Chapter Text
She needed a cup of coffee. Black coffee, to be exact. It was tiring work, Hermione thought, flipping the page, to organize files at eight in the morning without a decent amount of caffeine. Tucking her disobedient hair behind her ear, she read through the previous day’s reports. She needed to get someone to investigate them almost as much as she needed her coffee.
Looking around for any signs of life, she saw only the freckled little intern they’d recently gotten in the department, Brian or Jerry or Melvin, she thought his name was, and a familiar blond head hunched over a document in his office. She grimaced. Heaven forbid she have to speak to such an absolute bundle of joy (she meant grouchiness) so early in the morning. Well, those handy little lavender airplane memos were there for a reason, she supposed. She wrote him a note.
Malfoy,
There were reports of attacks on some goblins by rogue wizards near London a few days ago. Would appreciate it if you could investigate and forward information. Will owl you more details later.
Granger
P.S. Can you ask that freckled intern to get me a cup of coffee? No sugar. I can’t remember his name and I don’t want to be rude.
The airplane landed on his desk and he smirked at her after reading the note. She rolled her eyes and went to the washroom.
There was a cup of black coffee on her desk when she returned.
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This was starting to get annoying. Hermione had a day-long meeting today and was in a terrible mood. The intern, whose name had been Jerry, according to Malfoy’s reply, had started bringing her coffee every day. She had a sneaking suspicion about who had put him up to it, but she couldn’t say she was wholly unhappy. Malfoy got on anyone’s nerves but could be oddly helpful sometimes.
Straightening her robes and squinting against the glaring sunlight coming in from her window, Hermione made out a note on her desk.
Granger,
Received your owl yesterday. Have looked into the matter. Seems like there’ve been sightings of wizards and witches harming non-magical folk around Glasgow. There may be a connection. I’ve dispatched a few Aurors to track their identities down.
Malfoy
P.S. Your owl is extremely disagreeable. He came in looking very disturbed and nearly bit my finger off when I tried to offer him a biscuit. You should really get owls that don’t mirror your personality.
Hermione took her previous thought back. Malfoy was a git. She took the elevator to her meeting and as the witch’s voice droned on she thought, I really need to clean out Herbert’s cage.
It would probably make him more ‘agreeable’.
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Reading her well-thumbed copy of Hogwarts: A History was a well-deserved break for Hermione. Clearwater was annoying her about those proposals, she needed to finalize those drafts by midnight and maybe her coat was getting a little tight around the middle on account of her new obsession with dark chocolate, but she could always use an expansion spell on that. She leaned back in her armchair.
Then an unexpected lavender airplane descended in her hair. Hermione sat up in alarm and nearly screeched but then relaxed again. It was just Malfoy’s note. She brushed the dust off the paper. They had been having an extremely engaging conversation about Muggle classics. She had been startled, to say the least, when she found out that he had actually read Dickens, and even Jane Austen.
Granger,
Dolohov’s on the move. The Aurors have been tailing him but he moves quicker than they can repair the damage he’s making. His companions haven’t been traced yet but we’re making progress. Will update you by owl later today.
Malfoy
P.S. I still think Carton wouldn’t have done well to end up with Lucie Manette. He’s a drunkard and wastrel and of course he was noble at the end, but he was always just supposed to be a missed opportunity, Granger. It’s symbolic. And why can’t you ever read anything other than that old copy of Hogwarts: A History? I imagine you would have better book taste than to obsess over an old school textbook. Honestly.
Hermione gave his back a disapproving glare and she swore he could see it even though he was working on some files and-- wait. Those weren’t files. It was a well-thumbed, horrendously bookmark-populated copy of-- No.