Hermione stared at Malfoy. She tried to determine whether he was joking or not. Well, he was not the person to joke around, but still…
"So, to rephrase what you said, you are currently a werewolf because Fenir Greyback bit you?"
He let out a sigh. Hermione noticed, with a start, that it sounded more like a growl. She stared at him curiously.
"Yes, Granger," He said in a bored voice. "Do try to keep up."
Hermione ignored the subtle bite in his words and sipped her tea. She wondered what had really happened to Malfoy. She knew that his family valued blood purity over everything, even their own happiness. She let out a quiet snicker, imagining how Lucius Malfoy would have reacted to this situation. His well-bred, pureblooded only son, turned into a werewolf, now asking help from a mudblood in a café full of muggles. He would be rolling in his grave.
"Something funny, Granger?"
Malfoy was looking at her with narrowed eyes. She hastily turned her laugh into a cough. Much to her embarrassment, she sounded like she was hacking out a hairball.
"How did that happen? I mean, your family used to insanely value blood purity… what happened?" She clapped a hand over her mouth when she realized what she had blurted out.
Malfoy glowered at her.
"I never wanted this. Hell, nobody would want this," he spit out, his voice bitter. He took his dark coat off, revealing the white shirt he was wearing underneath. He was wearing an expensive-looking muggle suit, she realized. She could bet that even that suit, muggle or not, was perfectly tailored. The shallow collar of the shirt did nothing to conceal the angry red bite mark on the side of Malfoy's pale neck.
Hermione let out a gasp. He looked at her ruefully.
"It was punishment for what my father did. He somehow got on the Dark Lord's bad side. That snake just had to choose me as a sacrifice. My father didn't really do anything to stop what that bastard did to me."
Hermione looked at Malfoy with pity. Most of the wizarding world still hated him for being a Malfoy. In truth, he was one of the people who had suffered the most. The good side detested him for being on Voldemort's side, while the dark side itself, instead of favoring him, treated him like an outcast when he failed to kill Dumbledore. It was sad, really.
"Stop looking at me like that, Granger," Malfoy glared at her, his grey eyes piercing. She quickly looked down at her lap. Exactly how hard was his life? He didn't deserve this.
"Now, how does you being a werewolf relate to Witch Weekly?" She asked, trying to subtly change the subject. She tried to lighten the heavy mood, but her voice came out fake. Malfoy stared at her suspiciously, as if he wanted to detect something from her face. To her relief, he looked away after a few moments.
"You see, Granger, I would be in a very compromising position if anybody figured out that I was a werewolf," Malfoy said slowly.
"Seems like it," Hermione said under her breath. Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her.
"Witch Weekly somehow managed to find out that I was one, although I haven't told anyone else. They threatened me that they would publish an article about me on Monday."
Hermione let out a gasp.
"Merlin, Malfoy, you only have three days left! What are you going to do?" She asked.
"That's the reason why I hired you, Granger. I have dealt with angry people sending me death threats, but the press… I'm not sure how big the damage would be. If my current situation is revealed, it would be critical to my name and my business."
She nodded, but a part of her still didn't want to believe that this was real.
"It's only a gossip magazine, Malfoy," she tried to argue.
"Will people believe it for real? I mean, you already had a couple dozen scandals reported just by that magazine alone. Why would that be different with this situation? I don't think people will believe it,"
Malfoy looked at her like she was dumb.
"Granger, I thought you were better than this. Seems like you were just a muggleborn after all,"
"Excuse me?"
She felt her voice going shrill.
"You have only seen werewolves under the protection of Dumbledore. You haven't really seen how they were treated in real life. People hate us, Granger. They would do anything to tear us down. Werewolf rights? Nobody cares about them. You don't know what it's really like."
Two red spots appeared on his cheekbones, his voice getting louder.
"You don't know anything, Granger. You don't know how many people are waiting to pounce on us to tear the Malfoy name, to tear my name, apart. If THEY know that I'm a werewolf, they'll drag the Malfoy name through mud. I spent so much time building my company and getting back what my father messed up. I can't go through that again,"
He breathed out heavily, covering his face with his hands. His hands were trembling.
Hermione nodded, at a loss for words. Although she didn't pretend to understand Malfoy, she knew that he was right. After the war, the Malfoy name had gone down in status. She had vaguely heard that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had died, and that Malfoy had built a business on healing potions. He had started out rough, but had finally gained trust within the Wizarding community after a couple of years. He finally gained the respect of the wizarding community when he produced a line of modified wolfsbane potion that reduced the pain of transformations. She knew how big this damage would be to his carefully built reputation.
A part of her wanted to just ignore him and walk away; the part which had screamed in the Manor parlor after too many crucios thrown her way. She wanted to pretend that this meeting had never happened, and that she didn't have to work to save Malfoy's reputation.
"Let him be ruined again," she wanted to say. "He's considered evil anyway."
However, another, more rational part of her knew that he didn't deserve it. He was just a scared boy, like everyone else was. To be honest, she knew that she would have been forced to go to the dark side, or at least pretended to, if an evil maniac snake-faced wizard was camping out in their house (who wouldn't?). If her loved ones' lives were on the line, she knew that she would have made the same choices as Malfoy had.
Why was life so hard for her?
Rubbing her temples, she sighed. He came to her for help. Maybe he had really changed, and would respect muggleborns after this. She knew that her hopes might be futile and that she would be hurt again, but she couldn't release that one shard of hope. She just made life harder for herself. She sometimes hated herself that way.
"Does the Witch Weekly have concrete evidence that you're a werewolf?" she asked briskly, preparing to take notes.
Malfoy nodded grimly. He seemed to be in control of himself again.
"Yeah. They sent me a collection of the photos they took of me during my transformation. Pretty concrete,"
Hermione let out a grimace.
"And their incentive? Did they have a specific reason for threatening you?"
He shook his head.
"It's outrageous. They didn't even say anything about it. Also, they didn't promise to delete my pictures forever; it only specified this one time. So there is a high possibility that they will use it for blackmail again,"
Hermione nodded.
"Did Witch Weekly as a whole threaten you, or is it specifically just one person?" she asked.
Malfoy opened his mouth to answer, then closed it, looking puzzled.
"I actually have no clue," he said, looking mystified.
"I got the warning and the threats by letter. I have never actually seen this person,"
Hermione nodded.
"It will be less of a threat for you if the person targeting you is an individual, not the whole Witch Weekly itself. The amount of people who know this will be smaller if an individual is targeting you."
Malfoy nodded slowly, as if he were already making a mental list of the potential people who could have threatened him.
"I think what you should do is to send a letter to the person who have been sending you the threats. You should tell him to meet you in person, saying that you want to make a deal with them. What do you think?" Hermione asked.
Malfoy nodded, seeming to be deep in thought.
"I think that will work. It would be best if I tell the person to meet somewhere inconspicuous."
"That sounds reasonable. Contact me after you've met this person, Malfoy. If this person doesn't answer within a day, we'll have to come up with a backup plan." Hermione said briskly, gathering up her belongings. She wanted to end this meeting as soon as possible to have some thinking time by herself.
Hermione still did not understand him. Why would he come to her, out of all the prestigious lawyers out there? She expected that a family as rich and influential as the Malfoys would have a family lawyer which took care of everything for them. She also knew that the manor was heavily guarded from intruders; centuries of magic protected them from almost everything (well, except for noseless bald wizards). How could have the reporter gotten proper pictures when it was nearly impossible to enter the Manor grounds?
She knew that she would have to ask these questions someday, but she wanted to find out who the person threatening Malfoy was. A new young and reckless reporter, probably. Although the Malfoy had considerably gone down in status compared to before the war, it still was an ancient family with power and connections. It was foolish, really, to try to take a jab at Malfoy.
She had to admit that she was intrigued at the case. All of her other cases were majorly domestic disputes or light crimes that needed a simple testament on her case, which didn't take long to prepare for. However, Malfoy's case could lead to a legal battle between him and Witch Weekly, the biggest and most influential case she has ever done. She was drawn to it.
But then she also remembered the pain, the screaming, the cackling. She knew that it wasn't his fault that she was tortured in that awful parlor. She ruefully rubbed her arm where the scar still cut into her skin. Her mind just turned away from him, as if to block the onslaught of memories that his face brought.
She let out a light sigh, turning to go out of the small curtained chamber.
"Wait, Granger," Malfoy reached out and grabbed her arm. She felt a small shock where their skin touched. Static electricity, probably. "Yes?" she asked, refusing to turn around.
"Would you be willing to have lunch with me? I have a few more matters to discuss with you," Malfoy said smoothly, gesturing towards his watch, which read noon.
Hermione wanted to just go back to her flat. She desperately needed to sort out her thoughts.
"I'm sorry Malfoy; I have another meeting scheduled soon," she said, trying to subtly exit the small curtain closed space they had been talking in.
Malfoy shook his head.
"No, you don't. I checked with your assistant ahead of time," he replied, not releasing her arm. "We both know you have time left; why don't you join me for lunch?"
Hermione tried to tug her arm out of his grip with no avail. She gritted her teeth.
"Fine, then. I only have an hour for lunch, though,"
Malfoy smirked at her. He held his arm out. Hermione looked at him questioningly.
"Manners, Granger. A gentleman should offer a lady his arm." Malfoy rolled his eyes. He sounded bored, as if he expected her to know this already. "I'm not going to harm you, Granger. It would be terribly irritating for you to die before you solve my case. We're going to go to a restaurant near here,"
Nodding her head, she hesitantly slipped her hand into the crook of his arm.