CHAPTER TEN: Mr. Gentry's Diaries

"The Study" in Malfoy Manor was, expectedly, far grander than any normal study, but not in a cavernous, expansive way. It wasn't a massive room, but it was tall, with dark, finished bookshelves carrying countless leather-bound tomes upward into shadow and the scent of wood. A dead fireplace waited at one end, its creeping fingers of ash being proof of the existence of fire (once upon a time). The mantle was brooding and heavy with things that once had significance. A couch of leather sat in the midst of the study, cold-looking and cracked with neglect. Also, for mid-afternoon, the study seemed very dark.

"Luminos," said Lucius with Narcissa's wand, lighting all the wall-sconces at once. An encroaching cobweb puffed into flame near a sconce and faded away. Hermione threw open the heavy curtains and coughed as sunshine slanted through the dust, prompting her to open the window. Air rushed through the study, hurried by another open window somewhere in a nearby room, and the sound of flipping pages joined the rustle of curtain fabric. Momentarily caught up in the sudden breeze, Hermione leaned out of the tall window to gaze over the chaotic grounds that had become dotted with budding pale green.

"Spring is coming!" she had to say.

Lucius didn't appear displeased by the notion.

"So it is," he said, and he joined her at the window. It was wide enough for them both, and so he leaned out beside her. After a few moments he asked, "I wonder if any of the rose bushes made it?"

"The rose bushes?" she inquired.

She tried to see what he was seeing, but she only saw a tangle of vines and overgrowth. He continued to peer at the distant stand of ground, but then turned his back to the window and leaned on the sill.

"Yes, some were several hundred years old," he said, and she blinked.

"You're kidding me," she said.

"Oh, please. We live in a magical world. Is that really surprising to you?" he asked.

She laughed, because of course it shouldn't be.

"Sometimes I'm still surprised," she said, "by things that I thought were impossible in my childhood."

He crossed his arms and seemed to be considering her.

"I'd never thought of that," he said.

"Of what?" she asked.

He gave a glance to the countryside over his shoulder and said, "None of this has ever been surprising to me. How could it be? I and my ancestors have had this taught to us since the beginning of time. It's almost as if I was born knowing it."

"But you," he said. "You got to discover it yourself."

Hermione looked out at the sky to think.

"I wonder what that was like," he said, regarding her.

She smiled a little and gave him a teasing glance.

"Are you … jealous?" she asked.

He smirked at her.

"It should be obvious that my position gives me the ultimate advantage," he replied.

She gave him a very elaborate eye-roll just for his enjoyment and left the window for the study proper.

"Where do you keep them?" she asked.

"Keep what?"

"The diaries of Peter Gentry which you clumsily filched," she replied.

"I did not 'clumsily filch' anything," he insisted. "I 'cleverly borrowed' them… without asking."

"Ha," she said.

"They're here," he said, making for a desk which was opposite the leather couch on which Hermione deposited herself. For a moment, Hermione felt strange as she realized how comfortable she felt around Lucius sometimes, and she couldn't logically puzzle out why. Yet, she felt so very uncomfortable around him at other times.

"Which one do you want: 1998 or 2005?" he asked, approaching the couch and holding both diaries in front of him.

"Clearly 1998 is the best choice," she said. "Wouldn't reading 2005 just be nosy?"

"Isn't reading either of them nosy, regardless?" he asked.

"Point taken," she said, taking 1998 anyway.

He claimed the other end of the couch and they settled into the companionable silence of reading an unsuspecting man's most personal thoughts and feelings.

July 12, 1998

Dearest Diary,

It has been such a day. First, Fezzik kept me up half the night with his meowing. I don't know why he meows sometimes like that. Does he want out? Does he want in? Does he just want somebody to talk to? It drives me up the wall, though, because going to work after that is always lousy.

Today was especially bad. The Malfoys seemed to implode after the war, one misfortune after another, this most recent being the worst. Not that I mind; I never liked the Malfoys and don't know many who ever did, even the ones on their side in the war. The worst part for me was having to clean up after the mess they left behind.

Shacklebolt seemed the most agitated about last night's murder, what with Mrs. Malfoy handing over Deatheater names right and left for the past month or so, seems he lost his best informer and it made him a real pill to work with all day. I guess the Deatheaters got sick of Mrs. Malfoy's informing the Aurors of their whereabouts, because the two perpetrators the house caught had the robes and all. I'd never seen Deatheaters up close, and I have to say they weren't all that nefarious-looking, really. I wonder if they were just regular bottom-feeding thugs that got roped into it, or something, because they really didn't seem all that brilliant, especially not smart enough to plan to murder Mrs. Malfoy all on their own. The whole affair smacked of something off, though, because I don't know how they snuck in easily enough to kill Mrs. Malfoy but weren't clever enough to get out of the room, even.

The off thing mostly seems the house, and I hope I never have to go in Malfoy Manor again. The whole place gives me the willies. I'll close this case tomorrow without setting foot in the manor, it doesn't matter anyway, the one Malfoy left has lost his mind and nobody else cares…

Hermione sighed as she read it.

"What is it?" asked Lucius.

She certainly didn't want Lucius to read it.

"Oh, it's just, um," she said poorly, flipping the pages.

"Did you find something?" he asked, putting down his diary.

"He does refer to it," she said vaguely.

Lucius gave her a look.

"What?" she asked with an uneasy weight-shifting, but she gave in. "Yes, yes. He talks about it, at length."

"Good," said Lucius.

"It's just… I don't like the way he talks about it," she said, almost muttering by the end, picking at a crack in the couch leather.

"Oh," said Lucius, looking amused. He added dryly: "It isn't nice?"

"Don't patronize me," said Hermione, turning away to reopen the diary in privacy. "The two Deatheaters they found seemed like regular fellows, so they probably weren't behind it. Shacklebolt was angry, because Narcissa had given up so many Deatheater names and I suppose he'd come to rely on her knowledge. The bottom line, though, is that nobody cared enough to do a thorough investigation."

Lucius was quiet for a while, until Hermione decided to steal a glance in his direction.

"I honestly wasn't aware Narcissa knew of very many Deatheaters left on the run," he said. "I didn't, anyway."

"Oh," said Hermione, for lack of anything else to say.

"I guess, though it may seem odd to you," he said. "We ran in somewhat different circles, as it were."

"You… did?" asked Hermione, finding this unexpected. "Were there that many circles to run in that the two of you could have such different circles to frequent?"

"I suppose," said Lucius. "There were subtle differences."

Hermione exhaled and regarded Lucius, not sure what to make of this new information.

"Lucius," began Hermione, before halting.

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you a question that may seem very personal but may or may not have a lot of bearing on this investigation?"

Lucius gave her a side eye. He clearly didn't want personal questions anywhere in this vicinity.

"Please?" she asked, trying to toe the line between puppy-dog eyes and total professionalism. It wasn't easy.

"Fine," said Lucius with a long-suffering sigh.

Now Hermione had to figure out how to ask it.

"I was wondering… if you could perhaps tell me, maybe, about, um…," began Hermione terribly.

"Oh, just spit it out," groaned Lucius.

"Was your marriage happy?" she spat out.

"Why?" asked Lucius, straight-faced. "Are you coming onto me?"

"Thwaaauugghhh!?" cried Hermione, spitting nonsense, dropping her book, and nearly falling off the couch. "Of course not! I would never! How could you think tha-."

It was only then that she saw his bemused look as he pretended to return to perusing Mr. Gentry's diary.

"You jerk! You charlatan! You disparate!" she yelled, picking up Mr. Gentry's other diary and throwing it at him. He laughed as he tried to avoid getting stabbed by sharp edges.

"Distraction: failed," she proclaimed. "Now, give me a real answer."

"No, thank you," he replied simply.

"What if it's important to the investigation?" she asked.

"I doubt that very much," he said.

Hermione sighed at him.

Lucius looked at her for a moment, then put the diaries down and stood up to go gaze out of the window.

"I hope you won't discount my belief in your slight improvement at not behaving like a golem," he said.

"Stop trying to distract me," said Hermione, single-minded.

"It's too much to ask, I suppose," he said.

"I know what you're doing," she insisted.

"And you were doing so well," he sighed.

"You'll not dissuade me," she said.

"Hermione," he said.

"How was your relationship with your wife?"

"Stop that-."

"Tell me."

"Hermione."

"You're obstructing justice."

"Then call the Aurors," he replied sharply.

Hermione stood up and kicked the old couch.

"Why do I even bother?" she asked, the question coming out rhetorical, and then made for the door. Maybe Luna would have something worthwhile to say.

Lucius cleared his throat as she reached the doorframe. She stopped, and turned, and he was looking not-at-her.

"Terrible," he said, his voice reflecting painful admittance, and almost too quiet for her to discern.

Finally, something. Something. She wondered if more could be forthcoming, and so she came to him at the window and regarded him, waiting for more. He seemed to be looking again at the stand of tangles where there once were roses. She couldn't know for sure.

Enough time passed until he shifted his gaze to her, and it was a mixture of resentment and loathing. She didn't know if it was resentment for her, for his situation, or for having to divulge such a thing. Maybe it was a mixture of all of the above and a few more things she didn't yet know.

"It was terrible," he said with more strength this time, but seemed even less happy about saying it. She knew at once that this was his least favorite thing in the world; admitting weakness.

He looked down and away, outside.

"What more do you want?" he asked quietly, resentfully.

There were more layers than she thought to the tragedy of the Malfoy family. It was impressive the level to which they had, as a family, appeared to be perfect and in control for so long.

She moved to sit across from Lucius on the windowsill, and she leaned against the side. He kept his eyes outside, though she could see they were dark with controlled anger.

"Thanks for telling me," she said.

"Don't," he clipped, "thank me."

"Yes, but-."

He stood abruptly and called for the house elf as he strode for the door. Porgy appeared in an instant.

"Yes, master?" asked Porgy.

"Clean this room, please," he ordered.

"Yes, master," said Porgy, and then he glanced at Hermione. "And how many for supper?"

"One," he said, and to end his pause at the threshold, he added: "Good evening, Miss Granger."

He left and she realized that she had been dismissed.

-oOo—

Outside, Hermione tamped down the cruddy feeling she got from being summarily dismissed in such a cold manner by tromping across the wild front grounds of the manor with purpose. At least she could talk with Luna, and Luna wouldn't behave like … like a man experiencing lots of tragedy and suffering terribly for it and maybe he was justified in being a little emotionally unstable or dismissive or whatever he wanted to do because he'd just had terrible things happen to him. But whatever.

She kicked a rock. She didn't know why he always rubbed her the wrong way, and why she couldn't forgive him for being who he was, or why she was impatient with him for not telling her everything she wanted to know. It was frustrating, really, because she never knew what to think around him, if he was lying to her or honest, or if he was manipulating her or just trying to work with her, or if he was holding back vital information that she needed to use or just suffering. She just couldn't bring herself to trust him, and why should she? Whyever would she, in a million years, trust that man? She had no reason to do so. The bottom line was, he would do whatever he felt was necessary in order to serve his own ends; he had even said as much to her. For Lucius Malfoy, there was no such thing as morality. Everything to him was relative, and she didn't know how to deal with someone so quicksilver.

She didn't feel like they were even on this count, either. He could know where she stood, because she had a sense of what was wrong and right, and that didn't change according to her circumstances. Her behavior may change, but that didn't change what she believed… she'd just feel guilty about it if she crossed her beliefs. He didn't have that problem, and thus he wasn't as predictable in his behaviors because he could change at any moment if his reason deemed it necessary. He also would never be as grounded, perhaps.

Upon what did he ground his life? What was his foundation? Was it his family? Himself? What could it be he was even fighting for? And what was she to do with this new information about his marriage to Narcissa?

If his foundation was his family, then it surely wasn't his marriage. Perhaps he had held out hope that his marriage could be saved, or maybe he was the one that didn't care for Narcissa. Maybe it was Draco that he was ultimately fighting for, and his possible future posterity. The biggest problem with knowing how to answer any of these questions is the only thing Lucius had told her is that his marriage was "terrible", and that could mean an endless variety of things. More frustration.

If he would just cooperate with her like a normal human maybe she could get somewhere in this investigation!

"You look miserable," said Luna, and Hermione realized she'd arrived at the front gate. The statement broke Hermione out of her funk and she huffed a little laugh due to the silliness of it all.

"I think I made Mr. Malfoy angry," said Hermione.

"This isn't breaking news," said Luna. "I assume you'll do the same again tomorrow."

They laughed.

"Do you know what day Mr. Malfoy cast any of the wards?" asked Luna. "Did he mention any of them to you?"

"Yes, this one," she said, raising her bloody hand wryly. "He cast it the same day he was brought here."

"Mm, the ugly muggleborn ward," murmured Luna, inspecting the unseen separate wards that brushed against the inside and outside of the manor grounds. "Interesting…"

"What is it?"

"They seem to be almost exactly the same age," said Luna.

"What are you saying?"

"Well," said Luna. "Basically, the muffling spell was cast just before the muggleborn spell. Maybe the same day."

"Do you know who did it?"

"No!" said Luna enthusiastically.

"Um, no?" ventured Hermione, not sure how to take her response.

"But," said Luna, holding up a finger, "I do know the wand. Yew with centaur hair core."

"Length?"

"Erm… that's impossible to know," said Luna, until: "Unless... Hermione, what is the length of Narcissa's wand?"

"No idea."

"Well, find out, and then I can compare the signatures and maybe I could pinpoint the length… approximately."

"Luna, you're kind of a genius."

Luna just laughed.

"Chances are, however, that we're not going to find two people who were working on the case that had yew wands with centaur hair core, regardless of length," said Hermione. "In fact, I wonder how many people have that sort of wand at all. Probably not many."

Luna shrugged. "Probably not, so it's a place to start," she said. "So if we find the person who cast that muffling ward, what does that tell us?"

"I'm not sure, yet," said Hermione. "But I have some suspicions about… things."

Luna grinned at Hermione. "Care to share?"

"For one… did you know the Malfoys' marriage was terrible?" asked Hermione.

"No," scoffed Luna. "I didn't. Although, I never thought about it much, actually. I just assumed they were united. They seemed very concrete at first glance."

"Well, it was. They had a lousy marriage," said Hermione. "And that opens up some possibilities."

"What kinds of possibilities?" Luna asked carefully.

"Familial subterfuge, of course," replied Hermione.

Luna narrowed her dreamy eyes, and then turned to start packing up her things for the day. For some reason she wasn't saying anything, and that wasn't like Luna.

"What is it?" asked Hermione.

"I have a feeling this is going to get very messy," she said, sticking a book in her satchel.

Hermione chuckled, but Luna clearly wasn't joking, so Hermione's chuckle turned into an exasperated sigh directed at her friend.

"Well, isn't it already?" asked Hermione, shrugging at the sky over Malfoy Manor.

Luna finished and slung her bag over her shoulder, returning her gaze to Hermione.

"This is the calm before the storm," said Luna simply.

Hermione found that ludicrous, there was nothing calm about any of this. She was just about to voice that very opinion when Luna stopped her by raising her hand.

"Hermione," she said. "You do what you do best, and that's figure things out. And I'll do what I do best, and in this case, I'll be gathering Nargles."

"Nargles?"

"I'll see you tomorrow, Hermione."

"Wait, Luna, you-," said Hermione

There was a pop and Luna had apparated, leaving Hermione alone with the large, unkempt Malfoy blackened gate, and the vines, and the sound of an early spring breeze in budding leaves. Somewhere a small animal scrabbled in undergrowth and a pebble shifted.

"You hate Nargles," muttered Hermione.

-oOo—

A/N: I had to Nargles. Possibly one of my top five favorite parts of the series. I have low standards.