It didn't take much for my real life to invade my dreams. When stressed, I often dreamt of missed deadlines, failed projects, lost cursed items, or other work-related problems. But last night was different.

Last night, I was running through darkness. First, I ran through tall aisles filled with glass orbs, then through a stone archway, then through the Ministry's halls, all the while knowing I was being chased but not seeing what was after me. Then, just as I thought I'd escaped through the lobby floo, I was transported to a room with vaguely familiar vaulted ceilings and iron chandeliers.

Recognizing whose home I was in, I turned back toward the fireplace; this wasn't my home, nor where I was supposed to go. Green flames filled the massive hearth again, giving way to an intricate silver mask and suited figure.

I took off running again, each doorway leading to an even darker room or space until I could no longer recognize my surroundings or find an exit. I tripped and tumbled forward as my pursuer closed in. The tip of his wand probed into the back of my neck as I tried to get back up.

"Leaving so soon, Granger?"

I'd awoken with a start, drenched in sweat, relieved to see the familiar surroundings of my bedroom.

I propped myself up, rubbed my eyes, and sat there awhile. Despite knowing I was safe, I couldn't shake the ominous feeling, that dull ache of something foul looming over me.

Something dangerous.

I looked at the clock, it was 3 a.m. That was early, even for me. I tried going back to sleep, but after several fruitless attempts, I gave in and got up.

I took my time showering, applying my usual makeup, getting dressed, and, most importantly, fashioning my wild curls into a slicked-back bun.

My curls were much looser and less frizzy than they once were, but I'd quickly learned that flowing curls were not to be taken seriously at the wizard-filled Ministry. Straightened hair was too feminine and inviting, and the effort it took was inherently obvious and vain.

A pristine bun was practical, modest, and aesthetically appealing without being sexy. It took me a couple of years to realize this, but I'd been wearing one ever since.

Once I was ready, I grabbed a pear and headed to work. More information about Malfoy Manor had to be in the Ministry's archives…

Xxx

By 10:30 a.m., I'd searched for, found, and read through everything within my access at least four times, not that there was much.

Despite Malfoy Manor being in this Sacred 28 family for roughly ten centuries, there were no complete blueprints, no records of its transition between each generation, and virtually nothing that could be useful. I searched for additional information on the Malfoy family and was disappointed again. There was no family tree, no financial information, nothing of use.

It was like information about the Malfoys had been destroyed during the war or was being stored elsewhere.

The only thing remotely relevant I could find was documentation regarding Lucius' stint in Azkaban after the war. He'd served a total of 5 years before his release. As far as I could tell, he'd hardly made himself known in society since, much unlike his son, who'd moved to France and created a new life for himself.

Annoyed by the lack of headway, I thought through my options.

I'd told Malfoy I was coming over for a tour. It was about 11; I could still do that, whether he would meet me there or not.

I was pretty sure I read in The Prophet that he was staying in town. I suppose now would be the first time since his father's death that he'd be allowed back inside his ancestral home, but per Harry's letter, Malfoy was only allowed to be there in cooperation with my team's investigation…

Given his reaction to my phone call, he wanted little to do with that.

In fact, I could have Malfoy Manor entirely to myself for an afternoon…It would be the perfect opportunity to map out the place and strategize.

Before I could give it a second thought, I was skipping toward the Auror office. Their fireplace should still be connected to Malfoy Manor since I hadn't had the opportunity yet to have the CBD's set up.

Surprisingly, I didn't run into any other weekend workers on my way there; it only helped convince me that I was on the right path.

I grabbed a handful of floo powder and stepped into the sooty brick archway. The words I needed to speak to invoke the green flames and transport me to my desired location suddenly became trapped in my throat. All moisture seemed to depart my mouth, and my airways narrowed.

Just relax. It's just a house. Think of how beneficial this will be for the team… Fucking relax, you've got this!

Thank fucking Godric, no one walked into the Auror office during the nearly 10 minutes it took to calm myself down and then hype myself up.

Finally, I leaned my head from side to side, backward and forward, to release the tension in my neck; then I threw the floo powder down.

"Malfoy Manor."

When the flames subsided around me, I came face to face with a wall of windows, one I'd seen before. The vaulted ceilings and iron chandeliers, unfortunately, also jogged my memory.

Nausea gripped my stomach as I took in the rest of the room.

Then, an eerie chill crept across my shoulders and down my arm as I recognized the long table and dark wood floors. I looked around, half expecting droplets of my blood to still be visible. The scars on my forearm itched at the thought.

On edge, I grabbed my wand and swung it back and forth, searching one side of the enormous drawing room, the other, then back again.

The silence made me feel uneasy as I stepped out of the fireplace.

I triple-checked each dark corner before quickly exiting and descending a large stone staircase, stairs I vaguely remember a snatcher dragging me up. Flames bloomed in sconces along my path as I traversed deeper into the manor; with my very little understanding of the layout, I was thankful for the light.

Once I'd located the foyer, I had five new paths to explore. Another stone staircase opposite the one I'd just descended, two opposite hallways, and a doorway on either side of the main entrance.

I reached into my beaded bag, removed a pen and parchment, and then jotted down a few notes and sketches before continuing.

I chose the South Wing stairway to start with; if I remember correctly, Lucius's body was found near a 1st-floor landing; this was the ground floor, so back up I went.

As I ascended the large stone steps, the air seemed to drop several degrees, bringing back a feeling of unease. The sconces lit up as I reached the landing as if anticipating my exploration. Once again, the light from the flames helped alleviate the nervous feeling in my stomach.

Once on the first-floor landing of the South Wing, recognition sunk in. I stepped closer, my eyes dragging from the dark doorways down to the floor where Lucius Malfoy's body had laid. My breath caught in my throat, making my attempts to fill my lungs futile. I could see it ahead of me, gaunt and graying; all the skin sucked into the bone.

Crack.

A noise sounded faintly through the halls, but it was enough to jolt me back to reality. I froze before whipping around to check behind me.

Was someone else here?

I continued across the landing into the hallway and meandered my way down narrow hallways, poking my head in and out of empty bedroom rooms until another crack led me in the opposite direction.

Wand held high; I changed course in my pursuit of the noise. As the end of a narrow hallway came into view, so did several doorways. A flickering light appeared from the door ahead of me; I entered, wand ready.

It was an extravagant office with a massive desk, fireplace, and various seating arrangements. I stepped through the doorway, searching each chair for signs of life.

I opened my mouth to call out, but a tingling at the base of my neck made me think better of it.

Someone was in the Manor with me… friend or foe, I'd better find them before they find me.

As I spun around to exit, my plan proved short-lived; I collided with an unexpected figure.

I gasped in shock and then screamed as glass shattered loudly around my feet. Solid fists grabbed my wrists as I instinctively lashed out with my knuckles against whoever blocked my exit.

"What the fuck are you doing, Granger?!"

The low snarls in the R's of my name made me freeze. Slowly, I faced the tall, suited foe that stood before me.

"Let. Go. Now." I hissed back through gritted teeth.

He cocked his eyebrows at me as if to say, 'Make me.'

Then, just as I opened my mouth to repeat myself, he forcefully released my wrists with a shake.

White marks appeared against pink flesh where his hands had been, and I resisted the urge to rub the tender area. Instead, I stepped back, steadied myself, and raised my wand.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" I demanded, noticing a smear of red on my wrist. Was I bleeding?

"I could ask you the same thing. Is breaking and entering typical protocol for the CBD? My, my, I thought you said you were above treasure-hunting goblins..."

Forgetting the blood, I seethed in response and then examined the glass scattered around me.

"It's just a glass," I gritted with a flick of my wand. "Vitrum Reparo."

The tiny shards came together to form a tumbler and landed in my hand. I quickly shoved it back into his chest, hoping to leave a mark as I gave it back to him.

"I wasn't worried about the glass; however, the 400 galleons worth of fire whiskey you spilled everywhere was a rare batch." He drawled as he stepped over the amber liquid and pushed past me. "I suggest you clean that with your tongue."

A mix of his cologne and the whiskey's spices infiltrated my lungs as I spun around after him.

"The, I, wh—!?" I could hardly form words as surprise and outrage bubbled up within me. This mother…How dare he?

He strolled behind the desk, used his wand to conjure more ice in his glass, then reached into a drawer and removed a fancy dragon-blown glass bottle. I watched him pour himself two fingers worth before responding.

"Father always kept his best fire whiskey here. At 5,000 a bottle, it should be savored…not wasted on the floor." He brought the glass to his lips and eyed me expectantly from the rim.

The mischievous edge to his voice gave me the impression that it wasn't his first glass. My nails dug into wood and flesh as I gripped my wand at my side, imagining the terrible, permanent damage I could inflict on that porcelain face with just a flick.

He set the glass down and took a seat, oblivious to the tumult of disdain lingering beneath my skin.

I cast a silent charm to siphon the liquid from its puddle and scattered droplets on the floor into a small liquid orb.

"Oh yes," I mused with mock enthusiasm, striding toward the desk with the orb trailing behind me. "It'd be an awful shame to waste it."

As I reached a chair across from him, I sent the orb of dirtied liquor into his glass, letting it drop with a splash as I sat.

I watched the skin around his mouth tighten and his jaw clench, half expecting fire to billow out of his nose next. Instead, he closed his eyes and exhaled. When he faced me again, I expected daggers, but to my horror, I got an amused sneer.

My lips pursed in response, but I leaned back and crossed my legs as if I hadn't cared.

A cocky chuckle left his throat as he stood, and I tightened my grip on my wand. I worked to steady my breathing and maintain my false aloofness as I followed him around the desk with my eyes only.

I pinned myself in my chair when I should have stood and readied my defenses, but by the time I realized and sat up in my seat, he'd positioned himself directly in front of me.

The office was spacious but certainly not big enough for him sitting on the edge of the desk, his dragon-hide shoes inches from mine, to feel like anything less than an invasion.

Repositioning myself had only brought me closer to his shit-eating grin as he leaned slightly forward.

"You know, you must be very brave for someone who needs my help. Or very foolish." He mused before returning to his trademark smirk.

This time, it was my turn to close my eyes and breathe.

How was I ever going to make it through this investigation? Why did I let Harry talk me into this?

I inhaled deeply, inadvertently filling my lungs with his scent, which I begrudgingly found appealing, then quickly exhaled, dispelling as much air as possible to remove him from my airways.

"Listen, Malfoy," I began, trying to maintain focus. "For reasons currently beyond my understanding, you do not want to assist with this investigation; however, your assistance is necessary and required for obvious reasons. The sooner you make your peace with that, the better."

"Have you made peace with it?" He drawled, haphazardly loosening his tie.

"With what?" I argued, recrossing my legs.

"Because for…reasons beyond my understanding, your assistance is necessary and required, and, for obvious reasons, you do not want to assist with this investigation." He mocked.

He wasn't wrong, but he was annoying…

"I think you're actually onto something," I admitted, jumping to my feet and skirting by him. "The sooner we acknowledge the elephant in the room, the sooner we can get on with this business."

I made my way over to the fireplace as I spoke, needing space between us. My efforts proved vain, as he soon followed, glass full of soiled whiskey in tow.

"Do tell, Granger, I'm all ears." He chided before dumping the glass' contents into the flames and setting it on the mantle.

The fire roared in response, burning my cheeks with the excess display of heat. I took a step back from the fireplace and wiped my brow.

Just relax.

"Neither of us wants to be here. Neither of us wants to work with each other. There. The elephant. Now, we can get on with it." I said, relief washing over me as I did.

Clearly, the same feeling wasn't true for him; his eyebrows pinched together, and his smirk transformed into a scowl.

"You think it's that simple?" He snarled, undoing his cufflinks.

"Why isn't it?"

He stepped closer, and I stepped back once more.

"You're not the only one with bad memories from this house, Granger. I'd wager you still have nightmares, too." He stepped forward, and again, I stepped back until I bumped into furniture behind me. I stumbled back over the arm of a sofa before his hand wrapped around my arm.

In quick succession, he pulled me upright with one hand and yanked the sleeve of my jumper up with the other.

"Mudblood," He read aloud the still visible scars on my forearm.

I recoiled at the word and ripped my wrist free, noticing new blood smears.

Eyes darting to his hands, I spied a small cut across his palm and faded black ink protruding from his undone sleeve.

Following his lead, I tore his sleeve open, exposing his Dark Mark.

"Death Eater," I spat back.

For a moment, I saw the flames from the fire behind him reflected in his eyes, and the next, he was storming away.

"Fools we both were, thinking we'd escaped. Yet here we are again, trapped in the Manor." He spoke through his teeth as he retreated behind the desk and retrieved the bottle of fire whiskey.

Two flicks of his wand created two new glasses and a third added spheres of ice. He poured a generous serving into each before bringing them to the fireplace.

He all but shoved the glass into my hands, ignoring my scowl. I took it, narrowing my eyes at him as he sat in an oversized armchair.

There was something about his eyes that gave way to something I was quickly growing familiar with: unease.

Was he nervous, too?

As soon as I noticed it, he blinked it away, combing his fingers through his hair and tossing a sip back.

I took that as an invitation to sit and settled on the sofa I'd nearly fallen over moments before.

"Let's get this over with, shall we?" He sighed loudly as the liquid no doubt burned his throat and lowered his inhibitions. Then he leaned forward, wiping a hand across his face and into his hair. There was no doubt in my mind then that he was nervous, and his tell was becoming apparent.

"Gladly," I responded before I promptly dove into my plans.

I told him about my team and our process: divide the manor into sections, run our scans and collect data, review and compare our data, and finally use the cross-referenced data to determine the next best steps for removing curses and/or cursed objects. He listened, or so I judged by the fact that he didn't interrupt or exit the room.

By the time I finished, he'd nearly emptied his glass, and my mouth felt parched.

I considered the pros and cons of taking just one sip as I swirled the melting ice and whiskey around in the tumbler.

"If you waste a third glass of this, Granger, I will burn this place to the ground with you in it." He groaned half-heartedly as he stared into the fire.

I knew he couldn't be serious, and I'd never been one to drink before noon, but then again…

I took a small sip to be safe.

The warm liquid eased its way across my tongue and down my throat with spicy tingles, eliciting a pleasured hum as my belly warmed.

"Good girl." He smirked, lowering his voice to a deep whisper.

Heat spread across my cheekbones and deep within my abdomen, flowing through my veins like poison. My body halted its intake of breath as I processed the physical effect his remark had had on me before my brain began breaking it down to the insult he likely meant it to be.

I crossed my legs and continued with the questions I had for him. Most of which he chose to answer obstinately and negatively.

"I've walked around a bit, but an actual map would be helpful for my team. Do you have any blueprints?"

"No."

"Okay. Do you currently have any knowledge of cursed objects, areas, or dark objects located within the Manor or on the grounds?"

"No."

"Are there any areas that would or could prove dangerous and/or should be approached with caution that we should be aware of?"

A muffled scoff and a shrug.

"Do you have any information whatsoever that may prove helpful to this investigation?"

A bored sigh followed by a shake of his head.

I'd hoped the alcohol would have loosened him up, but no such luck. This was pointless…

"If you won't help me with this, can I, at a bare minimum, trust you not to harm me or my team as we investigate your father's case?"

He finally turned to face me, incredulity flashing across his features along with the flickering light from the flames.

"That depends," he said, his face changing to cocky indifference as he stood. "Are you going to drink that?"

I considered it; honestly, it was divine; then I shook my head no. I needed to keep a clear head around him.

"Pity." He mused before walking over and taking the glass from me.

He downed it in one gulp before tossing it back into my lap. Then he paused momentarily, tightened his tie, and rehooked his cufflinks; a gesture that, under any other circumstances and done by any other man, would have been appealing…but this was Malfoy. His crisp, fitted suit was only missing a silver mask to complete what I really saw in him.

"Tomorrow," he interjected sternly, "you'll arrive no earlier than 10. Your team can start on the first floor and work their way up daily. No objects will be removed from the Manor without my explicit knowledge and permission. Any damages or mess caused by your team will be corrected immediately by the culprit. Instruct your team to bring their own meals, as I will not have my elf burdened by their presence. And last but not least, I am not above having NDAs drafted to prevent your lot from spewing their data to whichever reporter offers them the most, nor am I above curses and hexes." He sternly and carefully etched each word, almost completely masking his whiskey-fueled slur.

I sat, somewhat stunned by the change in his demeanor, and watched him walk almost all the way to the door.

"Wait," I demanded, forgetting the tumbler was in my lap as I jumped to my feet.

For the second time that day, glass shattered around my feet.

A cringe instantly overtook my mouth as I watched his shoulders rise and then drop in frustration.

"Haven't you done enough damage for one day?" He drawled from the doorway.

Then, without even a look back, he exited the office.

I quickly reassembled the glass and marched after him. We weren't finished here.

But he was out of sight when I reached the hall. On instinct, I turned left, following the hallway past a sizeable living area, then across an area that overlooked the ground floor, and somehow found myself back in the drawing room where I'd started.

I waited, repressing the memories of my torture in this room, and listened. The silence was, once again, painstakingly unsettling.

After hearing nothing but my own breathing for several seconds, I decided to leave.

Tomorrow, I'll be more prepared; tomorrow, I'll have my team at my side; tomorrow, I'll find out what this hell hole is hiding.