Lysander gave her feet a firm push, boosting her up further and letting her get her arms over the window sill. Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself half into the house, praying no one was around to witness her ungraceful entrance. Once she was inside, she stuck her head back out the window. "I'll open the service door," she called back.
He stared up at her, eyes unreadable in the darkness outside.
Dom pulled her head back in and glanced around, struck by the opulence of the mansion. It was to be expected, for the head of the Wizengamot, but the ornate decorations seemed too large even for the huge house. She walked quietly down the hall, not hearing any other noises and hoping they'd be alone. Hurrying down the stairs, she unlatched the back door and ushered Lysander inside.
"Took you long enough." He shut the door quietly behind him. "Find anything good yet?"
Dom furrowed her brow. "Lysander. I've been inside for about thirty seconds."
He shrugged and began a methodical trek down the long hallway in front of them. "We need to find an office. That's our best bet."
Dominique traipsed behind him, scanning the area around them as they went, searching for anything that might be helpful.
The two of them made it to the front half of the house, passing through a large, open living room. Lysander stopped at the wide fireplace, staring down at the pile of logs that were slightly charred. A tiny jar of Floo powder sat on the mantle. "He's been here recently." He swiveled back to her.
She affirmed his statement with a nod, taking in the tall portraits on every wall. Each one featured a variety of Quidditch players, clad in light blue robes. "Who are all these players?"
Lysander did a 180 turn, scanning them all quickly. "It's the French Quidditch team."
Dom's eyes narrowed. "Why would he have portraits of the French Quidditch team on his living room walls?"
"Everything keeps coming back to Quidditch," he murmured.
Over the fireplace, one portrait stood much larger than the others. A tall, slightly heavyset wizard stood beside a chair, in which a regal looking witch was seated. His hand rested on her left shoulder, and her cloak was marked all over with fleur-de-lis. A French flag hung prominently to the side of the couple.
"That's Bomsnox," Dom breathed. "Must be his wife. And it looks like she's from France? Maybe that explains the obsession with the French team."
Lysander's eyes stuck on the portrait for a mere second. "We need to find his office."
"Before someone finds us," Dom rejoined, settling into the path behind him once again.
They re-entered the main hallway and kept going towards the front of the house, further away from the back service area of Bomsnox's mansion. Moments later, a pair of dark, cherry paneled doors faced them. Without a word, Lysander felt for the handle. It stuck.
"Locked?" Dom asked. "Try Alohomora."
He chuckled softly. "If he double locks his windows, I doubt he'd leave his-"
"Alohomora," Dom cut him off. Click.
"Well. Look at that." Lysander gave the door a slight push, smiling down at her.
They entered into an office the same size as the vast living room, as neat and clean as Lysander's was messy. There were no teetering stacks of boxes, no papers cluttering the desk, books were arranged neatly in bookcases that lined the walls.
Lysander ran a finger across the edge of the long, chestnut desk. "Not a trace of dust."
"Must have great maids," Dom suggested. "What exactly are we looking for?"
"Anything." He stalked to the window and glared out of it, taking in the huge expanse of the rolling front lawn with its menacing trees.
Dominique turned the corner of the desk, bent down to try the drawers. "For someone who locks windows, he keeps his office relatively accessible." She slid open the top drawer. Stacks of Galleons glinted up at her. "Well it makes sense he'd be rich," she muttered.
Trying the next drawer, she found neatly filed papers marked 'finances.' Another drawer down, and a set of little black books faced her. She furrowed her brow and picked up the top book. Rows and columns stared back at her. 'France v. Belgium' one section read, another said 'France v. Netherlands.' It went on like that, listing matchups with numbers strewn to the side of each, marking out the scores. "I think I found a Quidditch scorekeeping book," she called to Lysander, who was still staring straight out the window.
He was behind her in a second, peering over her shoulder at the book in her hands. He took it from her, flipped a few pages, and reached for the next book in the pile. It had similar markings in it. Then a third, and the same. A small paper fluttered to the floor from the back of the book.
Dom reached out for it and snatched it up, hastily taking in the words. "Dear Mr. Bomsnox," she read aloud, "Enclosed find your winnings for this season of the International Quidditch Competition. You will find that the amount is what we agreed upon at the start of the season. I've kept the remaining amount. I look forward to discussing next seasons bets and arrangements with you in the near future. Sincerely, Pierre Lamonde." Her voice ground to a halt. "What in Merlin's name does that mean?"
Lysander's eyes registered understanding. "He's a gambler, betting on Quidditch games. And it looks like his winnings are fixed."
Dom stared down at the paper then back up at him. "You mean he's cheating?"
He gave a quick nod. "It sounds like he and this Lamonde are in it together, running some kind of gambling ring and splitting the profits."
Harsh footsteps echoed down the hallway outside the door, which Dom had thankfully remembered to close behind them. Her eyes went wide. "Someone's coming," she hissed, as if that wasn't already evident.
His face went white, staring at the doorway. Then he leapt into action. Shutting the drawer with quiet force, Lysander shoved the book into his pocket and grabbed Dominique's hand. He dragged her across the room, yanking open a tiny door sheltered in the far corner of the office, between two bookshelves.
Not bothering to look into the darkness and see the interior, Lysander pushed Dom inside and hurried in after her, pulling the little door shut tight behind them. The closet was hardly big enough for three brooms, let alone two people.
The back of Dom's head pressed into something hard, something that felt like a shelf, situated directly behind her on the back wall of the cupboard. Lysander's chest was pushed up against Dominique, her face mere centimeters from the taut skin of his neck. He didn't even seem to be breathing, he was standing so still.
They could hear the office door creak open, and loud footsteps clicked into the room. Dom's breathing settled into a slow rhythm, her heartbeat calming down only slightly. For the first time, she noticed Lysander's arm was wrapped behind her back, bracing himself against the shelf behind her.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the closet, her gaze flicked up at Lysander. He was looking back at her, biting his lip, face completely serious. She wanted to say something, anything, to ease the tension she could feel building up between them in the tiny space. But now was not the time to sort out her jumbled emotions towards him. They were about to be discovered trespassing in Caspar Bomsnox's house.
Her breathing sped up again at that thought, adrenaline coursing through her. Would they go to jail, stand on trial? They'd be fired without question. Cuffe hadn't given permission for this insane attempt to find evidence.
As if hearing her thoughts, Lysander ducked his head, lips brushing her ear. "Calm down," he whispered, voice barely audible even to her.
It would be a lot easier to remain calm if your body wasn't all pressed up against me, Dom yelled at him internally. But she simply gave a little nod, nose bumping his shoulder.
He gripped the shelf more firmly, edging himself closer to her, as if that was even possible. Lysander's feet shuffled the smallest bit, planted solidly on either side of her small frame. She was completely enveloped in his broad embrace. Merlin help me…
The footsteps sounded as if they were pacing the perimeter of the room, stopping every so often. There was no way whoever it was wouldn't check the closet. But they didn't. After what felt like an hour, but in reality was likely a few minutes, the sounds receded and the office door clicked closed.
Lysander exhaled in a whoosh, like he'd been holding his breath the entire time. But he still didn't move. "We need to wait," he whispered in explanation, looking down at her again. He twitched his nose, pulling his head back as her hair brushed against his face.
"Sorry," she murmured, twisting back and trying to stop the runaway strands from tickling him.
A few seconds later, he stepped back, quietly twisting the knob and extricating himself from their little hiding space. A rush of cold air filled the space where he had been, her body tensing up at his absence. For the briefest moment, the idea flickered into her mind that she wanted him to step back and press her into the shelf once again.
"Let's go," he called back to her. "Fast." Tugging her out of the closet, he shut the door behind her and hurried out of the office. He scanned the hallway both ways. "You've got the letter?"
She felt for it in her pocket, fingers closing around its crumpled edges. "Got it."
Lysander motioned for her to follow close behind him. "That'll have to be good enough." Looking left and right as he went, he led the way back to the service door and herded Dom out of the mansion ahead of him. A strong hand took hers in a firm grip, pulling her into the shadow of a nearby tree.
Dominique willed herself not to think about the long fingers clasped around hers. She waited patiently, trusting him to get them out of this in one piece.
"There's at least one person in there, so we have to be careful. Follow me," he told her, his voice a little louder now. Dodging from tree to tree, he made it back to the front of the lawn and crouched near the bushes by the cement wall.
"I don't think I can climb back over," Dom said, scanning the wall for cracks and finding nothing.
He didn't reply, just paced towards the solid wall and beckoned her over. Tentatively, she edged out of the shadows and stood beside him.
"I'm going to give you a boost. We're good at this now." Lysander managed a small smile.
Dom just nodded, stepping into his waiting hands once more. How had she gone from hating this man just a month ago to trusting him implicitly to vault her over walls in the middle of the night? She grabbed at the top of the wall, scrambling to find a hold. Her fingers slipped, caught on the edge, slipped again.
She tumbled backwards, arms spinning, wanting to scream but holding it in as well as she could. Dom let out a muffled yell and toppled backwards, not hitting the ground as she was sure she would, but landing solidly in Lysander's arms. Her eyes met his in an instant.
"Come on now, work with me here," he grumbled, but she could just make out a slight twinkle in his eyes.
"Sorry," she whispered. "Guess I need more practice."
A loud bang resounded through the vast expanse of the yard, and the two whirled around to catch sight of the huge front doors slamming open. "Who's there?" a high-pitched, female voice called.
Lysander's eyes met hers in the dark. "They know we're here now. We've got to just Apparate."
"But-" Dom's heart rate was back up now, the panic setting in.
He dropped her to her feet but quickly grabbed at her hand. "Don't try to go anywhere, let me pull you with me. Close your eyes."
Her neck twisted, watching as a woman hurried down the front steps. "You out there, get back here!" she yelled out at them.
Dom's head turned back to face him and she pressed her lips together. "Let's go."
Lysander took hold of her other hand, holding both firmly in his tight grasp. They both squeezed their eyes shut. And they were gone.
Author's Note: Will this discovery be enough? Lots more craziness to come, I plan to update again sometime this week if all goes well. Please leave a review, I appreciate everyone who has done so already :)
