At Grimmauld place the following morning, my mind was still distracted with questions about Seraphina, much to the disappointment of Ginny.
"Are you listening? I asked you to hand me those frogs you bought me. The closer I get to my due date, the more my magic is on the fritz." Jumping up from my dazed state, I do as she says, and she continues. "Thanks, Mione. After nearly setting the bloody place on fire trying to light a candle, I put my wand in a drawer for safekeeping and have been slumming it the Muggle way ever since. Mum says she had the same issues in her third trimester."
I tried to listen; I really did.
"That's fascinating, Gin. Can I get you anything else?"
"You can help me clean up all these frog boxes and organize the cards. I've got quite the collection going."
In her ninth month of pregnancy, she was clearly struggling to get around; so I didn't mind.
"I can see that," I chuckle, looking at the pile of chocolate frog packaging that spilled onto the floor next to her preferred seat.
I grabbed a garbage bag from the kitchen, cleared the mess, set aside the famous witch and wizard cards, and considered returning to the Manor a night early.
I didn't like being there alone, but maybe Malfoy would be back from France this evening. I could stay the night and get a super early start tomorrow. Maybe I could jump ahead and find James' section of journals.
"Harry says he tried to call you. He's concerned about the investigation. And, concerned about you." Ginny states in a tone that drains my other thoughts away. "Thinks you're mad at him."
"What? Why's he concerned about me?" I questioned defensively, too defensively.
"'Why isn't he concerned?' is the easier question. He feels bloody bad about dropping this investigation on you. He heard about your team getting injured and feels responsible for that, too. Mostly, though, he's concerned about you working with Malfoy."
"He's mental. I love him, but wow." I huff with a roll of my eyes. "Tell him I'm fine. My team is fine. Tell him when I have made noteworthy progress on the case. I'll let him know."
It's a lie, but I'd been readying myself to tell it.
"You know he'll only believe that if he hears it from you."
"I know, I know. I've just been busy." I reply truthfully.
"He knows you've taken your team off the case. That was news to me when he told me. What's going on, Mione? I thought you weren't keeping secrets."
Not prepared to lie again so soon, I panic and do the next best thing I can think of - deflect.
"Does he not trust me with this investigation? He said he wanted my assistance, my expertise…I took on this case at the drop of a dime, rearranged my schedule, my teams' assignments, and agreed to dedicate a whole month to solve this case - for Harry, to help Harry! As the head of the CBD, I have the right and responsibility to decide which assignments my team takes on; just because Harry's given me this case doesn't mean my team and department don't have other, more pressing assignments. It also, contrary to what you or Harry may think, doesn't mean I'm incapable of handling this investigation alone. I'm invested in this case and working my ass off, so, honestly, it's insulting that you or he would question my decisions here."
I regretted each word as they hit their mark. I'd explain everything in time, but not yet, not now.
"We care about you, Mione. We just want you to be safe, that's all."
I needed her and Harry to back off and give me until the end of the month, so I kept going.
"Well, you can tell Harry that the owl that attacked my team is no longer a threat and that while Malfoy may be a pain in my ass, he is not a threat to my safety." I could feel heat rising in my cheeks with each word, frustration building.
"He's still a murder suspect…" She argued with me in a manner that was infuriatingly similar to her brother, Ronald.
"No, he's not. If he were, if there were any evidence at all against him, he would be locked up right now. Not assisting me with this investigation." I snapped back, not defensively, but with clear annoyance.
"So you don't think he killed Lucius?" She challenged, readjusting herself in her chair.
"I know he didn't kill Lucius. I wish you, Harry, and Ronald would put aside this vendetta against him. It's ridiculously childish." I admitted a bit too freely.
I meant what I said, but I didn't mean to insult my best friend…And judging by her pink flushed face, I'd definitely ticked her off.
"So, are you and Malfoy, what, friends now or something?" She demanded, crossing her arms.
I vaguely remember her discussing her inability to control her magic at this stage of her pregnancy and realized I needed to back off for my safety, her safety, and the baby's.
"Gods, no! He's-he's immensely irritating, and we mostly ignore each other. In fact, the only time he's tolerable is when he's not talking. That's about the only polite thing I can say about him." Besides the fact that he has an impossibly divine body, face, and eyes…
"Well, okay then." She quips, and I forcefully blink away all thoughts of him.
"Anything else you'd like to know?" I offer the closest thing I have to an olive branch as I resume organizing her many collectible cards.
"No." She responds curtly.
"I brought some very steamy books I think you'll enjoy."
"Let's see them then." Her tone softens slightly, and I bring her the stack of books to look at.
"I wasn't sure which tropes you'd like most, so I brought a variety," I say as I absentmindedly gather the last cards while she looks over each book.
A mischievous-looking man surrounded by small rodents peered up at me from one of the cards.
Thaddeus Thurkell
1632-1692
Known for his skill in transfiguration, most notably shown when he transfigured his seven squib sons into hedgehogs.
"Can I have one of these?" I asked, muffling my excitement as my rampant thoughts of Seraphina Thurkell resumed.
"Err, sure, as long as it's not Ptolemy or Agrippa," she said, dismissively waving her hand as she began reading the first page of the sports romance novel I'd brought.
Xxx
I didn't stay much longer after that; I couldn't focus.
Instead, I went home, repacked my beaded bag, and carefully packaged Seraphina's journal, mentally somersaulting between everything she'd written and the mass of guilt building in my stomach.
Ginny didn't deserve that. That wasn't me.
It was half past 8 when the green flames of the drawing room fireplace subsided around me. The Manor was cold, dark, quiet, and, per usual creepy as fuck.
My stomach growled, breaking the silence, and I ignored it, I deserved to starve after my behavior earlier. I'd made my bed; I'd lie in it. I also ignored the goosebumps that pricked up my arm as I listened for any sign that I wasn't alone.
Silence.
I made my way upstairs to my favorite part of the Manor, hoping it could lighten my mood.
Something about being surrounded by books always made me feel at ease. Even if it was in this strange, uninviting abode.
Entering the library through the main doors, I stilled as a blonde head came into view.
Lounging on the right side of the sofa. In my spot. Reading a journal. In my spot.
"Comfy?" I managed through gritted teeth, now was not the time to be fucking with me.
He never sat on the sofa. He was always in one of the chairs, on the window ledge seat, at the desk, or walking around reading. He read and sat anywhere but on the sofa. That was my spot.
He turned a page, ignoring me.
Bastard , I swore under my breath before an idea came to mind.
I grabbed my notepad and a pen, walked around the sofa, kicked off my shoes, and sat down on the left side of the sofa; then, with much ado and readjustment, I propped myself up against the sofa's arm, put my feet up, and positioned myself to face him with my notepad in my lap.
And then I waited.
Slowly, painfully slowly, so slow my face was fully flushed by the time he lifted his head from his reading to meet my eyes.
"' Comfy ?'" He smirked.
I rolled my eyes and repositioned myself, again, feeling silly, and straightened my posture to face him anew.
He returned to his reading, unphased.
"I lied for you today."
He ignored me once more, and my blood boiled.
"I lied to my best friend—for you," I said, louder this time, demanding his attention.
"I-I-I gaslit her into thinking she was wrong for even asking me questions. The least you can do is acknowledge my presence."
I watch as he closes the journal with an annoyed exhale.
"I'm afraid I mistook your fondness for ignoring me as your personal preference. If it's acknowledgment you so desperately crave, then hello, Granger." He leans forward to set the journal on the ottoman, then turns to face me, somehow closer than he was before. "Lie to your friends and lie to yourself all you want, Granger. Deep down, you know it's not for me. You lie to continue your facade of control over this investigation."
No one uses my last name like he does, like it's punctuation. I hate it and maybe even like it at the same time, even when I absolutely abhor everything else he says. There was something about my name on his lips…
"You asked me to keep this a secret," I say, motioning to the journals on the ottoman. "Therefore, I'm doing it for you , Malfoy."
"I never asked you to do all of this ," he argues, mimicking my hand movements. "But your insistence on continuing this investigation necessitated confidentiality."
"Okay, yes, but you-you don't get what I'm trying to say." Fuck, did I even know what I was trying to say?
"Then say it …better." He drawled, narrowing his eyes at me challengingly as he rested his arm along the back of the sofa and leaned toward me. "Explain it to me, Granger."
I worked to steady my breath as I tried to figure out what I wanted to say and also how we'd both somehow gone from sitting on the ends of the couch to the middle.
"I'm not a liar, not to those I care about. I take pride in that. So if I'm willing to betray their confidence for you, for this, I should at least be able to to trust you, to confidently work with you. Instead, your rudeness, obstinance, and secrecy seem to be getting worse by the day, and it makes me question all of this. I know you didn't ask for it, that you don't want my help, but you don't have to make me regret it. You don't have to make this so difficult. I'm a respected and reasonable work partner and human being, and I'm willing and able to treat you as such. I'm only asking for common decency here. And honesty."
I unleashed a whooshing exhale as I finished, then eagerly waited for his response. It felt good to get that off my chest. Maybe now he'd get it.
"Trixie?" He called into the empty library.
Are you fucking kidding me?
I'd just unloaded my actual feelings, and he calls for the elf?
Said elf appeared a moment later.
"There you are, darling. Can you bring us a bottle of wine, you know the one, and something to eat for our guest?" He risked a look in my direction before adding, "Something quick before she bites my head off. Thank you, Trix."
I'm already getting to my feet as the elf disappears with a POP .
"I can't with you. I'm going to read in my room." I announce, sliding my foot back into my left shoe.
"No, no, sit your ass right back down. Have a glass of wine. Let's talk."
"Talk? You want to talk?" I ask incredulously, stumbling as I try to step into my right shoe.
His hands grab my hips, preventing my fall and steadying me. Then, abruptly and unapologetically, he pulls me back down to the sofa beside him.
"I want you to stop huffing and puffing because I sat in your bloody favorite seat on MY sofa." He yelled, simultaneously releasing me and scooting an inch or two back.
"I was not!" I yell back, knowing the full-body blush from his words was nothing compared to what his brief man-handling had done to my core.
"I thought you weren't a liar, Granger. And you want me to trust you with all of my secrets? Shame." He replies calmly, looking more amused than angry now as if he could see right through to the wetness building in my knickers.
"You miserable mother fuck-" I start before Trixie appears before us with a large tray of charcuterie and a bottle of pinot noir.
"Thank you, Trixie." He says.
"Thank you." I follow, truly grateful to see she's brought my favorite wine and food and realizing just how bloody hungry I am.
We wait in awkward silence as she opens and pours the wine. Assembling this gorgeous array of delights in a minute flat meant she hadn't had a chance to let the wine breathe.
Once our glasses were full, she looked at me, then at the tray, and then back at me as if waiting for my approval.
Either with hunger or guilt, I quickly grabbed a large chunk of cheese and a crisp and shoved it into my mouth.
"Mmmm!" I confirmed with a thumbs up as I chewed.
Luckily for me, she disappeared immediately after.
"What were you saying?" Malfoy chimed in with a self-satisfied look.
I hold up a finger to him, signaling him to wait as I finish chewing. I keep my finger up as I wash everything down with a big swig of wine. More for my nerves than anything. Then I continue.
"I'm not asking the world of you, Malfoy. I don't need all your secrets, but this is your house, your family- you are the subject matter expert and you have made this nothing but difficult every step of the way. I've proven you can trust me. It won't kill you to give me some goddamn answers sometimes. Honest ones."
"What makes you think I've been lying to you?"
"Past behavior is the best predictor of future behavior, and lies of omissions are your specialty." I snap back."Would you have ever told me about the maze being a graveyard if I hadn't followed you in the other day?"
"You want honesty, fine. Drink your wine, eat your nuts & cheese, then I'll answer your questions, Granger. I'll be decent ."
I'd had so many questions before, and now I was drawing a complete blank. Just my luck.
"I-er-okay. Let me think."
I sample a bit more of the food and finish my glass as I come up with my questions.
Finally, with my hunger temporarily relieved, he refills our glasses, and I start.
"Have you come across a James Malfoy in your reading yet?"
"No."
"What about a set of identical male twins?"
"No."
"Does the name Seraphina Thurkell mean anything to you?"
"No. Where are these questions coming from?" He eyed me with a quizzically raised brow.
"I read something that doesn't make any sense. We still haven't found your family tree in there." I muse, waving toward the hidden library. "Is there anywhere else it could be?"
"I'm not sure; I could check our Gringotts vaults sometime this week and have Trixie look in storage."
"Okay. That could work." Finally, something to give me hope. "The Black family tree covered the walls of an entire room at Grimmauld Place. I was honestly surprised not to find something similar here."
"Sorry to disappoint. Even before mother's post-war redecorating spree, we did not have such a room."
I try to ignore the rare comment about his mother, knowing any questions about her will bring us right back to square one. I rack my brain for other options and remember Friday's discovery.
"Is there an order to where everyone is buried in the maze? If we can't find your family tree, perhaps I can fill in the gaps by looking at tombstones…"
"Yes and no. There is no precise order, given the shape of the Maze. However, I've never exactly cataloged it. I buried Father near my grandparents. There is a spot remaining next to him for Mother, but I will have to be buried in another section of hedge." He stated in a matter-of-fact manner that did not seem to level with a late twenty-something discussing his own burial plans. "There is an area in the back right corner where pets are buried; that's where I put Felix."
"Okay." I breathe, taking a moment to process. I've read some fascinating research on magical cemeteries. They're not always safe. Have you experienced anything unusual or dangerous there?"
If he didn't know, I wouldn't be the one to break it to him. Cemeteries held ancient and dangerous magic, the kind of power that would be terrible in the wrong hands. But like many old magics, it was not a well-known fact. Most who experimented with it wound up dead, or so I'd read.
"Not that I can recall. It's always felt…odd, but that never stopped me from whizzing through there on a broom every chance I got. It made for an excellent quidditch agility training course." He answered proudly.
"I bet."
"You look displeased." He said, his amused look shifting into one of disappointment.
"I hoped you'd know more. That's all." I admitted.
We sat in silence for a few more minutes and finished off the bottle of pinot. It really was the best of the best.
"Are those all of your questions?" He asked after a while.
"For now." I mused, reaching that lovely, fuzzy, sleepy feeling that wine often delivered.
"Good, finish eating. I'll see you in the morning." His exit seemed abrupt in my haze, but I didn't try to stop him.
Instead, I followed him with my eyes as he left me on the sofa and exited the library.
"Goodnight, Malfoy," I whispered.