A/N: I own nothing but an over-active imagination.

Muggle Mysteries

As promised, Narcissa owled the following morning. Hermione cursed elvish wine as she made her way to the window, letting the owl in and taking the letter. She and Ginny had finished off the entire bottle the night before. And now, after an evening of hypothesizing what it would be like to spend an evening with the Malfoy heir, she was invited to tea with his mother.

She knew there was no use in trying to decline. Narcissa was as stubborn as her son, only politer. She owled her acceptance and began searching for something to wear. In the process, she wondered if she would see Malfoy, the thought making her much more mindful of the outfit she picked out. She wanted to look nice, not just for Narcissa, but for him. She found herself wanting to make sure he didn't regret the night prior. Didn't regret her.

Ginny was still asleep, and Hermione was grateful. She didn't want her causing the same fuss over her as she had prior to her dinner with Blaise. Their wine-fueled girl session the night before had done a great deal to settle Hermione's nerves. Not once had Ginny reprimanded her for taking a liking to the Malfoy heir. It had been as if the years of animosity between her friends and the blonde never occurred. There was no mention of house rivalries, of deatheaters, of war.

It had surprised Hermione greatly, her friend so willing to put such painful memories to the side and simply enjoy the moment. Ginny was right, never before had they sat up discussing boys, in all their years at Hogwarts or in the time since. Yes, there were times she had been a shoulder to cry on as Ginny pined over the Chosen One, in the years before he had the courage to act on his growing feelings for the red-head. And they rarely spoke of her relationship with Dean.

Hermione hadn't spoken much about Victor, to anyone, which is why everyone was so surprised when she accompanied him to the Yule Ball. She was not the type of girl to fawn openly over members of the opposite sex. Other than him, it had only ever been Ron who drew her attention, and it seemed an odd thing to discuss with his sister.

She felt guilty for not telling Ginny the full story. But Ginny didn't ask, and Hermione did not volunteer it. Lying through omission, she thought. They did not discuss altercations that occurred between the two over the course of the past few months, focusing only on his physical attributes. It was if they were discussing someone else, a nameless face in the crowd, the idea of the man.

Hermione knew Ginny would have reacted differently, had she divulged much else. Had she learned the true way her body reacted to him, the way she craved his touch, even now, she would have exploded in the way only a Weasley can. It was one thing to fantasize about a fit wizard, it was another thing entirely to give your body over to Draco Malfoy. Because that's all this was a purely physical desire. Nothing more. She hadn't been intimately touched by a man in months. It was only natural for her body to require attention. Wasn't it?

She tiptoed through their flat, careful not to make too much noise and wake her roommate. Making herself a cup of coffee, she drank it quickly before making her way into the living room and flooing to Malfoy Manor.

As she stepped through the fireplace, she was greeted by the sight of not just one, but two Malfoys. Immediately, her heart began to pound against her ribcage. They sat casually on a small sofa, and Hermione realized she emerged in a different room than before. Rather than the house's imposing foyer, she had immerged in a smaller, but still impressive sitting room.

Narcissa set down her cup of tea before floating across the room to her. Malfoy had been reading, and he sat the book down softly on the table to his right before following his mother. Their posture and mannerisms were different somehow, but she couldn't put her finger on the exact changes. Perhaps it was all in her head, and she simply felt they were acting differently. But then they greeted her.

Narcissa placed a soft hand on each of Hermione's shoulders, before kissing her lightly on the cheek. Before Hermione had much time to process the action, Narcissa was stepping away, and Hermione found herself face to face with Malfoy again. He bowed, low and stiff, before taking her hand, much as he had done the night before, but this time, the kiss to her knuckles was brief, and he did not linger before releasing her hand and stepping back beside his mother.

"It's a pleasure to have you for tea." He was all politeness and formality.

"Yes, dear. So good to see you this morning. Thank you for coming on such short notice. Seems we simply could not go without the pleasure of your company for much longer, I'm afraid." Hermione smiled tightly at her hosts. It felt like she had stepped out of the fireplace and into one of her Victorian-era novels, and she only barely stopped herself from looking down to see if her modest dress had transformed to include something more fitting, like a corset and bodice.

Hermione straightened and nodded toward the pair, trying to exhibit some sort of poise and grace, though she was certain she failed miserably. "Thank you for the invitation."

"Come, sit." Narcissa moved to her side, taking her by her elbow and lightly directing her to the now empty sofa. Malfoy waited for them to pass, before trailing behind. Once Narcissa had deposited a very confused Hermione on the sofa, Malfoy moved to her side, holding her hand as she took the seat beside her. He then moved to sit, in a plush high back chair to his mother's left.

Tootsie appeared with a pop, and tea was served. Narcissa tittered on about this and that, who was dating whom, upcoming social engagements, and things of that sort and Hermione couldn't help but wonder. Why the sudden change? Their prior conversations had been intelligent and stimulating. Hermione found this type of conversation tedious.

Malfoy sat quietly, for the most part, offering the occasional nod, or hum of agreement whenever he was addressed. Hermione was keen to steer the conversation away from high society talk. To be honest, she was rather curious about the Malfoys' recent reconnection with Andromeda and Teddy. Certain the disinheritance of Andromeda was a tender topic, she opted for beginning with young Teddy. At the first mention of children, Hermione made her move.

"Children do grow up so quickly, don't you agree? My, it seems like only yesterday we were putting young Draco here on the train to Hogwarts for the first time." She smiled fondly at her only child, and he, in turn, smiled meekly.

"Absolutely. I think Teddy has grown a full 3 inches since I saw him last." Narcissa's face lit up at the mention of her nephew, but Malfoy seemed to tense.

"He truly is a remarkable young boy, is he not? So full of life. I enjoyed meeting him very much. With that blonde hair, he reminds me of Draco." Hermione then turned her attention to the stoic wizard.

"He seems to like you very much. He doesn't change his hair for just anyone, you know?" Malfoy began to shift uncomfortably in his chair. Hermione was onto something, and she wouldn't stop until she unraveled part of the mystery that was Draco Malfoy. "Do you see him often?"

"Yes." She waited for him to continue, but he instead focused his attention on his teacup. He was not going to make this easy. She was not surprised.

"Since when?" The blonde wizard quirked one perfect eyebrow at her, a small smirk beginning to form on his face. She grinned back. He had caught on. He knew what she was doing, trying to catch a glimpse of the man behind the mask.

She saw it as a challenge. He saw it as a game.

"I don't fully recall," he set his cup down on the table and leaned back into his chair, every inch of him exuding confidence. "For some time now. I'm surprised you weren't already aware, Granger." She shivered at his use of her surname. It was the first time he used it all morning.

"I don't make it a habit to go prying into the lives of my friends."

"Don't you?" The smirk was full on his lips now, and a mischievous glint shone in his eyes. Narcissa sat silently on the sofa between them, watching the exchange with a smirk of her own.

"Are you counting yourself among them?"

"Among whom?"

"My friends, of course." Hermione leaned forward, no longer concerned with manners or etiquette. If he wanted to play, she was happy to oblige him. And she would win.

Malfoy leaned in, mirroring her posture, making the exchange feel more intimate than it really was, but at that moment, she forgot his mother sitting beside her. "I should think so." His voice was low, almost gravelly, and she felt it in her chest. She watched as his tongue darted out, moistening his bottom lip, causing her to bite her own.

A dainty 'Ahem' echoed through the room, and they both straightened automatically, eyes darting to the elder witch. She said nothing else, simply sipped her tea with a small smile. She did not move to change the conversation, so Hermione continued, slightly red in the face.

"I haven't seen you at any gatherings prior to last night."

"I prefer spending the time with my family alone." Hermione cocked her head thoughtfully. That made sense, especially since their reunion was a recent one. He had never even met his aunt until the end of the war she supposed. Reading the soft expression on her face, his smirk fell and was replaced with something else; not quite a smile, but something kind. "And aren't most of these gatherings at the Burrow?"

"Well," she started.

"Is this the part where you tell me my invitation was lost in the mail?" Hermione opened her mouth, but no words came out. He was right. And she felt foolish, but as she looked into his eyes, she found no malice there. No resentment, but something more akin to, acceptance?

She suddenly felt a need to lighten the mood, their conversation weighing heavy in her chest. But she could not abandon the conversation entirely. He had let her in, ever so slightly. Shared something real with her. For her to change topics now might appear a rejection, and he would never let his guard down again.

"No, you're too intelligent to believe some excuse as silly as that. So, tell me, do you always arrive bearing gifts for your cousin?"

"Why yes, dear. Draco dotes on him wholeheartedly, much to my sister's dismay I believe. She is under the impression he aims to spoil the boy." Her voice was light and somewhat teasing as she raised her brow at her son. Malfoy bristled at her words, and Hermione wondered if this was some sort of praise common among purebloods.

"Yes, well, the boy should have the best." Typical, Hermione thought. Some things about Malfoy would never change. He always enjoyed flaunting his family's wealth. She rolled her eyes, but then returned her gaze to Malfoy. He had slumped slightly in his seat, the volume of his voice lowering as he continued. "He will be the head of our families one day."

What did he mean? Hermione tilted her head again, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Narcissa's body language had changed. No longer was she poised formally on the seat beside her. Her body was tense, angled toward her son, as she fixed him with a meaningful stare. She watched in awe as a non-verbal discussion occurred between the two. Only their eyes moved, ever so slightly, and she wanted more than anything in this moment, to know what was being said.

As the silence lingered, she began trailing her eyes across the room, finally landing on the table to her right. There sat the book Malfoy had been reading, and she gasped audibly as she read the cover.

P is for Peril

By Sue Grafton

It was the exact book she had given Andromeda. At first, she was shocked a muggle book would be allowed in the pureblood home, much less that one of its residents would deem to read it. But then, she was overcome with a wave of anger. Had he stolen this book? Surely, he must have. How else would it have come to be here, today?

She picked up the book and began waving it at Malfoy. "And just where did you get this?" Her outburst interrupted the inaudible conversation between mother and son. They both turned to look at the object in Hermione's hands. Narcissa's face was calm, no shock or question in her gaze, but Malfoy looked slightly amused, that was until he registered the fury in her voice. Then it became defensive, as did his tone.

"The table, just there." Her irritation grew.

"Obviously," she drawled, "seeing as that's where I picked it up. I mean, how did it come to be in your possession? Did you seriously nick my gift to Andromeda?" His jaw clenched, and she could see the vain in his neck pulsing with each beat of his heart.

"Are you really accusing me of theft? In my own home?" The tone of his voice was severe, but Hermione, sure in her deduction, did not back down.

"How else would you have a muggle novel?"

"I PURCHASED it!" he roared, and Narcissa moved to settle her son, an arm reaching out to his leg, but he stood then, and in two large strides, stood in front of Hermione. He ripped the book from her grip, tucking it into the crook of his arm. "For Andromeda to be exact. But as I learned last night, she had already received a copy." Hermione inhaled sharply and held the breath in her chest. Oh no, she had done it again. She jumped to an incorrect assumption based on her own prejudices. The gears in her head began to turn, seeking to connect the dots of the information laid before her.

She exhaled slowly, her voice barely audible. "Your personal business in muggle London." It wasn't a question, but she still looked to him for confirmation, and her stomach knotted at the sneer on his face. He didn't respond, only stared at her with cold grey eyes before turning to his mother.

"Excuse me, Mother. I'm not feeling well." From this new angle of his face, she could see his temple pulsing, his eye twitching minutely. She remembered Harry's telling of his late-night meeting with Malfoy in the Library, and her eyes traveled down his face where his jaw and neck muscles tightened. He had moved his hands to his pockets as well, and her heart sank. His headaches. Had she caused this?

Without another word, he turned from the two witches and stormed out of the room.

Hermione felt her eyes well up with tears. She had done it again. How many times was she going to ruin the progress she and Malfoy were making. Every time, she had done something, said something accusatory, sending him away. It was almost second nature, and she never knew what was happening until it was too late.

She turned to Narcissa, and the elder witch looked her over with a pitying expression. "I'm so sorry, Narcissa," Hermione whimpered. "I'm sorry. I just, I didn't think-"

"For such an intelligent witch, Hermione, you seem to have a hard time seeing what is right before you." Hermione hung her head, ashamed of her own behavior. "If you will excuse me, I need to go check on my son." Hermione knew it was time for her to take her leave. So she did so, muttering more apologies as she made her way back to the fireplace.

Narcissa watched her carefully as she retreated, only acknowledging her apologies with a nod of her head. Once in the fireplace, Hermione looked back to her host, drying her tears with the back of her hand. "I know he's furious, but please, tell him I really am sorry. I should not have accused him like that."

"No, you should not have, however," she paused, and Hermione could feel a tiny spark of hope within her. "Some preconceptions are so deeply ingrained within us, from such a young age, that they are difficult to overcome. But it is not impossible. All one needs is time, and an open mind."

As Hermione returned to her flat, she could not help but feel Narcissa was speaking on more than just the book.