He couldn't understand why the head of the company was tasked to do this menial job. All Theodore Nott wished for today was to stick inside his office for the whole day, swivelling around his revolving chair, while pretending to be the busy Head of Nott Incorporation he was supposed to be.
But no.
Simply put, there was some mishap with the currently being renovated Nott library. Some house-elf had gone insane and set off numerous spells that painted the whole room a sickly green that no amount of magic could undo. Some team of experts had inspected the mess and all concluded that the most logical thing to do was to paint everything the Muggle way.
Seeing that the Mistress Nott was currently indisposed (of wasting away the Nott riches in some unknown country), Theo knew that as the Head of Nott, the task was bestowed upon him. Also, knowing his stepmother, he wouldn't hear the end of it if he merely opted to buy some bloody paint from some store and painted the whole damn wall by himself.
Thus, Theo currently found himself strolling inside a building promising to offer the best interior designers of Muggle London. He scowled at the bustling atrium, numerous Muggles chatting away in their cellphones. He had to admit, though, that the atrium was stylishly design, but he was too annoyed with his misfortunes to appreciate everything.
Instead, he strode towards the front desk. Behind it was an old lady, one that was reminiscent of his Nana, who used to chase after him with a long stick at hand, and felt instantly nervous.
"Pardon me," he excused, then nervously clearing his throat.
"Do you have an appointment?" she answered in a monotone without bothering to look up from her trashy, romance pocketbook.
"Yes, I believe I am to see Mister Sanders today?"
She perked up at the name with mild interest in her eyes. "I see," she said, briefly skimming the clipboard on her desk. "Mister Ted Knight?"
"Yes, that's me," he replied.
"I apologize, sir, but Mister Sanders is currently on vacation leave," she explained. "However, he entrusted me to present to you the next best interior designer for your lovely home."
Theo frowned. Andrew Sanders had already known about his secret, and it made him a little queasy that another person in this building knew of his magical abilities. "He didn't tell me," he said, clearly annoyed.
The receptionist clucked at the tone of his voice, prompting him to flinch. "If you must know, Mister Knight, Miss Hartness is one of the best in this company."
His eyes widened at the name. "Who?" he demanded.
Before the old lady could answer her, a blonde head peeked from one of the doors, a huge smile on her face. "Amy!" she cried. "I finally finished decorating the tea room. Come check and see if it's pretty."
"Bless your heart, child," the old receptionist fondly said. "Of course anything you do is pretty. Also, your client is here."
Her eyes finally settled on the strangely silent Theo and it made him marginally comforted to see that Luna Lovegood, too, was caught off guard with his presence.
"Blast it all," she lightly cursed, her body finally materializing as she strolled out. "I was hoping 'Ted Knight' was just a surprising coincidence."
"You two know each other?" the receptionist, Amy, asked.
"Yes", Theo replied at the same time Luna replied, "Barely." He quirked an eyebrow at her reply.
"Perhaps some tea for you dearies?" she asked, eyeing them with slight suspicion in her eyes.
"That would be lovely, Amy, thank you," Luna said, her wide, glazed blue eyes still staring at him. "We'll be in my office."
Theo felt a smirk slowly creeping onto his face, prompting Luna to look wholly unamused.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her face impassive.
"Like what Amy said, I'm your new client," Theo said, his smirk now full-blown on his face. "Terrible luck now, yeah? Though, I'm surprised to see that you are an interior designer now. I've always wondered what you were doing here in the Muggle world."
He mentally slapped himself with an implication that he was even thinking about her. He refused to waver, however, at how her eyes lightly narrowed at his statement. She was silent for ages, and he took that opportunity to survey with amusement at her strange ensemble today. She was once again sporting a denim overall with a white shirt underneath, or what was left from it, really, seeing that there were impossible splotches of paint scattered around it. She was sporting cork earrings today, and he unconsciously mused Rose would have loved it, too.
Luna finally sighed and silently gestured for him to follow her. They zigzagged through the quaint company; Theo marveled at how different corridors sported different themes of color and motif. He now understood why this company was one of the best interior designers in Muggle London.
They finally arrived in front of a bright yellow door. Luna must have caught him looking at it with amusement, for she said, "I happen to like yellow."
Theo grinned this time, remembering the ridiculous yellow socks she used to love to wear back in Hogwarts. "Of course," he merely said.
Luna gave him a look once more, before releasing a soft sigh and shaking her head. Theo then noticed there were actual glitters on her hair, perhaps from one of her painting escapades, and found himself a little mesmerized at how her hair sparkled, glitters and light and all.
He slightly shook his head when Luna finally opened the door and ushered him inside. His eyes widened at how blue her walls were, with painted sunflowers atop a sea of green grass. Near her desk was a huge tree, with small, pink flowers, and Theo swore the leaves were lightly swaying.
Her room was bright and happy and very much like her. He liked it.
"Please have a seat," Luna said, gesturing at the chair opposite her desk. She had already settled on her chair, managing to rustle some of the leaves from her tree.
"Okay, but I think you've bewitched that painted tree," he lightly accused, prompting her to blush.
"I... tweaked it a bit, yes," she confessed, unable to look in his eyes. "Muggles do not notice unless they look very hard."
He quirked an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't want to use magic anymore?" he asked. He didn't mean it to sound too accusatory, but Luna slightly flinched from his words, her eyes hardening a little.
"I try not to use it as much as possible," she deadpanned, and Theo had to mentally slap himself once more. He truly was an idiot every time he was in the presence of Luna Lovegood. It was already too disconcerting.
"Right, of course," he said as he finally settled on the chair.
Thankfully, Amy took that time to bring in their tea, complete with some scones to snack with.
"Thank you, Amy," Luna said, her features now softening as she smiled at the old receptionist.
"I'll be at my desk if you need me, Selena," the old lady smiled before disappearing from the room.
Luna allowed him to take a few sips from his tea before finally pulling out a folder from her small pile. "Andrew told me you need some renovating in your library, yes?" she asked, sounding too business-y and professional.
"Yes," he said with a nod. "No offense, but I'm surprised you agreed to work in a wizard home."
The blonde sighed and flipped through her documents. "Andrew accidentally discovered I'm a witch a few months ago and thought it would be good for the business if we expanded to other clients. Else, he'd expose me to the company and not everybody thinks like him." She crinkled her nose a bit and frowned. "Think of pitchforks and pyres, but with a modern twist."
"That's blackmail!" he exclaimed, aghast.
"It's business," she corrected with a serene smile. "Besides, his office is infested with umgubular slahskilters. I don't want to provoke him."
He scrunched up his nose at another of her make-believe creatures, but didn't comment about it. Instead, he said, "I trust you've reviewed my documents already so you know that the library cannot be painted the magical way."
"Yes, some house-elf mishap," she said, frowning a little. "Poor creature. You must have driven him insane."
Theo was affronted with her offhanded accusation, but then he remembered it was his stepmother's fault Blimpy had lost control and just exploded, with innards and blood spraying everywhere. It was a horrifying sight and some of the little house-elves working in the Manor had nightmares about it.
"I can start working next week, but I'm afraid I'll only be able to work on Wednesdays and Fridays," she said, briefly checking on the calendar on her desk. "It may be done a month or so. It depends." She sifted through the papers again, then frowned. "You want the ceiling to be painted black? Isn't it too dark for a library?"
"Tradition," Theo sighed. "We Notts value intelligence, so the library is one of the most important parts in the house. Symbolism is everything."
Luna slowly nodded her head. "Nott. Night," she said with a small smile. "I still think it's terribly dark for a library."
"You can tweak it with whatever the hell you want," he said with a sigh. "I just want this damn library to be finished before another house-elf becomes insane."
She was looking at him with amusement when he added, "You might need some help. Obviously you can't hire other Muggles to help you, and my stepmother would have an aneurysm if I hired more strangers to decorate her library. I can ask some of my house-elves to assist you as you paint."
"Oh, don't bother," she hastily said. "I've painted libraries alone before and I'd be done even before this month ends."
He casually lifted an eyebrow at her confidence.
"Well, have you seen our library?"
__________
"Zabini dropped by in my office a while ago and what the fuck, Draco?"
"And hello to you too, Theo," Draco drawled without lifting his eyes to look at his best friend.
Theo snarled and snatched the paper off Draco's hands, prompting the blond to sigh and warily glance at him. "I'm assuming you already heard the news from him?" he slowly inquired.
"More like sang the news, that bastard," he replied, plopping on one of the couches in Draco's study. "What the hell are you thinking, Draco? I get that you're bored with all this head of house nonsense. Blimey, I'm not even judging you for wanting to apply to that crappy department in the ministry! What I do not understand is why you're asking Zabini, of all people, to be the proxy head to your company while you exchange pleasantries with old geezers."
Draco gave him a withering look. "I get that he's a bastard and all" – "Damn right he is!" – "But, you can't deny that he's good with business, Theo. Besides, he knew not to double-cross me. I know things that could land him to Azkaban."
Unlike him and Theo, Blaise was a Voldemort supporter through and through. His only saving grace was that he was badly injured prior to the War so he couldn't participate. But oh, if people knew what Blaise Zabini did during their Hogwarts years. Even thinking about it made his skin crawl.
"But Zabini? Really?" Theo whined. "I could have suggested you some other people like... like Pansy's brother or... or Goyle!"
The blond scrunched his nose in disgust. "I'd rather not go bankrupt even before I start working in the ministry," he pointed out.
His best friend sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Fine," he said with firm seriousness on his face. "I know you're cautious and all, but I just want to say it nonetheless. Be careful around, Zabini. You know how much he worshipped Voldemort and his sick ideologies. He's bad news."
It had worried him, of course, but after a lot of pondering, Draco could not think of any other candidates who would perfectly handle the pressure of heading the Malfoy business. "I've given him a piece of my mind, don't worry," he smirked, recalling the fear that flashed in Blaise's eyes when he threatened him with a lot of unimaginable things.
Theo still looked wholly unconvinced, but of course he couldn't do anything about it anymore. Instead, he asked, "When would your interview be, anyway?"
"Tomorrow," the blond replied, eyes growing stony with worry. It was good that Theo chose today to drop by. He needed the distraction from the crippling anxiety he was having for tomorrow's interview.
"I would like to say good luck, but I still could not picture you working in the ministry," Nott shot back with a smirk. "I'm sure you've heard a lot of things about the Department Head of DIMC."
Oh, he'd heard a lot of things about Henrik McLaggen all right, but he'd rather not think about his potential boss today.
"Anyway, I got to go," Theo said as he finally stood up from the couch. "I still have some library painting to foresee."
Draco looked confused. "Your library?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. "I didn't know you're bothering yourself over renovation matters now."
He was surprised and highly suspicious when Theo's cheeks darkened a little. "None of your bloody business," he muttered under his breath, prompting his other eyebrow to lift in surprise. Theo proceeded to stride out of his office, mumbling about 'nosy ferrets' and 'stupid best friends' under his breath.
He didn't dwell too much about Theo's strange behavior as soon as his best friend was gone. Draco had other matters to worry about.
__________
Tippy had tears in his eyes while helping Draco dress for his interview. It was wholly uncomfortable, but Draco felt strangely moved that his house-elf was half-proud, half-devastated that he was starting to pursue his dreams. He had been blubbering about how he wouldn't be able to attend to him too much since Master Draco would be too busy with the ministry and the likes.
"Late Master Lucius would be very mad," Tippy bemoaned, big, fat tears rolling down from his eyes. "Very, very mad."
Perhaps, that was the best thing that Tippy had told him ever since he started getting ready for his interview. He had numerous doubts, all right. He hadn't slept a wink last night, millions of scenarios running through his head, and Draco had felt sick ever since Theo left. But if joining the Department of International Magical Cooperation would make Lucius Malfoy mad, then Draco knew it was the right thing to do.
"It's not as if you won't be seeing me anymore, Tippy," Draco assured, fixing the collar of his wizard robes. "I trust you'll still manage my household and give me updates about my mother from time to time."
Tippy was passionately nodding his head, prompting Draco to smile a little. "Master Draco needs not worry, sir. Tippy will handle everything."
"All right then," Draco said, as he smoothed out his wizard robes for the last time. "Wish me luck."
"Oh, the stars would" –
"Never mind," Draco hastily cut him off from a possible passionately declaration, a grimace on his face. "I'll be back for dinner, Tippy. For now, you're free to do whatever you want."
Tippy looked honestly lost with his command. In the end, after haphazardly wiping his tear-stained face, he bowed low before disappearing with a pop.
Draco took a deep breath, checked his wand in his holster, before also disapparating.
__________
He honestly forgot when the last time he actually waited in line for a very long time was. As part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, practically a Wizarding Royalty, Draco had been privileged to always be attended to first. Of course that privilege was stripped off of him after the war had ended, but Draco hadn't really been a fan of going out. Lining up to meet and greet Brevis Birch with Rose and Theo was the only exception.
"Mister... Malfoy?"
Breathless gasps resounded in the waiting room as all eyes settled on him. He knew that some of them had already been eyeing him suspiciously, and to finally confirm that he was the Draco Malfoy, they were all unabashedly ogling at him.
He hated it.
He gave them all a dark glare when he stood up and approached a nervous, twitchy, mousy-haired man that looked like he was a fresh graduate. Twitchy, as what he decided to call him, paled when Draco finally reached him and had merely stared at him a full minute before snapping back to reality.
"Right, this way, s-sir," he said, tucking the clipboard under his armpit and ushering Draco into a small, stuffy room that smelled strangely of garlic and rose. It was nauseating, especially because the smells had clashed. Judging from the reaction from Twitchy, Draco figured this wasn't an uncommon occurrence.
"Draco Malfoy," the man behind the desk greeted. "Please have a seat."
He was a bloated, hairy man. His beard almost covered the lower half of his face and if it weren't from his unsettling grin, Draco would have sworn he didn't have a mouth.
Without being told twice, he lowered himself on the uncomfortable, wooden chair in front of his potential boss. Beardy, who went by the name Henrik McLaggen, laced his pudgy fingers and leaned closer to the blond. "Pardon me for saying this, but I am surprised a rich heir like you would opt to demote himself and work in the dingy ministry," he muttered, the unsettling grin still plastered on his face.
He sat straighter on his chair. "I just wish to pursue some of my other interests, Bea – Mister McLaggen, sir," he said, cheeks warming a little from his almost slip. He seriously, seriously need to stop himself from putting nicknames on people he had merely met for the first time.
"Ah," he uttered back, now leaning back on his chair. "Tell me something about yourself, besides, of course, your interesting past." He pointedly shot a look at his covered Dark Mark and Draco had this inexplicable desire to cover it further with his right hand.
He noisily cleared his throat until McLaggen's eyes settled onto him once more. "I work very well under pressure," he said, subsequently biting his tongue to stop himself from adding 'of course', memories of the Vanishing Cabinet and Dumbledore's murder resurfacing in his mind. "I pride myself with my intelligence, seeing that I was second in my class."
"Only second?"
This time, Draco allowed himself to slip a small smile on his face. "Nobody could beat Hermione Granger," he replied.
"Ah, of course, Miss Granger," he parroted, a strange glint in his eyes. "I heard you are now an acquaintance of hers? And Harry Potter's? Interesting choice of acquaintanceship on their part, seeing how your views had clashed in the previous war."
He tried his very best not to retort that their views had been one and the same, only his came in too late. But he knew that this condescending man took offense too quickly, and had to settle himself in answering instead, "I am well acquainted with them, yes."
"Due to missions during the war," McLaggen supplemented. "As an Order member despite being an Ex-Death Eater."
"Yes," he grounded out, annoyed that he was bringing out his past. But then again, Draco should have expected this.
Beardy McLaggen made a noncommittal sound at the back of his throat and rested a pudgy hand on his swollen belly. "Do you still have other interests, Mister Malfoy?" he nonchalantly asked. "Interests that might... compromise my department?"
"If you meant to ask if I still have interests in the Dark Arts, then no, sir, I do not," he snarled back, unable to control his annoyance anymore. Well, he was interested in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but he wasn't ready to answer him yet in case McLaggen asked why he didn't apply in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement instead. To hell with being accepted, honestly! Draco had this sudden urge to shoot out from his chair and storm out from this bloody, smelly room.
If it were possible, McLaggen's grin widened. It was strangely reminiscent of Cormac McLaggen's, and he suddenly remembered he did not like his nephew one bit.
"It is interesting how you thought about the Dark Arts first, Mister Malfoy," the older wizard replied, sounding too triumphant for his own good. Draco's wand hand twitched in suppressed annoyance. "I had to, of course, assure the whole department that you do not have, as you've stated, any interests in practicing the Dark Arts anymore. The team would have loved to hear that, wouldn't they?"
"Of course, sir," he said through gritted teeth.
McLaggen then waved off his hand in dismissal. "That's all," he said. "A ministry owl will be sent to you next week to deliver the news of your acceptance. If you get accepted, that is."
He stiffly shot up from his chair and gave the slightest nod before swiveling around and stomping out of McLaggen's room. Twitchy the fresh graduate gave a small squeak when Draco glared at him, but the blond didn't take notice. He ignored the curious, interested looks the other aspirants shot him, wanting to be away from the ministry and into the safety confines of his humble abode. All he could think of was how stupid he was for thinking he would have a shot in the Ministry when handling the Malfoy business was enough.
"Draco!"
He stopped dead on his tracks when he heard Hermione's familiar voice. His anger was then replaced with dread and prayed to whomever that the brunette would just leave him alone. Alas, Hermione's familiar bushy hair appeared and Draco knew he had no way to escape anymore.
"Is your interview done already?" she asked, her bright smile lighting up her whole face.
"Yes," he curtly replied.
The smile on her face fell with his answer. Granger was awfully perceptive and Draco wasn't doing a great job in hiding his emotions today.
"How was it?" she then gently asked, although the look in her eyes already understood what he felt.
"Disastrous," was the only thing he could reply.
Hermione sighed, looked at her watch, then said, "Want to grab lunch? I have an hour left before my meeting."
He merely shrugged, head a little bent, when he blindly followed Hermione out of the ministry building. Draco didn't notice he was holding his breath until they stumbled out of the telephone booth.
Hermione was silent all throughout their whole journey and it was only when they finally arrived in a quaint, French restaurant when he noticed she brought him to Muggle London. Draco faltered as he crossed the threshold of the restaurant, not really used to being in Muggle London. Not wanting to offend Hermione, however, he caught up with the brunette and sat down opposite her.
"I figured you didn't want to eat in Wizarding London," she said with a sheepish smile. Draco merely nodded, silently grateful that strangers surrounded them.
As soon as the waiter took their orders, Hermione worriedly looked at him again. "How disastrous was it?" she gently probed.
"As expected from an Ex-Death Eater," he spat, the anger in him seeping out once more. Hermione flinched from the tone of his voice, and Draco tried to restrain his anger, knowing it was unfair to lash out at her when she didn't do anything wrong. Sighing, he slumped down on his seat and glared at the table. "I should have expected it. I didn't know why I even hoped everything would be all right."
Hermione was silent for a minute, before releasing a soft sigh in return. "Henrik McLaggen is a bastard. Everybody in the ministry knew it," she said through gritted teeth. "Like uncle, like nephew."
Draco scowled, recalling how Cormac McLaggen used to maliciously ogle at Hermione back in Hogwarts. His dislike for his uncle heightened. "Yeah, well, Beardy didn't try his best to hide it at all."
"Beardy?" she echoed with a frown.
The blond blinked, sheepish eyes connecting with hers. "A nickname," he hastily said. "A stupid habit of mine."
Hermione looked highly amused. "You give people nicknames?" she asked.
"Only strangers," he said with a frown. Upon Hermione's look, he rolled his eyes and added, "And people I bully." Hermione chuckled, and he continued, "It's easier for me to remember the faces of strangers. I used to call Potter 'Glasses' even before I recognized the scar on his forehead."
A small smile appeared on her face. "Did you give Ron a nickname?" she asked.
Draco sneered. "It wasn't hard to guess he was a Weasley," he shot back. "Red hair, hand-me-down clothes, and a stupid complexion. Definitely a Weasley."
"Fair enough," she said, now grinning widely. "And me?"
"Pre -" He faltered, eyes widening at his almost slip. "Bushy," he grounded out, mentally cursing himself. "I called you 'Bushy' because of your hair."
She knew it wasn't her nickname, seeing how she narrowed her eyes, but had thankfully let it slide. Instead, she said, "McLaggen isn't the greatest of bosses in the whole Ministry. I'm sure it'll be the whole department's loss if they didn't accept you."
He raised a pale eyebrow at her statement. "And how do you know that?" he asked.
Hermione shrugged. "Merlin, you've locked yourself in your study for god knows how long, doing all your Malfoy business stuff," she said. "The Malfoy business is still flourishing despite... err... shortcomings, right? I'm sure it's all because of your hard work and Godric, how the DIMC sorely needed some hardworking employees."
Draco sighed and shook his head. "No use musing about it now," he said. "I'm sure I've botched that interview."
She looked like she was about to say something when their orders finally arrived. While the waiter was placing their food on the table, Draco took that opportunity to survey Hermione. She had dark bags under her eyes and looked paler than normal. She also looked tired and worn, and it didn't need a genius to guess that her work was starting to get hectic.
"Lestrange's case isn't settled yet?" he asked once the waiter was out of earshot.
Hermione gave him a wary look. "No," she said. "But that's classified."
He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure Potter wouldn't persecute you if you told me Lestrange's still being an arse," he shot back, prompting her to quirk her lips into a small smile. "It's been three months since you caught him without substantial evidence of a forming rebel group. It's... alarming."
The brunette sighed, blowing off some curly tendrils off her face, before brutally stabbing a steamed chicken meat on her plate. "We still have trouble making him confess," she said. "And that's the only thing I could tell you."
"Of course," he snarled. "It's classified."
Hermione gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Draco, you kn" –
Her words died down from her lips as she suddenly shot up from her seat. Horror and surprise were etched on her face, her eyes as wide as saucers and all the color draining from her face. Draco, alarmed, swivelled on his seat to look at the direction of her gaze.
He instantly saw Potter, who mirrored Hermione's expression, and beside her was unmistakably Ginny Weasley. Draco vaguely remembered that she was out-of-the country for months due to her Quidditch matches.
The look on Ginny's face had genuinely surprised him, her eyes dark, cold, and glaring. He felt a shiver run down his spine and he knew that a gaze like that was nowhere near friendly.
"G-Ginny," Hermione stuttered, her eyes watering. "You're back."
The coldness in her eyes didn't disappear. "I heard that my brother's murderer had been caught and I had to be back," she deadpanned, prompting Hermione to flinch. Draco couldn't help but scowl at her heartless reply. Then, without another word, the youngest Weasley lifted her chin and swivelled around, storming out of the Muggle restaurant without a glance back. Draco saw how Hermione's face crumpled with Ginny's cold ignorance and felt slightly annoyed with the young witch's reaction.
"So much for being classified," the blond murmured under his breath, shooting a dark glare at Potter, knowing he was partly to be blamed.
Potter looked torn, eyes going back and forth between Hermione and the door. "I'm so sorry, Hermione," he genuinely gushed. "I didn't... I wasn't..."
Hermione saved him from explaining by expelling a huge sigh. "It's all right, Harry," she said, managing to crack a small smile. "You should go after her."
"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he repeated one last time, before running out of the restaurant to catch up with his girlfriend.
Uncomfortable silence settled once Harry was gone. Hermione heavily plopped down on her chair as a small tear slipped down from her eye. Draco looked away in discomfort, not knowing what to do. He once again remembered how Weaslette and her mother accused Hermione as the reason for Ron Weasley's death. Draco couldn't understand it because it was Lestrange who killed Ron, and the brunette across from him was trying her very best to prosecute that Death Eater who killed her husband.
"It... it wasn't your fault Weasley's dead," Draco softly said, thinking it was the best thing to say.
To his surprise, Hermione released a soft, hollow laugh. "No, it was," she tearfully replied. "It was all my fault."
Draco wasn't entirely privy to the whole Weasley family fiasco, and all he knew was that Lestrange killed Ron and she and Rose were shunned by the Weasley family. With Ginny Weasley's reaction and Hermione's cryptic answer, Draco now felt genuinely curious as to what really had happened. But then, seeing Hermione's shaken demeanor, Draco bit his tongue and saved his curiosity for another day.