Chapter Five

Malfoy wasn't bothered by the magazine. Hermione paced the length of his office as he read the article, an amused smirk on his face. "Wizarding London's most eligible bachelor… I like that," he mused. He continued to read, "has taken a fancy to war hero Hermione Granger…" He made a noncommittal hum and continued, "though some wonder if it's appropriate, as the pair are colleagues, their department working closely with the Aurors Department… daft bint didn't do her research, we are a branch of the Auror Department… Skeeter was much better than this writer."

"That's all you have to say?" Hermione cried. "This wasn't supposed to happen! We were supposed to have lunch- as fake friends- and now all of London thinks we're a couple?" She snatched the paper from him and pointed at the picture. "Did you have to lean in so close to me?"

He leaned over her shoulder to look at the paper and she stiffened. "It looks as if you're leaning in as much as I am, Granger," he pointed out. "Were you trying to see if my eyes had changed colors? Worry not, they're still gray."

"This isn't funny."

"No, it's not funny. Yet."

She looked up to frown at him. "What do you mean 'yet'?"

He started to chuckle. "It'll be bloody hilarious when Potter and Weasley see it."

Hermione swore.

…

"Granger, I had a thought."

Hermione looked up from her copy of the letter. She'd already scribbled pureblood next to the first three lines, then made a note to make a list of Voldemort sympathisers that had managed to avoid Azkaban. "Yes?"

"I think it's safe to assume that this means something," he slid a close up photo of the woman's wounds towards her. "But it's the first body that has any noticable marks. What if the murderer had made this symbol on the bodies before but since Potter never had the bodies physically examined, it was never seen? And what if this caused the killer to become frustrated, leading in the third victim having much more visible markings?"

Hermione blinked at him in shock. She hadn't even considered the fact that Harry might neglect to have a physical examination of the body. It was such a muggle idea; the magical tests would tell them what curses were used and the gaping wound on the woman's throats hadn't needed investigating…

"We should speak to Harry about this," she stood up so quickly she accidentally knocked off her copy of the letter she'd been making notes on. Malfoy leaned down and picked it up before she could grab it. His eyes scanned her notes and he frowned.

"What's this about 'ties to Voldemort', Granger?"

She straightened. "We now know the killer is targeting muggleborns. His letter implies that he believed in Voldemort's movement. Pursuing known prejudice purebloods is the logical direction to take the case."

He stood. "You do understand," his voice was icy, "that all of the known Voldemort sympathisers were acquitted? That the ones that escaped imprisonment were a bunch of kids at the time of their involvement, most of them coerced into following?"

"I understand-"

"You understand nothing!" He cut her off fiercely. "Did you know that I was forced to plot Dumbledore's murder in order to save my mother? Wait, you did know that. You were at my trial. Well Granger, let me tell you something you didn't know. I lived with that… psychopath in my home, and my father did nothing to protect me or my mother from him. Did nothing to stop the torture and fear that we lived every single day. Voldemort would've made sure that my mother's death was…. Terrible to say the least, had I failed. If Snape had not intervened, I would've pitched myself off of the Astronomy tower instead of meet what faced me."

He strode forward, backing her once more against a wall. Her fingers inched towards her wand. "And now, years later, I face hatred and isolation from the wizarding community, as do many others like me. And you want to now put them through even more? Just because of the disgusting ideals and actions of their parents?"

She pressed her lips into a thin line. "I wasn't accusing you, or anyone else of anything, Malfoy," she said softly. "I'm sorry for you-"

"Don't you dare pity me," he said harshly.

"Malfoy, I-"

There was a knock on his door.

Malfoy pulled away from her. He looked disheveled, his eyes dark, lips twisted into a scowl as he strode towards the door, yanking it open. "What?" He snapped.

"Is Hermione here?"

Hermione started at Harry's voice. She straightened her skirt self consciously before stepping into view of the doorway. "I'm here," she said.

Harry's green eyes narrowed at her. "Can I have a word?"

"Of course," she stepped outside and shut the door in Malfoy's face. Harry frowned at her, looking uncomfortable as he adjusted his glasses. Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "What?"

"Did you see the Witch Weekly?"

"Now Harry, I didn't know you subscribed to that trash," she said, cheeks red.

"I don't," he said gruffly. "Gin does. She sent me a note when she read it. Are you really dating Malfoy?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course not. We work together."

"Why did you go out to lunch with him?"

"We're colleagues," she rose an eyebrow at him, "and so what if Malfoy and I have become friendly. We're not in school anymore, Harry."

He shifted uncomfortably under her stare. "We may not be in school anymore, but he's still a git," he pointed out. "Have either of you made any progress on the case?" he asked, changing the subject.

"As a matter of fact we have. Why didn't you tell me that I was mentioned by name in the letter?"

"Oh," he looked at his feet. "That. Well I didn't know how to. I figured you'd just read it and find out that way. I have mentioned it to the Minister. I'm waiting for him to write back to me."

"And what do you expect him to say?" she frowned. "He might try to take me off the case."

"That might not be a bad idea."

Her eyes rounded. "Are you being serious? I'm the best on your team! You can't actually think that taking me off the case is a good decision."

"I don't know," he sighed, "I just know that there's a lot of pressure on me to solve this case."

"You need to take it public," she said. "Young women need to be aware of the danger. It's been five years, Harry. People can handle some bad news. Voldemort is gone. We can't hide this case because of what he did to all of us."

Harry rubbed at his scar, looking lost in thought. "I'll think about it. You're probably right, as always," he grumbled.

She gave him a smile. "Thanks Harry. I'll see you tomorrow? For the dinner?"

He nodded. "Maybe you can as Collins in the Department of Mysteries. I hear he's a decent bloke."

Feeling too guilty to tell him she'd already asked Malfoy, she gave him a weak smile. "Thanks, Harry, I'll think about it."

"Okay," he looked relieved. "I'll see you then. And please, be careful. I don't like that this psychopath knows you're working the case. I'd come over to put wards on your flat but you've always done them better than me."

"I'll add some stronger ones tonight," she reassured him. Harry left, looking exhausted, rubbing at his scar as he disappeared down the hall.

…

Malfoy was sitting at his desk when she re entered his office, writing furiously. He didn't look up from his work as she took her seat. She stared at him for a moment before turning to her work. If he didn't want to discuss the conversation from earlier, she wouldn't address it.

He slid his parchment towards her. "There's your list."

Surprised, she skimmed the list, eyebrows furrowing. "I thought you didn't want to go this direction?"

"Those are the men you should take a look at," he said, ignoring her question. He had an icy mask on his face as he stared at her. She reached for a quill and starred three of the names. He eyed her, but said nothing. She stopped at the last one, tilting her head to the side. Blaise Zabini.

"Malfoy, isn't this your frie-"

"Lunch, Granger?" Draco pushed to his feet, cutting her off in the middle of her sentence, heading for the door. Hermione hurried after him.

…

"Do you really think he could've done it?" They were sitting at the same table they'd had lunch at the previous day and after searching for reporters, Hermione had started to ask once more about Zabini. Malfoy dodged every question.

Malfoy frowned at her over his coffee cup. "Of course I don't. But you wanted your list and now you have it."

Hermione picked at her sandwich. She didn't have much of an appetite after reading the letter. It had unsettled her so badly that she could barely keep down the sips of coffee she continued to take. "The dinner's tomorrow," she changed the subject.

His silvery eyebrow shot up. "And to think, I almost forgot." He mused. "Our first Weasley dinner… as a couple," he added sarcastically.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, sod off, Malfoy."

"Such language, Granger," he tutted. "Tell me," he leaned in close across the table. "Do you use filthy words in bed as well?"

She shot back in her chair, back ramrod straight. "Don't be crude, Malfoy."

"Isn't it something we should discuss?" he asked innocently. "I mean, while I can see you being rather bossy in bed, I can also see you being absolutely wild-"

"Enough!" she hissed, looking around for reporters. "I really hate you, you know that?" she reached for her coffee and scowled at him. "You're mood swings are really getting old. One moment you're… flirting with me and the next you're boiling with rage. It's exhausting."

"Oh Granger, you noticed my flirting? I was worried you wouldn't catch on." He flashed a grin at her.

Her eyes rolled once more. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at four."

"I'll open my floo for you," he reached for his sandwich. "Don't abuse the access."

"As if I would."

He flashed a smile at her once more. "Oh come off it, Granger. Everyone knows you want to tear my robes off with your teeth."

She gaped at him. "You are unbelievable Malfoy."

"I know," he smirked and took a bite of his sandwich.