Hermione had barely escaped Mrs Weasley's ministrations that morning. An elaborately woven braid was the only evidence of her handiwork and for that Hermione was thankful. According to Mrs Weasley, the robes she had been crammed into the week before had stuck to her until midnight. Too bad she hadn't thought to try taking them off again until the next morning.

As she sat at a table in a gloomy interview room at Azkaban prison, waiting to see Lucius Malfoy, Hermione was infinitely glad not to have been forced into another creation a la Molly Weasley. She would never have lived it down.

She lifted her chin and settled her parchment in place in the hopes that the man would finally talk now that his wife was dying. This reminded her of the man next to her and Hermione cast a quick glance at him.

Draco Malfoy was dressed in Quidditch gear. His hair spiked up on once side as if he'd raked his hands through it several times. He probably had. Hermione found this strangely appealing, as if he were more human now.

He still had splashes of green on his face and hands, which trembled alarmingly against the tabletop. Hermione pulled her beaded bag out of her robes and searched inside for a handkerchief. Once she found one, a quick aguamenti dampened it enough to be serviceable.

She held it out to him on an open palm for several seconds, but his mind seemed to be a million miles away. She hesitated for a moment before tucking it directly into his hand. Malfoy seemed to come back to Earth at that and he gazed dumbly at the cloth as if he didn't know quite what it was.

"Your face, Malfoy. And hands. They still have . . ."

Hermione trailed off at his sudden, intense scrutiny. His pupils were blown, the gray iris like a thin glass ring. She couldn't help staring back at him, and she tried to project calm and peace as she would if she were confronted with a wild animal. She finally put her finger on her cheek.

"You might like to clean up before you see your father, is all," she said softly.

He blinked and then turned back toward the front of the room and mechanically scrubbed at his face. Most of the green was gone now except for his hands, which were still speckled.

The door clicked and an Auror lead what Hermione knew must be Lucius Malfoy into the room. Draco stood instantly until his father was seated properly with one wrist chained to the table. Hermione said nothing and tried to give them time to adjust. It was time they didn't have, but she gave it gladly just so she could tune out the awkwardness.

Lucius lifted his face and smoothed his long platinum hair from his forehead. He gazed at them both dispassionately, but she supposed that he had a warmer gleam when his eyes passed over Draco. No one spoke. The Auror standing behind the elder Malfoy shifted and Hermione could hear the creaking leather of his wand holster. She set the parchment in her hands down and stood the transcribing quill on end above it.

She cleared her throat and sat up a bit straighter. "Mr Malfoy, we are here today because your son has agreed to cooperate with our investigation into the cause of the Green Death and I was hoping that—"

"Why would he do that?" Lucius asked sharply, all of the old arrogance and superciliousness in his voice. "I didn't give permission—"

"Mother," Draco said simply. "She has it. She's dying."

Lucius locked eyes with Draco across the table. Hermione had the impression of a silent communication going on between the two men and realised that they probably were speaking without words despite the fact that neither had wands to perform a legilimens charm. Finally the man's eyes drifted down to Draco's hands and the handkerchief balled in his fist.

He shifted back in his chair and gazed passively at Hermione from across the table. "What is it that you need to know, Miss Granger?"

Hermione released a breath that she hadn't realised she was holding and closed her eyes in an involuntary prayer of thanks.

"We need any and all information you hold about the Green Death or the necklace we believe to be at the root of the plague."

He nodded and glanced briefly at Draco. "Do you have this necklace so I might look at it?"

Hermione snapped the clasp of her beaded bag open, levitated it out, and directed her wand to set it on the table.

"It's surrounded by an anti-curse field so don't touch it with your bare skin."

"I have no reason to touch it," Lucius said as he studied the pendant. "Found this at Hogwarts? In the lake?"

Hermione nodded in mute astonishment. Lucius waved at the necklace so she put it back in her handbag.

"I know what the object is. And you're right, it did start this plague. It has done so before."

"Yes," Hermione interjected, "I read an account by a monk from 1553 who said that a plague with the same symptoms had just ended."

He nodded. "But even before that. At least twice that I've read accounted for."

Hermione could feel a flush of excitement overtake her body. "Where? Where did you read this?"

Lucius Malfoy's lip twitched ever so slightly and she knew that the game of cat and mouse she'd played with him for so long wasn't over yet. "Private family books, Miss Granger."

Hermione pursed her lips. "If you want us to help your wife, then we need solid facts not more games, Mr Malfoy."

"Little lioness needs her claws clipped, Draco," Lucius said without looking at his son.

"Just answer, Father," Draco replied tightly. "Mother's dying. We don't have time for—"

"We have as much time as I say we do!" Lucius admonished, whipping his eyes back to his son. "Don't be impertinent."

Draco stood up and banged the table with his fist. "Enough! Just tell us or I swear that when I'm released I'll disinherit myself and the Malfoys will end with me."

Lucius blinked twice and his son seemed to realise what he'd said and slowly slinked back into the chair. There was silence then, thick in the room and only broken by the sounds of breathing and the rustling of cloth as Hermione put her beaded handbag away. She half hoped that the sound would break the tension.

Lucius clasped his hands together and stared at the wall to his right for what felt like several minutes. He twisted his signet ring around his finger several times as he contemplated. Finally he looked back at Draco and slid his ring off his pointer finger. Hermione heard Draco gasp from beside her and she turned quickly to see if he was in some type of pain so she missed the look on Lucius Malfoy's face as he said the following words:

"With this seal, I hand my lands, my wealth, and my life to my beloved son."

"Father," Draco muttered weakly. "You can't."

Lucius looked down at the ring. "I must. To save your mother now as I couldn't before." He held it out on his palm. "Take it."

"But why—?" Lucius lifted a single eyebrow and Draco stopped talking completely.

Draco carefully plucked the ring from his father's palm and slid it silently onto his left pointer finger. The ring glowed red for a moment and Hermione's hair crackled with the latent magical energy that flooded the room. The Auror shifted again and started forward but Hermione held up her hand to make him stop.

Draco reached his right hand across the table and clasped his hand fully around his father's. "I'm sorry for what I said. I'll always be a Malfoy. I won't disappoint you."

Lucius nodded. "The books you're looking for are in my study. You know where. You can collect them and read them now as—" he paused, "as master of the manor."

"Which books specifically are we looking for, Mr Malfoy?" Hermione asked, hesitant to break the moment the man was having with his son since they wouldn't likely see each other again for years.

He glanced at her disdainfully. "You will read nothing, Miss Granger. My son is the only person now who can read the books. They are the private diaries of every Malfoy since the Conquest."

"But that could be hundreds of books!" Hermione said shrilly. "How can we possibly—"

Lucius cut her off by speaking to Draco again. "Look at the diaries of Guiscard Malfoi. He'll be the very first set. Look for his marriage. I think it was in 1089. Then read the diaries of Courtenay and Godwin Malfoy. The last diary for Courtney and the first one for Godwin. The others may all have glimpses of information, but those are the ones you want."

Hermione silently fumed at Lucius' dismissive attitude, but was still so thankful for the information that she could kiss the evil old bastard. It was the only thing that stayed her from sweeping Draco away right then and there. Instead she glanced at her watch and resolved to give them another five minutes.

The time passed with only soft conversation between father and son. Hermione realised that she had vilified Lucius Malfoy so much in her mind (and deservedly so) that she had never stopped to think of him as a human father and husband. When she peeked a look at them, the warm affection in his eyes was as evident as his blond hair or ragged prison garb.

The five minutes ticked past and Hermione was going to allow them another minute or two when she heard the Auror cough loudly. Both Malfoy men tensed up and were silent.

"Well," she said quietly. "I suppose we need to go now. Say goodbye, Malfoy. Um, Draco."

The men looked at her and then away. Hermione stood and smoothed down her robes before stepping over to the Auror behind Mr Malfoy. "Please ensure that he is treated well," she asked softly. "He looks quite haggard, and he has been very helpful today."

The Auror snorted. "What'd'ye expect, Miss Granger? This is a bloody prison not a nursery."

Hermione crinkled her brow in a frown and was about to say something back when she felt a presence behind her. She turned and tipped her head back to look Draco Malfoy in the face. He was a bit too close for comfort but she didn't have anywhere to move to in order to make space.

"Let's go," he said gruffly. "We've said our goodbyes. Mother needs me."

Hermione nodded and pulled against the wall to let the Auror past so he could lead them out. She walked around the table and offered her hand to Lucius.

"Mr Malfoy, thank you for your help. I'm sure it will prove invaluable."

Her hand wavered awkwardly there and she felt Draco's eyes on her but she still held it out stubbornly. After a full minute where Hermione internally beat herself up for doing something so stupid, the man surprised her by clasping her hand lightly with his own.

"Despite our history, Miss Granger, I'm glad that it's you working on this with Draco. I feel that the—" He paused for a moment as if picking his words carefully. "The essence of your personality and influence will be helpful to him and to all Malfoys to come."

He tightened his grip momentarily and then released her. "Good luck." Lucius half-turned his head toward the door. "And Draco, save your cunning. This isn't the contest for that. Forget everything I've taught you."

From the look on his face, Draco didn't seem to know anything more than she did. Hermione's head swam with the effort of deciphering Lucius Malfoy's cryptic words as they exited the interview room.


Draco smiled and hunched further into the book he was reading. Granger was fuming behind him, unable to read a word of the old Norman French due to the shielding spells that protected the diaries from being read by anyone but the current patriarch. Which was now him.

His smile slipped a little at the thought. Then Granger tapped her foot impatiently and gave another breathy sigh of exasperation.

"Why don't you take notes like I suggested, Granger? That's what you're best at anyway. Following orders like a cocker spaniel."

There was silence for a moment until a hand suddenly boxed his right ear sharply. Draco dropped the book and clutched his ear. "Fu—"

Quiet again as she had cast a non-verbal silencio on him. He glared at her over his father's desk and watched as she serenely sat in the chair he usually occupied. She smoothed her robes over her crossed legs and summoned the writing slant from across the room with parchment and ink. A quill was pulled from her unusually sleek hairdo and she sat up pertly with an air of expectancy.

"I'm waiting for your orders, O Great Malfoy."

He glared at her impertinent face, and closed his eyes, attempting to somehow break the Ministry's suppression of his magic. He managed a squeak of sound before she scoffed and waved her wand at him to release the spell.

"Do that again and I'll—"

"You'll what?" she asked sharply. "Stop helping your mother?"

Draco didn't say anything. He drew a deep breath and skimmed over the diary of Guiscard Malfoi in his hands instead. She inhaled and exhaled, clothes rustled, fingers tapped softly on her upper arm. He ignored it.

Even with the translation spell the diary automatically provided, it was tough reading. After the clock rang the hour, he finally found a small morsel of information. He was sure that this was the bit to which his father had referred.

Draco read it aloud:

Eadburga gave me this evening a gift. A large square emerald the size of a robin's egg in an ancient Gaulish setting. It is a pretty enough trifle, but she told a story with the gem. Since her brother died, her father instructed her to give this to me and so carry forward the ancient line of a man she calls Gwayn. Their family had been blessed by the Green Man, so she says, and any Winterborn son of ours shall be doubly blessed. I think her line must not have been so blessed since it is now extinct, but I will pass it on to our first son as she has asked. I had a mind to sell it, but it is a small thing and I have found her quite buxom as many of the Angle witches here are. She has magnificent dugs that have kept my attention—

Draco stopped suddenly and remembered that Granger was still in the room. When he looked up over the top of the book her eyes were glittering hard orbs in her pale face.

"He passed the necklace to his son because he liked her breasts," she stated coolly.

He couldn't help but smirk. "Apparently. Might want to look into some charms there, Granger."

Now that was a lie. Draco freely admitted to himself that Granger certainly wasn't deficient there. He shifted uncomfortably when she looked down at her chest in disbelief. It was a good thing she was wearing one of those shapeless robes again instead of that revealing fuschia monstrosity. At least he could think properly this way without the things looking at him. When she'd moved her hair aside last week, her nipples had almost peeked over the top of those damned . . .

Draco was glad that there was a desk between them. He would have felt worse about his burgeoning erection if he didn't clearly remember the time in third year when he'd been in agony at the Slytherin table because of the way the light struck Eloise Midgin's hair two benches away. Her hair of all things. Bloody pixie pile like Granger's and her face wasn't even half as pleasant.

He tossed the book back on the desk, plucked up the last diary of Courtenay Malfoy, and began to flip through it idly. He couldn't help but be hyper aware of Granger's presence, even if she was across the desk from him.

Draco lowered the top of the book to observe her since she was sitting idle with her face turned away from him. He followed with his eyes the arch of her neck up to her cheek and then back down. The neck of her robes frustrated him, buttoned as they were to the very top. He found himself wishing that she would slip a few of the buttons from the holes so he could see what was underneath again when suddenly the top five buttons just fell away revealing a generous glimpse of her skin and underclothes.

He quickly went back to the book. She hadn't seemed to notice yet. He had to remember what his father had told him about the ring and it's ability to sometimes anticipate a person's thoughts or desires.

The clock ticked.

Granger huffed, and puffed, and shifted, which only revealed more of her skin. He ignored her and read the bloody book. Talk of crops and taxes to the Crown. Draco wrinkled his forehead and was about to sacrifice his dignity to ask Granger when he remembered that this was before wizards separated themselves from Muggles. This was during the time that they lived among Muggles, side by side, and sometimes even married them. Except his family. And several others. Even the Weasleys didn't marry Muggles.

Draco plopped the book on the desk so he could lean his elbow on it to support his head. It seemed unintentionally easier this way to spy on Granger except that she was now glaring at him. The pink it brought to her cheeks made him uncomfortable again. He idly wondered, as he flipped through yet more pages about crop yields, when he became so desperate that he had to ogle Granger as if she was a glass of water in the desert.

His gaze trailed down the soft creamy skin of her throat. It was a really nice glass of water, too. Except for the hair. That was still frightful.

She turned toward him and he dutifully went back to the book. His mother's life was at stake and he was sitting there leering at Granger like a depraved thirteen year old boy.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and wished again that he'd had his wand. He flicked his eyes up at Granger again, but this time assessing her reasonability. Should he ask her for her wand? It was a bit intimate and technically illegal now, but this was also the girl who ran with Potter and engaged in activities of questionable legality for years. She had more in her soul than a stuffy schoolmarm despite common opinion. She'd bloody lied to his aunt. He couldn't even do that! Besides, she was a Gryffindor. Breaking the rules and cheating for a 'good' cause was what they did. He almost smirked until he remembered that it would reduce her trust in his intensions.

"Granger," he said quietly, trying not to startle her. "This is going to take all night. We need this information now."

She shifted in her chair and looked at him again. Her arms were crossed over her chest, but he steadily ignored her body in favour of her face. Her features were tight with distrust as she stared at him and her frame was rigid. She would need serious motivation. And brutal honesty. Vulnerability he didn't want to show, but it was necessary. He'd have to pull a Hufflepuff.

"I need your wand."

Granger made a sort of snorting scoff and turned her head away. "You're mad, Malfoy. All the time alone in this decrepit old place has made your brains soft."

He held back sigh of irritation. "If you want us to be done with this any time soon, I need your wand. Otherwise it could take another full day before I find the right information."

She turned her face back to him. "How thick do you think I am? Not only could I lose my job, but I'd go to Azkaban." Granger ran her eyes over him in a brief assessment. "Or you could kill me with my own wand. Not a way I want to die."

Draco seized his hair in both hands and squeezed. She was so irritating! "I don't know about you, Granger, but I love my mother. I don't know how you feel about your parents, but despite everything that happened in this bloody house with that snake bastard, I love them. Especially her."

He caught her eye and held it for a moment. "Help me save her."

Draco could see the moment when he'd won. It was as if a lake was melting and the first crack in Granger's armour clearly showed in her eyes first. Then her shoulders seemed to collapse down, and her eyes became especially glossy. Her lip even trembled and grew red.

"My parents . . ." she whispered. "I love them, too."

Draco held out his hand but she surprised him instead by getting up and walking around the desk to stand beside him. She pulled her wand from the holster on her hip and placed her other hand on his shoulder.

Granger sniffed a couple of times and cleared her throat. "I may believe you want the best for your mother, but I'm not stupid. I'm not going to release you until you've given my wand back. Don't try anything funny or I'll choke you. I'm standing close enough to do it before you could say the words. If you can even cast a spell with the restraints on."

A lopsided smile started to form on his face until he realised how close she really was. How close her bare chest was to his cheek. Even closer as she leant over and placed her wand carefully in his palm.

"I'm watching you," she said softly.

He sat there dumbly for a moment, trying not to look like a complete fool as he contemplated what spell he needed to say. How did the wand movements go? The inflection? It'd been too long since he'd held a wand. Even Granger's wand; that slim vine rod felt comforting in his hands. He couldn't help but caress it slightly in anticipation of making it work for him.

"Malfoy," Granger said hesitantly. "Do you need—"

"I have it," he cut her off sharply. "I don't need you to tell me how to cast a simple spell."

Draco focussed on the ring for a moment and then switched the wand to his left hand. He knew that even with his own magic suppressed as it was, the ring was sensitive to his needs. It would possibly override the restraints and help to direct the spell to what he was looking for, and perhaps even help master Granger's wand. He could feel a slight resistance in it against him, a tugging and a pulling as if it was trying to creep away.

As soon as the ring touched the vinewood, the wand stopped resisting and lay meekly in his left hand. It would be doubly awkward to cast a spell with his non-dominant hand, but he could do it.

Wand tip up. Small circle at the base with tip stationary. Speak the first syllable. Sharp downturn halfway through the second syllable to touch the page.

"Revelio!"

Granger huffed and reached over to pluck the wand from his fingers. "All that drama, Malfoy. I could have cast a revealing charm myself! And it won't even work. It's not as if the book knows what . . ."

She fell silent. There was a very soft green glow he could see coming from under the thin parchment page he had open, illuminating it from the underside like a lampshade. He flipped three pages down and there, in sparkling green, was a large section of text.

Granger sucked a breath over her teeth in a way that made a low whistling sound.

"There was nothing but gibberish before, but now I can read it, too!"

He felt a strand of her hair tickle his cheek as she leant over him to examine the book. She didn't seem to be conscious of doing so, especially considering the gaping fabric of her sensible robes. Her chest was firmly notched against his shoulder and he had to force himself not to react like a sex-starved idiot and stare or grope her.

Her hands darted out, wand clattering to the desk, and she snatched the book from in front of him.

"What the—?"

Draco wouldn't look at her. Couldn't look. Not when he was so aware. Bloody forced isolation!

"It's gibberish again!" she cried. "I swear that it was words. Real words!"

He breathed out hard derisively. "You're lucky it didn't destroy your soul or shrivel your hands into dessicated claws."

She slammed the book back on his desk and stormed around to sit in the seat she was in before.

"Should I continue?" Draco asked dryly. "Or did you want me to do all the work."

If she was that type of person, he would probably be staring at a nasty hand sign by this point. The thought of Granger doing something like that made him struggle to keep a laugh inside. He was trying to look put upon.

"Read," she gritted out slowly. "I'm taking notes."

Draco felt an euphoric bubble of glee spring up inside him. Served the damned know-it-all right. Bloody controlling witch. Now he had the control. No more coming to his house, barging in, and demanding to look at his books. She had to wait because he had all the answers.

I was challenged today by a giant green knight. I say he was a green knight because his hair, clothing, skin, and even his horse were green. He appeared as a wild man of the wood. He rode straight into my hall and asked if I was Winterborn. I confirmed that I was and he issued a challenge to me. If I did not meet him at Lud's Church one year from today then there would be grave consequences.

Just as suddenly as he came, he was gone. I would doubt my mind, but my beloved wife assures me that I have not since she also saw the spectre. Even if I knew where Lud's Church lay, I see no reason to answer him. Besides, it is the second day of Christmas and I am inebriated as is my wife. It is possible that we dreamed the entire thing.

"He ignored it?" Granger said shrilly. "This huge green person rode into his house on a horse and he just pretended it didn't happen?"

Draco shrugged. "There seems to be more further in the book here. Do you want me to finish?"

She seemed mentally far away. "No. Don't read any more yet. Give me a moment. This seems very familiar to me."

"You read something about a green knight?"

"That doesn't mean anything! Muggle fairy tales don't have anything to do with this." Draco put the book down and stretched his arms up over his head. When his stomach growled he realised that he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast so he summoned an elf from the kitchens.

"Dilly, bring me something to eat." Draco assessed Granger quietly. She'd been with him most of the day. "And something for Miss Granger, too. We have a long night ahead."


Hermione sat back in her chair, quite exhausted. Her hand was cramping and the tendons throbbed like they hadn't done since she revised for her O.W.L's. She should have just set a transcription quill to go but she wanted to make sure that every word was recorded properly. In this situation she had the sense that even one wrong word could destroy their chances of finding the end of this tangled web.

She reached forward and snagged a piece of cheese with her right hand as she reviewed the roll of parchment in front of her. Three feet of parchment worth of notes in a single night! It was real progress.

Malfoy was sprawled out over his side of the desk, his cheek propped up on a book with his mouth half open. It was three in the morning and they'd been working straight through since five that afternoon. With the stress of the situation, she supposed he deserved some sleep.

Hermione called as softly as she could for the elf that was in the room earlier. Dilly? Perhaps she'd still come if it was for Malfoy.

A little elf with ears that were quite small by the usual standard and a tiny button nose popped into existence. She looked as startled to be there as Hermione was to see her.

The little brow furrowed. "M-mistress called, Dilly?"

Hermione smiled thinly. "I'm not your mistress. I was just hoping you could take your, uh, Malfoy to his bed. He fell asleep."

Dilly's face wore an even more intense look of concentration. "Dilly will do as Mistress bids."

Hermione frowned. "I'm not—" She closed her eyes and tried not to get irritated with the elf. She couldn't help her mindset. "If you could please take him to his room?"

The elf nodded and snapped her fingers. Both she and Malfoy disappeared. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and stood up so she could stretch her arms above her head. She twisted side to side a couple of times and then bent down to touch her toes. It was the same stretches she always did in school to loosen up after a night of revising.

As she came back up, she noticed that her robes were gaping open. Hermione pulled the two sides together and realised that it was open past the edge of her bra even. How had that happened?

She went to button it back up, but the buttons weren't there. They'd simply vanished, string and all. Hermione frowned. That would have explained the strange looks she'd gotten from Malfoy all evening.

Hermione swallowed down the discomfort and the heat on her cheeks. There was nothing to be done for it now but to move forward. This was probably more of Mrs Weasley's handiwork. The woman must have started going through her closet now and putting jinxes on her clothes.

Tomorrow, she'd be prepared for any Weasley invasions.