Hermione arrived at the Ministry the following morning early as usual. Striding into her office, beaded bag slung across her chest and a perfectly-tempered cup of coffee in hand, she was eager to start the day. With the revelations they had made over the weekend, she was rather anxious to pay a follow-up visit to Miriam's house that afternoon.
She glided through her office door and sidled smoothly up to her desk, setting her coffee down in its usual spot alongside her memos and placing her charmed bag within her desk drawer. Just as she was about to drop into her seat, she heard a muffled throat-clearing from across the room that caused her to cry out.
"Theo!" she yelped, stumbling to regain her footing. "How in Merlin's name did you get in here?"
After finally managing to right herself, she marched over to where he was stretched out in Draco's office chair aimlessly twirling a quill and seemingly undisturbed by her rather boisterous outcry. "You scared me half to death!"
He looked up with a calm and devious smirk. "Good morning to you too, Granger," he said, dropping the quill and pushing his chair out to stand.
The loud scraping noise caused her face to twitch. "You better have a very good reason for being here, Nott."
He drifted with an unhurried air of antagonism over to the other side of the desk, stopping only when he was mere centimeters from where she stood, his disarming eyes raking over her tense form. "Draco was right. You are a capricious little witch."
Before she even had a chance to form a fitting reply, he clasped both hands behind his back, putting one brazen foot in front of the other to begin his artful perusal of her office.
Without preamble, she reached for her wand, darting forward to halt his advancement. "Watch it, Nott. I'm not above hexing you clear into tomorrow."
"Woah now, easy Granger! Don't bite the messenger," he said, throwing up his hands as his mouth curved into a calculating grin.
Her eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. "What is that supposed to mean?"
His sly smirk widened. "It means I've come here to deliver a message from Draco, so don't get your knickers in a twist."
"And why would he need you to deliver a message?" she scoffed. "That's what we have owl post for."
He absently tapped his chin while glancing up at the ceiling, pretending to be deep in thought. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you had another one of your little lover's quarrels and he's a brooding mess." He shrugged innocently. "Oh, yeah...and it's much more fun seeing you riled up in person than it is sending a boring old owl."
Her jaw tightened as she folded her arms across her chest. "So he told you what happened on Saturday night then I take it?"
He chuckled in a low timbre, his face twisting with pleasure at her burgeoning frustration. "He didn't have to. I've known Draco since he's been in nappies. I know when he's having lady problems."
"Oh, would you stop!" She blew out a forceful huff and rolled her eyes. "You have a rather sick and deluded way of entertaining yourself. Please tell me you came here for more reason than to get a rise out of me." She whirled on the spot, leaving him standing there as she made her way back to her desk.
He held out his arms, reluctantly following her over to the other side of the room. "Ok, ok, you got me. Draco didn't send me," he mumbled, absently plucking a piece of lint from his sleeve. He looked up to find a renewed wrath had invaded her eyes as she clenched and unclenched her fists.
"If Draco didn't send you, then why are you here?" she grit out, her face reddening.
He dropped inelegantly into the chair across from her desk, gesturing for her to have a seat.
With rising agitation, she managed to inch back over to her chair, smoothing her skirt with a forced calm as she settled in across from him.
"I'd feel a whole lot better about having this conversation if your wand hand didn't look so trigger-happy." His narrowed eyes locked on where her hand remained covertly gripped at her side.
She calmly folded her hands together on the desk, drawing in a long breath and addressing him with lethal restraint. "Please enlighten me as to why you felt compelled to show up to my office at the crack of dawn to discuss my miserable, ill-tempered coworker." Her eyes churned with displeasure as she sat glowering, awaiting his response.
"You really can be terrifying when you want to be, you know that, Granger?" He snorted as he leaned back in his chair, taking in the frightening sight of the fiery witch. "I can see now why Draco said the past three days have felt more like three years." His mouth twitched as he leaned forward, plucking a sugar quill from a cup on her desk and lazily sucking the tip.
She bristled. "He said what?"
He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, you know Draco. He has a disturbing flair for theatrics. Don't take it personally."
"Actually, no. I don't know Draco," she said, exerting unnecessary force enunciating his name. "And don't lose sleep thinking I take even a knut of what he says or does personally. I only tolerate him because I have no choice in the matter."
He sighed wistfully, continuing to sweep his tongue across the pilfered confection. "Regardless, I know you may think Draco is all tantalizing sharp angles and alluring muscular façade...but I can vouch that beneath his enticing frame, there are many more intricate layers." He shrugged indifferently while inspecting his cuticles. "All I'm saying is that he's more than just his devastatingly good looks."
She pinched the bridge of her nose for several prolonged moments, uselessly fighting back amusement as muted laughter eventually overtook her. "You can't be serious," she finally managed, shaking her head in disbelief as her hand covered her mouth to stifle any unwanted outbursts. But what began as a quiet tittering graduated into a full-blown guffaw, her body shaking as her self-restraint crumbled. Swiping free-flowing tears from her eyes, she attempted to speak, but her words came out in a breathless muffle.
"I'm sorry," she heaved, barely able to hold it together. "You came all the way down here to tell me-" She snorted unexpectedly, head tilting back with a clamorous howl.
"Sorry," she wheezed again, waving her hand back and forth, trying and failing to regain her composure.
"Am I correct to understand that you came all the way down here just to tell me how irresistible Malfoy is?" She struggled to hold back more laughter as her eyes, blurred from tears, landed on Theo, who watched her with unaffected stoicism.
He shrugged stiffly, taking another lick of his quill. "Your words, not mine. I just thought you could use the heads-up that you might want to take it easy on him when you see him today. He'll probably be a bit more broody than you're used to."
She immediately sobered. "More broody? Are you telling me he gets more broody than the unbearably intolerable levels I've experienced thus far? If so, I find that very hard to believe."
He gave another half-shrug, dolefully staring out the charmed windows lining the back of Granger's office. "Like I said before...there are a lot of things about Draco you don't know."
A long pause blanketed the room before Hermione reluctantly broke the silence. "This feels very much like I'm being lured into a trap, but okay...I'll bite. What exactly do I not know about Draco?"
He blinked, pressing his lips firmly together. "He's just going through some things," he began vaguely, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. His guarded eyes swept across the surface of her cluttered desk. "Safe to assume you haven't seen the Daily Prophet yet this morning?"
She shook her head, brows knitting as she casually rifled through the top several memos where the day's paper usually lay. Seeing her come up empty-handed, Theo reached his hand into the front pocket of his robes and plucked out his copy, tossing it onto her desk. When she looked up bewildered, he quipped, "Page six."
She begrudgingly flipped through the first few pages until she landed on the Society page, eyes catching on a striking headline emblazoned across its length..."Malfoy Heir Matrimony...A French Fairytale," accompanied by a rather amorous photograph of Malfoy and a stunning Parisian brunette dining on the coastal promenade. The breeze fanning from the ocean tousled the woman's pin-straight hair ever so slightly as she simpered into the moonlight. Observing her over the rim of his champagne flute, Malfoy's mouth curved into a smile.
Hermione watched the moving photograph replay itself over and over again until she finally set it down on her desk with apparent disinterest, never having bothered to read the accompanying article.
With notable indifference, she shrugged. "How is this any different from every other week this worthless rag prints this ridiculous tripe to sell more papers?"
Theo's leg crossed at the knee as he bounced a frenetic rhythm with his foot. "Maybe because for once the papers got it right," he supplied, eyes hardening. He began twirling the sugar quill restlessly in his hand. "And let's just say Malfoy is in way over his head this time. He's been taking meetings with a long-line of Pureblood witches, just to appease his parents. But this one has gone a little too far." His eyes flickered with a hint of alarm. "His parents are in talks with the witch's family to arrange a contract for their upcoming nuptials. So as you can imagine, our man Draco is in a bit of a right state right now."
Her brows knit together. "So wait, you're telling me that the Malfoys have discarded all their former Pureblood prejudices, but still subscribe to the outdated notion that their son be bound to an arranged marriage?" The words sounded even more incredulous to her as they reached her ears.
"That's pretty much the crux of it, yeah."
Her face went blank as she absorbed the revelation, numerous thoughts immediately flooding her overactive brain, most pressing being why Malfoy would ever agree to such an archaic practice. From her very limited knowledge of him, he didn't seem the type to simply roll over and concede. And with all the efforts put forth to rehabilitate the Malfoy name following the war, it was counterintuitive he'd allow one of the most antiquated customs imaginable to be so brazenly thrust upon him.
Theo watched as her internal cogs twisted and turned. "The shackles that bind a Pureblood like Draco are unyielding," he sighed. "I've known Draco my whole life and it's always been so bloody hard to watch him suffocate under the burden of his family name. Especially when he tries so fucking hard to break free." His woeful eyes revealed a scant hint of the vast depth of their friendship.
Hermione felt something akin to a lump in her throat as she observed the pained expression on his face. She may not like Malfoy, but she did have an appreciation for the unwavering friendship he and Theo shared, causing her to tread lightly on the current topic. "Is there really nothing that can be done about it? I mean, has he tried talking to his parents?"
Theo chuckled to himself, the sound void of any humor. "One doesn't just simply talk to the Malfoys. There's always been a certain expectation when it comes to Draco...and it invariably hinges on the acquisition of a proper wife. It's never been questioned because it's an unspoken obligation of any Pureblood offspring. People don't think it's a thing anymore because we just don't talk about it like we used to. But I can assure you, arranged marriages are very much alive and well in aristocratic circles."
"Why then are you not being auctioned off to the highest bidder?" she asked. "Your family is one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, are they not?"
He sat comically upright in his seat, batting his hand. "My parents have both kicked the bucket, Granger. There's no one breathing down my neck to follow any Pureblood ideals." He sighed. "With so much riding on Draco's family's redemption...believe me, he has it way worse than anyone I know."
"I see." Her words seemed highly inadequate, but she couldn't think of anything more encouraging to offer, considering her knowledge of longstanding Pureblood customs was paltry at best.
Taking one last lick and popping his half-eaten sugar quill back into the cup on Granger's desk, he wiped his hands along the length of his pants and rose to stand. "I know Malfoy can be a right tosser sometimes...there's no one alive that would deny that." He peered down at her with a wan smile. "But, I just thought if you knew a little bit of what he's facing every day...you know, outside of the office...that maybe the next time he lashes out...I don't know-" He shrugged, trailing off.
She nodded. "I appreciate the heads-up." Even if at that moment she didn't know exactly what she would do with the information, she could appreciate the wizard's honest attempt to intervene on his friend's behalf. With an audible scrape, she stood from her seat, making her way across to the other side of her desk. "Malfoy's lucky to have you, you know that?" she said, looking up at him through long, dark lashes.
He laughed heartily, dropping an indolent arm over her shoulders. "That's what I keep telling him," he said, shuffling them sidelong toward the exit.
But before they reached the threshold, a firm knock rang out from the partially-ajar door as Harry and Ron lumbered through.
"'Mione?" Harry called out as the door swung open. "Oh, Nott! Good, you're here too!"
Nott's arm dropped from Hermione's shoulder as he inched forward. "What is it, Potter? You need me to Avada someone for you?"
Potter exhaled a chuckle. "Nah, Nott...nothing that savage, sorry. I just got a memo from Malfoy that he's coming in late this morning. Thought maybe when he gets here, the three of you could go over to the Strout residence together." He glanced sheepishly at Hermione. "I'm sure you and Malfoy would be fine going alone, I just thought sending a hit wizard along would offer some added protection...you know, just in case you run into something."
He stiffened, looking apprehensively from Hermione to Theo, then back to Hermione.
Hermione's mind stalled upon hearing Harry say he'd received a memo from Malfoy. It was clearly more logical that he should owl her to apprise of his tardiness, given they were partners. But apparently his childish antics were to spill over into the current week. Her jaw tensed at the blatant sidestep.
"'Mione? Is that alright with you?"
She looked up to see the three wizards staring at her expectantly.
"Yes, of course," she said, waving her hand. "Do you happen to know what time he'll be in? I planned to take the morning to set up the case board. If it's all the same to you, we can go when I finish."
Harry's lips pressed into a pensive line. "Sorry, no, he didn't say. But I'm sure it'll be fine that you go when you're through." He managed a wayward glance toward Theo. "Nott, why don't you come with Ron and me down to the Conference Room to strategize our stakeout?"
The corners of Theo's mouth turned up. "I'd love nothing more." Gripping Granger firmly by the shoulder, he added in a gruff voice, "I'll be back shortly. Don't forget what we talked about." With a wink only she could see, he swaggered out the door with Harry and Ron close at his heels.
Right before they rounded the corner, Ron's head dipped back inside with a lightened expression. "Hey, 'Mione...thanks for last night. And be careful today, ok?"
She smiled. "I will. You guys be careful too."
With a quick nod, Ron vanished from the threshold, scrambling to catch up with the others.
With her office finally draped in peace and tranquility for the first time that morning, she drew a breath and waded over to the long wall behind Malfoy's transfigured desk. Removing her wand from her holster, she brandished it with a flourish and flick, fashioning an oversized poster board much like the one in the evidence room. With each additional wave of her wand, details of the case manifested one-by-one adhering to the floating parchment.
She spent the next forty-five minutes immersed in contemplation, ordering the events, looking for anomalies and loopholes in her various theories. Muttering a quick sticking charm, she watched as segmented lines drew themselves, connecting each aspect of the case together.
Once she was satisfied with her results, she retreated to examine her work from a more reliable vantage point, stepping back several paces until her back unexpectedly collided with the impervious force of an unyielding mass. A muffled ooomph issued from Draco Malfoy's mouth when she stumbled, stiff arms wrapping around her waist to steady her floundering.
"Do you ever watch where you're going?" he grumbled hoarsely against her ear.
She swiveled around to face him, his towering frame causing her to crane her neck. For the first time, she noticed how much taller he was than her. "How long have you been standing there?" she asked, her heart suddenly pounding an erratic tattoo.
"Long enough to see some pretty impressive spell-work," he said, jutting out his chin toward the poster board hanging behind her.
"I was so focused, I must not have heard you come in." Her words came out as more of a breathless whisper, acutely aware that his hands still firmly held her waist.
He exhaled a throaty chuckle, taking a broad step back and sidestepping where they stood to glean a more intimate look at the case board. "I ran into Potter on the way up here and he said you made some progress yesterday." His finger traced a slow and deliberate trail across her notes.
"Oh, yes," she stammered, clearing her throat. "We have a few new theories after going over some of the research." She ambled over to his side, adjusting her blouse where it had ruffled from their brief entanglement. "You and I got a little side-tracked on Saturday night," she supplied awkwardly, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, "otherwise I would have told you that the autopsy reports revealed Miriam didn't die from the killing curse."
"I never thought she did," he replied, absently moving one of her affixed notecards over to the other side of the board.
Hermione's arms folded tightly across her chest. "If you never thought she did, then why didn't you say anything?"
"You always wait for the official findings, Granger," he answered matter-of-factly. "When you said the Soleada could be used to tether one's life to another, I immediately knew without it she was as good as dead."
He continued to reorganize her display, oblivious to her changing countenance.
She drummed her fingers on her arm. "If you have it all figured out, then you must know why the Lineage Liaison Department has no record of her birth, nor any history of relatives near or distant."
He looked down at her with knitted brows, mulling over the newly-acquired information. "The only thing I can think of at the moment is that she's likely not from our time period." He pointed up at the case board, hand following the segmented lines connecting the freshly-organized evidence pattern. "Look here. If our assumption is correct that the last Soleada known to be in existence was around 30 B.C., then we need to assume for hypothetical purposes that the Soleada stolen from Strout's residence is the one lost to history."
Hermione's eyebrows flew into her hairline. "A thousands-year-old flower?" she asked incredulously.
"It's actually not that far-fetched when you consider we have a thousands-year-old brooch sitting in the evidence room right now," he pointed out.
She nodded her head, seeming to consider his theory. "When you say it like that, it doesn't seem like such a leap to assume so."
"And if that's the case...there's another person with whom she tethered." He withdrew his wand and waved it with a flourish, conjuring a fresh notecard to add to the labyrinth. With a flick, the notecard fastened itself to the case board, uniting alongside that of Miriam Strout. "And I'm reasonably certain I know exactly where we'll find the answer as to who that was."
Hermione looked up at him questioningly.
"We're going to Egypt, Granger," he said like it was the most obvious assertion in the world.
"I'm sorry, what?" she croaked.
"We can't possibly expect to solve this case while cavorting around England. If all our evidence is pointing to Egypt, then that's where we follow."
"Don't you think we should first see what we find out after re-canvassing her residence this afternoon?" she asked, the notion of leaving the country with him leaving her clearly flustered.
"Re-canvassing her house is nothing more than Ministry formality. Whatever we may find out could supply us with additional clues, sure...but it will never crack the case open."
She sighed, inclining her head as he held her uncertain stare.
"Did you find anything out about the crest while you were in France?"
It was admittedly a shameless change of subject, but it was her only hope to deflect attention away from her continued floundering.
His shoulders dipped and she immediately regretted having reminded him of the strained visit with his parents.
He cleared his throat, looking away.
"Nothing immediately noteworthy. The story was just as I'd remembered...apart from the reason the family was axed from the Sacred list. Turns out they had no ties whatsoever to Great Britain." He half-shrugged at its insignificance. "It's a wonder how that little tidbit slipped through everyone's sights for as long as it did. At any rate, my father plans to search the libraries of our other Manor estates for the volume containing the records of the Sacred Twenty-Nine. It wasn't at our ancestral home in Saint-Jean-de-Luz," he clarified.
"Did he inquire as to why you were asking?"
"My family has a pretty standard don't-ask-don't-tell policy when it comes to these types of things." He made a noise that sounded remarkably like a laugh, but contained no humor. Seeing her befuddled expression, he added, "It's a matter of self-preservation. I wouldn't expect you to understand."
"What's up lovebirds?" a syrupy voice called out as Theo Nott trudged through the open doorway. "Did you two kiss and make up?"
Hermione stepped away from Draco, her cheeks flushing.
"Don't halt your little love fest on my account," he chided, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He drifted over to Draco's desk, dropping into his chair and stretching out, hands laced behind his head. "Please- carry on."
Hermione and Draco were galled by his shameless spectacle.
"Please tell me you have a purpose here, Nott," Draco drawled.
Eyes sweeping over to Hermione, Theo gasped, clutching a hand to his chest. "I'm offended! You didn't tell your boyfriend I'm coming with you this afternoon?"
She rolled her eyes, cheeks suffusing with heat. "Nott is going to be back-up for us today. Harry's idea, not mine."
"Of course it was," he snorted.
Theo sat up. "Look, I get it, three's a crowd. But should any of this crazy witch's plants spring to life and decide to strangle you in its clutches, believe me, you'll want me there." He shrugged indifferently, putting his feet up on the desk and reclining once again. "Unless," he glanced guilelessly from Draco to Hermione, tapping his finger on his lips, "you were hoping for a little alone time, in which case-"
"That's enough, Nott!" Draco snapped. He moved to swipe Theo's feet from the desk, causing them to land on the floor with a thud. "C'mon, Granger...let's get out of here." He grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her toward the door, not considering they'd yet to make their final preparations for the mission.
Theo stood up and ambled over to them before they reached the hallway. "We should at least stop by Potter's to be sure the wards are down before we go," he said. "And-" He gave Granger a once-over. "You may want to slip into something a little more comfortable. A pencil skirt is hardly combat attire."
Hermione huffed. "We're walking through an unoccupied property. I hardly think it's necessary. But now that you mention it..." She Accio'd her beaded bag from within her desk drawer, crossing it stiffly over her shoulder. "There. Now we're ready."
Theo shrugged. "Suit yourself."
She turned back to lock and ward her office as the two Slytherins made their way to the end of the hallway together en route to Harry's office. Seeming to reconsider Theo's suggestion, she glowered down and discreetly transfigured her office attire into slacks and a jumper before dashing away to meet up with her objectionable companions.
