I returned the next morning and continued dusting, organizing, and labeling until I was again in need of a shower. It was truly disgusting how many of the journals were sticky , like the spilling of pumpkin juice or ink, while journaling was a Malfoy institution.
After several hours, I decided to pop back by my flat to shower and eat before returning to meet Malfoy.
While in the shower, I thought about how little progress I'd made today, how tedious a project this would be, and how much time I'd wasted coming home to shower when there were countless showers in the Manor.
If I couldn't take any journals home, the logical solution was to spend as much time as possible at the Manor.
I didn't want to stay the night, but if it came to it, I needed to be prepared.
I packed a few necessary things in my beaded bag just in case.
Xxx
I returned to the Manor at 7, expecting to find Malfoy waiting for me. He was not.
Unwilling to repeat yesterday's exhaustive search, I tried calling his cell phone.
It wrang several times before ending with an abrupt beep. No message, just that disrespectful beep.
"Erm, it's Hermione, er Granger, I'm here waiting for you in the drawing room. You said you'd be here–" I rambled before abruptly ending the voicemail I was not prepared to leave in the first place.
I rolled my eyes and cursed before taking a seat by the fireplace. I'll just wait here, I suppose.
Thinking back to our last conversation, I could not recall whether or not he ever said exactly what time he'd be home…
Fortunately, a fresh copy of The Daily Prophet was on the table next to me. After a minute or two of waiting, I helped myself to the rolled collection of parchment, only to regret it the moment I saw the cover.
'Diagon Alley Welcomes Malfoy Industries,' the headline read, followed by a picture of Malfoy and a vaguely familiar model. Had I seen her in Witch Weekly, or was it Vogue?
Perhaps she is why Malfoy was away last night and perhaps why he couldn't be bothered to return on time tonight.
I grimaced at the two before skimming the rest of the article, recognizing the newly constructed buildings I'd passed on Saturday.
When asked about the Ministry's progress in their investigation into Lucius Malfoy's murder, the business mogul had this to say: "It saddens me to admit the Ministry has yet to make any progress. The DMLE would rather focus their energy on harassing me during my time of grief than on actually conducting a legitimate investigation." The heir refused to answer any further questions about the case but is requesting privacy and respect for his family at this time.
It wasn't a good look for the DMLE, but at least he hadn't mentioned the CBD, I thought to myself when the POP of apparition sounded behind me.
"It's about time," I complained, standing and turning toward the sound.
To my surprise, it wasn't Malfoy but an elf.
She was the oldest, most fragile elf I'd ever seen and the best dressed. It seemed things had changed since Dobby's days serving the Malfoy Family.
"Oh! Hello! My sincerest apologies. You must be Trixie!" I could hardly contain my surprise and excitement as I moved toward her.
Trixie stood silently, tray in hand, carrying a glass of wine and a note.
"I have been hoping to meet you for quite some time now. I'm Hermione Granger." I rambled beside myself with this good fortune.
Trixie's only response was a shaky curtsy followed by the lifting of the tray toward me.
"I really don't want to be of any disposition to you. Please don't feel any obligation to serve me in any way. I prefer not to burden you with my presence. Really, I was hoping for the opportunity to speak with you - as part of my investigation."
Again, she lifted the tray up to me until it was almost above her head.
Not wanting to be rude, I took the glass of wine and the notecard. But as soon as they were both in hand, she apparated away.
Damn.
Without thinking, I took a sip of the wine, recognizing instantly a delicious Pinot Noir– my favorite. Then, I flipped over the notecard.
Pool.
Wow , I thought, crumbling the note card and heading toward the stairs. Malfoy better be able to multitask because I did not come here to watch him swim.
By the time I'd arrived at the pool, I'd downed most of the wine; it was exceptionally good. However, it was not enough to dull the surprise of finding Malfoy in nothing but a black, boxer-brief-looking swimsuit.
I nearly dropped the glass as I approached him, swimming in the opposite direction. I finished the last sip as he reached the far end and began his return.
I positioned myself at the edge of the pool so there would be no missing my presence as he finished the lap. I wanted the first thing he saw to be my impatiently tapping pointed-toe stiletto.
"Move, Granger," he greeted me rudely when he emerged as if my presence was a great inconvenience.
I stood my ground, arms crossed and foot tapping.
"Fine; if flashing me your knickers is intentional, and you want your shoes to get wet, by all means, stay right where you are." He smirked cruelly, placing both hands on the ledge and lifting himself up.
Infuriated and embarrassed, I jumped back, moving out of his way and taking the underside of my skirt out of his view.
"I didn't come here to watch you swim, Malfoy," I muttered, turning away as he stepped toward me.
Somehow, he was even better looking, soaking wet and better looking than I'd imagined him in my dirty dream. I quickly forced the thought away and averted my eyes.
"No. You came here to drink my wine and berate me with questions, I'm sure." He challenged, bringing his wet, nearly naked, perfectly chiseled body closer.
"Something like that," I replied curtly, summoning a towel with my wand and forcefully thrusting it into his chest.
He shrugged, wrapping the towel around his neck as he walked into the attached room with a WC and sauna.
I followed him, determined to get answers. Then the shower started, and I lost all ability to move.
I wasn't in the bathroom, and I couldn't see him showering, but he'd left the door open, and this still felt way too intimate.
"Oh," I managed awkwardly through the wall. "I'll just wait for you in the-the—" I stumbled, not sure which room to pick.
I turned to leave but stopped when he spoke.
"It's been a long day, Granger. Just ask your bloody questions and get on with it."
I stood frozen in the doorway, momentarily forgetting myself and all my questions.
"I think we—we need to set some ground rules. Some boundaries…" I managed after a while.
Silence, aside from the sound of running water, was the only answer I received.
Soon, the water stopped, and he emerged, towel around his waist, hair slicked back, and brushed by me as he walked back toward the pool. His scent, mixed with chlorine, lingered in the steamy air around me, and I struggled to find words.
"Merlin, fine, I'll meet you in the dining room," he grumbled in response to my silence.
"I've already eaten," I blurt out, trying to ignore the wet muscles of his back.
"Good, I wasn't offering," he quipped before he apparated out of the pool area.
A few minutes later, I was nursing a fresh glass of wine at one end of the dining room table when Malfoy entered the room.
He took a seat at the opposite end of the table, where a crystal tumbler of fire whiskey quickly appeared for him. He took little notice of his drink, instead choosing to glare at me with annoyance.
"I suppose we should start with what you know about the curse." I began as Malfoy's food appeared.
His attention shifted to his plate, and he completely ignored me and my question.
"Hellooo?!" I question him, feeling heat fill my cheeks.
His knife scraped across his plate obnoxiously as he ignored me once more.
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose in an attempt to collect myself. He said he would answer my questions; he's just trying to get under my skin. I can't let him. If I lose my temper, he wins his game.
That gave me an idea.
"Let's play a game," I suggest, adding a cheery tone to my words.
That caught his attention.
"A game?"
"Yes, a game of make-believe, if you will." I didn't give him time to argue before continuing. "Imagine if I was someone you respect; perhaps you even enjoy my company, and you not only believe in my ability to help you, but you also want my help breaking your family's curse. How would you respond when I ask you to tell me everything you know about it?"
He arched an eyebrow at me from over the edge of his upturned glass of whiskey.
"You think I'm not enjoying myself?"
Again, heat filled my cheeks, and I had to resist the urge to send a hex flying across the table.
"Malfoy, if you're not going to take this seriously, why bother being here in the first place?" I demand, sitting straight up in my seat and crossing my arms.
"Because the Ministry ordered me to be." He replied snarkily like I'd asked him a stupid question.
"They didn't say you had to live in this house and torment me while I try to help you."
"The Ministry didn't ask you to live in this house, my bloody property, and torment me , but here you are all the same." He taunted, pleased with himself.
"Ughh, you're insufferable!" I exclaimed, reaching for my wine glass.
"You make it too easy."
"' Easy ' would be answering my questions without all of these games!"
"Drink your wine, Granger, I'll answer your questions. Just let me eat first."
I quiet then, taking a page from his book and glaring at him across the table, imagining dozens of creative ways I could ruin that smug look on his face.
It didn't take long for him to break the silence.
"Don't just sit there awkwardly; I know you're just dying to say something ."
"No, I'll wait here until you're finished so I can get on with it."
"Oh, come on now." He chuckles, emptying his glass. "You wanted me to enjoy your company. Tell me something… something interesting."
"I'd rather vomit," I admitted as his glass refilled.
"Tell me…," he mused, taking a sip of fire whiskey. "Tell me what happened between you and Calvin."
I scoff in my throat in response. "You've lost your bloody mind, Malfoy."
"You know, I've always been pretty good at legilimency—"
Oh shit.
"You wouldn't dare," I replied between clenched teeth.
"It would be much easier if you just told me yourself." He teased, the smugness practically dripping off him.
"That's rich, coming from you."
"I think answering one of my questions equates to me answering three of yours."
"Six." I challenged, realizing that this could be it. He might finally start sharing vital information if I play along.
"Four, now let's hear it. Tequila was it?"
I pretended to mull it over, hoping the Calvin story was worth the secrets Malfoy would have to spill afterward.
"Fine…" I dramatically relented with a roll of my eyes before finishing my second glass.
As expected, it refilled, and I took another sip, readying myself to tell my arch nemesis one of my cringiest memories.
"It was one of the hardest weeks of my life. I was working around the clock on multiple investigations, I didn't have my team back then, and I was still trying to prove myself. My cat died. Then, in the middle of it all, we had this silly Ministry Mixer meant to promote interdepartmental cooperation; it ended up being an excuse for Magical Law Enforcement to get wasted out of their minds. I was stressed, exhausted, and devastated at the loss of Crooks, but my friends forced me to go. I was in no mood to party, but I tossed a few glasses of wine back anyway. Then, after a bottle or so, Harry handed me a shot glass and said, 'This will make you feel better.' Then another." I roll my eyes and take a breath before continuing. "I hadn't eaten anything, so the tequila hit me hard. One moment, I was dancing, then the next, I was apparently fawning all over a new transfer from MACUSA who was not at all interested in me."
I throw my forehead into my palm before taking a big sip of Pinot.
"My friends rescued me, or him rather, and got me home before I did anything too crazy, or so they told me, so I didn't think much of it. Until the next week, when I started interviewing for curse breakers, guess who walks in? Calvin, the transfer from MACUSA."
I risk a glance up at Malfoy and see his smirk open into an amused smile across the table. I tried to ignore it and focus on my cuticles instead, but it was difficult not to find it appealing. It encouraged me to finish my story.
"I was mortified, absolutely beside myself with humiliation. I was honestly so close to obliviating him, but then he started talking, and thankfully I listened. Thankfully, Harry had already spoken to him and explained my situation; it turns out Calvin is married and interested in curses, so, wildly enough, Harry sent him back my way. Once I got to know him, I realized we had a lot in common, and he was a great fit for the team I was building. What are the odds, right? I still apologized to him at least a dozen times and wanted to apologize to his wife, but he assured me it wasn't necessary. So, yeah, that's the story of how I almost ruined Calvin's marriage and then hired him four days later. Happy?"
Malfoy, and his smug little grin, actually did look happy.
"Ask your questions, Granger." He nodded, setting down his fork and leaning back in his seat.
So I did, and surprisingly, he answered.
"What do you know about the curse?"
"Every Malfoy heir dies in this house. They die in different ways, at different ages, but always here. I have no idea how far back it goes, far enough for no one to know how it started. My grandfather, Abraxus, for example, died of dragon pox. He was otherwise young and healthy but died within 24 hours of contracting it. According to Father, they could never figure out how he contracted it, and no one else in the family caught it."
"Do you have a family tree I could reference or something similar?"
"Erm, it's probably somewhere in there with the journals."
"How long has Trixie been employed here?"
"No idea." He shrugged. "At least as long as I've been alive."
"Has she always been mute?
"As long as I've known her."
As the remains of his meal disappeared from the table, I thought about his mother. Torn between not wanting to lose this momentum and ruining his helpful state entirely, I skirted around my next question.
"So, erm, your—"
"That was four questions, Granger. So unless you want to answer another of mine, I think we've made enough progress for one night."
I snorted.
" We ? I don't recall you being here while I cleaned and organized journals all day."
He seemingly ignored me while he got up to leave.
"Finish the bottle, Granger." He sighed, taking his glass with him. "Hopefully, the wine will prevent you from being here at the crack of dawn tomorrow."
"Don't worry, I'll wake you up if I have to."
"You'll regret it for life if you do." He threatened flatly. "Good night, Granger." And with a parting smirk, he left me alone in the dining room.