分卷阅读13（2 / 2）

And Hermione couldn’t honestly believe she felt such pure, unabashed joy at the small, innocuous smile that lingered on Mrs. Brambleboot’s lips, and the brightness that filled her eyes when she saw Rogers blush.

She managed to tame her giddiness by the time Ron returned home from work, only to be swept up in something else entirely. She suddenly noticed the little gestures he did for her, subtle touches of tenderness and care. The way his finger wrapped around one of her curls when he bent over to hand her a cup of tea. The towel left folded over the tub for her when she went upstairs to take her bath. And when she went to bed, she leaned over, and waited as Ron put down the morning’s Prophet to grasp her face. The moment their lips met she burned with the spark of something a thousand times greater than what she’d felt that afternoon watching her matches fall in love.

Eventually, she was able to quiet her drive to match people together. But over the course of the next month, it would flair up at random times and draw her in. So much so, that she’d dream about the couples whose potential she saw. That’s when she took the Potion for Dreamless Sleep and ended up sleep walking into to the Brightlawn Commons in her night dress, searching out the seamstress and the junior auror who had made eyes at her.

Hermione felt imprisoned by the curse, hostage to its drive to bring love to those who otherwise were without. She debated with herself over the very nature of the curse, if its inherent power lessened the ability of those involved to consent to conditions. But it wasn’t as if she was going around dosing people with Amortentia. She could merely see things they couldn’t and rallied for their happiness by trying to enlighten them. But was love truly the biggest gift she could give? Was it really love’s potential she saw between two individuals or merely the peak of passion woven with some complex idea of compatibility? What of knowledge, and history, and proven actions? What did Eros really know?

She looked back up from behind the book and watched as Malfoy laid a comforting hand on Parkinson’s. Eros hasn’t been wrong before, Hermione rationalized. Her dreams had led her here, and part of her questioned it, but the heart of her knew it was real. She’d found one half of her next match.

Now, she just needed to find Harry.

“Sableton, we have a development.”

Icarus chanced a glance at his partner with little hope that what would follow might not test what was left of his patience. But to his surprise, McLaggen was blushing. “What?”

He turned away from Malfoy and the woman at the bar and followed McLaggen’s line of sight. From where they had perched in the kitchen, they had a good view of most of the lounge out the order-up window. It had been an odd experience watching Malfoy embrace the raven haired woman and then proceed to comfort her. McLaggen indicated that he’d recognized her as Pansy Parkinson. It appeared now as if McLaggen had recognised someone else.

Icarus squinted and tried to get a better view of the woman in question. She wore a black beanie over most of her head and sat hunched behind a large, green book. “Is that—”

McLaggen breathed, “Hermione Granger.”

A sudden ruckus in the kitchen stole their attention, and Icarus turned in time to see Draco Malfoy draw his wand and aim it at them.

“I know you’ve been following me, and I’m getting dreadfully tired of repeating myself; you are wasting your time.” Malfoy scowled.

Icarus stepped forward, hands raised, and replied, “This isn’t up to you.”

“What?” Malfoy dropped his wand arm back to his side and casually put his other hand on his hip. “They think I’m dangerous, do they?”

“No one said that, Malfoy,” Icarus said, just as McLaggen chimed, “Yes.” Icarus turned to the other ops man and glared. McLaggen shrugged. “We don’t understand what exactly is going on with you,” Icarus clarified. And he knew Malfoy understood, so why was he angry?

“As opposed to what is afflicting Santi, Tresden, Larson, or Granger?”

“Malfoy—”

The man crossed his arms and looked almost petulant. “Larson’s affliction, now tell me, do you have an ops-team following him around or are you just letting him run wild like Tresden?”