Thursday, June 26th, 2003.
Encounters from the past.
Draco apparated to the company building that day, ready for the meeting that was scheduled an hour from then.
A potential buyer.
Negotiations.
Freedom.
This was going to be a very good but boring day.
He walked in, took the lift, nodded to his secretary, and walked to his office.
He hadn't expected to find his mother waiting for him on the visitor's chair.
"Mother?" He startled. Her sleek blond hair reached her waist now. It was all Draco could see until she turned around slowly, poised as ever. Draco knew better.
"Son." She gave, although the tone she employed indicated all but a motherly greeting. Her face gave nothing away but polite beauty, as usual. She was as stunning as she'd been months ago. She didn't even seem to age.
"What's the purpose of your visit?" He asked, balancing his words as to sound mildly interested, just as she'd taught him. Surely she hadn't come after months of silence to take news of her 'son' but it had been so long that Draco couldn't help but try. She went straight to the point though:
"Your father's portrait has lost his ability to travel from the Manor's portraits to this one." That felt like she'd poured a tall glass of iced water down the back of his shirt.
Draco frowned at the frame next to the window. Now that he thought of it, it was indeed strange that his father's shadow hadn't paid him a visit. Especially since the last time they'd talked he'd thrown in his face that he was going to break the oath, and his precious caned wand. Maybe by doing so he had altered some of the magic that permitted the portrait to move much more than any other. He had only two portraits after all, one in his office, one in the master bedroom.
"Here to deliver your message yourself then?"
"Yes." She confirmed curtly.
Draco sighed and went to sit at his desk. Facing his mother wasn't something he'd thought he'd be doing anytime soon. It was rather difficult to maintain a blank face especially since she evidently had no intention to make peace. She seemed utterly unbothered. She wasn't.
"I'm listening." He said under her pointed stare. He could see the hint of determination that was imperceptible to any other eye. He waited as she took the polite amount of time to answer:
"I want you to yield me the company." She stated. Just like that.
"Yield?" He wondered.
"Yes. You owe me as much." She nodded, her pale blue eyes glinting with something Draco knew by heart: warning. He wasn't supposed to argue. He did anyway:
"Owe you? How so?" He asked, as calmly as possible. He had to clench a fist under the desk. It was not proper to hide your hands when having a conversation. He was supposed to keep them either flat on the desk, either joined in pretend interest. He didn't give a damn. Her eyes shifted to his lowered arm before she answered, looking at him straight in the eyes:
"You ruined your father's last day on earth." She stated, bitterness quite evident in her tone. "Wasted his heritage away by changing even this seat. You broke his wand. Without my permission." The last words shattered the usual polite half-smile on her face. Nothing was new though and Draco was tired of justifying his acts. He'd done what he had to do.
"I need the money." He countered, thinking it wiser to ignore what she'd just said.
"You should have thought of that when you decided to spit on your name." Like those kind of orders worked on him still. He decided against retaliating the threat.
"Make an offer." He kept his ground.
"I'm sure I heard you wrong." Her voice trembled dangerously low then, but he didn't care. Not any more. If she wanted war instead of ignorance, if she'd decided peace wouldn't ever be an option, then, she'd get exactly that.
"No, you didn't. Make an offer mother. If it weren't for me being trapped here, the company would have been closed by Law. You will make an offer and the company will go to the highest bidder."
"How dare you …" She started, finally loosing her nerves.
"This is quite enough mother." He cut. "You come here after denying my mere existence since father died, claiming something that doesn't belong to you. Something I'm sure you knew I would be trapped with like a vulgar slave. The only person I owe anything to is Hermione Granger and she isn't asking for a thing."
"Hermione Granger? Potter's …"
"Choose your words wisely mother. If it weren't for her I would be rotting here for ever."
"You wouldn't have if you'd followed your father's instructions and married a suitable woman!" She gave, her voice threatening to become high.
"And then what?" He hissed, loosing all his manners with those three little words. Next, he barked: "Willed this horrid place to an innocent child?!"
"Horrid? Horrid?" Now she'd lost it. "How dare you sully your father's toil! He worked his entire life to provide for you!" She practically shrieked.
"Do you even know what was going on in this building mother? Or were you so blinded that you never saw?"
"How dare you speak to me this way!" She drawled.
"Or maybe you agreed. Did you?"
"With what exactly?"
"You don't know. You have no idea." He startled. "Let me show you something mother." Draco stood, bolted up and rounded the desk to a shelf next to the door. He unwarded the section and retrieved the first record he'd ever read after taking the lead. This should do. There were fifteen pages about how his father had earned all he'd possessed. About his supposed 'toil'. About his scamming of muggle companies, his obliviating to vanish evidences, about his selling of dark artifacts, his blackmailing of Ministry officials, the list was long. The report, supposed to be destroyed.
"Here. Read this." He spat, tossing the file in front of her, and sat back down. His mother, although very angry, revealed more curious than so. She started reading. It was the first time in his life that Draco saw anything more than contempt or poised joy on her face. He had never seen fear on her features, even when Voldemort had lived under their roof, she'd been a wall, her emotions always concealed, protecting herself from the others.
Even from him.
At that moment, her gaze grew wide as he was certain she recognised the handwriting. Her hands started trembling, but she read the whole document.
Without pause.
Then, she slowly put it on the desk. It took her several minutes of silence to regain her composure.
When he face had smoothed and her emotions were concealed once again, she asked:
"Would you care to send me the most recent one?"
Draco accioed it. He handed it to her.
She read it too.
He didn't dare hope that she'd come to her senses but the little spark was there nonetheless.
It was crushed as soon as she put the last report down.
She stood and walked away without a word.
"Mother …"
She pretended not to hear him.
A minute after, his secretary was at his door, biding him to come to the meeting room. The potential buyers, yes plural apparently, had arrived.
Hermione sent Tiny with her answer to Draco, first thing that morning. Then, she decided to walk to the Ministry. The whether was already hot this early in the morning, and it was hoping that she'd arrived at her desk to a new trial that she let her leather shoes clack on the pavement.
Except the lack of actual work, everything was fine.
The sun was burning hot and its reflects on the windows blinded her just so that she had to look at her shoes while she walked. It felt good.
For the first time in months, probably years, nothing was bothering her.
It wasn't normal.
It felt very odd.
Her sodding mind started playing out what could possibly go wrong two turns away from the Ministry. Never, ever, once in her life had she felt at peace like that.
Except for the lack of work but it would come around. It always did.
She reached the visitor's entrance, dialled the code in the red telephone booth, went down to the atrium, encountered no one susceptible to annoy her, arrived at her department to an already busy Tracey, took the pile of mail the goggled witch handed her with a smile and a 'good morning' and strode to her office.
Oh, Nott's company control was approaching. She smiled, that should be interesting. She viciously looked forward to it.
Yes, something bad was going to happen.
Even with Astoria gone for the day though, she found herself devoid of any real work to do by one o'clock. She hurried herself in the archives until three. Something had tickled her eyes about potion ingredients importation. Something she'd discussed already with Stori for Ernie McMillan. She went back to her office to take notes. She was deeply engrossed in it when a loud crashing sound echoed and she found herself wand drawn, facing the green gaze of a very disgruntled Harry Potter in her small fireplace. She remained rooted to the spot.
"Em. Hermione?"
"What?" She asked warily.
"Could we … could we have a word? If you're not busy that is." He seemed utterly uncomfortable.
"I am." She gave curtly.
"I know there's no trials coming." He countered.
"What do you want?" She sighed.
"Could I tell you in person? This is rather uncomfortable." He grimaced.
"Depends. Are you coming to insult me?" She taunted albeit warily.
"No."
She nodded. Only. He disappeared from the earth to reappear entirely.
She sat behind her desk while he dusted his robes and waited for him to sit facing her, which he didn't.
"Could we go somewhere else? I mean …" He started.
"No. What do you want?"
"I … I owe you apologies." Hermione felt her eyebrow shoot up to her hairline as Harry's green orbs wrinkled in wariness.
"Do you?"
He started fidgeting with his glasses, taking them off, smudging them with the hem of his robes, putting them back on. He was not good at this, Hermione was perfectly conscious of that, but with the way he'd treated her, he deserved to be uncomfortable.
"Yes. I'm sorry. I regret how I treated you before … I think I don't know half of what happened between you and Ron and I got blind-sided … I shouldn't have picked a side I really regret it …" He blurted hurriedly, looking about to melt into the ground. Hermione knew she shouldn't but she couldn't help the vicious feeling of satisfaction. She had to concentrate hard not to have it show on her face though. And she wasn't about to forgive him that easily. As Draco had said, he'd made her cry. As Stori had said, he'd better beg at her feet.
"Okay." She simply said. He squinted his eyes shut a second and took a deep breath then, probably trying to choose his words wisely.
"I just … could we talk? Over coffee? Somewhere out of work, calmly? You could … you could talk to me like you used to … before I was pointed head Auror?" She frowned, and he continued, burying himself even deeper. "Look I've been as neglecting as you've been with the promotion … you know how it goes …"
"No I don't." She warned. He winced, openly, but still kept going:
"We stopped talking after your first … you know … after you lost it. It was the same time I got my promotion, and you yours."
"I beg you pardon?" She hissed and he gulped. "Are you blaming work now?" Surely he wasn't, right? She'd snap.
"No I'm not. You know I'm not good at this, alright? It's just … I miss you." He pleaded, and Hermione had to admit he almost made up for the lame atrocious excuse he'd just made. Still, it wasn't enough. Indulgence seemed to have left her when he was concerned.
"You've been ignoring me for months, you came to insult me …" She started.
"I didn't mean it. You have to know I was just …" He cut.
"What Harry?" She snapped. And then she knew something was wrong. Even before the words left his mouth. He had the same look on his face she'd seen countless time at Hogwarts. That half-guilty, half-annoyed frown he always had when being caught.
"I didn't understand. But Ron's being incoherent and I …" Ron. Of course.
"Why are you here Harry?" She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index. He stopped pretending then. Hermione didn't know if she should feel relieved as he sighed, took a step and finally sat in the chair facing her. His brows were almost knitted together in concern as he spoke the real reason why he'd come:
"Look Mione something's off I feel like he's …" But Hermione didn't want to hear it.
"Ron?" She spat. "This is about Ron? You want to make peace for …"
"No!" He cut. "Yes. I … SHIT. He's not himself Mione I feel like something's wrong."
"What do I care Harry? Why are you even here?"
"To apologise, make peace."
"Oh really? So it's not because you're worried about your precious little Ron?"
"Really." He stressed and she could see the truth in his eyes but she didn't care as he continued: "I really want to make peace. And something's off with him. No please let me finish! He's gotten himself two warnings Mione, by Kingsley in person. He's been violent and incoherent and it made me realise that I was wrong to side with him and blame you too. I just …"
"Is that why Arthur's been talking to Kingsley?" She asked, knowing the answer already.
"Yes, he tried to tamper things." He scowled, clearly he didn't like the idea.
Something else came to mind then:
"Is that why you had Ron's interview cancelled?" She asked and again, she knew the answer in the way he refrained from cringing.
"Yes, if the press had …"
"What did he say about me?" She queried.
"I … I …" He stuttered. She huffed. She'd known, right? Even Stori had known.
"You know Harry, I never let you down. Ever. He did. And yet you picked a side and insulted me. You chose to believe whatever bullshit Ron's been feeding you. You chose to ignore my letters. You chose to ask Ginny to take care of it, didn't you?"
"I … We talked about this Mione, I said I was sorry …"
"And I don't care for apologies." She snapped. "I want to know why you're really here? Because Ron's temper sure isn't anything new."
"It is. Something's off. He's incoherent. He …" He cut himself abruptly but the last crumbs of patience Hermione had had were gone and she barked:
"WHAT?"
"Not here please … I don't want to make a scene someone could …" He worried, his eyes darting to the door.
"What?" She practically sobbed in anger. "See you insult me again?"
"Why?" He asked, worry vanished from his face then. "Is Malfoy here?" That was spite if she could recognise it.
"Leave Draco out of this." She hissed.
"Draco?" He exclaimed. "Since when is he Draco?"
Blaise had been pacing around all day. First, Astoria had gone out early to meet with her sister and fish out what the lunch with her father would be about. Second, when he'd apparated to his place, Draco had already been gone to work. He was meeting with possible buyers that day and would be home late.
Blaise had waited impatiently until four o'clock before realising that Astoria wouldn't write, she was either still with her father, either leaving him. He had no one to whine to but Hermione then. He knew that she had no trial to prepare and decided that he could always try to pull her out of work early. That would definitely occupy him until Stori came back - if she ever came back - or until Draco got home. He could even try to have her over as a little surprise for the lad.
Right. Good idea.
Blaise apparated straight in the Ministry, passed security, and walked to the lift.
Of course redface would be there. He was with his older redface. Weasel father that was. Ageing didn't look so good on him, he was almost bald. After grimacing at the nefarious sight, Blaise took a deep breath and plastered his most ugly smirk on his mouth. It had the desired effect. Weasel junior's already red - and conveniently angry - face turned almost purple. That shade suited him less than red which said a lot. Purpleface didn't get anytime to say anything though that his father dragged him by the arm, a menacing drawl twisting his mouth.
Blaise took the lift quite content with himself. Maybe it wouldn't be so much of a bad day after all.
He stood corrected as soon as the door to the lift opened. He could hear the shouting even before stepping out of the brutal cage. The bint Davis scowled at him. Although Blaise didn't know if it was because of the argument going on at the end of the corridor, or because he was there.
"Astoria isn't there." She said.
"I came to see Hermione." He shrugged, taking a step further.
"She's busy."
"I can hear." He stepped around her desk to go see what the fuss was about.
"Hey you're not supposed to ... "
"Mind your own business Davis." He spat. She gave up.
Blaise heard a man that certainly was the golden boy shout something before he reached the door, and when he opened it, it was Hermione's turn to scream:
"SINCE YOU FUCKED OFF MY LIFE AND HE'S NOT!" Both were standing above her desk, accusing fingers pointed to the other.
"What? What ... What do you mean?" Potter babbled stupidly. Blaise couldn't help himself when he realised Hermione was so livid, she hadn't even noticed him:
"What the fuck is going on in here?" He demanded.
"Blaise?" She jumped. The goggled shite turned around.
"Zabini." He drawled. "What …"
"What do you want from her Potter?" Blaise cut.
"What do you care?" He barked in answer. "It's none of your business!"
"Oh it is. Trust me. Leave her alone." He warned. He was not the kind to throw empty threats around, the bastard could be certain of it.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Potter sneered and Blaise was about to answer something scathing when Hermione cut him:
"Blaise please … Harry I'm going to ask one last time. Why are you here?"
"Not in front of him." He refused, crossing his arms atop his chest. Stupid wanker.
"I've got nothing to hide from him." Hermione challenged and Blaise suddenly felt somehow flattered.
"I see. Then I've got nothing to tell you." Potter fumed and started to go. Blaise saw Hermione swallow then, and she gave in a low but visibly pained voice:
"Right. Then go back to fucking off my life."
The bastard snorted, and only hesitated a second at Blaise's warning glare to turn around and still answer her: "Ron is right. I didn't believe him. I came here because I thought he was loosing it but … obviously I was wrong."
"What is that supposed to mean?" She frowned but Potter was at Blaise's side at the door then, and, not without his own hateful glare at Blaise, walked away with just:
"Goodbye Hermione."
Draco walked out of the building as soon as the meeting was over. Four propositions, all reasonable, all about the same amount of money. He didn't really care though, all he wanted was to be rid of the burden. He walked back to Blaise's to try and empty his mind.
His mother, whom he hadn't really tormented himself with in months, mostly because he'd had a lot to do instead, was all he could think about then. There was nothing to debate though. She had some thinking to do.
But Draco couldn't possibly guess what she'd do, and it unnerved him. Would she hold her ground and keep ignoring him? Would she come to her senses and finally see the truth?
How come she hadn't known anyway?
How come she had never seen? His father had been a death eater for Salazar's sake!
Had he lied to her all these years? Or had she chosen to ignore it, pretended she didn't know, until she believed it? More likely.
Had she blinded herself out of love? Probably.
But then she'd been there! When her own son had been forced to take the mark! When Voldemort had assigned him with a suicide mission! When his father had made him sign that oath!
Had he always come first and before Draco? What kind of mother was she?
Right. She was a Black.
He'd been raised by countless nurses and elves.
His father had always come first for her.
Draco hadn't even noticed he'd been pacing around Blaise's kitchen. A tawny owl he now recognised was at the window. The owl wasn't tapping its beak on the glass though. It seemed as though he'd tired out of it. How long had it been waiting there?
Draco hurried to open the window, and the owl perched instantly on his shoulder. This time it didn't go away as soon as he'd freed it from the letter. Instead, it started beaking his ear softly.
Draco gave him a treat from Blaise's jar. The owl went away after extirpating seven of those out of him. It must have waited all day on the window sill.
Draco,
I had no idea you liked my handwriting so much as to have it framed. I'm flattered, if a little disturbed.
Maybe you should frame these instead, at least they'll be useful to clean up the mess you made at Blaise's:
Generis Notas, organises a paragraph, sentence, scroll. Just point at the page, circle a specific area if you only need it there.
Nobilis Litterarum, sorts through scattered documentation by categories. Twist your wand up and right, and circle the mess. Should do. It will put everything in piles according to the type of documents though, (scrolls, books etc) if you don't think precisely about how you want it ordered (it takes practice, but once you get it, you can sort your mess through very complicated categories, up to ten piles).
See you Saturday then,
Hermione.
Draco chuckled, and stared at the small handwriting a minute more than necessary.
Well, here was his bit of complicated magic to practice then. He started right away.
He didn't realise the letter itself had cleared his inward turmoil. All he thought about that evening, were Hermione's charms, and to practice with his new wand.
Hermione took a few steadying breaths, tears threatening to spill. She wouldn't cry. NO. He didn't deserve her tears.
But she'd hoped, hadn't she? When he'd said he wanted to apologise, she'd hoped that even if she'd make him suffer a little bit, things would arrange themselves between them. She'd been so terribly wrong.
Blaise was still there, glaring at the corridor where Harry had disappeared.
"Why were you here?" She asked when she could trust her voice again.
"Well, Stori told me you weren't working late and I was bored." He shrugged. "Thought we could go make Witch Weekly gossip somewhere but …" Like she'd believe that.
"Really?" She was certain Tracey could hear the scepticism in her voice.
"Err … She's still with her father …" He grimaced.
"She hasn't called me Blaise …"
"I figured." He shrugged. "I just had to do something and Draco's busy with the selling …"
"So, I was your last resort?"
"Yes." He smirked.
"Nice." She pouted, her burning tears receding.
"Well I didn't come for nothing, at least this was entertaining. Are you alright?" He asked and Hermione couldn't hide her surprise at his question. He rolled his eyes and watched her expectantly until she sighed:
"Yes."
"Were you about to make peace before I arrived?" He asked, frowning as if he were trying to decide whether he liked the idea or not. "Is it my fault it …"
"No. It's not your fault." Hermione cut. "Actually, I'm glad you came."
"Really?" He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows as he always did. She chuckled.
"Of course." She smirked back, trying to muster a suggestive smile. He grimaced uneasily, making her laugh.
"Walk me back?" He asked, chining the door. She nodded, after all she had nothing more to do, and after what had just happened she wouldn't be able to concentrate anyway. She took her bag and they walked out of the Ministry together.
Blaise didn't say another word. He didn't joke when everyone in the atrium watched them with a confused frown. He walked purposely close to her, but didn't say a word. Not a single word.
Once they were out on the clicking pavement of muggle London, Hermione asked: "You really are worried?" Although it sounded more as a statement.
"Nah, she'll handle it." He dismissed, clearly lying.
"Sure." She smiled.
"Yeah, I'll wait at her place anyway." He said. She knew better than to give reassuring words. He didn't care for them. Once they reached the corner she usually turned to head home by foot, he stopped as if he knew and gave: "See you tomorrow." turning to her, half a smirk on his face.
"Oh, right." With all this, she'd forgotten.
"Draco'll be there." He smirked fully now, his worry forgotten.
"I know." She frowned suspiciously.
"Are you happy?" He grinned.
"What kind of question is that?"
"I don't know." He shrugged. "I just know he is." Hermione was not really in the mood though:
"What … Blaise stop that …" She pleaded.
"Stop what? Telling the truth? You know he's debated for hours before sending you that thank you card? What did it say?"
"It said thank you." Hermione felt herself blush a tad as she reckoned where that note was now. It passed quickly though. No one knew.
"Right. Why did you answer then?"
"To ask him to come tomorrow Blaise. I'm certain you know that already since Stori asked for it." Tricked she'd been, indeed.
"Alright I do. But I know something you don't." He taunted.
"Which is?" She found herself asking and shut her mouth abruptly. Idiot. Blaise chuckled and then drew his face close to hers:
"He finds you pretty." He purred. Hermione felt her whole face grow scarlet. He laughed this time and she didn't find anything to say as he added: "And I know you find him pretty too Mione." She found her wit back instantly:
"Well I find you pretty too and it doesn't mean anything."
"No denying? Good. You can kiss him first tomorrow then." OH! That damned smirk! How?
"You … you … How did you …" She stuttered.
"We were there." There was a pause then. During which Hermione grew enraged:
"I'm going to kill you …" She growled.
"Nah you're not, you love me." He dismissed with a pompous wave of his hand in the air.
"Blaise please … Don't make this awkward …" She practically begged, not seeing how else she could have him stop that charade.
"I won't." He conceded a bit too fast. "I swear." He added at her glare and then: "If you confess that you like him."
"I do, as a friend."
"Yeah right and I'm ugly." He scoffed.
"It's true!"
"You're going to break his heart then." His false sadness was rather irritating, so much actually that she didn't really understood right away what he'd just said and answered:
"Nonsense."
"Are you sure?" He asked. "I reckon he kissed you first."
Hermione difficultly resisted the urge to grab her face in her hands then. Instead she swore:
"Merlin's sodding beard … I can't believe you watched, you pervert! And it wasn't even a kiss it was …"
"A pathetic little peck. I know." He cut. "Wished it'd be more?" He taunted. Oh by Godric that infuriating sly little smirk of his!
"Sod off!" She barked, only making him chuckle.
"I'll take that as a yes. Look, I promise I won't make it awkward, but you have to admit that there's something going on between you two."
"You just sound like Stori." She muttered.
"Oh so you confessed to her already?"
"No I didn't."
"There's something to confess though?"
"Blaise, either you stop that now, either I hex your balls off." She gave as a final warning. He seemed to catch the tone.
"Alright. Alright. See you tomorrow." He cringed, lifting both hands in surrender.
That idiot still blew her a kiss as he walked away. He'd managed to make her smile. No wonder Astoria had fallen for him when he was still acting like a pig. He knew how to do.
A/N: Okay so, these two chapters were supposed to be one, the usual chapter between two encounters, but I got carried away in a insomniac kind of trance so I cut it in half. I think I rewrote it five or six times hence the really, really, really late update for which I apologise. I hope you forgive me.
Also, I'm moving in a couple of weeks, and the place I'll live in is currently a ruin that will require a lot of my time. The next 10 chapters are roughly drafted or half-written for the most part so it might not affect the updates but we never know … Just wanted to warn you that I'll be really busy but don't think I gave up if I miss an update here and there … I promise I'll post this story till the end.
Anyway can you smell it? What do you think is about to happen? I'd really like to know. Oh and I'm really glad you liked last chapter! Thanks for the lovely reviews. Lucie.