Chapter 18

"This doesn't look right, am I missing a page?" Hermione asked.

"I gave you the whole file," Malfoy answered, not looking up from his papers.

"Well, look at this. Tell me what you think." Hermione circled several rows on the financial spreadsheet and starred multiple entries in the same column for Inpatient Department. Malfoy glanced at Hermione's sheet.

"I see... a lot of ID numbers for patients that have been anonymized to protect their privacy." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"And?" she pressed.

"You've starred a lot of pediatric patients… but everything else seems fine. Their payments track with the associated treatment schedule, and the rest of the sheet looks normal," Malfoy mused. "If you're looking at the total number of payments for each patient, the patients you've circled do have fewer compared to the others. And it does seem to correlate with the fact that they're in the pediatric department. Are you worried about the length of treatment? It's probably because they're kids."

"That's not the pattern I'm worried about. Look at the dates," Hermione said impatiently.

Malfoy traced back the patient IDs she circles to the dates the payments were filed. "Again… looks like it fits the treatment schedule, if a bit accelerated. I'm not seeing anything else."

"What's weird to me is the timing in relation to non-pediatric patients. Look - here with patient 31T4GC159A. That pediatric patient starts the same day that 26U5CG358A ends treatment. And here, it applies to 97W9XQ323O, starts the same day that 84E6HH264P ends. It just keeps going. Page, after page, after page. I thought maybe I missed pages since some of the pediatric patients looked like they had really accelerated treatments and perhaps I missed the starting dates, but it's too clear of a pattern to be chance. I'd need a statistician to confirm, but this anecdotally is significant."

Hermione paused as Malfoy set down his work and pulled hers into his lap. He scanned each page quickly, frowning as he, too, observed the pattern Hermione had found. He marked the adult patients that did not have pediatric patients immediately following them, and tallied the numbers up.

"Only eighteen patients out of four hundred and sixty-seven adults did not have pediatric patients starting the same day they ended. That definitely does not seem like chance." Malfoy frowned. "These dates… on these eighteen patients. They look familiar."

"Did you see them in the files you were scanning?" Hermione asked.

"Yes…" Malfoy mumbled as he shuffled through his own stack. "Ah, here." He handed them to Hermione.

"Anonymous donations?" Hermione asked, thunderstruck. "Blaise got them to release their data on anonymous donations?"

"Never underestimate Blaise Zabini's negotiation powers. You and I were still focused on the intellectual property paperwork with Arnaldo when Blaise was working on Clemencio. I think the angle he took had something to do with our regulations around anti-corruption, legislation you largely helped motivate when you helped prosecute the Thicknesse family," Draco said.

"I remember,' Hermione said as she scanned the page. "That was the biggest case I had had during that time, prior to St. Mungo's. Wow, you're right. There are eighteen donations exactly in this same time period."

"And if you examine the dates, and compare them to the end dates of the eighteen patients..." Malfoy began, waiting for Hermione to finish.

"They're the exact same." Hermione looked at Malfoy. "There's definitely something going on."

"It appears so," Malfoy agreed.

"Do you think it has something to do with the way that treatments work? Is it logistical? Just easier to start a treatment the moment another finishes?" Hermione asked.

"Possible, but why the donations? Anonymously? Why specifically pediatric? We won't really know until we have someone examine the exact scimagic of the treatment, and I would recommend not approaching the Medicis about this particular pattern if there is something more insidious here," Malfoy pointed out.

"Let me check with Blaise and see if he's heard anything from Kingsley about our scientific consultant. Once we have them, we can figure out how best to proceed with investigating this pattern" Hermione conjured a nonverbal patronus, asking her otter to seek out Blaise and return with an answer. Hermione caught Malfoy staring at her.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," Malfoy shook his head to snap himself out of it. "I just haven't seen a patronus in a long time."

"What form does yours take?" Hermione asked as she shuffled through more papers. After a long pause, she looked up at Malfoy, concerned that he hadn't heard her. He had, though. He just looked uneasy.

"Sorry, did I overstep?" Hermione asked, realizing that Malfoy likely preferred to keep such personal information close to his chest. She had simply been curious, and, she thought meanly, also hoping that it was a ferret.

"No," Malfoy reassured her. "I simply haven't cast one. I don't know how."

"You've never cast a patronus? How did you survive all of those dementors during the war?" Hermione asked.

"Surprisingly, when dementors made a deal with the Dark Lord, they kept their word. They never attacked any Death Eaters or their relatives," Malfoy explained, albeit uncomfortably.

"But-" Hermione was interrupted by the return of her patronus, which announced that Blaise had just heard from Kingsley that Antha Filix had been chosen as scientific advisor, but would need some time to finish the paperwork in the next two days before joining them in Italy.

"Finally," Malfoy said. "It will be good to have our scientific advisor soon."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, before falling quiet. "The Patronus charm was one of the few charms I struggled with."

Malfoy snorted. "I bet your 'struggle' was requiring three tries rather than one."

"No, actually," Hermione said softly, and Malfoy looked at her in surprise. "It's a deeper, different type of magic. It comes from emotions, rather than focused technique and concentration. I'm not as… emotionally intelligent."

Malfoy eyed her before looking away again. "I find that hard to believe. You're rational, yes, but you're simply emotionally mature." After a pause, he met her gaze. "Though, to be fair, you are also an impulsive Gryffindor. That can hardly be considered emotionally intelligent."

Hermione laughed, also surprised by the mirth dancing in his eyes. She found herself thinking in the back of her mind that one could get lost in those gray orbs if one wasn't careful.

"Would you like to learn?" Hermione asked recklessly, drawn to the hint of surprise that flickered in his stare.

"Learn what, how to cast a Patronus?" Draco clarified. Hermione nodded. "And what, you'll teach me?" Draco asked.

"Why not?" Hermione asked. "We can't stare at this financial data all day; we'll go insane. It would be a fun break."

"Realizing your dream of becoming a true McGonagall reincarnate?" Draco snarked, and Hermione stood up, brandishing her wand.

"That is truthfully the nicest thing anyone's said to me," Hermione giggled. "Well, come on then. Do you know the wand movement and incantation?"

"It's just a leftward spiral, singular rotation, correct?" Expecto Patronum?" Draco asked.

"Ten points to Slytherin," Hermione laughed. "Come on then, get up and try."

"Ladies first," Draco gestured for her to continue.

"You've already seen me do it once," Hermione protested.

"What type of a teacher are you? How is your student supposed to learn without a demonstration?" Draco asked pointedly.

"All right, fine, yes," Hermione laughed. "Expecto patronum," she whispered, a serene smile on her face. Her silver otter erupted from the tip of her wand, floating peacefully on its back as it munched on a freshly caught clam. It drifted slowly around Draco, perking up slightly and swimming circles around the wizard's shoulders playfully. Draco stared at it in awe before the otter faded and vanished.

"Impressive," Draco commented, and Hermione almost fell over in shock. Had he just explicitly complimented her?

"Your turn," Hermione said once she had gotten over her shock. "Think of the happiest memory you have, and channel that emotion into your spell. It has to be a strong one, not just a memory of general contentment."

Draco frowned. "How did I agree to do this again?"

"You should learn for your own safety," Hermione pointed out. "It's knowledge, and all knowledge is power."

Draco smirked at her crookedly. "We'll make a Slytherin out of you, yet."

"Stop trying to distract me," Hermione said, placing a hand on her hip. "It's your turn."

Draco gripped his wand tightly, the humor draining out of his face and replaced with an impassive mask. Hermione frowned slightly - the sudden absence of Draco's openness made her realize just how uncharacteristic that had been for Draco. The stiffness and formality was back, a sharp contrast to the humanity of which Draco had briefly permitted her a glimpse.

"Do you have a possible memory?" Hermione asked gently.

Draco was silent, and Hermione waited for a few moments before the emptiness began to feel awkward.

"Perhaps," Draco said finally.

"Give it a try?" Hermione ventured.

A few second ticked by before Draco raised his wand arm. "Expecto patronum."

Nothing.

"Your wand movement and pronunciation are correct," Hermione noted, slipping into professor-mode.

"I know," Draco said, slightly annoyed.

"So that leaves your memory - it's not strong enough," Hermione said.

Draco was silent for a while. She knew he knew she was right, but would he admit it?

"I don't know that I have any memories that are strong enough," Draco admitted after a beat, his mask temporarily slipping.

"Well… you can start small." Hermione racked her brains for one of her memories to which he might relate. "Perhaps when you were sorted into Slytherin?"

He scoffed. "That was more a sensation of relief than enthusiasm."

"Oh." Hermione said lamely. "Why?" she asked.

"The Malfoys haven't had a member sorted into another house. Ever."

"What's wrong with being the first?"

"The loss of an important opportunity to network with the elite of the future of society's finest, the inability to learn how to politically maneuver amongst the most ambitious, and the lack of challenging peers," Draco recited almost robotically.

"But there are plenty of intellectual and successful Ravenclaws, or from any house, really."

"Though statistically, fewer successes than Slytherin."

"There might be a slight or massive selection bias there, as it depends heavily by how you define success," Hermione pointed out.

"How would you define success?" Draco asked.

Hermione paused, taken aback by the somewhat philosophical question. "Defining success is tricky, but to me, it's living a life that is not just satisfying, but contented, while positively impacting the life of others."

Draco snorted. "Your idealism is insufferable. Wouldn't you say the Dark Lord's policies were successful at destroying lives? Wouldn't you say the Battle of Hogwarts was a success, at the cost of Death Eaters and Order member's lives? You must rethink your definition."

"Fair, but I was answering it on a more personal basis - on how I would measure my own success. To be successful in those contexts simply means to fulfill their objectives. Of course, because objectives vary with perspective, success does so, too," Hermione answered. "But I'm curious, what is your definition of success?"

"To fulfill my objectives, certainly," Draco said, smirking.

"Humor me. What are your objectives?" Hermione asked.

Draco was silent for a beat, eyes carefully scanning Hermione's expression. She wanted to fidget under his searching gaze but refrained, as she sensed that Draco was not thinking about his goals, but whether or not he should divulge them to her.

"Surprisingly, not so different from yours," Draco said slowly. "I wish to repay those I've caused harm. Only then I suspect I will be able to live, how did you put it, contentedly."

Hermione was surprised by his openness. "Is that why you did what you did? Founded your investment company?"

"It's not like the money was worth anything, sitting in a vault," Draco snorted, clenching a fist. Hermione got the sense this had been an argument with his family, given the sudden tension that lined Draco's shoulders. "A good portion had been seized from the families the Dark Lord had butchered during his reign. It wasn't even our money to begin with - I simply returned it to its rightful owners or the people who lost their livelihoods because of the War. It wasn't ours to use for personal expenses, and it certainly wasn't ours to use to profit additionally."

Hermione was surprised by the morality Draco displayed, and she shook her head in disbelief.

"What?" Draco snapped. "Do you think I should've kept it all for my inheritance and my children's? That it was a payout for the trauma my family went through? I thought you were supposed to be the high and mighty Gryffindor."

"No, not at all," Hermione said softly. "I think what you've done is quite admirable, if that's truly your intention. Most thought you were simply trying to buy back a decent reputation."

"Let the masses believe whatever makes them feel better about themselves," Draco hissed. "They were never kind to you either, so I don't know why you'd deign to acknowledge their opinions as more than common trash."

"I very much struggle to understand you," Hermione said. "You seem to hold steadfast values that no one can question, and yet your ethics end abruptly depending on the situation."

"Perhaps you should stop wasting your time," Draco said, hardening. "Perhaps morals are a luxury of comfortable circumstance, and in the wrong time and wrong place, the line in the sand is exactly that - sand."

"But-" Hermione began, but was interrupted by Draco's abrupt reshuffling of the spreadsheets and charts of financial data.

"We should continue looking at other treatments to see if there is a similar pattern of anonymous donations."

Hermione frowned, but settled back into a chair to continue perusing the Medici Pharmaceutical records. After they had examined the remaining records without finding any other suspicious patterns, they began packing up so they could report what they had found to Blaise.

"Granger?" Draco asked.

"Yes?" Hermione continued to wave her wand as she organized the remaining files.

"Would you… Nevermind."

"What is it?" Hermione turned to face him, and was shocked by the impassive expression that Draco wore.

"It is not important, and I would not want to waste your time," Draco said, beginning to turn away.

"No, tell me. What were you going to ask me?"

Draco sighed. "I was simply going to ask if you would continue teaching me the Patronus charm, but I know we are busy and it would be an unnecessary burden on you."

"No, actually, it wouldn't be a burden at all. I'd be happy to teach you."

Draco eyed her. "If you're sure…"

"Yes, of course. We'll practice daily after our debriefs with Blaise?"

"Excellent, thank you."

"Arnaldo is here," Pansy called through the door. Ever since L'ganza, Pansy had increasingly become… not friendly, per se, as Hermione was rather sure that Pansy didn't even understand the definition of 'friendly', but civil. Yes, Hermione decided. She and Pansy (when had she become Pansy instead of Parkinson?) were now on civil terms.

"I'll be down shortly," Hermione answered as she put the finishing touches to her hair and makeup. As she donned the green acromantula silk gown, she couldn't help but reflect upon the fact that it had been Draco who picked out so many dresses to her taste. She shook herself. It never boded well to dwell on the ferret.

But her thoughts couldn't leave well enough alone: while she no longer felt the boiling hatred and pity she had felt during her childhood, she now simply felt confused. Draco Malfoy had always been easy to categorize: a rich, prejudiced, spoiled little bully. But other characteristics had leaked through the more time Hermione spent in his presence. He was selfish, but also generous. He was a self-preservationist, but ruthlessly altruistic and protective when it came to his mother. How could one human being hold such inconsistent values without exploding?

But Hermione remembered the criss-cross scars on his Mark, and she thought that perhaps, indeed, he already had exploded. She sensed that underneath all of the smirks and aristocratic airs lay a morally confused and scared little boy, unsure of his place in a war-torn world. His old beliefs had placed him on the wrong side, and he could sense that, even in the midst of the times where that side seemed to be winning. Perhaps, Hermione mused, Draco could grow into a better person. He could very well choose to become a good one.

But changing him wasn't her job. She wasn't his mother, and as her own mother used to say, you could bring a horse to water, but never force it to drink.

After slipping on a pair of silver stilettos, Hermione exited her room and descended the staircase towards the foyer, where Arnaldo was waiting.

"Hermione," Arnaldo breathed, and though Hermione rarely put stock in superficial appearances, it felt nice to be desired. "You, my dear, are simply stunning."

"Thank you, Arnaldo. You look quite dashing yourself," she returned, smiling. And it was true, his perfectly tailored muggle suit displayed his lean figure delectably. His sparkling hazel eyes enchanted her, though she was loathe to admit it. She knew then that like fourth year, she would be the envy of the entire female population by being on his arm. She internally groaned. How did this happen again? These types of men never went for the nerdy girl. Unless…

"Are you ready to depart?" Arnaldo asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"Yes, of course. Shall we wait for the others?"

"I thought you might want a little more time with Michelangelo before the crowds come," Arnaldo suggested, explaining his early arrival.

"Oh! Of course. I'll let the others know we went ahead of them." Hermione sent her otter patronus to Blaise and Draco before she took Arnaldo's arm.

"Hold tight," he grinned wolfishly.

Hermione didn't have time to process the predatory gleam in his eyes before she felt the squeeze of side-apparation.

They appeared in a large room with incredibly high ceilings, the walls draped with lush, red curtains that framed french doors on all four sides. In the center of the room was another set of red curtains, concealing what was presumably Michelangelo's work until the reveal. At the top, however, Hermione could just see the tip of a scaffolding peeking out, and the quiet tinkling of chipped stone falling to the floor indicated that Michelangelo himself was putting the last finishing touches to his work.

"Michelangelo! I've brought a guest," Arnaldo announced.

"They get to see me when the rest of them get to see me," a gruff voice responded.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. He's very dedicated to his work," Arnaldo turned to her.

"That's all right-" Hermione began, but there had been a slight pause in the scraping of stone.

"As in Hermione Granger?" the gruff voice called out.

"The one and only," Arnaldo beamed.

There was a brief clattering of tools as Michelangelo made his way down, finally parting the curtains and approaching them. He was much shorter than Hermione had anticipated, and as he drew closer, she could see the deep frown lines that had been sculpted permanently on his face. Time had not been kind to him, as evidenced by his hands gnarled with arthritis and the hunch in his posture. Despite his age, his hazel eyes were piercing, sharp as ever. Hermione instantly felt that a glare would slice her into pieces.

"So it is," Michelangelo said, his voice gravelly like a scraping sandstone. "Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, at your service."

"Pleasure meeting you," Hermione breathed, a little more than starstruck.

"I've heard much about you. A warrior princess championing the cause of the common folk."

"Hardly," Hermione said, a wry smile dancing across her lips. "It's much less romantic than that. It was survival - gritty, violent, traumatic survival."

Michelangelo's jaded eyes softened slightly at that. "Truth is serrated. Only art is smooth," he nodded knowingly.

Arnaldo laughed. "You never cease to be poetic, Michelangelo. Truly a man of all of the arts. And yet, they refer to Da Vinci as the true renaissance man."

Hermione noticed as Michelangelo's eyes hardened as he turned towards Arnaldo, regaining their permanent squint.

"Leonardo always had a talent for marketing himself," Michelangelo stated. "I could hardly be bothered. Regardless, I do need to polish the last bits of my piece. See yourselves out."

Abruptly, Michelangelo hobbled back to finish his work, and Hermione couldn't help but feel off balance and uncomfortable.

"Shall we retire to the gardens, perhaps?" Arnaldo asked. Hermione nodded mutely, still reeling from the abrasive introduction to the artist.

Arnaldo guided her out of one of the french doors and into the vast gardens. Although she had been to the Medici villa before, she couldn't help but be awed yet again by the sheer expanse of the estate. She could now see that they had exited a completely separate building, likely for the sole purpose of Michelangelo's debuts.

"How is everything at home?" Arnaldo asked as they entered a smaller courtyard, motioning for her to sit on one of the benches that surrounded a fountain depicting Eros and Psyche.

"I wouldn't exactly call Blaise's villa home," Hermione laughed. "But it's been fine."

"Oh, I didn't mean the Zabini Villa. I meant London."

Hermione frowned in confusion. "Well, I haven't been in London since I came here for the negotiations. What about London?"

"Well, there have been rumors…" Arnaldo said uneasily. "I heard… there were a group of hitmen outside your flat that were apprehended."

Hermione looked at Arnaldo in shock. Was this a test? Arnaldo must have known about the Cascioferras - after all, it must have been his family who had ordered for them to be placed near Ginny. Of course he would know they had been apprehended. Was this an intimidation tactic? How should she respond? For the first time in her life, she wished desperately that Draco or Blaise were there to help her. None of their political lessons had ever covered a move like this.

Hermione hoped that playing ignorant was the best move. "Hitmen?" she channeled her shock into a mild shriek.

Arnaldo gazed at her with… was that genuine concern? "You didn't know?"

"Merlin, I had heard from N-Harry that there had been an issue with my neighbors, but nothing beyond that. Hitmen? Are you sure you heard that right?" Hermione hoped that Arnaldo wouldn't catch her almost-slip up. Confirming that her source had been Nessa would've put the Sterling family into great danger, especially considering Lynessa's possible 'engagement' plans with Arnaldo.

"I'm sure," Arnaldo said. "The Cascioferras, if the rumors are to be believed. You ought to be careful around Blaise."

"Who told you this, can you trust them? And wait, why should I be careful around Blaise?" Hermione demanded.

"Didn't you know?" Arnaldo asked, shocked.

"Know what?" Hermione was beginning to feel exasperated.

"His mother - Blaise's mother. Her maiden name is Tazia Cascioferra. It's his family that have been trained as hitmen and was positioned outside your apartment."

Hermione didn't know what to say. She had had no idea that Blaise's mother was a Cascioferra, and if that were true, it raised questions as to why he wouldn't have disclosed that information when she had told him about the Cascioferras. Draco, too! He must have known, and he didn't bat an eye when she told him that they were sitting across her flat! And Nessa, wouldn't Nessa have warned her to watch out for Blaise? She couldn't believe that Nessa wouldn't have known that Blaise's mother was originally part of that family: the Sterlings were too well connected. There had to be a reasonable explanation, right? Hermione could feel her trust unraveling. As much as she hated to admit it, Arnaldo Medici's words had done their job: they had planted a seed of doubt.

Hermione refocused. It could just be a lie. Arnaldo could be making this up to test her reactions, and at least right now, Hermione couldn't see anything wrong with letting the confusion and shock continue to play out on her face. To Arnaldo's credit, however, nothing on his expression slipped. He didn't look smug, or confident that he would upend her trust in her coworkers. He didn't look like he was anticipating her reaction either. There was nothing but worry on his face.

Hermione suddenly felt that the ground had been pulled out from under her. Who could she trust? Was any of this real?

"I can see that you didn't know," Arnaldo said softly. "I'm so sorry that I have to be the one to bring you this news."

"I-I don't know what to say," Hermione said honestly. "I'm so confused. This is so shocking. I don't know what to do." Hermione wrung her hands in her lap, trying desperately not to fidget. She was suddenly very conscious of the acromantula silk gown that Draco had picked out. He must have known - how could he not have known?

"Hermione, I can see you thinking a thousand kilometers a minute. Breathe. It's okay, they've been apprehended. You have breathing room," Arnaldo said.

She decided to take his advice and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling some of her stress away. It didn't help a lot, but it helped some.

"Better?" he asked.

"Some."

"Well, think about it this way. They are, indeed, rumors, but I'm confident that there's more here than meets the eye," Arnaldo reasoned. "Talk to Blaise, or anyone who knows him. Be subtle, talk about your family, perhaps, then his, and see if you can't get him to confirm his mother's family name without him realizing that was what you were after. I know that I'm practically a stranger, but you'll see. I'm telling the truth."

"All right." Hermione saw the logic there. Even if Arnaldo was playing her, there was no reason to not confirm it.

"And if you ever feel like you're in any danger…" Arnaldo trailed off, before pulling off one of his cufflinks and handing it to her. "That's a portkey to one of the safehouses on this estate. The only way is in is through portkey, so even if they know you've disappeared to the Medici Estate, they won't be able to find you. It can be activated at any time."

Though the cufflink was small, Hermione felt as if she were now holding a nuclear bomb. "Arnaldo, I really couldn't impose. I have other methods." She attempted to push it back to him.

"Take it," Arnaldo insisted. "It's always important to have an exit strategy."

Hermione waved her wand and inserted a hidden pocket into her dress - it was handy to have lived with the Weasley family for a while. She dropped the cufflink there, nonverbally warding her pocket with a few protections against dark magic in case it wasn't what Arnaldo claimed it was. "Thank you," Hermione said, hoping he hadn't watched her wand movements too carefully to know that she was suspicious of him.

"You're welcome, just be careful who you trust. Now, it looks like the dinner is just about to start. Shall we?" Arnaldo offered his arm and stood up. She accepted, only hesitating slightly, and he led them back towards the building.

It was only on reflection that she realized that Arnaldo had avoided answering who his sources on these 'rumors' were.

When they entered the building again, the scaffolding had been removed, and lights had been placed at the base surrounding the curtained work, presumably angled for the best display. More people were milling about, and Hermione saw Blaise and Pansy. Draco had brought someone as his plus one… a girl with wavy dark hair. She wore a silver satin dress, matching Draco's suit perfectly. Odd, Hermione thought. Draco hadn't coordinated his suit to her outfit when they had been to the Medici Villa last. Unless Draco and this woman were a couple?

"Could Lynessa not make it?" Hermione asked Arnaldo suddenly, remembering that the families had been 'making arrangements.'

Arnaldo looked at Hermione, startled. "No," he coughed, trying to regain his composure. "She had other family commitments. She didn't mind me taking you to this dinner. Nothing has been finalized as of yet."

"Oh good, I wouldn't want to step on anyone's toes. Enlighten me - how are these arrangements made and how long does it take to finalize?"

"It's quite boring, really. The families have a lot to evaluate about each other to make sure it's a mutually beneficial union. We've just finished examining each other's financial assets, and all looks good thus far. The next stage is discussing family values, which is usually quite a bit more fussy," Arnaldo detailed.

"Wow, it sounds like an application process. Rather clinical," Hermione commented.

"It's meant to formalize some of the most important indicators of compatibility. In a way, it's rather clinical, but luckily my family and her family both appear to leave a lot of the final decision making to us. Even if all of the objective factors are sound… if there's no chemistry, or we have interests in other people, there's no pressure from either House to commit."

"Fascinating," Hermione said. "In Britain, there are few if any pureblood divorces. Is the same true of Italy?"

"We don't ascribe to those bigoted labels," Arnaldo said with a sneer. "Ridiculous to judge somebody by their lineage, rather than by their current actions and capability."

"You and I share that sentiment," Hermione said.

"But there is a class distinction here in Italy, and among the elite, there are very few divorces. Depending on the family, however, there are different ways to enforce a marriage continues… or ends," Arnaldo added.

"It's so enlightening to compare your cultural perspective to mine," Hermione said.

"I'm glad I could provide some luminance," Arnaldo chuckled. "Shall we greet your colleagues?"

"Let's."

Hermione and Arnaldo glided across the floor towards Blaise, Pansy, Draco, and Draco's date.

"Blaise, Pansy, Draco," Arnaldo greeted. "And who is this beauty you have on your arm?"

"Odile Richelieu," Odile said, before Draco could introduce her. Hermione sensed that something shifted in that moment, as Blaise and Pansy glanced at each other with raised eyebrows. Draco's mask was suddenly full force when it hadn't been a moment ago. His smile was stiff, something that Hermione now knew meant 'fake' after having spent many hours with the blond whilst looking over financial data.

"Miss Richelieu, a pleasure. I am Arnaldo de Medici, and this is Hermione Granger."

"Pleasure to meet you," Hermione nodded towards Odile.

"Odile was just describing how much of a fan she is of Michelangelo's work," Blaise said.

"I 'ave 'eard zat Perenelle et Nicolas are friends ov yours, yes?"

"Of Michelangelo's, but I have never had the pleasure of meeting them myself," Arnaldo said.

"Oh! And Michelangelo - he has not eentroduced you?"

"It's a complicated relationship," Arnaldo said with finality. Odile at least was smart enough to recognize the end of a discussion when it came.

"Ah. And zis ees ze famous 'ermione Granger!" Odile exclaimed. "A contemporary Joan de Arc, non?" Pansy snorted, and for once, Hermione could agree with her.

"Not at all," Hermione said, wishing her reputation hadn't travelled to the continent. It was enough dealing with it in Britain. "Like I was telling Michelangelo earlier today, it was hardly as romantic as the papers made it out to be. Much more grisly and visceral, really."

Draco's shoulders tensed, and Hermione couldn't help but feel a flash of guilt at having brought the war back up. But such was life, when you were Hermione Granger. The war constantly hovered, a thick phantom always in the periphery of her eye.

"Such subjects I'm sure aren't appropriate for such a light atmosphere," Blaise said. "We are here to celebrate! I'm very much looking forward to Michelangelo's reveal."

"Indeed. If he's chosen not to do a nude figure, I've always been rather impressed by his sculpting of fabric. Veils, especially," said Pansy.

Hermione was taken aback. Had Pansy actually uttered a compliment? Had she said something nice?

"Though that is rather technically challenging, it's not nearly as impressive as the emotions that he manages to convey," Draco countered. "It takes a different form of… intelligence." Draco's eyes met Hermione's for a split second.

"Nonsense," Pansy scoffed. "There are plenty of good artists who can convey emotion - you can convey it with a couple of lines on a piece of paper. It's the technique and refinement that distinguish an expert."

"I'd rather think it's more a combination of both," Blaise said. "It's technique and emotion that make Michelangelo truly powerful."

"And to think he still does it without magic," Draco shook his head in disbelief.

"Really?" Hermione asked. Arnaldo nodded.

"Michelangelo's often expressed that he requires the tactile feedback when sculpting," Arnaldo said. "Different parts of the stone can have different characters - some parts can be shattered, some is softer and more flexible. One must be able to adjust the chiseling strength on an as needed basis because no stone is wholly uniform."

"That makes a lot of sense," Hermione said.

After a pause, Arnaldo turned to Pansy. "If you like fabrics and design, Pansy, might I introduce you to Elaria Ochle? She's a shoe designe-"

"I know who she is," Pansy interrupted. "And please, it would be my honor."

Arnaldo moved to tug Hermione along, but she resisted. "I'd like to get to know Odile better, if that's alright," Hermione said.

Arnaldo's eyes flickered back and forth between Blaise and Hermione, unsure if he should leave the two alone. "If you're sure?"

"I'll be right here when you come back," Hermione smiled.

Arnaldo nodded, and then offered his arm to Pansy. "Shall we?"
Pansy took his arm without another word, and the two departed.

"Everything all right, Hermione?" Blaise asked. Hermione looked at him, Arnaldo's words still circling in her mind.

"Yes," she said, but there was a slight waver to her voice. Draco looked at her with concern. "It was fun to meet Michelangelo earlier. Anyways, how did you meet Odile, Draco?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at her, and she could tell that she wasn't fooling him, though Blaise's neutral expression hadn't changed. "The Delacour family introduced us. We met a few weeks ago, when I was in France."

"Ah," Hermione said. She wanted to ask if they were together, but since Draco offered no such information, she thought it'd be rude. "How nice."

"Eet ees very exciting," Odile said, and Hermione fought the instinct to wince. Her high pitched voice was a little too much for Hermione's ears.

Thankfully, just at that moment, a bell rang, and the chatter slowly died down as the room turned to look towards Michelangelo and Stefano, who were standing at the center.

"Friends and family, I'd like to thank you all for your attendance today in celebrating Michelangelo's first work in over two hundred years!" Stefano announced, and a smattering of applause followed. "From an early age, Michelangelo distinguished himself as quite the artistic prodigy, catching the eye of multiple of my forefathers. Since then, as his patron, the Medici family adopted Michelangelo and sponsored some of his most famous works, both to the magical world and nonmagical. I'm sure none of you need reminding of the halls of our Ministry, David, Pieta, or the Sistine Chapel. We are incredibly pleased to reinstate the relationship that had been lost to time and circumstance many years ago. I'm very pleased to present the man himself, Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni!"

A louder applause followed before the hunched man cleared his throat, instantly silencing the room. "As ever, I must acknowledge how grateful I am for the patronage of the Medici family, as this work would not be possible otherwise. May I present, Medusa, in black marble, set with gemstones."

At that moment, the curtains rose, and there was a breath of silence as everyone took in the beautiful, yet terrifying sculpture. Each of the snakes adorned on her head had gleaming scales, with individually placed emeralds. Their eyes glittered in burnt orange, set likely with imperial topaz. The statue was enormous, and the snakes from her hair dripped down to cover her body, draping like a dress across her limbs. The expression, however, was the most intriguing. It wasn't one of horror or meant to terrify, like most other artistic depictions. Instead, Medusa conveyed strength and serenity, more typical of Artemis or Athena.

Hermione was stunned, as was the rest of the room, before a loud applause began. Michelangelo seemed unaffected by the praise, however, bowing shallowly before disappearing into the crowd. Eventually, the applause petered out, and the attendees returned to their mingling.

"Magnifique," Odile said, slipping into her native tongue.

"Vraiment," Draco responded.

Hermione felt out of her depth as Blaise, Draco, and Odile continued to discuss the artistic value of Medusa and the variety of techniques Michelangelo must have employed. Art history certainly wasn't covered at Hogwarts, and she couldn't help but recognize their art education that had likely occurred privately under the tutelage of a governess - education she had never had.

Suddenly, however, she felt a tap on her side.

Michelangelo was there, and the other three hadn't noticed, too engrossed in their conversation.

"Thoughts?" he grunted.

"Stunning, truly," Hermione said. "I don't have the artistic training to fully appreciate the finer techniques you've employed, but the overall effect is very impressive."

Michelangelo snorted in relief. "Good you don't. Everyone here thinks they're an expert - it's refreshing that you admit to the gaps in your knowledge."

Hermione tilted her head towards him. "I would have thought you'd like people appreciating the work and thought that went into it."

Michelangelo peered at her. "I would've thought you'd like people appreciating your work and thought that went into winning your war."

"Touché," Hermione laughed. "How is it that you've reconnected with the Medicis? Why weren't you in contact with them for the last few hundred years?"

Michelangelo rolled his eyes. "It took a few generations to breed out the most intolerable ones," he said bluntly. "They're more tolerable now. At least, on the surface. But that's all I need from them. They're a slippery lot."

"Even still, why haven't you made any art in two hundred years? I would've thought that you could have found other patrons, with your name and all."

Michelangelo sobered. "Death got in the way," he stated shortly. "I didn't think I'd ever do this again."

"Oh," Hermione said softly, confused though, as the Flamels would have guaranteed that Death wasn't on Michelangelo's list of concerns. Unless… it was someone close to him. "A wife?"

"Husband, this time around," Michelangelo said.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione said. "Did you ever consider rejecting the Flamels' offer?"

"Many times. A story for a different time," he said.

Hermione nodded, figuring it was a sore topic for him still. "But I do have a question for you, about your work I mean."

"Oh?"

"Her expression. It's rather peaceful. Not something you'd typically associate with Medusa. Or rather, not something most other artists associate with her."

Michelangelo smiled, and Hermione could see that a few of his teeth were missing. "What do you mean? Do you not feel at peace when surrounded by snakes?"

Hermione blinked, unsure if by 'snakes' he had been referring to her Slytherin coworkers, or any of the political players in the room, really. "No, of course not," Hermione replied, unsure where the conversation was leading.

"Good," Michelangelo said as he turned to hobble away. "Because if you do, that's when you've become a monster, too."

AN: Hello all of my dear followers! Thank you so much for reading and sticking with me, despite the long updates. There's not really any excuse here, other than real life got in the way. All is well, and just trust that this fic is definitely not abandoned. I will continue to post, though the updates will likely continue to be sporadic. Apologies in advance!

A few things. I've changed my username from AW Science Geek to crucialexa. Why? Mostly because I've outgrown my old one, and feel that it's time for something new. I fully admit to the extra-ness of my new aesthetic™. Thought it'd be fun :)

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as I've tried to start moving things along between Draco and Hermione as well as plot-wise. We're eighteen chapters in, and I couldn't believe that the main conflict I have planned for this story hadn't even begun to be hinted at. Well, here you are, my friends. There's something else happening beneath the surface, and there are too many liars in this game to easily untangle the truth from the noise. I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts and theories in the review box down below about the weird financial trail that Draco and Hermione had observed, or what's happening with Blaise's family and the Medicis. Who do you think is telling the truth? Who do you think is twisting it?

Now that Hermione's been trained better by the Slytherins, it's time to have some fun.

Let the game begin.