Unlikely Alliances

Chapter 4
Lucius
“I just got a memo from Public Records that you went down there and got a marriage license yesterday.”

I looked up from my papers, took my reading glasses off, and regarded Potter calmly.

“That is correct.”

“You know you have to get authorization for that sort of thing. One of the terms of your custody.”

I folded the ear pieces on my glasses and set them on the desk. Potter seemed irritated; how tragic.

“Weasley authorized it.”

“Then you won’t mind if I talk to her about it.”

“Not at all.” I permitted myself a smirk. “I’m sure you two will have much to discuss.”

Ginny
“Why didn’t you consult me before you authorized Malfoy to get a marriage license?”

Harry has this obnoxious tendency to come into your office and start discussing whatever’s on his mind without making his presence known. It’s very annoying. I almost threw my pen across the room in surprise.

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” I said, attempting to collect myself. “Would you stop doing that?”

“Who’s the woman? Does she check out?”

Harry was in a panic over this, I realized.

“She checks out just fine, Harry,” I said, holding up my left hand. He started to say something, then realized what I was showing him.

“Why?” he asked.

“You told me to keep an eye on him.”

“He didn’t Imperius you or anything, did he? You’re not under duress?” Harry leaned across my desk and grabbed my head, peering into my eyes. I pushed him away.

“No, I am not under duress.”

“Are you sure? He could be slipping something into your food.”

I wasn’t able to get Harry out of my office until lunchtime, so I felt obligated to ask him to lunch. Malfoy gave me a look as I walked past him with Harry. It might have been disgust, but I couldn’t be certain. I turned away from him and pretended to listen intently to what Harry was saying. Something about Oliver getting a pay raise at the Arrows.

At the end of the day, I went down the hall to Malfoy’s office. He was practically buried at his desk, surrounded by papers and books. For a moment I was surprised by the clutter, but then I realized everything was carefully arranged around him. That was more in character; Malfoy had shown himself to be painfully neat. He did not look up as I came in, and I took a moment to watch him work. His brow was furrowed deeply as he bent over a book that had seen better days. He took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“How was lunch with Potter?” he asked. He paused slightly after ‘lunch’ and drew Harry’s name out into a sneer, but his face betrayed nothing.

“I’m not sure he’s convinced you aren’t drugging me.”

“He gives me too much credit.” Malfoy exhaled strongly and seemed to collapse in on himself for a split second. Then he straightened and closed the book in front of him. “I won’t be finished with this for another hour at least,” he said, his tone approaching apology.

“I can go get takeout and come back,” I offered. The muscles in his face twitched toward a smile, but didn’t make it.

“I would suggest you simply go home, but…” He trailed off, gesturing with one hand. I nodded and closed the door behind me.

The filing cabinet next to my desk yielded a change of clothes; I would be out on the Muggle streets, and I wanted to blend. I pulled out a pair of jeans and a nondescript Chudley t-shirt.

“Oh, sorry.” Harry started to back out the door.

“Come on in,” I said. The man was about as straight as a staircase, so being in my underwear around him wasn’t a big deal.

“We’ve gotten an update on your mission,” he said, averting his eyes in the direction of the floor. I took the folder he held out as I pulled on my t-shirt. He looked up.

“Why are you changing clothes?” he asked.

“I have to go pick up dinner for Malfoy.”

“Why?”

“Harry, you sound like a three-year-old. He’s working late, and since I can’t go home without him, I’m leaving him in the office until I can get back. I get dinner, he gets his work done, and he’s not traveling unsecured.”

“Oh.” Harry looked at my clothes and cocked his head like a confused puppy. “Don’t you think wearing a Quidditch shirt is a little suspicious?”

“There’s no brooms or anything on it,” I said defensively, pulling the hem out to look at the shirt. “It’s my favorite. Ron gave it to me.”

“Now who sounds like a three-year-old?”

I snorted and flipped open the folder.

“God,” I breathed, reading through the summary.

“Just call me Harry,” he said, sitting on the corner of my desk. “You can back down if you want. I know your circumstances have changed.”

“No,” I said, closing the folder firmly. “No, I can’t. I’ll be ready. You just have my substitute ready to move into the manor until I get back.”

“Are you sure?”

I looked into his eyes and didn’t flinch, and he took that as his answer. Even the steadiest of us had trouble staring into those eyes, with their eerie phosphorescence and vivid green hue. Harry nodded silently and left. I stared at the folder for a moment, then shoved it into my letter bag. I tugged my hair back into a messy ponytail and set off for the lobby.

The young man behind the counter at the curry place was a wizard; he recognized my shirt and greeted me with the club motto. I smiled and ordered from the faded and torn takeout menu on the wall.

“Working late at the Ministry?” he asked.

“Buried in paperwork,” I said. He smiled and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the counter. Was he hitting on me?

“Must not get much free time.”

“I manage.” I tried to give him the smile that says, you’re cute, but I’m not interested. Then I broke eye contact. Apparently he thought that was coy.

“I bet all the blokes there are really uptight,” he said.

“They can be,” I replied. I gave it a beat, then faked a yawn and covered my mouth with my hand, letting him catch a glimpse of the rock Malfoy had used to stake his claim. The clerk barely batted an eye.

“Your order, mum,” he said. The tips of his ears were red. I thanked him and started the walk back to the Ministry.

Lucius
The hour estimate proved conservative, and I was still grinding away at the report when the clock struck eight. I all but threw my reading glasses at the wall when I heard the hours chime. My eyes felt like someone had dumped sand into them, and I rubbed at them miserably. I picked up my work and slipped it into my briefcase, grabbed my cane, and limped down to Weasley’s office. The more tired I became the more that blasted knee started to ache, and it was throbbing badly as I knocked on her door.

“Finished?” she asked.

“Far from it,” I said wearily. “We should go home. I need some of the books in the library anyway.”

She shouldered her bag and followed me out to the main corridor. I held the door for her and she looked at me oddly.

“What?” I asked, irritable.

“You’re staggering.”

“You would too,” I said. Even I was surprised by the seething anger in my voice. Weasley did not look at me as we rode to the lobby.

When we arrived at home I expected her to say something, but she still did not glance in my direction. I felt my irritation grow and went upstairs to the library, leaving her to do as she damn well pleased. The anger actually aided my work, though it cooled well before I was finished. I completed the last sentence and glanced at the library windows; dawn was approaching the horizon. No time for sleep, then. I went to the guest suite and showered there, so as not to wake Ginevra, and slipped quietly into the master closet to get dressed. There was no reason to rouse her yet. I went down to the kitchen to have a cup of coffee and some breakfast.

It ended up being three cups of coffee before I felt like I was awake enough.

Ginny
I will admit, I was angry. It faded quickly, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. We were both tired and stressed, and with two serious tempers there’s bound to be friction. I wouldn’t cave first.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” I asked, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

“Not a wink.” He looked at me over the newspaper. I met his eye and gave away nothing.

“You’ll work yourself to death,” I suggested.

“There are worse fates,” he murmured, looking back into the paper. I waited to see if there was more, and realized there would be no better time to tell him I was leaving in three days.

“Do you remember when I told you I was leaving on a field mission next month?” I asked.

“Vaguely.”

“Well, the timeline’s been accelerated. I’m leaving next Friday morning.”

He lowered the newspaper; his eyes were piercing.

“You sound nervous.”

“I haven’t been in the field in a while. It’s performance anxiety, that’s all.”

Malfoy’s expression shifted.

“Dangerous, I gather,” he said calmly.

“Not especially,” I lied.

“I see.” He picked up his coffee cup. “I would suggest you be careful, but I cannot ask you to do something so contrary to your character.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“No doubt.” His lips pressed into a hard line. “I don’t suppose you want to tell me the nature of this mission?”

“You’re not authorized,” I said. The crease between his eyebrows deepened slightly.

Lucius
I left it at that, determined not to show weakness by inquiring further.

Staying up all night to finish that report was a mistake; I found myself drifting even before my first meeting at nine. After a quick lunch I locked myself in my office, pulled the blinds over the door, cleared a spot on my desk, and put my head down for a nap. It was not the first time I had done this at the Ministry, but it was certainly the first in five years or more. The forty-five minutes I stole wouldn’t be enough to make up for the previous night, but it was the best I could do.

That night the silence in the elevator was not hostile. I simply could not muster the strength to have a conversation, and Weasley seemed preoccupied, probably by her upcoming field mission. When we arrived home I undressed and crawled between the sheets without prelude, skipping dinner in favor of rest. I woke when Weasley slipped in next to me, murmured something I hoped sounded like “Good night,” and went right back to sleep.

She was gone when I awoke.

On her pillow there was a piece of paper; I picked it up and held it at arms’ length to try and read it.

I called you in sick today. Enjoy the day off, and I’ll be home at the usual time.
Ginny

Oh, and don’t try to leave the grounds. The wards won’t let you.

I sighed and fell back onto my side of the bed.

At noon I woke and took a shower before slipping into some casual robes. I looked at myself in the mirror and was distressed to see the dark rings under my eyes.

“You’re getting old,” I muttered. I pulled my hair back into a thick, damp ponytail.

She had left me lunch in the refrigerator, and I took it into my office. Leaning back in the big chair behind the desk, I dug through the drawers until I located the remote. Narcissa had frowned most exquisitely when I had televisions installed in the house, and insisted they be carefully concealed. Draco had one in his room, dropped down into one of his bureaus. My own emerged from a cabinet in the office when I clicked a button.

It felt nice to just lean back and do nothing. I hardly noticed the hours passing, and when I heard Ginny call my name it surprised me. I turned off the set and it retracted into the cabinet.

“Coming,” I said, picking up my plate.

Ginny
“Hey, you,” I said, as he came down the stairs. “What have you been up to today?”

“No good,” he replied, kissing me. “Thank you for lunch.”

“I wasn’t sure if you would eat otherwise,” I chuckled. He hadn’t shaved that day, and I complained softly as he nuzzled my cheek. “You’re bristly.”

“So I guess that means I shouldn’t grow a goatee again,” he said, rubbing his chin.

“You look like a comic book villain with a beard.”

“That’s either a compliment or an insult,” he mused, taking my letter bag.