Chapter 13

"So, what do you want to do?" Hermione asked Draco after everyone had left the dining room after breakfast. Ron had a job at Fred and George's shop on Diagon Alley, and the two of them were alone until Harry came in a few weeks.

"I think we need to-" Draco stopped. "I need to research the history of a family member. She's been dead for a long time."

Hermione knew who he was talking about, but decided to humor him. "Okay, we can do that. It'll be easy; we're on Knockturn Alley. I'm sure we can find some artifacts."

Draco nodded, and he seemed preoccupied.

Hermione and Draco stepped out of number 56 Knockturn Alley onto the gloomy street.

"Let's hit Borgin and Burkes, Mr. Borgin hates my dad, he won't say a thing about my mysterious reappearance."

"Okay," Hermione said nervously, remembering Harry's wild tales of his misadventure with Floo Powder the summer before second year. The description of the Hand of Glory had given her nightmares for weeks upon end.


Borgin and Burkes was a dimly lit place with many glass cases that housed horrid objects that made Hermione's skin crawl.

"Oh, Draco, look," she said, pointing with a grimace at a jar of human eyeballs. A blue eye stared at her pointedly, and she felt as if they were watching her as they walked unsteadily toward the counter.

Suddenly, oily Mr. Borgin appeared at the counter, and his mouth dropped the moment he saw Draco.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Borgin exclaimed, "What a um… Pleasant surprise! How are you today, searching for anything in particular?"

"Yes, Mr. Borgin," Draco said, adopting a sophisticated and arrogant demeanor almost instantly. "But, I would prefer if you would not mention my visit to anyone, it would cause some consternation. Now, as I was saying, I am looking for some possessions that my father might have sold to you a couple years back…"

"Ah yes," Borgin said, his face lighting up. "Your father sold me a great many things that day, among them a beautiful ruby necklace, several deadly poisons, and my favorite of all the things I acquired that day; a fork that released noxious fumes."

"Do you know who the necklace belonged to?"

"I believe it was your late aunt's," Borgin said, and if he knew of the rumors, his face did not reveal it. "Beautiful rubies, I sold it to a young woman. I believe she was a Lestrange."

"There are few Lestranges left alive," Draco said. "Borgin, telling me which of the remaining Lestranges you sold the necklace to, would further improve your existence."

Borgin was clearly uncomfortable, but he knew how difficult Draco could make his life. "She was the daughter of Ingrid. I believe her name is Ninian."

"Ninian Lestrange?" Draco said sharply.

Borgin nodded frantically. "Niece of Rodolphus Lestrange, I understand you are well acquainted with Mr. Lestrange."

"Rather well," Draco said, examining his nails. "Very well." He tossed Borgin a few galleons. "If this information is false, I shall be very vexed. Good day Mr. Borgin."

Hermione and Draco swept out of the store, and back down Knockturn Alley.

"So, are we searching for belongings of your Aunt's?" Hermione ventured, although she knew full well that they were.

"Yes," Draco replied tersely. "We are. But first, we have to go to the desk, and find an address for Ninian. We also need to figure out who that desk belongs to."


The desk was open still, and the yellowing parchment spilled across the desktop. Draco quickly riffled through several labeled envelopes, and finally, pulled one out.

"Ah ha!" he exclaimed excitedly, pulling out the letter from within. His eyes skimmed over it.

"Marissa Malfoy," he proclaimed. "Owned this desk. Who she is, I have no idea. And let's see if dear Marissa owned a address book." He shifted through another pile of belongings and seized a black book embossed with her name.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"It's the address book," he said excitedly, pouring over the alphabetical list of names. "Here we go, Ninian Malfoy."

"Well, does she live near here?" Hermione asked.

"Number 23 Diagon Alley, Apartment 34, London," Draco replied, clearly overjoyed. "Just down the street! We can go now, you just travel a good ten feet behind me, and no one will ever know that we're connected."

Hermione jostled her way through the thickening crowd, and she could see Draco's blond head bobbing through the sea of people. She saw him disappear into a doorway, and she inconspicuously made her way there. She slipped into the doorway, and found Draco waiting for her in the shadow of the door.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly. She could tell that he was nervous. "You knock."

"Why me?" Hermione asked.

Draco looked flustered. "Well… I don't know, you just knock."

"Draco, she's your relation, not mine," Hermione said irritably. "You knock, for goodness' sake."

"Fine," he said after a long pause of uncomfortable silence. "We're going to regret this. He lifted the heavy knocker, and rapped the door several times.

The silence was deafening.

Finally, the door swung open.

A young woman stood in the door, her attractive mouth drawn into a seductive pout.

She smiled charmingly the moment she saw Draco, completely ignoring Hermione. Hermione felt her hackles rise.

"Hello, how can I help you?" the girl purred.

"I'm looking for Ninian Lestrange," he said. The girl frowned.

"Ninian is my older sister, I'll go get her."

The girl vanished into the house, leaving Hermione and Draco standing on the doorstep, in the deep heat of July.

"She's not trustworthy," Hermione growled.

"Hermione, stop it," Draco said tiredly. "I don't want to argue with you."

"You're really obsessed with this thing about Natalya-" Hermione realized her mistake belatedly, and covered her mouth in horror. Draco's eyes widened, and he stared at her.

'You know?" he choked out.

"I'm so sorry-" she gasped, "I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd react this way."

"Well, well," a voice came from the doorway. "If it isn't the infamous Draco Malfoy."


A/N: Leave a review, please. Please. Please. Okay, I'll stop begging for now, but you know what I want... :) Thanks all.