In memory of Lucius Malfoy, valued member of the High Society of Business Leaders of Britain

Poem chosen by Narcissa Malfoy

hate blows a bubble of despair into
hugeness world system universe and bang
-fear buries a tomorrow under woe
and up comes yesterday most green and young

pleasure and pain are merely surfaces
(one itself showing, itself hiding one)
life's only and true value neither is
love makes the little thickness of the coin

comes here a man would have from madame death
nevertheless now and without winter spring?
she'll spin that spirit her own fingers with
and give him nothing (if he should not sing)

how much more than enough for both of us
darling. And if i sing you are my voice

-E. E Cummings, Magical Poet of the Fifth Order

Alex was awake the next morning.

The antidote reversed the effects of the poison completely, with no lasting damage to her internal organs. She hugged me the second I walked into her room, squeezing me until I thought my lungs would burst. "Thank you so much," she whispered. I almost commented that I hardly did anything to get the cure, but I don't think I could have taken in enough air to speak.

She finally let go and took a deep breath, standing up. "Well, I've got a lot of work to catch up on."

I laughed. She gets cured of a life-threatening poison and all she can think about is her college credits. "Well, I'm glad you're back, Alex."

She grinned. "Now I can start planning my wedding again." She turned to Draco, who was right behind her. "It's nice to see you again."

He smirked. "Nice to see you too."

Her hand flicked out and smacked him in the back of the head. "What was that for?" he demanded, rubbing the spot and looking mildly frightened of her.

"That ridiculous fight with Harry," she responded neutrally.

"Why am I in trouble for that and he isn't?"

"Oh, don't worry," she replied, glancing at Harry. He ducked his head immediately, looking scared. "Harry's in just as much trouble. Expect a lengthy apology later."

Draco smiled when he saw Harry hadn't escaped any shit from Alex. She grinned, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. "Thank you for doing so much for me," she said.

"Harry would lose his own head if you weren't around," he responded, looking distinctly uncomfortable in the hug, but had obviously decided to humor her. "I couldn't allow that to happen."

"Sure, Draco," she said sarcastically. "Whatever the reason, you're an amazing friend." She waited, and cleared her throat expectantly.

"And thank you for saving my fiancée," Harry added, clearly for Alex's benefit.

She grinned smugly as she grabbed his hand and left the room, waving her hand.

"It's nice to see her up and attached to Harry's side again," Draco commented.

"Yeah," I sighed. "It really, really is."

"Hopefully I don't ever have to come back here," he said, looking around at the hospital walls.

I rolled my eyes. "That's rather dramatic, isn't it? I work here every day."

"And it's a perfectly respectable plebian profession," he finished, smirking. "Speaking of work, we have to go back to the Auror Department. They have a few suspects they want us to interview about Ginny."

I rubbed my eyes tiredly. "Fine. It never ends, does it?"

His only response was to turn and walk out of the room. I had no choice but to follow him.

John's face paled when he saw me open the door into his office. I raised my eyebrows, figuring I shouldn't have been surprised that Harry's partner was there instead. John was curiously frightened by my presence, although I could never understand why. What did he have to be so worried about? He had asked me to be here, after all. "Hermione," he stuttered, nervously shuffling papers together.

"Yes?" I asked expectantly.

"I actually think Mr. Malfoy and I can handle this by ourselves. So if you want to go home and take a break…"

"Just tell me what's going on, John. I'll find out eventually," I said, bored.

He took a deep breath. "Ron Weasley is here."

All the oxygen sucked out of my lungs. I hadn't seen Ron in four years. He'd moved to Scotland after I told him to get the hell out of my life and never come back. I had no idea if he'd married Cerina Prewett or not, or if he had children, or if he was still an Auror…

"George, Arthur, and Bill are all planning the funeral, so we only have Ron and Molly," he rambled. "You really don't have to do this," he continued, and I snapped out of it as I heard his panicked voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Draco turn to me, curious. I ignored him.

"I'm fine. I'm perfectly capable of keeping my composure around him," I told them, the lie transparent in my voice. John cast a doubtful glance towards Draco, but I only turned and walked out, intent on going to the interrogation room. I wasn't going to let that git stop me.

It didn't seem as if he had changed much. He looked as young as he did on the day of that last battle, the day I'd first kissed him. His hair was cropped close to his face, and he was dressed in a long, pitch-black robe. His eyes widened when he saw me, but he cleared his throat quickly in attempt to break the silence. "Hello, Hermione."

"Ronald," I responded back cordially. Mrs. Weasley wouldn't look at me, instead keeping her eyes on the metal table in front of her. I turned my attention to her as she nervously twisted the necklace around her neck in her hand.

She was hiding something.

"Were you particularly close to Ginny?" I asked, speaking ambiguously to both of them.

I wasn't surprised when Ron jumped in immediately. "Of course. And she would never do anything like this! She was obviously Imperiused or something."

"That's what we're trying to figure out," I replied neutrally, folding my hands and leaning forward. "What was she like when she was younger?"

He looked taken aback at the question. "Well… she was innocent and naïve. Stubborn, good at school, liked to be around people…"

"I wasn't asking you, Ronald," I said, refusing to look at him, keeping my eyes on Mrs. Weasley. "I'd like to hear it from your mother."

She glanced up, startled. "I'm… sorry?"

"Was Ginny innocent and naïve and stubborn?" I asked, and I saw her flinch, a miniscule gesture that I knew I shouldn't have caught. But I had.

"So. You don't think she was innocent at all, do you, Mrs. Weasley?" I commented idly, raising an eyebrow.

"How dare you? She was my daughter. She was sweet, kind, generous-everything you could want from a child!"

I tilted my head back, shaking my head. "If you're going to fake anger you might want to learn how to get your face to reflect it."

She swallowed, a flash of fear on her face. And I saw her eyes shift towards Ron before shifting back to the table in front of her. That's when I understood what needed to be done.

"We'll no longer be needing your testimony, Ronald," I commented, waving my fingers in a lazy goodbye.

"That's it?" he asked incredulously. His head snapped up as he walked towards the wall behind us. "He's behind here, isn't he? Malfoy?"

"Excuse me?" I responded, refusing to raise my voice. I was not letting him get to me.

"I read the Daily Prophet. He's your new boyfriend, isn't he?" he demanded, and it was almost as if I was young again, listening to Ron's ridiculous tangents as I tried to calm him down.

"I hardly think my personal life is any of your business, especially since you're no longer a part of it," I replied serenely. "Now. Am I going to have to call a few Aurors to escort you out of the building?"

He glared at me. "I think I'm capable of escorting myself out," he spat, slamming the metal door behind him.

When we were alone, Mrs. Weasley's hand went up to fidget with her necklace again. I let the silence drag on. The more nervous she was, the more likely she'd be to…

"Well, aren't you going to say anything?"

Do that.

So she was afraid. Of what, I couldn't tell, but I hoped she'd tell me something now that Ron was gone. Maybe she wanted to protect him.

"Was she particularly empathetic?" I asked.

Her eyebrows drew together. "Well, I don't know."

"Did you think she was a good person?"

"She was my daughter. I loved her."

"I didn't ask if you loved her," I inserted firmly. "I asked if you thought she was a good person." I only knew that these were the terms Mrs. Weasley thought in: good, evil, black, white.

Her eyes were back on the metal table, and that was answer enough.

"Did she visit all that often?" I asked, intrigued.

She shook her head. "I haven't seen her since Fred's funeral."

"Why Fred's funeral?"

A bitter smile crossed her face, all in passing reminiscence. "I was crying that day," she said softly. "I couldn't stop sobbing. The mood in the house was so sober. Ron wouldn't look at me, and George wouldn't speak to any of us. But Ginny…" she trailed off.

"Ginny?" I prompted.

"I asked her if she'd like to speak at the ceremony, say a few words about him. And she turned to me, her eyes like ice, so cold." Her eyes were far away in remembrance. "She told me…" she almost choked up, but held strong. "She told me that she was glad. Apparently she was worried she'd have to kill him herself."

I was struck speechless. I couldn't imagine anyone saying something like that, especially on the day of a funeral. Ginny had always been so charismatic and personable, so interesting and sophisticated. I remembered Fred's funeral, remembered Ginny sobbing into her handkerchief, telling story after story about him. She told about every time she missed him, every time she thought about what he would have done if he had been there.

So it was likely she hadn't been Imperiused. It was likely she was just as cold and cruel as she seemed the night before, telling me she couldn't have cared less if Alex died because of her.

"I told her to remove herself from my house and to not come back until she found some common decency," she continued. "And she never did."

"You didn't speak to her for a decade?"

"She wrote me letters once every few months," she said. "She told me of a friendship she made with the younger Mrs. Malfoy. I believe she only told me to make me angry."

"What did she say about her relationship with Astoria?" I asked. If some of those letters had evidence, than we could find out exactly what was going on. We could nail the poison maker.

She blushed. "She never wrote anything specific, but I understood what she meant. When she was sixteen, I caught her with a younger pureblood girl. When she sent me an invitation to her wedding, I couldn't go, knowing she'd break that Zabini boy's heart and use that Malfoy girl until she was tired of her."

So it was true. She'd had an affair with Astoria and obliviated her. She'd poisoned Alex, but she hadn't made the poison. Surely it couldn't have been a coincidence, the fact that the poison maker was the caster. Which meant she must have been working with someone all along. "Did she mention anyone else?"

She shook her head. I allowed her to go, wishing her condolences for her daughter. I knew it must have been hard, losing two of her children in her lifetime.

Draco, of course, had been watching the whole encounter, and agreed that Ginny had probably been working with someone else. When he decided to head back to check on Narcissa and I decided to go back to my flat, we began walking, enjoying the cold air against our cheeks. Our hands were in our pockets, and I almost considered grabbing his arm, like that day we'd gotten completely knackered at the Three Broomsticks.

"You seemed panicked when you were told Weasley was in the building," he mused eventually. "What happened between the two of you?"

"That is not your concern," I said immediately.

"I think you know by now I decide what is my concern," he insisted. "So. What happened between you and Weasley?"

I let out a long breath. "We had a rather nasty separation."

"I gathered that."

"It doesn't matter," I told him firmly.

"Of course it does. Did you break it off?"

I nodded, unwilling to say anymore. Of course Draco wouldn't let it go. "Did he cheat on you?"

"With a pureblood Ministry employee," I admitted, immediately horrified that I'd blurted that out.

"You would have broken it off eventually," he mused, slowing his pace down.

"It was four months before the wedding, Draco. I hardly think I would have found a reason to break it off."

"You would have figured out he didn't treat you properly," he continued as if I hadn't spoken.

"Really? And how is it that I should be treated?"

One second I was looking at him with my eyebrows raised, and the next I was pushed back onto the brick wall behind me. Every inch of my body was pressed against him as he kissed me, all lips and teeth and scent. I instantly curled one hand in his hair and the other around his neck, intent on getting as close as possible. It was an eternity later when he finally broke away, our ragged breathing filling the air around us.

"Like you're wanted," he said eventually. "Like you matter. Like you mean everything."

And it was after he apparated away when I remembered what question he was answering.