Entry #68
She tasted like regret and bittersweet chocolate.
She loved to drink, loved to drown herself in wine from her husband's wine cellar. She was so unhappy that it leaked into her appearance: her once perfect exterior was now an echo of a once perfect life.
I had gone after her because I wanted her, because I wanted to control her. I wanted her to worship me and love me and do anything for me.
But it didn't quite work that way. She'd given me her devotion, but I would always come second to her handsome and successful husband. Perhaps that was why she drank; she wanted to forget that she had what she wanted but not what she needed, what she breathed for.
Our relationship inevitably came to an end, and she slowly lost every shred of happiness she had in her life. I didn't mind. I hadn't cared for her and I knew I never could.
I decided to sleep in one of the guest bedrooms in the Manor after looking at the time and discovering it was already so late. Narcissa managed to sleep through the night, which was quite a feat. I woke up early in the morning and cooked breakfast (after conjuring the necessary ingredients and equipment, because it was obvious neither of them cooked). I did it the Muggle way, because to me, food always tasted better when cooked from scratch.
It was no use; she refused to eat. Her eyes were bloodshot and her skin was getting a pale, waxy quality. She hadn't eaten anything for twenty-four hours and she refused to drink anything except water. There was no way I could force her to eat anything without a feeding tube.
Draco woke up shortly after I did. Narcissa was just staring out the window, unmoving. Draco sat next to me, not even bothering to speak to her. Clearly this sort of behavior was familiar to him.
"She's not eating, then?" he asked quietly. Narcissa didn't show any sign of hearing him.
"No," I replied, picking up a piece of toast I'd made for myself and taking a bite. "Draco?"
"Yes?"
"Last night. What Narcissa said about Lucius burning you." I inhaled and held my breath, trying to gather the courage to ask. "Was it true?"
His head didn't turn my direction. "Some days my mother is more coherent than others," he said after a moment, snapping his fingers as a lighter appeared in front of him. He lit up a cigarette and stood, inhaling the smoke and exhaling slowly. "I'm going to look at the interview again. Are you coming?"
He took me to a giant pensieve, commenting to close the door behind me. "I'm going to show you what I saw when Pansy was speaking."
He waved his wand and we were pulled into the memory, landing in front of Pansy. She was wringing her hands, looking at the table in front of her.
Draco pointed to her fingers. "She's nervous," he said. "But that doesn't prove she's guilty."
Harry entered the room, setting a file down on the desk. He opened his mouth to speak, but I couldn't hear anything. Draco told me that he'd cast a quick Silencing charm, and all we needed was in her body language. "Look," he said, pointing at Pansy's face. "He asks her where she was the night of Lucius' murder, and her eyes slide to the right and dart back and forth, meaning her brain was looking for information. She's correcting herself when he asks what she ate, meaning she doesn't have a prepared answer. I told him to ask those questions because I wanted to see if she was lying."
"And why would she lie about her breakfast and dinner choices?"
"Sociopaths and pathological liars tend to lie about anything, to the point where the truth is an abnormality. I wanted to see if she lied about random details."
"How did you know she was lying about anything else?"
He paused as Harry leaves and, soon, Draco himself comes into the interrogation room in the memory. "I ask her if she knew Astoria was having an affair, and she pushes her hair behind her ear. Sign of manipulation. I ask her if she had a relationship with her, and she looks down and scratches her nose. Lying. I ask her if the note is written by Astoria, and she doesn't even look at it before she claims that she wouldn't know. She doesn't even try to recall if she knows what Astoria's handwriting looks like before she jumps to say there's no way she would know."
"So she's lying about everything," I concluded. "Why are we here?"
"That's where I'm confused," he said, and I watched as Pansy sat back in her chair as Draco asked his final question. "She's clearly dumbfounded by the question. And she's angry that I would even ask that; she stands up out of her chair. She knows that Astoria was having an affair, but it wasn't her."
"We found the notes, Draco. She's lying," I said deliberately.
"She's not. Those notes must have been forgeries," he insisted. "You saw her face. You saw her surprise."
"You're saying that someone forged those notes, got the necklace, and placed it under her bed?"
"I know Pansy, Hermione," he said. "I know that she's not the one who did this."
"But she could know who did," I finished for him.
Pansy looked at us from behind the table, folding her hands in front of her. "It's no use trying to accuse me anymore," she said, tilting her head back to stare at me. "I'm already being charged."
"We're actually here to get you released," Draco said frankly. "But you have to answer a few questions first."
She looked incredibly confused, but cleared her throat and nodded.
"How long did you have a relationship with Astoria?" he asked first, pulling up a chair and taking a seat across from her. I stayed in the corner, leaning against the bars. It was much better to just observe Draco when he was this focused.
She took in a breath and let it out slowly. "Five years."
"How did you know she was having an affair?"
She shrugged. "She worked with me. I saw a few notes on her desk."
"Who signed them?"
She looked at me and turned her head to look at him. "It wasn't a name on the notes."
"Then what was it?"
She raised an eyebrow. "They were always signed 'Red'."
"And you never actually saw Astoria with anyone? Anyone at all?"
Pansy shook her head. "Astoria would take strange fire calls, leave early. Sometimes we'd get off work and have a drink, but nothing ever happened between us. She'd always leave and say she had somewhere to be before it got too late. I was happy for you two," she explained, an almost desperate edge to her voice.
"Why did you request the weekend off the same weekend Astoria did?"
"I was visiting my grandmother in Germany. She's nearly eighty-five years old. You can ask my mother-she insisted on tagging along," she said dryly.
"One last thing," he started, leaning back in his chair. "How did you get around the Veritaserum?"
She laughed. "Dear old Dad. Taught me how to counteract the truth serum with a spell."
"Pansy, you stupid twat. It just made you seem guiltier," he said almost fondly. "Fine. You're free to go. And I'm sorry about all of this."
She stood up and hugged him. "Thank you, love. I shall be forever thankful." She walked towards the door to the cell and paused, looking back. "You owe me a shopping trip, though," she commented. "I want a new robe. And shoes. And I wouldn't mind a new hat."
He rolled his eyes. "Whatever you want, Pans."
She grinned. "You're lovely, Draco. I'll see you soon."
It was clear we were back to square one.
"Where else, exactly, do we look?" I asked. We were sitting at the Three Broomsticks, having a butterbeer at the bar. I was trying very hard not to be discouraged by the fact that just when we had identified a culprit and was on the verge of curing Narcissa and Alex, all of our work had been shot to hell.
"Someone who could have framed her," he said, shrugging. "Katie must have noticed something odd; Pansy's house was broken into at some point."
"Katie just started up her new firm; she couldn't have seen anything because she wasn't there all that often," I countered.
"Yes, but…" He trailed off as his eyes darted to the left, clearly spotting someone behind me. "Ginny and Blaise! Fancy meeting you lot."
I turned around as Ginny and Blaise approached our table with clasped hands. Blaise was dressed in a sharp, pitch-black suit and Ginny was dressed in a knee-length flapper-style dress in a deep emerald green. Her red lips stretched wide as she hugged me. "We thought we'd come by for a drink. Would you like to join us?"
We had to accept. We flagged a waiter down and got a round of butterbeers, grabbing a table next to a window. It wasn't long before we were all laughing and reminiscing about our days in school.
"Do you remember," Blaise asked, his words slightly slurred, "when we first got completely knackered in our dormitory?"
"Fourth year," Draco sighed. "We had snuck in about ten bottles of firewhiskey from your father's liquor stash."
"It was the first time Pansy had ever gotten drunk," Blaise said with a faraway look in his face.
"Pansy turns into a bit of a stripper when she's drunk," Draco explained, pouring himself a bit more wine.
"Well?" Ginny demanded. "Does Pansy have a nice body?"
We all stared at her, completely shocked.
"What?" she asked, shrugging. "I've always wondered."
We simultaneously burst into laughter. I held up my glass for a toast, and the clanking of wine glasses was heard across the bar. "Honestly, Ginny, you're an inspiration to us all," I told her.
She smiled demurely into her glass. "I try, darling."
"Well, ladies?" asked Blaise. "Any wild stories about the Gryffindors?"
"Well, I'm sure Ginny has some," I said, giggling a little. I hadn't felt this good in ages. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, it registered that maybe we should have been a little more responsible, but I felt like I'd been working for eternity. It was nice to let loose a little.
"Of course!" Ginny exclaimed. She leaned forward, waving us in as if she had an important secret. "When I was in seventh year," she said dramatically, "Gryffindor had an enormous party. Drinking, experimentation…" she snuck a look at Blaise, who smiled at her coyly. "The works. And we invited everyone."
"I heard about that!" I said. It was strange to think I'd been in Healer training at the time. "You got boys from Durmstrang and girls from Beauxbatons to show up, yeah?"
"Oh, yes," she replied. "And I made a lot of discoveries about the French that night."
"Ah, French girls," Draco sighed. "You know, I lived in France for a year."
I laughed along with the others.
"Excuse me," someone said behind me. I turned around to see a waiter, and was shocked to notice that we were the only ones in the Three Broomsticks. "We're closing up for the night."
"Have we really been here that long?" I asked, trying to focus. I cast a quick Tempus charm, nearly dropping my glass when I saw the time. "It's nearly one in the morning!"
Blaise exhaled. "Well, I suppose we'd better head out."
"We should do this again sometime," Ginny commented as we headed out the door. "Honestly, Hermione, it's especially fun to get drunk with you."
I put my hand on my chest, feeling strangely touched. It might have been because of the alcohol. "I could say the exact same thing about you."
"Well, I guess we'll be going. Blaise has an early morning." She kissed me on the cheek, her red lips probably staining my skin. "Goodnight, love."
Draco pulled me in the opposite direction. We linked arms as we walked down the street, the lanterns casting a dull light. He commented that we should probably catch the Knight Bus, considering neither of us was sober enough to apparate. I agreed, and we walked in silence until I decided to break it with one remark.
"You know," I said, tilting my head towards his, "when I was younger I used to study Muggle Psychology."
"Why on earth would you do that?" he asked lazily.
"Well," I replied, shrugging, "I always wondered how they thought the human brain operated. They seem to always explain away behavior and apply theories to large masses of people."
"Interesting," he drawled, making it clear he thought it was anything but.
"They also explained people like you," I continued.
"People like me?" he asked.
"Natural deception experts," I replied slowly, making sure I got every syllable right under the haze of wine.
"You mean people who can tell when others are lying?" he clarified, looking at me as if I was crazy.
"Exactly!" I said, laughing. "They say that natural deception experts lived with a pathological liar or a sociopath as a child."
He let go of my arm and turned to me. We were at the Knight Bus stop. "Hermione, you shouldn't ask about things you know nothing about."
"I'm only curious!" I protested.
He smiled bitterly. "Did you ever know anyone who was a Death Eater, Hermione?"
The grin dropped off of my face. "No," I replied quietly. He wouldn't let go of my gaze.
"When I was sixteen," he started, taking my hand and playing with my fingers, "my father told me that we were going home to have dinner with Blaise and Pansy. To celebrate my homecoming from Hogwarts." His voice was flat and emotionless, and he wasn't looking at me anymore. "I was ecstatic. My father hadn't spoken to me like I was his son in years."
I stayed quiet, unwilling to interrupt.
He cleared his throat. "When we arrived at the Manor, another wizard in a silver mask had me under an Imperius within the moment I walked through the front door." The wind whipped around us, but I could hardly register it. "I was branded like cattle that night."
I swallowed.
"After the ink dried and the pain from all of those Crucios wore off, I promised myself I would never let anyone lie to me again. And I didn't."
The Knight Bus arrived at the stop, and the driver leaned out to yell at us to get in.
His face was close to mine, close enough to feel his cool breath on my lips. "I think I'll walk the rest of the way," he whispered. "Goodnight, love."
And then he was gone. The doors to the bus closed in front of me, and I stood frozen in place as I felt the bus dart away.