Blood of Mud, Wing of Bat

Chapter 13: Beeswax

After the tan-robes were gone, a profusely apologetic Jones cleared the table and brought new tea, including a small pot of sugar with a spoon in it.

Malfoy slumped there unmoving, elbows on table, head in hands. His clothes were badly rumpled up and his pale hair straggled in all directions. Smoke drifted around him from the Pepper-Up potion the Aurors had forced down his throat after they managed to revive him. He hadn't so much as acknowledged Hermione's presence since they'd dumped him there. At first she'd thought he felt too unwell to interact with anyone just yet, but after enough time had passed she realized he was just leaving it up to her to re-initiate their conversation.

She was having a difficult time deciding what to say.

"Look… I'm sorry," she said finally, breaking the silence. "Arthur was just trying to protect me. Meddling where he didn't belong. I had no idea it would get so out of hand or I would have owled him and made him send them away as soon as they arrived."

"Don't flatter yourself," he muttered. He removed his hands and pulled himself up straight, and she could see that he was mostly OK, just worn out. "If you had not been on hand, they would have found some other excuse."

He was probably right, but since she wouldn't know that if she hadn't been spying on him, she couldn't really say so. Instead she said, "if you want to stop now and continue this tomorrow, I would understand completely. You should probably get some rest - five Stupefies can't be good for a person."

"There were five?" He looked unsettled for a moment, then his expression became scornful. "I suppose I should be flattered that they think me so dangerous. At any rate, I am perfectly fine. I do need to go clean up a bit, however. I will be back momentarily."

"Of course," said Hermione. She watched him rise to his feet and wend his way between the now-empty tables and disappear into the men's loo. (It was labeled "Buoys"; the women's was labeled "Gulls".) She wished she could spy on him, but there was no way to change into her fly form now without people noticing. Not to mention, it wouldn't look too good if she couldn't switch back in time and he returned to find her missing.

While he was gone, she picked up the Knowitall ball she'd given him and added a copy of the events that had happened while he was knocked out. It was the least she could do.

When Malfoy returned some fifteen minutes later he appeared greatly improved. His hair and robes were in perfect order, he had a better color to him, and he looked dramatically less tired than before. Hermione wondered if he had cast dozens of tiny glamour charms to fix the details of his appearance or if he'd somehow gotten his hands on an energy potion instead. She rather hoped it wasn't the latter; after everything else his body had been through today the last thing he needed was more junk in his system.

"I took the liberty of adding to the Knowitall while you were away," she said as he sat down. "I thought you might like to see what happened while you were unconscious."

He eyed the Knowitall Ball suspiciously and picked up his tea instead.

"I haven't boobytrapped it or anything," she said. "I didn't do anything to your tea either," she added.

A look of horror flitted across his face and he put the tea down hurriedly, but it was too late since he'd already drunk out of it. That was exactly the kind of mistake Arthur and the others were counting on him to make more and more often as the pressure mounted. She remembered his getting the name of his boat wrong when talking to Vincent Crabbe earlier in the day. The harassment was working. If Malfoy did have something to hide, it was going to be impossible to avoid incriminating himself for much longer.

For the first time, Hermione realized that it was actually possible Malfoy might be arrested and thrown in Azkaban before she could successfully finish her assignment. That wasn't a very encouraging thought.

"You use it first," he said, indicating the Knowitall Ball lying innocently on the table.

"All right," said Hermione. "It's quite safe." She took the ball and held it cupped in her hands, concentrated on a simple question about manufacturing procedures. Her own words began to flow quickly into her mind in answer, and images played forth within the ball itself.

After a few moments she looked up and saw that Malfoy's suspicion had vanished with the demonstration, replaced by eagerness to access the ball's contents himself. She allowed her connection to the ball to fade and then handed it to him. She noticed he was careful not to touch her fingers. She also noticed that the ball looked much better cradled in his long, elegant hands than it had in hers. It was no longer a blank ball of glass - it was a magic orb, alive, mysterious, aglow with hints of reflected inner light. Hermione filed that away in her well-organized brain under "Advertising and Marketing". Hands. Maybe old Trelawney wasn't so crazy after all.

Malfoy closed his eyes and concentrated. He looked like he was making a wish. When he opened his eyes again he looked into the ball, and Hermione could see that he had successfully retrieved the scene with the Aurors. Most people had to work harder than that to get anything out of a near-stranger's ball. She would like to think that he'd had an unusual amount of experience using Knowitall Balls or had a touch of Divination ability, but it was most likely simply because he believed so strongly.

She watched as he viewed the recording she'd made. A corner of his mouth quirked up slightly during the beginning part where Hermione had given the Aurors a piece of her mind. She'd started with the two who were "protecting" her, then worked her way up the chain of command berating and castigating and threatening each one, until they finally agreed to summon their head supervisor Mr. Bancroft to the scene.

However, when he reached the part where she had finally managed to go over and have a closer look at his unconscious body, the hint of a smirk vanished and he turned pale. Hermione didn't blame him; it hadn't been a pretty sight. He'd already been searched by then, his robes mussed and half-undone, his pockets emptied. The search had exposed a pendant attached to a platinum-and-sapphire chain around his neck. The pendant itself was a heavy, flat, snowflake-cut crystal with lines of light crawling slowly through it like half-frozen electricity. The Aurors who'd performed the search were arguing about the pendant. They wanted to take it for evidence, but if it was the Memoralias charm it resembled then it couldn't be legally removed, tampered with or searched unless they had a warrant to search his memories.

Hermione could tell at first glance it was definitely a Memoralias charm, designed to keep a backup copy of the wearer's newly acquired memories. The wearer could then access the stored memories as easily and naturally as if they were his own, which came in handy if the wearer forgot an important detail or was memory-charmed by someone. Memoralias charms were most often used covertly during meetings and other events that weren't supposed to be recorded using regular methods. However, they could also be abused by wearing them constantly for days or even weeks at a time. She could easily see why Malfoy might be tempted to do that: nobody could survive on two- and three-hour naps for months on end without their memory being shot to pieces. And no one could maintain a tightrope walk like Malfoy's if he kept forgetting all the details. Unfortunately, the charm was much less secure than a person's own memories. There were many easy ways to extract the memories using countercharms or curses or even various objects like pensieves. Almost anything would work so long as the wearer was still wearing the charm and not actively fighting the extraction. For example, if he were asleep or unconscious.

Luckily, Mr. Bancroft arrived before the tan-robes could make any further errors in judgment. He, at least, was smart enough to know when to stop digging. He ordered them to cease their search and put all of Malfoy's possessions back. About halfway through that process, who should show up but Nesbitt and Benkmann from Special Ops. Cheerfully ignoring Bancroft's attempts to get rid of him, Nesbitt watched the tan-robes re-stocking Malfoy and offered many helpful if infuriating comments. He seemed to know an awful lot about which pockets Malfoy kept what in, and how to properly re-install his spare in its elaborate quick-release harness.

Then they did the five Finite Incantatums required to remove the five Stupefies, and Malfoy failed to regain consciousness. Nesbitt laughed his arse off and refused to leave even after Bancroft resorted to swearing at him. Bancroft kicked the rest of the tan-robes out which made it all the more obvious that there were a small number of actual customers of Segal's Roost there watching with great interest. After Bancroft cast Ennervate on Malfoy with no visible effect, two or three of the other diners got up and came over to offer genuinely well-meant suggestions in counterpoint to Nesbitt's amused ones. The increasingly frazzled Bancroft tried Ennervate again, still with no luck, and then finally let Nesbitt give it a try. Deriding Bancroft for being "timid", Nesbitt gave Malfoy a third Ennervate right between the eyes, then grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently until he was awake.

The Pepper-up potion was the idea of one of the bystanders who had dug it out of her purse. It was administered forcibly and with great difficulty by Bancroft, who appeared anxious to prove he was not "timid".

Finally they left Malfoy to Hermione and Jones, but not before Nesbitt had to prevent Bancroft from trying to Obliviate Malfoy of the entire incident.

"He wears a Memoralias charm, lackwit! You do that, and he'll remember everything anyway, plus there will be a retrievable recording of your trying to Obliviate him that he can use against you in court."

Bancroft could not argue with that, so they parted ways with Malfoy's memory left intact.

Malfoy put the Knowitall Ball down, frowning. He looked even more tired than before, Pepper-up potion or no.

"That is a Memoralias charm you're wearing, isn't it?" she said.

He glared at her and his hand flew to his throat, maybe to check that the pendant was safely out of sight. "No," he said firmly. "It isn't."

Hermione wanted to argue, but at that moment Jones arrived with their food.

"Butterfly Pasta," said the undercover Auror, placing a large plate in front of Hermione. "And the Lark's Tongue Pie for you Mr. Malfoy. Will there be anything else right away?"

"Not for me, thank you," said Hermione. Malfoy looked like he wanted Jones to stay, perhaps in the interest of indefinitely postponing further interaction with Hermione, but reluctantly shook his head no as well.

After Jones had gone, Malfoy avoided looking at Hermione and instead concentrated on his food. She speared a butterfly with her fork and chewed thoughtfully as she watched Draco devour his meal. Was he always this ravenous or had he been starving himself? Or maybe getting knocked around by Aurors was especially hungry work. She wondered if he'd have such an appetite if he knew Jones was an Auror too. Probably not.

"How long have you been wearing it?" she asked.

The busy silverware stopped and his pale eyes darted warily to hers.

"Wearing what?"

"The Memoralias charm. You know, it wasn't really designed to be worn all the time," she said. "There can be some nasty side effects. It can create a dependency where your own memory gets less and less reliable. Also, if the charm is damaged or removed from your person, the memories will be lost. The longer the charm has been worn, the more problems losing the memories will cause. And it's way too easy to break into - if Bancroft and those fellows from Special Ops hadn't come along when they did, the tan-robes probably would have rummaged through it."

"I am well aware of the limitations of Memoralias charms, Weasley," said Malfoy coldly. "And I suggest you confine your meddling to areas you're being paid for."

Hermione took that to mean that he had been wearing it for far longer than was wise. She sighed to herself. At the current rate of abuse, it was going to be a miracle if his mind and body lasted long enough to see his company succeed.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to pry. It's just that if you are to take Mr. Batten's place you will need your health and faculties intact. It's going to be a terrific battle as it is -- you've never run a manufacturing operation before, and you have no experience in this particular industry, and you're going into it with the entire company against you."

Malfoy scowled but did not try to argue that, instead digging into his food again.

"Why did you decide to do something with Batwing?" she asked curiously. "You must know by now that it's a nearly impossible challenge. As companies go it's in poor shape, and you don't have a lot of cash to inject into it, and the company's employees don't have a lot of faith in you. It's not going to be easy to overcome all of that."

"Why I want to do it is not important," he said without meeting her eyes.

"Actually, it is," said Hermione. "It's important that you made the decision for the right reasons and that you're being realistic about what you want to have happen."

"Maybe I don't want to discuss it," he said.

She tried to meet his eyes but he steadfastly refused to look at her.

"You don't have to go into detail," she said, "just give me a general idea...."

Now he did look up, his eyes narrow and ruthless.

"Because it's what I want. Now drop it."

Hermione was surprised by his venomous response to what she thought was a perfectly reasonable question. "Malfoy, I'm here to help you run your business more effectively. We're not going to get that done until you can be honest to me and yourself about your reasons for doing things, and whether they're justified or perhaps need rethinking." She folded her napkin and patted butterfly scales off her lips. "It's quite possible that you'd be better off selling Batwing at a small loss now, rather than losing even more money on it later."

"No, I think I'd be completely fucked if I sold now," he snarled.

Hermione sighed. "That's not immediately obvious from my point of view. Maybe I could help you better if I understood why you have no choice."

They stared at each other for long moments, Hermione trying to look as pleasant as possible, Malfoy looking positively murderous. Finally, he looked down and shoved his plate away from himself.

"Maybe you could," he muttered. "But you'll learn to work around it if you know what's good for you."

It was clear that Malfoy had drawn a line and was refusing to cross it. If even Trelawney was unable to get that information from him, he must be pretty sincere about keeping his secret. Hermione decided to let the matter lie for now.

"OK," said Hermione, "if you really can't tell me, then you can't."

"It's not that I can't, I just won't," he said.

"Then you won't," she repeated.

"It's none of your business," he said.

"Fine," said Hermione, starting to get upset. Why did everything have to be so damn confrontational with Malfoy? And it was her business. Very much so.

Hermione counted to twenty-five, then took a deep breath. "OK," she said, her voice bright and professional again. "Then let's talk about scheduling."

Malfoy scowled but voiced no objection. She took that as an invitation to continue.

"Batwing runs three full shifts, with the first shift starting at 7AM and running until 3PM. Most of the upper management is there for that shift. The heaviest manufacturing and most of the shipping happens during the second shift. Based on that, I think you will want to arrive by 6AM so you can speak with the third shift supervisors and you'll want to leave after most of the shipping is over with at 8PM. Does that sound right to y...." She paused when she registered the expression of absolute refusal on his face. "What's wrong now?"

"First of all," he said primly, "I am not accustomed to working before 10:30AM. Secondly, I already have an obligation to the Ministry from 10:30 until 4PM every weekday. I don't intend to miss any more after today. Thirdly, I am a member of various boards and societies whose meetings tend to be in the evening and it would be political suicide to stop attending those. Fourthly, I have never worked weekends and do not intend to begin. And fifthly, if I did go to Batwing at 6AM every day I would never get any sleep. I do value my sleep, Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione didn't try to hide her confusion. "Then when were you planning on being at Batwing?"

"I was not planning on being there at all after this," he said disdainfully. "That is what you are for."

She stared at him for a moment, taken aback. "I'm here to offer you advice on how to run your company, Mr. Malfoy, not to run it for you," she said.

"For what you're being paid, you'll give your advice to my vice-presidents in my stead or Trelawney will hear of it," he said sharply.

Hermione was coming to realize that Malfoy's famed ability to provoke violent response in people was no joke. He needed her help, he'd admitted to Trelawney he needed it badly, and to all appearances he was desperate to make Batwing work out as a company. So why was he giving her such a hard time? Was he just naturally bull-headed, or did he hate her so much that this was the best he could do in terms of having a normal conversation with her?

Unfortunately, however, his instincts were probably right. She didn't think he was really capable of taking old Mr. Batten's place. He didn't have the skill-set, and just by being himself he was sure to antagonize Batwing's management. In fact, it would be a miracle if he hadn't done so already… repeatedly. On top of all that, he clearly didn't have the time to spend on the project.

But - and this was a big but - there wasn't anyone else available. There was no money to hire a CEO or raise one of the VPs up to it. Certainly she couldn't do it; the employees would see her as Malfoy's goon whether he was there or not. She wouldn't get any more respect than she'd already seen from that receptionist witch. And from an entirely objective angle, it wasn't really in Malfoy's interests to have a Weasley on the inside of his operations, or for his operating officer to be anything other than 100% loyal to him on a more-than-business level.

She sighed.

"I'm sorry… look, I don't want you to think I'm refusing to help you in any way, because I'm not. But Mr. Batten ran his company directly. He made the major decisions and his vice presidents simply carried out orders. That's what the company is currently set up for, and those are the shoes you will have to fill unless you are prepared for a major restructuring."

Malfoy shifted about uncomfortably but said nothing. Hermione forged ahead.

"What I'm trying to say, is you're your own best resource when it comes to Batwing. Think about it. Old Mr. Batten had everything you have to work with: the same people, the same market, the same procedures. Nothing has changed. And, he had decades of experience at it. There's only one advantage you have over him, that might make the difference between success and failure, and that's you. Without you, Batwing is doomed to failure, because not only will the problems not be changed, it is missing Batten now too -- its driving force, its leader and motivator and decision maker."

Malfoy opened his mouth to protest, but she raised a hand.

"I realize you have other obligations -- to the Ministry, to others -- but think about it. Why do all those societies and organizations want you around? Because you're a valuable resource. Naturally they would want someone of your, er, leadership ability working with them."

Actually Hermione suspected he'd probably gotten onto all those boards and committees through arrogant bullying, trickery, and deceit. They probably only put up with him because they were afraid of him and his reputation, or because they were too stupid to realize what they had allowed into their midst. Fortunately he didn't have a lie detector or Sneakoscope in his pocket; she'd gotten a pretty good look at his possessions when the Aurors had them all out on a table.

"You've managed to gain yourself a pretty good position in the Ministry and hold onto it for years, as well," she added. "Obviously Mr. Patterson has a very good reason for keeping you in Supernatural Relations, or you would have been gone long ago."

"It's bec-" he began, but Hermione cut him off, fearing it would turn out bribes or blackmail were involved.

"But the Ministry is taking up all the best hours of your workday," she said. "During the best years of your life. Is that really where all your energy should be going? Into someone else's pocket? Or should you be capitalizing on your own skills and putting them into your own company?"

Malfoy frowned. He'd clearly never thought of it that way before.

"Can you take a temporary leave of absence from the Ministry?" Hermione knew the Ministry paid more in prestige than it did in actual money; Malfoy's lifestyle probably so far exceeded his Ministry income that he wouldn't even miss it.

Malfoy considered that in silence for a bit. He looked drawn and subdued. "I'd lose my position," he said after the pause.

With all of the rumors of Malfoy's Death Eater connections, not to mention his spectacular ability to make enemies in everyday situations, there were probably a lot of people eager to see him lose his cozy spot in Supernatural Relations -- and willing to make that happen as soon as it was left unguarded.

Hermione sighed. "Look… you're probably right about that. But maybe quitting the Ministry is something you have to do. If Batwing is going to work, it will involve involve making some serious sacrifices. And I mean real sacrifices - giving up things you don't really want to give up."

"But I -"

"You said you were 100% committed to this," said Hermione. "Is that true? Gut level, are you ready to do whatever it takes to make Batwing work? Because that is what a business owner does when his business is in trouble: sacrifices everything to make it happen."

Malfoy's breath huffed out in frustration and he looked away from her.

"Or," she said more quietly, "do you have doubts? Because again, if you aren't 100% committed, you'd probably be better off selling now at any price."

He ran a hand through his hair and looked out at the horizon, looking none too happy. Hermione watched as he seemed to have an argument with himself internally.

"Fine," he bit out at last, as if forcing himself to say it. "Tell me what you want me to do and I'll at least consider it."

Hermione felt a rush of relief. It appeared that Malfoy was capable of cooperating, when he made the effort.

"Quit the Ministry position," she said firmly. "It's not doing anything for you politically that Batwing couldn't do if you got it back on its feet again. Batwing is a huge company and most of the wizarding manufacturers and retailers who use raw ingredients depend on it. That's plenty of power if Batwing is healthy. Granted you'd be taking a gamble that you will be able to make it work, but you have to have confidence in yourself if you're going to run a business."

Malfoy frowned. "If I did that - and I'm not saying I will, but for the sake of argument - it would only leave me available in the middle of the day. Will that be enough?"

"No," admitted Hermione. "It's really important that you're there first thing in the morning too. Not only will it allow you to speak with the third-shift managers, but it will get you there before the high-level management like your vice-presidents. That's important if you want to gain and keep their respect. They have to be able to see your commitment and how hard you're working on this. They have to believe you're on top of what's going on at the company and there for everything important that happens, or they won't cooperate with you in making changes to the Batwing's operations."

He closed his eyes briefly, and she realized she was making him at least as crazy as he was making her.

"I told you before," he said in a strained voice. "If I go to Batwing at six, I will never get any sleep. Believe me, I am not just saying this to make your job more difficult. Between six and ten is very simply the only sleep I ever get. I can't go without entirely - no one can. I don't care how you ask it, that isn't something I can compromise on."

Hermione just stared at Malfoy for a moment before it finally dawned on her: he had to sleep during the day because he was a Death Eater at night.

Don't think about that, Hermione ordered herself hastily. This is only business. Just do your job! She forced herself to analyze the situation logically. Although it was none of her business why he couldn't sleep when normal people did, it was her business if he couldn't make it in to work at a respectable hour. And unfortunately, the Batwing people already had their suspicions about what he did at night, as she'd overheard. The last thing either Malfoy or Hermione needed was to feed those suspicions.

"Time turner," she said finally.

Malfoy shook his head. "I vowed I would never do that."

"I know," said Hermione, "the time turner thing can get way out of hand. But at this point if you went back for sleeping, and only for sleeping, it would probably help more than it would hurt."

He frowned. "Maybe," he said reluctantly.

"Can you obtain one?"

"I think I may already have one in my father's things. I'll have to ask the house-elves."

So he did still have house-elves at home. Hermione was disappointed even though she had already suspected as much. She forced herself to push that thought away, however; her personal politics had no place on the workplace.

"OK, that takes care of the mornings. Now for the evenings. What about these board meetings and so forth? I know you don't want to give them up but surely arriving late or sometimes being absent is better than nothing at all?"

"I don't happen to agree," he said stiffly.

"Which is more important to you between those meetings and making Batwing succeed?" Hermione persisted.

Malfoy squirmed in his seat and looked away from her, saying nothing.

"Well, that's something else you should think about when you're trying to decide," she said. "And then, regarding weekends...."

"No weekends," he said firmly. "Weekends are for my family."

"You should at least put in an appearance at Batwing on weekends," she said. "A half a day each on Saturday and Sunday would do."

That seemed to strike a nerve somewhere. Malfoy's entire body tensed and his grey eyes gleamed unpleasantly. "Whose time shall I sacrifice, then?" he demanded. "Who shall I fail to visit? My son in the hospital? My daughter alone at Hogsmeade without her brother? My father in Azkaban?"

"You visit Lucius in Azkaban?" Hermione blurted, amazed. She had never heard of an Azkaban prisoner receiving visitors. Then again, most Azkaban inmates were people nobody ever wanted to see again.

"Not that it is any of your business," he drawled, "but yes, I do. We Malfoys happen to take our family responsibilities very seriously, unlike certain Weasleys - Ronald Weasley in particular."

Hermione blinked at the unexpected attack. "What? What did you say?"

"I suppose you don't know any better, being a Mudblood and all, so allow me to enlighten you," said Malfoy arrogantly. "Your husband is a disgrace. Any pure-blooded wizard who'd marry someone like you is a menace to both the welfare of our society and to the futures of his mongrel get. Why he would inflict such a stigma on innocent babes of his own blood is a complete mystery to me. And I'd thought the Weasley line could sink no lower."

Hermione gasped in outrage, but Malfoy wasn't done yet.

"And as if it weren't bad enough that he chose to limit his progeny to a lower station in life, he's also failed to teach them to defer to their betters - nearly guaranteeing that they will live their lives on the fringes of society. How long will it take your branch of the Weasley family to recover from the havoc he's wreaked? Decades? Generations? It is simply appalling."

Hermione snarled and opened her mouth to retort, but he interrupted her smoothly.

"Oh, I don't blame you of course," he said. "Actually it was quite resourceful of you to marry up as well as you did. I expect your children are about as well-bred as the offspring of a Mudblood could be. And you could hardly have been expected to be responsible for their proper upbringing."

Hermione sputtered incoherently.

Malfoy smiled coldly. "And as for how he treats you - granted, you are very nearly an animal, little better than a Muggle. And I am hardly the expert on how Muggle-lovers think. But I should have thought a man would treat even a dog better if he was married to it."

If fire could have shot out of Hermione's nose, it would have then. She nearly exploded with rage. "Draco Malfoy, how dare you talk like that about my husband! Ron Weasley is the most loving, the most caring, sweet, generous man either of us will ever meet!"

Malfoy's eyebrows raised calmly. "You're defending him? I should have thought even you would have more pride."

"I do have pride," said Hermione furiously. "Which is why I won't allow you to sit there and insult my husband, who I happen to love and respect very much -"

"Despite his philandering ways?" inquired Malfoy. "And here I thought you were supposed to be intelligent."

Hermione felt a shock of adrenaline rush through her. "Ron does not cheat," she said loudly, and was horrified to find everyone in the restaurant staring at her. Tears were trying to rise up in her but she squashed them brutally down. "You have a lot of nerve making that kind of accusation, Malfoy," she said. "It's none of your business anyway!"

Malfoy looked up at her and she realized she had somehow come to her feet in her agitation. His expression was cool and unperturbed. "Really, Weasley, what passes for pride in you would be hysterical denial in anyone else. Do sit down before you make even more of a fool of yourself than you already have."

"No, you know what? I think I should go," said Hermione tightly.

Malfoy shrugged. "Fine, then. If you can't spare any more time. It does seem a bit odd after doing your best to press me for more time, however."

Hermione clenched her fists. "Why are you attacking me, when I am only trying to help you? When you are paying me to help you?"

"How can you ask me to believe you're trying to help," Malfoy sneered, "when you suggest I give up my only visible source of income, sabotage myself politically, ignore my family during their time of greatest need, and take unforgivable liberties with dangerous time-control artifacts?"

"I'm not… arggh," said Hermione, frustrated. "My number one priority is Batwing. That's what you want, isn't it? You obviously weren't having any luck on your own or you never would have approached a consultant in the first place. You need my input to tell you what to do or it will never work. It's up to you to decide how to use that input, but I have to offer it as honestly as possible."

His eyes narrowed. "And your connection with Arthur Weasley? How do I know you're not just posing as a consultant, and really working for him? He is your father-in-law."

"Malfoy," said Hermione in exasperation. "I've been working as a consultant for Trelawney for years. That's easy enough to verify. You do trust her, don't you?"

His expression didn't change. "Yes," he said, after a pause.

Hermione gritted her teeth. It made her so frustrated when Trelawney was the least trustworthy person she knew, and yet Malfoy trusted her and not Hermione.

If it had been anybody else, a normal client, she would have invited him to bring his children and come play Quidditch at her house sometime. Shared family activities were a wonderful way to create good relations between consultant and client. Many clients leaped at the chance to play a game of pickup with the famous Ron Weasley, Beater for the Chudley Cannons. And Ron loved playing, even with amateurs. He was so nice about it. People could really see how he loved the sport.

But between her own kids' misbehavior, Salazar's being in the hospital, Ron's prolonged absences and Malfoy's inability to fly legally, that was completely out of the question. Not to mention Ron would likely kill Malfoy or vise versa. If Hermione didn't kill them both first. Hermione's teeth ground together harder in frustration. Wasn't there any way to repair the rift between herself and Malfoy so that they could work together comfortably? This was going to be a very difficult assignment if they couldn't.

But then, as they continued to regard each other in a distinctly unfriendly way, Hermione began to examine his expression and posture more carefully. What was that bright dangerous glint in his eyes? Was it only malice? It seemed to Hermione that there was something else there too, something akin to stress. And the way he had braced himself against the booth - defensive, almost as if he felt under attack.

He was only lashing out, she realized suddenly, because the ideas she was throwing out were too much for him to cope with all at once. He'd been under a lot of pressure from many different directions for weeks now. Financial difficulties, political maneuvering, Auror harassment, bad publicity, chronic sleep deprivation, and a serious alcohol problem to name a few. And those were only the problems she knew about. There might be a lot more that she wasn't even aware of. And he had been making an effort to listen to her and consider her words. It couldn't be easy for him, a high-flying aristocrat and bigoted pure-blood, to find himself needing help from a Muggle-born witch who was almost his enemy. And the changes she was suggesting weren't just scheduling changes, they were radical changes to his life. There was a lot to think about there and a lot to take in all at once. She felt bad about having pushed him so hard so soon. It was no wonder he'd lost it.

Much as she hated to admit it, Hermione did have areas of lack-of-expertise and dealing with other human beings was definitely one of them. Now that she thought of it, she realized why Malfoy had freaked right when he did. It was because she'd suggested he take time off of family for Batwing. If she'd stopped to think about it, she would have remembered that right now he had almost no family at all. Lucius was in prison. As far as Hermione had been able to tell while spying, Narcissa was at least absent and maybe missing. Salazar was in the hospital and Lucia was away at school. She knew how lonely it could be in that situation; she was in nearly the same situation herself. In hindsight she could kick herself for her insensitivity.

And speaking of insensitivity, though the time-distortion of being in her fly form and taking hundreds of tiny fly-naps throughout the day made it difficult to remember it, Nesbitt and Benkmann's attack on him had happened only that morning. Since then he'd drunk himself unconscious, then downed enough detox potion to sober a full grown Hippogriff, been hit by five Stupefies and three Ennervates, and followed that up with a Pepper-up potion the smoke of which was still curling faintly from his ears. Not exactly a chain of events to bring out the best in anybody's personality and Malfoy had enough trouble with interpersonal interactions to begin with. She wasn't going to help anything by getting upset with him for succumbing to stress.

She sighed.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Malfoy. I know I've given you a lot to think about, and I know I can't expect you to trust me completely right away," said Hermione. "But I think over time you'll see that I am extremely trustworthy and reliable. My actions will prove it. I can help you build your company and make the right decisions. I think you'll be very pleased."

Malfoy frowned, clearly reserving judgment until that time arrived. However, no biting comment seemed forthcoming so perhaps the apology was accepted. Hermione made a mental note to see if she could speak with Jones privately and find out how the Auror had managed to get prickly Malfoy to be so comfortable around him. A few tips definitely wouldn't hurt.

"Now," said Hermione, "can we meet at this same time tomorrow?"

There was a long, long pause while Malfoy studied her and, presumably, decided whether he was still willing to have anything to do with her at all.

"We can meet tomorrow," he said at last, "but I have a S.P.E.W. board meeting at 5PM. It will have to be later," he said.

Hermione stared at him. "You're on the board of S.P.E.W.?" Then her eyes widened in realization. "You represent the interests of the elf-owners don't you?"

"Of course," he said haughtily.

Hermione had to remind herself once again that her personal politics had no business on the job. "Ahem, well, never mind that," she said with a wince. "Later will be fine. Shall we meet at your office in Batwing, then? Say, 8PM?"

"Fine," he nodded. "8PM."

She noticed he didn't offer to shake her hand again, and she was still stinging from his insults, particularly the one about her intelligence and Ron's cheating. But at least neither of them had drawn wands in anger. And he did seem to be doing his best to consider her suggestions for Batwing.

As she gathered her things and stood, she saw him looking at his watch.

"I daresay you shouldn't Apparate until you've had more time to recover?" she said.

"I'm meeting some friends here shortly," he said, "so I'm not going anywhere."

"OK," she said, "then I'll see you tomorrow."

But as she left, she was already planning how she could sneak back in again and spy.