CHAPTER ELEVEN: MORE STUFF THAT HAPPENS
That night Hermione was alone in her flat when she was alarmed by a loud noise at the window. It was an owl. Since when did she get so antsy about things like owl noises? She opened the window and retrieved the bird's note.
"Ftloo!" said the owl.
"Ahem," said Hermione, unrolling the parchment.
Dear Miss Granger,
Please forgive that I have owled you directly at your flat; I realize it is a breach of privacy, as we hardly know each other, but I believe you need to know what has happened.
You may recall I am the secretary in the Ministry's Recordkeeping and Archives from whom you borrowed a file several days ago, which I was quite pleased to be able to allow you to borrow and look through anonymously, since you are, after all, who you are, and well known for your adventurous and heroic exploits, even though they, at times, extend below the board and require the clandestine. I must admit I'd experienced something of a thrill at being involved, even minutely, in one of your adventures.
Hermione looked up at the owl with a wry glance.
"He's kind of cute," Hermione told the bird.
The owl blinked.
"But too young," she sighed.
"Ft-lt-loo," said the owl.
"That would just be scandalous," she said, chiding the owl for its insinuations. She went back to the letter.
However, today quite the unexpected has occurred, in that the very file you borrowed has been requested for review by the Ministry! Imagine that, after nearly two decades!
Hermione swallowed.
It is an amazing coincidence which chills me to my very bones. I was to bring it to them today, but was able to put them off by pleading scheduling difficulties and a number of other roadblocks barring me from fishing it out from the 'extensive archives', but I cannot put them off for another day without arousing more (and perhaps too much) suspicion toward both of us. Please bring the file and meet me tonight at the Leaky Cauldron.
Mr. B
"Oh, crap," said Hermione.
The owl attacked a spider on Hermione's windowpane, and the spider stood no chance.
"Crap, crap, crap, crap," said Hermione, rising and cramming her hands in her hair.
Someone was suspicious of something. Someone at the Ministry knew someone else was nosing around in the Malfoy case and that someone seems to not want that someone else to be doing what she was doing. At that moment, it became clear to Hermione that she hadn't been nearly as sneaky as she should have been all of this time. It pained her how easy it seemed for anyone at the Ministry to find out Hermione had been working a job at Malfoy Manor, and that she'd just asked for an extension, and maybe even that she'd gone to question Draco Malfoy and Peter Gentry. She just hoped nobody was able to put all the pieces together too quickly so she could create a plan before all heck-in-a-percolated-handbasket broke loose.
Maybe it never would. Maybe somebody just needed that file, coincidentally. HA.
Despite her failings in covering her tracks, she realized Mr. Bennet was even worse than she. She grabbed parchment and quill.
Dear Mr. Bennet,
I don't believe it would be wise for us to meet at the most prominent pub in Diagon Alley, do you? Be at the entrance to Knockturn Alley (oh, when did Knockturn Alley become a place where she would meet someone? Merlin-curse that Lucius!) at nine and make sure no one sees you!
H.
She all but threw the owl out of the window in her haste and anxiety. It was time to put her own owl to use, so she grabbed it down from the closet and scrawled out two notes:
Luna,
Something's going on, but I don't know what. Someone at the Ministry is moving on this but I don't know who or why. That said, be careful, and act benign. You always are, anyway. They are asking after the file, for unknown reasons. I'm returning it to the secretary tonight… thus far he's been willing enough to keep it secret. If you want, you can meet us tonight at the Manor around nine… otherwise, I cannot blame you if you stay at home.
Hermione
oOo
Lucius,
I thought I should give you fair warning that I will be descending upon you tonight around nine o'clock. Probably with company. There are unexpected things happening and I need that file from the Ministry. I also may need your expertise in navigating complicated subterfuge. Please be ready.
Regards,
Hermione
After a moment's thought, she expel-erased the word "Hermione" and replaced it with "Miss Granger".
"There," she breathed out, despite tension coiling out from her like invisible springs.
Both letters finished, she sent the owl straightaway and stared after it in the night. The headlights of a car passed on wet pavement as the scent of a brief shower rose from the road. The night seemed so normal. But it wasn't anymore.
-oOo—
During the intervening hours, as Hermione prepared for she-didn't-know-what, she tried to work out in her mind all of the possible reasons why this file was being requested now, and she came to a few disarming conclusions.
One, whoever asked for it must be aware that someone else was snooping around the Malfoy case to some degree. Two, whoever asked for it is probably familiar with it, and three, it's possible that whoever asked for it believes it to have incriminating evidence in the file somewhere. As she had looked through it, Hermione hadn't found anything significant or at all incriminating, besides the lousy, half-baked way the Ministry closed the case (which was kind of not at all). Maybe the file needed a second look-through tonight before giving it back to Mr. Bennet. Did this mean that someone in the Ministry might have been guilty of wrongdoing in the case of Narcissa's murder? Did someone in the Ministry murder her?
Hermione, for the life of her, couldn't imagine why anyone at the Ministry would want to murder Narcissa Malfoy, hander-over-er of a multitude of Death Eater names. Unless that person was a Death Eater him- or herself? Now it was just getting mind-bending.
The final tidbit that she knew about this was that whoever had requested the Malfoy file was a person who had the clearance to do so. There, unfortunately, were more than a few people with that particular clearance. Maybe Mr. Bennet could help. Hermione really hoped that he was the sort of person to get swept up in a cause and ignore the rules for a little while. Kind of like her.
She had a feeling a lot of this could be worked out if they could access Draco's memories, but as it was, Draco's memories were locked up in an insane asylum. Turning off screaming warning bells in her head, she floo-messaged Harry from her fireplace.
"Hey, Hermione!" said Harry, happy as always to hear from his friend.
"Hey, Harry," she said with a smile, maybe a bit anxious.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"Could I possibly borrow your invisibility cloak for a day or two?" she asked carefully.
"That sounds suspicious," he said.
"Right, and could you maybe not mention it to anyone?" she asked.
"Um," he said. "Sure?"
"And maybe just don't tell anyone we talked at all?" she continued with a placating smile.
Harry then just laughed.
"I'm afraid to ask," he said.
"I'll fill you in if I make it," she said wryly.
"I bet you're not even fully joking," he said.
"Well."
"I'm jealous," he said with a grin.
That made her laugh ruefully.
"I'm not," she replied.
"I'll send it over with Hedwig," he said. "But you do have to fill me in… if you make it."
"Thanks, Harry," she said, meaning it to her bones.
"If you need me, you know where I am," he said.
She smiled.
Now that's a real friend.
-oOo—
At exactly nine-o-one in the evening, Hermione poofed into existence at the entrance to Knockturn Alley. The usual suspects were looking suspect in the usual places: a gnarly hag here, a skinny no-good ruffian there, but over there, standing stiffly, was a tallish young man whose fair-and-tawny bloom couldn't be fully hidden by a cloak hood, no matter how dark. She approached like a shadow.
"Mr. Bennet," she said quietly.
"Miss Granger!" he said, and he seemed disarmed by her presence.
"Come with me," she said, taking his arm, and before any more could be said, she had apparated away with him to the gates of Malfoy Manor.
"Are you pureblooded?" she asked him directly beneath the looming black gates. Removing her own hood, she saw him take her cue and do the same.
"Where are we?" he asked without answering her, and looking around. "What have you gotten me into?" His dark eyes returned to her.
"Mr. Bennet," she insisted. "I assure you this is all for the best."
"What is all for the best?" he asked her.
She sighed.
"Do you trust me?" she asked him.
He looked down at her as his lips hesitated in forming a response.
"I suppose I should… you're Hermione By-Merlin Granger, after all," he finally said, but he seemed less secure than his words.
She took his hand and tried to give him an assuring look; the look from a person who is incredibly trustworthy. She had no idea if she failed or not.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Thomas," he replied.
"Will you call me 'Hermione'?"
He exhaled slightly and said, "Y-Yes."
She squeezed his hand and asked him, "Thomas, are you a pureblooded wizard?"
"I am not," he said, and then he asked: "Am I going to lose my job?"
"With luck, no," replied Hermione, pulling out the flask of Lucius Malfoy's blood.
"With luck?" he asked dubiously as she smeared a dab of blood on the back of his hand. "What are you doing? Hermione-,"
She cut him off by grabbing him by the lapels and pulling him in for some straight-talk.
"Thomas," she said directly, and he fell silent into a gaze, his light but warm scent wafting over her, and she realized he was very attractive and at the same time she realized she wanted to punch herself in the face for even thinking that. He was at least ten years her junior. She promised herself a good lashing later for stupidity and pressed forward.
"Listen to me," she said. "It is possible that we are uncovering one of the biggest cover-ups the Ministry has ever seen, and there are people who don't want us to do that. We need to act fast, and we need to act smart, and though I would prefer that you didn't have to be mixed up in this, it looks as if you are. I need your confidence. Will you give it to me?"
He let out a ragged breath and sighed, "Yes."
Hermione smiled and released his cloak, brushing it down to smooth the creases. "Good, good," she said, working to use the vial on herself. "We're at Malfoy Manor, and this blood protects us from an especially powerful ward that would make life very uncomfortable for us without it."
"Why are we here?" he asked.
"This is where I keep the file," she said. "And… something else."
"What something else?" he asked.
"You'll see," she sighed, pulling him up the lane towards the entrance to the manor.
"Miss Granger!" exclaimed Porgy at the door. "The master is expecting you in his office."
"Thank you, Porgy," she said.
She walked the halls of the manor like someone who knew the place, and who belonged in the place, and briefly wondered how she came to be so comfortable with it. The truth was, it seemed like the manor felt a little different than it had the day she and Luna discovered Lucius in the dining room. It seemed less heavy.
"Who is 'the master'?" asked Thomas, full of doubt.
She put her hand on Thomas' sleeve to stop him in the hallway and gave him a wry smile.
"Thomas," she said. "You are going to have to trust me. This is all going to seem very strange, but please… trust me."
Thomas sighed at her, and he was even cute when he did that.
"Fully," she added, ignoring cuteness. "Please? I need you."
That seemed to convince him, and he put his hand over hers on his sleeve. She couldn't help but glance down at it.
"This is possibly the craziest thing I've ever done," he said. "But I will."
She smiled, cleared her throat softly, and carefully extracted her hand. Oh, Merlin.
"Come on, then," she smiled.
They entered the office with the bustle of business about them, and Lucius rose from his desk the moment they arrived.
"Miss Granger," he said by way of greeting. She noticed, perhaps due to Thomas, the contrast of Lucius, his white-blonde plait over his dark-clad shoulder, and his hard wisdom juxtaposed by innate grace. His eyes landed on Thomas and he asked, "Who might I ask have you brought?"
Lucius' voice held a controlled undercurrent of threat that Hermione perceived at once.
"Holy Merlin, Hermione," said Thomas, gaping at Lucius.
"Ahem," said Hermione.
Lucius' eyes narrowed as Thomas said her name.
"This is Mr. Thomas Bennet, Lucius," said Hermione.
Thomas stared wide-eyed in disbelief at Hermione as she said Lucius' name.
"This is Lucius Malfoy! How do you have Lucius Malfoy?" he stammered.
"She doesn't 'have' Lucius Malfoy," said Lucius Malfoy.
"It's like he fell right out of an old picture!" Thomas continued. "Oh my cripes!"
"Mr. Bennet works at the Ministry as the secretary for Recordkeeping and Archives, Lucius," said Hermione, forging on.
"And here I assumed he was only your severely under-aged beau," said Lucius blandly. As Hermione spluttered to reply, Lucius went on: "But as Secretary to Recordkeeping, he should be quite useful to us."
"Useful to you?" Thomas asked, then turning to Hermione. "Have you switched sides?"
"There are no sides," said Lucius at once. "The war is over, or didn't you know?"
"Well, I know," said Thomas.
"Then stop saying things that make no sense," said Lucius.
"Lucius!" chided Hermione, then she turned to Thomas and said, "Lucius has travelled through time."
"Then he's not reformed at all?" said Thomas, glancing sharply at Lucius.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," spat Lucius, losing patience.
"Thomas!" hissed Hermione, pulling his lapel in order to do a best job she could do in having a private word with him while Lucius was five feet away. "This is not about the war and I should say his time in Azkaban was reforming enough, as well as the fact that his family switched sides in the war, to the right side, if you recall."
Thomas looked Lucius up and down.
"It was awfully convenient, really," said the younger man, "switching sides at the end."
Lucius' expression darkened dangerously.
"Thomas, I have asked you to trust me and you said you would," said Hermione, taking him by the sleeve.
Thomas gave her a hard look, then seemed to give up something with a sigh. "Yes, I will."
"You are to trust Mr. Malfoy as well," she said.
Thomas made a strained noise.
She pulled his sleeve.
"Thomas? Please?" she asked. "If you do, we'll tell you everything."
He closed his eyes for a moment, and then released a small, wry (and adorable, but she blocked that part out) smile.
"Very well, Hermione," he said. "I suppose I'm your lamb for the slaughter, aren't I?"
She laughed softly and said, "Of course not!"
But she noticed he was blushing.
"Well, then," said Lucius, reclaiming his seat behind the desk, "shall we fill Mr. Bennet in, or would you two like to continue flirting indecently until the Ministry sends us all to Azkaban?"
Thomas cleared his throat and said, "Please begin, Mr. Malfoy."
-oOo-
A half an hour of explaining, a multitude of exclamations of disbelief by Thomas, and at least seven backhanded asides by Lucius about her robbing the cradle later, they'd finally finished bringing the Ministry Recordkeeping Secretary up to speed.
"And so there you have it," said Hermione. "We're solving a murder mystery that desperately wants to be solved."
"But someone equally desperately doesn't want us to solve it," said Lucius.
"I'm not equipped for this," replied Thomas, looking dazed.
"Sorry I'm late!" yelled Luna as she bustled into the room wearing what looked to be her pajamas.
"Luna!" cried Hermione, giving Luna a hug for the sole reason that she was relieved to have another woman present. Lucius and Thomas were exhausting her for some reason.
"Oh, hello Thomas," said Luna. "I didn't think you knew Mr. Malfoy."
Thomas smiled at Luna, and a fairly brilliant smile it was. Then he blushed. He blushed?!
"Mrs. Longbottom," said Thomas. "Good to see you."
"You know each other?" asked Hermione.
Luna shrugged and smiled. "I used to babysit Thomas!"
Oh, now wasn't that just fan-freaking-tastic. She noticed Lucius trying to contain his smirkage, and she narrowed her eyes at him threateningly. If he threw out another ridiculous aside about Thomas being too young for her (which he was), she would find the nearest thing, no matter how sharp, and throw it right smack into that smug look on his face.
"Good times," said Thomas, still blushing, and she began to wonder if Thomas was a serial blusher.
"So!" exclaimed Hermione, wanting to change all of the subjects. "We should go through the file again. We really should."
It was true.
"With a fine-toothed comb," agreed Lucius, pulling it open on his desk. "Oh," he said, pulling out Narcissa's wand and pointing it door-ward. "I've been working on this. Accio tabula!"
Somehow, the large corkboard from the dungeons came through the doorway and affixed itself on the wall. There'd been an extraordinary amount of work done with it, with articles and pieces from the file, theories and questions, and strings and magical push-pins connecting things together filling at least two-thirds of the board. Hermione was enraptured at once and rose to gaze, rapt and drooling, upon its scintillating glory.
"How did you learn to do this?" asked Hermione breathlessly.
"You told me," replied Lucius, flipping through pieces of the file in his hands, and handing parts off to Luna and Thomas.
"But you're so good at it!" she cried.
"In this case, I should say I am driven to succeed," he said.
"So you would be," she said softly, touching one of the papers. "I have something to add."
She moved to Lucius' desk and took a quill and parchment and wrote:
Muffling ward erected just before on same day, yew with centaur hair core
She then posted that next to "Time travelled 18 years into the future". Lucius stood up, staring at the paper. He moved around his desk, his eyes not leaving the scrap of parchment.
"Earlier that same day?" he asked.
"Mn-hmm," said Hermione, brushing the quill through her fingers.
"That's strange," he said.
Hermione looked at the paper. "It is?" she asked, glancing back to Lucius.
"Although, in general, we were treated as prisoners in our own home," he said, "they always informed us when they were going to put a ward around the property. Something about Ministry rules."
"Considering you weren't legally prisoners," said Hermione.
"Exactly," said Lucius, turning to look at her.
"That's true," called Thomas from nearby, where he was sitting on the hard, green velvet couch with Luna, perusing file papers. "They couldn't legally put wards up around your home without your permission unless you were formally prisoners of the Ministry."
Lucius didn't bother acknowledging Thomas, and instead said to Hermione with a wry look, "We were just informal prisoners."
She gave him something of a half-smile.
"Still," he said, exhaling and regarding the evidence on the board, "They always asked permission… at least I thought they did, until now."
"Well, we know it was the house that time-travelled you," said Luna. "So we know it didn't have anything to do with that."
"Even though it was on the same day," said Lucius.
"Perhaps it wasn't a function of the muffling spell," said Hermione. "But possibly the time travelling was a consequence of it."
"Why would my house send me so many years into the future because of a muffling spell?" asked Lucius.
"It probably wasn't the muffling spell that directly endangered you," said Hermione. "The muffling spell was probably set to keep you from being aware you were in danger… from another source."
Lucius sighed and put his hands on his waist as he stared at the board.
"By the way," said Hermione. "Do you know anyone who has that kind of wand?"
"Maybe," said Lucius.
"I-I do," said Thomas, piping up from the couch.
Everyone turned expectantly on Thomas, who had the nerve to blush… adorably.
"Well?" asked Lucius.
"The, um, Minister of Magic," said Thomas.
Luna started laughing hysterically.
"Who is the Minister of Magic?" asked Lucius, who wouldn't know, of course.
"K-Kingsley Shacklebolt," said Thomas, looking nervous, especially at Luna, who was still laughing. "I really am going to lose my job, aren't I?"
"You've just proven yourself useful to me for the first time," said Lucius. "Consider it a triumph."
Luna got gradual control over herself and wiped a tear from her eye.
"I'm sorry," she said breathlessly. "I sometimes react that way to shock."
Thomas looked extremely uncertain about all of the life choices he had made for the past week.
"Okay," said Hermione, taking up the mantle of reason. "He wasn't the Minister of Magic at the time, he was working as Head Auror. If the Aurors had a reason to muffle Malfoy Manor, it very well could have been wholly legitimate."
"That's true," said Luna.
"So we're not accusing the Minister of something horrible?" said Thomas, heaving a sigh of relief.
Luna patted Thomas on the back. "Poor thing," she said.
"We just don't know," said Hermione, and she met Lucius' eyes. "There are some pieces of the puzzle we're missing, and we need to get them from Draco."
"I've adapted a penseive, but I don't know if it will work," said Lucius.
Just then there was a sound downstairs, and a change of pressure, as if the Manor doors had been opened.
"They're here," said Lucius, moving immediately into action, as if he'd been expecting this, whatever this was.
"Who? Who's here?" asked Thomas, jumping up.
"Shh," was Lucius' short reply, and he grabbed a satchel from behind his desk.
Porgy's voice could clearly be heard from downstairs, as if the elf had cast a throwing spell on his voice to keep them aware of what he was saying.
"No, Miss Granger and Mrs. Longbottom aren't here, because it's late and they're home and probably asleep," said Porgy.
Miss Granger and Mrs. Longbottom shared an equally wide and this-is-trouble look, and Hermione got her bag and threw it over her shoulder as Lucius minimized the corkboard in a pretty miraculous way and stuffed it in his satchel.
"Why, yes, of course you can search the manor, why wouldn't you be able to?" said Porgy's voice. "Mind the wards, though."
They could hear tromping from downstairs. Lucius pulled out his wand and whispered, "Deluminosa!" and all light extinguished in the entire wing, the curtains closed, and the air grew cold and dusty. Distant voices murmured beyond recognition, but close enough to make Hermione want to shriek and run screaming. But these were the good guys! These were men from the Ministry, or Aurors! Why should she be afraid of them? Hermione never had thought in a million years she would be afraid of the Ministry, but right now she was drop-dead terrified of what they would do to her, if she were discovered.
Lucius shifted beside her, pulling something out of his satchel.
"Everyone touch a side," he whispered low, holding a pewter mug by the handle.
"A portkey?" whispered Thomas.
"Just do it!" Lucius hissed. They just did it.
"Might Porgy fetch a snack for the visitors?" asked Porgy's voice in the hallway, not even needing a throwing spell anymore. There was movement in the hall, of people with greater weight than Porgy's, and Hermione shivered and bit her lip and locked with Lucius' gaze.
His lips parted and she watched him whisper-sigh, "Persephone."
There was a sharp gasp (was that her?) and her stomach was pulled out from beneath her, and she was pulled, drawn, stretched, from one fear to another through the nether and into fresh, dark, mist-filled air, the scent of salt and new grass, and the sound of pounding water.
Her feet hit the ground hard, but she found she'd been held by a firm arm which was clenched 'round her waist with the scent of autumn and a thousand memories. Released the moment they'd all landed, she stumbled a little in disorientation.
"Don't fall off," said Lucius from nearby.
She looked down and saw beneath her feet young grass in the dark, and below, a thousand feet of drop and distant white foam on midnight-blue waters. The vertigo made her moan and she fell aside onto her knees, avoiding the sight of such heights and staring at the grass. She closed her eyes tightly.
A hand took her by the arm and hoisted her up, and Thomas' concerned (adorable) face filled her vision.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"Mn," she said, turning away from the drop. "Just… I don't like heights very much."
"Understatement of the century," said Luna, amusement in her voice.
Hermione cast her eyes up and allowed her vision to be swallowed by the endless stars. It was a different sort of vertigo.
"Where are we, Lucius?" she asked, dropping her gaze to find him.
He stood some feet off, immoveable and dark, except for the tendrils of white-blond coaxed free by the wind and illuminated by starlight. The pewter cup rested loose in his hand by his side. He had already been watching her.
"Do you not recognize the Cliffs of Moher?" he asked.
He'd portkeyed them to Ireland?!
-oOo-
A/N I was sick so I got to update twice in a row. Yay for being stuck in bed with a computer? The mystery unravels a bit more! WHO DID IT WHOOOOOOO. It was the squirrels in the yard.