The file on Abraxas Malfoy was surprisingly thick. He had obviously been active in the artifact business during his lifetime, had not missed any of the major auctions and had also regularly organized exhibitions himself.

Annoyed, Hermione ran her fingers through her thick curls. The trace of the vase clearly led to him and all records of his activities after that showed no sign that he had sold it to anyone afterwards. So, the vase had to still be in the Malfoys' possession. She wondered if Malfoy was aware that a potentially dangerous item was somewhere in his home. How much did he know about his grandfather's passion for collecting?

She flipped back to the beginning. Abraxas Malfoy had died of dragon pox in 1989, so it was unlikely that he had ever talked to his grandson about any matters of concern. And as she assessed Lucius Malfoy, he had never trusted his son enough to let him in on family secrets. Whenever she had seen father and son together somewhere, an indeterminable contempt spoke from his behaviour towards Draco. As if he was disappointed that his son was just an average wizard.

Reluctantly, she pushed the papers away. Now was definitely not the time to feel sympathy for Draco. Although it came out after the war that he had done many things only because Voldemort had put extreme pressure on him and his family - which is why she testified for him - his behaviour when she visited him in the villa spoke a language of its own: He still looked down on her. As if she hadn't proved that the blood status didn't say anything about magical talent. Besides, at least she had a paid job, while he was following the ancient life of an English gentleman – which meant by definition he was not working.

Determined, she reached for her coat. She would pay him another visit on the spot and not leave until she was sure that he did not know about the existence of the vase. She would not be frightened by his behaviour again.

With a bang she apparated to the borders of the Malfoy estate. Biting cold lay over the vast land, a frosty veil had been drawn over nature. The villa lay before her, surrounded by absolute silence; only the steam rising in curls from a chimney testified that someone was home.

Hermione stood up to full height and walked towards the entrance with her head held high. Again, she was greeted by the house elf, but this time, to her surprise, he led her straight into the house without consulting his master first. Suspiciously, she raised her eyebrows. Was her visit expected?

"Miss Granger!", the melodious voice of Narcissa Malfoy greeted her, "You honour us with your visit again so soon!"

Still suspicious, Hermione looked to the stairs that the mistress of the house was just descending. She was wearing an elaborate, expensive-looking dress that made her figure look feminine despite her advanced age. The dark green flattered her blond hair. Hermione swallowed. Mrs Malfoy definitely looked more like she was attending a ball than simply receiving an official guest in her home.

"What can I do for you?" she inquired when she stepped closer to Hermione and extended a hand to greet her.

Politely shaking the hand, she replied, "I would like another word with your son, Mrs Malfoy."

In a well-calculated movement, an eyebrow moved up. "My son? He told me of your visit, but he seemed convinced that he had fully complied with your wishes."

Hermione couldn't shake off the feeling that this woman was trying to hide something from her, but she had no intention of being provoked. "Yes, indeed, I have been able to inspect the house to my satisfaction. But I still had a few questions that only came to my mind later. I'm a bit inattentive sometimes, you know?"

She smiled sweetly and noticed triumphantly that her absolutely uncharacteristic utterance made the cold mask of the lady disappear for a moment, but immediately she gathered herself again. "Only too gladly. He is in our library right now. Robby, show Miss Granger to Draco."

Quickly, Hermione got rid of her coat and then followed the little house-elf into one of the back wings to a large, double-wing door. There Robby stopped. "Please, Miss, here is the library. The house-elves are not allowed to enter it, so unfortunately you will have to knock and enter yourself. Robby apologizes for the inconvenience."

Grimly, Hermione pressed her lips together. So much faith in these friendly, magical creatures. Unbelievable. She took a deep breath, then entered without knocking.

A paradise of books opened before her. High, beautifully decorated shelves of dark wood stretched as far as the eye could see, and at the other end of the huge room a spiral staircase led up to a gallery that spanned the entire room. Upstairs, too, the walls were covered by bookshelves, and already from a distance, Hermione could see that there were much older books there. Leaning casually against the railing, Draco Malfoy stood on the gallery on the left side of the room and leafed through one of the books. When he heard the sound of the closing door, he turned around and looked down.

"Ah, Hermione, I was wondering when you'd come back to me!"

She couldn't resist the fact that her mouth just opened and she stared stupidly up at him. Where did this sudden friendliness come from, this overly familiar attitude? She closed her eyes and shook her head. This family more than obviously had something to hide. With long, firm steps she crossed the room and climbed the spiral staircase.

"I'm glad you've finally learned some manners," she greeted Malfoy as she arrived before him. "Why not be like this from the start?"

A guilty grin appeared on his lips. "Old habits. I'm really sorry I gave you the cold shoulder. Can you forgive me, Hermione?"

As if to lend even more meaning to his confidential address, he bent down to look at her directly at eye level. Hermione swallowed. She knew that Malfoy had been popular with the girls at school, but now, for the first time, she found herself exposed to the full power of his charm, and this threw her completely off balance.

"I-," she started, but she had to interrupt herself as her mouth suddenly dried up and she was unable to continue.

"Why don't you let me take you out to lunch?" Malfoy suggested as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "As an apology? And I'll be happy to answer any questions you may have."

Again, her mouth opened without her coming up with an answer. What was going on? What did the Malfoys have to hide that they were bringing in such heavy artillery? Did Malfoy seriously want to show himself in public with her?

Suspicious, she closed her mouth and squinted her eyes. They wanted to fool and distract her, that much was certain. But she would not give up so easily.

"That sounds wonderful," she replied cheerfully and returned his smile. Determined, she looked him in the eye, just waiting for him to drop his put-on behaviour, but he looked back with the same broad smile, kept eye contact and indeed seemed enthusiastic. Convulsively, she forced herself not to blush or look down.

Finally, he laughed softly and straightened up again. "Beautiful. Let's get our coats. I know a very good restaurant in London."