We Were Gold

As I packed away the files into my desk and prepared to leave, Robards stuck his head out of his office, summoning me with a single glance. His obvious authority wasn’t fear-based, as my father’s had been, instead founded on a mutual respect amongst the aurors. He was a man of few words, and from my experience, not overly effusive in his praise. I took a seat in the chair opposite his desk as he closed the door. He fell into his desk chair with surprising grace and observed me over steepled fingers.

“Potter gave you the files?” He confirmed after several beats of silence passed between us. At my nod, he continued, “Good. Six attacks, all resulting in hospitalization. We’re lucky the Prophet hasn’t picked up on yet.”

“I assume that’s because the attacks are seemingly random. Different times of day, different sexes, different ages, different socioeconomic status. Hard to pin down as a single offender unless you have access to the case file,” I replied with a shrug. The urge to fidget had been stamped out by my father’s walking stick as a child, but under Robards’ scrutiny, I desperately wanted something to do with my hands. I settled for scratching my jawline at the stubble that had developed throughout the day.

He nodded before dismissing me with a wave of his hand. As I opened his office door, he spoke again. “You look like your father. People will hold that and your past against you. Don’t give them any reason to doubt you.”

I blinked in surprise before I nodded, closing the door behind me. As far removed as the auror department was from the Minister of Magic, working in a ministry department was still a minefield of politics and bureaucracy. I would be scrutinised on a much harsher scale than my colleagues, regardless of my aptitude for the job. I appreciated the warning for what it was; do not step out of line, no matter how much provocation there is. As qualified as I was to hold my new position, I would always be the scapegoat if something went amiss. I would have to work twice as hard as any of my peers for recognition.

As I waited for the lift, I glanced around the bullpen. The only sign of life was the light shining underneath the office doors of Robards and Potter. Weasley had left nearly two hours ago, citing the need to re-interview a witness for a prior case, and hadn’t returned. Berrycloth and Longbottom were patrolling Diagon after a spate of shoplifting reports. In what I could already tell would become a habit, I looked toward the legal department. As the doors to the lift opened with a chime, Granger rushed out of her office in a flurry of curls, hurriedly re-warding the door as she rushed down the hall.

“Hold the lift, please!” She called, head down and elbow deep in a small, beaded bag, roses nowhere to be seen. As she stepped in, she looked up in gratitude. “Oh, Draco, it’s you. I didn’t think anyone would still be here.”

“Robards wanted a quick word before I left. Make sure I know to keep my nose in line, remind me that people hate Death Eaters, the usual,” I added in response to her raised eyebrows.

“There is a strict anti-harassment policy in place. If anyone gives you any trouble-”

“I’ll make sure they know that they’ll have you to answer to. You’re bloody terrifying, so I can’t imagine that I’ll have any issues,” I interrupted with a smile. “Lucky me, my bodyguard is a foot shorter than I am, but quick with a wand. They’ll never see it coming.”

“Yes, ha ha, very amusing, I’m small and you’re tall. I meant from a legal standpoint, they could lose their job, or at the very least be suspended,” she swatted my arm in annoyance.

Just as I’d opened my mouth to reply, the lift announced our arrival in the atrium. The doors opened to Weasley, whose face immediately darkened at the sight of myself and Granger. There was a moment in which no one moved before he shuffled to the side to let us out. He reached out to grab Granger’s arm as she passed. She recoiled, and instinctively my hand reached for my shoulder holster. He raised his hands in apology, before opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking distinctly like a plimpy out of water. Granger folded her arms across her chest expectantly, and I resisted the overwhelming urge to drop my eyes to her chest.

“Look, Hermione- sorry Malfoy, can you give us a second?” Weasley asked, rubbing his neck in discomfort. I looked to Granger, waiting for her dismissal.

“Draco is fine, Ronald, what did you want?” she asked sharply.

“I’m sorry about last night, okay? I,” he glanced at me, and angled his body further away, attempting to shut me out of what I’m sure was going to be a half-hearted apology. “I know that I fucked up, and I need to pay more attention to the things you say. I know I’ve been pretty self-absorbed lately-”

I quickly turned my snort into a less-than believable cough. Lately? As if twenty-two years of solely caring about himself was just a phase. Granger turned at the sound, a strange look on her face. She looked almost ashamed, as if his behaviour was embarrassing to anyone but himself. She didn’t want me to hear anymore of the conversation, that much was clear by the discomfort on her face.

“I’m due to meet my mother for dinner. I’ll see you both tomorrow,” I excused myself and made my way to the floo.

* * * 

As I stepped out of the grate and into the drawing room of a spacious London townhouse, I found myself fixated on Granger’s expression. I hadn’t the foggiest idea what there was for her to be embarrassed about, other than how suspect her taste in men was.

A house-elf popped into the room (paid and clothed in a cerulean pinstriped satin pyjama set). “Right this way, Master Draco,” she squeaked, turning to lead me into the sitting room where my mother took tea.

My mother rose from the chaise she had been seated on to greet me. I kissed both of her cheeks before settling onto the antique settee opposite her. “Mipsy, the champagne please.”

In moments, Mipsy had reappeared with two crystal flutes and a bottle of Krug 1928 in a platinum ice bucket. Renouncing our family’s blood purity beliefs had done wonders for our wine cellar. She poured us each a glass and disappeared with a pop.

“What are we celebrating, Mother?” I asked raising an eyebrow. “Have you found a new Lord of the Manor?”

“Oh Draco, don’t be crass. You know I’ll never marry again. I haven’t given up the search for the next Lady Malfoy, either, no matter how you put me off,” she scolded me. “Alas, instead of celebrating your pending nuptials, we are toasting to the return of the Malfoy family to the working class.”

I raised my glass to hers and took a sip. “Cheers, Mother. I am now entirely dependent on a paycheque. I do hope you haven’t become too used to seeing the opera from your private box.”

She took a sip to hide the smile on her lips. “Tell me, darling, how was your first day?”

I recounted the minutiae of the last two days for her, including my chat with Robards forty-five minutes prior. She was aware of my friendship with the Potters and Granger, as well as my lingering dislike of Weasley. I rarely shared much detail, as the woman was too observant for my liking, though I had an inkling that she was already aware of my feelings about Granger, after several seemingly off-the-cuff comments ranging from: “That Granger girl has grown into a fine woman, Draco, ask her to dance,” to “A barrister is an admirable position for a wife, don’t you think, Draco?”  I also refrained from mentioning the fight between her and Weasley. My mother’s machinations for a daughter-in-law would not be hindered by something as trivial as an engagement between war heroes, and if she sensed any existing tension, she would scheme until there was a Malfoy ring in place of Weasley’s.

As I described exactly what I had worn yesterday, down to my socks (“Really Draco? Cervelt socks with a Lacroix tie? Next time just wear a sign around your neck saying, ‘New money.’”), Mipsy appeared, calling us to dinner.

“I hope you don’t mind, darling, but now that you’re a working man, I had Mipsy prepare what I have heard is the proper fare to keep you going through your day. I believe the term is ‘meat and two veg.’”

I choked on my champagne as I followed her to the informal dining room.

“Tell me, darling, have you seen Lady Nott recently?” She asked as we took our seats. Two house-elves served our meal, pouring us each a glass of a deep red wine before departing.

“Mother, you’ve known her since she was an infant. I’m certain you can call her Pansy, especially when it’s just you and me,” I took stock of my plate. “I rather doubt the masses consider rib roast, sun chokes and aubergine to be meat and two veg, Mother.”

“Yes, well, we’re not ‘the masses,’” she waved her hand dismissively. “Have you seen Pansy recently?”

“She’s in Paris until tomorrow. Theo stayed the night last night. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was still at my flat when I get home, drinking my liquor. I’ll be seeing them for dinner on Friday.”

“Just the three of you, or will there be other guests?”

“Subtle, Mother. As far as I know, it is just the three of us. Besides, I’m surprised that you would accept anyone that Pansy selected, after Ludmilla got sick all over your rosebushes,” I smirked, remembering Pansy’s last attempt at matchmaking.

“Nothing a simple Scourgify couldn’t fix,” she shrugged, as she took a sip of Cabernet.

“Strange, I remember it differently. I could have sworn the poor girl had a snout when she left, as well as that curly tail right above her shapely-”

“Enough, Draco. She was a swine, and I simply ensured that she could see it for herself,” she sniffed delicately. “Thank goodness your father wasn’t here to witness that debacle.”

“Especially if he had seen the peacocks eating what the Scourgify missed,” I smirked.

She glared at me over the rim of her wine glass; I smiled winningly in response.

As the elves cleared the dishes from our spotted dick, I extended my hand to help her rise from her seat. I nodded in thanks at the elves, both wearing emerald silk pantaloons and brocade jackets, and escorted her back to the sitting room for a glass of port before I left.

“Are you happy, Draco?” she asked quietly.

I blinked. This was a question I had never expected to be asked; not by either of my parents, not by anyone. There were expectations placed upon me from birth, and none of them required my happiness, or even my consent. I had certainly never thought to wonder if my parents were happy. They were lucky enough to have been a love-match (my mother, as the third sister to a blood-traitor and a lunatic, would have been sold to the highest bidder by my grandfather; happily for my father, what a Malfoy wants, a Malfoy gets), but they both had duties to perform, regardless of whether or not they were happy to do so. I wondered now, with my father gone, estranged from her only sister, whether my mother was happy. I was far too afraid to hear the answer to ask. 

“I think I am, Mother,” I replied thoughtfully. “I chose this career for myself and was accepted despite my name.”

“Was it choice, or some attempt at penance that led you to be an auror? Or perhaps, external influence of some kind?”

“Mother,” I warned.

“Draco, I am your mother. As much as you may loathe to admit it, I know you. I see how you look at her when we attend events, and I’ve heard you speak about her to anyone who will listen. I don’t want you to miss an opportunity for happiness when it is practically at your fingertips.”

I sighed, reigning in my emotions which were closer to the surface than usual after all the wine I’d consumed. “Mother, she is engaged. I will not allow her to be tarnished by my reputation. She deserves more than I can give her.”

She reached across the coffee table and patted my hand. “I think she deserves to know she has a choice.”

I finished my port in one swallow and stood, bending to press a kiss to her cheek.

“Goodnight, Mother. Thank you for having me. Give my compliments to Mipsy, please.”

A resigned smile crossed her face as I apparated away.

* * * 

I reappeared in my living room to a scene much like the night before. Instead of reclining on my sofa, Theo was in my favourite armchair, a wine glass in one hand and small, furry black object in the other. I threw myself gracelessly onto the sofa, assuming his position from the night before.

“Wine?” He waggled the bottle at me. It was from my personal cellar, naturally, and quite an excellent vintage. Of course he had helped himself to it. At my nod he poured me a glass and pushed it across the coffee table.

“Cheers,” I said sarcastically. The black object in his hand started to rhythmically expand and contract. “What’s that?”

He beamed at me. “A gift for you.”

“Ominous. What is it?”

“A cat.”

I looked at him blankly. “Why would I want a cat?”

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “You’re lonely. He’s low maintenance. You’ll have someone to keep you company in this great empty flat of yours.”

“Have you ever owned cat? What makes you think they’re low maintenance? It’s an infant, it needs its mother,” I spluttered, sitting upright.

“Reliable sources have told me that they’re independent and can be left alone whilst one works. This one is fully weaned and was removed from its mother safely,” he said, running a hand along what I could now see was the spine of a kitten curled into a ball.

“I’m the only person you know, besides your wife. How many reliable sources could you have? Surely you could keep it, since you seem friendly with it. Plus, your furniture isn’t nearly as expensive as mine.”

His sheepish look told me everything I needed to know.

“You bought it and Pansy said no, and you’ve already grown attached,” I leaned my head against the back of the sofa. “Fine, but you’re responsible for house training it. I don’t know the first thing about owning a cat. Is he fixed?”

“Of course he’s fixed, I wasn’t going to be an irresponsible cat father. Wait until he wakes up and you can see his little nose. I’ve already named him-”

I raised my hand. “No, no if he’s going to be my cat, I will be the one naming him. He comes from a long line of strong names, astral names.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “I watched him lick his own genitals earlier. Are you sure you want to claim him as a Black?”

“Would that we all could, Theo. Besides, he should satisfy my mother’s nagging about a grandchild, at least temporarily. Won’t you Pollux?” I addressed the kitten who had begun to stir.

He blinked up at me with startlingly green eyes, before stretching and jumping of Theo’s lap. I reached a hand out for him to sniff, which he ignored in favour of joining me on the sofa. I picked him up and brought him up to my eye level.

“Pollux, I’m Draco. I’m going to be looking after you from now on. Luckily, I happen to actually have a reliable source who knows quite a bit about cats,” I looked up to see Theo with a smug smile on his face. “Oh, shut up, Theo. I’m not the one who got attached prematurely.”

I conjured a length of ribbon and charmed it to move at random intervals for Pollux to chase while Theo and I sipped our wine.

“You don’t have any food in your house. Inconsiderate when you’re expecting overnight company, really,” Theo said after several minutes of watching the kitten leap for the ribbon.

“I have plenty of food here, you imbecile. Also, when exactly did you inform me to expect you overnight?” I rolled my eyes as I finished my wine. I eyed the bottle but didn’t pour myself another as I looked at my watch.

“Yes, you have ingredients for food, but no actual food to consume. You know when Pansy leaves I get lonely, and I’m certainly not staying with Zabini and Lovegood. Last time I spent the night I caught them on the breakfast table, where they then proceeded to serve me breakfast,” he shuddered at the memory.

“Cooking is like potions. You turn ingredients into meals. Just like magic.” I stood, disrupting Pollux’s play with my movement. I walked down the hall to my bedroom, calling over my shoulder, “Be quiet when you come to bed, yes?”

“Of course, darling. Me and the baby,” he replied.

When I woke up the next morning, Pollux was curled on my pillow, head resting on mine. I cursed Theo, who promptly rolled onto my side of the bed, and dressed hurriedly. I needed to catch Granger before her workday began; if she was anything like the swot I remembered from school, she wouldn’t take a break until she finished, not even for lunch.

The lift from the atrium was full, but blessedly silent, as I held two coffee cups and a croissant out of reach of a swarm of memos. I stepped out at the bullpen and watched two memos fly directly through Potter’s open door. Instead of heading directly to the legal department as I had planned, I detoured to his office.

At my knock, his head popped up. He looked like he hadn’t slept, and his hair was even more unruly than usual.

I sniffed the air pointedly. “Did you even go home last night?”

He pushed his glasses up to rub his eyes with the heels of his hands. “No, and I haven’t heard the end of it from Ginny. There’s so much more paperwork with this job than I was expecting, and I knew I wasn’t going to be in the field as much, but I don’t know what I’m even signing off on half the time, and-”

“Potter, go get a coffee and some breakfast. Send an owl to your wife, make dinner plans in Diagon to apologise. Get her a bouquet of purple hyacinths. And shower, for the love of Merlin.” I held up the coffees in my hand. “Is Granger in? I have questions for her.”

“Purple hyacinths?”

“Yes, they symbolize sincere regret. Is. Granger. Here?” I repeated slowly as he was clearly not yet in possession of a fully functioning brain.

He nodded. “Yeah, I saw her and Ron come in. Thanks, Malfoy, I mean it, truly-”

“It’s fine. You’ve only been in the role for a few weeks. It’s all new to you both. I’ll speak to you after you’ve bathed,” I replied, backing out of the room.

Weasley hadn’t been in the bullpen when I arrived, nor was he there now, meaning I would have to suffer his presence if I wanted Granger’s advice. Needs must, I suppose. I sighed before lightly knocking on her office door and letting myself in.

They were both smiling and leaning against her desk when I entered the room; Weasley’s grin disappeared completely when he saw me, while Granger’s grew when she saw the coffee cup.

“Good morning, Draco. Two coffees in a row, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She asked stretching her hand out.

Weasley mumbled unhappily under his breath until Granger silenced him with a look.

“Today, I admit, it’s bribery. I need your help,” I admitted, taking a seat in the chair meant for visitors and gesturing to the croissant. She nodded solemnly, prompting me to continue. “I’ve recently come into a cat, and I really know nothing about them. I figured with your experience with your ginger menace, present company excluded, Weasley, that you could give me some tips to keep him alive.”

Weasley’s face turned puce so quickly, I was worried he was having some sort of medical emergency. Granger shot me a dirty look behind his back, before attempting to soothe him.

“Ronald, he’s kidding. I’ll meet you for lunch later, alright?”

He huffed, before grabbing her face and bringing her mouth to his in what was a very damp, noisy kiss. “Bye Hermione,” he mumbled as he flicked me the V on his way out the door.

Granger took the seat behind her desk, discreetly wiping her mouth with her cuff. “Would it kill you to try to behave, please? I had hoped that after all these years that the two of you could stand to be in the same room together.”

I sighed. “I’ll try, Granger. It is however a lifelong habit that won’t be easy to kick. And to be fair, I've called him much worse before.”

She rolled her eyes. “So, you’ve inherited a cat?”

I told her about Pollux, and Theo’s decision to adopt him without the permission of his head of household, and how that led to my adoption of him.

“Well, it’s very lovely that you’ve stepped in. Theo was right, they really are quite low maintenance. Make sure you have toys to keep him entertained, and that he is very clear on his litterbox. Seeing as he’s a Malfoy, I imagine he’ll only eat bluefin tuna steaks.”

“Non, seulement sole meunière pour mon fils,” I smirked.

She tried, and failed, to keep a smile off her face. “Was that all you needed, Draco? I’m very busy as you know.”

I laughed as I stood up. “That’s all Granger. Thanks for the advice. You’ll have to stop by and meet him one day.”

She beamed at me. “I’d love to!”

I nodded and closed the door behind me before I could say something disgusting and vulnerable like “Bring your cat and I’ll make you dinner, and we’ll pair it with wine that I know you’ll love, and you’ll never have to leave.” I made my way to my desk, catching Weasley’s eye as I crossed the room. He sneered and looked away. I sighed, Granger’s request for civility echoing in my ears. I retrieved the casefiles from my desk, and began poring over them once more, hoping to find some sort of pattern to help identify the perp.

* * *

I was jolted from my work with the slamming of a door in legal, and footsteps storming across the bullpen. I watched Weasley throw himself in his chair, head in hands. He gripped his hair once before letting out a heavy sigh and reaching for a file in his in-tray.

I glanced at my watch, startled to see that it was nearly half past one. My stomach let out an unsophisticated rumble. I stood, shrugging my jacket back, before making my way to the lift for lunch.

The ministry cafeteria was nearly empty, save for table of two on the far side of the room, hidden behind a poorly cast Notice-Me-Not. I shuddered to think about which HR policies they were violating behind their shoddy spell work, in a place where food was consumed, no less.

I grabbed two sandwiches (prawn and mayonnaise and coronation chicken) and two packets of Hawthorne’s Salt & Vinegar Crisps (“So Acidic, They’ll Burn a Hole in Your Tongue”) before returning to the DMLE.

I walked through the bullpen and knocked on the office door Weasley had slammed earlier. “Granger, I brought you some lunch,” I replied to her faint “Who is it?”

I let myself in and was unsurprised to see her eyes filled with unshed tears. “Prawn or chicken?” I asked.

She sniffled and held her hand out. “Prawn please,” she said in a shaky voice.

I took the seat I had occupied earlier this morning and opened my bag of crisps. “Did you work through your lunch date with Weasley?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

She nodded, lips quivering. “He was so upset, especially after the big argument we had about him forgetting important things.”

I sighed and took a bite of my sandwich. “Look, Granger, the bloke loves you. He’s upset because you’re not taking care of yourself if you keep forgetting to eat, and I'm sure it feels like he's not a priority of yours if you've made this a habit. ” If anyone had told me five years ago, hell five hours ago, that I would be attempting to patch up the relationship between Weasley and Granger I would have taken them straight to St Mungo’s. Alas, I want the woman I love to be happy, even if it is with that great, ginger buffoon. Never let it be said that Slytherins were purely self-serving. “He’s also a bit tetchy about having me around still, so try to cut him some slack.”

She nodded as she took a bite. “I know. I’m so sorry to drag you into this Draco, it’s so embarrassing to have this play out in the workplace. Sometimes, I forget that relationships take work. It was so much easier when there was no one else but the three of us.” She had a bit of mayonnaise on her upper lip and was so adorably sincere that I felt my heart clench.

“Do you mean during the war that ravaged our youth? Surely there was an easier time than that.” She flushed. “And you didn’t drag me into anything. I walked in of my own volition. Maybe finish a bit early today, huh? You two could get an early dinner,” I suggested with faux enthusiasm. Her tongue darted out to get the mayonnaise from her lip and I nearly groaned.

“That’s a great idea, Draco. Thank you,” she gave me a watery grin and I nodded. “And thank you for lunch. That’s twice today you’ve fed me.”

I wanted to cover her in jewels, dress in her in the finest silks, drown her in all that my money could buy, and she here was thanking me for a pastry and a soggy, plastic-wrapped, cafeteria-supplied sandwich. The ache in my chest only deepened. She was a remarkable witch, so far beyond any that my mother could attempt to set me up with.

I forced a smile. “Anytime, Granger, anytime.”

I Evanesco-ed our rubbish and raised my hand in farewell. As I opened the door, I once again came face-to-face with Weasley. I moved to the side to let him in. Remembering my promise to Granger earlier, I refrained from commenting on the onion-breath pelting my face.

“I’ll see you around Granger, Weasley,” I nodded to them both and closed the door behind me.