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A/N: This was written for the first ever LM/HG exchange for Shiv5468. My undying thanks to betas of dreams DreamyDragon and Persevero for some extremely spectacular work under the duress of constant hunger from food porn. Kudos as well to BlueParis for advice on hand-to-hand combat. Prompts will be listed after the last chapter.

Disclaimer: Characters and world are the property of J.K. Rowling. No money made here.

Hermione cracked one eye open and surveyed her surroundings. Nimue's knickers, it wasn't a nightmare. She barely suppressed a groan as she thought over the events of the previous day.

She cursed the brashness typical of her Hogwarts house. Harry rushed into situations with no regard for personal safety. Ron handled emotional situations with all the grace of a gazelle with four left feet. Her own Gryffindorness seemed to have manifested itself in blundering into situations, opening her mouth when she ought not to, revealing rather more information than appropriate, and now, apparently, cursing under duress.

She'd ignored Malfoy's look of shock, but had certainly seen it. She sniggered to herself. He'd been utterly appalled at the notion of her propositioning him for sex the moment she'd been trapped in a room with him. She'd probably only reinforced Malfoy's opinion of Muggle-borns as crass, uncouth creatures unfit to walk outside in the daylight.

Not that she wasn't crass and uncultured on occasion. One did not work in the Auror department without, at the very least, developing a healthy respect for anyone who could belch the words to seventeen naughty limericks and flip Butterbeer caps into glasses ten metres away. It was either that or lose one's sanity. Also, she rather liked to think she'd learned not to get her knickers in a twist over every little social impropriety.

Really, if she were honest, a half-day of cohabitation with Lucius Malfoy hadn't been nearly as onerous as she would have thought. She'd half-expected near-constant whingeing and protests about sharing the same loo. That was certainly what the younger Malfoy would have done. Thank Merlin, father and son were cut from different, though undoubtedly expensive, cloth.

Hermione wondered how long she could just lie in bed, pondering the intricacies of their situation before she had to face Malfoy. Surely, there were theories to consider, lists of suspects to contemplate. Of course, once her brain was fully engaged and functioning, she'd naturally want her notes. She tried not to sigh. It seemed getting up was the only option. She rolled over and was just sitting up when she noticed Malfoy sitting at her desk.

'What are you doing at my desk?' she blurted before she could censor herself.

'Your desk, Auror Granger?'

'Well, my notes are there. You're not looking through them, are you?' She craned her neck.

'You're rather quick to condemn me, Auror Granger,' Malfoy replied, turning to face her and making a show of the book he was reading.

'Oh. Yes, perhaps I was too hasty.' She diverted her eyes and glanced around the room. 'Have you had breakfast yet?' Hermione's stomach rumbled loudly; the cheese sandwich the night before had satisfied her hunger as well as a slab of oily cheese between two pieces of white bread could. The empty pit of her stomach threatened to swallow the rest of her. She rose from the bed and stretched.

'I have had coffee, but no breakfast,' Lucius replied, raising a mug.

Hermione glanced at the still-empty table. The room did not pick up on subtlety, it seemed. 'I'm hungry,' she stated flatly.

The plate on Hermione's side of the table instantly filled with her usual fare: a slice of whole wheat toast, blackcurrant jam, a banana, and some melon, along with tea. She sat down and added a dash of milk with one sugar before tucking in. Riveted to her own food, it was several moments before she looked across the table at Lucius.

He was entirely surrounded by an army of serving platters, carafes, and little dishes of sauce. She watched as he drizzled Hollandaise sauce over a poached egg. He spread crème fraîche onto a perfectly toasted slice of berry-filled bread. He ate slowly, savouring each morsel. Hermione thought she heard a sigh of contentment as he swallowed a bite of sausage.

His gaze left his plate and flickered to hers. 'Is there a problem with your food, Miss Granger? You've hardly eaten a bite.'

'Oh, I'm just trying to determine the country of origin of various portions of your breakfast.'

'And would you like me to enlighten you?' he asked, eyeing her meagre breakfast with a smirk.

'Yes, humour me please,' she said, spreading the blackcurrant jam on her toast.

'The raspberry and violet jam is from Iffendic. The honey is spring honey from Corsica. The pâtisseries come from a little bakery in wizarding Paris. The sausage hails from the Cévennes.' Lucius continued for several moments.

Hermione shook her head, chuckling. 'You're the only person I know who can eat a Full English without taking a single bite of food from England.'

Lucius's laugh was barely audible before he took a bite of his egg, smearing the sauce and yolk with a triangle of wheat bread.

Hermione shook her head. 'And you require all this for breakfast?'

'Why, Miss Granger, it is the most important meal of the day.'

She hadn't thought it possible to smirk while eating, but Lucius seem to manage it with little effort.

Trust Lucius Malfoy to require a breakfast that probably cost more Galleons than her breakfast, lunch, and dinner combined. She ate the last of her meal and set the cutlery on her plate.

'Mr Malfoy, I was thinking that we may have got off to a bad start yesterday.'

Malfoy inclined his head as he finished chewing. 'Perhaps you are right, Miss Granger. If we are going to be stuck here for any length of time, I suppose it would be wise to put aside our differences.'

'Excellent, Mr Malfoy. Just a moment.' She scurried to her desk, asked the room for a chair, and grabbed the sheaf of parchment she'd organised the night before. She beckoned for him to join her. 'I was actually hoping to spend a good portion of the morning asking you some questions about assorted individuals from your past, so I can determine who has imprisoned us.'

'Certainly, Auror Granger. I would expect to be peppered with questions about my former associates.'

Hermione looked up to glare at him, but was shocked to see what appeared to be a genuine smile...well, to be accurate a slight quirk of his lip...that lit up his eyes. Lucius Malfoy? Teasing her with affection? What was in that coffee?

'Right,' she said as she shuffled her notes, pulling out the parchment for suspects. 'Well, it's very important that you keep your mind open as I ask these questions. Clues sometimes come from the oddest places, and I prefer to have a questioning style which encourages free association.' Oh, Merlin, I sound like a swot, don't I?

Lucius's posture had shifted from his relaxed breakfast laze to ramrod straight.

'Mr Malfoy, I have no ulterior motive in revisiting your past. I simply wish to find out who is keeping us here.'

Really, she hadn't any need to dig into Lucius's past. One week during last year's summer hols, when even criminals were on holiday, but Junior Aurors were practically chained to their desks, she'd been bored out of her skull and had read through most of the trial testimonies of assorted Death Eaters, ex-Death Eaters, and suspected sympathisers. She had paid close attention to all of the Malfoys' trials and couldn't help but be genuinely sympathetic to their case. Despite her cranky accusations the day before, she fully recognised Lucius's devotion to his family. Perhaps, that would be a good point to begin their conversation.

'Okay, well let's start with topics that should be fairly easy to discuss. How would you describe your relationship with your wife?'

'Auror Granger, I highly doubt Narcissa is behind this.'

'I understand, Mr Malfoy, but first of all, I need to consider all suspects, and secondly, our discussion may lead us to helpful information even if someone isn't a suspect.'

Lucius shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 'This is a highly personal topic, and I would rather not divulge this information....'

Hermione tried to quell her mounting frustration, 'Mr Malfoy, interviews of this nature are hardly ever pleasant, but if you protest every question that will only extend the duration and agony of my questioning.'

Malfoy heaved a long-suffering sigh and glared at her as he contemplated his response.

Merlin, does every man need to be treated like a five-year-old? Hermione wondered as she assessed his body language. Today would truly be agonizing if she couldn't get the man to relax and answer her questions.

'Narcissa has filed for divorce,' Malfoy ground out. 'Our solicitors are resolving some of the final details. I expect a signed decree any day.'

Hermione looked up, brows raised and her mouth forming a silent "Oh". Not that she really followed the Prophet, but Hermione couldn't help wondering how Malfoy had kept this quiet. As much as members of her department enjoyed harassing both elder and younger Malfoy, surely her gossip-mongering co-workers would have mentioned this.

'You're wondering why you've not heard of this? Our solicitors are bound to our confidence, and both Narcissa and I are able to keep our affairs discreet.'

Hermione was scribbling a note to follow up on their solicitors when Malfoy's last words arrested her. 'Affairs?'

'Narcissa and I have long had a rather open arrangement. However, it seems she's found someone she deems a more suitable long-term partner.'

She bit her tongue to avoid asking the obvious question...best to let Malfoy make his admissions at his own pace. She watched him fidget in his seat.

'Do I really have to tell you who?' Malfoy asked petulantly. At last, he continued, 'Heathcote Barbary.'

Hermione quickly flipped through her mental Rolodex and came up empty. 'Should I know who that is?'

'You must not read the Daily Prophet or Witch Weekly, Auror Granger.'

'Please, just stop calling me that. The title rather chafes these days.'

There, that should pique his curiosity. Besides, Hermione thought as she recalled Shacklebolt's Semi-annual Seminar on Studying Subjects and Suspects, it's usually beneficial to develop a rapport with the victim of the crime. Not having the term 'Auror' introduced every five minutes should relax things a bit.

Malfoy sighed impatiently. 'Miss Granger, are you honestly telling me you don't know who Heathcote Barbary is?'

'Erm, yes.'

'He's a guitarist for the Weird Sisters.'

No wonder Lucius looked like he'd swallowed a case of sherbet lemons. Bested by someone younger, thinner, and with thicker hair. 'Oh. Well, I suppose that's better than Stubby Boardman.'

Malfoy's glare could have cut through six hundred metres of ministerial red tape. 'Would you like me to continue? If not, I'm sure the room will provide me with additional reading material.'

'I apologise, Mr Malfoy. I didn't mean to make light of your situation. How did Narcissa make Mr Barbary's acquaintance?'

'Our experience with,' Malfoy paused as his gaze flickered across her face, 'the Dark Lord left Narcissa on edge and eager to escape the Manor. His presence tainted nearly every room. In addition, seeing her sister's gradual mental decay left her rather paranoid about her own mental health. She spent the majority of the two years following the Dark Lord's defeat in the French Riviera. She met Mr Barbary while the group was in the area working on material for their next album.' At the word album, Lucius sneered as if producing a wizarding rock album was roughly on a par with cleaning her Kneazle's litter tray sans magic.

'I see. Why didn't you accompany her to the Riviera?'

'Initially, I needed to stay to restore many of our business accounts and contacts, which had deteriorated while our home was occupied. I oversaw the renovation of the Manor so that when Narcissa returned the traces of its occupation would be diminished. After several months, she wrote asking me not to join her.'

As Malfoy continued talking, Hermione began to wonder if this was the first time he had discussed the situation with anyone. As reluctant as the man was to begin talking about it, she now could scarcely get a word in edgewise. He didn't exactly seem broken up about it, but the entire situation was turning rather bizarre. Most disconcerting was the fact that he was not behaving to type. This was no Slytherin playing his cards close to his chest. No, Lucius Malfoy was sharing more information than Hagrid under the influence of Veritaserum.

Lucius spoke quite freely about the end of his marriage: the nature of Narcissa's communications (cordial, and disgustingly in love); what details were being argued by the solicitors (surprisingly not Galleons, just visitation schedules for future grandchildren and a particular villa in the Italian countryside); and, at great length, how he felt about the entire ordeal (quite miffed since Narcissa had been a cold fish for the last eight or so years). The man wasn't foolish enough to maintain that theirs had been anything other than a marriage engineered for political gain, which had perhaps outlived its usefulness. Still, he was clearly not pleased about the public scrutiny that was certain to erupt once Witch Weekly sighted Narcissa on Heathcote's arm.

Eventually, the conversation shifted from Narcissa to Draco. It became rather apparent in short order that the son was no more likely to be culpable than the soon-to-be-ex-wife.

Hermione resisted every urge to move the conversation along from her obnoxious, former classmate. While The Daily Galleon may have found it fascinating that Draco had taken over the day-to-day operations of Lucius's foreign estates, she certainly had no desire to be brought up to date on the latest aspects of Draco's life. She sighed. It was altogether likely that they'd been kidnapped by someone Draco had double-crossed. And with Lucius increasingly distancing himself from the family business, he would have little, if any, information on their captor.

She stifled a yawn and glanced at the clock. The entire morning's conversation wasn't exactly on target with how she wanted to conduct the interview, but there was little time left until lunch, and she was unlikely to wring any other details out of Lucius before then.

Better to encourage his uncharacteristic openness. If he was still cooperating, she hoped to broach more challenging topics after their meal. Besides, not that she would ever admit it out loud, it was quite pleasing to watch the way Lucius's countenance softened when he spoke so warmly about his family, even despite Narcissa's defection.

She was watching that face attentively when she suddenly realised he had ceased speaking and was staring at her. Quickly looking down, she scribbled something on her parchment in the hope it would appear she'd been pondering something of great import.

'I'm sorry, Lucius, I was considering something you'd said earlier about Draco's business dealings. Perhaps now would be a good time to break for lunch.'

Lucius's mouth twitched infinitesimally. 'Yes, I believe I've said that already and have taken the liberty of calling for our meal.'

'Oh. Er, thanks.'

She tried not to salivate or dance with joy at the sight of the table. Her sandwich! Goat cheese with roasted aubergines and courgettes! A pile of crisps! Perhaps yesterday's ravenous hunger would abate after another meal or two.

Walking, not scampering, to the table, she wondered at the country of origin of Lucius's midday meal. It seemed to be a simple bowl of stew and a hunk of bread, but she knew it could not be so simple. Lucius must have seen her eyeing it. 'Have you ever had Waterzooi, Hermione?'

'I have not. What is in Waterzooi? Where is it from?'

'It's a chicken stew from Ghent.'

Hermione smiled as she swallowed her first bite of ginger-poached pear. 'And let me guess, you had the ingredients imported from Belgium. Are you determined to eat a different country's cuisine at every meal?'

Lucius chuckled as he broke off a chunk of bread. 'Merely taking advantage of our accommodations. Our captors have inconvenienced both of us, so they may as well be troubled for our keep.'

Hermione laughed and shook her head. Perhaps, assuming he could keep meat off the menu, she should consider letting Lucius write her order for tomorrow.