why some foreign village clerk they only just saw overseas, is polishing brassware for Pansy Parkinson in Wiltshire!"
"Who the hell goes to Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia for holiday?"
Draco thought for a moment. "Good point," he conceded.
Goyle shuffled on his feet and then had the audacity to grin at him. "Good to see you by the way. Even if you do look like hell."
Draco wondered if he was doomed to hear about his faded good looks, indefinitely. "How long have you been Boris the Manservant?"
"Two years."
He got angry all over again. "Fuck me, Goyle! I would have thought that by now the two of you would have put into action whatever half-arsed plan you'd hatched!"
"Yes well, it' s been nice just living here in peace with her after the stuff I had to doyou' d know all about it, I expect. It' s a wonder she took me back even! You can' t blame us for wanting a little stability."
"You should have just told me! I'm insulted that neither you nor Pansy thinks that I can be trusted."
"Malfoy, with all due respect, we only found out you were alive less than two months ago. We didn't know what to think until we saw you again. For all we knew, you could have been sent to track me down for running away from the Death Eaters."
"And what do you think now?"
Goyle considered the question. "I think you're back for the same reasons I came back. And I think there's something Pansy neglected to mention"
Draco stared at him, curious. "Yes?"
Goyle still hesitated. "Well, I'm only guessing Pansy didn't tell you because right now you don't look like you want to kill anyone..."
"I know about Snape," Draco interrupted. "I' m in a position to do something about it now that I've got my identity back."
Goyle nodded quickly. "Of course it' s disgusting what happened to him. He got time for setting Lucius free, but then there was also the unauthorized use of Veritaserum on Pansy when he questioned her that final night at Hogwarts. She even wrote a letter saying she didn't care about it, but that did nothing. Dumbledore pulled out all the stops to keep him out of jail, but Snape's record wasn't in his favour."
"If it's not about Snape, what is it Pansy should have told me?"
Goyle now looked incredibly uncomfortable. "Nicholas Winter," he said, in a rush. "He's Muggleborn, works in Granger's department. August Winthrop and Winter were good friends. Pansy used to have August and Millicent over all the time for dinner and wellI overheard a lot, being the dutiful, hovering servant that I am."
"Nicholas Winter?" Draco enunciated, his expression darkening.
"He's Granger's boss. Well not boss, really. More like supervisor. Maybe not even that. I think he might just be a colleague. I could be wrong. August was always going on about how Nick practically ran that department."
Draco impatiently held up a hand. "Greg, who the fuck is Nicholas Winter and why do I suddenly feel this murderous rage you spoke about earlier."
Goyle gave his old friend a sympathetic look. "He's Granger's boyfriend."
Chapter Fifty-Four
Pansy Parkinson certainly knew how to throw a party.
Hermione accepted the slender, crystal champagne flute that Nick was offering her. She took a distracted sip and was momentarily caught off guard by the light and lively rose. It was honestly delightful, as was everything else in the ballroom, of course. Pansy was not one to do things by halves.
The pink champagne was the only spot of noticeable colour in the decoration. The rest of it was a blanket of ivory-white. The ceiling was completely covered in swathes of ivory silk, draped in such a way that the abundant candlelight created dancing shadows across the rippling ceiling.
It was like looking at clouds from under water, which unfortunately was not something Hermione necessarily wanted to be reminded off.
The fabric wrapped around each of the four main pillars, pooling in an artfully arranged silken puddle around the base of each pillar. Hermione was standing in front of one such pillar, imagining herself to be Beanstalk Jack, in the Land of the Giants. She felt towered over and knew it had nothing to do with height. Being that nervous tended to mentally shrink you a little.
Liveried waiters circulated with champagne and canapes, so discreet that you didn' t realize one was at your elbow until you actually fancied a drink or a bite to eat. Though if you preferred to stay in the one spot, there were two long tables