Hermione woke up in a white room at the Victoria Best Western Palace with a bad hangover and a dull ache in her solar plexus. She decided to forgo the self-pity and jump straight to planning. Finding a way to go back home and pack a few things while avoiding Ron was potentially problematic. Going to work with a suitcase without raising questions was more so. She remembered she still had a purse with the undetectable extension charm in her wardrobe and relaxed. The bathtub in the hotel looked enticing. It was still six o'clock, she had enough time.
Before slipping in the steaming water she looked briefly in the large mirror. Not too bad for a mother, she'd practiced yoga for a couple of years. But endless legs? That's ridiculous. That aspect of the previous day seemed the least painful so she resigned her mind to studying it. Malfoy seemed different somehow. More subdued, less of a braggart. What changed him...age, family life or the war? Anyway, who was she to judge, they were all different. But Malfoy sounding concerned for her? That was beyond strange. Maybe he had developed a taste for Мudbloods. Or considered shagging her to be a more humiliating revenge on his wife. He said something that caught her attention but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Something about his wife enjoying the company of high-born wizards.
Her head fell back against the edge of the tub and she exhaled slowly in pleasure. Sensual delights other than coffee and chocolate were not a regular experience for her. It was incredibly annoying that Malfoy had somehow sensed her dissatisfaction. Her and Ron's sexual relationship had gone a bit labored this past few years. And not because Ron was a 'lousy fuck'! Well, in all honesty she didn't have anyone to compare him with. Still, this was not the reason. Until now she thought that's just what happens - you have kids, responsibilities, countless small tasks that devour your time and energy and sex is just not a priority anymore. Apparently it didn't happen to everyone. Not just men, too. Malfoy had implied that his wife...Wait. He said he didn't qualify anymore. What did he mean by that? Maybe it's just that his family reputation was suffering in the aftermath of Voldemort's demise. They were still a part of the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight', obviously, but that didn't have the same importance in contemporary wizarding society. She had to talk to him, even if it was a red herring.
Hermione dressed quickly and headed to the reception desk to book her stay for a few more nights. She could use the time off to finally face this nightmare.
The end of the workday was approaching when she made her way to the Ministry's dreadful elevator. Which was her least favourite part of her job. Working in Law Enforcement was overall rewarding but the bloody elevator felt like a gruesome mixture of flying on a broomstick and riding a roller coaster. She was still battling the obligatory nausea when she reached the floor where Malfoy's office was. The massive ebony door with his name on it was suitably imposing. He answered on the second knock with an annoyed 'Now what?!' At the sight of her, his expression flickered through surprise and settled on amused.
'I guess you've decided to take me up on that offer. I finish in an hour, but we could just use the desk if you're as desperate as you look'. She almost slammed the door in his face. Finally she decided against it, if only because the abundance of assholes in her life was not any door's fault.
'Wow. Being Head of the international potion regulation committee must really be a stressful job if you are willing to ditch it even for the drudgery of shagging someone like me.'
'What's that supposed to… why are you even here?' His eyes narrowed. The silvery blond of his hair was striking against his black robes. Merlin's beard, she was distracting herself with bullshit just to avoid the task at hand.
'You said something last night. About you not qualifying anymore. In front of Astoria. What did you mean by that?'
'Seriously, I pay your check one evening by pure chance and now we're best friends? Am I expected to spill my guts out to you, tell you all of my secrets? Why on earth would you even think that I meant something by it? Maybe I was just drunk and blabbering.'
'Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I'm… sorry. I'll just go.' But she stood where she was, carefully examining his features. 'You overreacted a little though. It did mean something, didn't it?' He stared at her for a few moments, suddenly solemn.
'I don't qualify as a wizard.' He was looking away from her now, his hands gripping the desk behind him. 'I've been gradually losing my ability to perform magic'. He spoke so softly, yet his voice resonated in every cell of her body.
Author's note: Expect chapter 3 on Thursday.
