Without a Trace

Author's note--Two quick things about WOaT: they give the "number of hours missing" at the bottom of the screen at the beginning of the scene (not every scene, though). So, for example, this chapter will be about what happens after Parker's been missing for two hours. And it's supposed to be a little bit elongated, so the next chapter won't be "three hours missing"...it'll be whatever time the next clue to the boy's whereabouts comes into play...they also generally have an average of four scenes per "installment" so that's about what I tried to do here.

And the second thing: the team constructs a 'Day of Disappearance' timeline of the 24 hours prior to the victim's disappearance. Here, since Parker is only three, they're focusing more on the parents' lives to find out why their son is missing.

Okay, now the commercials are over, and on to the show!
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Without a Trace

TWO HOURS MISSING

Harry froze; his FBI detachment training abandoned him, and he was left blinking rapidly as the blonde head in front of him revealed the one and only Draco Malfoy.

“Malfoy? You’re the ‘disoriented and uncooperative’ father? You have a missing three year old?” The questions slipped from his tongue in a very unprofessional, squeaky manner before he could check them, waiting for the familiar hatred and disgust to materialize in Draco’s currently shocked grey eyes. It never came. To Harry’s utter dismay, at the mention of his son, Draco’s face crumpled immediately, and Harry was blasted full force with the real Draco Malfoy, the one he had seen only once in the past fourteen years, just that one fateful New Year’s Eve after Voldemort died, and the two men had spent seven years denying what had transpired between them. Harry had not only not seen Draco since graduation seven years ago, he had moved halfway around the world six years ago to escape him after hearing about the Malfoy-Parkinson wedding! And somehow, fate had conspired against him because here he was, sobbing brokenly in the dingy office, a mere shadow of his former self. Watching his nemesis-turned-lover-turned-reluctant-rival-again abandon all pretenses was too much rawness for even the courageous Gryffindor to handle, and he backed out of the room, slamming the door, and leaned on the wall, trying to get a grip on his whirlwind emotions.

“HJ, you alright?” Harry opened his eyes, and his gut pulled a little as he saw the blonde hair…but it was a darker blonde, and the brown eyes of Special Agent Samantha Spade peered at him curiously.

“Yeah,” he stammered, trying to recover. “I’m fine. You just get here? Is anyone else here yet?”

“No, you were the first. Jack is on his way, and I think Elena is already at the office compiling background on the family. I’m not sure about Vivian, Danny and Martin…so what’s going on?” Samantha gave him the rundown of the team. Even though HJ had been part of their squad for six years, he was still considered ‘the new guy’, especially since all of the other agents were in their thirties (Sam, Danny, Martin, and Elena) and forties (Vivian and Jack), and HJ was twenty-four, turning twenty-five at the end of the month. The team had been suspicious of him at first; after all, how good could a British eighteen year old REALLY be? (They knew he had to have high connections to even get this job at his age; higher even than Martin, whose father was the Deputy Director of the FBI, but HJ was tight-lipped about his past.) But HJ had proved himself to be a reliable agent with uncanny instincts, and he meshed easily with the team, not even considering the fact that all of them, even wise-guy Danny Taylor, were completely enamored with his smart as hell, look-a-like daughters.

“N-nothing. I just got here myself. The…uh, the father is in there, but he’s kind of a mess right now. I didn’t get anything out of him,” Harry fibbed slightly, regaining his composure because the situation called for it. He shoved all of his own feelings into a dark corner of his soul, determined not to allow them to affect him again, even as one last whisper of a thought crossed his mind that this must have been what Draco had had to do his entire life: lock his true feelings away because they wouldn’t allow him to function in the world into which he had been thrust. “What do we know so far?”

“Parker James Malfoy, age three years old, light blonde hair, grey eyes, last seen on the second floor of FAO Schwartz by the science section,” Samantha recited rotely, reading from her notebook. She always hated ‘missing children’ cases. “Parents are both British—probably here on vacation—but only the father was with the boy. We’ve got to find out where the mother is; if she’s not here, she might be involved. Father’s name is-”

“Draco Malfoy,” Harry supplied softly.

“Right. And you said he’s in there? What did he say?” Samantha’s eyes narrowed as she watched her fellow agent fidget. He knew full well that 'missing child' cases had to be acted on immediately, and his hesitation was getting on her nerves and possibly costing them precious time. “Never mind, I’ll ask him myself.” She pushed through the door, leaving Harry alone in the hall. He decided to make himself useful and go talk to the employees and witnesses who were in the store, since he didn’t think he could face Malfoy again just yet.

* * * * *

“Mr. Malfoy, my name is Samantha Spade, and I’m with the FBI. I understand that you spoke to my colleague a few moments ago? I’d like to ask you a couple of questions, if you don’t mind. We really need you to calm down so that you can help us find your son,” Sam handed Draco a box of tissues, trying to use her no-nonsense-yet-caring voice to quiet his hysterical crying. It worked, and she politely ignored the growing mountain of tissues as Draco wiped his eyes and proceeded to rid his body of a week’s worth of nasal fluids. “Now then, Mr. Malfoy, can you tell me what your son was wearing when he disappeared?”

“Um, a plain grey shirt, green wind breaker, and jeans.”

“And how long was he out of your sight before you realized he was gone?”

“I’m n-not sure…not more than two or three minutes. I-we were looking at all the different things, and he was running from one thing to the next ahead of me. I saw something and went to look at it. I called for him to come back; he’s really a good child, very obedient, but after I put the box down, I couldn’t find him. I started looking, and he wasn’t anywhere, and-” Draco began to break down again, so Sam interrupted him, changing tactics.

“Okay, thank you, Mr. Malfoy. And where is Parker’s mother right now?” She was staring intently at him. Draco blinked at the abrupt shift in subjects.

“Tiffany’s, I think. She, she wanted to go shopping. By herself. We had fought about it basically all day, and we were just a block or two away from Tiffany’s, so she just left. And I was so sick of arguing, I just let her, and Parker and I came here.”

“I see. And her name is?”

“Pansy. Pansy Parkinson Malfoy. Why, have you gotten a hold of her?” Samantha could hear a slight edge in his voice and tucked it away for later.

“No, sir, but we are now in the process of trying to locate her. Do you and your wife fight often?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Draco said off-handedly. Something clicked in his brain. “Why?”

“What kinds of things do you fight about?”

“Everything,” the pale blonde’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Has there been any talk of divorce or separation?”

“No, nothing like that. Why?” Draco was becoming exasperated that an American woman could so neatly turn Slytherin guile against him, especially when it was obvious she never had been, or would be, a student of Hogwarts.

“This is very important, Mr. Malfoy. In your opinion, do you think your wife would just take the child?”

“What do you mean?” Draco’s eyes opened wide as he was blindsided by the question.

“I mean, is it possible that she decided to just disappear with your son?”

“I-I…I…” Draco was flabbergasted as he contemplated the situation. Yes, he and Pansy fought all the time, but she wouldn’t…would she? His first instinct was to say no, but it was laced with doubt, and Samantha saw it. “I don’t think so, but maybe?”

“Okay. Mr. Malfoy, are you here in New York on business or pleasure?”

“Vacation; Pansy wanted to take a vacation, so I booked a month-long trip to New York City. Parker wanted to see the Big Apple…” his voice trailed off.

“And you’ve just arrived?”

“Yes, our plane landed July first. We’ve been walking around here since then.”

“And where did you go today?”

“Um, we strolled through Times Square…bought a couple of souvenirs…went to Central Park…and then here. Except that Pansy went to Tiffany’s,” Draco’s mind was going all different directions, and he found it hard to focus. Samantha was scribbling furiously.

“And who knew you were coming to America? Any enemies or anyone who might want to hurt you or your child?” Sam knew they would have to run with the notion that perhaps he had been kidnapped by the mother first, but she wanted to have a second lead to follow up on, just in case.

“Um, no. My…father is dead, and my mother is-is in jail…back in England. We don’t speak anymore. Pansy told her parents, but they would never hurt Parker. I have quite a few enemies, but none that I’m aware of who knew we were coming to New York. My former….my ex-best friend from school was quite angry that we were coming…” Draco trailed off, remembering how he had grabbed Parker and fled the house before the little boy could hear his mother’s lover screaming about them being gone for an entire month.

“And what is his name?”

“B-Blaise. Blaise Zabini.” Draco had no idea how the American agency worked, and therefore these questions seemed rather random to him. Samantha nodded encouragingly.

“And why was he angry?”

“Um…I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it,” Draco’s face turned stony. He wasn’t about to spill his family’s dirty laundry to this strange woman, agent or not. His heart constricted painfully, and his lip curled into a comforting sneer. “I’m through talking to you. Go and find my son.” Sam blinked at the abrupt shift in aura, and the air was suddenly thick with tension as his quiet order hung in the air.

“Mr. Malfoy, I only have a few more questions for you, and then we can take a break for right now. What do you do?” Sam looked up from her notebook expectantly, flinching slightly at the rage in his face. He set his jaw, suddenly seeming like a spoiled teenager. “How old are you, Mr. Malfoy?”

“Twenty-five. Just turned,” Draco barked. “What does that have to do with my missing son?”

“You’re awfully young to be a father,” she commented, trying to keep him talking. “How old is his mother?”

“Same age.”

“And how did the two of you meet?”

“We went to…primary and secondary school together.” Seeing Samantha’s blank look, he huffed out a sigh, looking put out that he had to explain. “I believe you Americans call it ‘elementary’ and ‘high school’.” He said condescendingly, leaving out the fact that it had been a wizarding school. He had no knowledge of the American wizarding world, if there even was one. Samantha made a couple more notes in her book before closing it. Draco sensed that she was about to leave, and inexplicably, he felt a surge of panic at being left alone. “Wait. Agent…Spade, was it? What did you mean, I spoke with your colleague?” Samantha’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Special Agent Potter was outside when I arrived. Did he not come and talk to you before I did?”

“No, he did…I just didn’t catch his name, is all. I—never mind. Thank you,” Draco clammed up again. Samantha had almost gotten up, sat back down again, and was now staring at him. The sinking feeling in his stomach that he had just made a huge miscalculation was combined with a shock that Harry Potter, Savior of Everyone and Everything, was an American ‘special agent’, whatever the hell that was! Draco had heard rumors that Potter had left England, but he didn’t put any stock in them.

“Mr. Malfoy, what aren’t you telling me? You are from England, so maybe you don’t know that any information you have, whatever small detail you might think is insignificant, could be the key to finding your son. So if you know something, share it,” Samantha’s brain was racing as she noticed that his accent was the same as HJ’s. She rose, bending down so that her face was inches away from the nervous husband’s, never breaking eye contact, willing him to tell her. Her stare was the proverbial straw that broke Draco-the-camel’s back, and he cracked under all of the pressure.

“We used to know each other. In school,” he admitted softly. Samantha had suspected it, but hearing it made her sink back into her chair in shock. Draco rushed on to explain. “But I haven’t seen him in seven years! I didn’t even know he lived here. Believe me, if I had, New York would have been the last place we would have come. I-I don’t want to talk about it.” She nodded, assuring him that she would return as soon as she could, and Samantha ran out of the room, fervently hoping that Jack had arrived. He needed to know about this.

* * * * *

Jack was conferring with Martin and Danny, who had both just shown up, as Samantha came out of the room. He was the supervisor of the team, which had been broken up into a sub-team with the arrival of HJ. Jack kept Samantha and Danny (who were both rather trigger-happy at times) on his own sub-team, with HJ under them so they could keep an eye on him. Vivian still reported to Jack, but he had given her Martin and Elena, who generally headed up the paperwork section of a given investigation. Vivian and Elena were currently at the office, putting together a profile of their newest clients, while Martin had shown up on the scene since the trail was still hot.

Samantha barreled out of the room, her eyes lighting on Jack, and the men’s conversation ceased as she spilled what she knew about the mother’s whereabouts and the fact that HJ had a prior acquaintance with the father. Quick as lightning, Jack ordered Martin to get to Tiffany’s to search for Pansy, Samantha to escort Draco to Headquarters to see what else she could get out of him, and pulled Danny with him as they stomped off to find Potter. The new kid was talking to one of the police officers when Jack cut him off with a curt, “Excuse us,”. He and Danny manhandled HJ to a quiet corner. HJ turned around, fire in his green eyes, abruptly shutting up as Jack glowered at him.

“How do you know the father?”

“Draco Malfoy,” Danny supplied, looking just as serious as Jack. Both of them had been doing this job a lot longer than Potter.

“What? I don’t-” Harry caught himself. Malfoy had blabbed—that much was obvious. There was no way they could have known that any other way. He knew better than to lie to his boss if he wanted to keep his job, even though it was crashingly more important to him that no one know about the past than his career. He realized that, if Jack threw him off the case, he wouldn’t be able to help Malfoy, and he had no idea why that thought made him want to tell the truth…just not all of it.

“We went to the same school for seven years. It was a private school in England, and we both graduated seven years ago. I moved here shortly after, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since graduation day. Look, we used to be enemies when we were kids—no, the reason why isn’t important—but we’re not anymore…not really, anyway. We haven’t talked,” he finished, shrugging to indicate that it was hard to be adversaries if they ignored each other, like Harry and Draco had done. Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, a sign that Harry recognized as indecision. “Please don’t throw me off the case! I can help! I won’t let anything get in the way, I promise. Please, Jack, let me help him.”

“Consider this your warning, Potter. If I so much as see ANY kind of unprofessionalism from you, you’re behind the desk, pushing papers. Got it?” Jack nodded, against his better judgment. Danny raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Jack had a habit of letting his agents work on cases that cut a little too close to home; he had let Danny stay on when his brother went missing and Martin when his aunt disappeared. Jack himself had taken the lead on a case or two from which he probably should have recused himself, the most recent being the kidnapping of his long-term, pregnant girlfriend, who they had found unharmed, in the nick of time, after being forced to shoot her kidnapper. Harry returned the nod vigorously. Danny stepped away to call Elena at the office so that she could include this information in their ‘Day of Disappearance’ reconstructive timeline.

* * * * *

Martin Fitzgerald practically ran to Tiffany’s, barking at the receptionist on the phone to have security fan out to find Pansy Malfoy. She had apparently just paid and walked out the door, but the clerk ran after her and brought her back in. Pansy’s face was pinched in anger until a winded Martin stepped through the door. Pansy advanced on him, screaming, until Martin gave her a shake and escorted her to the manager’s office.

“Mrs. Malfoy, how long have you been here at Tiffany’s?”

“About two hours,” she replied. “My husband and son are at FAO Schwartz, and I came here to shop.”

“That’s right, sir,” the manager spoke up. “I can vouch for her. She has been here the entire time. I have been with her personally, assisting her shopping. She has the most exquisite taste, if I may say so.” Pansy flushed and gave a calculated smile, knowing that the old bat was probably just schmoozing up to her so that she would buy more, but at that point, she didn’t really care. Martin nodded, making notations, and then asked the manager to leave. That ruled out the mother as the kidnapper, though it didn’t mean that she didn’t have help, if she was involved at all.

“And what is the nature of your relationship with your husband?”

“He’s…my husband,” Pansy blinked. “What more do you want to know? And just who are you, anyway? Why are you asking me these questions?”

“Apologies, Mrs. Malfoy. My name is Martin Fitzgerald, and I am with the Federal Bureau of Investigations. I just have a few questions for you. How’s your marriage? Happy? Do you two fight?”

“Happy? Hardly. We get on well enough, but this was the first time he let us out of the house since before our son was born! WHEN we speak, which isn’t often, we fight. Today we fought because I wanted to shop, and Draco was pissed,” Pansy looked appropriately outraged. Too appropriately outraged, Martin decided.

“What do you mean, ‘he wouldn’t let you out of the house’?” Martin knew there was more going on than met the eye. Pansy had been with Blaise right before they left for America, and she was upset that it would be an entire month before she would see him again. The other lovers had made her life with Draco tolerable, but Blaise made her wish she could leave, despite the fact that she loved her son. This official was cute—kind of the ‘typical American guy’—and Pansy, being Pansy, couldn’t resist flirting a little.

“Well, you see, Mr. Fitzgerald, we are British,” she drawled, batting her eyelashes at him. “It’s a little different in England than America. My husband has quite a few enemies who wouldn’t hesitate to torture anyone who they thought might even be remotely connected to his name. We finally stopped being threatened about three years ago, when our son was born, but you see, Draco is rather paranoid. We have house-…servants, you see, and only the servants were allowed to go out for groceries and the like. Can you imagine? Three years of having to shop by catalogue. Is there anything more humiliating?” Pansy played the spoiled rich wife perfectly. “And then I convinced him that it was safe enough to go on vacation, and here we are! And now I’m talking to Mr. America himself, you see…” That made her realize that she still had no idea why Mr. Fitzgerald was questioning her. “Why ARE you talking to me?”

“Mrs. Malfoy, I regret to inform you that your son is missing. He disappeared from FAO Schwartz about two hours ago, and your husband has no idea what happened.” Martin watched her closely. Pansy dropped her little act, her eyes widening in fear and anger, and she bounced to her feet.

“WHAT?” her reaction appeared genuine to Martin. “PARKER IS MISSING? WHERE IS HE? WHAT HAPPENED? I’LL KILL HIM! FUCK, THIS IS ALL DRACO’S FAULT! I KNOW IT IS!” Pansy began to shake as she directed her anger at her absent husband. Martin caught hold of her, forcing her to look at him.

“Mrs. Malfoy-”

“DON’T YOU CALL ME THAT! I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT LITTLE FERRET! MY NAME IS PANSY, DAMN YOU!”

“Pansy, please calm down. I have a car outside, waiting to take you to our office where my supervisor can better explain what is going on. Come with me,” Martin guided her out the door. The manager at Tiffany’s assured Pansy on the way out that he would personally see that her purchases would be delivered to her hotel, and Pansy went with Martin to FBI Headquarters, where Draco was already waiting with Jack and Samantha.
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Author's note--I love "watching" this story in my head! Anyway, if anyone wants to guess at what's going on/what's going to happen, I would be amused. Of course, I have it all planned out (and more or less written) so this would purely be for my enjoyment (and to help you not be scarred for life by the end of my chapters)

I don't think this one was TOO bad, but trust me, I'll be making up for that soon! Thanks for reading and reviewing!