The Art of The Affair

3

"I got this," he says to the girl in a flat but gentler tone before going back into attack mode.  "Hey, piss off.  Employees only behind the bar."

I know it's him.  I'd only seen a quick flash of his tall, lanky frame and dyed white hair but it had been enough.  I remind myself that I'm an intelligent woman that doesn't belong here, and he does.  The conceited thought puts me in a better mood and I remember that I have no reason to let him push me around in my husband's pub.  

"Does the name Mrs. Ron Weasley count for anything?"

"You're Ron's wife?" the woman asks, relaxing a little.  "Why didn't you say so, I thought you were some nut trying to steal from the till.  I'm Katie.  Nice to meet you."

"Hermione," I say, extending a pleasant smile to her and her only.

I glance over at Malfoy and wait for an apology.  It never comes.  

"What do you want?"

Katie looks uncomfortable and doesn't stick around to hear my reply.  It leaves him and I alone, aside from the eavesdropping customers.  

"If you'd like your paycheck to be on time, maybe you could offer some assistance.  Could you get me a clean cloth or something so I can wipe this down?"

His face is so lean that I can easily see that he's grinding his teeth together at the moment.  He stares down at me as if he's trying to intimidate me and then finally clomps off to grant my request.  He returns and tosses a bar towel down onto the bar in front of me, and then asks a man a few stools down if he wants another pint.  I wipe the bar down with the dry towel but it slides smoothly, indicating that it was already dry and clean.  I keep this realisation to myself - refusing to give him the satisfaction - and set my purse down so I can find my phone.  Once I do, I dial Ron up and take a couple of calming breaths.

Ron can really grind my gears sometimes, especially when I feel more like his mother than his wife, but no one on this planet has ever pissed me off the way Malfoy does.

"What's up, trouble already?"

"The key won't fit."

"Oh damn it, I forgot to tell you.  You have to work it up and down and turn the handle.  Ask Draco, he knows how to get that blasted thing to work.  I don't think Jason's working tonight."

Jason is the manager, someone I've not personally met since Ron hired him a year ago.  I silently curse my bad luck and decide to take my chances at getting into the office on my own.  I thank him for the tip and end the call.  I'm eager to get into the office and see what kind of cleaning I need to do before I can get started on what I'm here to accomplish.

I slide my phone back into my pocket and push up the sleeves on the crocheted jumper Ron's mother made me a few years ago.  It isn't my first choice to wear someplace where I already feel like an uncool middle-aged woman and it's also summertime, but Ron warned me that it would be chilly in the office.  So far, I was sure he'd pranked me about the air conditioning, as it was anything but cold in here tonight.

When I insert the key this time, I follow Ron's tips and hope for the best.  The knob remains in the locked position, denying me entry a second time.  Rather than look stupid to my husband, my stubbornness kicks in and I begin to get a little aggressive with both the key and the knob.  I'm beginning to sweat a little and I'm almost ready to start cursing under my breath, but I don't give up until I very nearly can't get the key out again.  When I finally do, I decide my pride isn't worth having to pay for a locksmith.  My shoulders slump a little as I make my way back over to the bar.  

Of course, Malfoy ignores me.  Katie understands what's happening - bless her - and calls Malfoy over.  He gives me an icy side-eye and takes his time finishing with ringing up the tab he's working on, and then slowly walks to my end of the bar.  He lays his palms down and leans forward, silently waiting for me to speak first.

"Are you any good at picking locks?"

His eyes narrow and I try hard not to smirk.  I've indirectly insulted him and he knows it, but it's deserved.  When he doesn't answer, I decide I'd rather be in my office than messing with him.

"I need you to get this key to work.  Ron said you can do it."

I don't hand him the key.  I place it on the bar and he picks it up and starts for the office door.  I try to observe his technique, but it feels like he's purposefully obstructing my view.  He gets it open quickly and without incident, and I have no idea how.  He leaves the key in the doorknob and goes back to work.  

I try to pull the key out of the knob but it's stuck.  A strand of hair falls loose from the messy bun I'd twisted my long thick curls up into this morning, having been battered by the windy conditions outside a bit ago on my way in.  I blow it harshly away from my face and let out a frazzled groan.  I'm going to have to ask him for help, yet again.

It goes the same as it did the first time.  He refuses to speak, makes it look easy, and I have no idea how he did it.  

I work out my frustrations by tidying up the office.  I go in search of supplies and bags for throwing out items, but otherwise don't come out for most of the evening.  In between my cleaning and tossing, I keep a watchful eye on the monitor that's feeding video from the security camera aimed toward the bar.  I'm impressed watching Katie and Malfoy work.  I hear all of the signs that people are enjoying themselves and the place seems to be a well-oiled machine.  

Malfoy doesn't treat Katie the way he does me.  He doesn't laugh or smile.  He doesn't joke around or make idle chit-chat.  But he at least speaks to her, and he isn't mean about it.  And as much as I hate to admit it, he could run this place with one hand tied behind his back.  I don't know where he comes from or what his story is, and I don't care.  So long as he continues to be reliable and efficient, I'll just have to deal with the fact that he doesn't like me.  

The feeling is mutual.