At half past seven, I am looking out the dreary window that is behind my desk, watching as the lights come on across the city. This city that I love. This city that I will give my everything for. This city that is the only thing grounding me to this miserable life.

I don't hear her heals as they come up the stairs to my third floor office. The elevator has been broke down for days and there is no sign of it ever being repaired. Being the only office on this floor I know when someone is coming by the sound of their shoes as they track up the flights of stairs.

Not her. There was a nearly inaudible pop just before 8, and she opens my office door.

I don't turn. I know it is her. I can't explain how, I just know. Something like a sixth sense - my gut just knows. I look down at myself dressed in a white tuxedo jacket, black shirt and slacks, and polished wingtips. I pack my backup revolver, locked and loaded. I also have memorized all the contacts at the department that still are on friendly terms with me, just in case. I also have my PI ticket with me, though at this moment I wish I had my piece of tin that is my badge instead. Shame I had to turn that in with the gun I am most comfortable shooting.

"Do I meet with your approval Miss Granger?" I ask snarkily not even turning around to see her. It seems to be my default right now. I don't like this dame, and I have never been able to hide the disdain in my voice. Probably why I was paired with Blaise to begin with; he was always cheery and personable and I was sullen. It was the perfect 'good cop/bad cop' combination. He knew all the gumshoes around. I couldn't be troubled. He would ask about their wives, their kids, their lives. I didn't care. I focused on results, give me the answers to my questions and I always came up with the end, the conviction, the perp in jail. My 'bad attitude' comes across more and more now that he is gone and this prissy dame is just making me worse.

"Absolutely. Now do I meet with yours Mister Malfoy?" Her voice is low and sultry, like some crooner in a private jazz bar. How did I not notice it before now or did it change just to get a rise out of me?

I turn around to see her in a black strapless dress that cut outs at her middle and a full skirt with a slit that goes to her upper thigh. More than slightly scandalous, but it is sexy and as sultry as her deep voice.

My eyes widen when I take in the whole picture - her silver handbag, her white rabbit fur shrug hanging over one shoulder, her smoky eyes making them look so much more golden than brown, and her deep red pouty lips. My villainous body shudders when I take in her whole package. I instantly notice the tightening in my pants that makes them uncomfortable. "You look very nice Miss Granger. Now are you going to give me the information I require or are you going to string me along some more?"

"Like I said before Mister Malfoy," she said haughtily but still in that sexy voice, "I need to show you some background before I am able to answer the questions you have right now. You probably will have a few hundred more before the night is over."

"Fine, do I need to call for a taxi?"

"We won't need a taxi." She holds out her hand. "Grab your hat Mister Malfoy and lock the door."

"Then what?" I do as she says looking at her outstretched hand confused.

"Take my hand," she says with an eye roll.

"Shouldn't I be offering you my arm? I mean I would if I were a proper gentleman, but I'm not."

"Fine. Whatever you are most comfortable with Mister Malfoy," she says indignantly.

I offer the lady my arm, which she take in her long gloved hand. I notice no ring adorning her left ring finger, just a sizable pear shaped sapphire surrounded by two rings of diamonds and three flares on the side, also covered in diamonds. It looks to be a pricy piece, and from what I have gathered this Miss Hermione Granger, can afford and flaunt it.

"Engaged?" I nod to the ring on her right hand.

"No," she shyly says through her long curled lashes. Something changed in her demeanor when I mentioned the ring. Something softens her. I finally hit a sore spot, maybe one I can use to my benefit. "It was my great, great grandmother's ring. It is passed on through the women of my family when we turn of age." I nod, but inwardly I am grateful for the answer. Maybe she isn't committed to anyone. "I was meant to marry Blaise. Our marriage was arranged when we were children by our parents." There is a hiccup in her voice, a break, a crack. There is hurt that she is trying to hide there. There is a pain that I am too familiar with. "But then he ran off with Tracey and I have no prospects; if that is what you are asking Mister Malfoy."

I think I understand the dame a little more. This is personal for her. This is the murder of the man she was meant to be with. She is invested in this as much as I am, if not maybe more.

Her golden doe eyes look up at me, even in her high heels, "I am not jealous of Tracey and actually I am Ian's godmother. I feel it is my duty to our families to get to the bottom of this, and I need your help. I need to know why he took that curse for you. I need to know why you are vested in this and how. There is a lot that I need from you and you need answers from me. So this is how we are going to start." All semblance of pain is gone, replaced by the stern demeanor that I thought only came from Catholic school nuns. "This is the basics and the how of how he died. This is me trusting you with the biggest secret in the world. This is where you need to trust me, if only for tonight. Then tomorrow, we will get to work."

I nod. It is all I can do right now. Dumbly nod. With that, I feel like I am pulled into myself through my belly button.