indecent proposals of raised salaries in return for clandestine...ahem...encounters.
It appeared that she, Hermione Granger, was the next intended victim of Fudge's overzealous appetite. Suddenly she was not quite so admiring of Fudge's very long, very wide and very strong desk.
"I'm not sleeping with you!" she blurted out, cringing even as the words left her mouth. She had the unfortunate gift of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time - as had been very well proved in her fifth year of Hogwarts when she had basically told the proudly independent centaurs of the Forbidden Forest that she had used them to get rid of "Professor" Umbridge. Not to mention that spending so much time with the Weasleys had affected the part of her brain that would normally deal with tact. Her mouth, as a result, often worked quite independently of her brain.
In horror, she watched Fudge blink in confusion, and as the full impact of her words struck him, a scarlet flush unfolded across his face like a red carpet at an important muggle celebrity event. Already, she could see her instant dismissal and any hope of re-joining the Aurors dashed.
Then he burst out laughing.
"Miss Granger," he chuckled heartily, "I do enjoy your sense of humor. It's not everyday that I hear such outrageous outbursts."
Hermione stared at him, trying to figure out where she stood exactly in the proceedings. So perhaps sex was not on the old gull's menu and it most certainly appeared that she wasn't the catch of the day either, thank Merlin.
'Insulted the Boss and didn't get fired', she thought, 'maybe this isn't such a lousy day after all.'
"Jokes aside," he continued in his annoying sing-song voice, "we must address a very serious matter. As I said, I have a proposition for you. I know that you have another 6 months before your next evaluation, but circumstances have come to pass which require your services. Mr Potter - whom, as of course you know, is head of the Magical Crimes Investigation Unit - has made a special request to the board to allow him to send you on a short-term undercover assignment. As the specifics indicate that we have no other qualified Auror who can do the job - unfortunately Nymphadora is away on maternity leave - the board has decided that you should be awarded the chance to redeem yourself. If you prove yourself capable, you will be immediately returned - with full honours - to your former post within the Auror Squad. You would not have to wait for a further six months for the board's decision."
Hermione could hardly believe her ears. They were giving her a second chance?
"Of course," Fudge continued in a sterner voice, "we have laid down conditions to which you must comply. Failure to do so will result in your absolute dismissal from Auror duty with no honours. Your position within the Ministry may even come under review, and we may decide not to keep you in the Potion Lab. Is that understood?"
"Yes Sir."
"Right. Let's discuss your case. Mr Potter has been working on an extremely disturbing investigation. Four witches have been killed in the last month." He handed her a file which consisted of photographs of the bodies. Hermione could see how the victims' faces had been grotesquely disfigured. She did not grimace. She glanced at pictures taken of the deceased before their untimely deaths. They had all been young, attractive women just reaching the zenith of their beauty. Paging through their biographies she noted that all had been registered contestants for the upcoming "Miss Charming" pageant. Hermione suddenly had a horrible inkling as to what her assignment would be.
"Mr Potter has decided that the best course of action would be to infiltrate the pageant - to have someone inside who can keep an eye out, report back information, etcetera. Ideally," he said peering skeptically at her, "someone who could pose as a contestant."
Hermione then knew that her worst fears were coming true.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
"The board is not eager to send you on a solo assignment - you understand why, of course. After your last debacle, the risk is too high. Hence we have decided to partner you with one of our deep-cover operatives. He'll essentially be your back-up and a surety for us that you don't foul up this time. You'll take orders from him and he will report back to us whether or not it's worth taking you back on the squad. Mr Potter had volunteered to do the job himself but it would be unwise for him to even attempt any undercover work. He is, after all the very famous "Boy-who-Lived". The agent that we have found for you comes with the highest of credentials. He is known to entrench himself completely in his roles. I have no doubt that you'd learn a thing or two from him."
Hermione gritted her teeth at the insinuation that she was a novice. She'd begun training as an Auror immediately after leaving school and in the four years since, she'd clocked more fieldtime than many more senior and so- called "experienced" dark-wizard catchers.
Fudge stood up from his cushioned recliner and strolled towards a door that Hermione had never noticed before. She realised that it was an entrance to a secret chamber that could only be visible to those that Fudge wanted to see it.
He placed his hand on the doorknob and gave it a slight turn to open it merely a crack - probably to alert the person on the other side - before turning back to face Hermione.
"I'd like you to meet your new partner..."
He swung open the door.
"...Mr Draco Malfoy."
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
by
The Goddess Bastet
Rated R just to be safe.
Summary : Hermione has to work undercover at a beauty pageant... while being under the watchful eye of a certain Draco Malfoy. Any resemblance to "Miss Congeniality" is not exactly co- incidental.
Disclaimer: I do not own "Harry Potter" and associated characters and terms.
Genre: Romance, Comedy, Drama, Thriller, Horror.
Chapter 1: Propositions
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
She stumbled as her bare foot hit a partially concealed rock, and she would have fallen hard if she hadn't grasped desperately at the bark of a nearby tree. Her fingers were thoroughly scraped and bruised and her feet stung from the thorny bramble and rocky ground over which she scrambled. Her robes were tattered as a result of being ripped by low-lying branches as she fled past them. She ignored the pain because she had to. Her pursuer was close - she could sense it, even though she couldn't hear anything other than her own shallow pants. She didn't dare look behind her but continued to struggle onwards in the dark, vast wood. Terror propelled her to move even though she had no idea where to go. She felt as though she was being herded to her doom.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Hermione woke up gasping for breath and covered in a cold sheen of sweat.
Another nightmare.
She made a mental note to give the local Sandman a call and register a complaint about his lousy services. Trembling, she looked at her bedside clock and moaned when she saw that it was 2AM. There was no way in hell she'd be able to fall back asleep now. A bad thing, seeing that Hermione Granger desperately needed her sleep. She needed to be sharp and in control for when she met with the review board later that morning. Just thinking about the ordeal that she'd be facing several hours later was enough to make her groan in despair. Resting an arm over her tired eyes, she decided that it wouldn't hurt to go over her appeal just one more time...
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
"Miss Granger, I'm afraid that the review board is not willing to let you back into the Auror Squad at this stage."
With those words, Hermione's eyes closed briefly in pain at her defeat. She'd worked so hard...
"However," continued the Minister of Magic, "we feel that you have served your suspension well, and that you should remain within the Ministry of Magic. To that end, we feel that your talents could be used in a different field. It has been unanimously agreed that you should be assigned to the Potions Lab, as you are experienced in that area. Your position will be re-evaluated after 12 months after which we may decide to return you to Law Enforcement. If you find the new position unacceptable, you may of course, resign from the Ministry."
Hermione rubbed her throbbing temple furiously. One little breach of conduct after nothing less than exemplary service and she's not an Auror anymore. Harry and Ron would be so disappointed. Looking up finally she realised that Fudge and his cronies were waiting for her to say something. Drawing a deep breath she answered in as calm a manner as she could muster.
"Minister, I accept."
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
6 Months later
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
The figure, shrouded in robes, strode menacingly across the rough-edged rock that floored the cavern. The cowering woman, who lay sprawled across the ground, looked up beseechingly, pleading with her eyes to be spared.
Yet she knew.
She knew that there was no hope.
She knew that this was to be her end.
Under the dark shadow of the hood, her assailant smiled: A cold and sinister smile - and along with a regal raise of the wand, the words which could not be undone were uttered in a soft - but powerful - voice.
"Avada Kedavra"
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
"Another murder!" groaned Harry Potter as he read the latest owl mail from the Minister of Magic. Within the month, a total of four witches had been declared missing, only to turn up a few days later - as horribly disfigured corpses. Each of the women had been beauties: young, nubile and attractive, as was evident from the photographs that their weeping families had presented him with.
It was sometimes hard, he admitted to himself, to do the job he did. Working for the Ministry of Magic in the Magical Crimes Investigation Unit - a special branch of the Auror Squad - had exposed him to the harsher elements of human depravity. Lord Voldemort had not been the first, nor had he been the last wizard to cross over to the Dark side. Society had always had unpleasant pests on its back and it was Harry's - and Ron's - job to pour on the flea powder. Not for the first time, he wished that Hermione was still on the squad. She offered him a different perspective on motives and generally was the best partner to have in stressful conditions. Ron, brilliant Auror though he may be, tended to lose his head when the job became too gruesome or involved spiders. If only Hermione hadn't got herself suspended, she'd be helping him on this case.
He thought about the victims. They were all contestants in an upcoming competition - the "Witch Weekly's Annual Miss Charming Beauty Pageant. If any answers were to be found, it would be best to start there.
And that's when the plan struck him.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
"Fig tree bark? Why would he add fig tree bark?" muttered Hermione as she surveyed her junior assistant's list of potential ingredients for a project in process. From the corner of her eye she could see an owl waiting impatiently for her to acknowledge it. She continued to ignore it. The Potion Lab job, although accepted with resentment, had fast become Hermione's lifeline. As head of the Experimental Potions Division she'd poured all the excess energy that had been harbouring within her during her suspension into creating new concoctions and brews which could be used to heal, cure, harm or even destroy. It was a very time-consuming science which demanded patience and much concentration. She needed to record every hypothesis, formula, ingredient and step, as well as every success and failure. It was a job that, once started, had to be done with utmost devotion until the last phase of completion.
And when did Hermione Granger ever not devote herself completely to a project?
So when she read the note that the Ministry owl had just brought her, it would be understandable that she was not at all pleased.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Hermione tapped her fingers impatiently against the wooden arm of the chair on which she sat - or rather, slouched. It had been a long day of standing bent over couldrons in the Potion Lab and her back ached. It did not help her mood any, to be summoned like a house-elf who had nothing to do but hasten to Fudge's beck and call - and then be kept waiting for a full twenty minutes. Instead of of becoming one with the furniture outside the illustrious main office of the Ministry of Magic, she could have been using her time constructively. She was impatient to test out her theory that a concoction of dahlia juice , thistle and certain benthos from the Mediterranean Sea as well as certain other ingredients boiled in protean alcohol would result in a potion which would allow the drinker to...
"Miss Granger?"
Her train of thought broken, she looked up to see Cornelius Fudge's face appear from his doorway. After beckoning her inside, he invited her to sit with a single imperial gesture to a chair as he himself settled into his plush throne. Idly, Hermione noticed that his desk was large, wide and made of the highest quality wood. She also noticed that the work in his "In" tray overwhelmed the papers in the "Out" box by at least a ratio of 7:1.
Not being a man who faffed about - unless he had something important to say - he got straight to the point. "Well, Miss Granger. I'm about to make you a proposition. A proposition, which I hope that you won't refuse."
'Oh Merlin! So the rumours are true," thought Hermione frantically. There had been murmurs floating around that the reason so many witches had resigned from their high-class posts in the Ministry, was because Fudge had made them indecent proposals of raised salaries in return for clandestine...ahem...encounters.
It appeared that she, Hermione Granger, was the next intended victim of Fudge's overzealous appetite. Suddenly she was not quite so admiring of Fudge's very long, very wide and very strong desk.
"I'm not sleeping with you!" she blurted out, cringing even as the words left her mouth. She had the unfortunate gift of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time - as had been very well proved in her fifth year of Hogwarts when she had basically told the proudly independent centaurs of the Forbidden Forest that she had used them to get rid of "Professor" Umbridge. Not to mention that spending so much time with the Weasleys had affected the part of her brain that would normally deal with tact. Her mouth, as a result, often worked quite independently of her brain.
In horror, she watched Fudge blink in confusion, and as the full impact of her words struck him, a scarlet flush unfolded across his face like a red carpet at an important muggle celebrity event. Already, she could see her instant dismissal and any hope of re-joining the Aurors dashed.
Then he burst out laughing.
"Miss Granger," he chuckled heartily, "I do enjoy your sense of humor. It's not everyday that I hear such outrageous outbursts."
Hermione stared at him, trying to figure out where she stood exactly in the proceedings. So perhaps sex was not on the old gull's menu and it most certainly appeared that she wasn't the catch of the day either, thank Merlin.
'Insulted the Boss and didn't get fired', she thought, 'maybe this isn't such a lousy day after all.'
"Jokes aside," he continued in his annoying sing-song voice, "we must address a very serious matter. As I said, I have a proposition for you. I know that you have another 6 months before your next evaluation, but circumstances have come to pass which require your services. Mr Potter - whom, as of course you know, is head of the Magical Crimes Investigation Unit - has made a special request to the board to allow him to send you on a short-term undercover assignment. As the specifics indicate that we have no other qualified Auror who can do the job - unfortunately Nymphadora is away on maternity leave - the board has decided that you should be awarded the chance to redeem yourself. If you prove yourself capable, you will be immediately returned - with full honours - to your former post within the Auror Squad. You would not have to wait for a further six months for the board's decision."
Hermione could hardly believe her ears. They were giving her a second chance?
"Of course," Fudge continued in a sterner voice, "we have laid down conditions to which you must comply. Failure to do so will result in your absolute dismissal from Auror duty with no honours. Your position within the Ministry may even come under review, and we may decide not to keep you in the Potion Lab. Is that understood?"
"Yes Sir."
"Right. Let's discuss your case. Mr Potter has been working on an extremely disturbing investigation. Four witches have been killed in the last month." He handed her a file which consisted of photographs of the bodies. Hermione could see how the victims' faces had been grotesquely disfigured. She did not grimace. She glanced at pictures taken of the deceased before their untimely deaths. They had all been young, attractive women just reaching the zenith of their beauty. Paging through their biographies she noted that all had been registered contestants for the upcoming "Miss Charming" pageant. Hermione suddenly had a horrible inkling as to what her assignment would be.
"Mr Potter has decided that the best course of action would be to infiltrate the pageant - to have someone inside who can keep an eye out, report back information, etcetera. Ideally," he said peering skeptically at her, "someone who could pose as a contestant."
Hermione then knew that her worst fears were coming true.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
"The board is not eager to send you on a solo assignment - you understand why, of course. After your last debacle, the risk is too high. Hence we have decided to partner you with one of our deep-cover operatives. He'll essentially be your back-up and a surety for us that you don't foul up this time. You'll take orders from him and he will report back to us whether or not it's worth taking you back on the squad. Mr Potter had volunteered to do the job himself but it would be unwise for him to even attempt any undercover work. He is, after all the very famous "Boy-who-Lived". The agent that we have found for you comes with the highest of credentials. He is known to entrench himself completely in his roles. I have no doubt that you'd learn a thing or two from him."
Hermione gritted her teeth at the insinuation that she was a novice. She'd begun training as an Auror immediately after leaving school and in the four years since, she'd clocked more fieldtime than many more senior and so- called "experienced" dark-wizard catchers.
Fudge stood up from his cushioned recliner and strolled towards a door that Hermione had never noticed before. She realised that it was an entrance to a secret chamber that could only be visible to those that Fudge wanted to see it.
He placed his hand on the doorknob and gave it a slight turn to open it merely a crack - probably to alert the person on the other side - before turning back to face Hermione.
"I'd like you to meet your new partner..."
He swung open the door.
"...Mr Draco Malfoy."
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~