Chapter 4
Hermione stood, gazing at the midnight phial uncertainly, palms digging into the cold marble of the Pensieve – she could feel the grooves of the runic embellishments marking her skin. Clearly Malfoy had discovered something of interest to their assignment; was this strange blackened memory what Bulder meant about Malfoy’s ‘vested interest’ in memory magic? He really should have told her. But then, she supposed – frowning at the dark whirls dancing in front of her – it was his memory, and that was rather personal. She hadn’t volunteered to tell him about her parents.
How on earth did Bulder think this was going to work?
She and Malfoy could not possibly work together on a project as … sensitive as this.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing Granger?”
Hermione started. So wrapped up had she been in debating the ethical dilemmas around spying on her school nemesis’ very personal, and clearly damaged, memories that she hadn’t noticed the Memory Room’s door creak open. She looked up.
Malfoy stood illuminated by the light of the main chamber; his expression was thunderous. Had Hermione been anyone else she may have cowered as he stalked forward; his eyes dangerously cold and his lip curling. But – Hermione was not a Gryffindor for nothing.
Drawing herself up to her full height she held her ground as Malfoy loomed over her; a storm in his steel gaze.
“What do you think you are doing Malfoy? You’ve clearly found something of relevance to our assignment” Her voice was incensed and her cheeks were flushed – both with embarrassment and irritation. “You may not like me Malfoy – but I am your partner in this research, so it’s pretty important you tell me anything you find.” Her hands were on her hips and her lips pursed; rather in the fashion of a Molly Weasley-esque telling off.
Malfoy, for his part, seemed entirely unperturbed by the image that would have felled many a Weasley son; such was the level of his own rage.
“Leave off Granger” He all but snarled. “You cannot take the high road right now. I come back from lunch to find you – bloody nosy Gryffindor that you are – at the Pensieve with MY memory. I don’t give a flying fuck that you’re my ‘partner’ or about our research; this memory,” he swiped the phial from the edge of the Pensieve, “is mine. You had no right to take it. Fuck! You Gryffindors are unreal. You haven’t bloody changed at all, have you? Sticking your wand in where it’s not wanted. You better not have watched this?”
Hermione flinched as he raised his fist, half expecting it to collide with her face – but he simply held the memory at her eye level. She did not miss the way his eyes flashed at her reaction – was that hurt behind the steely gaze? Something about the fact that she could possibly have hurt his feelings halted her tongue. That was until she registered the fact that the insults continued on.
“…. busy-body know-it-all.”
She bristled.
“I couldn’t give a flying fig about your memory Malfoy. Genuinely – I could not care less about whatever it is that is in that phial. What I care about – what I want to know, Malfoy.” She jabbed his chest sharply with her forefinger. “Is why your memory is black. My job … our job, is to research memory magic. So forgive me if thinking that your twisted memory, or whatever it is, might be somewhat important to our job.”
They glared at each other – Slytherin versus Gryffindor, snake versus lion, ice versus fire – before Malfoy turned abruptly on his heel and walked straight back out of the memory room. He summoned the remaining two memories as he did so; and they flew past Hermione, jostling her hair, before landed in his hand.
Hermione fell heavily back into her chair.
Merlin, the man was insufferable.
She ignored the small voice whispering that he might actually have had a point.
“Honestly Gin, he has not changed one jot since school.” Hermione raised her glass for a refill; Ginny’s wand instructed the bottle to dance it’s way across the table to her. “He spent a good five minutes shouting about what a know-it-all I am. I cannot believe Bulder thought this was a good idea.” She rolled her eyes as she took a sip of the rich burgundy liquid.
“Hrrrrmph” Ginny responded; trying to form words around the garlic bread she had been inhaling.
“Always so fetching Gin!” Harry laughed as he entered the dining room – levitating three steaming bowls of spaghetti bolognese.
Ginny threw a cushion - which landed softly at Harry’s sock-clad feet.
Harry cocked an eyebrow at his wife. “What sort of Chaser are you?”
Ginny poked her tongue at him. “If I was aiming for your face, you would know about it.”
Harry grinned in response.
“Harry, this smells divine!” Hermione inhaled deeply as the bowl settled gently in front of her.
Harry flushed lightly at the praise.
“He’s been working his way through Mum’s recipes! I think she was hoping I’d take after her in the kitchen, but quite frankly I’m hopeless! So Harry’s picking up the slack. I think she’s disappointed that Harry has better wifely credentials than me” Ginny grinned toothily at her husband.
Harry rolled his eyes.
“Lucky for you Gin I was raised on scraps. Even your burnt chilli beats the scraps Aunt Petunia used to feed me!”
Ginny’s lips pursed as they were wont to do at the mention of Harry’s relatives.
Perhaps sensing the delicacy of his wife’s temper Harry sought to negotiate the conversation back to Hermione.
“So – Mione. Partnered with Malfoy, eh? Sounds like a right nightmare if you ask me!”
A snarl of frustration left Hermione as she wound pasta around her fork before she launched into a further rant about the temerity of her new colleague.
“Honestly Theo mate! She’s not bloody changed at all. Still a fucking snooping know-it-all. It’s been a day and she’s driving me round the bend.” Draco took a long draught from his whiskey and let his head fall back onto the lush cushioning of his dark, leather chesterfield.
As if sensing Theo’s reaction Draco’s head snapped up and his grey eyes narrowed at his oldest friend.
Sure enough, Theo sat there with a smirk on his narrow face and his ice-blue eyes danced with amusement.
“What?” Draco snapped.
Theo chuckled. “Nothing mate, just deja-vu.” Draco raised a questioning eyebrow. “I could have sworn for a moment we were back in third year with the way you’re bitching about Granger.”
Theo grinned widely as Draco rolled his eyes theatrically.
“Fuck off Nott”
“Ahh c’mon mate! I know you can’t tell me what it is you’re working on – but Granger isn’t ‘the brightest witch of our age’ for nothing. Insufferable she might be – but at least she’s no slouch. Succeed at this – and you might be able to step up at the Ministry.”
Draco inclined his head in assent as he took another sip of his firewhiskey.
“Mother has been rather adamant that I salvage the Malfoy reputation. She had a conniption when I announced I planned on being an Unspeakable. Can’t get on the Prophet’s good side if no-one knows what you do.”
“Your mother makes an excellent point. Though, one doesn’t need a front page spread; you can do plenty to restore your reputation by playing nice with Granger.”
Draco pulled a face.
Laughing, Theo continued – “You know it Draco. She’s one-third of the Golden Trio – and by far the brains behind Potter’s success – make friends with her and the rest of her pigeon-brained companions will follow suit. Not to mention that if you succeed in your first Unspeakable assignment you’ll have one foot on the ladder to progress – prove that you belong there!”
“You’ve drunk far too much firewhiskey if you think Granger would so much as consider being my friend. Let alone Potter and the Weasel. They’d be more inclined to think I’d imperiused her or used some other nefarious manipulation.”
Theo smirked.
“Ahh, but you’re forgetting my friend – Granger’s a bleeding heart. Show her how you’ve repented your ways and she’ll drag you into the fold faster than you can say Kneazle.”
Draco’s laugh was sarcastic enough to show Theo exactly what he thought of that assessment. He leant forward to stub out his cigar.
“Fine then. Brush up on our old etiquette lessons and just avoid an argument with the witch. If you don’t want use her to improve your social standing you can at least use her brains to improve your professional one.”
Draco tilted his head in assent.
“Now. Enough about you – let me fill you in on my latest case!”