Chapter 20
Hermione gritted her teeth as she smiled her last goodbyes to Stefano, Arnaldo, Clemencio, and Thorgil MacSharry, Chief Executive Officer of Chemagic. The last couple of days had been exhausting, and Thorgil's blatant sexism throughout the entire meeting had tried Hermione's patience. Of course, it was only if Draco or Blaise repeated Hermione's points that Thorgil actually listened. More than once, Draco had caught her eye and rolled his eyes when Thorgil showered praises upon Draco or Blaise for essentially saying the exact thing Hermione had suggested prior.
Blaise placed a hand on her back as they approached the Floo, trying to calm her. He must have been able to sense her ire, but she had become better at managing her temper when it came to negotiating with ignorant idiots. She had never been a hot-headed person, but tolerating snide comments every few sentences had fanned her fire for justice. Draco followed closely behind, and Hermione was glad for once to be surrounded by these Slytherins. These ones had learned her worth, even if she resented having to prove it to them in the first place.
Hermione's mind drifted to the magical frescoes above her while she queued for the Floo. Before her very eyes, the biblical story of David and Goliath played, the colorful scenes repeating every few minutes. She found herself drifting to ponder the acerbic man. Michelangelo had never felt that painting was an authentic form of art, so it was curious that he had agreed to complete the frescoes at all. Hermione wondered how the Medicis had succeeded in twisting Michelangelo's arm to decorate the Italian Ministry's halls.
Once they had all returned to Zabini Villa, they debriefed their meeting from that day.
"Do we know when Antha is arriving today?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, actually, she's already here. Fragola is settling her in, but we should bring her here for introductions," Blaise said. "I'll go find her."
Once Blaise had left, Hermione cast a cooling charm on the room. Draco sighed in relief.
"Oh thank Merlin. I will never understand why the Italians don't believe in cooling charms. It's been unbearable," Draco complained.
"Summer humidity is horrible for my hair, which is already as frizzy as it can be," Hermione agreed. "A simple charm, that's all it takes."
Draco nodded. "My poor British constitution cannot possibly handle anything but gray fog and rain."
Hermione laughed, shocking herself. Had Draco really made a joke - a self-deprecating one at that - and let down his guard around her? What was this alternative universe?
"Practice later tonight?" she asked him.
"As always," Draco shrugged. "As if I had prior commitments."
"Not Odile?" Hermione asked. Draco gave her a withering glare.
"If you think I could ever match myself with a simpering wallflower like her, you are sorely overestimating my tolerance for discussing romance novels and lace trends."
Hermione chuckled again. "I would've thought you could find something in common - perhaps you could share your hair care routine."
Draco, who had been tapping his fingers absentmindedly on the arm of the chair in which he was seated, stopped abruptly. "I'd rather have thought that I should share that with you, seeing how desperately you need help."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I thought you would have been more creative in your insults. You've only, after all, had a lifetime to perfect them."
"Low-hanging fruit." Draco's drumming fingers resumed.
"But you're knowledgeable in art, business, and current politics. Those three topics ought to cover enough ground - I'm sure it would intersect with one of Odile's interests."
"You would think so," Draco sighed, "and yet, here I am: endeavoring to discover how to rid myself of the obligation to continue seeing her."
"What obligation?" Hermione asked. "Are purebloods not allowed to just determine that it wouldn't be a proper match?"
Draco shifted uneasily in his chair, Hermione's emphasis on 'purebloods' hitting too close to home. Hermione sensed she had potentially touched on a sensitive topic, but Draco hadn't shut her out. He just needed some time to figure out how much he was willing to share with her. Hermione realized that over the past few weeks, she had learned to read Draco very well. Not perfectly, but well enough.
"I'm not sure how to explain this," Draco stated finally.
Another beat. "Sorry, it's all right; I was just curious," Hermione said hesitantly.
Draco made eye contact with her. "It isn't that I don't wish to elaborate, rather the opposite in fact. It is merely difficult to place words to that which is unspoken. Or at the most, dictated to young children so that it becomes ingrained as a formative memory."
"I see," Hermione said.
"You don't, but for your sake, I hope you never will."
Hermione didn't know what to say to that, but she was saved from commenting by Antha and Blaise entering. Antha was dressed in a mustard yellow shirt that contrasted beautifully with her dark skin. Her sleeves had been rolled up, and she stuck her hands into the pockets of her long, black jeans.
"Antha! It's lovely to see you again," Hermione greeted. Antha gave a little half-wave.
"Hello," Antha said.
"Well, obviously you've met Hermione before. Antha, this is Draco," Blaise introduced. Draco stood from his chair.
"Pleasure to meet you," Draco offered his hand.
Antha shook it firmly. "Likewise." She peered at him through her very large glasses. "Hmm. You look less of a ponce compared to your Witch Weekly photos."
Blaise laughed, Hermione winced, and Draco frowned.
"Thank you, I suppose?" Draco ventured.
"It was a neutral statement," Antha said. She looked around the office. "Could be a bit cleaner, but not the worst I've seen." Antha turned to Blaise quickly. "Do you have the data?"
Blaise nodded, chuckling as he went to his desk to retrieve a few binders. "Efficient, you are."
"As one might imagine, anything but would be a waste of time," Antha said.
"Such acerbic wit," Draco said. "You'll fit in with our team perfectly."
"Oh, pardon. Did that come off harsh? I merely meant what I said, without intention to insult," said Antha.
"Not at all," said Blaise while handing Antha the experimental data.
"All right. Is this everything that will be eventually presented to the Potions and Cures Board?"
"Yes, it should have that and then some," Blaise answered.
"Excellent. I'll report back tonight," Antha said, nose already buried deep into the binders of charts and figures. "They didn't correct for multiple hypotheses," Antha muttered immediately, glaring at the papers. Distracted, she turned and left the office. Blaise, Hermione, and Draco looked at each other.
"Well, that was abrupt," Blaise said.
"That's Antha," Hermione shrugged.
"I was initially planning to bring her up to date with where we're at in terms of Medici Pharmaceuticals acquiring Chemagic, but I guess she doesn't particularly care?" Blaise asked.
"Probably not. She's always been about the science," Hermione noted. "But her analysis will be critical. I want her to take a look at the data for the treatments that correspond to the weird pattern that Draco and I saw in the finances. There will probably be some ingredient timing or scheduling that can account for it, but I just want us to be sure. She knows a lot more about potion theory than I do, and she's also familiar with muggle science. There are few as qualified as her to investigate scimagic therapies."
"All the better to have an expert; it appears that the Italians are significantly more creative with combining magical and muggle techniques than us Brits," Draco said.
"Which is why I get frustrated with the researchers at Mungo's," Hermione muttered under her breath. Draco chuckled.
"You won that case; let it go."
Blaise laughed. "You're asking the Hermione Granger to let something go?"
"Touche," Draco acknowledged.
"Anyways, Hermione, I did want to make sure I'm clear on the foreign corporation law. Let me paraphrase back to you what I understand. So, assuming that the Medicis' acquisition goes through, they can use Chemagic as a distributor for their products as much as they like, but they'll still have to register as a foreign corporation that has a domestic distribution and manufacturing location?" Blaise asked.
"That's correct," Hermione said. "Since Chemagic will become part of the Medici Pharmaceutical parent company, Chemagic will be treated as Medici Pharmaceutical would be with or without the acquisition. The only thing that Medici Pharmaceutical gains by the acquisition is a domestic location for manufacturing and distribution, which does have some downstream benefits because any product manufactured at the domestic site will not be subject to tariffs the same way that imported products will. But other than a couple of property permits, everything else will be treated as a foreign corporation. Chemagic's business licenses will need to be updated to reflect their foreign status, and their income tax is going to be quite messy. I'm not a tax solicitor, so that would be an area which should be delegated to one of my colleagues if we need detailed information."
"All of that makes sense to me; we can always send for some extra advice if we need it," Blaise said. "And what of Chemagic's intellectual property? Do all of their originator claims transfer to Medici Pharmaceutical?"
"Assuming they sign it over during the acquisition, yes," Hermione said. "Unless they want it to fall into public domain, which wouldn't make much business sense."
"That would be honestly ridiculous," Draco agreed.
"I'm surprised things have been so smooth on the intellectual property front," Hermione said. "They initially put up such resistance, but once we got Clemencio and Stefano to agree, we haven't seen any friction since. It's quite the miracle."
Blaise and Draco were a bit quiet after Hermione's remarks. She looked at the two questioningly. "Did I say something?"
"A bit too miraculous, I think," Draco noted, brows furrowed. Blaise nodded in agreement.
"Well, we'll simply have to keep an eye on it, then," Blaise said. "Nothing to do but that."
Hermione tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps they want this much more than we thought. That provides us considerable leverage."
"Of course they do," Draco said. "They need to expand their market; you've seen their portfolio. Beyond a couple of generic potions, their portfolio consists largely of treatments for rare diseases. That is in essence exactly their problem, though: the rarity. Once they have grown to saturate the Italian markets of perhaps a few thousand patients, they can only expand further if they look internationally. We, as Brits, are the most appealing market right now. We do not have the same amount of domestic competitors that the Germans and Swiss do, and the French are facing a bit of turmoil with their own blood purity politics. The Spanish, well, are known to never do anything in an efficient manner. We also have the fastest growing wizarding population of the major European countries, thanks to the baby boom after the war. They want us more than we want them," Draco concluded.
"Good point. Especially since they have products for chronic conditions, it makes sense for them to target a growing population base where the future will guarantee a broader customer population," Hermione noted.
Blaise and Draco nodded in agreement. "That ought to make our life a bit easier. Well, I expect that the Medicis will finish filing all of the remaining acquisition forms with the Ministry in the next couple of days, and we can then start the Potion and Cures approval process since all of the company naming and ownership will be straightened out. Hopefully, we'll get the fast track," said Blaise. "That will be all for today."
"Thanks Blaise," Hermione said. She and Draco exited the office, heading down to Blaise's wine cellars for a suitable open space to practice Draco's patronus. Both processed the past day in silence, their footsteps echoing on the marble floors of the hallway.
"It's much quieter now that Parkinson isn't here," Hermione mentioned, breaking the silence. Draco gave a short laugh.
"The whole atmosphere is less acidic as well. My skin is positively clogged without her constant chemical exfoliation," Draco remarked.
"Your narcissism could use some of that, too," Hermione said. "Truthfully, a full acid bath. Highest concentration possible, really."
"I'm afraid you will find my narcissism quite impervious. Withstands even the most significant of blows."
"As if you had to remind me of that," Hermione quipped. "Yet, as the stone gives way to the slow knife of a flowing river, perhaps too your narcissism shall ebb."
"How poetic; have you been reading much? My goodness, what am I saying? I hardly need an answer to that question," Draco said.
"Perhaps the Italian humidity is addling your mind," Hermione suggested.
"Quite," Draco laughed. Draco breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the bottom of the stairs and navigated their way through the cavernous potions labs. On either side of the main walkway, countless cauldrons simmered with multi-colored liquids. They finally entered the wine cellars. "It's much cooler here."
"Fantastic observation," Hermione said. "Astounding insight. A ground-breaking discovery, in fact. Shall I call the Prophet?"
"You could enlarge your sarcasm instead," Draco drawled. "I daresay that my winning personality traits have begun to influence you."
"Oh no," Hermione mock-cried. "What have you done to me?"
"Not enough, judging by the state of your hair," Draco said. "And to think that I thought your hair was enormous in Scotland, a far cry from the Mediterranean moisture in which we now swim."
"Disappointment," Hermione stated.
"A familiar feeling with your hair styling?"
"More the feeling I have with your decidedly uncreative quips."
"A rare emotion then," Draco said.
"If only," Hermione smiled. "All right, patronus time. Do you have a stronger memory compared to last time?"
Draco sighed. "I told you that I might very well be hopeless. The memories from my childhood are now spoilt by a more mature and critical eye, and I can't help but believe that my adolescent and adult ones are far less pleasant."
Hermione placed her hands on her hips in defiance. "Last time you used a solidly mediocre memory and still conjured a silver wisp! I'm sure if you even had a passable one that you could create a non-corporeal patronus. You're quite powerful to use the memory of a simple vacation to the French Riviera to get anywhere."
"It must kill you to admit that I am powerful. It is perhaps the single most complimentary remark you have ever made in my general direction."
"Well compliments do tend to pale in comparison to the satisfaction I derive from my ferret-related remarks about you. An insult, unfortunately, to a lovely species."
"Now who's uncreative?" Draco asked.
"Still you," Hermione said. "Memory?"
"The happiest ones are from my childhood and as such are quite frankly superficial," Draco shrugged, running his hand through his hair. "It really pales in comparison to watching human torture." Draco froze for a second after the words had slipped from his mouth, his eyes sliding towards Hermione.
Hermione shrugged, acknowledging the faux pas but trying to let it wash over her. "Believe me, I can imagine." Hermione noticed Draco's shoulders loosen slightly with her reaction. "Look, it's still difficult for me, and it can trigger some traumatizing flashbacks, but I'm getting better. It's about the intention, and I know you didn't intend to hurt me."
"Good, that's reasonable," Draco said. "Admirable."
"I still have nightmares," Hermione confessed suddenly, latching on a moment of shared vulnerability.
"Honestly, I'd be surprised if you didn't. Might even consider you inhuman, but it's good to know you're just like the rest of us," Draco acknowledged. Hermione let out a short laugh before sobering.
After a pause, Draco cleared his throat. "At the risk of being insensitive... has it ever featured... that night?"
"Yes," Hermione answered without hesitation. "Unfortunately, your aunt is often the main antagonist."
Draco nodded, briefly falling silent in thought. "And... me?" Hermione shifted weight from one foot to the other. Draco winced. "Don't answer that, I'm sorry."
Hermione peered at him intently. "I'm honestly trying to remember and give you an honest answer. I truly have little to no recollection about any other people featured in my dream besides Bellatrix. Occasionally there are others, but I don't think it's ever been you."
"Good to know, I guess. I'm unremarkable," Draco said.
"Your narcissism again competes with the physical expansion of the known universe. Would you rather the opposite be true? That you'd haunt my dreams every three nights?"
"No," Draco answered, horrified. "I guess I'm just surprised by how lucky I am to not torment you unintentionally despite being there, behaving the way I did all those years past."
Hermione looked at him oddly. "Truth be told, I really tried to spend minimal brain resources on you. I succeeded. I haven't given thought to your physical existence since the end of the Battle of Hogwarts and the occasional news item about you. Don't make this all about you, because it's not and it never has been."
"Fair enough," Draco said. After a pause, "Expecto Patronum!"
This time, a large cloud of silver smoke appeared from his wand, but it couldn't quite shape itself into a decent shield.
"Concentrate a bit harder," Hermione coached, and Draco's shapeless cloud began to round along the edges before disappearing.
"Much closer!" Hermione praised.
Draco nodded, rolling his shoulders back. "Still needs to be stronger."
"Well, it could be that, or it could be the translation between the emotion and your magic. The volume of the mist looked like it could form a shield if you can concentrate hard enough."
"While that may be true, I doubt this is strong enough for a corporeal patronus."
"A fair assessment," Hermione agreed. "But it's something you can try later; if you ever run into dementors, you'll want at least the noncorporeal shield."
"I can do better," Draco said with conviction.
"Okay, well, if it's not too personal, do you want to tell me what memory you just used so I can help evaluate where it might be weak?" Hermione asked.
"No," Draco said. "It doesn't really have enough joy. Quidditch wins aren't enough, and I don't know that I've had an emotionally deep enough moment of joy."
"Hmm," Hermione thought. "Do you feel emotion at all?"
At Draco's insulted expression, Hermione tried to clarify. "I didn't mean it quite like that. what I meant was: do you numb yourself to anything that ought to spark an intense emotion? Do you let yourself feel?"
"I…" Draco paused.
"It's a sign of depression. I struggled with it for years. The trees seemed less green, the flowers less bright, the sky less blue. I didn't let myself feel pain, but I also didn't let myself feel happiness. You retreat into a shell so that no one can hurt you, but by doing so you miss out on all other emotions, too," Hermione explained.
"You're probably right," Draco said after some consideration. "Wow. I never would have thought of that."
"So, maybe you do have the right memory, or maybe you do need a stronger one. But you need to let yourself feel it. Or it won't ever be strong enough."
Draco breathed in deeply. Concentrating, he exhaled. "Expecto patronum!" Suddenly, a black swan burst out of his wand, spreading its wings and flapping them with what Hermione could only describe as graceful arrogance. It was a bird of vanity, vengeance, and anomalism. Hermione thought it suited him.
Draco stared at his preening Patronus with awe. The silvery light from his conjuring reflected off his platinum locks, and his whole profile was illuminated with a sense of joy and wonder. The barest hint of a smile, not a smirk, radiated from not just his face, but his entire being. Of all the versions of Draco Malfoy she had seen in her lifetime, Hermione decided that she liked this one the very best.
"I'm a bit put out at how ordinary she is," Draco said, and his loss of concentration was reflected by his Patronus's figure flickering out. "But she is beautiful, of course. A fitting being for my natural poise and elegance."
"Your vanity is unsettling, yet entirely on brand," Hermione noted. "But congratulations are in order! You've done it!"
Draco gave her a blinding smile, high on the satisfaction of achievement.
Hermione was reminded that for years, he had competed with her for the top marks. Though he likely had advanced preparation with private tutors, there was no denying one incredible fact: Draco Malfoy was a nerd.
"Thank you, Hermione," Draco said sincerely. "You've been an excellent professor."
"I'm hardly worthy of the title, but you're welcome." Hermione smiled. She giggled to herself.
"What?" Draco asked.
"I'm tickled by how disappointed I am that your patronus wasn't a ferret."
Draco rolled his eyes, his posture fluffing up in indignation. That only made Hermione laugh harder. "Have I ruffled your feathers?" Hermione choked out, dissolving into another fit of giggles.
Draco huffed. "A right comedian you are."
Hermione laughed harder as Draco placed his hands on his hips, reminding her of the aggressive flapping to which insulted swans were prone. Eventually, wiping tears from her eyes, Hermione was able to breathe evenly again.
Draco eyed her with exasperated amusement, but his eyes widened when Hermione launched herself in Draco's direction. "Granger-what?" his mouth muffled by Hermione's curls as she pulled him into a hug. Draco, shocked, stood awkwardly with his arms hanging limp at his sides for a few moments before bringing them around Hermione's petite frame to return the unexpected embrace.
"I'm so proud of you," Hermione said before pulling away.
The absence of Hermione's warmth suddenly felt as if he were deprived of the sun. He had to shake himself of the feeling of sudden incompleteness to respond.
"Thank you, again," Draco said earnestly. Hermione beamed at him.
"I'm starving, shall we head back to the kitchens to ask the elves for a quick snack?" Hermione asked, tuning to exit the wine cellars.
"Sure," Draco agreed, pausing for a second. "Do you still want to know?" he asked suddenly. Hermione turned back to face him, halfway already to the doorway.
"Know what?" Hermione asked.
"My memory."
At Hermione's nod, Draco continued. "The one that finally worked was at the Battle of Hogwarts - when I saw Potter come back to life - that was my happiest memory. There was hope. We wouldn't have to live in a world where... He had won."
Draco stared at the floor during his confession, but when he glanced up and met Hermione's eyes, he was surprised to see her eyes shining with unshed tears. Her empathy overwhelmed him. But behind the understanding was something more… analytical. Hermione Granger's mind was assessing him. He felt bare, naked.
He could practically hear her mental gears turning as she took in this new information and added a new piece to the puzzle that encapsulated her opinion on Draco Malfoy.
Strangely, he didn't mind that she had somehow peeled back the layers upon layers of his defenses. Draco wondered, as Hermione glimpsed his soul, what she thought about it.
AN: Wow. Life gets in the way. Honestly, I really have no excuse for the long wait. Things have been busy, but it's been hard to find the emotional energy to sit down and write again. Sorry for the 1 yr long update, but hopefully there will be more chapters coming your way in the very near future as life calms down some! Hope all of you are doing well, and that you're enjoying some solid Dramione bonding :) Drop me a note and let me know how you've been! And I've also been rusty in my writing, so let me know if you catch any errors! Miss you all!
~crucialexa