A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews, favorites and follows! Huge thank you to lanamarymack and Angela 007 for alpha/beta reading this chapter, too!
Please let me know what you thought of chapter seven and be on the lookout for chapter eight soon!
Being called into her boss's office at the end of the day on a Friday was enough to make dread settle in Hermione's belly. Her mind immediately began to catastrophize as she imagined being fired from her position at the Ministry and then all the dominoes that would fall afterwards. She wasn't blind — she knew that witches didn't remain in the workforce for long. She just couldn't believe that they were going to push her out.
Making her way into Undersecretary Switch's office, Hermione was surprised to see Becker sitting there already. Merlin, had she finally gone too far on correcting his memos and reports? Had he gotten fed up with her and decided to run it up to their manager?
"Ah, Miss Granger, please have a seat," Undersecretary Switch said, his face the picture of neutrality, giving her no hint of the direction of their little meeting. "I'm sure you are wondering why I've called you both in today."
Hermione squeezed her hands together tightly in her lap, until her knuckles went white. "Yes sir, I'm more than a bit curious," she admitted. She looked to Becker to see if he could offer any reassurance, but found that he looked as bewildered as she felt.
"I'm afraid that I have to be the bearer of bad news," Switch said, with a forlorn voice. "Your investigation into Borgin and Burke's has been dropped."
"But sir—" Hermione said, certainly not expecting to hear that.
Switch held up a hand to quiet her. "I know how much work you've already put into this, so I am certain that you are more than a little bit disappointed," he said. "But it turns out that the tip we had was no good after all."
That had Hermione's alarm bells ringing. According to their informant, Borgin and Burke had recently begun trafficking in cursed objects that were created from Blood Magic. This was particularly dangerous because the Blood Magic meant that entire lineages could end up cursed. She'd read a lot about Blood Magic for her own curiosity and as such she knew how serious it could be for someone unpracticed to accidentally harm themselve . Not only that, but the informant was more than good for their tip.
"Sir, with all due respect, that tip was good, and you know it," Hermione said, willing to go to bat for their informant. "Becker — you know who it is. Tell him," she prompted.
"Granger is right, sir," Becker said. Even though they might have their differences, they both knew the seriousness of the claims involved. "The tip was good. More than good, actually."
Undersecretary Switch gave him a smile that didn't meet his eyes. He was an old man, nearing retirement. He did very little to rock the boat. "I know that's what you think," he answered, somewhat patronizingly. "But I have it on good authority that the tip is no good. So your investigation will cease, effective immediately."
Hermione fumed, hating that he wasn't listening to them. He should listen to what they — the people who had actually been in the field investigating — thought. The worst thing that would happen was that the facts would show that the claims were unsubstantiated.
She wanted to argue more, but Switch seemed to realize that all and stopped her before she could get out another word. "This is not up for argument, Miss Granger," he said, firmly. "Now, I've been quite pleased with your work ethic. I would hate to have to write you up for something like this."
Biting her lip until she nearly bled, Hermione barely stopped herself from saying what it was that she really wanted to say to the man. Anything she'd admired about the man was instantly evaporating. Instead, she stood from the chair so abruptly that she nearly knocked it back and stormed out of the room.
Becker followed after her, his feet leading him in the direction of his office, his shoulders slumped. Hermione thought about retreating to her own area before she changed her mind. She slipped into Becker's office after him. "You know as well as I do that the tip was good," she said, once the door was shut behind them.
"Yes, but you heard the Undersecretary," he countered. "As far as he is concerned, the investigation is frivolous."
"That's ridiculous!" she said. She could have written Borgin and Burkes up for a dozen things from what she'd seen when she'd done her site visit. "We need to not let this drop."
"Listen, Hermione, I admire your tenacity, really, I do," Becker said, his eyes on his desk. "But you must see this for what it is. Someone — someone with a lot more power than you or I have — has decided to end the investigation. And there is nothing we can do about it."
Hermione stood, feeling rather dejected. She sometimes hated the way that Ministry worked. There were so many bribes and backroom deals, and nepotism that it made her head spin. She wondered if any of the good she did in her little corner of the room made any difference at all.
"Why don't you go home early," Becker suggested. "Think about literally anything else other than this investigation. And come back on Monday. We will have something fresh to start on."
With a sigh, she knew that he was right. There was nothing she could do. "That's not a terrible idea," she said, deciding to head out before she did anything stupid. "Have a good weekend, Becker."
Gathering up her things, Hermione decided that she would head to her favourite bookstore, as she did every Friday, and then get dinner from the pub 'round the corner from her flat. She could finish her night off by drinking wine in the bath with a new book. It was a small indulgence that should help her get over the hump. She apparated into Diagon Alley, before making the short walk to Adelbert's Rare and Imported Books, located down one of the sleepy side streets.
Adelbert's had been her favourite since she first moved to London and began exploring the magical world she found herself in. The shelves were so close together that you could barely make your way down the aisles and each bookshelf was positively stuffed to the brim with books that you couldn't seem to find anywhere else. It was much more her speed than the fledgling Flourish and Blotts which seemed to focus more on a mass consumer market.
After five years of shopping at the store, she felt like she knew the map of the store by heart. Heading towards the back, where very little sunlight filtered from the broad windows at the front of the store, she decided that Blood Magic was going to be what caught her attention that day. Bitterly, she reminded herself that she was supposed to be forgetting the claims made against Borgin and Burkes, not wallowing in them more, but she couldn't help herself.
She'd just found a treatise on sixteenth-century Italian blood curses when her sanctuary was invaded.
"Funny running into you here," came an all too familiar voice.
Turning, Hermione found none other than Tom Riddle standing at the end of the aisle, his tall frame taking up nearly the entirety of the aisle.
"Is it?" she asked, having never seen him in Adelbert's before. She would have remembered.
He gave her one of those crooked smiles - the ones where he was fighting not to show her how much she amused him — and she felt her belly flip flop in some unnamed emotion. Was it anticipation? Was it fear? Was it desire? She would be lying if she said that she didn't find the wizard extremely handsome, not to mention the mysterious connection they shared that seemed to draw her into his orbit.
"You are right, it's not," he said, finally. "I heard a little rumour today. About your...investigation being over. Is that true?" he asked.
"Are you asking for yourself or for your employers?" she countered, crossing her arms over her chest in an unbidden protection measure.
Tom stepped in closer to her and his voice dropped an octave as well. "Selfishly, I must admit that it is for myself," he said. "I could care less what happens to Borgin and Burke. It's not as if I'll be working there forever."
He was standing so close to her that Hermione could feel the heat radiating off of his body. She was glad to hear that he wasn't going to be working at the curio forever —she'd looked into him and knew that working at the shop was beneath him. But, what would it be a stepping stone to? "Well, the rumour is true," Hermione said, still feeling annoyed that it was dropped. "The investigation lacked sufficient evidence."
"Then that is my great fortune," he answered, looking quite pleased with himself. "When we last spoke, you made it clear that the only thing standing in the way of us exploring a relationship was your job —that you wouldn't allow your integrity be called into question."
"Did I?" Hermione asked him. She didn't recall the conversation going quite that way.
"And now that there is no investigation, there is nothing to stop us," he said, smoothly. "Go on a date with me, tomorrow night. I promise you won't regret it."
Hermione felt her heart hammering away against her ribcage at his proposition. Oh, Merlin, she wished that it didn't sound so appealing. She bit her lower lip, thinking over what she was going to tell him. Before she could answer, though, he was sweetening the pot.
"You know, recently I heard another little rumour," he said, looking at her with mischief sparkling in his deep blue eyes. "About a witch in your department who ended up in the spell damage ward. I think her name was...Limpley? Apparently her family suspects foul play and are still looking for a perpetrator."
"Excuse me," she said, her blood running cold at his thinly veiled threat. She wasn't sure how but he had figured out that she was responsible for Dolores Limpley's disfigurement. Her ire began to rise. "Are you threatening me, Tom?" she asked.
"No," he answered, the picture of innocence. "Just remarking on something I heard the other day. There are so many rumours swirling around the Ministry lately. So, what do you say to dinner tomorrow night?"
"Fine, I'll go," she agreed, not wanting to get in trouble for something that she'd thought she had gotten away with. She gave him directions to her flat with instructions to pick her up at eight o'clock. She couldn't believe that he was trying to blackmail her in order to get her to go on a simple date with him, without even waiting to hear if she would have agreed in the first place.
Tom seemed pleased that she'd given in. "Great," he said, cheerfully. "I'm looking forward to it. Until tomorrow, Hermione."
And then he left her alone with her books.
Hermione stood there dumbly for a minute, before taking her book on Italian Blood Magic and heading towards the till, all desire to continue browsing having evaporated.
It was only once she was at home and in the bath, surrounded by pearlescent bubbles, that she realized the truth that had been staring at her the whole time. The investigation wasn't dropped due to lack of evidence — the investigation had been quashed by someone who wanted it gone. It didn't take too much of a leap to realize who was behind it.
With her lower lip caught between her teeth, Hermione could barely stop herself from smiling. Did Tom Riddle really want to take her to dinner so badly that he was willing to get an entire Ministry investigation thrown out? And, did he really have that sort of influence that he was able to pull the strings like that?
She knew that she should be aghast at his behaviour, but knowing that it was her that he was doing this all for just made her feel giddy instead. She was cross with him, yes, but she couldn't deny that she was secretly pleased as well.