Entry #47
When I was younger my mother used to pat me on the head and look at me with a smile like a black hole. She used to put me on her lap and then hold me a mile away from her chest as if I could contaminate her with my indifference.
When you're a child you're not told to love, because you're supposed to know. You're supposed to love and be loved, because you can smile and laugh and enjoy their company without thinking that there must be better things out there for you.
When you're a child there is a world of supposed-tos. You're supposed to feel moths in your stomach when you meet a boy you like, all soft smiles and tentative glances. You're supposed to be young and innocent and impulsive. Because logic is cold, lusterless steel and love is warm lips on icy skin.
But every supposed-to easily turns into a would-be, and every expectation falls through the cracks but doesn't desert your memory.
I knew, logically, that my body needed sleep. But my brain didn't, and it never did; it always seemed to spit out more information than I needed. It was like Healing finals all over again; I couldn't help but remember Alex's symptoms, and then match them to known magical and muggle afflictions.
Sitting in the hard plastic chair next to her bed was long and anxiety-inducing. Going back to the flat hadn't worked. I'd just started pacing back in forth in my living room, so I decided to do something much less useless and go back to the hospital. I began to lose track of time as I went through her medical reports again and again. Unfortunately, I hadn't been able to read through the lines as well as I'd hoped.
The other Healers had informed me that Alex had had a sudden seizure when I'd left, which should have helped, but I was completely confused. Her only symptoms had indicated internal bleeding, but no cause. While she was in her bed, she slipped in and out of consciousness. When she was awake, she was delirious; her eyes were unfocused and unsure.
When the other Healers came requesting to do more tests, I was promptly kicked out. I decided to go to the manor, because I clearly wasn't wanted near Alex while they were performing their obviously useless tests.
When I got there, Draco had grilled me about her condition, but I simply had nothing to say. He asked if we could go visit her, but I told him that the Healers would likely be running scans until the next morning. There was no way we were going to get in. So we decided to make some progress in the murder investigation and go to Hanover Consulting.
Draco informed me first that Isabella Hanover was ruthless. When she'd been instated as Vice President of Hanover Consulting, she'd been shunned by her employees, who assumed she'd gotten the job because she was Mr. Hanover's daughter. But after only a few months, she'd secured a deal with the largest fashion robe manufacturer in Britain, and the firm's net worth had skyrocketed. Now she was revered and feared by her underlings.
And it was true. The first word that came to mind upon meeting Isabella Hanover was intimidating.
She towered over me, easily six inches taller. Her jet black stiletto heels clacked on the marble floor as she approached us, her arms swaying leisurely at her sides. Her hair was a curious mixture of blonde and brunette, falling down her back in gentle waves.
"Why don't any of you business people wear robes?" I asked quickly, knowing she was still out of earshot.
Draco shrugged. "Muggle business clothes allow for more freedom. They're less heavy and look more formal. At this point, none of us wear robes to the office anymore."
"Draco Malfoy," she said, her voice matching her smile: cool and disinterested. Her face was like her personality, all sharp angles and captivating beauty; her eyes suggested the kind of determination that came through in every move she made. "What a pleasant surprise."
"Well," he replied, "if it isn't the whore of the wizarding business world. Did we interrupt a date with another C.E.O?"
"Of course not. I would never allow you to interrupt a personal venture," she smirked. "And it's especially nice to see you again. I missed the ramblings of the most inconsiderate, egocentric sociopath in the consulting branch." Her lilting melodic voice contrasted with her derogatory insults.
And then came the strangest occurrence: they shared the smallest smile, almost imperceptible, before she turned her head to me. This was obviously some sort of ritual. "And this is Hermione Granger, I presume?"
I only raised my eyebrows. "You've heard of me?"
"Well, of course. How couldn't I have heard about the bushy-haired tagalong to the hero of the wizarding world?"
I clenched my jaw. The corners of her mouth quirked up as her ice blue eyes sparkled briefly with vindictive pleasure.
"Isabella," Draco said, "we only need a moment of your time."
"You have a moment," she told him. "The sidekick is not worth my time. Clearly." She turned on her heel and walked away, her skin-tight pencil skirt accentuating the determined movement of her hips.
He looked at me helplessly. "It'll just be a few minutes."
"What? You're just going to leave me behind like I'm your bloody assistant?" I asked disbelievingly.
"She's not going to listen to the both of us. It's for the best," he replied, shrugging.
Rage boiled under my skin. This was not happening. My best friend was in the hospital and her fiancée was on a rampage trying to fix her. I had six days until Narcissa would likely die from the Dark curse or attempt to take her own life because of the effects of it. I was not allowing some ridiculous bitch to dismiss me like a servant.
"Fuck this," I said, barely containing my fury. I pointed my wand at her back. "Expelliarmus."
Her wand flew out of her reach and clattered to the floor. She turned around slowly, her eyes locked on mine.
"Well, well," she said, speaking so quietly I could hardly hear her. She wordlessly Accio'd her wand back to her hand and I barely had a moment to be impressed by her wandless magic before she shot a Stupefy at me.
I managed to block it before she sent a bond bind. "Are you going to make it easy on me?" she asked, her soft voice mildly taunting.
I shot a stunning charm at her, which she countered with an Immobulus. I tried to disarm her again, but she only smirked before she sent a curse that would blind me, and I sent back a deafening spell. We were walking closer as she shot a spell that created a line of fire from her wand, and I wordlessly turned it into ice.
Suddenly, I felt my wand being ripped from my grasp. We turned towards Draco, the guilty party, and prepared to stun him out of his wits, but he held up his hand and said, "Haven't you proven to each other that you're both formidable opponents?"
We glared at each other angrily before she straightened up, brushing her hands down her skirt before summoning her wand back to her hand.
She looked at me. "Well, you have my attention," she said, turning on her heel and walking away. We had to walk at twice our normal speed to catch up with her.
She led us to her office, sitting down in a tall leather chair and folding her hands in front of her. "You have three minutes," she informed us, looking at me.
"We need to question three of your employees about information regarding Lucius' death," Draco said immediately.
"And you," I added.
"I'm a suspect?" she clarified. When we didn't answer, she shrugged. "Wise assumption. I did hate your father."
"We also need to speak to Elena Ashmoore, Thea Ayers, and Emeline Olingworth," Draco listed. "Hermione will be here to ask you a few questions."
"And I suppose you've bribed a few Aurors in order to force me to comply?" she asked.
"You know me so well," he sighed, moving towards the door. "We'll be gone in an hour."
When he left, I looked at Isabella, who was staring at me expectedly. I cleared my throat. "I'm sorry for using your time like…"
"Well, then, let's drop the bullshit, shall we? I'm certainly not going to listen to your meaningless, insincere apologies."
I exhaled. She clearly wasn't going to make this easy on me. "I just need to know what your involvement with Lucius Malfoy was."
"We had a deal with him three years ago. He treated my top consulting pod-" she paused. "My apologies. By 'pod' I'm referring to a group of consultants that work together on certain deals. I forget that some of Draco's friends don't know common consulting terms."
I smiled as if I found her condescending air of superiority charming.
"Anyway," she continued, "he treated my top pod as if they were dirt underneath his Italian leather shoes and canceled the deal and the last moment."
"And that made you angry."
"Don't think I'm going to do your job for you, Granger. But yes, it was an eighty-million galleon deal that he dangled in front of us."
"And where were you the night of Lucius' death?"
"Here," she replied. "And I'm sure my other employees can only verify that fact." She smiled at me without a hint of warmth. "Now, are we finished? I have a portkey to France I have to catch."
"What is your relationship with Draco?" I blurted out suddenly, my eyes widening in surprise at my own outburst.
She raised her eyebrows. "Oh, there's that Gryffindor courage I heard so much about. I wouldn't know, of course, considering I attended Beauxbatons, but there are so many Slytherins in the business world nowadays."
"Just answer the question!" I snapped.
"Draco and I used to be good friends back when he was still married to the wicked bitch of Briggs. He was my only ally when I was named Vice President of this company."
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask when they had started sleeping together, and from the look on her face, she knew it. "Anything else?" she asked innocently.
After a moment of thought, I shook my head. She smirked. "Well, I'm going to meet Paige for lunch."
"Paige Vallis?" I asked.
"Of course. Us successful gals have to stick together," she replied lightly. "And feel free to never come back to my office again."
When Draco and I arrived at the hospital to visit Alex, Harry was already there, planted on a blue plastic chair. He didn't acknowledge our presence, instead opting to stare out the window. He simply looked awful. He clearly hadn't showered or changed his clothes since Alex had gotten here. His eyes were bloodshot and unfocused.
"The Healers say that her organs are failing," he told us, his voice hoarse with misuse. No doubt he'd been yelling at them earlier. "They still have no idea the cause, although she might have a better chance if her best friend was there to help her."
"Harry…" Draco started.
"You know, I never knew you valued piles of galleons over friendship," Harry said, looking at me with an expression that reminded me of stone. "Draco must be paying you quite a handful."
"You're asking me to choose between Alex and Draco, Harry. You can't expect me to just let Narcissa die."
"No, I expect you to choose your best friend over this self-important git!" he shouted.
Draco raised an eyebrow, covering his surprise with indifference. "Funny, I thought we were on somewhat amicable terms."
"You'll always be the soulless bastard who hid behind his father's robe, Malfoy," he spat. He turned to me. "Alex should be your first priority."
Draco looked at me. "Well, Granger?"
I bit my lip. I knew what he was asking. But Harry was right; Alex should have been my first priority, Narcissa should have been none of my concern; Draco shouldn't have been, either.
My silence must have answered his question, because he put on his coat. "Of course, Ms. Granger," he said formally, the fluorescent lights casting shadows across the angles of his face as he straightened up. "Consider our agreement terminated." I flinched as he slammed the door on the way out.
I kept my promise to Harry.
I worked all night performing tests and running scans. It was at three thirty in the morning when I finally saw something in the scans that I hadn't seen before: something spreading through her body in her bloodstream, deadly and striking.
"It's a poison," I said aloud.
Harry's head snapped up. "You're saying someone did this to her intentionally?"
"I'm sure of it. And it appears she ingested it."
"We need to get a poisons master," he realized, rubbing his eyes. "I know a man in Diagon Alley. I'm sure he knows someone who can help us."
While he was gone, I busied myself with examining the few books on poisons I owned. From the material, it seemed as if slow-acting magical poisons had a similar trait: they all only needed to be ingested once before becoming deadly. The lifespan of the victim following the poison, however, varied from solution to solution by years. I could only hope there was a simple antidote.
Harry returned with what I assumed was the poisons master. He introduced himself as Potions Master Delacourt, and immediately pushed past me to examine the test results, requesting that we leave him be in order to figure out exactly what was ailing her.
And once again, we were waiting in the hallway, twiddling our thumbs and staring at the wall. With all the bustle of the hospital, I still couldn't hear a word, too focused on what had transpired earlier. Surely Draco didn't mean it. Surely I could come over tomorrow morning when this was blown over. "I can't believe you said those things to him," I told Harry, remembering the kind of insults he'd thrown at him.
"I've said worse," he said, dismissing me. "He'll forget about it in time."
But I couldn't forget the betrayed look on his face when I hadn't stood up and said I'd try to help his mother until her dying day. And somehow I knew it wasn't going to be easily forgiven.
Delacourt had our answer an hour later. "It's called Langzame Marteling," he explained, "roughly translating to 'slow torture' in Dutch."
"And how is it cured?" asked Harry impatiently.
He beckoned us into Alex's room, shutting the door behind us and whispering an incantation. "The only way to get the antidote is to trace it back to its creator," he said. "Magical poisons reveal a magical signature, just as Dark Curses do. The magical signature takes the form of a plant. Each one is unique and recognizable."
A smoke-like substance creeped up above Alex's chest and twisted around itself, lighting up to form a brilliant red and green. It was a beautiful thorned rose. And it clicked. Draco had performed this exact same spell on Narcissa, telling me that we'd see a plant, completely unique to the caster. And a rose had formed in front of Narcissa: same deep red, same full bloom.
That was the key.
The caster and the poison maker was the same person.