"Granger, you're late," Malfoy pointed out in a clipped tone, not bothering to look up from where he languidly sat in a high-backed armchair intently examining his cuticles, one leg crossed indolently over the other, bouncing a rhythmic cadence as he reached to pluck a fleck of lint from his trousers. "You do know your time isn't the only one with value."
She stumbled gracelessly into the Receiving Room of the Manor only to be unexpectedly assaulted with her partner's detestable attitude. "Don't even start, Malfoy."
Her eyes narrowed in annoyance as she eyed the way in which he willfully ignored her arrival, standing expectantly for longer than was considered proper for an arriving guest. When no formal greeting befell her, she stalked over to where he sat and stared down as the broody wizard continued to avoid eye contact.
She gave his bouncing leg an unrefined shove causing it to fall gracelessly to the floor. "If this is the way the night is going to go, I may as well just go home." She followed his maddening stare downward toward his assaulted appendage as he remained blatantly unaffected by her warning.
"It's nice to see you're still as violent as ever," he drawled dismissively, never looking up.
She huffed in irritation. "What has your wand in a knot? I'm exactly 43 seconds behind schedule so now we're back to where we started from this morning?" She frowned down at him with a shake of her head. "I'll have you know, Harry unexpectedly dropped by my flat to deliver some very troubling news about the case. But I suppose it's easier for you to brood over my slight delay than it is to actually act like a normal human being would and inquire as to why I may be running a bit behind." With a noise much like a growl, she muttered a muffled, "You know what, sod off!" as she turned and stormed back toward the Floo.
She hadn't even heard him rise from his seat when his fingers abruptly closed around her arm, yanking her away from her retreat mid-stride. "Didn't your mother ever teach you it's impolite to use that filthy language?" He glowered down at her, so close she could feel his breath ghosting across her face.
"I should have known it was a mistake coming here." She yanked her arm forcefully from his grasp. "You are the same loathsome cockroach you've always been."
He moved swiftly to cut her off, blocking the entrance to the Floo.
Their eyes locked in a stubborn battle of wills when from out of nowhere a loud POP! rang out and the house-elf Baron materialized at his side.
"Master Draco, Baron is putting the finishing touches on your dinner with the Missus. Would you..." His eyes grew infinitely more bulbous as he realized he and Draco were not alone. "Miss!" he shrieked, bowing so low to the floor, his tunic lay piled at his feet.
Startled by the house-elf's entrance, she stared in stunned silence from Draco to the house-elf and back again to Draco, a look of utter disgust slowly spreading across her face. "You have a house-elf? You despicable piece of worthless sh-"
"He's hired help," Draco cut in before she could finish. "And he's compensated quite generously for his efforts, aren't you, Baron?" He looked down at the elf expectantly for affirmation of that notion.
"Yes, Master Draco," he squealed brightly. "Baron is happy to be here at the Manor helping Master Draco with the cooking and cleaning and polishing and washing and ironi-"
"Do you hear what he is saying, Granger?" Draco interrupted, lips tilted up in a self-righteous smirk. "He is here on his own accord."
She jutted out her chin in revulsion. "What I hear him saying is that you're a fully-grown man that is seemingly incapable of taking care of yourself! Now if you would, please step aside so that I can leave you to your pathetic, over-indulgent existence." She moved to circumvent his position, but he was infinitely quicker, his towering frame a fortress against her immediate escape.
A sudden dulcet whimper interrupted their hostile battle, followed by a muffled sob. "Did Baron do something to upset the Missus?" he sniffled, wiping his abnormally long nose on his sleeve and looking up at Hermione with doleful eyes.
"Oh, no, Baron," she replied tenderly, bending over and offering him her deepest heartfelt reassurance. "You didn't do anything to upset me. Quite the opposite, in fact. I was just leaving because my business here with Mister Malfoy is finished and I'm needing to get home to..."
"But the Master said yous be eating dinner here at the Manor tonight. Do yous not like my food?" he asked, eyes dropping down to the floor despondently as he kicked his foot at nothing in particular. "I can make yous something else if yous like."
"Oh, no, Baron," I'm sure what you've made is quite lovely. Only..."
Baron's eyes snapped back up to meet hers with an exuberant smile stretching across his face. "Missus will stay!" he squealed, jumping up and down and reaching for her arm which was lying limply at her side. Twisting on his heel, he forcibly pulled her from the fireplace and into the hallway, her retreating form shooting an exasperated look back at Malfoy, who stood there with his arms crossed over his chest and a victorious smile plastered across his face.
He inwardly chuckled as Granger was mercilessly hauled away, taking mental note that the witch continued to be rendered defenseless against the plight of a house-elf. She never could seem to resist the allure of a good charity case.
Moments later, they sat blankly staring at each other in the cavernous formal dining room, Malfoy seated at the head of the obscenely long table and Granger perched snuggly to his side. Of all the unexpected scenarios she had run through in her head before coming there that evening, encountering a house-elf was at the very bottom of her list. That is to say, it had not occurred to her even in the remote recesses of her mind that Draco would still partake in the barbaric practice of forced labor.
As plates magically filled with food, and glasses swelled with the finest elf-made wine, their fiery stares never strayed. It would be a showdown for the ages, as both were evenly matched in stubbornness. The only thing more distracting than Draco's heated gaze was the delectable aroma wafting through the air. A mix between caramelized onion and Roquefort cheese.
Her stomach burned with intense hunger pangs as she imagined taking her first bite of the savory, French tart sitting before her, only she currently waged an internal war with herself, struggling to decide if she should oblige the overly-zealous house-elf and tuck into his labor-intensive spread or boycott his abhorrent servitude by refusing to eat anything provided her.
It would appear she chose the latter, but with each mouthwatering breath, it became more and more difficult to stay the course. She was about to concede and reach for her fork when surprisingly, Malfoy broke the silent staredown.
"So is this the same variation of your little game from earlier? Am I supposed to guess what Potter was in such a hurry to tell you this evening?" He looked with irritation at his wristwatch. "Because I don't have all night to read your obstinate little mind." He paused, his aristocratic features replete with calculation. "I'm sure Kingsley would be sorely disappointed to hear his department head was keeping critical information from her colleagues."
Guileful eyes never left her face as he deftly swallowed a sip of water from his goblet.
She huffed inelegantly as an angry flush suffused her cheeks. "While you're busy telling Kingsley about my supposed insubordination, perhaps you should casually mention to him that you're holding a severely brainwashed house-elf captive in your home, relentlessly using him to do your bidding."
"If you'd open your eyes and look around instead of sitting there with a massive stick up your arse, you'd see that Baron is quite happy here and very well taken care of!"
She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. "Right. If your delivery owl is any indication of how well you take care of things, I needn't look any further."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he hissed, leaning forward menacingly.
"Oh, I don't know, only that he showed up on my windowsill absolutely famished and couldn't seem to muster enough energy to leave until I fed him what remained of my breakfast!"
"Wait, what?" His shoulders visibly stiffened with the clenching and unclenching of his fists. "You fed my bloody owl your breakfast? What exactly did you give him?"
She paused to consider how much more of the truth she should provide.
"I'm waiting," he said bitterly, donning a look of extreme displeasure as a muscle twitched around his jaw.
She cleared her throat and pronounced flatly, "Toad in a hole."
"For fuck's sake, Granger!" he shouted in exasperation, slapping his hand on the table. "What sort of a mentally deranged person feeds an owl toad in a hole?" Recklessly raking his fingers through his platinum locks, his eyes fixated on her with a murderous glare.
Without flinching, she jutted out her chin and replied simply, "Well, I wouldn't have had to feed him had you been properly caring for him yourself."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he took several deep, measured breaths. "You never could seem to refrain from sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. Your extreme lack of self-control is utterly appalling."
Hermione unfurled a high-pitched laugh. "Oh, I'm the one who is lacking self-control?" she scoffed, more false amusement escaping her throat. "I'm not the one who pitches a fit when someone arrives at their home 30 seconds behind schedule! Not to mention, it's horribly unbecoming of a grown man..."
"How is the Missus liking her dinner?" Baron squeaked from where he stood at her elbow.
Wholly consumed by the heated exchange, neither she nor Draco noticed his abrupt reappearance.
With the sinful sweetness of which she addressed him earlier, Granger smiled ever so politely down at Baron. "My goodness, it is the most delightful meal I've ever had the pleasure to partake in." She covertly reached down and retrieved her dinner fork, casually breaking off a piece of her tart and discreetly transferring it to her mouth. "Mmmmmm, Baron, this is quite lovely, thank you ever so much."
Draco watched the sickening display unfolding in front of him and wondered how she could go from evil incarnate to Mother Teresa in the blink of an eye.
Baron's cheeks inflated with immense pride. "Is Missus beings ready for her entree now?"
"Well now, let me see," she replied, in the same sickeningly sweet voice. She glowered up at Draco, a sour look suddenly adorning her once pleasant face. "Master Malfoy, are you ready to discontinue your childish tirade and proceed with the lovely dinner Baron has prepared for us?"
His eyes flashed a deep loathing before he replied in an equally saccharine tone. "Why Miss Granger, I'd love nothing more than to move this dinner along as quickly as humanly possible. The sooner it concludes, the sooner I can depart this hellscape of an evening I am currently shackled to." He flashed her a constrained grin, the likes which never met his penetrating eyes.
"That's an excellent idea," she agreed coarsely. She glanced back down at Baron, her expression morphing again into one of pleasantry. "Your master and I would love more than anything for you to bring us our entrees."
With an overeager nod and a POP! the house-elf vanished into thin air.
The stiff silence that followed his departure was deafening as the pair began tucking into their now cold appetizers, scant minutes seeming like torturous hours as they deliberately avoided eye contact. Hermione barely seemed to notice however or perhaps didn't care, too submerged in the tantalizing flavors invading her senses with well-defined layers of culinary bliss.
She bristled thinking of how the entitled prat sitting next to her dined in this extravagant manner every single day. It was no wonder he could hardly manage to cope in the real world.
The remainder of their meal passed in the same strained silence, until Baron had vanished their empty dishes and they were forced to address their next move.
Hermione was entirely content to depart the Manor and complete her portion of the research from her flat. Draco, however, had yet to be apprised of the recent development in the case. And despite the fact that he would have much preferred to be left to the relative peace and quiet of the empty Manor, he knew the information she possessed had to be meaningful or Potter wouldn't have urgently appeared at her flat.
He thought back to their time together at Hogwarts and cringed to think that yet again she had managed to be one step ahead of him. All these thoughts were swimming in his head when he heard the scraping of Granger's chair on the dining room floor indicating her departure.
"Well, give my best regards to Baron," she muttered stiffly, and with a half-shrug, she turned on her heel and walked toward the double doors leading to the hallway.
"Wait," Draco interrupted, suddenly unsure if it was his own voice that uttered the traitorous word.
She paused mid-step, turning back briefly to face him, a resolute hand on her hip as she eyed him expectantly.
He rigidly rubbed his forehead before sighing resignedly. "I think you'll agree that tonight didn't exactly go according to planned."
That was a gross understatement, she thought, wondering why he felt the need to make such a pointless assertion.
He eventually glanced up, calmly adding, "And, well, I figure the sooner we can find out what sordid scheme is behind the Strout murder, the sooner we can move along from one other."
Despite the thinly veiled slight, Hermione swore she saw a flicker of remorse churning behind his eyes but she continued to remain silent, appraising him with guarded skepticism.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm willing to overlook your shortcomings this evening if you're willing to disregard mine."
Her shortcomings? She inwardly scoffed, desperately wanting to inquire as to what exactly were the shortcomings of hers that he was referring to, but considering what she already knew of Draco Malfoy, this was likely the closest she would ever come to an apology and she didn't want to ruin it before it even had the chance to be born.
She nimbly squared her shoulders, looking down her nose at him from across the room. "And what exactly is it that you are suggesting?"
A pale eyebrow raised into his hairline as he assembled his next words with judicious calculation. "I thought you might like at the very least to still see the Manor's ancestral library. Perhaps you may find something there to your liking. Maybe a book or two for your research." He gave an abbreviated shrug of indifference, covertly watching to see if she'd take the bait.
She swooned at the thought of the journey through the ancestral library being back on the table, but knew not to allow him to see her enthusiasm. Tales of its magnificence were something of legend during her years at Hogwarts. She had always wished to be let loose among the stacks, full well knowing there was a very good possibility she may never surface again. Despite her untamed excitement, she carefully crafted her response. "I could perhaps spare a minute or two to take you up on your offer. But I mustn't delay much longer, as we've already wasted an entire hour of our research by doing whatever it is this was." She flapped her hand brusquely at the dining table.
"Understood," he muttered evenly, pushing out his chair and rising to join her at the exit. "You won't be disappointed, I assure you," he added with an air of confidence. "Follow me."
As he led her down the hallway toward the library, he praised himself for his smooth victory. He was a Slytherin through and through.
"I wouldn't have mistaken you for the black, velvet drapery type," she mused, gesturing to the walls lined with thick, dark curtains. "It's unexpectedly...gothic."
"It's a recent addition," he said, stopping abruptly and causing her to collide into his backside. He turned sharply, hastily wrapping his hands around her upper arms to steady her as she stumbled. "Can you watch where you're going, Granger?" he grumbled irritably, notably making no attempt to step back.
She stared up at him, all of a sudden able to observe the precise shade of his eyes. Grey like vintage silver on a cold winter day. And was that bergamot...with a hint of something woodsy she smelled? She swallowed thickly, feeling the loosening of his hands from around her arms. "Sorry," she said, the words coming out in a hoarse whisper.
"Who goes there? Draco, is that you?" A disembodied female voice rang out from just beyond the curtains.
"C'mon, Granger, let's go." Before she had the chance to inquire who or what had called out to him, she was being dragged down the hallway by her sleeve.
"Malfoy, let go," she hollered, her feet struggling to keep up with his longer stride. "Quit manhandling me, you brute..."
Malfoy whirled around the corner past a set of double doors and swiftly deposited her into the most majestic scene Hermione had ever had the good fortune to witness, rendering her completely speechless.
When she'd finally gathered her wits about her, she choked out an audible gasp, her eyes growing as big as quaffles as they traveled from the pearly white marble floor to the impossibly tall coffered ceiling, where countless bookcases lined with thousands of leather-bound tomes hovered. An oversized Persian rug, silver with ivory medallion insets, cascaded like water across the expanse of the grandiose sitting area, punctuated by two decadent onyx Italian leather settees and matching sapphire winged back armchairs.
As her ravenous eyes glanced around in utter amazement, she surmised there must be an entire continent of appurtenances depicted in this one room alone. With each measured step, her heart raced with anticipation, rivaled only by that of her first day at Hogwarts.
She ran her finger reverently along the spines of each volume as she continued to lose herself within this decadent dream.
With a well-intended smirk, Draco lightly grasped her arm and feigned to drag her from the stacks. "Well, Granger, this concludes the tour. Kindly collect your belongings and find the nearest exit."
The maneuver startled her from her insatiable perusal, causing her to anxiously seize her chest. "Malfoy, this is truly unbelievable," she said, craning her neck up in awe while her eyes traversed the masses of books far beyond her reach. "I can't believe you grew up here."
"Believe me, it loses its novelty after a while," he quipped indifferently. "When these are the only walls you see for the first 10 years of your life, they tend not to hold the same fascination."
"I can't imagine that could ever be the case." Her fingers continued to strum with appreciation across each enduring spine as she absently strolled through the aisles.
"You can ask my governess. She spent half of her time casing the Manor grounds to find me after I had abandoned my schoolwork. She'd always drag me back to that table over there." He pointed across the room, indicating the broad wooden table that occupied the space in front of floor-to-ceiling windows. "The windows made it slightly more tolerable, but regardless, this was certainly not a place where as a child I would willingly choose to come on any given day." He chuckled remembering his juvenile shenanigans. "Here, have a look." He put his hand on the small of her back and led her over to the windows overlooking the courtyard.
They stood side by side gazing out onto the massive estate, Hermione unable to keep herself from gaping at the sprawling acreage lined with meticulously manicured shrubbery which wend in carefully crafted paths around a courtyard, a magnificent marble fountain crowning its center. If she narrowed her eyes, she could see three white peacocks capering near the edge of the gardens. "I don't even know what to say, Malfoy. It's stunning."
He half-shrugged. "Well, it's home."
It was apparent he had grown immune to the grandeur of his surroundings, a rather unfortunate effect of growing up among perennial affluence. "It's been rather quiet since my parents moved away," he added tangentially.
"Do you see them often?"
"Not often." He inclined his head, eyes concentrating on a peacock that had cantered closer to the lawn. "They've settled quite well into their new life...haven't been back to the Manor since they left for Saint-Jean-de-Luz. As you can imagine, they don't exactly get a welcome reception here in wizarding Britain."
"So you go there then? To visit, that is." The banal question rolled off her tongue, deftly avoiding the uncomfortable admission that his parents were social pariahs in their home country.
"Either that or we speak by Floo...more so with my mother rather than my father. Shockingly, he's taken up gardening which occupies quite a bit of his time." He chuckled under his breath. "Bit of a ridiculous hobby, really. But it seems to make him happy. And it keeps him out of trouble."
She had a hard time envisioning the once right-hand-man to Voldemort, Death Eater extraordinaire Lucius Malfoy, tending to wild cabbage, but she supposed the war had changed everybody, Lucius included. Well, not everyone, she thought as she remembered the wizard standing next to her. Although, the fact that they had managed to hold a fairly civil conversation, by their standards anyway, without hexing each other, was a welcome improvement to earlier. Maybe there was hope for him after all.
She nodded, eyes once again sweeping the grounds and finally sidling up to meet his. "Well, thank you for the tour. I suppose I should get going...I need to return home to begin my research." She drew a long breath and turned to leave.
With lightning-fast seeker reflexes, an arm dashed out in front of her path, halting her progress. Once again, he found himself close enough to count her freckles and made a mental note to cease the obnoxious habit. "Before you leave, why don't you see if there are any books here that may be useful."
"Oh, right. Yes," she said, chancing a glance back in his direction. "I'd love to have a look."
"Here," he said abruptly, once again leading her by the small of her back over to a credenza, where he gingerly unfurled her beaded bag from around her shoulders and placed it on the table. "Follow me." He strolled over to the wide-open space the Persian rug afforded and stood expectantly, waiting for her to catch up.
When she landed at his side, he pulled his wand from his trousers and looked over at her with a wry grin. "Watch." He glanced up fixedly at the imposing rows of bookshelves. With a spiral swish of his wand, followed by a languid flourish, several ancient tomes sailed from their positions and descended in an orderly fashion onto the long table lining the windows.
He flashed her a broad smile. "Those are the ones I will need to conduct my research on the crest. Now you try." He grabbed her by the shoulders and brusquely maneuvered her directly in front of him. They were suddenly so close she could feel the heat from his chest radiating against her back, which had the unfortunate effect of causing her to fumble into her pocket for her wand before holding it up, angling it toward the stacks in much the same way he had.
He reached forward, grabbing her arm with his outstretched hand to hold it steady. "Now, I will help you with the movements, but you will need to think of what it is you're seeking. Tell me when you're ready." Her mind instantly became a muddled mess of erratic heartbeats and sweaty palms as her face suddenly flushed with his close proximity. She inwardly cringed at her disconcerting reaction to the obnoxious prat, deciding right then and there that she really needed to make an effort to get out more often.
Valiantly trying to center her thoughts on the list of herbs Harry had provided her earlier, she muttered a breathy, "Ready."
He moved her arm in the same smooth swish and flourish manner he had just moments prior. With the final stroke, a torrent of reading material unfurled themselves from their residence among the soaring shelves and gracefully landed next to his on the long, wooden table. With a curt nod, he absently retreated from the summoning task to stride over to where the pile now lay.
The unexpected lack of warmth caused her to shiver, leaving her feeling oddly exposed in his absence.
"I'd bet some of these haven't been touched for centuries," she heard him call from across the room. He blew a thin layer of dust off the one in his hands, thumbing through the pages as she gradually made her way over to the table. He paused, glancing at a page illustrated with an assortment of unusual herbs. "Why the need for herbology journals?"
"Oh, Harry gave me a list of the ingredients MacNair ordered from Capacious Cauldrons. Here." She withdrew the parchment from her pocket and handed it to him. "I haven't had a chance to look it over yet, but I figured I may as well get a head start seeing as you've so generously offered up your library." She offered him a thin smile in thanks. "Although..." She wordlessly summoned her beaded bag from the credenza across the room. "I probably have enough reading material in here to occupy myself for at least the next three weeks." She chuckled hesitantly, giving her bag a hearty pat.
"Extension charm?" he asked, raising a dubious eyebrow.
Her grin grew wider but she offered up nothing more than an innocent shrug.
"You know that's illegal, Granger," he said smirking. "I'm beginning to think you should have been sorted into Slytherin."
"Harry, Ron, and I didn't survive for months in the wild on our good looks alone," she teased, fidgeting with the strap of her bag.
"At least Weasley and Potter didn't," he remarked flippantly, realizing the woeful flattery only after the regrettable words had left his mouth.
Her face blushed crimson as he busied himself by hastily looking away and rifling through the stack of books on the table.
"Here. Have a look at this one." He handed her an ancient tome, bound in ruby-red leather and embossed in gold script lettering. "Probably one of my least favorites growing up. History of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Horribly laborious reading. I can't count the times I fell asleep with my head against these pages." He chuckled heartily, wondering if the marked diversion worked to distract her attention from his rather unfortunate blunder.
It wasn't as if he was even cognizant of his observation before the traitorous words had escaped his mouth. Now that he thought about it though, he was sure most wizards would agree she was attractive on the simplest of levels. Certainly not like the Pureblood heiresses he'd grown up with, who enhanced their rather abysmal appearance with layers of makeup and high-end fashion designs. Her appeal was plain and effortless. That's not to say she was appealing to him, however. Draco had a propensity for beautiful things, no doubt. But, it would be a stretch to say her appearance was alluring to him in any way. Their tumultuous history simply wouldn't allow it, nor would her detestably swotty personality.
"I can see what you mean." She paged gently through the antiquated layers. "I suppose you had to memorize these details word for word. Part of your required Pureblood curriculum..."
"You're not that far off. It absolutely was required reading. And we were mercilessly tested on it. Needed to know our family's heritage backwards, forwards, and even sideways." He chuckled to himself at the absurdity of it all. "Here, let me show you the material on the Malfoy lineage." He reached over to retrieve the massive volume, gingerly placing it on the desk. They bent over to have a closer look as almost by memory, Draco flipped to the page that registered Malfoy at the very top. "Right there." He tapped a finger firmly against the page. "All you need to know about my family for the past thousand years is contained in these pages right here."
"I'll have to remember that next time I find myself inclined to do some light reading," she said fighting back a smile. "Although with this case, it's doubtful I'll know the meaning of free time for the foreseeable future." She sighed inwardly, glancing up toward the window, watching as the sun orchestrated its covert escape toward the horizon. "Speaking of which, I really should get going. It's growing quite late." She reached over to gather up the few books she'd summoned when not for the first time that evening, Draco stopped her.
"Granger, look." He ensured her eyes met his before he continued. "I still believe as I did before that we will have more success if we collaborate on the facts of this case together. So..." He trailed off. "What would you say to a re-do of sorts? We forget about what happened earlier. You could stay and do your research here at the Manor." He paused, searching her reluctant face. "You wouldn't even have to sit anywhere near me," he amended, gesturing around the expanse of the library at all the seating it afforded. "See, you can have your pick." He smirked earnestly, followed by another long pause. "So, what do you say?"
Hermione gnawed her bottom lip, a nervous habit she'd developed in her youth. While she leveled him with a thoughtful stare, she couldn't help but think back on their day together. It felt like an exhaustive trip out to sea where aggressive winds whipped her back and forth in a dizzying fashion. It was as if Draco struggled to decide exactly how to act around her, running the gamut from snide and cruel to somewhat pleasant and amiable. The question then became which version of him would she be getting if she decided to stay.
As she continued to look up at him, she saw only a trace sliver of her former tormentor staring back down at her. Objectively speaking, he had grown into a rather handsome wizard, filling in the pointed features of his youth with more mature angles. She probably would have noticed that fact much sooner had his loathsome personality not impaired her ability to do so. She hastened to declare fully that he was a changed man, as Harry had sworn earlier, but she was at least willing to consider that he was actively trying.
With her hands perched firmly on her hips, she squared her shoulders. "I will stay on a trial-basis only. If you should at any time resort back to your unbearable self, I reserve the right to Floo home."
His smirk widened into a grin at her ludicrous theatrics. "No, Granger, I'll not trap you here like you did to me in our office. You're free to leave at any time."
She rolled her eyes emphatically then jut out her chin. "Don't be ridiculous...I didn't trap you." She readjusted her beaded bag along her shoulder and pivoted to make her way around to the other side of the elongated workspace before methodically unpacking her belongings onto the table. When she looked up and saw Malfoy still standing where she'd left him, she huffed. "Well, are you coming or not?"
Seeing her invitation as a small victory in the battle that was Granger, he happily obliged the offer and settled into the seat directly across from her, pulling the Sacred Twenty Eight book closer and opening the inside cover. "Are you going to start with the potions ingredients then?"
"No, I've been a bit preoccupied with the notion of the flower that was stolen ever since I learned of it this afternoon. I'm going to have a look into the Ancient Egyptian legend I suspect is connected to the theft." She grabbed the Ancient Egyptian text and dragged it toward her. "How about you? Where are you going to start?"
Draco began thumbing through the pages of his book in a slow, deliberate manner, eyes scanning each page before glancing up and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I know I've seen that crest before, likely during one of my many lectures about ancient Pureblood history. It seems nearly every well-known family has a crest. Even if it doesn't belong to any of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, I'm going to start there to see if there are any similarities or clues as to its origin. I'll let you know if I find anything noteworthy." With that, he stared down, continuing his methodical examination of the book's contents.
They both fell into a companionable silence for the better part of an hour before Draco released a heavy sigh, loosely stretching his arms above his head and breaking them from their intense concentration. Peering up from her text, Hermione was simultaneously struck with the sight of Draco's bare torso creeping out from beneath his shirt as he leaned back, causing her face to flush as she looked anywhere but at the wizard sitting across from her.
"Fancy a short tea break?" he asked, coming down from his stretch and rising to stand. "I can summon Baron to bring us something from the kitchens, if you'd like."
She fumbled to place her cool hands on her warm cheeks before managing several discreet stretches of her own and rising to stand, shaking out her stiff limbs. "That would be lovely."
Turning away momentarily, Draco summoned Baron to inform him of their request.
"It should only be a moment before he returns. How is your research coming along?"
She slid back into her seat and exhaled a deep sigh. "Well, I was hoping to find something more than simply legend, some sort of confirmation of its use. But so far, I've learned nothing more than its name." She paused briefly. "Soleada," she said, slowly shifting the book across the table and pointing to its defining features. "I'm nearly certain now that this is the exact same flower that was stolen from Miriam's residence. Look at the distinguishing petals...they're just like the sun's rays, and exactly like the photo we saw today in the evidence room."
He casually scanned the page. "So what exactly is the legend saying?"
"Well, it's indicating that the Ancient Egyptians believed the Soleada flower could be used to attain immortality by using it to tether their lives to another living human. It's rather vague really, but it would seem they believed that by two people doing so, both would live as long as the other survived." She felt a negligible chill travel the length of her spine at the familiarity of her words.
"And we have no idea how they would do this?" he inquired, his brows furrowing. "Nor even if they ever accomplished it?"
"Because this was all so long ago...thousands of years ago," she clarified, "not much is known in the way of details. For the most part, it is all just speculation, legend passed down over the years. I guess it's up to us to decide how much of it is true." She shrugged indifferently, absently wrapping an errant curl around her finger. "I did read that the last time a Soleada flower was known to be in existence was around the end of the Ptolemaic Dynasty, right around the time Cleopatra ruled. Which is curious, to say the least, seeing as Miriam was in possession of one when she died." She gnawed her lower lip in contemplation.
Seeming to be mulling over the same information himself, Draco glanced back down at the page. "And that right there is the million Galleon question. What was Miriam doing with a thousands-year-old flower from Ancient Egypt?"
"And what does MacNair want with it? Or better yet, how did he even know Miriam had it?" Their eyes met briefly in thoughtful concentration.
With a loud pop, Baron arrived with their tea service, smoothly rolling the metal cart with their warm beverages over to settle next to Draco. "Your tea, Master Draco. For you and the missus." His orbed eyes turned to look over at Hermione fondly. "I's giving yous fresh-baked scones and jelly danishes in case yous hungry."
"That's lovely, Baron, thank you." Hermione blinked appreciatively.
"Tell Baron if yous be wanting anything more," he added, his lips pressed together in a smile.
"This is perfect. Thank you, Baron," Draco replied, as the house-elf bowed and vanished with a crack.
Draco moved to pour two cups of tea, while Hermione mindlessly tucked back into her reading. She hoped beyond hope to uncover any indication of how the Egyptians managed to utilize the Soleada's powers, or even if they did. After perusing several lengthy texts over the course of the past hour, she was rapidly losing hope that she'd discover anything new. She glanced up as Draco placed a cup of tea on a saucer next to her belongings, along with a small plate of pastries.
She smiled in appreciation. "Thank you. Would you mind passing me the creamer server and sugar bowl?"
When he did nothing to oblige her request, she glanced down, surprised to see her tea already prepared to her liking. "Oh!" she exclaimed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
His face remained stoic as he hastily stirred his tea, reaching for a scone and sinking back into his chair. "I already added your cream and sugar."
She moved to slide her pastry plate closer, attempting to busy her hands and pondering his unexpected gesture...the most surprising part being how he knew how she takes her tea. After years and years of friendship with Harry and Ron, she was certain they never once had taken notice.
Draco effortlessly read her contemplative face. "Don't hurt yourself overthinking, Granger. I saw you fix your tea this afternoon at lunch. It's not some obscure form of advanced legilimency. It's called observation."
She took a careful sip of the warm liquid, her eyes closing of their own accord as she silently hummed. "Mmmmm, that's incredible. It's exactly how I like it, thank you." When her eyes fluttered open, she was surprised to find him watching her, but his attention abruptly snapped back down to the parchment where he had been diligently taking notes, prompting her to reach over to pluck a scone from her plate. "Have you found anything noteworthy?"
He held up a finger as he chewed, jotting down one final note on his parchment before replying. "Not entirely. However, all this reading about the Sacred Twenty-Eight has me recalling a time when I was a boy, that my father told me an interesting story about how at a point not all that long ago we were known as the Sacred Twenty-Nine." He took a negligible sip of his tea, peering over the rim at Hermione, only to find her brows raised with intrigue.
"So, what happened? Who was the Twenty-Ninth and where are they now?"
"I barely recall the story, to be honest. I was just a child, after all." He placed the cup back onto the saucer and cocked his head. "All I know is that by my father's generation, and possibly even well before that, whomever it was was no longer on the list." He casually pat his mouth with the linen serviette before returning it to his lap. "That's not to even say it's related to this case," he added. "I only thought of it because I'm sure that family had a crest and it's one I'd like to see in order to fully rule it out." He began rubbing his temples in steady circles. "I just know I've seen that crest before and it's driving me spare that I can't think of where I've seen it. I'd of course like to ask my father about it, but seeing as that's against Ministry rules, I suppose I'll just have to dig a bit more myself." He leaned back listlessly in his chair.
Hermione appeared to be mulling over the information when she reasoned, "I mean, I don't see any harm in asking your father about the Sacred Twenty-Nine. Like you said, it may not even be related to the case." She offered an impartial shrug, quietly taking another sip of her tea.
"I don't need Potter hunting me down to hex my bollocks off," he said, his eyes flickering with amusement. "But if you agree that it wouldn't be against protocol, I can mention something to him when I see him tomorrow."
Hermione blinked with confusion. "Tomorrow. What's tomorrow?"
"I'll be seeing my parents tomorrow when I Portkey to France," he said, arms crossing tightly in front of his chest.
"Didn't you just get done telling me you hardly ever see them?"
He absently fiddled with his signet ring, spinning it in circles around his finger. "It's a business meeting of sorts," he replied vaguely, reaching around to rub the back of his neck.
Hermione eyed him with open skepticism. "I see. Well, I suppose it may be worth looking into. See if he has anything to add. As you said, it could be nothing, but may be worth the effort to rule it out." She shrugged, squinting narrowly at him.
"I'll see what I can find out," he added blankly before returning to his research.
Hermione noted the rather peculiar change in his demeanor but opted not to pry.
Another hour passed in amiable silence until it was suddenly broken when Hermione shrieked, "Draco! Look! I think I found a brooch like the one that was left at Miriam's!" She flew out of her chair and leaned across the table, tapping furiously at the opened page. Swinging it around for him to have a better angle, she cried once again, "Look!"
"For fuck's sake, Granger! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" He clutched gruffly at his chest before forcefully sliding his chair away from the table. Brow furrowed, his eyes locked on hers in a heated gaze. "And since when do you refer to me by my given name?"
Willfully ignoring his caustic outburst, she continued with intensified energy, "Would you stop brooding! Here, have a look!" She tapped rhythmically on the proffered page. "I think this could be something!" When his eyes didn't move from hers, she let out an aggravated huff. "Fine, stay mad that I startled you." She moved to retreat to her chair, sliding the book back in her direction, when swift reflexes advanced to stop her. She glanced down as Draco's hand grasped hers.
"Are you always this temperamental?" he chided, inching the book back into his clutches.
She rolled her eyes, opening her mouth indignantly, but Draco cut her off. "How in the name of Merlin did you find this?" He sat up stiffly, raking a hand through his tousled hair as he eyed the familiar item blazoned across the page.
"Well, as you know, Egyptian history is tightly woven with that of the Greeks and Romans," she began, eyes alight again with enthusiasm. "Finding nothing useful on the Soleada in my research of the Egyptians, I decided to look further by examining the chapters where the Romans make an appearance." As she spoke, she became even swottier than Draco ever could have imagined. "That's when I discovered this." She gestured to the page open before him. "It's called a fibula and it's very much like a pin one would wear today, only, in this case, it was worn by the Romans to fasten their outer garments. Look at how ornate it is. It's almost identical to the one in the evidence room!" Nearly out of breath, she blew a frizzy lock of hair out of her face and watched intently for his delighted reaction.
"You seem to be solving all of the mysteries tonight, don't you?" he drawled flatly, handing the book back to her with marked disinterest. "I see now first-hand why they call you the Brightest Witch of Our Age. Great job, Granger." He clapped his hands methodically slow in false applause before abruptly returning his attention to his research. "Now if you can riddle me the reason why both of those items were in Strout's place of residency the night she was murdered, I'll be really impressed."
She stared at him dumbfounded, bitter loathing twisting her face into daggers. "You can't be serious, Malfoy." She shook her head in outrage, yanking the book across the table. "Between the two of us, I seem to be the only one making any progress here. And you have the audacity to be so unapologetically glib about my discovery?" With rising indignation, she sprang to her feet. "Yet again, it seems like you can't make it one hour without being an utter arse!" She began hastily gathering up her belongings and shoving them forcefully into her beaded bag, muttering a copying spell as she collected Harry's ingredients list and tossing the duplicate across to Malfoy, along with half the potions books.
Furiously surveying the table for any items left behind, she threw her beaded bag over her shoulder and gruffly announced her departure. "Goodnight, Malfoy. Try to find something useful out before Monday."
As she rounded the corner into the hallway she glanced back briefly, only to see Malfoy's head still buried in his book, seemingly unaffected by her angry outburst and spontaneous departure.
Several moments later, the receiving room's Floo roared to life, confirming her exit.
Only then did Malfoy look up, staring impassively at the empty seat across from him.
