Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hermione suppressed a shiver as she walked along the path leading to the mansion. In daylight, the park looked nothing like the dark, menacing place she remembered, but the memory of the last time she had been inside the building ahead added to her nervousness the feeling of anxiety a prey might feel when the hunter is near.

She lifted the heavy silver knocker on the massive door, but before she could knock, the door was opened by an old house elf, whose pronounced stoop made her seem even smaller than she actually was.

"Welcome, Miss Granger," the house elf piped. "The master asks me to thank you for your visit, but he is currently unavailable. If you could leave a message with me?"

Hermione frowned, then told herself that the mansion undoubtedly was heavily warded against intrusion and that she must have set off a dozen alarms on her way to the door.

"I really need to talk to Mr. Malfoy myself," she said. "If he is busy at the moment, I don't mind waiting."

The house elf shook her head. "That won't be possible, Miss Granger. The master is leaving tonight."

"Then maybe you can tell me when he will return?" Hermione persisted. It had taken so much effort to convince herself to come here, she was not going to be turned away now.

The house elf shook her head again, but then stopped, frowned, and said, "Please come in, Miss Granger."

With a triumphant grin, Hermione followed her inside, passing the grand staircase to a door on one side of the hallway, which the elf opened for her.

"Please wait here, Miss Granger, the master will be with you in a moment."

Hermione looked around.

She supposed that this was what in historical novels would be called the morning room. There was a table and some chairs on one side, in front of large windows letting in the sun and providing a stunning view of the park. On the other side of the room there was a sofa and some chairs arranged so that any occupants could comfortably chat with each other over the low table. The floor was covered with a thick oriental carpet she was sure was a Nain, a pattern she particularly liked. The blue curtains by the window and the blue upholstery of the chairs picked up the background colour of the carpet and gave the room a cozy atmosphere.

"This shows a lot more taste than you would have expected from anybody who kept white peacocks", she said to herself with a grin.

"I would have expected you to realise, Miss Granger, that it is highly unlikely that the white peacocks were my idea," a familiar voice said from behind her.

She spun around.

Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway, impeccably dressed in dark blue robes, setting off his silver-blond hair to perfection. Even though Hermione had chosen her clothes carefully this morning and had considered her own grey robes – she usually wore Muggle clothes when not at work, but it had seemed wiser to wear robes when visiting the Malfoys – quite alright, she now felt dowdy and at an extreme disadvantage compared to this man.

"You startled me," she stuttered.

"So it seems. But how this is possible I don't know. Weren't you waiting for me?" He came in and gestured towards the couch. "Have a seat, Miss Granger. If I remember correctly, conversations with you are likely to take rather longer than anticipated."

She sat down on the very edge of the sofa, nervously rearranging her robes.

"So to what circumstance do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Hermione swallowed to wet her suddenly dry throat. What was she doing here? The last time she had met the Malfoys, they had been fighting on opposite sides in a war, and it wasn't as if they had been friends before that.

"Well?" Lucius Malfoy asked expectantly.

"Er – thanks for giving me a few minutes of your time, Mr. Malfoy." She tried to recall the list of things to say she had thought up earlier. "I won't keep you very long."

She hesitated, trying to gather her thoughts. He was leaning back nonchalantly in his chair and looking at her with an expression of mild interest, but she was sure that he was silently mocking her.

"How is your wife?" she blurted out, just to say something.

He raised an eyebrow. "The last time I talked to her, which was about two weeks ago, she was fine, thank you. She was planning a holiday in Spain with the gentleman that currently has her favour – or at least had at that time."

Hermione frowned. Then she remembered that there had been something in the Prophet a while ago about the Malfoys. If she remembered correctly, Narcissa had left her husband because she considered him responsible for getting the family almost killed in the war.

"Oh," she said. What did you say in a situation like that? There was nothing she could think of. And Mr. Malfoy didn't seem devastated about the fact. Probably just his pride was wounded.

"And how is Draco?"

The expression on his face suddenly became wooden. "He is fine," he said curtly. "But I am sure you didn't decide to visit me this morning to inquire about my family."

Hermione blushed. "Well, no."

"Then what can I do for you? Of course, it is a pleasure to talk to you, but you will understand that I must deal with some business affairs that unfortunately will not wait."

She pressed her lips together. That arrogant, ironic tone made her just as angry as Draco's sneers had done in Hogwarts, but unlike then, she couldn't just stand up and slap Lucius Malfoy in the face. Not if she wanted his help – and probably not if she wanted to leave this house in one piece.

"I wanted to ask – I mean, there is something..." Her voice trailed off. She took a deep breath and started again. "I would like to ask your help, Mr. Malfoy."

He was critically inspecting the fingernails on his right hand, but looked up at this. "My help, Miss Granger? Surely you can't consider me a likely source of help. What could I possibly do that the famed Golden Trio couldn't do alone – or with the assistance of the equally popular Miss Weasley?"

Hermione fidgeted. "Well, in this case, I need some – well – some information, I'd say, that they don't have. It isn't really information; it's more like a talent, an ability."

"Ability or talent cannot be given to somebody, however. So I don't see at all how I could be of assistance."

"Well, you see, I am working on the case of that serial killer murdering the Purebloods, and we do have something that could be a lead, but to figure it out, we need to spy on a certain group of people. And I don't really know anything about how to spy on people, so I figured a Slytherin could help."

"How flattering," Lucius said tartly. "But how did you pick me as the Slytherin of your choice?"

Hermione felt herself blush again. "I don't know all that many Slytherins, do I? We weren't exactly friends with them at Hogwarts."

"And why did you think I would be willing to help you?" he asked, apparently amused.

She frowned. "Well, he's killing Purebloods, right? So you might even be in danger yourself. So if you help me..."

He held up a hand to stop her. "Not quite, Miss Granger. The gentleman with this rather gruesome habit is not killing Purebloods in general. He is killing male Purebloods – yes, I know that this applies to me – but all of his victims have another thing in common which you might have overlooked. They were all unimportant Purebloods. No connections, no well-known families, no influence. So, you see, I don't fit into the picture at all. But of course it is flattering that you thought of me as your first choice."

Hermione shot him an angry look. This was just typical! The Malfoys were always too arrogant to see a risk for themselves, and they wouldn't lift a finger if it wasn't for their own gain.

"What makes you think you were my first choice?" she snapped.

"Wasn't I? How disappointing. But didn't you say you were not acquainted with any – er – suitable Slytherins?"

"I'd rather have gone to Professor Snape than you, if only he was still alive," Hermione said sharply. "He might have been mean, but at least he had some standards and interests apart from his own well-being."

"And look where it got him," Mr. Malfoy muttered. "So my dear friend Severus managed to gain your favour. I am sure he would be thrilled if he knew."

Hermione snorted. "Yeah right. But it doesn't matter, does it? He's dead." Her voice caught slightly on the last word as she remembered the scene in the Shrieking Shack. She still was angry at herself for not even trying to help him. When they went back hours later to retrieve the body, they had been unable to find it, and she had worried for weeks what the Death Eaters might have done to it if they had realised that he had been a traitor.

"So it appears," Lucius said suavely.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, so it appears? I saw that bloody snake almost bite his head off."

"Certainly," he replied calmly, but with a mocking smile. "Now that your reasoning for coming to me for help is established, why don't you try again to give me a reason to help you?"

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked at him closely. Why was he giving her a second chance to convince him? In general, it was a good idea to look a gift horse of a Malfoy's providing in the mouth, but she was completely out of other ideas to learn how to spy and simply didn't have a choice.

"If you don't see a risk for yourself, you could maybe help me just – well, just for the fun of it."

"For the fun of it," he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. Or to annoy the Ministry, or at least the Omega Office."

"What makes you think I might be inclined to annoy this worthy organisation?" he asked. But there was something in his manner that made Hermione think that she had his interest.

"The Omega Office has been assigned the task of finding the Pureblood Ripper," she explained. "And I have been temporarily transferred to help with some calculations – I work in the Arithmancers' Office. And the head of the Omega Office, Robert Delancey, who..."

"I know who Robert Delancey is," Lucius said calmly, but again Hermione thought he was not as unconcerned as he pretended to be.

"So anyway, Delancey apparently doesn't think my help does any good, so I want to prove him otherwise."

"And in what way does this concern me?" Lucius asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Well, considering the way Delancey hunts former Death Eaters, I'm sure you can't be the best of friends."

Lucius leaned back in his chair. "Mr. Delancey has indeed paid me a visit not too long ago which I do admit I resented. His tone was not at all what I am accustomed to hearing from Ministry employees."

"Therefore, you might be interested in annoying him a little."

"I fail to see how doing his job for him would annoy him," Lucius said.

Hermione sighed. "Because he's going to hate the fact that it wasn't him doing it. But there won't be much he could do about it because we're actually helping him solve the case."

"And you expect me to assist with this childish plan?"

She shrugged. "I never claimed to have a sophisticated plan. I just want to catch that killer. You were the one who needed some extra incentives."

For a moment, he studied her carefully. Then he said, "I could probably consider helping you. However, I ask for something more in return than just the annoyance of Robert Delancey."

Hermione eyed him warily. She strongly suspected that she wasn't going to like his terms. But she really had no idea what to offer him. What could a rich, successful businessman who had managed – yet again – to weasel his way out of prosecution for his actions during the war, possibly need that an underpaid Ministry employee without the least influence could get?

"You are aware that my wife has decided not to continue our marriage," he said calmly. "But I am sure you understand that I still have need for a female companion from time to time. For several reasons that are of no concern to you, I would not like to approach any of the single women in my acquaintance. You, on the other hand..."

Before he could continue, Hermione jumped up. "I can't believe you would even dare suggest something like that!" she cried. "Do you really think I would do that? What sort of person do you take me for?"

He seemed unperturbed by her yelling. "Highly amusing as your insinuation might be, Miss Granger, please do consider the likelihood of it. I know you are generally considered attractive enough and I have even heard people voice their surprise about the fact that you are still single, but you must remember that I am used to different standards."

Hermione blushed. She felt extremely stupid. Of course, for somebody who had been married to Narcissa Malfoy, she wouldn't be interesting. But what else could he have possibly meant?

"My suggestion was for something slightly different," he continued. "As you know, I am required to, from time to time, appear at dinners and official functions, usually hosted by the Minister. It is quite out of the question to go to these events alone. There also are still some rumours that I might not in fact have renounced my misguided allegiance to the one who called himself the Dark Lord. However, if you would consider accompanying me, I am sure the rumours would die down. After all, Hermione Granger, famed friend of the famed Harry Potter, would not be seen in public with a Death Eater, would she?"

Hermione gripped the back of the chair. "And you expect me to do that?" she asked with forced calmness.

"I don't see why you might not, Miss Granger. You are, if the yellow press is to be believed, single, you have asked for my help, and I don't think it is an unreasonable price I am asking. My company is generally valued highly by single females."

She pressed her lips together. Arrogant git!

"I might consider doing it, if I knew whether it would be worth the effort," she replied. "But you weren't the one who managed to trick Lord Voldemort until the end, were you?"

"I might not have managed to lie to him as effectively as Severus, Miss Granger, but I am the one still living my life."

She took a deep breath. She didn't need him. "If this is all, I'm sorry to have bothered you. There's no need to call the house elf, I'll let myself out."

She stomped towards the door.

When her fingers touched the handle, he called her back. "Miss Granger, there is one more thing."

She turned and looked at him expectantly.

"I would suggest that you study the personals in the Saturday edition of the Prophet. You might find the pages – edifying."

It took all her effort not to hex him immediately. "Thanks, but I am not that desperate yet. But feel free to post an ad yourself; I am sure any single female is just dying to be your arm candy."

He didn't reply, and after a moment she left the room, nodding curtly to the house elf that came running to open the door for her, and walked through the park to the Apparition point outside the gate.

She should have known it was useless asking a Malfoy for help. Did he really expect her to degrade herself like this, basically sell herself as an escort in exchange for information that might not be of any use anyway?

It wasn't as if he was the master spy. Sure, he had managed to trick the Minister, but most people managed that if they tried hard enough.

And the implication in his last remark – as if she needed a man! As if she wasn't very well able to live on her own. Maybe some women fell for this macho behaviour, but she didn't need any of it. And she certainly didn't need Lucius Malfoy.

She was still seething by the time she reached her flat, and the fact that it was in desperate need of cleaning while Malfoy had a house elf to do the work for him didn't improve her temper.

Trying to channel her energy into a more productive outlet, she sifted through all the information she had about the Pureblood Ripper and the Society for the Promotion of Blood Diversity. There was nothing. No hint, nothing that could help her solve the mystery.

She dropped the stack of papers she had been reading and decided to go to bed.