A/N: Hello readers. This is a story which came to me while writing The Mudblood Lover. I've been itching to write it for months now but I wanted to take it one story at a time. It takes place one year after the Battle of Hogwarts. I don't intend for it to be more than 100,000 words (significantly shorter than T.M.L) Enjoy the first chapter! Let me know what you think :) Also I'll be updating/finishing the other shortly.
The invitation didn't come to her by owl, nor did it arrive by normal post. It was couriered to her by a queer-looking wizard wearing a white top hat and a large fur coat.
"Good evening," he bowed. "My name is Hugo Sinister. I'm here on behalf of my employer, who has a most intriguing proposition for you."
Handbag still slung over her shoulder from a long day's work she stuttered, "H-how did you…?" Hermione looked around her flat, to see if anything else was amiss, her hand instinctively curling around her wand. "You're trespassing," she spat, the tip of it now pointed at the intruder. He ignored her and fell elegantly onto the divan folding one leg over the other.
"Come now Miss Granger, "he drawled. "A mysterious wizard awaits you in your home with a mysterious proposal from another mysterious wizard…" His eyes danced with excitement. "You must be filled to the brim with questions."
Hermione blinked in disbelief. He looked pointedly to the sofa seat adjacent to his. "Do sit," he insisted as if this were his house and she was merely a guest. When she made no move to drop her wand arm he let out a heavy sigh.
"Right then," he said looking quite disappointed. "Clearly you're not interested. I'll be on my way. I've left the invitation on the kitchen table," he paused. "In case you change your mind, that is."
Her eyes narrowed on him with suspicion as he gathered his fur coat and let himself out through the front door, giving her another polite bow. Hermione waited till the door was banged shut before she cast a locking spell and put up more wards. The first thing she would do tomorrow morning would be to report the incident to Harry and Ron. Huffing she removed her robes throwing them in a careless heap onto the sofa. Her fame had done her no favours the last year. Hermione was constantly hounded by fangirls and young wizards who awed at the girl who saved the Wizarding World. She was disgusted by how easily those who had disdained her blood status before, now acted as if they never had.
She made her way into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge door. It was as bare as her cupboards and though she'd never admit it to anyone, she secretly longed to have the convenience of having meals pop up magically in front of her the way it used to during her years at Hogwarts. While she was happy to have moved back to Muggle London into her parents old flat, it was lonely here without them. At least she was relatively close to Harry, Ginny and Ron, who were all residing at Grimmauld place. Harry had offered her one of the rooms but living with Ron when they had just begun to date seemed like a mistake-in-the-making.
Thumping the fridge door closed she pulled out a kitchen chair and sunk into it. There had been cheese and some stale bread leftover, so she made do with that for dinner. Maybe, she thought, as she chewed on her bread, she would move into Grimmauld place after all. She and Ron had called it quits a few months ago, or more along the lines, that he had. It had been quite sudden really. One minute they were in love and the next Ron was telling her that he wanted to take a break. When she demanded a reason he had none to give her. Harry and Ginny were just as surprised as she was. Hermione chalked it up to nerves or a momentary lapse of judgement.
Moving into Grimmauld place might close the distance that had come between them recently. He was actively avoiding her. He denied it but she knew in her gut that he was. Hermione picked up her plate to clear the table. Underneath was a letter. She stared at the offending object, her name written in perfect cursive. Setting her plate back down she fell back into the chair, her fingers toying with the paper edges.
It couldn't hurt to read it, she supposed. Tearing at the envelope she pulled out a blank piece of parchment. Just what the—?
"Oh, bugger!"
She felt the familiar tug at her navel and then in an instant. She was gone. When she opened her eyes again she was in a room, facing a wall lined with immaculate bookshelves.
"Ah," hummed a voice. "Thank you, Hugo. Right on time."
Hermione swivelled around, her hand reaching for a wand she didn't have.
Hugo Sinister gave his employer a low bow, doffing his hat, "Always a pleasure Mr Malfoy…" And then he left with a curt nod of dismissal. Hermione stared with trepidation at Lucius Malfoy as he sat back in a large armchair, his hands coming to steeple. The fire crackling behind him the only sound in the room.
"Miss Granger," he said pointing to the seat opposite him. "I'm so glad you've accepted my invitation."
"Accepted?" she hissed. "You brought me here. This is more like kidnapping."
He gave her an amused smile. "Hardly. You were curious enough to open the invitation and activate the port key."
"If I'd known it was from you I would've set it on fire," she spat. "You're a slippery one aren't you? This is what—the second time you've managed to evade Azkaban?" She stepped forward nearer the writing desk. "Tell me, Mr Malfoy… I didn't quite catch the trial. Who was it you gave up this time? It wasn't your own son, was it?"
His calm demeanour faded and his lips pursed.
"Are you quite done?" he asked softly.
"No!"
"Sit down Miss Granger, holster your anger for a moment. I'm about to make you an offer you can't refuse."
Her eyebrow quirked up.
"I seriously doubt that."
"I take it that a witch as informed as you has heard of the Disappearing Isles of Bryn.
Hermione raised her chin proudly. "You'll find I've heard about a lot of things Mr Malfoy."
"How would you like to be part of an expedition to find it?"
Hermione released a snicker. "It looks like you haven't done your due diligence. It's purely legend… a myth."
His lips tugged into a smug smirk. "I assure you, it is not." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "I have seen it with my own eyes."
"I don't believe that for a minute."
"I am not here to beg Miss Granger. I will make my offer and you are free to accept or decline it. The others have all agreed. There is one last vacancy on the vessel and it is yours if you choose to do so. Forfeit now and I will offer it to someone else."
Her ears practically pricked up. "Others?" she demanded. "What others?"
"I've chartered a crew," he said with a tight smile. "I believe you know them. The first I recruited, and the most important, was Mister Longbottom."
Hermione tried not to look surprised. "Neville?" she repeated.
"The second," he continued without pause, "was Luna Lovegood. She accepted immediately." Cocking an arrogant eyebrow, he drawled, "It seems that unlike those who do not believe, Miss Lovegood finds beauty in the things she has yet to understand."
"I don't believe you."
"Oh but it's true. They've signed a binding contract. Your dear Potter too."
Her eyes squinted, trying to decide whether he was lying or not. "Harry?" she baulked. "You expect me to believe that you asked Harry?"
He threw his hands up in defeat. "What would a multi-million galleon expedition be, without the famous Harry Potter?"
"Harry would have never agreed to work for you!"
Lucius snapped his thumb and three parchments appeared out of nowhere falling onto his desk, one on top of the other. He turned it around and once more gestured for her to take a seat. This time she took it, devouring the words in front of her, voraciously. Hermione recognized Harry's messy handwriting, Neville's neat letters and Luna's artful calligraphy, their names, signed at the bottom of each individual contract.
"And Ronald?" she asked, though she didn't know why she thought of him at that moment.
"I do hate to break up the dream team but Mr Weasley was not deemed worthy.
Hermione felt her cheeks flair with anger but she held her tongue. Lucius Malfoy was baiting her and she wouldn't allow him to manipulate her. Suddenly he was placing a similar contract in front of her.
"Why makes you think I'll sign this?" she said shoving the parchment back.
"Oh," he said looking genuinely apologetic. "I only assumed that you'd want to ensure that your friends returned safely."
"Excuse me?"
"The expedition could take weeks, months… that is if they return."
Grinding her teeth, she hissed. "What do you mean, if?"
"It's made transparently clear in the contract that I am in no way liable for any danger that befalls them. Ask Mr Potter if you like… the stipulations were made clear." Her eyes fell to Harry's name signed at the bottom of the parchment. None of this made any sense and yet that was his name, in his handwriting. There were so many questions churning over in her mind. Yet one weighed on her the most.
"Why?" she bit back angrily. "What do you think we'll find there? Gold?"
He scoffed. "For someone so astute, you can be absolutely insipid. The Isles of Bryn are islands made of pure magic. You can not dream to know what resides there..." Hermione's brows furrowed as she tried to recall what she knew about the Isles of Bryn. They were, she remembered said to disappear, never to be in the same place twice. There were a few wizards who claimed to have found the island and then there were those who had disappeared trying to find it. Anything else had fallen from memory.
"The cartographer knows what it is I am looking for," said Lucius, interrupting her thoughts. "It is no concern of yours what I want, only that you make sure he gets there."
"Why me?" she pressed. Because he could've chosen anyone else. Why her?
"Your intellect," he said matter-of-factly, "and of course, your Gryffindor bravery. But above all, your golden heart. I know you'll ensure everyone returns safely..."
Hermione abruptly stood. "No," she said with steely reserve. "I decline your offer. I know what you're doing, how you're trying to manipulate me by using my concern for Neville, Luna and Harry— but as I said, I don't believe you. I don't think there's a second person lined up to take my place. I think I'm it and if I refuse then it isn't my post which is forfeit, it's the entire expedition."
Mr Malfoy watched her for some moments, his eyes looking searchingly into hers. Finally, after a considerable amount of time, he said, "You are as shrewd as my son described—" Hermione bristled at the mention of Draco Malfoy and at the blatant compliment. "—perhaps I can't manipulate you, but I can most definitely tempt you."
Hermione began to walk to the same wooden door she'd watched Hugo Sinister leave through. Her hand was on the handle when she heard him say, "Would you like for your parents to remember you?"
Her fingers suddenly felt cold against the brass doorknob and her heart began to race as he spoke.
"There is a simple memory restoration spell of which I know. On its own it is useless— with the restorative properties of a rare plant, it works miracles."
Turning around, Hermione reluctantly walked back to the table and retook her seat. She had lost hope that her mother and father would ever look at her as their daughter. He had, in fact, made her an offer she couldn't refuse.
"It grows abundantly on the Isles of Bryn. You'll need to uproot the plant without letting it die, which can be quite tricky. Mister Longbottom will be able to assist you with that…"
She didn't miss a beat. "When do we leave?" she conceded.
He released, what Hermione thought was a sigh of relief. "Tomorrow at dusk."
"Tell me the spell."
He titled his head, studying her, thinking. "I will gladly do so once you've brought me back what I want."
"How can I trust you?"
He looked gravely at her. "Can you afford not to?"
Hermione signed the contract.
Feeling as though she'd lost something intrinsically valuable to her by yielding, Hermione made one last effort to maintain the upper hand.
"You impress me, Mr Malfoy." His eyes snapped to hers, attentive and expectant. "You sat opposite me for a good ten minutes and didn't once sneeze, 'Mudblood.' Suppose I'm not contagious after all."
His reaction was not at all what she expected. He stood up a lot more gracefully than she had and offered out his hand. Hermione stared at it dumbfounded. There was an awkward moment of indecision on her part. If she didn't take it, she'd seem petty and small and if she did, well who knows what might come of shaking hands with the devil.
She took it slowly, cautiously.
"Thank you for coming, Miss Granger. It was a pleasure." Without another word between them, she withdrew her hand and made for the door. It clicked shut behind her and she found herself in a darkened hallway, portraits lining the wall, the figures staring quietly at her. The last time she'd been at Malfoy Manor she had been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange and barely made it out alive. Would she make it out a second time around?
A quiet rustle to her right gave her a startle. Her eyes were wide, her hand on her throat staring at the figure in the dark.
Draco Malfoy was leaning against the wall, his foot crossed at the ankles, watching her, still as stone. Her hand fell to her side, her breathing evening. She opened her mouth to speak but faltered. The last time she'd seen him, was at the Battle of Hogwarts; he and his family had kept to themselves after that, rarely ever making a public appearance.
Swallowing down the cold shiver running down her spine she began making her way down the hall, away from him.
"You're going the wrong way," she heard suddenly.
Hermione pressed her eyes closed in embarrassment. She turned, clearing her throat and steeled herself to walk past him. He hadn't moved from his position against the wall, but his eyes followed her, as did the eyes of all those who resided in their portraits. She was passing him when he turned, the movement catching her eye. "It's the second fireplace on your left."
She lifted her gaze to meet his. They were deep pools of silver, something in them, made her uneasy. Perhaps it was the discomfiture of having Draco Malfoy catch her sneaking out of his father's study late at night.
Inclining her head, she said thank you.
It was only a few hours later when she was replaying the night over in her head did she realize that Draco had not demanded to know what she was doing in his home. In fact, he had known she was there. He had been waiting for her… which meant that he knew about his father's expedition.
With these muddled thoughts, she tossed and turned before falling into a troubled sleep.