Sunday, June 1st, 2003.

Granger,

Your office is fine on Monday, if you make sure that no one hears why I'm there. Even Greengrass, Blaise is insufferable enough. Let me know what time would be best.

I enjoyed the article by the way, I found very 'entertaining' the part where they call Blaise stupid. He didn't like it so much to my greatest pleasure.

Thank you.

D Malfoy

OOO

My dear "love" Hermione,

Stop manipulating me into loving you, my heart is already taken by a real pretty witch.

On more serious matter, I didn't get a chance to tell you Friday, (you were too busy talking with Draco to see me anyway), I have met one of the Weasleys before joining you at Witchety. The one who owns the love potion/joke shop. He asked me to tell you that he was still waiting for your visit.

Is he bothering you? I can kick his arse if you'd like.

See you when I pick up Astoria tomorrow BEFORE six o'clock,

Blaise.

Malfoy,

Nine would be perfect, I don't have any appointments until eleven. Don't worry about it, I won't tell anyone, even Astoria. Client meetings are confidential anyway and nobody will suspect anything more than another control.

I'm glad you enjoyed it, I hadn't laughed this hard in years. Wait until they spot him with Astoria though. It should get even more 'interesting' then.

Don't thank me yet.

H Granger.

OOO

Blaise, my not-so-dear love,

It's not my fault you are so stupid.

Thank you for telling me, and don't worry he's not bothering me. Glad to know you like me so much you'd be ready to kick arses for me.

See you when you pick up Astoria tomorrow, at SEVEN we've got a lot of work.

Hermione.

Monday, June 2nd, 2003.

The shortest encounter ever.

It didn't last more that a dozen minutes. He was in and then out of her office before Hermione had the time to really process what he'd told her.

He arrived, right on time, and entered as soon as she'd answered his soft knock. He nodded stiffly and sat facing her. Then he handed her a file he'd been holding and, without further ado, said in one streak:

"I'm under contracted oath. My father's work. It keeps me tied to the family business. I want out. I can't bear with it any longer. The only way out that's specified is to have a heir of age to whom I'd will it. Which I refuse to think about. I won't force that on a child, ever. There's no loophole as far as I could see. I'm stuck with the company. I can't sell, delegate too much or even donate. Nothing."

She took a moment before answering. How was it that he managed such a blank face when saying something like that? It was awful and yet he just seemed bored. The other times Hermione had been able to at least notice hints of his moods. Then, he was impossible to read. Calm, controlled. It had to be horrific for him to try this hard to hide from her.

It was horrific anyway. It was the company of his terrible father, which he'd had to recast entirely, under her strict control. It mustn't have been easy. Especially since he'd apparently rather have done anything but that in his life. Hermione remembered the way his eyes had lit a tad when he'd spoken about opening a potion shop, he'd looked enthusiastic. Well, as much as Draco Malfoy could look, which resumed to looking mildly interested.

And he'd been forced to. If he wanted out, he had to get married and his own son, Lucius' grandson, would inherit the deed.

How twisted.

He had to be hanging on the last thread to come to her. Especially after refusing before.

"How long do I have?" She asked eventually, the 'before you loose your mind' on the tip of her tongue staying implicit.

"There's no set date. There might be one soon though, I'll let you know." Damn. Was someone pressuring him?

"Blackmail?" She blurted. He didn't answer, his gaze resolutely glued to a point above her shoulder. "Who?" She asked in a sudden surprising bout of anger.

"It's doesn't matter. I don't care." He droned. That was a lie. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have been there.

"I can help with that too you know." She answered warily.

"You'll do enough if you even read through this. I don't expect you to find anything anyway." He countered, his tone still oddly flat. He had no hope then. She knew better than to insist though, but wanted him to believe he could trust her, so she sighed:

"So little faith in me Malfoy it's disappointing." That little comment had the benefit to at least shadow the ghost of a smile on his mouth. It didn't last long.

"It's my father's doing." He said, as if it were the argument that put a definite end to the conversation. Just then, she saw something in his eyes. It flashed and then was gone, hidden. Despair. It clenched her throat.

"Any detail that might help?" She queried, knowing the answer already.

"I don't think so. It's all written there."

"If you think of anything just write."

"I'll do. Thank you." He then stood to go and just before he'd stepped outside her office she promised, out of nowhere:

"I'll find something Malfoy."

"Yeah." He said, his back still to her.

It took her a second after he left to decide that she wouldn't stop until she found something. He wasn't even hopeful. She presumed he'd come only because someone was using this against him. She'd find out who. She would.

No one should live without hope. And Malfoy looked so hollow. She'd make this right. He deserved it. He deserved it?

Yes, he did. He'd been stuck in this whole mess since the war. He'd had no respite. He'd been forced to handle the company, and his tarnished reputation. He'd been, again, forced to obey his scumbag of a father, even after the last was dead and six feet under. This oath, it even chose for him what kind of personal life he could live. It was ... Awful.

And now someone was trying to take advantage of him. How bad someone's life could be?

That man had lived under the same roof as Voldemort for Merlin's sake! She had to break it.

Hermione started reading right away and after only a few sentences she was already wondering how he hadn't burnt the whole company building down. After a few pages, she realised that it was specified that destroying the premises was one, forbidden, and two, if it ever were to happen accidentally the leader would have to find another location within three days.

This thing was far too detailed. Everything she thought about was countered in the next page. As if Lucius bloody Malfoy had thought of everything. In the precise order she thought of it.

It triggered her curiosity. Much more than anything else had before. This reeked or dark magic.

This reeked of Lucius Malfoy.

Tuesday, June 3rd, 2003.

Blaise found Astoria really busy when he opened the door to her flat, really late that evening. She'd written that she'd had a lot of work, and that if he came to pick her up, they'd kick him out.

Blaise was not stupid, contrary to popular belief apparently, and he had decided against bearing with the Ministry's security just to get kicked out right after.

Stori was reading a very long scroll when he entered, and she didn't even lift her face from it to acknowledge him. Scrolls and books were scattered all over the couch around her, even on the floor, and she seemed so deep in thoughts that he stared a bit at her raven hair and folded legs before finally clearing his throat.

"I'm almost done for tonight." She greeted, not even looking at him.

"You're done actually."

"No. Go to the kitchen there's wine." Which meant: pour me a glass I'm in over my head. Blaise obliged. She played dirty when she was drunk. When he came back she was shrinking the scrolls so they'd fit in her attaché-case. She sighed once she was done, and took the glass of wine he handed her before slumping back on the couch tiredly.

"Is my future fiancée giving you a hard time?" He asked, sitting next to her. She snuggled against him and didn't answer until she was comfortably crushing his left arm against the backrest. He didn't protest, he could paw her bosom.

"You didn't tell me that Draco had finally asked Hermione to break the oath." She said, ignoring his question entirely.

"How do you know?"

"He came at the department yesterday. I checked, his next control isn't for another five months."

"Err … They're not discreet."

"No, but who cares? Tracey won't ask and I already knew that it was only a matter of time."

"Still, they should be careful."

"Why?"

"Showing his face at the Ministry too often could make people suspicious."

"Of what? For all people know he's giving reports on investments or answering controls."

"Right. If you say so." Blaise concluded. Astoria didn't know about Pansy, she couldn't know that if it were to fall on Nott's of Flint's ears that Draco was seeing the head of Law Enforcement they would guess he was on them.

"Is it that awful? The oath I mean." She continued. "Hermione asked me to review all her notes on my own. She spent the afternoon locked in her office cursing, loudly. I could hear from my office."

"Err … It has to be. It's Lucius' work. "

"You never read it?" She startled, turning to him and crushing his arm even further into the couch, bosom out of reach and all.

"No, he never let me. Said there was nothing to be done anyway, that he'd have found it if there were a loophole." She nodded thoughtfully and turned back to her previous position, her head settling under his chin. He grabbed her left breast possessively.

"Well, it is well-known that you don't live up to Hermione's cleverness." She said after a moment. He couldn't see the smirk but he knew it was there.

"Yes, but then no one really is." He said, lowering his face to murmur in her ear: "I've got a few assets Granger lacks severely though." She chuckled.

"Oh, and what would those be?" She breathed in a soft voice.

"Finish your drink and you'll find out." She didn't bother.

Thursday, June 5th, 2003.

Hermione woke up with a start. She was curled up on her sofa, a scroll on her face. The first thought that came to her mind as she pushed away the offending piece of paper, was how she hated Lucius Malfoy. How she was so frustrated that he'd died, for she couldn't kill him herself.

Hermione had spent the last four days peeling off the contract Malfoy had brought her.

It was dark magic, it was an evolving piece of monstrous dark magic.

The man, no, the monster had inflicted that on his own son. How could someone do that to his own son?

She snorted for herself. Lucius Malfoy had let his son take the same Mark as he had, he'd invited the darkest wizard of all times in his home, raised his son in prejudice, maimed, killed and tortured people. It wasn't really surprising that his own interest, his bullshit blood-line had mattered more than his own flesh and blood.

Still, Lucius Malfoy was lucky he was dead.

Hermione didn't have a satisfying solution to Malfoy's ordeal. She had dug a way to play it but it had too many variables. She had to find something else. Something that would break the contract without Draco having to suffer more consequences.

She just had to.

It was all she could think about. Until she reached Tracey's desk that morning. The witch was already there, and apparently she had a lot to do:

"Morning." She greeted. "The PM came by five minutes ago, he said that the Montgomery case you're working on is a priority. He's dropped the last report from the Auror's office and the man is accused of a lot more than before. You should read it. Astoria shouldn't be long." Hermione grabbed the report from her hands, and started perusing it. Dear Merlin.

"I see. How did you know to come early?"

"I didn't come for that. I've seen you were both really busy since Monday and I wanted to get ahead on paperwork to help you but …" She frowned, well, more than usual.

"What?"

"Well it seems that the case has leaked in the press and we're receiving a ton of letters from idiots that feel like their opinion is important."

"Err … Could you …"

"Already on it. If there's anything that seems relevant I'll let you know." Thank Merlin for Tracey Davis.

"Thank you."

"I'm only doing my job." She shrugged, returning to the pile of mail she'd been reading through.

It didn't take long until Hermione was joined by an equally exhausted Astoria Greengrass, though the state of her hair made her wonder whether it resulted from work or being worked upon.

Draco closed the door behind him and sat at his desk. His assistant, whom he still didn't know the first name, had given him a letter that morning.

A letter from Nott senior.

Draco dreaded what could be inside. If they'd been wrong and Pansy had told them about their little encounter, that letter would be asking for a meeting, so the blackmail could start.

If by chance, she hadn't, it meant that they were getting impatient. He still hadn't given them an answer to their proposition. He'd been buying some time for Granger to find something.

Even though he knew it was useless to hope, he still had a little faith in her brains. Very little faith, it was his father's work after all. She could be as brilliant as she wanted, his father had been too.

And she hadn't written. Blaise had told him that she'd been working on it, but that he didn't know a thing since she'd kept her word and hadn't told Greengrass about it. The pretty witch had figured it out all by herself. Nosey she was.

Draco took a deep breath, and opened the letter.

A delay. They were giving him a week to answer their proposition, pretexting having other opportunities to invest their money in. He had to send his counter-proposition before next Thursday. Shit. He had a week left. A week and then they'd probably come knocking at his office door, asking for whatever crossed their minds.

His only exit was to break the oath.

Not having heard from Granger was nerve wrecking. After answering Nott that he was considering their proposition seriously, and that they'd receive his answer in time, he took a drink. It was only nine o'clock, things were going back to what they were before.

No, after pushing the glass away, he grabbed his quill and wrote to Granger.

Hermione only reached her front door around midnight that night. She could hear noise from the landing. A strong impression of déjà-vu took her as she remembered Malfoy's owl breaking an useless vase.

She hadn't left the window open this time though. She yanked the door open, and found her own owl, which she still hadn't named, ululating like a banshee at the window, where Malfoy's owl was furiously tapping its beak on the glass.

She sighed and lowered her wand, thanking her cautious brain for warding the place against muggles and eventually opened the window. His owl was disdainful. It landed on her shoulder, beaked her ear angrily, and flew away as soon as she'd freed his paw from the letter.

Sodding little thing.

Her own little thing settled on her lap once she'd sat on her couch to open the letter. It looked at her expectantly and she started petting it with a hand as she accioed a treat with the other. She gave it to the small bird, and it nestled against her belly.

She really needed to name it.

Which wasn't as important as the letter she'd put next to her on the couch. She opened it.

Granger,

Have you found the time to read the file I brought you? If so, could we meet? I'd like to help.

D Malfoy