Chapter 16: Puzzles and Secretaries

"And there is nothing more dangerous

in this world, in any world,

than someone calm, clear and angry."

~ Audrey Hart, The Dig

Lucius Malfoy's character was lacking, but the amount of galleons he held in his vault made up for his poor personality in society. Yes, he was rather charming at first sight; but the charm was an enchantment. Anyone who knew him closely was aware that he was nothing more than a replica of his dear father, Abraxias Malfoy. All the Malfoys were very much the same. As much as the Blacks were varied, the Malfoys were identical. Narcissa had the unfortunate luck of marrying one of their flaxen headed bastards. And so, she had learned from Lucius what Lucius had learned from Abraxias: galleons talked, and with affluence came power. Two decades of marriage to him had taught her that Lucius was a fine friend to have and a terrible enemy to fight; Lucius' galleons, and the connections he had gained through them were his offences in warfare. Accordingly, Narcissa had questioned if Lucius was likely accountable for Hermione's imprisonment. If so, how was it that he had found out about the destruction of the document? She had wondered.

Who had told him?

Someone close to Hermione at her workplace. Someone who had given her the document to look through and sign, but had never retrieved it.

Someone like a secretary.

Secretaries.

Narcissa's lips curled; she abhorred and pitied them. They adored Lucius, however, for they oftentimes adored galleons. Secretaries were usually poor wizards and witches with access to a wealthier and frequently more important individual's secrets. As such, they were easily bribed.

It had been some time since she had put her feet in the headquarters of the Ministry of Magic. Its pristine, marble floors and the portraits of sallow-eyed witches and wizards were a familiar and sorry sight to behold. She hated the place— the politics. Merlin knew how Hermione had withstood her job. Such a dreadful place to work in. Those before her instantly moved away from her. Thus, Narcissa moved forth unobstructed— heels tapping and all. She neared the information desk. A witch in her fifties sat there; this had been her job for most of her life. So, she took it seriously, naturally. Her life had been put into it. Presently, she was yelling at the younger worker by her side for not being efficient enough, a projection most likely of her bitterness towards what her life had amounted to. She wore a serious expression on her pudgy face.

"Excuse me," said Narcissa in her low and cool voice that was unmistakably hers, "perhaps if you weren't screaming, you would notice there is someone before you in need of your assistance."

The woman did not have to look at her to know it was her. The witch's eyes widened. "Ma'am!" she cried, and stood up. "Sorry." All her bravado waned in the blonde witch's presence.

Narcissa smiled at the young man. He blushed under her gaze. She felt sorry for underdogs; it was why she had stopped her fellow Slytherins from bullying Snape, and had presented his intellect as something that could prove to be of use to Lucius and his friends during her adolescence. "Now," she turned her attention back to the witch. "I am looking for someone. He or she most likely worked as a secretary for Ms. Hermione Granger. Or is it Weasley? Is her secretary still here?"

The woman gulped. "I'll let you know in a moment." The witch looked through some files and then nodded after a second. "Yes, she's here. Still working as a secretary for the interim minister of defence."

Narcissa nodded. Curious: "Who is the interim minister of defence?" she inquired.

"Mr. Ron Weasley," the trembling witch answered.

Ron Weasley? She cocked an elegant brow. "Thank you," she answered. As she turned around to head to her destination, she whispered Ron Weasley's name under her breath. If he had any dignity and pride, he would have refused the job for the love he once surely had for Hermione, but he hadn't. Why? Was he power hungry? No… A Weasley, power hungry? That was a ridiculous thought. But, first sights were deceptive, after all. An accomplished Legilimens, she had realized this through her life. Take Wormtail, for instance. A shy, nervous, and pitiable wreck. However, he too had wanted power. No one at first had realized that, of course. But, she had in her youth with her keen ability to perceive the inner depths of people; she had mentioned it to Bella passingly… and then Wormtail had been recruited. She wished she never had. So much would have been avoided.

Everything would have, really.

She entered the lift.

One utterance… and a boy's parents had died.

She internally shivered.

Why was she not imprisoned when she was more deserving of it? If she could trade shoes with Hermione, she would. A thousand times over. But, perhaps the gods had other means of torment in store for her… A life without her son. A life without... Hermione…

She had reached her destination. The bell in the lift rang. Her racing mind slowed, as she prepared herself for the forthcoming interrogation. She would unearth secrets. Something untoward was in the air; her intuition was never wrong. A Weasley working as a minister of defence. A disloyal secretary. And then, there was Lucius, who was surely taking part in all of this. He was always a key actor in such entanglements. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, determined to put the pieces of this puzzle together.

And she was rather good at completing puzzles. Sneaking past Ravenclaw's entrance during her formative years had been a breeze; she had stolen quite a few books from their library.

That was a misconduct she would never regret.

A young man passed by carrying coffee cups. "Where can I find the office of the minister of defence?" she asked him.

He stopped in his tracks and dithered, while she worried a cup would drop from his hands. The effect she had on others was such a nuisance; she hated it (but, of course, not all the time; it had its uses). Perhaps, a smile would calm his nerves. She showed him her pearly teeth. He stopped trembling under her gaze, and blushed instead. "Wasn't expecting to see you here. Sorry ma'am," he said in a small voice. "The office is right there," he continued, pointing at the end of the hall.

"Thank you," she replied.

Behind that door, the answers to her questions waited.

And once they were in her grasp, she could then perhaps find the means to free Hermione.

Narcissa pulled her fur coat tightly around herself and pressed her eyes shut for a moment. When they opened, they had turned into silver daggers. Ready, she marched like a queen towards the door with her frigid, cool eyes.

The secretary within the office, a ginger named Gertie, was sitting languidly by her desk, nearly asleep when suddenly her wrist was held within a slim, pale manicured hand. The hold around her wrist was strong. She yelped at the touch, as her eyes fluttered wide open. A beautiful, pale witch with burgundy lips, and platinum tresses was peering down at her. It did not take very long to realize who she was staring at.

"Mrs. Malfoy?" she asked. Her voice quivered.

"I prefer Black. And you?"

"Ge — Gertie," she stammered.

The hold against her wrist tightened. "Hello, Gertie," said Narcissa coolly, while smiling like a cheshire cat. "Did you speak to my estranged husband, Lucius about the document?"

"What? I don't know what you're—"

"Don't lie to me, girl," Narcissa hissed. The change in tones wreaked havoc on the girl's equanimity. She was a trembling mess. Grey eyes narrowed. "If you're lying, I shall find out." Narcissa removed her hand from the girl's wrist, and cupped her face with it, digging her crimson nails into the girl's skin. "Get up," she commanded. The secretary's lips quivered as she rose. "Tell me yourself or I shall peer into your mind, and your entire life will unfold before my eyes."

At this, Gertie gasped. "Mr. Weasley!" she cried for help.

"Don't waste your breath." Narcissa smirked. "I placed a silencing charm around us before I caught your attention, dove."

She gulped, succumbing. "Fine — I — I was promised I would be given galleons by Mr. Malfoy… your husband." She tried shaking her head, but Narcissa's grasp on her face was too strong for her to do so. "I didn't sleep with him. I promise I haven't." She sniffled and stammered, "Please — please don't look inside my mind."

She was lying, most likely. Narcissa crumpled her brows, whilst still cupping Gertie's lower face with fingers that Gertie felt were claws. "I don't care to hear of your sexual endeavours. Get to the point."

"He — he wanted to know if I had anything on Mrs. Weasley," she stammered. "I said yes - there was a document on an abortion that vanished." She frowned, sensing that her previous boss was most likely of some sentimental value to the witch before her; the rich and their affairs, she thought. "I — I'm sorry. Mrs. Weasley is a very, very kind lady-"

Such rubbish. Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Yet, not kind enough for you to refuse Lucius' offer, hmm?

The ginger secretary frowned. "I needed the galleons— I have a little boy who has a disability, and my ex, his father — he left us when he found out his son was disabled."

The coldness in Narcissa's gaze wavered for a split second.

"So, we — we don't have enough sometimes," Gertie continued. "My boy's disability requires money I can't afford without loans… and those goblins at Gringotts won't give me loans anymore… "

Narcissa sensed this was a truth, and let go of her face. Maternal instincts could not be overlooked (she blamed her condition. Damn these hormones!) "Then, why are you still working here if Lucius has given you galleons?" Why does it matter? Really, Cissy? There's no time for this. But, her traitorous heart had refused to listen to her intellect.

A tear escaped from the girl's eyes. "He didn't give me the money."

And he fucked you too. Narcissa sighed and removed a pouch holding galleons from the pocket of her fur jacket. Stupid girl. She held the pouch above the desk, and emptied its contents there. Gold galleons fell before the young secretary's eyes; Narcissa then took the liberty to grab a file from her desk. The girl watched the gold galleons, mesmerized; there were about a hundred of them sparkling on the desk. Meanwhile, Narcissa scribbled a name and an address of a connection on top of the document with a quill. "Don't ever trust my ex-husband… or upscale wizards who promise you galleons in return for sex or information. And that name — she's a friend of mine. She'll find you a better job."

The girl nodded; her hazel, guilt-ridden eyes were bright with gratefulness. "Oh, ma'am. Thank you. I'm sorry…really, I would have never slept with him if I— "

In no mood for accepting gratitude and hearing apologies, Narcissa interrupted, "Tell me now. Have Mr. Weasley and Lucius ever met?"

"Ye — yes, Ms. Black," she nodded again. "Once. I have no idea as to what they might have discussed."

So, her intuition had been correct. Ron Weasley was involved in whatever this was as well. But, why? Wouldn't he want his wife back? Narcissa found herself alarmed. A frown emitted on her delicate features. Had he not loved her adequately? Or, had he simply lost his senses?

She hoped the case was the latter. Hermione's heart would break if she were to discover her childhood friend was of sound mind whilst wishing to see her behind bars.

"Is Mr. Weasley here right now?" she inquired. Her voice had been full of contempt.

"Mr. Weasley? Yes, he should be."

Narcissa's burgundy lips pressed into a thin line. "Tell him he has a visitor," she said in dark tones to the girl. Gertie was about to rise and enter his office when Narcissa placed her hand on her shoulder. "On second thought," she smiled, "don't. I wish to surprise him."

And she certainly did surprise Ron Weasley, who was sitting with his legs crossed on one of the leather sofas in the large office that had belonged to Hermione two weeks ago. He was smoking from a pipe, a new habit he had acquired.

"I see you have made yourself quite comfortable," Ron heard a woman's voice. It was silken and cool like winter. "And ah, a pipe! Have you become fond of them through your association with my estranged husband, Lucius?"

He suddenly sat straight and looked at where the voice had ushered from. By the entrance, a blonde woman stood in a black gown and an emerald fur coat. His face reddened from fear. He quickly jumped to his feet and was attempting to flee: he was running towards the fireplace, and was about to use the Floo network when Narcissa removed her wand. His efforts died in vain, as he was jinxed with an immobulus charm. He immediately fell; his face was against the ground now, so he could not see his surroundings. He could hear, however, and he heard the sound of heels clacking grow near.

A heel soon pressed into his back. Narcissa was standing above him and was pushing his body with her foot, so he could roll over. Once successful, she lowered herself and sat on her knees. She peered down at his face and smirked. "Hello Mr. Weasley," she said. "Ron, is it? I apologize for my abrupt visitation. I would ask you how you're doing, but you can't answer me. So, I shall be reading your mind instead."

His eyes expanded. Narcissa gazed into them, and soon found herself in a strange, vague place of peace. Here, there was no anxiety, no fear. Nothing, really. His mind was almost… empty. Was he an accomplished Occulumens? No, that couldn't be. This particular Weasley did not seem remarkably intelligent. She searched further, but found nothing. He was thoughtless. But, how could that be…?

Perplexed, she removed herself from his mind and sat still for a moment. Her sharp brain mulled over the quandary.

Of, course…

She sighed and neared her face to his again. "You have been imperiused, haven't you?" she whispered while looking down at his eyes. Well, that had been useless— and cunning on Lucius' part. He chose to imperius Ron and not Harry, for the latter was possessed by a greater will and a brighter mind, so he could avoid its effects. And further, one couldn't peer into the head of a witch or wizard who was imperiused. She looked back down at the limp redhead beneath her."Try to fight it, Mr. Weasley," she told him. "You are in there somewhere."

His eyes sparkled; it was as if he had recalled himself, but the twinkle quickly vanished. She frowned. "I cannot notify anyone of your condition, as using Legilimency without a permit is illegal," she informed him. "I cannot risk being imprisoned presently... I hope you understand." She then lightly patted his chest, and said,"Goodbye, Mr. Weasley," before rising.

Narcissa had collected all the information she could. As she made her way towards the door of the office, she removed leather gloves from the pockets of her fur coat. While putting them on, she thought of Lucius. How she wished to suffocate him with her very own hands, to see life ebb away from his eyes…

It was time to visit the sly scoundrel.

Author's Note:

Not sure if I'll be updating until the end of December due to exams, so I decided to post what I had written so far. Hope you enjoyed it. Do tell me me what you think! :)

Edit: Fixed some grammatical errors and typos. Sorry about that!