Saturday, May 31st, 2003.
When Blaise got home this Saturday, around noon, after a very long breakfast, and a session of getting kicked out of Astoria's place because she supposedly had work to do, it was only to find a very pissed off Draco, sulking on the couch. He didn't move when Blaise got closer. He had opened a bottle of firewhiskey but had apparently decided against drinking any, the bottle was still full and the glass next to it, empty. The scowl on his face, his crossed arms, and the sound of him mulling over something incomprehensible under his breath made Blaise sigh. What in Salazar's name had happened now?
"What got your knickers in a twist?" He asked.
"Nothing." Draco growled.
"Right. You're so jolly, you could have fooled me." Draco snorted and Blaise sighed again. He slumped on the couch next to the stubborn idiot, accioed another glass and poured them a drink, it wouldn't be a first to drink before one o'clock anyway. He shoved one of the full glasses in Draco's hands and said:
"Talk you bloody twat."
"Pansy fucking Parkinson." He spat.
"What's that bitch done again?"
"Guess why I was late yesterday night."
"Ah. I knew something was off. Go ahead I'm all ears."
Draco told him. Everything but the death threatening part. He didn't want Blaise to make assumptions about something that didn't even exist. By the time he was finished, Blaise was outraged.
"What does she think she's doing?" He fumed.
"Telling her little dog Theo that I'm under oath apparently."
"And who does she think she is?"
"I have no bloody idea." Draco spat helplessly. "I don't even understand what she's getting out of it!"
"Well, she pissed you off."
"Her face pisses me off. She's not that bothered anyway, so selfish she has to get something ..."
Blaise seemed to reflect on that a moment, then he shrugged:
"Maybe she thinks that if she helps Nott senior he'll have Theo marry her?"
"How does that help Nott? They didn't even try to blackmail me!" Draco growled. He'd been replaying their conversation over and over in his head all night and still didn't understand why they hadn't used that information or why she would tell them if it weren't for her own benefit. It didn't make sense.
"She bluffed then?" Tried Blaise, unconvincingly.
"I don't think so. She really looked like she'd done something wrong." And she definitely had.
"And they didn't use it? Why?" Blaise seemed as confused as he was.
"I don't know!" Draco almost shrieked frustratingly.
"Well, find out."
"How? I told her I never wanted to hear from them ever again." And if he did, he might kill someone.
"It's Pansy mate. She'll never confess having done something wrong. Bet they don't know." Right, sure. After all, she still persisted in saying she'd done nothing wrong during the battle of Hogwarts.
"So what? I keep negotiating?" He asked.
"Yes." Blaise nodded. "Find out what they want. Then, tell them to stuff their bullshit up their arse."
"More death threats to come then." Draco scowled.
"Oh come on! You can't be taking those seriously."
"I'm not. It's just annoying. It's …" Draco rubbed his face in his hands, practically digging his nails in his temples. "All that because of that bitch! I mean I was so close! I could have gotten something that finally interested me and she pokes her sodding big nose in my business again!"
"I don't even understand why you took her back after the war." Blaise frowned. "You knew how she was …"
"I didn't really take her back Blaise… I was lonely. She was the only one not too repulsed to shag." Draco confessed, bitterness screwing his face.
"And you still told her about the oath?" Blaise frowned.
"Err … I was really drunk once, and I told her that if I wanted to get rid of my father's company I had to get married and … And … Nothing! Then I shut up! Because I realised I'd spoken too much! I never told her about the heir! She only …"
"She thinks your future spouse would have a say in your company?" Blaise sounded half-incredulous, half-amused at her stupidity.
"That conniving bitch! How did I not see it? I mean, she pushed me for months before I dumped her! I just thought she wanted my vaults!"
"She wanted a say in your business. That's not surprising mate." Blaise said, shaking his head.
"Right. I still don't understand why they didn't use it. They even asked for a share they know I can't sell."
"Then they didn't believe her. You know she hasn't got the best reputation since the war … Even Stori says she's outcast from her mum's parties. Maybe they were trying to check she didn't lie first." Oh, maybe. Maybe they'd just been trying to check before incriminating themselves. Make sure that they wouldn't get in trouble, after all, Granger's department was on them more frequently that they checked on his or Blaise's business.
"So if I refuse you think they'll start the blackmail?"
"It's only a speculation but …" Shrugged Blaise.
"The only one we've got."
"Right. Keep negotiating. See if she's really told them. If she has …" He seemed to hesitate.
"What?"
"Trick her. Accept."
"I can't."
Blaise didn't say anything and just kept watching Draco with expectant eyes, apparently still decided not to voice it. Draco didn't push him. He'd told Granger already, by letter of course, and it had been hard enough that he didn't need Blaise's comments.
If she could break the oath, he could sell the shares. Nott and Flint would think Pansy was a load of bullshit and keep their mouths shut, and the bitch wouldn't get a sickle.
If she couldn't … They'd threaten him to tell everyone probably. Which would definitely crush the oh-so-very fragile start of approximatively correct reputation he had. What would people, and mostly less tinted associates, think if they knew he'd been under his father's hands all along?
He couldn't afford that. They'd make him empty his vaults, they'd ask for everything he could give away, the shops, his shares in other companies, Black heirlooms, anything. He'd end up broke. He didn't even have that much left! That sodding company had cost him so much to recast that most of their family wealth had been engulfed in it. That's why he'd needed their investment in the first place! He couldn't afford to reopen the shops by himself.
The only things they couldn't get were the company and the manor. He'd be trapped. Between those two horrid places, broke, and spend his life trying to keep the business from drowning.
Hermione folded the very short note and put it aside. He'd changed his mind. Draco Malfoy had changed his mind, swallowed back his pride, and asked for her help. Indirectly though, he'd just written that if her offer still held, he'd like to meet. He'd also asked her to keep it silent.
Still, it was a step. Whatever it was, it had to be damn important.
She grabbed a scroll of parchment, cut a piece from it, and dipped her quill in ink. Then, as his owl hadn't stayed, as if he didn't believe she'd answer, she got out of her building, into her crappy street, and to the dead end she used to disapparate.
It was ridiculous that she'd never gotten an owl of her own. Since she'd decided that Pigwidgeon was too old to deliver mail, she'd used the Ministry owls. She'd never received much personal mail since she worked at the Ministry and had always been able to reach her err … ex-friends via notes, and her parents always wrote from Australia via the muggle mail. Now that she was alone though, and if she were to help Malfoy without anyone knowing at work - they still checked the mail thanks to Harry's paranoia - she'd need one.
So, Hermione apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. She nodded to Tom, and got out on the courtyard. She heard the whispers as soon as she'd passed Fortescue's. She ignored them. Then she remembered that Witch Weekly had probably written something about her and Zabini.
She chuckled for herself, and lifted her chin. She walked down the uneven pavement, passed Madam Malkin's, the narrow street that lead to the apothecary, Flourish and Blott's that was crowded and apparently presenting a new collection of potion books, and reached Eeylops Owl Emporium. She held her chin high the entire time, and saw the looks. She didn't care for them a bit.
She got out the pet shop with a small Tawny owl, that had looked at her sadly, a whole bag of treats, and a cage, wondering how she would name the bird.
She still got the looks. An old lady even stopped before her to frown disapprovingly at her. That was it. When she reached the paper's stand, she bought her first Witch Weekly in many years.
The last time she'd read that pile of crap, it said she had an affair with Harry, and possibly the Minister of Magic, for getting such an important position so young. She didn't open it until she was back to her flat, wouldn't do to loose her mind in public.
At first, she laughed. Aloud. The sad owl she'd been petting jumped out of her lap to go back to its cage. She'd never laughed this hard in her entire life. Then, she realised that the looks she'd gotten meant that some people believed this load of crap. It was still funny. Maybe she should send George a copy, he'd definitely like the mention. She decided to send it for Zabini instead, and joined it to her answer to Malfoy. She didn't really know how George would take the joke. He'd been friendly enough but it still involved Zabini.
Blaise had kept his mouth shut. Draco wished he'd just said something. It was their fourth drink, and he'd kept glooming on his misery. The lad had fetched an old prophet, and was even pretending to read.
His eyes weren't moving.
"Stop trying to look smart." Draco snapped. Blaise sighed, and folded the paper before answering:
"What do you want me to do? There's that hypogriph in the room but you made it really clear you don't care for my opinion. And seeing the mood you're in, I doubt you'd wish to talk about the Holyhead Harpies' poor score this season. Seems that since the Weaslette's on maternity leave they're falling. Hard."
"Err …"
"See? Now …" Tap, tap, tap. A small tawny owl was at the window. Draco jumped on his feet but Blaise was closer. He snatched the somehow heavy letter off the bird's paw.
"Granger?" He smirked. "Oooh! Love letters?" That wasn't funny. At all.
"No you stupid wanker. I asked for her help."
"You did?" He startled.
"Yes. And you don't get to brag about it or say anything. Give that letter." Draco warned. He was sure Blaise's neighbour could feel the lad's mirth through the wards. He still gave the letter to Draco, and started mumbling under his breath while the last opened it.
Malfoy,
Is meeting at my office out? If not, come there Monday morning. If so, would tomorrow afternoon, two o'clock be alright with you? You pick the place.
H Granger.
P.S: I joined the last Witch Weekly for Zabini, feel free to read it first. Should be entertaining.
Blaise snatched the letter from his hands and Draco unfolded the copy of the gossip magazine she'd sent him. After only a few seconds Blaise was reading above his shoulder too.
Blaise Zabini, well-known bachelor, manipulated?
It has been reported to our offices that the very handsome, yet somehow not-so-smart, bachelor has been spotted out of Witchety clothing (well-known for their beautiful wedding gowns) with none other that the famous war heroine, Hermione Granger, under his arm.
The witch, recently divorced from war hero Ronald Weasley, and the least expected choice for this handsome man, harboured a fond smile as Blaise Zabini lead her out of the prestigious shop. One of the saleswoman has testified that the couple looked "enamoured", if oddly-matched. The man would even have defended her against one of their old schoolmates whose name we'll keep quiet.
Nobody will believe that the bachelor prefers brains over looks though. If his previous conquests are of any relevance, it is found very strange that he'd pick Granger in the large crowd of beauties ready to fall at his feet.
While Granger isn't exactly ugly, she's still very fond of Ministry robes and unruly hair, among other outdated shoes, and is also very small and probably malnourished.
Whereas Zabini's smile would make any of us melt, his athletic physics only adding drool to our mouths, and his taste in fashion has been copied by all wizarding gentlemen over the years.
But yet, it is well known that his brains don't match the trial winning Ministry official. Maybe Granger, now head of department for two years, has decided to fool around? Maybe after enduring the famously short-tempered redhead she's decided to have a little fun? Or is it all about his money and privilege?
How does she do? You'd ask. Well, we have the answer. Her ties with the Weasley joke shop are common knowledge and our reporters suspect the use of love potion.
A witch as clever as she, could definitely trick the poor man into drinking his daily dose without him suspecting a thing.
How far is Hermione Granger ready to go to obtain what she wants? From having an affair with the boy who lived, Harry Potter, while married to his best friend, in order to get a position in the Ministry, to using her ties with the new Prime Minister to climb the ladder until she was named head of department, and now drugging a poor man into loving her, how far will she go before someone stops her?
"Wow. Even Greengrass couldn't predict that." Draco didn't know if he was supposed to laugh or be horrified.
"Stupid! They're calling me stupid!" Blaise barked.
"And handsome." Draco minimised, still unable to erase the wide smirk that had taken his mouth.
"But stupid! Easily manipulated! Tricked!" Blaise fumed.
"Too pretty for Granger." He added, ready to burst out laughing.
"That's not even true! They're just jealous! A bunch of Pansy's! That's what they are!" Draco blinked. What had he said? "Those bloody bastards! What? Something to add maybe?" Blaise was outraged but Draco couldn't go over what he'd just said.
"You find Granger pretty?"
"Well, are you blind?" Blaise frowned, his previous anger forgotten.
"But …"
"What? Her hair? Even you can't be that superficial. She's not some model beauty like Stori but she's pretty enough." He shrugged. When Draco didn't say anything, his head suddenly empty, Blaise smirked:
"Tell her to come over here tomorrow. I'll have Stori fetch her." That unfroze Draco.
"You're not putting Greengrass in the middle of this and we're not discussing the oath here." He warned.
"Why not? She already knows and she works with Granger now. We could use her opinion. Plus, she's sneaky enough to find out about Pansy's bullshit. One stone two birds. Three birds, if we get Granger to lift your mood again."
"What?"
"Oh come on! You liked our little diner last night, didn't you?" Again? When would he stop being stupid? Draco didn't even bother to contradict him, as Granger had said herself, it was his issue.
"Sod off." He sighed instead but Blaise didn't seem to be ready to stop.
"Oh, Granger, do you remember how to levitate bullshit? Oh but I do Malfoy, it was so much fun! Let's ignore our friends for two hours and …"
"I'm warning you Blaise, stop that." Draco hissed between clenched teeth. Blaise was utterly unimpressed:
"Oh sorry. Of course if you'd prefer to meet her alone …" That was it.
"Salazar Blaise I swear if you don't stop your charade right now, I'll hex you. Besides, you spent the night snogging and bickering with Greengrass, we had no choice but to try and have a conversation. Now, I asked her help only because I have no other choice. You are going to keep your nose out of this. Am I being clear?" He roared angrily. Blaise had stopped smirking.
"Crystal. But still … That was a hell of a conversation." He still challenged quietly. Draco decided he didn't want to argue. Instead, he'd reverse the mockery:
"Well, she's smart. Which you're not. Even Witch Weekly says it's well-known."
"Shut up!"
"Smart retort."
"Wanker!"