CHAPTER TWO

Draco Malfoy had always been a lonely child. The Manor may have been a charming house, but it had always been too large and lonely for his little family. He could remember the three of them rattling around in the house, like three in-congruent pieces of a puzzle that just wouldn't fit together.

But now, glancing down at his father's white face, he wondered whether they had been so bad after all.

The Ministry had sent them a notice last evening instructing them not to bury the body – it would have to be shipped to Ministry premises for an autopsy, they informed them. Neither he nor his mother had been very sure what that meant, but they knew the stupidity of disobeying orders. An Auror had visited them before dinner time, asked them a few questions and put together a report which he said would be handed to his superiors. The paramedics in their pale-green suits had come in early this morning, and had been bustling around ever since.

His mother was crying, but doing a remarkable job of hiding it. Draco knew she had been crying the entire night but this morning, she had woken early, dressed herself in a dark gown and gone about her chores with a dedication that didn't really surprise him. His mother had never been one to give in to her emotions. She had made up her face to hide its deathly pallor and red-rimmed eyes but Draco could see the faint tremor in her mouth.

One of the paramedics materialized in front of him and asked roughly, 'The body hasn't been moved, has it?'

Draco shook his head. 'My mother found him right here in the library yesterday in the afternoon. We closed his eyes, that's all.'

'So his eyes were open,' the paramedic said, thoughtfully. Both their gazes turned automatically toward Lucius Malfoy. In death, he seemed as intimidating as he had when he was alive. His face was snow white and the color had ebbed from his lips and eyelids. As always, he had been dressed in black robes with a gray vest when he died, his fingers curled around his silver-tipped cane. His mother had found him upright in his armchair, with a leather-bound book on the floor beside him.

'Yes,' said Draco, 'His eyes were open. Does that make any difference?'

'It isn't too common,' said the paramedic shortly, and then turned his attention to the body.

Draco felt someone touch his shoulder lightly and turned to face his mother. 'I'm going to my room,' she said, quietly, 'I don't want to watch. Can you attend to this?'

She might have been talking about a tea party.

'Of course,' said Draco, 'You go have a sleep. I'll see you at dinner.'

Somehow, he felt even more alone after his mother swept out of the room. The paramedics put a quick spell on his father's body, covered it with a sheet and then levitated it to the apparition portal they had set up in one corner of the library. Before they left, one of them thrust a sheaf of papers towards Draco,

'Sign here, please,' he said.

Draco frowned. 'What is this?'

'It proves you've consented to this autopsy.'

'I wasn't away I had a choice,' Draco said, cautiously.

The paramedic flashed a quick smile. 'You don't,' he confirmed.

It began to rain that evening so Ginny, who visited around dinner-time to drop off a pot roast her mother had made for Ron, opted to stay over and eat. She had stopped apparating as soon as she got pregnant because she said it made her queasy. Now in her sixth month, she could barely walk on chubby feet, let alone magically teleport her rapidly swelling body back home.

'Never mind,' she said, cheerfully, 'Harry said he'll pick me up when he's done with work.'

'Why is Harry working late again?' asked Hermione, passing her a box of capsicum pickled in brine.

'Oh, you know. The usual. A tramp in Diagon Alley claimed that renegade Death Eaters had tried to kidnap him. A hoax, obviously, but Harry has to still file a report. It'll probably reach you sometime tomorrow, Hermione.'

'It's a good thing you came over, anyway,' Ron said, digging heartily into the pot roast. He paused to wipe a bit of sauce off his chin and then said, 'Hermione's having some trouble over a project.'

Ginny put down her chopsticks and looked up, interested. 'Harry told me you were working on something top-secret. Apparently, his boss is terribly curious about it. The Investigative Research department normally hands projects over to the Aurors, doesn't it?'

'Not this one,' Hermione said, grimly, 'And it's giving me a hell of a time. Do you remember that case which came to the Wizengamot about - was it five months ago? It was about that financial lawyer who fudged up some paperwork to make it seem that Blaise Zabini's bastard wasn't actually his. The mother sued the lot of them.'

Ginny screwed up her nose in an effort to remember. 'Oh, you mean Carletto,' she said, her brow clearing. 'He's generally known to be quite a disreputable fellow, isn't he? Got a couple of years in Azkaban.'

Hermione nodded vigorously. 'That's the one.'

'Delightful chap,' Ron added, dryly.

Ginny frowned. 'But I thought that case went to the Aurors. Harry mentioned it.'

'It did,' said Hermione, 'But we had to go through the guy's paperwork at Investigative Research. It was just protocol, but then we came across something fishy and Ricky decided to set it up as a project.'

'Elaborate on fishy,' said Ginny.

Hermione paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. 'Carletto had a catalog in which he kept a list of all his clients and the kind of service he provided them. Draco Malfoy was one of those clients.'

'Not surprising,' said Ginny, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione laughed. 'I guess not. But the job definitely was. Draco Malfoy had hired Carletto to perform financial crime - he wanted him to fudge around with paperwork so that he could break into a Gringott's trust fund and withdraw a cool fifty thousand galleons.'

Ginny's eyes widened and she whistled. 'He hired Carletto to embezzle money? That's rich. Whose account did he break?'

Hermione grinned. 'His own,' she said.

There was a moment of silence - save for the noise of Ron chewing his roast.

'I don't get it,' Ginny said, finally.

'It was his own trust fund. His grandfather set it up for him when he was born, but he isn't allowed to touch it or make any withdrawals until he turns twenty-five. Malfoy paid Carletto to break into the account and withdraw the entire sum when he was twenty-three - less than a year back.'

Ginny blinked. 'So why didn't you charge him?'

'Because we don't know what's going on exactly,' explained Hermione, 'Malfoy might get around six months in Azkaban for touching his own money before he turned of age. But there could be something much worse going on here - what did Draco Malfoy need that money so desperate for? That's what Ricky wants me to find out. And technically, except for the timing, he hasn't committed much of a crime - so the project stays with Investigative Research instead of going to the Auror Dep. We still need to find out more.'

Ginny nodded slowly. 'Wait a minute. Malfoy's still under surveillance right? As in, aren't his movements being monitored by the Ministry? So why hasn't this cropped up?'

'Because he's gone to great lengths to keep it secret. We tried to trace the money, and finally we found it in Gringotts itself. He had set up another capital account under an anonymous identity and put the money in there. About half of it was withdrawn right away. Otherwise, there have only been small withdrawals over a three month period.'

Ginny whistled. 'Twenty five thousand galleons is enough for Malfoy to buy himself two yachts and a bevy of hookers. Where is this money going?'

Hermione shrugged. 'That's exactly the problem. We have no idea. I've been working on it for three months, but I haven't got a clue. That's where Lucius Malfoy comes in.'

Ginny raised an eyebrow. 'Lucius Malfoy? Didn't he die yesterday?'

Hermione nodded. 'Dropped dead in his own library. I have the file right here. There doesn't seem to have been any foul play but Investigative Research has to put together a report for his inquest. Ricky is sending me to the Manor for a month to do this. Hopefully, I can make some headway on where this money is going.'

Ron suddenly dropped a piece of meat. 'Wait a minute,' he said, 'You're going to be staying there? You didn't tell me that.'

'For a month,' Hermione said, glumly, 'I haven't exactly signed the dotted line yet, but I don't see that I have a choice.'

'A month in the Malfoy Manor might just kill you,' Ron said.

'I know,' Ginny said, quietly, 'And given what you're working on, it might actually kill you.'