He's already there when Hermione arrives the next morning. Malfoy is exceptionally punctual, she's noticed. Never late, always early, exactly at the agreed place in a prompt fashion. If she were ever held at wand point and asked to name one of Malfoy's redeemable qualities, she thinks that punctuality might be her answer.
A shame that it would be her only answer.
He's leaning against the wall again, left leg crossed over the other at his ankles, tall frame languorous. Today he isn't holding the Prophet. Which is curious because Hermione hasn't seen him with any other reading material in all her time at the ministry, always with a newspaper tucked under his arm.
Curious because Malfoy is reading a book.
Curious, because the book is muggle .
The sudden swoop in her stomach is enough to have her halting half way down the corridor. Said feeling only grows as her eyes catch on the cover and she realises-
Malfoy is reading a Terry Pratchett novel.
She can't tell from this distance which one exactly. The cover isn't one she recognises, (perhaps a reprint?) and her curiosity is suddenly at a mountainous peak as she moves closer to try and read the cover, about to topple over the edge-
Disappointment floods her as Malfoy notices her presence and snaps the book shut, swiftly filing it away in his satchel. Smoothes over her frown as quickly as she can into a placid one.
"Granger," he greets in his usual, almost disinterested tone. As with the previous day, his slate grey eyes appraise her briefly, lingering on the coffee holder in her hand, two cups nestled in it.
Oh, yes. Right. The plan . To be the complete opposite of how she normally is- be so insanely polite he loses his mind.
"Malfoy," she responds in her usual tone, then clears her throat quickly before adding, "Good morning! I hope I haven't kept you waiting long."
Hermione feels her heart thrum with triumph as Malfoy gives her a slightly confused, questioning look at her chirpy tone- Well, as confused and questioning as his occluded self can produce. But it is enough to spur her on, and she smiles, a spritely, warm smile.
Doesn't think she has ever smiled at Malfoy in such a way, and the evidence is written all over his face. Oh yes , he looks positively flabbergasted now, (which in a Malfoy expression is mildly surprised).
He seems to have entirely forgotten to respond to her question, but she doesn't bring it up. Instead, she unlocks her office door, and steps inside. He follows, his gait slow and effortless as he enters behind her.
Hermione plops the coffees onto her desk carefully, accompanied with cream and sugar from the little brown bag she'd carried in, and then takes her usual seat behind the desk. Malfoy eyes them with clear suspicion now.
He hasn't sat down.
"Granger, what are you doing?" he asks dubiously, sharp.
She makes a show of confusion, furrowing her brows.
"What do you mean? I'm not doing anything," her reply is succinct, genuinely polite.
His jaw ticks, and Hermione has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smirking.
"You're up to something," he says, eyes flickering over her face and then to the two coffee cups on the desk, " whatever it is- it's not going to work."
Hermione waves her hand dismissively, pulling one of the coffees out of its holder.
"Well, when you're done being erroneously suspicious of me, Malfoy, I'd like to get started on the case," she replies carefully, pulling out several tiny folders and laying them on her desk.
With a quick flick of her wand, the folders triple in size, and she takes a sip of her coffee. Chances a quick look at him over the brim.
His jaw ticks again, and she wonders if he is grinding his teeth. She looks at him expectantly.
Finally, he swiftly takes a seat opposite her. Hermione smiles at him.
"Oh! I almost forgot," she says, tugging the brown paper bag closer to herself. Quickly, she pulls out a plastic container filled with a few croissants, and one perfectly green apple.
The latter of which she places lithely in front of Malfoy.
" Granger -"
"A peace offering," she responds politely before he can even formulate his question.
Malfoy's lip curls up slightly, a half sneer.
"Unless you've entirely forgotten, Granger, you already tried that yesterday," his plummy accent is out in full force now, lilted with subtle mockery, "and somehow you still managed to be unsatisfied with my response."
Hermione only shrugs, letting his words wash over her.
"True, but I thought it might be worth trying again," she replies. "Consider it an apology for yesterday- as well."
Malfoy looks like he might be formulating a response, something that might put an end to her cheery charade and so Hermione pushes on.
"Harry was right; we need to work together on this one," she explains, and even if she is intentionally being overly polite, she still means every word, "Our- differences in opinion shouldn't jeopardise the case."
Malfoy quirks an eyebrow at her use of "differences", but does not object. Simply put, he seems to actually agree with her.
A good start, then.
"Now, I've had some thoughts on the case," she says, flipping open one of the folders and scans through it again to be sure, "I've looked over the reports and I can't see anything on the locations where the bodies were found."
Malfoy is quiet, other than a sound Hermione presumes is him throwing the apple back and forth between his palms. Slightly irritating, but no matter.
She ignores it, instead perusing the first file again.
"See," she says thoughtfully, "It should be here, included on page 46 just before the scene photos- Which is awfully odd because it might help us figure out the Mosp migration patterns- Was it just not included for some reason? Perhaps-"
Her monologue of thought is interrupted then, by a solid crunch and a sigh that sounds awfully like-
Her eyes snap up to discern what exactly the sound is and her jaw pops open.
Malfoy is-
"What are you doing?" she verbalises, her voice coming out an octave higher than she'd have liked.
Malfoy pauses in taking a second large bite of the apple, his teeth slightly bared.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" he remarks, quirking an eyebrow, "I'm eating the apple you so kindly gave me."
"Could you not do that at any other time?" she questions indelicately, then coughs and adds, "It's just- the sound is quite grating."
The upturn of his lips increases, and Hermione can see this conversation playing out before it even happens.
"Not at all, Granger," he retorts, and he sounds thoroughly amused, "it would be ill-mannered of me- and besides, you seemed profoundly upset that I didn't eat the one from yesterday."
Hermione can feel her eyes narrow even before her brain has caught up.
Oh, so that's how he's playing it then.
She feels really rather daft for not having considered it earlier.
"Please, Granger, do continue," he adds, dipping his pointed chin towards the case files.
She resists the urge to glower at his command, but restrains herself and turns her attention back to the files.
"So, any idea where the locations are? Or did you ignore everything I just said?"
Malfoy takes a second bite of the apple with another obnoxious crunch, even as his other hand is pulling a file from his satchel. Hermione's eyes treacherously flit to his lips- his teeth as they tear into the fruit. Wonders if he's aware the apple residue is glazing his bottom lip and making him look stupidly unkempt-
"An error on our field agents' part meant we didn't get the exact locations until this morning-"
Wonders as he speaks if he'll wipe the residue off or just let it sit there glistening .
"The locations are on page 7," Malfoy indicates with his forefinger, and Hermione's attention is abruptly snapped back to the file.
"Right," she says, taking another tentative sip of her coffee.
Gazing down at the sheet of parchment Malfoy has pinpointed, Hermione is presented with the image of a map- a map of London, to be exact, she frowns.
" All four attacks were in London?" She asks, just for the want of clarification.
Malfoy nods simply.
"Yes, but as you can see, they're spread out," he points to each one as he speaks, "one in Whitehall, one near Great Scotland Yard, one in Wembley, and one in Greenwich."
Hermione hums in thought.
"Honestly, a Mosp migration is nowhere near this far spread. They only head inland during the winter months from Scotland and even then, they would never get this far south-"
"And considering it's August and all four victims weren't allergic-" Malfoy is leaning with his elbows on the table, now, expressionless.
"It must be deliberate. An act of vengeance or- a warning of some kind," Hermione continues, frowns deeply at the map in front of them.
There's something familiar about the locations on the map, but Hermione can't put her finger on what it is. She's seen something like this before, she knows it.
A book maybe? Or a scroll.
But there's definitely something. She opens her mouth to voice this, when she is abruptly interrupted again by another crunch.
Hermione's eyes snap up again to Malfoy, who doesn't look at all apologetic. In fact, he looks suddenly rather amused, which would have made her strongly voice how rude of him it is, given the situation- if not for the fact that he swipes his tongue across his bottom lip at the same moment her eyes land on him.
Her first thought is that such an act is entirely too bloody salacious for the workplace- for Malfoy, even. Her second is that she just used the word salacious to describe something Malfoy had done and she instantly feels a prickle of disgust at the notion.
Her third, as she sees the pink of his tongue run over his stupidly perfect bottom lip, is that perhaps she had been wrong and the prickle of disgust might not have been disgust at all-
"Enjoying the view, Granger?" He says with what she can only describe as triumph etched into his features, "I don't blame you, really, I am quite brilliant."
Nope, definitely disgust.
"If you are quite done," she says, praising Merlin when her voice comes out even, "we need to focus on-"
"The case, yes, I do know Granger," he says, and the amusement in his expression vanishes, replaced by a solid mask of indifference.
One day, Hermione thinks, she'll ask him about his occlusion- why he does it, why it looks so easy for him. She doesn't doubt he'll ignore her, brush her off, of course. But she can't help being curious.
"Right, well," she says, pushing one of the files between them, "we've established that these attacks aren't just accidents, they're not random, so what's our next move?"
"We look at the victims," Malfoy replies, matter of fact, "what they had in common, every little detail."
Hermione nods, and Malfoy pulls out four neatly stacked files.
He pushes two towards her and then flips the first one open in his palm, his jaw set, sharp.
They sit in silence as they go over the victim notes. After a while, Hermione looks up, wanting to compare findings.
Malfoy has propped the file open in his palm, his left leg crossed over the top of the other. His sharp features are set tightly, lips pursed as he takes another bite of the apple, and Hermione thinks he looks quite-
She doesn't finish the thought. Won't.
Definitely, definitely, definitely disgust.
"Surely you must be able to tell me something," Ginny is saying later that evening as they both curl up on Hermione's couch, "something, anything , I'm dying over here-"
The redhead makes a very dramatic show, throwing herself over the arm of the couch. Hermione sighs in a humorous fashion.
"Okay, okay, fine ," she says, and takes a quick swig of her wine, "I have to work with Malfoy which is entirely-"
"I already know that part," Ginny replies quickly, "tell me something interesting about it, you know Harry can tell me even less and it drives me bonkers."
Hermione nibbles on her lip, contemplating.
"I'll give you one thing," she says and Ginny is immediately edging forward excitedly, "but only one."
Ginny nods feverishly and Hermione quickly finishes off the glass of red she'd been nursing. She stands, much to Ginny's intense disappointment, the ginger groaning immediately.
"Give me a sec," Hermione says mirthfully as she nips into her flat's open plan kitchenette to pour herself some more, "are you sure you don't want any? I hate to drink on my own."
This gives her pause for thought, because normally Ginny joins her, and in fact it was her redheaded friends turn to bring the vino-
"I'm sure," Ginny says, leaning across the arm of the couch, "now tell me the sordid details of this case you're on, our Friday night is slipping away."
And so Hermione settles against the counter of her kitchen worktop and relays one (or two, when Ginny pesters her enough) tidbits about the case.
Normally, and to anyone else she would never divulge facts on a case. But she's come to trust Ginny, almost as much as she trusts Harry. She's been on the opposite side, once, the same side as Ginny, before Ron quit the Auror program to do Quidditch full time.
But she won't think about Ron, or that time in general. She won't. Even as her heart hurts, thudding painfully against her chest. She won't .
"Wow, so all of the attacks were here?" Ginny says, her brown eyes wide, "that's insane."
"Yeah and each one was at a different location, so it can't be a hive, unless it's multiple, of course," the end of Hermione's sentence is drowned out as she takes a particularly big swig of her wine.
Do not think about Ron, she chides herself mentally.
"I've never even seen a Vampyr Mosp before," Ginny says thoughtfully, "what do they look like?"
Thankful for something to focus on, Hermione scuttles back to the couch.
"Sort of like a combination of a bee and a wasp, big antennas, huge bloody stinger, some of them are bright purple-"
"Sounds grim, like one of those comic thingymabobs," Ginny comments, and Hermione agrees, overjoyed at the redhead's interest in muggle culture. Mosps are a weirder kind of magical beast, but one that is entirely unnerving to see.
"Hey, well at least you told me anything about the case at all," Ginny continues, grabbing the bowl of popcorn off the coffee table, "Harry's never allowed to tell me about the cases he's on."
And although she says it with a glint of amusement in her eyes, there's a wedge of dejection in her voice, too.
"Speaking of which," she says vehemently, "Harry was up until four in the morning the other day for some case he's working on, again."
"Really? When?" Hermione asks, and she can't place which day herself, because Harry always seems tired at the moment.
"Tuesday," Ginny relays, "at least he'll be taking some time off soon."
"By soon you mean next week, for your birthday trip?" Hermione asks, taking another sip of her wine.
"Yeah, it'll be nice to get away for a bit," Ginny replies, lolling her head back against the top of the sofa.
"What day are you going, again? Sunday?"
"Yep, Harry booked it, I didn't particularly fancy carting him up to Spain whilst he's hungover after tomorrow but what can you do," the redhead shrugs slowly and Hermione laughs spiritedly. "At least it'll be good with him not working on any cases. Really, I'm glad he's not working on the mutant wasp case with you at least."
Hermione laughs again, her cheeks aching from it, and watches the red wine swirl around her glass. Mutant wasps. She wonders if Harry was the culprit of that particular colloquialism-
Mutant wasps.
Mutants .
Hermione gasps, almost dropping her wine in her haste to stand.
Ginny is looking at her, baffled.
"What?" She says as Hermione promptly sits her glass down and stalks over to her shoe rack. "Wher-"
"You're brilliant," Hermione replies, pulling her boots on, and Ginny's confusion grows, "Merlin, how did I not see it earlier -"
"What do you mean, Hermione? See what earlier?" Ginny's voice is edged, and she's standing too, now. Hermione pauses in the act of pulling her coat on, to glance at her reassuringly.
"Don't worry Gin," she says, a rushed smile on her face, "but I've got to go- you've given me an idea for the case-"
" Bloody hell, " Ginny replies, and the line makes Hermione's heart twinge slightly, but she doesn't falter in her ministrations, tugging her zipper up, "Don't overwork yourself again-"
"I won't," Hermione insists and Ginny gives her the look. The one that says she doesn't believe a single word, but the redhead doesn't say anything in response, just pulls Hermione into a quick hug.
"I'll be fine, I promise," Hermione continues, stepping away and grabbing her bag, "but this is important and I can't ignore it-"
"Just promise me you'll be there tomorrow, for my birthday, okay?" Ginny says, fetching Hermione's journal and a pack of sugar quills from the side table, "you need a break too-"
"I know."
Hermione slips both personal effects into her satchel.
"Feel free to watch the movie without me, I won't be long." She says, gesturing towards her TV.
Perhaps she should feel more upset about missing Grease night, but her mind is entirely too focused on everything-
"Where are you going?" Ginny asks when Hermione doesn't head towards her fireplace, instead marching to her front door.
"Malfoy Manor."