The Right Thing To Do

Chapter 20

It would be another three weeks before Harry's shift guarding the filing room of the Wizengamot Administration Services office. He refused to switch shifts, as it would arouse too much suspicion. And Harry made it very clear that suspicion would not be tolerated.

"I would not only be fired, I would be put on trial for this, you know."

"We know, we know." Ginny was practically dancing in her chair.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione said. "We've done worse." She winked at him.

"Yes, but that was for good! This is just... selfish."

"Okay," Ginny said. "You go ask Draco Malfoy what his deal is."

Harry rolled his eyes. He told her that it was possible there would be nothing useful left in the Admin office. Once the memories were examined, and final determinations made from them, they were transferred to the Department of Mysteries. You could only retrieve a memory from the Department of Mysteries with the permission of the Minister of Magic.

"But his trial was months ago," Ginny said. "Will there still be memories of his that haven't been reviewed?"

"Oh, yes," Harry chuckled. "We may have magic, but we're still the government. Everything moves slowly. His memories of the night Dumbledore died probably won't be there, probably examined immediately, but anything else pertaining to upcoming Death Eater trials might still be stored."

Hermione nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek. What exactly was it that she hoped to find?

~*~

The next week moved slowly. She only saw Draco twice. Once in the lifts the next day, looking exhausted and gaunt, and again on Friday in the Atrium. He caught her eyes both times, and she looked away.

That Saturday at Cornerstone, Morty brought downstairs a large box, letting her know if she found any extra time, he'd appreciate her stocking the new shipment. She opened the box and found the new Mattie McHandry werewolf book.

She closed her eyes and sighed. After stocking the shelves, she would have to notify those who pre-ordered the book. Including Narcissa Malfoy.

She dilly-dallied. She cleaned. She balanced the books. She tried to chat with the hag who stared at her with wide, violet eyes, and then scuttled away. Finally, she wrote to all others on the pre-order list. Once it was getting closer to five o'clock, she figured there was less of a chance that a Malfoy would stroll into Cornerstone within the next hour.

Morty's owl flew back in through the back window, and Hermione attached the very last letter to her leg. She'd written one letter from Hermione J. Granger, friend of Narcissa Malfoy. She'd crumpled that and tossed it. Then she'd written another from Cornerstone, with a post script from Hermione Granger, wishing Narcissa happy reading. She'd tossed that one, too. She settled on a generic letter, just as the last twenty or so pre-orders had received. There was no indication that the letter was from her, except for the fact that Narcissa knew Hermione's handwriting.

She watched the owl fly off and busied herself, peeking at the new book. Fifteen minutes later, Narcissa's grand owl flew in, dropping a note on the windowsill, and waited.

Hermione snatching up the note, praying that it didn't say "thank you, I'll be right in" or "Draco is going to drop by tomorrow."

Morty,

Thank you very much for letting me know that the McHandry book is in. Please send it back with the owl and bill it to the account.

Narcissa Malfoy