Chapter 5
Hermione analyzed the jacket for any trace or clue to his identity. Surely that’s what he wanted, right? A game to play with her? Maybe he didn’t realize she was not only the most clever, but also the most well-versed witch of her age. During school break growing up, her parents had always watched crime drama shows in the evenings. Hermione would often sit in the same room while reading her new textbooks for the upcoming year, half paying attention to the telly and half to her books. Both drew her in equally, except she knew she would have her books to read at any time and television was a foreign concept to the wizarding world. She picked up a lot of brilliant ways to investigate things and to thoroughly notice something. Maybe she would have become an investigative detective if she hadn’t been a witch, but she was going to put those summers of absorbing crime dramas to use.
Fabric, cut, and style would be the obvious first clue. It was an unfamiliar French maker, high quality velvet with impeccable stitching, and based on last night’s observations it was tailor made.The thought of Malfoy popped in her mind, but she swatted it away. It was lined with an almost iridescent silver silk - another mark of money - and so anyone who could afford to easily part with this, let alone afford it, would be rich. Another Slytherin prat? She was trying to widen her horizons, but the thought she was wooed by a Slytherin as a general statement made her whole body limp with distaste.
Next she honed in on the details. Unfortunately for her, she had worn the jacket for most of the night and found more hair from herself and Crookshanks on it than anything else. Still, she examined the inside for hints of any unfamiliar fibers or hairs: There wasn’t a single hair out of place, so to speak. She was growing frustrated with not being able to find a single shred of evidence and thus not actually getting to shine her untested detective skills for the first time in her life. As a last - and unprofessional - resort, she thrust the beautiful jacket in her face, inhaling deeply. She could smell the familiarity of herself, but also a faint something else. Excitedly, she sniffed all around and wracked her brain with what her nose was picking up.
Think think think!, she urged her brain. Think of the time mum and I went to the perfume shop in Paris... true, she didn’t log all the details due to not understanding exactly what the lady had been saying, but her mind was there now. A hint of spice mixed with musk, right? But there’s something else... something almost sweet but woody... cedar wood or sandalwood? Tough to say, but there’s a sharpness - that’s the ginger - and musk, which is probably amber or tonka bean. Maybe both?I don’t even know if I’m getting these scents right. She was pretty sure she was wrong with the exact labeling of scents with their names, but she picked up the gist of what she was smelling for now. And when she went back to work, she was determined to sniff him out.
***
Monday morning couldn’t come fast enough. Hermione normally rushed along to her office from the floo, but today she lingered and took in all the wizards around her. Her senses were on full alert. She was looking for a younger, fit wizard who was about a head taller than her; well kept; moved gracefully (or at least intentionally); great posture; and probably wore good quality robes. Then, her grand plan was to get close enough to said wizard to see if he smelled like the jacket she had hanging in her room. She walked as slowly as she could without getting jostled and scoffed at by those rushing to work, but the issue was that she couldn’t easily make out a person’s age and body type because of the bulky robes everyone had on. Great idea, Hermione. She needed to see everyone from the front - so what if she just waited by the elevators and just people watched? I hope I won't draw attention to myself, but I can’t forget that I’m “Hermione Granger” and even through the rushing, people will notice me. She sighed loudly as she carried on with the flow of the crowd towards the elevator, pausing to rummage in her bag and see if she actually could go unnoticed. She lasted about 20 seconds before someone from her old department stopped and started chatting with her. This wasn’t going well.
Ruffled but determined, Hermione made her way up to her office to get started on the day. Her eyes were peeled at every corner as she greeted people she passed. Nobody hopeful, yet. She idly wondered if Malfoy could help point her in the right direction, while completely repressing the obvious thought on her mind. She had to be in work mode now, and wouldn’t have the weekend destroying her focus if she could help it. She really hoped she could.
“Oh, hello,” Hermione said with a sincere surprise in her tone. “Ready and eager this morning, are we?” she replied offhandedly and suddenly slightly out of breath. He was never the first one to the boardroom Monday mornings.
“I’m glad to see you’re on time as well, Granger. I trust you had a good weekend?” Malfoy replied, matching her tone. Suddenly Hermione’s heart jumped into her throat and the masked man jumped before her eyes.
“I - yes, it was wonderful,” she inhaled to steady herself. “You threw a wonderful party, so thank you for inviting me.” She looked up at Malfoy with a genuine smile on her face and tried to read and smirk or spark that befell his face; anything that would be a tell of a knowing.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. All of my guests seemed to be having a good time, so what more can a host ask for?” he mirrored her genuine smile, still relaxed and at ease with the conversation.
“Yes, of course. You probably know it was the first one of its kind I went to, so I’m glad it was a positive experience,” she layered on, begging him to take the bait and indulge her need for knowledge.
“And one you heavily researched beforehand, no doubt,” he took a sip of his herbal brew, “I’m glad I could offer you a positive memory from Malfoy Manor, at least.” Hermione was lost as he stared directly into her eyes with his quiet statement. If she had been looking for something, she had found it: the heart of Malfoy shining for her, apologizing and offering her a chance to heal from one of the most painful moments of her life if she was only courageous enough to go for it. And she was. Now she was left with a memory she treasured so dearly, and Malfoy would never know what that was worth to her.
Stunned, Hermione did her best to reply meekly, “I maybe want to alter my previous statement and say that it was on par with the Yule Ball in 4th year.”
“Oh, if I’m getting compared to school balls then I definitely need to up my game. Should I invite cherubs and dragons next year?” Malfoy egged her on.
“No, really, that’s not what I meant. It was brilliant, honest! I just mean that the Yule Ball was probably the best night of my life,” she spilled out. She averted her eyes from his as soon as she realized what she had admitted to him.
“You - you really think so?” Malfoy appeared flabbergasted. “Please, give me every detail so I can make sure I do the same again! I’m sure you wouldn’t mind creating an extensive list in your off time?” She really couldn’t tell how sincere he was being, but forged ahead anyway.
“Ah...” Hermione didn’t know how to delicately paint the picture for him, but she would try. “The architecture and decorations were stunning, don’t get me wrong. There were loads of details I loved, and I could certainly make a list if you’d really like that, but I think it was more so the people you invited that made the night for me. You know?”
Malfoy had a closed expression as he stated, “I see.”
Awkward silence fell between them as Hermione wondered if he was going to add anything further, or if she should fill the empty space with covering her tracks. She was so tempted to keep going over the details, or make a sarcastic rebuttal, but something new stayed her tongue and she wanted to allow him the space to express, if he was going to.
He didn’t.
Malfoy was looking off in the distance pensively while holding his cuppa, so Hermione looked down at the table splayed with notes, and started on their subject for the week. At least there were no awkward silences in the neutral territory of work.
***
Hermione was admittedly not on her A-game, and was fighting her own mind for clarity and focus. They sat together for about 2 hours before Hermione made a lame excuse that she hadn’t eaten breakfast and wanted to break for lunch. Malfoy didn’t seem bothered either way, and so they packed up simultaneously and headed out. They walked along either side of the long table and reached the tall doors at the same time, but Malfoy reached to open them first. Hermione shuffled in directly behind him as he swung both doors open at once while taking a step back. Suddenly Malfoy was mere inches from her, and she panicked at their proximity for an instant before her intentional habit of remembering to breathe kicked in.
Then it hit her.
Like gale force winds blowing open a door, Malfoy’s scent descended upon her and sent her body and mind into a hazy state of shock. The same mix of musk and spice and Merlin knows whatever else filled her being, and for a moment she languored in the excitement of success mingled with memory.
...Then reality came back to her with a sharp second inhale. He is Malfoy. HE IS MALFOY. HE. IS. MALFOY. Oh no, no no...
“Are you coming Granger?” Malfoy looked quizzically back at her, who had not moved since he walked through the doors.
“Oh, I - uh, sorry, I just remembered something. Sorry, see you later,” she trailed off as she rushed towards her office. She didn’t know what to focus on: what a confused Malfoy must be thinking of her right now, or IT WAS FUCKING MALFOY.
But it didn’t have to be, right? What if someone else smelled like him, or she hadn’t remembered the smell properly, or it was wishful smelling (surely that was a thing)? She slammed her door shut, and now within the safety of her office she could let her mind reel. She went over every account; every interaction from that night now blatantly screamed Malfoy. She had just stood behind him, her eyes matching the height of his collar. He had easily opened the heavy doors (that nobody had ever seemed to enchant to make lighter, she mentally added). He was strong. He was tall. He was lithe. She had caught herself watching his hands on more than one occasion. Now she knew how he kissed, what he felt like under his clothes, and how he would hold her, and she didn’t know what to do with herself. Was she in a cruel nightmare or waking dream?
But what if it wasn’t him? Who was she kidding - who else could it be? Her secret hope and fear had come true. She sat while her emotions flooded in, thrashing torrents within her body. She let herself feel the conflict until it started to make sense in her mind. And what made sense right now was getting information from Malfoy as surreptitiously as possible. How did he feel? What was his experience? Did he know it was her? The last question would be a dead giveaway, and she wasn’t even close to ready for that confrontation yet. She needed info, and validation that she wasn’t going crazy...
Slowly breathe in, hold for 3 seconds, breathe out. Repeat 10 times. She wanted to keep freaking out, but she needed to regain her composure. She still had a letter from Ginny that arrived Sunday asking her about the ball, and she willed herself to not grab a parchment and quill and start spilling everything right now. She didn’t like responding in the height of her emotions, which is why she thought she would wait until Wednesday. She didn’t know if she could wait until Wednesday, now. It was a whole lot more than what she could express in a letter.
Time inched on, and she realized it had only been around 15 minutes. She needed tea, perhaps chamomile with honey, to help her get on with her day. But what if he’s there? One side asked. No, he’s never there. She countered herself. I still need to come up with something cool to cover why I acted like that, and what a great opportunity to get started on the questioning... Just in case... She was going to get tea first, and if Malfoy was there for some reason, she would grab food to not make herself look like a liar. As far as a question she should ask, it should be light and simple... drinks. What was in those delightful punches, Malfoy? But oh, what to lead him with? That was a closed-ended question. Oh sorry, had to dash because I am still secretly involved in my old department. Say, I ran into a house elf while at your party...
Fuck it. She couldn’t come up with anything decent. She just hoped he wasn't there and then she could get back to her office, where she would be safe and sound. She bravely opened the door to the outside department, and feigned confidence walking toward the cafeteria. Her heart was spiking with each approaching step, her eyes wide and alert as she rounded the corner, and - she looked around at the nearly empty room and saw no Malfoy. She let go a big exhale she didn’t know she had been holding in. Wasting no time, Hermione made her tea and left, eyeing the room somewhat suspiciously the whole time. She hastily grabbed a carrot muffin off the floating breakfast buffet in case she could stomach something later. Feeling like she was back in Hogwarts after hours, she stole back to her office as quickly as she could.
Maybe she could survive this day, she mulled over the first sip of her tea. She was going to need something a lot stronger than chamomile tea to get her through the week though.