~*~*~*~
“Malfoy?”
“Oh, bloody hell. I should have known something like this would happen.”
“Muttering isn't really your style, as I recall. Care to repeat whatever it was you just said at a volume where I might actually be able to hear it, and defend myself accordingly?”
“Although I'm sure it will come as a shock, I didn't insult you, Granger.”
“Really?”
“But I'm sure I can come up with something if you'd like.”
“That won't be necessary.”
“Hmph.”
“Grunting isn't really your style either.”
“Yes, well, you know what they say: When in Rome . . .”
“So nice to see that losing the war didn't change you at least, Malfoy. I was beginning to wonder with so many of your former house-mates sending me flowers and chocolates in apology for their actions.”
“I wouldn't eat those chocolates if I were you. But to answer your unspoken question, I could hardly claim I was under the Imperius Curse like everyone else, could I? Nobody would have believed it.”
“They didn't believe them either.”
“Which is why half of them are sending you gifts and the other half are in Azkaban while I'm free. Duress is a hell of a defense, especially when it's true.”
“Indeed. Speaking of which, I wouldn't have expected you to be spending your hard-bought freedom surrounded by Muggles.”
“That makes two of us. Unfortunately, it can't be helped. The great snake-faced bastard had the rat sell off some Malfoy family heirlooms to punish my father and further finance his cause in one fell swoop. I've no idea how they ended up here, but the people I had looking into recovering them for me haven't been wrong yet, and sure enough . . . Lots twelve, thirty-three through forty-six, which my mother bemoaned to no end since they came from her jewelry collection, and fifty-three . . . What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“The desk is yours?”
“It was. Well, it belonged to my great-grandfather, technically, but I have every intention of reclaiming it; even if I have to buy it back from these filthy Mug-”
“How much are you planning to bid for it?”
“As much as it takes to win, obviously. Ugh. Don't look at me like I've gone soft, Granger. Naturally, I'd prefer to save time and money and just take everything, but with the Aurors watching my every move, it seems prudent to play by the rules in this particular case.”
“Ah . . . I don't suppose you'd consider parting with the desk if I helped you . . . uh . . . repossess the jewelry and the piano?”
“You . . . I would have thought you'd want the jewelry.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“What with you being a woman and all.”
“Let me get this straight. You're not surprised that I'm willing to compromise my ethics to help you get your things back, you're just surprised that I don't want the jewelry?”
“Oh, please. Your ethics have always been flexible. The name Marietta Edgecombe ring any bells?”
“I believe people should keep their promises, that's all. I can hardly be held responsible for her disagreeing with me.”
“Quite. So can I take your word as your promise on this arrangement, Granger?”
“I always honor my word, Malfoy. It's yours I'm worried about.”
“Wand oath?”
“Shh! There are Muggles around, in case you hadn't noticed.”
“I noticed. I wouldn't have thought one little auction would attract so many of them.”
“Actually, the turnout's a lot less than I expected.”
“You're joking.”
“You are aware that the Muggle population outnumbers the wizarding population a few thousand to one, aren't you?”
“That many?”
“Interesting. I don't think I've ever heard your voice squeak like that . . . Right. Never mind. I refuse to venture into something so risky with someone so obviously ignorant of who he's dealing with. You can forget I offered.”
“. . .Wait.”
“Malfoy . . .”
“As much as it pains me to admit it, I don't think I can do it without you.”
“Of course you can . . . it will just cost you a lot more . . . Don't grit your teeth. It's not good for them.”
“Fine. Fine. If you help me, I'll let you have the desk and lot . . . um . . . thirty-nine.”
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
“I don't know! Go someplace nice? The stones in those earrings are some of the finest Columbian emeralds, you know.”
“They're hideous.”
“. . .There is that.”
“I suppose I could palm them off on someone else, though. Maybe as a present? They're not cursed, are they?”
“I honestly have no idea. I haven't heard about any of these Muggles falling ill, though, so I think they're probably alright.”
“Some curses only affect people with magical blood . . . Okay, we have a deal.”
“Even if they're ugly and cursed?”
“Ginny's birthday is coming up.”
“. . .You're going to give the Weaslette a pair of cursed earrings?”
“No, I'm going to give Ginny a pair of horribly ugly earrings that she won't be able to complain about because they're so expensive. If they're cursed, I can claim I had no knowledge of it, because I got them at a Muggle auction . . . And don't give me that look. You, yourself, pointed out that I have flexible ethics.”
“Right.”
“Mm . . . What? Why are you grinning like that?”
“I just realized something.”
“Oh?”
“My former house-mates; the ones who are sending you flowers and chocolates to get on your good side?”
“What about them?”
“They're only sending them to you, aren't they? Not to your friends?”
“. . .Huh.”
“Hadn't thought about it before, had you?”
“Not really, no. Do you think it means something?”
“Yeah. That they know who's really in charge and that she's morally ambiguous enough to maybe accept them further down the line. You're not just clever, you're downright devious. I can't imagine why I didn't see it before.”
“Charming assessment.”
“Doesn't make it any less true.”
“Are we going to do this or not? Because if we are, we should do it before the auction actually starts.”
“See? Devious.”
~end~
Story Notes:
It was a struggle to get this to a thousand words even - my muse wanted to keep going! It's written in 'dialogue only' style, so if that's not your thing, feel free to skip it. Thanks, as always, to my beta, pokeystar, who's awesome and fast. Thank you!