Sixteen for Discovery

Chapter 19: Sixteen for Discovery

Hermione stared across the table, refusing to flinch from Lucius's cold gaze. She would not allow his humourless smile to intimidate her this time. When thoughts of Mikolaj Brukowski's death caused her hands to shake, she merely leant back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest, tucking the telltale trembling from sight. Lucius turned to address a waiter who had appeared, and she looked away, drawing even breaths through her lungs. Her half-full coffee cup beckoned her, begging to be tossed in his face. The satisfaction from imagining the scenario did not linger. Such an action might provide a brief victory, but in the end, it would only prove he had once again managed to upset her.

The words Snape had spoken several weeks earlier floated through her mind. By reacting to Lucius's manoeuvres, she was the one granting him the power to threaten her. If she could just remain aloof, like Snape, perhaps she could shift the balance of power. Such bravado was easier to contemplate than enact. Again, memories of her mentor teased her consciousness. Had the man sitting across from her murdered her former professor? The Ministry's investigation had failed to implicate him...they were still convinced Brukowski had taken his own life. Her doubts remained strong, and she wondered if she might turn this unfortunate meeting to her advantage. Surely Lucius was the type of man who enjoyed boasting of his successes. If she could steer the conversation to Brukowski, could she coax a murder confession from him?

"I hope Luna wasn't too worried," he said after the waiter departed. There was a distinct lack of sincerity in his voice.

"And I hope you didn't manufacture an incident with the twins simply to meet with me." She forced herself to smile. "You could have just asked."

His lips thinned. "My previous invitations have been rejected."

"Yes, I've been quite busy," she said with a careless shrug. Her coffee had grown cold, but she swallowed a bitter mouthful while searching for a way to manipulate the conversation. A dull ache had formed in the centre of her forehead. She couldn't fathom how a person could spend any length of time living a charade and felt her respect for Snape increase.

"How fortunate we are to find ourselves with a free afternoon," he said, rising from the table. "Come, my dear. I have something you simply must see."

Too late, she realised she should have anticipated this. He held his hand out, and she studied the carefully manicured fingernails while considering her next move.

"Surely you're not scared, Miss Granger?" he asked, his lips curling.

"Of course not," she replied. The warning bells in her head were ignored as she took his hand and rose from the table. An attendant materialised with her cloak, and Lucius draped it across her shoulders. Inside her robe, she grasped the handle of her wand, drawing courage from its familiar feel. She followed Lucius to the back of the restaurant and through a door, stopping when he paused in a dark alley. She did not fear for her safety, a realisation that surprised her. Lucius wanted something from her, so he'd be a fool to hurt her. Of course, she'd be a bigger fool to trust him.

His smile held menace as his fingers slid around her arm. "Side-Along will be best, I believe."

"Great," she said with far more enthusiasm than she felt.

"We'd best make sure I don't lose you." White teeth glinted in the darkness as his lips parted. He snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her closer until their hips touched.

Soon she was spinning fast, and her excellent lunch rose in her stomach. She had never cared for Side-Along Apparition, but she suspected this particular journey was being made intentionally uncomfortable. They stopped with a sudden, violent lurch. His deep chuckle tickled her ear when she toppled into his chest. She stepped away, thinking she'd say something witty to show how unaffected she was. But the walls refused to hold still, and her attention was focused on keeping her lunch down.

When the room stopped spinning, she gazed around, quickly surmising they had Apparated into his office. An enormous desk dominated the centre of the room, heavy mahogany with intricate carvings. The large chair sitting empty behind the desk was covered in dark green leather and looked just as haughty as its usual occupant. Elegant lamps sat on antique tables, dotting the perimeter of the room.

Lucius removed his travelling cloak, inviting her to do the same. She shrugged aside the garment and continued to survey the room. Several paintings covered the walls, and while most were classic Impressionist, one Baroque piece in particular caught her attention. Handing over her cloak, she approached the painting for a closer inspection.

Inside a modest frame, one woman played an elaborately decorated harpsichord while another stood beside it, singing. A man was seated between them, with his back to the viewer. His head was framed by two paintings, one of which she recognised as Baburen's The Procuress. A violin lay upon a table while a double bass littered the black and white parquet floor in the foreground.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" asked Lucius, his breath warm upon her hair.

She'd been so intent on the painting she hadn't heard him traverse the thick rugs covering the floor. A crystal glass was pressed into her hand, and she sniffed the ochre liquid swirling within. Watching him sip from an identical glass, she winced when the scent of strong alcohol washed over her, burning her eyes.

His proximity made her skin crawl, but she was determined to remain detached. "Vermeer?" she asked.

"Very good." He bowed his head in acknowledgment before shifting indecently close. "Have you seen it before?" he whispered into her ear. He sounded like a child with a naughty secret.

"Of course," she said, recalling art history classes from university. She kept her movements nonchalant and walked away. "It's called The Concert. As I recall, it was stolen from an American museum and never recovered." She turned back, her face composed as she casually perched upon the edge of his massive desk.

He offered no response, his attention seemingly diverted by an intense scrutiny of her skirt. The sheer, flowing material had been appropriate for the spring weather she'd enjoyed at Hogwarts but seemed out of place now. It was also distinctly Muggle in appearance. She watched his gaze flicker from her skirt to his desk and back again, and she wondered if he feared she might contaminate his furniture.

The thought lifted her lips, but her smile froze when she met his eyes. There was something possessive about his expression, an unsettling determination that made the hair on her forearms stand on end. This time she listened to the alarm sounding in her head and scooted off the desk, setting aside her drink, untouched.

"Surely you didn't bring me here for the stolen artwork?" she asked with a confidence she didn't feel. She walked to the lone door in the room, pausing to glance over her shoulder. His face was impassive, and she wondered if her imagination had tricked her. He watched her for a moment before draining his glass in several long swallows.

"Quite so," he confirmed, crossing the room. He grasped the doorknob but held the door closed. "Naturally, this painting is but a copy of the original." His smile held such wicked delight it was obvious he was lying. "A most superior copy.

"You clearly have an appreciation for the masters, Miss Granger," he commented, peering down his aristocratic nose at her. "I must show you my entire collection some day...there are several pieces you might find surprising." An ominous nod accompanied his words. "Remind me to arrange a private showing for you."

Fat chance, she thought, although she murmured a noncommittal, "Mm."

He opened the door at last, and she squeezed by him, stepping into an empty hallway. Nearly four years had passed since she'd stood outside the executive suites of Arglist Industries. Little had changed. She glanced behind her and frowned at the small, nondescript door. It was little wonder she had never noticed it during her employment...it looked as if it led to a broom cupboard, not the owner's private office.

A hand on the small of her back steered her towards the end of the corridor, towards the lower levels and the laboratories. She was unsurprised to find herself at Arglist, and now that they had left the confines of his unfamiliar office, her confidence grew.

Passing by the door to the Director's office, she seized on the opportunity to discuss Arglist employees. "I had heard there was a fire in Henri's office a few years ago," she said, referring to the inferno she had created the night she'd destroyed her research.

"Yes," he confirmed with a thin smile. "Henri was a careless man."

"Was?" she asked. A sense of foreboding stole over her as they rounded a corner and approached what had once been her main laboratory.

"Henri is no longer with us." His tone made it impossible to gauge whether Henri was no longer employed...or no longer living.

"You seem to have difficulties retaining your employees, Mr Malfoy," she said as they paused outside the double doors. "Myself ... Henri ... Mikolaj ..."

"Attrition is the bane of all managers." He cocked his head and frowned at her. "Some employees are simply harder to replace than others," he added, opening one door wide.

Her involuntary gasp echoed off stainless steel shelves and pristine worktables. The facility had housed an impressive array of scientific and magical equipment four years earlier...now, it boasted items she had only dreamt of using. There were Aurascopes unlike any she'd seen before, gleaming Reductate-Imagers coveted worldwide, and she counted no less than three Biometrons. Half the equipment she knew to be years away from public availability, and she wondered how Arglist had managed to obtain so many samples. She meandered further inside, yearning to examine each piece in depth.

Stopping at a cauldron cast in pure platinum, she couldn't resist running her finger around the cold metal rim. It was large...nearly twice the size of any solid gold cauldron...and likely cost more than the Director's annual salary. A notebook lay open beside it, and she scanned the data with interest.

The hypothesis being examined was one she recognised at once, having abandoned it early in her research. If the new team of wizard-scientists put their efforts into pursuing this line, their time would be wasted, their results abysmal. It was the best she could hope for. With the seemingly endless resources available to them, it was still just a matter of time before they'd be able to duplicate her research.

"That's proprietary," said Lucius, reaching around her to close the notebook.

"It's also a gross dereliction of procedure," she informed him. "Research notebooks should be secured in a locked cupboard when not in use."

"Ah, you see why we're eager for your return, Miss Granger?"

"You've hired an entire brains trust to work here. Surely my presence would be superfluous."

"On the contrary, your presence is the only thing we're lacking." He turned away and gazed across the lab, disgust lending a brittle edge to his voice. "I'm told the brightest minds in the world are at work in this room, yet months have passed without the slightest notion of progress. They seem to be missing some critical dynamic."

He turned back and frowned. "And by all accounts, the one component they're missing ... is you."

"I'm sure they'll manage without me ... eventually." Recognising the truth in her statement made her all the more determined to stop it.

"I grow impatient," he stated. "I need you here. Now. Let us find whatever is necessary for you to finish your research."

She shook her head.

He ignored her. "We'll start with money, shall we?" He stated a figure so large she was certain she hadn't heard him correctly.

"Not enough?" he asked when she remained silent. "Double it, then."

"I don't want your money, Mr Malfoy," she told him. Judging from his reaction, he seldom received such a response.

"What do you want, then?" he asked. His gaze swept the room. "The team will be yours to command, and this lab will belong to you...forever." At her puzzled expression, he continued, "It's yours. Do whatever you wish with it. When you leave, you may take everything here with you."

"I can't help noticing your employees are rarely in a position to take anything with them when they leave. Did you make this same offer to Brukowski?"

His expression was guarded. "That's between Mikolaj and the Devil," he replied. "You needn't worry about his fate, Miss Granger. If you return to Arglist, I will personally guarantee your safety and well-being."

She turned away to hide her anger. Did he really believe she'd trust a single word he uttered? His assurances meant nothing, useless promises for a proposition she'd never entertain. He could offer every conceivable enticement, and she would still refuse him. As long as her return meant the end of Muggle-borns, she would never capitulate.

Her hand trailed over one-of-a-kind tools and implements as she walked amongst the shining tables, shaking her head. Many years had passed since her first glimpse of this room. She was no longer naïve...she had paid the price for temptation, having learnt the hard way that Arglist demanded souls in exchange for their Galleons. The generosity was a ruse, a pretty mask to adorn a monster fed by darkness and hatred. She knew all this, and yet ... and yet ... there was still that familiar longing, that pull of desire, filling her with regret. What breakthroughs could she make with these resources at her fingertips? Bitterness flooded her senses, and she railed against Fate for offering such gifts at such an unbearable cost.

Reaching the end of the table, she spun around and met Lucius's hungry gaze. "I'll return with one stipulation," she said.

"Name it."

"Arglist and its subsidiaries must abandon any research harmful to Muggles and Muggle-borns."

He stared at her for several moments before throwing his head back, filling the room with cold laughter. "Do you suppose I'd offer all this simply for your charming personality?"

She held up her hands and pleaded, "Please hear me out, Mr Malfoy. This is an incredible facility, and you've employed the brightest minds available. Just think what could be accomplished with such assets! You could put an end to so much suffering."

His gaze wavered between amusement and disbelief. "Good heavens, Miss Granger, are you honestly trying to convert me?"

"There are serious problems plaguing the world, Mr Malfoy," she continued, undeterred. "Problems we could solve. Never before has there existed such an opportunity to see the benefits of magic and science working in harmony. This ..." she said, gesturing wildly to the lab and its contents, "... This could be the key to everything!"

His continued silence might have meant anything, but she chose to believe it was encouragement and plodded on. "Poverty ... disease ... hunger: these burdens affect wizards and witches as well as Muggles. And just look at the state of the environment! I realise the Muggles are to blame for the rapid destruction of the planet, but we all must live here. If you dedicated even half this facility towards finding solutions, I'm certain we'd have a real chance at success."

She approached him as she spoke, continuing to argue her case. His silence allowed her time to search for angles, to grasp for any means to convince him. "Imagine how amazing it would be if you were the one responsible for such progress. You would be ensuring a better world for your new grandson ... for all future generations of Malfoys."

Drawing nearer, she saw a flicker of something pass before his eyes. She should have realised sooner the power in mentioning his unborn grandson...hadn't Luna just told her how fanatical his dedication was to the baby? Stopping before him, she smiled up into his face, watching for any sign of assent. He seemed excited by her proposal...his eyes glazed with interest. It was more than she had dared hope for.

She had managed to spark an emotional connection, so she shifted her focus to logic. The key was finding a way to appeal to him on his level. She thought of two aspects she had always associated with the Malfoy name: money and power.

"Consider the financial implications," she said. "What price would the nations of the world pay to put an end to these global crises? It could mean great fortune for you."

"I'm already a wealthy man," he said, shifting closer.

She saw the greed in his eyes and knew he desired more, despite his words.

"Yes, of course you are. What about the less tangible benefits, then? Who wouldn't want more respect, more loyalty ..." she paused, considering the obvious danger in tempting him further, then finished, "... more power?"

The greed in his expression grew, darkening with the stain of lust. "Power is always desirable." His voice was no more than a whisper, harsh and breathless. "Tell me."

She licked her lips and tried to navigate the slippery path she'd chosen. This was a risky game, but surely the ends justified the means. "A man who facilitated the end to so much struggling would be a hero unlike any the world has known. No Minister of Magic was ever so powerful...the influence of the entire Wizengamot would pale in comparison."

His breaths were so rapid each whiskey-scented exhalation fanned her hair as he leaned closer. "Yes," he hissed.

He obviously wanted more, and she briefly considered stopping before she promised something she'd regret. But there would be time later to deal with his avarice. Success was in her reach...she just needed his commitment to change the mission of Arglist.

Tipping the scales, she placed a beseeching hand upon his shoulder and said, "You'd be the most powerful man known to either world."

He moved fast, surprising her. In an instant, his arms closed around her, holding her tight while demanding lips covered her face. Her attempts to reach her wand only seemed to increase his ardour. She cursed herself for thinking she could reason with someone whose ideals were so fundamentally different than her own. Anger coursed through her, hot and blinding. Her body shook with rage, the fury so strong it burned a path down her arms and into her fingers. The force of her wrath strengthened while it changed, transforming into raw power that pounded through her in waves, growing too fast to control. The air filled with a crack of thunder as magic burst from her body. Lucius flew backwards, crashing over a table several metres away. By the time he stumbled to his feet, her wand was drawn.

"Enough," he said, raising his hands in surrender.

"Stupefy!" she cried. A bolt of red light shot across the lab, sending him back to the floor.

He remained immobile for several moments. Slowly, he pulled himself into a sitting position, drawing his knee high and resting an elbow upon it. With his other hand, he massaged his chest and glared at her. "Bad form, Miss Granger," he said. "As you see, I am unarmed."

She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth, trying to erase the taste of him. "Bad form, yourself," she bit out. "As you see, I was provoked."

"Fair enough," he said, inclining his head. He continued to rub his chest while assessing her. "Your powers have certainly grown with time. That's an impressive spell to have cast without a wand."

She felt no need to acknowledge his compliment. Her wand still targeted his chest, and she debated what spell to use if he stood again. Flitwick's voice squeaked inside her mind: Never cast in anger, children! She ignored the warning, hardly trusting Lucius's change in tactics.

"May I stand now?" he asked, his tone formal.

"You may." Her fingers twitched on smooth vinewood. A hair-loss curse? The honesty hex, perhaps?

"Thank you," he said and rose to his feet. "You may lower your wand, Miss Granger...I promise to practice restraint. This was hardly my plan for soliciting your return to Arglist."

After several moments and more than a little reluctance, her wand rested at her side. She did not relinquish her grip and hoped he appreciated how easily she'd jinx him again.

"Thank you," he repeated, bowing his head. "Forgive me for taking advantage of the situation. I was simply overcome by your passion."

"I see," she said, crossing her arms. "And did my passion convince you to cease work on your current project?"

His smile spread slowly. With a tilt of his head, he flicked his gaze over her body and replied, "I'm afraid not. But you weren't employing your passion to that end, were you? Perhaps you'd like another opportunity to convince me to reconsider?"

"Perhaps you'd like me to knock you onto your arse again," she said, raising her wand. She found his arrogance just as intolerable as his suggestion.

"If that's the sort of game you enjoy, I suppose I could indulge you."

The dull ache in her head had grown to a steady pounding. "I'm with Severus," she reminded him.

"And you believe Severus deserves your loyalty?" His laughter was chilling. "How delightful!"

"Why wouldn't he?" she asked, not understanding his implication and growing weary of the subterfuge.

With a devious smile, he replied, "Why indeed? He's very good, isn't he?"

First Ron, now Lucius...why was everyone trying to warn her away from Snape today? Her sigh conveyed her annoyance.

"If there's some reason I shouldn't trust Severus, just come out and say it, Mr Malfoy."

"And ruin the fun of your discovery?" he asked, his smile turning cruel. "That would hardly be sporting. You're a bright girl. I'm certain you'll uncover the truth ... sooner or later."

"We're done," she announced and spun on her heel.

Making her way to the executive suites, she heard his footsteps behind her as she neared the door to his office. The knob refused to turn in her hand, resisting the silent Alohomora she cast.

"Allow me," he said, reaching around her. The knob glowed emerald when his hand touched it, and she heard tumblers turning within the lock. He pushed at the door, holding it open with his arm and said, "After you."

Having no desire to brush against him as she navigated the small passage, she pointed inside and said, "You first."

He smirked and entered the office, retrieving her cloak with a flick of his wrist. Ignoring her outstretched hand, he gestured to his desk and said, "Why don't we sit and discuss this as professionals, Miss Granger? Perhaps you'd like to finish your drink?"

She dropped her hand and stared at him. An article of clothing was hardly enough to engender her stay...he could keep the sodding cloak for all she cared. But something else bothered her, and she hesitated. Shaking her head, she spoke slowly.

"No," she said, the simple word protracted with uncertainty.

"No?" he repeated, lifting his eyebrows. "To the drink or to the discussion?"

The urge to leave was overruled by the taste of failure. She had come here with a purpose, yet she was no closer to achieving her goal than she'd been before his appearance at the Silver Chalice. Rather than answer his question, she posed her own into the silence.

"Did you kill Mikolaj Brukowski?"

Surprise crossed his features briefly, replaced by sly appraisal as he approached her. A dark smile played upon his lips and spread across his face like ink bleeding onto parchment. Her stomach twisted when he stopped before her. As if mocking her earlier response, he shook his head in exaggerated slow motion, drawing out the lone syllable of his reply.

"No," he said, holding her gaze and making her realise the folly of such a question. There was only one answer she'd believe, and he was far too cunning to supply it.

He walked around her, draping the cloak over her shoulders before speaking into her ear.

"Consider my offer," he said. Lowering his voice, he amended, "Both my offers."

She moved into the centre of the office before turning back to meet his eyes.

"Never," she said. The room echoed with the force of her conviction.

Deranged anger exploded onto his face, twisting his features and creating an indelible memory as she Disapparated from view.

A/N: Thanks so much to Karelia and little_beloved for amazingly fast beta reading. I am very grateful to everyone who nominated and voted for this story in the OWL Awards!! I cannot express how delighted I was to learn "A Murder of Crows" won third place in the "Best Drama" category. What an honour!