Chapter Twenty
The house turned out to be quite simple to access, all things considered. A hidden door, visible only when it was looked for or needed, appeared crookedly on the side of one of the shabby, brick apartment buildings.
Draco strode toward the door with a purpose, Hermione and Ginny trailing behind with reservations about the situation. Before Draco had even laid a hand on the door, it swung open by itself. A grey tabby cat emerged and scrambled across the street, bowlegged. The door hung open.
"Should we go in?" Ginny suggested.
"It's rude."
"Since when did you care, Malfoy?"
Hermione rapped cautiously on the doorframe, ignoring the bickering purebloods behind her.
"Quickly! Do you want the Muggles to see?" a clear voice rang out from deep within the narrow building.
Hermione ushered inside, pulling an astounded Draco and Ginny in behind her. Once inside, the door closed, again by itself. Hermione knew that, outside, the door on the brick wall was concealing itself once more.
"I'm in the back room," the voice called again. Faintly, the sounds of a piano wafted haphazardly through the apartment.
"Should I take my wand out?" Ginny asked, her eyes shifting around nervously.
Hermione shook her head 'no', but Draco pushed ahead of her, wand extended, ignoring her completely. She frowned, but said nothing. If Draco wanted to rush into the back room prepared for an attack, well... at least he would be first if there WAS one to expect.
As the trio headed to the back room, Draco first, the sound of the piano became clearer and clearer.
"Put that wand away, Draco, before you enter," the voice recommended. Draco stopped in his tracks, as if frozen.
Hermione, too paused in her steps. It would seem this woman really did have the Sight, rare as it is – unless she had strategic mirrors hidden somewhere. All the same… she was still more impressive than that old bat Trelawny, even before Hermione had even set eyes on her.
Opening the door – Draco had not heeded the woman's words to put his wand down – revealed nearly the antithesis of what Hermione had been expecting.
The room contained what, in all respects, appeared more like it belonged in the palace of the sultan of Saudi Arabia than in an apartment in London. The rugs appeared to be Turkish-made, intricate and bright. The walls, too were painted a bright red, as if to match the carpeting. Censers of incense were emitting soft and enticing odors. Statues of elephants, monkeys and miniature likenesses of Hindu gods were placed randomly around the room, made apparently of gold.
The room was empty. A Muggle radio in the corner, the only thing really out-of-place, was emitting the enchanting piano sounds.
Ginny let out a low whistle.
"Stay on your guard," Draco advised under his breath. His wand was at the ready still.
"Put your wand away please, Draco," the voice murmured again. It seemed to be coming from the walls.
"You'll forgive me if I have issues with trust," Draco replied to the wall. Hermione noticed he was using his polite voice – the one he usually reserved for pureblooded dinner guests, "As you have given me no reason to trust you, after all."
"But Mr. Malfoy, I'm hurt. You don't remember me."
Draco's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps if you would show yourself, it could jog my memory," he suggested.
"Determined and stubborn as always. That much hasn't changed about you, I see."
Draco set his jaw and lowered his wand a couple inches.
"Excuse me," Hermione spoke up for the first time, not sure in which direction to talk to, "But we're here to speak to Carissa Baxter. Are you she?"
"That is one of my names, yes. I have others. You must be the infamous fiancée."
Draco clenched his fist and demanded, "What's THAT supposed to mean?"
The voice chuckled, "All the talk that's been circulating regarding the next Mrs. Malfoy... it's got everyone in an absolute tizzy."
"That's why we came here," Hermione continued, eager to be at the bottom of the situation. "Can you tell us more? It's very important!"
"Put the wand away."
"Draco, for God's sake, put the wand down," Hermione requested.
"I don't trust her."
"Do you want to get to the bottom of this, or do you insist upon acting like a small child? Put it down!"
Draco set the wand down on the carved wooden table in the center of the room. Where on earth THAT side of Hermione had come from, Draco didn't know. Perhaps there was more fight left in Hermione than he'd originally thought…
"Lovely," the woman's voice said cheerfully. Three armchairs, each the inviting color of a deep glass of Merlot, appeared behind them. "Please have a seat. I'll fetch some tea."
The three sat in silence. Ginny was still taking in the room – something more like she'd seen on her family trip to Egypt rather than something she had expected in a London flat.
A woman appeared in the doorway, carrying a silver tray. She was easily the most beautiful older woman Hermione had ever seen. Her face showed hints of wrinkles in all the right places: Crow's feet around the eyes, worry lines etched into her forehead… all the signs of a life of many passions, both wonderful and terrible. Her long hair was silver – what a cloud might look like if it could be made into thread, contrasting her dark skin, typical of a woman from India. Her eyes were blue – not the ice blue one typically sees on blondes – but a deep, dark blue. Bluer than the sea.
"I have tea," the woman offered, setting down the tray, "and also some cocoa, though it IS a bit warm."
Hermione stared at the woman, who smiled gently at her before turning her attention to Draco.
"Are you able to recognize me now, Draco?"
Hermione and Ginny's heads both snapped around to look at Draco's face, which was a little rosy. He nodded blankly.
"Wonderful. I would have been terribly disappointed. Though I don't suppose your old piano instructor would have made a deep impression." Her eyes were sparkling as she turned to look at Hermione, "He was quite the determined learner, you know. Very precocious child – not something you see often in a six year old someone's plunked in front of a piano for the first time, you know."
As if on cue, the faint melody coming from the radio worked itself into a frenzy.
"He never even told me he played," Hermione admitted, struggling to keep up the polite conversation.
"A shame!" the woman scolded, giving Draco a disapproving eye, "He's quite good. You must get him to play for you very soon."
Draco mumbled something under his breath.
"You have a talent, Draco, you shouldn't hide it. It's much better than dueling, anyway – silly wizarding pastime."
"With all due respect, Ms. Baxter," Hermione interrupted, "we came here to get answers."
"Please call me Carissa. Much better than that stuffy old woman's name, don't you think? But I know, my dear. I don't often get visitors, you know – visitors always do get me quite excited. People always avoid this place like the plague. But forgive me – I knew you did not come here for my company."
Hermione's face burned red and she felt ashamed, though she also knew it was through no fault of her own that this woman was alone.
Draco leaned forward, his gray eyes fixed on Carissa. A piece of his platinum hair fell into his eyes. Hermione watched him, the businessman. He had grown up. "We need to know the circumstances this marriage was arranged on."
Perhaps there had been a strange kind of nut put into the scones they'd been served, because at that moment, Hermione could find no other reason why she should be experiencing such a strange sensation… something akin to heartburn. She ripped her eyes away from Draco and took another sip of her tea, forgetting it was still just a bit too hot to drink.
Strange.
Carissa inhaled deeply and sat back in her chair, the hot cup of tea seeming to be warming her whole body. "It's quite complicated."
There was a long silence. Finally, Draco quietly said, "It's very important we know."
Carissa's eyes flickered inexplicably to Hermione before resting on Ginny.
"I can leave if that's what you're implying," Ginny brashly announced.
"I am only allowed to speak of the prophecy to those involved in it," Carissa explained, her eyes sympathetic.
"I understand," Ginny replied, though her eyes betrayed a bruised ego. Draco's face hinted at the shadow of a smirk: He HAD tried to protest, after all.
The redhead stepped into the hallway with her cup of tea. As soon as the door had closed, Carissa muttered an anti-eavesdropping spell under her breath. Hermione felt bad for Ginny and awkward, left alone in a room with only Draco Malfoy and a strange Indian woman she didn't even know for companionship.
"I told your father I wouldn't speak a word," Carissa told Draco, her hauntingly blue eyes fixed on his gray ones. "But you're right – you should know."
The mouth that always seemed to smile, even when it wasn't, turned into a frown. Hermione swallowed another scalding sip of tea, realizing in the pit of her stomach that something was about to change… very drastically.
.
.
Author's Note: I must again apologize for the long wait in between the posts of this story. My excuse hasn't changed - this election season has been a huge mess! Whoever thought working for a newspaper could be so hectic? I think I'll have much more time once the elections are past, thankfully, and that's soon. I hope everyone's registered to vote!
Thanks to Readerforlife, GoodCharlotte615, Sunclouds and Snowdrops, brooklynsam3, RIPJameSiriusLupinTrueMarauder, MyLookOfDenial., and faerie-girl-101 for reviewing! Got some new readers in this bunch. That makes me happy. Yay!
GoodCharlotte615 - Cockatiels, huh? I had parakeets once. Never get those. I still hate birds.
MyLookOfDenial. - Most people do know, but I'm not surprised, as it's not really something desirable to talk about. Necromancy is the practice of magic regarding the dead, especially trying to raise the dead. Hope that cleared up any confusion.
faerie-girl-101 - Glad to see you're enjoying so far. I do love it when people like something I've created. Makes me all warm and fuzzy and all that jazz.