A/N: Hey, guys! Sorry for the long absence. Just got swamped with...life. Special thanks to @KUROH1ME, @krishnalover96, and @TheSaltyDuchess for sticking with the story, the comments, and votes. You guys rock!!! Hope you all like this one.
*************************
The days had turned into a full month and yet they were nowhere near to uncovering who was behind the murder of Luli and the attempt on Draco's life. Today found the Malfoy heir lounging in the library, sitting across Hermione as she did more research, pretending to act nonchalant about the tardiness of the five house elves he had sent out to spy on their former masters. All of the Manor elves, except for Tinder, Fifi, and Mimsy, had been hired by his mother after their actual owners passed away. The heirs of the Houses they served, balking at the passage of the new Magical Creatures Employment Laws, had chosen to free them instead of abiding by what they deemed to be a travesty to Pureblood traditions. Every one of them had also been personally recommended by Tinder, so Draco was sure that the five 'spies' could all be trusted with their delicate assignments. He just hoped that the absence of the five he'd sent out was not because they had put themselves in harm's way. House elves were known for doing heroic acts to please their masters, just as Tinder had done when he single-handedly hunted down the asp that had bitten Hermione.
The old, gruff elf's devotion to her still baffled Draco at times, but he was grateful for it. Life in the Manor would've been much harder had the old elf not taken an instantaneous liking to the former Gryffindor. Freed house elves weren't as docile as those who were still bound to their Houses, especially not those with Tinder's temperament. He could easily make life miserable for Draco if he wanted to. Fortunately, Tinder's sense of loyalty was as impeccable as ever, in spite of his newly acquired freedom from eternal bondage. Draco doubted if he would've survived his self-imposed exile had Tinder not been there.
Speaking of which, he wondered where that imperious creature had gone to. He hadn't seen him since breakfast and it was almost dinner time.
Turning to Hermione, who had her head buried in a large, ancient tome, he asked, "Did you send Tinder out on an errand?" Whenever Hermione needed anything from the village, Tinder took joy in attending to the matter personally.
"Uhm...no, why?" she replied without taking her eyes off the book.
Draco rolled his eyes but chuckled inside. Typical Granger.
"I haven't seen him since morning. It's not like him to just delegate everything to his staff. He's a control freak," he said, craning his neck to take a peek at what had got her so engrossed.
"Why don't you ask Mimsy? He always leaves instructions with her when he goes out," Hermione said, scribbling on her journal.
Now, why didn't I think of that? He thought with a shake of his head, impressed at how fast Hermione had familiarized herself with the inner workings of his household when he himself still had difficulty remembering all of his house elves' names.
"Mimsy?" he called.
The summoned elf appeared beside him with a loud pop.
"You called, Master?"
"Where's Tinder?"
"T-Tinder...s-sir?" Mimsy stammered, twisting the hem of her pink, striped apron.
"Yes. Did he leave the Manor?"
Mimsy gaped up at him with wide eyes, the color draining from her wrinkled face. Draco sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He could tell that the elf was scared, but he couldn't dismiss her like he usually did when she got that way. Not this time.
"Mimsy, please tell me where Tinder is," he said, as gently as he could. "I'll tell him that I forced you to talk to me. You don't have to be afraid that he'll reprimand you, okay?"
Mimsy nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. "Tinder looking for Koopy, Snag, Tookey, Tork, and Gimp. He is saying they's need to come home. Now!"
"What? Why didn't he tell me first?" Draco regretted the sharpness of his tone when he saw Mimsy cower before him, her fingers frantically twisting her apron. "It's okay, Mimsy. I'm not angry. I'm just...concerned. As soon as Tinder gets back, tell him that I'd like a word, okay? You may go back to...well...whatever you were doing. Thanks, Mimsy."
Mimsy curtsied and disapparated with another loud pop.
When he looked up, he saw Hermione looking at him with worried eyes.
"I'm sure he's okay. That old coot is more resourceful than he appears. He'll be back here in no time," Draco said, not just to reassure Hermione, but himself as well.
Hermione nodded and gave him a small smile before returning to what she was doing. Now, Draco was intrigued. Hermione was not one to just let go of a subject, especially when it involved house elves. He rose to his feet and walked over to the other side of the mahogany table where several large tomes were spread out in front of her.
"What's that you're reading? And what are all these notes?" he picked up a piece of parchment and read what she had written. Runes.
"Remember that diary we found? The one about the young bride - M. B. Malfoy? I think we should take another look at it," she said, grabbing a few of her notes. "Based on these accounts, it appears that the first Malfoy bride to have really resided here in the Manor was a Madeleine Beaufonte. She was married to the heir of House Malfoy, Alphonse, in the spring of 1560. Look at this," she said, turning the book around toward him. "It says that at first, what everyone called Malfoy Manor actually consisted of three separate structures - the main house, servants quarters, and the kitchens. Apparently, the main house, where the couple first took residence, burned down in 1561, a year after they were married. Construction on the new, bigger, and sturdier Manor began right after. It doesn't say here when it was finished...but," she gasped, her hand going to her mouth to cover it.
"...Another fire broke out in 1565, killing Madeleine," Draco finished for her, reading from the ancient tome. An uneasy feeling washed over him. He could've died the same way. Hermione pulled the book back to her and continued reading.
"It seems that they were a tragic couple," Hermione said, her finger tracing the words as she continued reading. "Alphonse died the next year due to unknown reasons, leaving behind his three-year-old son and heir, Aloysius, in the care of Alphonse's younger sister, Delphine, who later married a Cepheus Fawley. Mr. Fawley obviously didn't think the Manor was safe because he took his wife and the young heir to an undisclosed location. It was only in 1568 that Aloysius returned to the Manor, together with his own young bride, Helene," Hermione paused, her eyes swiftly scanning the words on the next couple of pages. After several turns, her fingers stopped on a line that clearly captured her interest. "There were no fires reported until 1661, where another Malfoy bride almost died, a certain Elethea Edwardson married to Alcaeus Abraxas Malfoy in the spring of 1660," she paused again, scanning and turning pages. "That's all. Nothing more was said about them. I have a feeling that the rest of their history was removed. See there?" she pointed to a jagged piece of parchment sticking out at the bottom of the tome. "It looks like a page was torn out," she said, carefully closing the book.
"An attempt to hide something, perhaps? What's that you're reading anyway?" Draco asked, pulling the tome toward him. There was no title engraved on its cover, but the spine read: House Malfoy 1500-1700. Their family must've had several historians in their employ, he thought as he scanned the pages for himself. Pureblood families meticulously recorded their own history for posterity, a family historian wasn't such a far-fetched idea. He never did give these ancient tomes a second glance before, not really that interested in his ancient lineage. He couldn't believe how far back the Malfoy name went. Catching sight of another tome - 1700-1900, he deftly yanked it from Hermione's stack and flipped through it.
"I've already read that one. No records of any fire," she said, slamming back against the chair, her brows knitted in a thoughtful frown. "I did notice something, though. There were a couple of names...blocked out," she chuckled, "Scratched out, rather furiously, actually."
Indeed, she was right. As he flipped through the pages, he saw that there were in truth more than just a couple of blocked-out names - 15th of August in the year 1715, Antoine Malfoy, at the age of 25, took to wife, (scratched out), daughter of (scratched out) and (scratched out), from the town of Tolpuddle...27th of March in the year 1785...30th of December in the year 1835...14th of May in the year 1895.
All of the entries in the tome started with a marriage between a Malfoy heir and their bride and followed by a brief narration regarding the couples' offsprings, their contribution to the Malfoy fortune (lands purchased, gold acquired, business ventures/partnerships), issues and/or problems encountered in running their growing empire and such. They all ended with the dates of the deaths of the couples. But for those entries with blocked out names, some of the details were also erased.
"Someone's trying to cover up something, don't you think?" Hermione asked. Draco couldn't agree more.
"Someone wants to keep certain things about House Malfoy secret. My father never really talked about our ancestors. He probably never even opened any of these." He's always suspected that there were 'undisclosed facts' in his family's public version of Malfoy history.
"Hmmm...you know...I think I remember seeing a few diaries at the back," Hermione said, jumping to her feet and running towards the far end of the library. When she came back, she was holding a small but thick leather-bound book in her hand. "I saw this the first time that I came here to research about the curse. The others were written in French, just like the one with the M.B. Malfoy initials, but this one's written in English. I didn't think it was important back then so I didn't take it out. But when I came across the name Elethea Edwardson, this got me into thinking. Look at this here," she said, flipping the cover open, her finger going to the dedication on the very first page:
'My dearest Elie,
As you begin your married life today, I pray that you find joy and love with your husband. Your father had this made especially for you to keep your thoughts in so you will never lose sight of who you are. We are always here for you, my dearest daughter. You will always be in our hearts.
Forever,
Your loving mother'
"I have a feeling that this is Elethea Edwardson's diary," Hermione said, turning the fragile pages carefully. "I'll take this with me. Maybe this could shed some light on what happened during their time here at the Manor. There are only two records of a fire breaking out in the Manor - the last one was when Elethea was in residence."
"Okay, see if you can get a glimpse of her time here. Where's the other diary, the one with M.B. Malfoy engraved on it? I can take a look at that if you want."
"You know how to read French?" Hermione asked, smirking.
Draco chuckled. "Oui, ma chѐre Hermione. As you probably have gathered by now, the Malfoys originally came from France. Therefore, French is a second language to us. German is a close third and Italian...well...only when I need to pick-up Italian girls," he said the last with a snort. Blaise would hex him if he told him that.
"Well, well, well. It seems that you're quite the linguist, Malfoy," she laughed.
He chuckled and said, "If you only know how often I got punished for running away from my tutors. The only time that I was able to appreciate my extra lessons was when we were traveling. It made it easier to meet...well...girls."
Hermione rolled her eyes at him, a slight frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. Draco's heart fluttered at her apparent chagrin.
Is she jealous?
She's irritated at your inanity, stupid, not due to anything else.
Oh, shut up! Can't a bloke dream?
Well, then, dream on, fool! Because the great Hermione Granger will never see you as anything more than the annoying git who tormented her for-
SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!
Without meaning to, his hand slammed on the table with a deafening bang making Hermione jump and eye him warily.
"What was that about?" she snapped at him, her eyes flashing dangerously.
Draco gave out a loud sigh and moved away from the table, returning to his previous seat. "I apologize, Granger. I was...I just...I just remembered something...awful." He couldn't tell her that he was arguing with himself now, could he?
She still eyed him with suspicion, but at least she didn't comment on it further, choosing instead to return her attention to the diary of the Malfoy bride named Elie.
"I put M.B. Malfoy's diary over there if you want to read it," she said, nodding at the stack of books piled on top of the small writing desk set flush against the wall to his far right.
He noticed that she was deliberately avoiding his eyes. Cursing silently, he walked to the desk and searched for the diary. Upon locating it, he returned to his chair and started reading, eager to find anything that could help them understand the magic surrounding the Manor. He just wished that he'd be able to sift through all the gushiness. M.B. Malfoy (Madeleine?) seemed pretty much in love with her husband. He was actually surprised by that. Pureblood marriages were always arranged. At least, that's what he knew about the Malfoy line, including his parents'. And his parents' parents...and their...well, hell, everyone he knew! A few pages in and he found himself inadvertently enjoying (horrors!) Madeleine's (he's now sure that M. B. Malfoy is Madeleine Beaufonte) sweet sentimentality. Who knows? He might get some tips on how to approach a prickly creature such as Granger.
Wait! Where did that come from? Are you seriously planning on wooing the best friend of your archenemy, the Chosen One of the Wizarding World, the righteous St. Pothead? You must be completely mental!
SHUT UP!
Draco took a deep breath before returning to the tales of Madeleine Beaufonte. He was just getting to the juicy part - her thoughts on her wedding night - when a loud pop beside him almost made him jump (guilty?).
"M-master Draco..." Mimsy stammered, wringing the hem of her apron.
"What is it, Mimsy?" Draco asked, a cold chill running down his spine when he saw Mimsy's eyes brimming with unshed tears. Not a good sign.
"What happened, Mimsy?" Hermione was now standing beside him, her hand absently clutching his shoulder in apparent dread.
Draco almost flinched at the contact. Not because he didn't like it, but because he was jolted by the unexpected pleasure that coursed through his body. And he really shouldn't be feeling that way, considering that Mimsy appeared to be on the verge of tears.
"I-it's...Tinder is back, Master. They is all back," she said before crumpling down on the floor, wailing unabashedly.
Hermione was beside Mimsy in a flash, rubbing the crying elf's back and whispering consoling words. "Shh...it's okay, Mimsy. Tell us what happened. Everything's going to be just fine, you'll see," she crooned.
That seemed to work because the elf's caterwauling slowly wound down to soft sniffles.
"Where's Tinder, Mimsy," Draco asked softly, careful not to upset the elf.
Mimsy looked up at Hermione, as if asking for permission, which she appeared to give immediately with a nod. Had Mimsy, who had been in the Malfoy family even before Draco was born, shown that kind of respect for someone other than Hermione, he would've been furious. Instead, his heart swelled at how the former Gryffindor had earned his house-elves' loyalty and affection in such a short time. He'd rather not think about why he felt that way. Not now, anyway. There were more important matters to attend to than his convoluted emotions for his former enemy.
"They's all at the kitchens, Master," Mimsy said, nodding vigorously as she got up to her feet with the help of Hermione.
"Go on ahead, Mimsy. Tell Tinder that we'll be there shortly," Draco said, extending his arm to Hermione to indicate that he wanted her to apparate with him. He could've let her go with Mimsy, but he couldn't pass up another chance to have her close.
In spite of the seriousness of the situation? his annoying inner voice nagged, turning his earlier words against him. Choosing to ignore (and irritate) his infuriating 'conscience', he placed his hand over the one Hermione laid on his arm like she'd been doing it her entire life.
Paying no mind to the (now becoming common) frantic beating of his heart, Draco closed his eyes and apparated them into the kitchens where all his unwholesome thoughts were quickly overtaken by the outrage that bloomed inside him at the sight that greeted them. Lying on the cold, marble floor were his five 'spies', their bodies stiff and staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, their mouths twisted in various impressions of fright or anger.
"Oh, Merlin!" cried Hermione as she walked towards the elves.
Draco's attention, however, shifted to the lone elf who was banging his head against the hard, wooden trestle table near the far end of the room. Tinder was punishing himself. Severely.
"Tinder! Stop it!" he bellowed, limping as fast as he could towards the old elf. He grabbed Tinder's shoulders and pulled him away from the table. Draco had to pull the small, struggling body flush against his to prevent Tinder from inflicting further harm on his own person. "Enough, Tinder! I forbid you from punishing yourself!" he growled, clamping both hands on the elf's shoulders. He knew that he no longer had to power to impose his will on a freed elf, but he hoped that those words would at least get through the fog in Tinder's mind. When the old elf stopped squirming against his hold, Draco breathed a sigh of relief.
"I's kilt them! I's kilt them!" Tinder howled, pulling mercilessly at the sparse hair on his head. "I's kilt them...I's kilt them..." he sobbed as he slumped against the chair that Draco had made him sit on.
"No, you did not, Tinder," Hermione said, turning her head towards them.
"What do you mean?" Draco asked, hoping that Hermione wasn't just saying those words to console the elf that she had learned to care for.
"They're not dead, Draco. They've been petrified," she replied.
"They's not dead?" Tinder sniffed, his face brightening with hope.
Hermione smiled and nodded. "They're alive, Tinder. And we can bring them back."
"Petrified? As in like the Muggle-borns during our second year at Hogwarts?" He regretted his words the moment he realized that Hermione was one of those Muggle-borns. Fortunately, she didn't seem to take offense. Hermione just nodded at him absently, her brows knitted in thought. Draco had an inkling about what she was thinking. Only two things could cause petrification - a Gorgon and a Basilisk. And as far as he knew, they were both rare and practically extinct. There's also never been any report of a Gorgon residing in England and the last known Basilisk allegedly had been destroyed by St. Pothead when he was but a twelve-year-old boy. Could someone be breeding Basilisks again?
"It fits the pattern, doesn't it? The snake venom, the asp...and now...this. A Gorgon has snakes for hair while a Basilisk is known as the King of Snakes," she said, turning back to him with wide eyes, her face as white as sheet. "They're all connected."
Draco nodded in agreement, having arrived at the same conclusion.
"Tinder, where did you find them?" Draco asked, his heart clenching with dread.
"Zabini Mansion. Tinder is finding them all at Zabini Mansion," the old elf replied.
If blood could freeze while still coursing through one's body, that's what would've happened to Draco's. He flinched at the physical pain that the implied betrayal caused. Blaize Zabini had been his friend even before he stepped foot at Hogwarts. What could he have done that was so terrible to deserve such treachery from Blaise? He was still trying to come to terms with what appeared to be solid proof of his (former) friend's crimes when he felt a short, sharp tug at his robes. Looking down, he saw that Tinder was now standing before him, his sorrowful eyes conveying more than words could.
"Master Blaise...gone..." Tinder said.
A chill slithered down Draco's spine.
"What do you mean 'gone'? Blaise is not at the mansion?"
Tinder shook his head. "Dead. Master Blaise dead. They's all dead."
This time, Draco really did feel his blood freeze.
***************
A/N: Comment and vote, please?