The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man

Title: The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man
Author: moirasfate/ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA/NC-17
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Suspense, romance, angst
Warnings: Character Death, graphic violence, madness, non-consensual sexual acts, abuse, oral, M/F, and overall darkness. Dark!Harry included.
Summary: DH-EWE: Ten years after the fall of the Dark Lord, Hermione Granger leads of life of self-imposed obscurity, that is, until the day Headmistress Minerva McGonagall is murdered and a certain 'hero' is responsible.
Author's Notes: This fic is in 1st person POV, so take heed. It will eventually be a DM/HG, but there is a squicky scene that might make you think otherwise. There is some non-con in this fic, so if it squicks you, don't read it for Merlin's sake! Comments and ConCrit is welcomed!

Special thanks to kazfeist for taking on the task of perfecting this part! kazfeist, you have my eternal love and admiration!


The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man

Part 5





I spent the majority of the day in Narcissa’s study, after asking for just some parchment, ink, and quill. Narcissa sat me behind a gorgeous bird’s eye maple desk, setting sheets of cream coloured parchment on a blotter with a ridiculous peacock feather quill and dark emerald ink. I thanked her, reassuring her I was not sending a letter, but marking down some notes.

When she finally left me to my thoughts, I started. I pulled out drawers of stored mental notes, memories, and speculations. By lunchtime, a tray of sandwiches appeared on the coffee table between the two blue velvet couches in the middle of the room. A pitcher of cool pumpkin juice tempted me, and I paused in my scribblings to eat.

When I could feel the sun setting against my back much later, I stopped. My neck was sore, as was my hand. I had pages upon pages of notes, hastily made charts, and diagrams. None of it, however, was complete or made much sense. Almost another full day had passed, and I knew almost nothing new as to why my life had been turned upside down.

I stretched, raising my arms above my bare head, and groaned. There was still a bit of soreness in places, but I preferred the soreness to the pain. I stood and moved to the small fireplace, sliding my wand from my sleeve to magically stoke the fire. The heat felt wonderful against my legs and belly. I gazed into the fire, wondering if my cottage was sound and shut up so the elements could not get inside…

And then, a pathetic mewl caught my attention. It was a muffled sound, and I moved to the door, opening it crack so that a streak of grey could run inside and jump up on the arm of the nearest couch.

“You naughty cat, where have you been?” I asked, betraying my happiness to see my familiar.

Malfoy the cat sniffed, and looked about the room before answering me with a long meow. I grinned and moved to the couch, sitting on the arm next to the grey animal, running my hand from his head to tail, savouring the soft texture of his fur, glad to hear him purr.

“Narcissa would have a fit if she knew you were shedding all over her velvet couch…”

Malfoy blinked his silver eyes and meowed happily. I shook my head, thankful for my familiar’s distraction.

But the distraction did not last long.

I nearly jumped out of my skin as the study door burst open and Malfoy, the Detective Chief Inspector barrelled into the room. His hair was falling in lank strands into his face, and the long black leather coat he wore was soaked with rain.

Ignoring me, he moved to the fire, peeling off his coat, throwing it across the couch I perched upon, startling my familiar who immediately and pointedly ignored the new person in the room. I stood and turned to watch Malfoy kneel by the fire, his turtleneck wet down the front as well as were the hems of his trousers. I could see Malfoy shiver slightly, and I wondered why he had not drawn his wand from the holster to cast a drying Charm.

“Malfoy?”

My voice seemed so small, almost childlike in its questioning, but Malfoy did not answer, his silver eyes flickering in the firelight.

I bit my lip and let my own wand slip from my sleeve again, casting a discreet Charm on his clothes as well as the dripping coat flung across the back of the couch. When Malfoy shivered again, I knew it was not merely from the damp or the cold. I glanced out the casement windows at a mostly clear sky…it was not raining, at least, not in Wiltshire.

Sighing, I moved behind Malfoy to return to the desk, sitting down and staring at the scattering of parchment and the dark green stain of ink on my fingers. I watched him as he rubbed his hands together before the flame, his mouth tightening into a scowl. He was thinking deeply, and I supposed I had had a similar expression on my face earlier in the day at breakfast.

My eyes moved to my familiar who had balanced from the arm of the couch and along the back to sniff at Malfoy’s coat, sneezing softly before craning his feline head to stare at the other creature that shared his name. With a silent jump, the grey cat leapt to the floor and stealthily approached the man before the fire, and with a great sway, rubbed into Malfoy’s bent body. The power of my familiar’s nudge nearly sent the man face first into the fire.

“Bloody menace!” Malfoy sneered, catching himself with a hand on the rug, turning to glare at the cat.

My familiar made a strange noise and moved to Malfoy’s hand, biting the knuckle of his thumb so that the man snarled and recoiled, cradling his hand against his chest, only a little bit of blood colouring his usually colourless skin.

“Granger, you had better control this beast before I blast it back to wherever it sprang from!”

I could feel the laughter in my chest, but I could only smile. After everything, after pouring out my dark thoughts, it seemed a blasphemy to laugh. It would be more natural to cry. But I did neither, laugh nor cry, I could only watch my familiar purr and sway towards Malfoy, teasing the man it was named after.

“Malfoy, that’s enough, leave him alone, he isn’t interested in getting to know you.”

I was surprised at the roughness of my voice and the power imbued in the words. I did not sound like myself, and both Malfoys turned to stare at me with my elbows on the desk, my hands folded under my chin. If Malfoy, the DCI, had fur, surely it would be on end as it was with my familiar.

Obeying my command, the grey cat quickly slinked away, hiding under the coffee table to peer back at me with full-moon eyes. I turned my attention to Malfoy as he unfolded himself to stand next to the fire, his eyes narrowed, his left arm resting on the mantle as he leaned.

“I assume your brusque entrance into the one room I have occupied today is because you have some information for me, Malfoy?”

Again, the roughness. I blinked rapidly, sitting back in the desk chair, my hands curling around the carved maple armrests. Malfoy seemed ill at ease, his face paler than usual, his tongue lashing out to wet his cold lips. I accepted his intense gaze when I would have shied away from it years ago. I was being examined, but why, I could not determine.

“Squeak!” he announced to the air, and I frowned…confused

A soft pop produced a small elf standing just at Malfoy’s feet. I could not see the elf’s face, but its skin was a pinkish colour, and it wore a scrap of what appeared to be a red velvet drape with silver tassels.

“Master?”

I knew why the elf was called Squeak…

“Coffee, no cream or sugar, biscuits…inform the kitchens to keep dinner warm if we should want it,” Malfoy instructed, finally pulled his eyes from me to glance down at the elf.

“Yes, Master…”

And with another soft pop, the elf was gone. Almost instantly a tray with a coffee pot, two blue mugs, a platter of sweet cream biscuits and napkins appeared on the coffee table. The coffee smelled strong, and the biscuits made my mouth water…

“Come, sit, Granger, we have a lot to talk about…” Malfoy purred, pushing off the mantle to move around the couches, taking the one facing the fireplace. I stood slowly and took the opposite couch, his coat near my shoulder and the fire warm against the back of my shorn head.

Malfoy poured the coffee and passed a mug to me, which I took gratefully in my hands, finding that my fingers were icy for some unexplainable reason. When Malfoy sat back with his own coffee, his right ankle resting on his left knee, his right arm thrown over the back of the blue velvet couch, he regarded me again.

“Can I ask you something, Granger?” he asked, the corners of his pale lips curling upward.

I cocked my brow and pulled my mug toward my lips.

“Only if I can ask a question in return.”

Malfoy shrugged, “Quid pro quo…that’s only fair,” he murmured before taking a loud sip of his black coffee.

I waited. Malfoy closed his eyes as he swallowed, savouring his warm potable. I had yet to take a drink. I waited… His pale hand guided his mug to rest on the instep of his boot, his left hand balancing the hot liquid precariously.

“Why did you decide to sever your ties with Potter and Weasley when the three of you were inseparable all through school?”

I took a drink of coffee, and I made Malfoy wait…setting my mug on my knee, holding it with my right hand after I had swallowed. I took a breath and held it for a few moments before exhaling and flicking my eyes to meet Malfoy’s.

“Do you want the simple reason, or the deeper, philosophical reason?”

“Is that your question, Granger?”

I smirked. Tricky ferret…

“Spare me the swan song of your adolescent loves, Granger. The simple, quick, and dirty reason will suffice,” he drawled.

I tried not to let my anger show.

“A few reasons, Malfoy… I wanted my individuality back, I wanted my privacy back, and I wanted my life back. Is that simple enough?”

He grinned, and I immediately felt my mind’s walls rise.

“Not really, Granger, but I can understand. The only thing that troubles me…well, probably not just me, but the press and most of Wizarding Britain, is the real reason why the ‘Golden Trio’ split up.”

I sighed. “This is not a press interview, Malfoy. None of that is pertinent to my current situation or your departmental troubles.”

Malfoy raised his cup and drank deeply from his coffee. His eyes were liquid, the corners pulled from his almost gleeful expression. “True,” he muttered over his coffee.

“So, the reason you want to know is to satisfy some sick revenge you have been harbouring for years?”

I grasped the handle of my mug a bit too tightly and I relaxed my stiff fingers, using my other hand to lift the cup to my lips and drink. I was getting angry, too angry, and I wondered if Draco Malfoy had matured at all, or did he still enjoy riling me as he did at school?

“No, I gave that up years ago. My interest is purely professional…I am simply curious to know what motivations Potter might have in regards to you…you, a friend who has not shown her face to her two best male friends in years.”

“It is true that I have purposely distanced myself from Harry, and Ron, but not exclusively those two people. It has nothing to do with ‘painful memories’ or what the Prophet once called a ‘jilted love.’ I still…I still love them, they will always be my friends, but their need for me is at an end. It ended when Voldemort was destroyed… I could not think for them for the rest of our lives…”

Malfoy barked a laugh, and it startled me. My anger drained away and I felt my energy drain with it.

“So, you can think of no reason why Potter would do what he did to you, or why he pursues you now?”

“Ron is outside his reach, and for whatever reason, Harry wants him…” I muttered before finishing my coffee and sitting it on the tray upon the coffee table. I noticed my familiar curled up under the maple, his head resting on the toe of Malfoy’s boot. Odd…

“Has the thought occurred to you that Potter might want you and Weasley because he cannot function without you?”

It had occurred to me, but it had seemed ridiculous.

“His psychosis suggests that he believes he is still sixteen or seventeen years old. In his mind, the Dark Lord is sometimes defeated, sometimes not…just as Dumbledore is or isn’t still alive…”

I frowned at Malfoy’s words. When I had mentioned the Horcruxes to Harry at the cottage, he reacted with a type of relief, as if I were speaking his language…that I understood.

“But that doesn’t explain everything, Malfoy. It doesn’t explain why he would murder…”

“No, it doesn’t.”

I stared at my empty coffee cup, the details of the night I was attacked billowing up in my third eye…I had already written it down in my notes, but the emotions I had felt myself, and from Harry, could not easily be conveyed in writing.

Aberforth, Minerva, myself, Trelawney, George…there was not a simple connection.

“And here is where I can supply some information.”

I pulled my thoughts back to the moment, gazing at Malfoy as he leaned forward to refill our coffee cups. I took mine, not fully intending on drinking, but to absorb the warmth through the porcelain.

“I went through the early files, the complaint filed by Arthur Weasley to my department…the domestic dispute…”

I blinked. It was hard to believe that the Weasleys would file a complaint against Harry for anything. Granted, from what Arthur had told me, in not so many words, the fact that Harry had struck Ginny was disturbing enough. I suddenly wondered what the circumstances had been for Harry ever to hit his wife, the girl he had loved through the nightmare of Voldemort and long afterward.

“It was the first bit of documentation to Potter’s deteriorating mental state. I was only a Sergeant then, and on a different case…but I knew the Inspector who took Ginny Potter’s statement, and eventually Potter’s statement.”

I nodded for Malfoy to continue.

“I am paraphrasing, Granger. I could never let you see those documents, and you realize everything I have been saying is to stay between us?”

“Of course.”

Malfoy nodded in return. “Ginny Potter was struck across the face resulting in a broken nose and cracked teeth, easily mended, of course, but still enough for the Weasley family to go to such a length as filing a complaint. From what I gathered, earlier in the day Ginny Potter had had an argument with her husband about his work. He was an Auror, when there was a need still…”

I rolled my eyes.

“…but the argument was not heated in the sense that it became physical. More like a wife nagging a husband, from both accounts. But Potter isolated himself in his study for the rest of the day. Ginny Potter entered the study at about seven in the evening, after calls for Potter to come to dinner were ignored. She found him sitting in the floor before the fire, books, and parchment around him. After calling for him several times without a response, she pulled on his shoulder. That was when he hit her.

By Potter’s account, he claimed to have been startled by his wife. By Ginny Potter’s account, she was wilfully and angrily assaulted. I think her statement had words like ‘seething,’ ‘wide-eyed,’ and ‘frightening presence.’

She has been separated from him ever since. That was approximately seven years ago, Granger.”

All I could think to do was frown. I knew Ginny would not be one to stay in a dangerous or abusive relationship, even if it was with Harry. Ginny had learned her lesson very well in her First Year…and that lesson was what had kept her alive now. I envied her strength of character.

“The books? What were…” I began, my sight set upon the notes I had made on the desk.

“There were no details as to what books Potter had in his hands that night.”

I sat up straighter, ready to move to my notes to fill in blanks. It was information, but not as much as I would have liked. It strengthened my speculations, but nothing more.

“But there is a quick description of his study and the items inside when the Aurors came six months after Potter hit his wife…”

Malfoy was baiting me. He wanted another bit of personal information from me, I knew. I met his eye defiantly. All of Wizarding Britain had wanted to extract something personal from me…when I was eighteen, it had been who I had had my heart set on…Ron, Harry, or Viktor Krum. My personal life had been used to sell magazines and newspapers… Malfoy wanted something to use to hurt me.

“What is it you do, exactly, in the Department of Mysteries, Granger?”

Merlin…that again.

“You know I…”

“You cannot tell me…well, Granger, actually you will tell me, as it is information that most likely aid in the capture of Potter before he decides to kill someone else.”

I bit my tongue, literally, to keep me from calling Malfoy out. I would lose my job, if I hadn’t already…I would lose my security clearance, I would lose my only source of income, and my only escape from the mundane life I had made for myself.

“I could recite the policy, Granger, the policy that exempts you for any sort of responsibility to your department while assisting in a criminal investigation, but I’m sure you already know your department’s policies by heart.”

I glared.

“Would you like to fetch a note from your department Head?” he mocked in a simpering tone.

“I am not above hexing you, Malfoy…Detective Chief Inspector or not,” I growled, shifting my arm to let my wand slide into my hand.

“Then you would find that your ‘safe house’ is no longer my family’s home, but Azkaban prison, Granger,” he muttered, meeting my glare with one of his own. “Or, you could just answer the question and continue drinking coffee, sleeping on feather beds, and keeping yourself outside the notice of the press, and Potter.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I was tired, so damn tired, and I knew that I could just as easily ignore Malfoy and not exhaust myself by answering his question…

“I relegate time.”

“Meaning?”

I sighed in frustration. “I work to keep the time of our world from interfering with time in the Muggle world. Our magic, our spells, our structures often coexist or cohabitate in time and space with the Muggle world. Just as there are magical devices to keep our world from being seen by Muggles, I work to keep our essential existence from colliding with the reality of the Muggle world… There is no simple explanation, Malfoy, but my co-workers call me Verdandi.”

Malfoy frowned, moving to drink his coffee again. “Verdandi?”

I took a deep breath. “How is it you were second to me in studies, Malfoy?”

He coughed into his mug, spluttering, his face flushing. “I know who Verdandi was, Granger, do not insult my intelligence. And if you want to be completely truthful about the situation, you didn’t even finish Seventh Year!”

I did not even have the energy or will to laugh at the flustered expression on Malfoy’s face, but I did feel a bit satisfied that I had riled him…

I continued. “I also oversee the usage of what is left of a magical devices called Time-Turners. In fact, you could say that I am the guardian of time…”

Damn…I had not thought of that…

“Granger?”

Harry surely remembered Third Year and my Time-Turner. Did he know anything about my work in the Department of Mysteries? It was unlikely with him being in St. Mungo’s for years, but not impossible. When one is said to work in the Department of Mysteries, there is little else to be said…and it was not a secret that I worked as an Unspeakable, but it was not broadcast to the populace either. Harry could not know about my work, but if he did, it would make me a natural choice to target…

Damn…if he was unable to find the Resurrection Stone, he might try for a Time-Turner…

No. No, it did not make sense. The Stone could only allow you to see a shadow, unless… No, that was silly… I was missing something, a big piece of something.

“Granger!”

I physically jerked at the sound of Malfoy’s voice, spilling a few drops of tepid coffee into the knee of my denims. I set the cup on the tray for the sake of not spilling what coffee was left in the cup on my only set of clothing.

“What are you thinking, Granger?” Malfoy purred, his lips caressing the rim of his cup.

I flushed, despite my aversion to the man. My mind betrayed me, admiring the silver of his eyes, the way his hair fell across his forehead in lank platinum strands, the muscles rippling under his turtle neck and holster…

Stop it!

“I’m just...thinking, isn’t that obvious?”

“Obvious, yes. Annoying to everyone in your vicinity, absolutely…”

He stretched to snatch a biscuit from the tray and bit into it slowly, his eyes still fixed upon me. I tried to let the sudden flush of blood to my face pass, but it did not…

“Now…” he said, licking crumbs from the corner of his mouth. “…is that the general details of what you do, Granger, or is there anything else I should know about?”

I shook my head, “That’s about it. I will sometimes assist in the cataloguing and collecting of prophecies, or assist in recording astronomical phenomena, but I mainly work with time…”

Malfoy ate the rest of his biscuit, swiping at the few crumbs on his shirt, leaning to grab another.

I sat quietly as he ate, trying not to stare at him. And I wondered if I had suffered some sort of brain damage for thinking for an instant Malfoy was not bad looking after all…

“When the Aurors broke into Potter’s study, they quickly subdued him and transported him to St. Mungo’s. Afterward, they returned to fill out their reports,” Malfoy began, but paused as I had opened my mouth to ask…

“Photographs of the room?”

“None. It was not a crime scene…not a criminal investigation. But there was a description in the report, which I will summarize…”

I nodded as Malfoy leaned back further in the couch, ignoring the haughty expression on his face.

“As you can imagine, the room was filthy, there was a note about the smell. Books were scattered everywhere, but the ones that were found around Potter when he was subdued were noted specifically. The first was a copy of ‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard.’”

I swallowed. It had to have been a commercial copy, which I had always assumed was much different from my copy.

“The second was, as we might have feared, ‘The Hanged Man.’”

I closed my eyes.

“The third was a copy of Skeeter’s biography on Dumbledore. There were two different types of books on potions, one banned, one used in Hogwarts curriculum. The last book, which has confirmed a possible motive behind your attack, was a book on time travel, mostly outlining the perils as well as giving instructions on how to avoid detection by the past self. The rest of what was found were notes, all illegible to the Aurors who made the report. I found out this morning that those notes have either been destroyed or are missing.”

Malfoy paused to search my face, but I did not have the energy to work the information out, so I filed it away.

“The only other information worth mentioning was the photographs pinned to the walls in no discernable pattern. Photographs of you, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Sirius Black, Severus Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Fred and George Weasley, Potter’s parents, Remus Lupin, and…myself.”

Malfoy’s face darkened at his last word, and I narrowed my eyes. All of the people he mentioned had been important in some way or another to Harry. Unfortunately, most of those people were dead. Only four of the mentioned names lived still…

“You have put eyes on Neville, I hope.”

Malfoy nodded, grabbing another biscuit and chewing it thoughtfully. I could not make my brain move any longer, and the coffee had not rejuvenated me in the least.

“Mother tells me you spent your day making notes? Anything interesting?”

My eyes were heavy, but I shook my head, forcing myself to stand. Managing to move to the desk, I gathered up my parchments and rolled them in my hand, turning to Malfoy and leaning my hip on the edge of the desk.

“There are too many unknowns, Malfoy…” I said softly, my eyelids getting heavier.

“Granger…”

My eyelids fell, and blessed blackness came with it. Merlin, I was in bad shape… I opened my eyes and stood fully on my feet.

“…go to bed already…”



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




From time to time, I will wake up in a ‘mood.’ The morning after sitting with Malfoy in his mother’s study, I awoke in the early grey hours unexplainably angry. Ron had always said that my sudden outbursts of anger was a cause for general alarm…

I bathed, sitting in the floral scented water, seething. Even when I found that my clothing had been washed, and a fresh set of underwear had been set upon the counter, my mood did not improve a degree. I dressed, my face burning as if actual flames danced on my brow.

I hated my clothes, I hated my face, I hated my lack of hair, and most of all I hated the fact that I was missing a piece of the puzzle that had become my life as of that moment. Helplessness was never a feeling familiar to me, but I felt it, and it made me angry. A part of me knew that this anger was a reaction to the stress…the stress of being attacked by one’s best friend, sexually assaulted, and left alive knowing he would kill again and again.

I crumpled to the marble floor, quaking with silent sobs.

Everything was all-wrong. My life should never have been this way…and I had so little to cherish or look forward to… That much was my fault, cutting myself off from everything and everyone I loved.

I wanted my mother…

My tears slowly dried on my cheeks and in my eyes. I only had myself to rely on in this world. I had to take care of myself, and I had to stop Harry.

It was not as if Harry Potter had ever been my responsibility, but he was…had been…my friend, and…he had attacked me with a brand of evil that I could not imagine.

As I sat on the bathroom floor, I wondered… What was Harry really thinking to himself when he hurt me? Did he believe that he was going to force me to do anything after he had escaped from St. Mungo’s and murdered Minerva? Did he realize how cruel he was?

I wanted to hate my friend, I wanted to pour all my anger and energy in his hating him absolutely, but, I could not… All I could do was try to find his motives, stop him, cure him, if possible.

That brand of insanity cannot be cured, my dear Miss Granger…Severus said in the darkness of my mind.

Hearing his voice, albeit manufactured by my imagination, was a comfort, and my quaking stopped as if someone had grabbed a hold of me. I had to face the truth, whatever it may be, about Harry.

I used the sink counter to pull myself to my bare feet, my reflection shocking me as it had for the past few days. I sniffed and turned away, leaning back against the counter, staring down at my toes. Plan…plan…I had to have a plan of action. First order of business, the Resurrection Stone. The only person that could know anything about it was the person who had given it…willed it…to Harry. That meant a visit to Hogwarts. Second order of business, go home…

I stopped my thoughts. Home… Clean clothes, a few books, especially my copy of Beedle the Bard, my old wand holster…

Third order of business, talk with Alexander Roux, the Department Head, secure the Time Room…

It was a start, and I took a cleansing breath, some of the anger was gone. All that remained was to speak with Malfoy, thank Narcissa, find a basket for my cat, and be on my way. Simple.

Or so I thought.

By the time I left my borrowed room, wandered a bit, listening for life. It was light outside the Manor, and an hour had passed. I found Malfoy in Narcissa’s study, drinking coffee. I had not thought coffee to be so popular for breakfast, I had been the only one I knew to drink it so regularly, but Malfoy sat where he had sat the night before, drinking black coffee, reading the Prophet.

Drawing my wand, I Conjured a second cup and helped myself without asking, taking the same place I had the night before. Malfoy did not acknowledge me as I poured my coffee and took a shortbread biscuit from the tray on the coffee table. I stared at the backside of Malfoy’s paper, seeing nothing of interest, but the front page was a different matter.

Potter Sighted! Wizarding London Braces for the Worst!

“He’s in London again?”

“He’s also been sighted in York, Bristol, and Brighton…all four locations providing strong evidence that he had been there. A diversionary tactic, Granger. Potter may be insane, but he is not stupid,” Malfoy muttered from behind the newsprint.

I sighed, finishing my biscuit with a generous mouthful of coffee to wash it down. Malfoy turned to the Business section of the paper and continued to pretend I did not exist. I could see just over the top of the paper that he had changed his hair from spikes to a groomed, side part, making him appear more mature and more fitting to his age. He wore black trousers and the same black boots as the night before, but I could not study his shirt for the newspaper held before him.

“I need to go home, Malfoy.”

Malfoy did not answer.

“I need to go home.”

Nothing.

I gulped down my coffee, the fire of my anger building. Slamming the cup down on the coffee table, I flicked my wand and Vanished the newspaper so that Malfoy was forced to stare into my face, his arms lifted before him uselessly now that his reading material had disappeared.

Black, fisherman’s knit sweater with a wide collar, chest holster, and visible arm holster on the left forearm under the baggy sleeve.

“Did you hear me?”

Malfoy let his arms fall to the cushions of the blue velvet couch, his eyes burning into my face.

“I was ignoring your idiotic question, hoping you would take the cue, Granger,” he sneered.

“Why idiotic?”

I was still holding my wand firmly, but remembering that I was pointing it a Malfoy in a somewhat threatening manner, tucked it back into my sleeve.

“I am not your bodyguard, Granger.”

I frowned. “I never asked you to be my bodyguard, and I’m not asking you that now. I am simply informing you that I will be leaving to return to my home.”

Malfoy’s sneer seemed to darken the very room. “I am surprised you felt the need to inform me at all. But, the fact is, Miss Granger, you are not to leave this house until the Ministry deems it safe for you to do so,” he mocked with poignancy and enunciation of every word.

I could feel that fire on my brow again. “Why?”

The age-old question.

“Legally, and officially, you are under the protection of the Ministry, until Potter is caught. Unless you want to become a criminal yourself, or more likely Potter’s next victim you are to stay in this house.”

Malfoy’s tone of voice revealed that he would absolutely love to see me out of the Manor, but as a DCI, and the man who had allowed the Manor to be used as a safe house, he had to tolerate my presence.

“I know you don’t want me here, Malfoy, and if I had had a choice in the matter, I would not have darkened your door…but I did not have a choice. So, here’s what I will propose…call your Superintendent, ask for me to be moved. Or find me a bloody bodyguard!”

“No.”

I balked, flying to my feet as if to attack, but I moved around the couch to the fireplace and began pacing before it.

“I need to go, Malfoy, don’t you see?” I gasped, my exasperation beginning to make me sound a bit unhinged and volatile.

“No, I don’t, Granger.”

“I have to stop him…I know I can…”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “You are not a Detective, Granger, there is a matter of protocol you are overlooking.”

My pacing increased, my bare feet sinking into the thick rug as if to slow me down.

“I am a witch, an Unspeakable, and I know more about this than…” I started, my voice raised into a crazed pitch.

“What you are is a victim, and the only thing you are going to do is testify at Potter’s trial, and witness his Kiss. You are not a professional investigator, there are whole departments devoted to that sort of work, so, I suggest you should calm the fuck down and have more coffee!” Malfoy roared, he was quickly on his feet, his arms crossed before his wide chest, the muscles in his neck and cheek twitching unpleasantly.

I ignored his anger. There was no way he could ever understand.

“Doesn’t it frustrate you, a lowly DCI, to be stuck with babysitting the girl he hated in school…the Mudblood?” I mocked, mirroring Malfoy, pausing in my pace to cross my arms before my own chest.

Malfoy’s eyes closed slightly as his jaw clenched, and suddenly with a great burst of palpable energy, he clutched the coffee table and flung it, and everything atop it, across the room. I nearly collapsed into a foetal position, the magic that crackled through the air frightening me, reminding me of the night Harry attacked me.

“I did not choose to become your warden, Granger. Or would you have rather I let Potter rape and torture you? Should I have watched from the Floo as he eviscerated you in your own bed? Should I have simply added your name to the list of the dead? I did not ask for this…for you!

I saved your life, I have kept you safe, I have opened my home and my family to you, Granger. If anything, you should be thanking me on bended knee…or is this how Mudbloods behave in the…”

Smack!

Malfoy’s roar had been deafening, frightening. I honestly can say that his anger manifested itself more strongly than my own, but when he said that word, the word I hated most in the world, my own anger propelled me across the room as if on a gale wind and my hand flew of its own accord. The strike was wickedly painful, my right hand thumping and a corresponding hand mark welling up to bruise on Malfoy’s sharp cheekbone. His head was been forcefully turned, but he gazed down at me out of the corner of his icy eyes, and I immediately regretted what I had done.

He had saved me, he had protected me…but…

I stepped back, the backs of my knees hitting the adjacent couch now that the coffee table was in splinters against the wall, blocking the door. I fell into the couch, dazed, embarrassed, and fixed my eyes on my toes.

“You could never understand, Malfoy, you have always lived in this world and never had a need to know about mine… You can never understand how frustrating it is to love and hate a boy like Harry. He is my best friend, and he means me harm.

My life is tearing itself apart, and everything I have fought for, everything I have believed is disintegrating before my very eyes.

I may be a Mudblood,” I spat, “but I am not defenceless. If you want to ignore my conclusions about Harry’s motives, ignore my right to defend myself, you are no better than an imbecile still living your life in the old times, in the old ways…blinded.”

Malfoy said nothing, but turned his head to stare down at me evenly. The handprint was an angry shade of red still, but I had spoken my peace and I felt better for it.

“I cannot be your bodyguard, Granger. I may be a lowly DCI, but I do have some important work to do…”

The calmness of his voice was alarming.

“I will leave this house with or without your consent, Malfoy. If it makes me ‘bait,’ so be it…”

Malfoy frowned, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers, still standing before me. “You were eavesdropping on our conversation…”

I had said too much, as usual.

“I will speak with the Detective Superintendent about assigning a detail to escort you to Hogwarts at the very least. Your cottage is still closed, and Hogwarts is far as you are going to go, most likely,” Malfoy sighed, bowing his back to shove his hands deeper into his pockets making him appear more like a boy than a grown man.

I nodded. It was all I could expect, I supposed, Hogwarts was my main destination. And I had already imposed myself so much upon Draco Malfoy’s good graces…

Malfoy moved toward the door, drawing his wand and repaired the coffee table and levitated it back to where it belonged in the room…Vanishing the ruined tray, food, and smashed mugs. Without a backward glance at me, Malfoy left the room in wide, determined strides.

I counted to five, and leapt to my bare feet, my toes sinking into the plush, thick carpets, hot on the pursuit. Why had he changed his mind? I had been terrible, rude, and even cruel to him. Did he want me out of his family’s house so badly?

Up the main staircase and down a corridor I had not explored, I just caught sight of Malfoy’s pale hair entering a door halfway down. I kept to the shadows. I pressed my back against the wall next to the door, which was completely shut. I suddenly thought of Fred and George’s Extendable Ears, and my chest burned with unshed tears.

I heard Malfoy’s voice, the timbre rumbling through the door and my chest as he called a name into the Floo. I did not hear the usual noise that accompanied the activation of the Floo, but I soon heard a voice that was not Malfoy’s. The first part of the conversation was lost to me, indistinct. However, after hearing deep laughter, the words became clear.

“…ger is thick-headed, but brilliant, Malfoy. She should have worked for our department, but that French expatriate Roux who acts as head on the ninth level snatched her up first.”

It was a male voice, older, and I guessed it was the Detective Superintendent Malfoy had mentioned.

“You will do whatever Granger needs you to do, Malfoy. And I know how you feel about her…about all of this, but Granger is our best chance at catching Potter. You are up for promotion, Malfoy, remember that. After this case, you’ll have my job.”

More laughter. Alastor Gumboil…it had to be. He had been the head of the Hit-Wizards at the end of the War. With the reshuffling of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I, again, could only guess Gumboil had been made Detective Superintendent of the new ‘police force.’

“Al, this is not about promotion and I am not thinking that far ahead. This is about catching Potter before our world falls apart. With Hogwarts closed and the curfews, the country is reverting back to the old times and petty crime is taking too many of our resources…”

“I know that all too well, Malfoy. For the time being, you will investigate ‘with’ Granger, she is the only ‘surviving’ asset we have, and the only lead we have to Potter.”

“Surely there is someone else who would be better suited… I have more important things to do.”

Malfoy’s voice was polite, but insistent.

“Do you now?”

There was a pause, and I wondered what sort of expression was on Malfoy’s face.

“There is no one better suited, Malfoy. You are my best DCI, and you were given this case because of your affiliations to Potter and his victims. I have four other Inspectors who can handle everything else.”

Another pause and I craned my neck so that my ear was closer to the door. I missed whatever Malfoy had said…

“I know you have been filtering pieces of information to Granger in order to filter it back to us with the pieces put together. You have been working with her for some time now, you might as well make it official. And that is my final word, Malfoy,” Gumboil growled, and even through the door I felt the authority of that voice.

“Fuck!”

It was Malfoy, and the Floo call was over. I took a breath and moved, my bare feet padding over the carpet noiselessly. I almost ran down the corridor to the stairs, going up just as Malfoy left his room, his furious strides propelling him faster than I could move up the stairs. As he passed, he did not acknowledge or notice me, and stomped down the stairs, his face still bearing my hand print, but was flushed with anger as well.

I descended slowly, making my way to the kitchens, hoping to have a proper breakfast. When I entered the threshold, I saw Malfoy at the far end, leaning down to speak with his mother who was staring back at me with an amused expression on her face. I walked down the few steps to the kitchen floor, paying little mind to the elves working all about. Malfoy stood and turned, his eyes flashing upon me. He lifted his chin slightly and strode toward me, but did not stop as he neared, and passed by me as if I did not exist.

I was not offended.

Narcissa beckoned me from across the kitchen and I moved, the stones warm under my bare feet. Merlin, I wanted my boots. Narcissa sipped her tea as I sat near her in the nook, happy to see a plate of breakfast had popped into existence before me. Without prompting, I began to eat as Narcissa watched, the amused smirk still gracing her regal lips.

“Please forgive Draco, Miss Granger.”

I swallowed my egg and dabbed my lips with the cloth napkin provided me. I met her cool gaze as she continued.

“Draco has had a difficult time since the War. Of course, haven’t we all?” Narcissa twittered, but I sensed an edge of nervousness in her laugh.

I nodded.

“This case…Potter…has been the hardest yet…the most personal. So please, Miss Granger, understand…”

Narcissa’s words trailed, as if she was either unable to say more or did not know how to proceed. The guilt I had held in place burst free and threatened to consume me. Narcissa loved her son. And Narcissa had been nothing but kind to me, and I knew it was not simply because I was a guest of sorts.

“Be careful, Miss Granger,” Narcissa whispered, and my blood ran cold, the warning in her words laced with an undercurrent of maternal magic. She grasped my left hand, her fingers cold around mine.

I nodded again. “Mrs. Malfoy…” I whispered, surprised at the emotion in my voice. “There is so much…so much I would like to ask you, but I suppose…”

I did not finish, the sound of Malfoy’s booted feet pounding against the stones making me glance up and across the kitchen. Narcissa squeezed my hand before releasing it, leaving an icy sensation upon my skin.

“Five minutes, Granger.”

Malfoy could barely contain his annoyance as he stood before the nook, his silver eyes flashing, as if expecting me to object, but all I did was blink rapidly, surprised.

“Don’t give me that blank look, Granger. I know you were listening…”

When I said nothing, Malfoy nodded to himself and turned on his heel, stomping out of the kitchen again. He was already in his long coat, his face set.

“Return, Miss Granger…there are many things I would like to tell you when times are better suited for such things.”

Narcissa Malfoy had said what I had attempted to say with much more grace that I could muster, and as I extracted myself from the nook, and my breakfast half-eaten, I turned to smile at the Lady of the house. I had been very wrong about this woman, and I hoped deep inside that I would have the ability to speak as candidly with her in the future as I had during my time spent in her home.

“Don’t worry, Miss Granger…Draco will take great care with you, despite his gruffness. He is an officer, a bit rough around the edges, but the model of an officer. He has been a boon to us…and someday, hopefully soon, I will tell you about it all…”

I smiled.

“Could you…could you possibly watch after my cat while I’m away. I can’t…”

“Of course, dear. He’s part of the family now, and has taken a particular liking to sleeping on Lucius’ lap.

Hurry now…”

I finally left Narcissa Malfoy’s presence, and I hoped it would not be the last time I would sit with her in the uncharacteristically homey kitchen of Malfoy Manor.