He had the book at the Slytherin dining table. Around food. How despicable.
He'd had the book for almost a week now, and Hermione laughed at how slow his comprehension must be if he was still trying to finish it. She'd found him reading it during History of Magic on Monday, in the library again on Tuesday, and now Wednesday at breakfast.
She stabbed her eggs with her fork and glared. What if he spilled pumpkin juice on it! She would absolutely tattle on him then.
She watched as he turned a page and realized he wasn't at the end. He was at the beginning. He was re-reading it? Ugh!
Why would anyone-?
She stopped that thought, as she was sure she had read that same book twice in one week two years ago.
"Hermione, do you know where Harry's at?"
She looked up and Seamus was calling for her, a few seats down.
"No, we're not talking."
"Oh... alright."
She returned her attention to Malfoy and her book. She could really use that book this week. It had been several weeks now that Harry and Ron had stopped talking to her. Lavender and Parvati had started talking about boys in the dormitories at night, so she either had to silence her curtains to avoid them, or spend more time out. The book would have been the perfect distraction this week. She'd been down to visit Hagrid several times, but there was only so much rock cake one could pretend to eat.
He turned another page and it must have been an amusing part, because Malfoy would bring his fingers to his mouth whenever he tried not to smile. She'd noticed this yesterday. She watched as Pansy Parkinson scooted closer to Malfoy. If she dare put her grubby hand on her book...
Pansy leaned over him, trying to see what he was reading. He shoved her off. Hermione smiled as Pansy pouted. Malfoy stood from the table, rolling his eyes at her and packed up his things to leave – taking the book.
Hermione scowled. She rose from the Gryffindor table and followed him out. She exited the Great Hall and turned left, finding the hallway empty.
"Why are you watching me, Granger?"
She turned and found Draco Malfoy, one arm clutching her book and one arm pointing his wand at her.
"Are you done with that book?"
He blinked at her. He looked at the green and gold book that he was holding.
"What?"
"You really shouldn't read books that aren't even yours at the dining table. If you spilled even the smallest drop of coffee on the pages, Madam Pince wouldn't let you hear the end of it. Trust me," she grumbled.
"Well, it's a good thing I don't drink coffee." He glared at her and turned to walk away.
"Are you done with it or not?"
"What's it to you, Mudblood?" He called over his shoulder, and continued away.
"You're only allowed to check a book out for a maximum of two weeks!"
"Then you can get it in two weeks!" He yelled at her, turning around. "Unless I check it back out again!" He smirked at her and she huffed, turning on her heel to return to the Great Hall.
Merlin, she hated him!
~*~
DRACO MALFOY: ENTREPRENEUR
by Rita Skeeter
You know the name. You know the face. You know the hair! What you don't know about Draco Malfoy is what he plans to do next.
But I do!
Draco Malfoy, son of Death Eater Lucius Malfoy and socialite Narcissa Malfoy, was pardoned by the Wizengamot just eight weeks ago and has been working for the Ministry on probation since. But once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin, and his ambitious spirit could not be satisfied at the Ministry.
"I've had a dream of owning my own business. It's not something new, it's something that kept me sane in Azkaban, and it's motivating me forward."
Draco Malfoy sat down with yours truly for an exclusive interview about this new business venture and what it means to him. Continues on page 7!
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when she flipped open the paper Monday morning. She was tense all day Sunday – even before visiting her childhood home – thinking that someone had photographed her leaving Azkaban the day before. When no pictures or stories could be found in the Sunday paper, she knew there was only one more day that she needed to stay off the radar so Draco could announce. Opening the paper and finding Draco's face smirking back at her with Skeeter's title, she knew she was in the clear.
Skeeter continued on page seven, detailing the consulting firm and listing the services Malfoy Consulting Group would offer. Draco was very candid with her, opening up about how important it was to him to separate himself from his father's reputation. She also surprised him in the interview with the news that he had been chosen for the cover of the December issue of Witch Weekly, winning the Most Charming Smile award. Skeeter described his gracious acceptance.
Good. Good for him. This was how it was supposed to be. She may not understand why he was at her house, why his blood was on her walls, but she did know that she'd practically made a deal with Lucius Malfoy that she wouldn't get in the way of Draco's business moving forward. An article in the paper regarding Draco's unlimited potential and future that did not mention her name once was good news.
She sighed. Ginny would be home tonight and she would have to tell her that she went to her home yesterday, alone.
The image of the red lettering ran through her mind, and Hermione shook her head to clear it. Sometime during the war, Draco Malfoy's blood was put on her living room walls. His pure blood. She frowned. She couldn't imagine him spilling his beloved blood for any reason. But the phrasing sounded like him. Like Draco Malfoy at Hogwarts.
She tossed the paper in the rubbish bin and headed out to work abominably early. Taking two days off of Cornerstone had really upset her schedule, and she was itching for the consistency of work.
She wove her way through the already bustling Atrium, took the lifts to the fourth floor, and happily strolled through an empty Magical Creatures office. Once she arrived at her desk, she found a reminder from herself. She had a Wizengamot hearing today. Oh, wonderful.
Jonathan Jugson was appealing his life-sentencing today, claiming that he had been placed under the Imperius curse, forcing him to participate in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries.
Nice try, Jugson. Hermione smiled.
When she heard Mathilda's shoes clicking towards her corner office ten minutes later, Hermione took a breath and met her there.
"Mathilda," she said from the doorway.
"Granger! Good morning!" Mathilda's blouse was one button off, and her hair was sticking out at odd angles. Hermione would almost think she'd just come from a tryst if she didn't already know that this was Mathilda's daily look. Mathilda plopped the files in her arms down on the desk. "You're in early."
"Yes, I wanted to remind you that I have a Wizengamot hearing at ten."
"That's fine. That's fine." Mathilda shook off her coat and tossed it toward the chair in the corner, missing it.
"And I'd love a word, once you're settled in."
"Yes, yes." Mathilda sat in her chair. "I'm settled! Anything wrong?"
"No, not at all," Hermione said, taking the chair across from her. "I heard that Rosenberg is retiring."
"Yes! So exciting for Rochelle! She has seven grandchildren, you know?" Mathilda reached for a quill and knocked the ink pot over.
"I didn't know, actually." She watched as the woman across from her vanished the spilled ink and dipped her quill in, writing HG 11-8-99 across the top of a scroll. "I wanted to let you know that I plan to apply."
Mathilda looked up at her. "Really?"
"Yes," she said. "You know that I am very passionate about house-elf rights, and I hope you would consider me once the job has been posted."
Mathilda chewed on her lip and sat back in her chair. "It would be a lateral move for you."
"Yes, but a move in the right direction, still."
Mathilda nodded and sat forward, jotting notes on her scroll. Hermione wondered if that was all?
"Rochelle has been at that desk for forty years. Did you know that?" Mathilda crossed a "t" and looked up at her again.
"I didn't."
"She is very like you. Passionate about the house-elves. She turned down every offer at a higher-ranking position over those forty years, because she couldn't tear herself away from them. She was very comfortable." Mathilda clasped her hands in front of her. "I'd hate for you to get comfortable, Hermione."
Hermione blinked at her. "I... I understand. I plan to continue upward as the positions open."
"But only in House-Elf Relocation?"
"I... Well," Hermione swallowed. "I guess my short-term goal has always been Relocation, yes. But—"
"What is your long-term goal, Hermione?"
Hermione opened her mouth. And closed it. Mathilda continued.
"Did you know that Millicent Bagnold worked in five of the Ministry's seven departments before being elected Minister? Scrimgeour started in Transport and then worked his way up the D.M.L.E. before heading the Auror office. Leonard Spencer-Moon worked as a tea-boy in Magical Accidents and Catastrophies before moving up to the Muggle Liaison Office and then over to D.M.L.E. for Misuse of Muggle Artefacts."
Mathilda smiled at her. These were all Ministers. Minister.
"It is wise, Miss Granger," Mathilda whispered, "to consider other departments as you move upwards. It will only help you in the end."
In the end. What was Hermione Granger's end?
"That is definitely something to think about Mathilda. Thank you."
"I wanted to let you know," Mathilda stood and began opening shelves, pulling files, "that Robards is quite impressed with you."
"Gawain Robards?"
"Yes," she said, dropping more files onto her desk. "Draco Malfoy will be leaving in December – excellent article in the paper today, by the way. Did you get a chance to read it?"
"Er, yes –"
"Well, Robards is looking to make Malfoy's position a full-time senior analyst position." She smiled at her. "He is hoping you will apply."
Senior analyst? That wasn't climbing the ladder. That was chopping off the first few rungs.
"Well, it's definitely something to think about," Hermione said, head spinning.
She thanked Mathilda for her time, and returned to her desk, thinking about the position. She'd get to work with Harry more often. And Katie Bell. But it would have nothing to do with house-elves or magical creatures. She'd just had her first success in current position with the Chimaera project.
She was still frowning, weighing the pros and cons at ten minutes until ten when she called the lift to head down to the courtrooms.
The lift arrived, gates opened and Draco Malfoy was leaning against the wall. Her blood ran cold. She'd forgotten all about him for three hours. How lovely was that.
His eyes held the same surprise and suspicion from the last time she'd seen him – at Malfoy Manor, as she was running. She set her jaw and joined him in the lift. As the gates closed, she could feel him, watching her.
What did he know about her meeting with Lucius? Did he know of Narcissa's plan? Or was he completely oblivious? What did Narcissa tell him after she fled? Did she tell him that Hermione had rejected him? And did that even matter?
Not her ex-fiancé. Her co-worker.
"Good morning," she said. It was overdue. There had been too much silence before she'd greeted him.
The lift slowed to stop at Level 5. She didn't know whether to curse since the ride would take forever if it stopped at every floor, or sigh if that meant there would be others joining them.
When the gates opened and revealed Aiden O'Connor midway through biting into an apple, Hermione decided it was her lucky day.
"Hey!" Aiden mumbled around his apple. "Malfoy, great article today. That's exciting, isn't it?"
"Thank you, yes." His voice was strained. Aiden continued talking, his strongest trait.
When the lift slowed again for the Atrium, and Aiden was still talking, Hermione almost grinned. Almost over.
Aiden stepped out, and looked over his shoulder. "Getting out here?"
"No, I'm heading down to the Wizengamot," Draco said. Shit shit shit.
"Er, same." She said.
Aiden waved, and bit into his apple again as the gates closed and they descended.
She heard Draco take a breath to speak, and she cut him off.
"It was an excellent article, really," she said. "Skeeter did a wonderful job introducing Malfoy Consulting Group to the Wizarding World."
She didn't look at him.
"Thank you."
"And congratulations on Witch Weekly." She chuckled.
The lift arrived at Level 10. He held the gate open for her. She kept her gaze straight ahead, on the oak door at the end of the hall. Their shoes echoed against the stones, and she wondered if he was early or late for his appointment with the Wizengamot. Because she was five minutes early.
Please, don't let them stand here for five minutes, waiting for her name to be called.
He was watching her again. They stopped about three quarters of the way down the hall, roughly in the same spot they'd been the last time they'd shared the hallway.
The last time, she regretted standing across from him, forced to face him and look at him or look at the ground. He stopped and leaned against the wall to the right. She decided to join him on his wall this time, a few feet down.
This was so much worse.
She couldn't see him. She could feel him, feel him watching her.
The last time they'd shared this hallway he'd accused her of trying to free all of the Death Eaters, accused her of creating a Life Debt for testifying for him in Azkaban, pressed her up against this very wall and let hot air hiss from his lips about Auctions and galleons and virginities.
"You weren't at Cornerstone yesterday."
She felt her breath catch in her lungs. His eyes were on her, so she did not move and focused on breathing.
"No, I was ill." She stared at the opposite wall, keeping her head high. "Was Morty able to help you?"
He was silent. And she was sure if she looked at him, he would be scowling at her.
So he'd come to Cornerstone the day after she'd fled from his house, refusing to marry him. A voice in her head chuckled at the bare bones of the situation. What had he wanted from her? Another book giftwrapped for another girlfriend?
From the corner of her eye she could see him turn his body toward her, crossing one ankle over the other.
Or maybe to apologize? Or to clarify? Or to confuse her further. Probably the last.
"I heard you went to see my father."
She closed her eyes. Co-worker. Co-worker. Co-worker.
"I did," she said. "It was very nice of him to want to meet with me."
She was about to elaborate. To lie, or to ghost over the truth, or to stick to the forty-five seconds of pleasant conversation Lucius and she had had, but she remembered the blood on her walls. She didn't really owe him anything. She heard Draco's knuckle pop to her right. And the silhouette of him pushing his hair back.
He was agitated. Oh, how delicious.
She kept her eyes straight ahead and said nothing more. He pressed a hand against the wall, uncrossing his ankles.
"And you had a nice visit?"
"Perfectly nice." She thought about examining her nails in his presence, but thought that might be too callous. "I'd never truly met him." She turned to look at him, and with a falsely pleasant look in her eye, said, "You're very similar."
His left eye twitched, and she thought of the paper in her wastebasket at home, adamantly stating how much Draco wanted to distance himself from his father.
The corner of her mouth pulled up even as she tried to stop it. He saw, and clenched his jaw. He stepped forward.
"If I'd known about the meeting, I would have stopped it."
She held his eyes. He was three paces from her, but she could feel the air tightening in the hallway, just like last time.
"My mother likes to meddle in things she has no business in. I apologize that you got wrapped up in it."
An apology? For what? For the unwarranted proposal? For the stress of sitting down with Lucius Malfoy in the first place? For the entire false relationship with Narcissa Malfoy? There were still no answers from him.
"I don't know what he said to you, but—"
"Why is your blood on my living room walls?"
His mouth had stopped mid-word, and he blinked at her, eyes dancing back and forth between hers. She pinned him with her stare, not giving in. She watched as his jaw clicked shut, and he swallowed.
"Miss Granger?" The portly man poked his head out the door. "Are you ready?"
"Quite." She stepped off the wall and clicked her way toward the oak door, leaving Draco behind.
~*~
"Tell me again what it said."
Hermione sighed and rubbed her forehead. She sat at the dining table while Ginny paced the living room, wringing her hands. Harry was cooking dinner in the kitchen, occasionally piping in. She'd forgotten how exhausting "team-research" was. She had to continue to re-tell and re-explain bits and pieces that came so easily to the front of her mind.
"Mudblood, You can run, but they can't hide."
"And how big were the letters?" Ginny changed her pacing path and twisted around the coffee table.
Hermione spread her hands apart, indicating the size. Harry popped his head out of the kitchen to look.
"That's too much blood," Harry said.
"You're telling me!" Hermione laughed.
"No, I mean..." Harry stepped out of the kitchen, sauce spoon in hand. "Draco Malfoy cut open his precious skin, split his precious vein, and lost that much of his precious blood? For what? Just to scare you?"
Ginny was nodding and pacing, looking at the floor. It was odd having her here in Ron's place. Usually Ron just sat still, eating, until Hermione figured it out all alone.
"And that was all?" Ginny said.
"I searched the rest of the house and couldn't find any other messages. There were no curses. Just the Muggle-Repelling Charm."
"I need to look at the Wall." Ginny scratched her head and changed her pace to a direct path to Hermione's room.
Harry disappeared back into the kitchen. Hermione picked up her coffee cup, about to take a sip when Harry reappeared, frowning at the floor, arms crossed.
"Ginny might have been out of town, but I was here." He looked up at her. "You shouldn't have gone alone. We're still a team."
Hermione blinked. "I... I'm sorry. I just..." She looked down. He was disappointed. "I wanted to return home by myself."
Harry nodded, and said, "I allowed you to come with me when I returned home."
He stepped back into the kitchen, and she heard a pot bubbling. She stared at the spot he disappeared, thinking of Godric's Hollow, until she heard Ginny's pattering feet lead her back out into the living area.
"Muggle-Repelling Charm. Why?" Ginny resumed her pace.
Hermione shook off the guilt and turned to the ginger. "I... I don't know."
"And you didn't place one when you left?"
"No, I assumed the house would sell," she said, picking up her cup again. "It's possible that the charms I placed on my parents caused them to pack up and leave without thinking of placing the house on the market. I made it clear that they needed to move to Australia within the week."
Harry appeared from the kitchen, levitating three plates of pasta and vegetables. He set them on the table. "Perhaps we could stop talking about the... blood on the wall." Harry nodded to Ginny, who was pacing, cracking her neck.
Hermione's mind brought forward the image of the blood outside Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom. The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. The bloody letters Ginny had written while possessed. Hermione had forgotten and had dragged her through this again.
"I'm not a flower, Potter." Ginny scowled at him and sat at the table. "I want to figure this out just as much as she does, so let me help."
"No, Harry's right. We can let it rest for a bit." Hermione grabbed up her napkin and started eating. There was silence.
"What did he say when you asked him?"
She looked up. Ginny wasn't eating. She was scowling at the table.
"Nothing. I mean, it wasn't really a question. It was more of a... punctuation." She smiled. "I didn't expect an answer."
"Do you think he'd tell the truth if you really asked him?" Harry said.
"No," Ginny and Hermione said at the same time.
Ginny stood and paced again. Harry sighed.
"He said he didn't know about your meeting with Lucius?" Ginny said.
"No. He said he would have stopped it if he had."
Ginny rubbed her forehead. "This is maddening!"
Hermione laughed. "Believe me, I know. But let it go, Ginny. Eat."
"I want to know what's going on in that stupid blond head!" Ginny stomped. Hermione smiled.
"It's a shame we don't have any contacts on the Wizengamot." Harry brought his fork to his mouth, twirling pasta.
Ginny and Hermione looked at him. "Why?"
"Well, the Wizengamot got to review the memories he provided. Those might have had some answers." Harry chewed, looking down at his plate.
"Memories?" Hermione said.
"Yeah," Harry said with a full mouth. "He provided memories the day he was released. The testimonies and the memories were the sole reasons he got off. Memories either proving his innocence or condemning other Death Eaters." He looked up at them. "I told you that."
"No," Ginny said. "I don't think you did."
"Oh." Harry shrugged. "Well, good. I shouldn't have. Shouldn't be!"
"And where are these memories now?"
Harry spun another bite of pasta onto his fork. "Probably in the Wizengamot Administration Services office, filed for review."
Ginny looked at Hermione. She raised a brow. Hermione could feel her heart beating and she didn't know why.
"And," Ginny said slowly, "What security measures are in place in the Wizengamot Admin office? Curses? Passwords?"
"Rotating passwords and a two-Auror shift." Harry wiped his mouth. He grabbed for his water glass.
"And," Ginny said, "When is your shift?"
Harry looked at the two girls over his water glass. His eyes wide, then weary.
He set the glass down, scowling at the table. "Oh, bollocks."