The Silver Envelope

Potions and Tricks

Not too long ago, Hermione would have said she trusted Draco implicitly. She wouldn't have spent the afternoon shagging him senseless if she didn't. But now here she was, doubting him after
listening to a radio show hosted by the least trustworthy person she knew.
This had to be Johanna's plan, somehow: force Ignoma to lie on the radio so that Hermione would doubt Draco. Of course. she knew Hermione would never trust Johanna herself. but if the account came directly from Ignoma... well, Hermione wouldn't be able to ignore that. How she had managed to get Ignoma to say those things was a mystery for another time. And why...that was another puzzling mauer.
Hermione took a deep breath. making her decision.
Draco likely hadn't heard about tonight's episode yet. And he wouldn't be home for some time, if Lucius was truly in critical condition. She had time to look into things
Drawing her wand, Hermione walked to the door of Draco's office. It was locked, of course, but the enchantments were fairly straightforward. Bither he wasn't very good at entrance encryption. or, more likely, he simply trusted her not to break in
That thought caused Hermione's breath to catch in her chest, pressing hard against her heart. She knew it was wrong, what she was doing, but there was no other way to be sure.
Once she had undone the locking enchantments, Hermione took a moment to steady herself.
Entering Draco's office meant something. It was a breach of their hard-earned trust. Hopefully, if Draco was the person she thought him to be, he would forgive her.
She turned the handle.
Draco's office was clean, the far end dominated by a large, mahogany desk which faced the door, away from the window. The room was bigger than Hermione had anticipated, with many bookshelves and cabinets running along the walls. A workstation had been set up on the wall adjacent to the desk, where several crystalline instruments for handling chemicals sat, clean and ready for their next use. With her wand, she began to unlock the cabinets and poke around.
Chemicals, odd blocks of dark substances, and various potion ingredients littered the shelves. Most
of them were clearly and innocuously labeled, but a few were mysterious to her.
In the cabinet closest to Draco's desk, she found an experiment involving many vials of odd substances organized in rows, labeled with numbers and alchemical symbols. There must be a ledger, then. Somewhere nearby, explaining what all this was about.
Turning to the desk, she made to look through it. The drawers were, of course, locked.
A sleek, black briefcase sat underneath the desk, she noticed. Picking it up, she tried to open it, pointing her wand at the silver lock under the handle. The moment she did, she regretted it. The enchantments on the briefcase lock were dizzyingly complex. Just the identification phase made her feel nauseous and shaky. Abandoning the briefcase took little effort, as it nearly fell from her fingers the moment she decided to put it down.
If the ledger was in there, she would not get to read it today.
Instead, Hermione turned her attention back to the desk, blinking and shaking her head to rid herself of the lingering effects of the briefcase lock. One by one, she unlocked and opened each drawer, picking through the contents. She told herself she was looking for an explanation for the chemicals, but by the time she reached the bottom drawer on the right and saw what was hiding inside a thick folder stashed underneath a roll of film, a much deeper fear was confirmed.
Full-color photographs of her and Ron at the wedding spilled out onto the desktop. There she was, getting pushed away from him on the dance floor. There he was, leering at some girl walking by. In fact, there were quite a few photos like that, as well as others of Ron scoffing at Hermione or scowling at the sight of her dancing with someone else. Most of these were moments Hermione
either had not witnessed or had not been aware were caught on film. However, there was one photo she remembered had been taken: the one of Ron grabbing her arm in a fit of rage.
That one was missing.
The air in the office suddenly felt horribly thin. Hermione's lungs ached as she desperately tried to suck in oxygen, but it was no use. Her knees felt like jelly, her hands coming to grip the smooth surface of Draco's desk for support as she shook uncontrollably, her breath failing.
No.
no. no. no. no. nonononononono
Gasping, Hermione forced herself upright and stumbled out of the office.
He had kept copies.
And he had used at least one of them.