Harvest Moon

Coffee, sugar, cream

Blended to perfection

Coffee, sugar, cream

Blended to perfection

Beans on vine,

Beans on vine,

Happiness will soon be mine

Ground and brewed

Ground and brewed

With happiness it is imbued



Hermione pushed her hair away from her face and opened one eye to look balefully at Draco as he poked her awake. She decided to forgive him rather quickly though as he just happened to be standing over her holding a cup of coffee out for her inspection. She grumbled a little and took it gratefully, seeing he had doctored it to perfection for her. There were benefits of being with a long term partner. She nodded to him and took a sip, waiting for him to say something.



“We have to get to the office soon,” he said. “The Ministry is in an uproar over all of this. I’m not sure how long we’ll be allowed to work the Dawn Morris case and the others if this new body is connected. Since we know it is, I’d like to get as much finished on it as possible.”



Hermione nodded. Damn it, she did not want to let go of those cases. They’d come too far on them to stop now. Everything in her rebelled at the mere thought of turning over all of their hard work to someone else. Someone who might not give these cases the kind of attention warranted and only wanted to have them because they would be sensational once it hit the news. It was bound to eventually and there would be no stopping leaks or keeping it remotely quiet after that happened.



“Toast?”



“Yes, please. I think your owl wants in to deliver the paper,” Hermione pointed to the bird perched just outside the kitchen window.



Draco walked into the kitchen to let the owl in and Hermione went back to her dark musings. So much had happened last night it was hard to keep track of everything. Worst of all, she couldn’t seem to shake the odd feelings she got every time she was near Lucius now. She shook her head to clear it. Best not to think of him the way she had been. He was the grade A prime suspect in these murders after all, twin brother rising from the dead non withstanding.



“Ah, bloody hell!” came Draco’s aggravated voice from the kitchen.



“What is it?” Hermione asked, getting up to investigate the reason for her partner’s annoyance.



“Gods damned Daily Prophet. Short but vicious,” Draco said, handing her the paper.



She sighed as she read the headline. “They certainly didn’t waste any time jumping on this, did they?” she said, brows drawing down into a frown.



Draco gave a disgusted snort before saying, “Of course not. It’s a scandal of epic proportions. Especially since my father seems to be involved in it.”



Hermione shrugged and took another sip of the elixir of life. “Well, it isn’t as though he’s not used to scandal. Gods know he had enough of it during his time as a Deatheater.”



Draco sighed. “That’s certainly true. Though I don’t think he’s inclined to openly court it these days.”



“Mmmhmm. Malfoy, how do you feel about all of this, really? It must come as a nasty shock to think that at very least your uncle may still be alive.”



Draco shrugged. “Honestly, since I never even met the man, I can’t say as I have any connection to him one way or another. I’m more worried about how it will affect my parents. Mother rhapsodizes about him often but I never heard my father speak of him unless it was in passing. Even then it was a rare occasion. What that woman saw at her last moment alive is what bothers me most. But we can’t be entirely certain it was my father even with knowing whose mask the person was wearing.”



“Really, it could have been anyone who knew what Lucius’ Deatheater mask looked like and had the means to replicate it.”



“Well, that narrows things down a bit,” Draco said thoughtfully. “Unless . . .”



“What are you thinking, Malfoy?” Hermione asked.



“Hang on a tick,” Draco said. He walked over to the fireplace, tossed Floo powder on the fire and stuck his head in, calling Malfoy Manor Library. “Father?”



“Yes, Draco, I’m here,” Lucius said, coming around one of the bookcases to stand in front of the fireplace. “What is it?”



“Father, what did you do with your old Deatheater mask? Don’t tell me you just threw it out, it’s important.”



“Of course not. It was too dangerous to just pitch in with the garbage. It was magickally sealed away along with the robes. Unfortunately, those things could not be destroyed. The Dark Lord saw to that.”



“Are those things still at the manor?”



“Yes. They’re in the family vault. Why?”



“Would you please go and check on them. I know it’s an odd request but it might be important. On second thought. If you don’t mind, I think Granger and I would like to be there before you go hunting for them.”



“If that is what you want, son,” Lucius said, for some reason feeling inexplicably nervous. “Just Floo in when you’re ready.”



***



A malicious smile tilted well shaped lips as the headline of the Daily Prophet was read.



“That went much better than even I could have expected. I wonder how you’ll react to this latest onslaught, Lucius. Not as though anyone would know what you were thinking. It’s too bad you’ve become so jaded over the years. One almost misses the studious bookworm you were once upon a time.”



The scraping of a chair could be heard as it was moved away from the table. “Magenta! Columbia!”



“Yes, Master,” Magenta said.



A roll of parchment was shoved into the little elf’s hands. “Make certain this gets to the Daily Prophet.”



“Yes, Master.”



Pausing in front of the mirror in the foyer, the blond smiled at the reflection. “Enjoy your little muggle mistress while you can, Lucius. After I finish with her, she’ll not be nearly as beautiful.”



***Mad Ramblings aka Author’s Notes***



The chant at the beginning of the chapter is by Lynxfeather and it makes me giggle every time I sing it.