A/N: So this chapter is way longer than I intended because I wanted to establish everyone's role in the team before the next chapter, when Draco's revenge will be the main focus. Also I'm going out of state, so it'll be a while before I update.

As always, please review. As much as I love writing this, it does take up a lot of time! I'll update this story AFTER this chapter gets 10 reviews. You can do it ;)

Also still no beta, so forgive mistakes!

Thanks for reading!


Chapter 4

Granger said nothing to him. He could feel her pitying stare, though. It burned into the side of his face and neck, scalding his pride. He heard her feet shuffle as she shifted her weight from her right hip to her left. She let out a barely audible sigh.

Then the sound of unhurried footfalls grew louder until he saw Lovegood in his periphery, just as she placed a steaming cup of dark tea on his desk, directly under his face.

"Would you like cream and sugar?"

He couldn't help it. He half-laughed, half-sobbed at her painfully oblivious question. The smell of fresh, hot tea wafted to his nostrils and a powerful urge to vomit overcame him. He rose fluidly to his feet and walked away, toward Mafalda Hopkirk's unoccupied office, running a hand through his hair. He had no idea where he was going, but he couldn't stay here. Receiving mournful looks from Lovegood was one thing, but he couldn't stomach Granger's pity.

He heard the blonde witch behind him ask her friend, "Did I say something wrong?" and imagined Granger assuring her with some facial expression that she was not to blame, that he was crazy and to ignore his eccentric behavior.

But she surprised him. The pressure of her warm hand on his shoulder caused him to stop. She'd had to sprint to catch up to him, but she wasn't out of breath. In fact, he was sure she hadn't breathed since he'd showed her the letter.

Turning slowly, steeling himself against whatever hollow words of consolation she would attempt to offer, he resolved all over again to find Elias Grey and kill him, tortuously; a new grievance had been added to the long list against his family's murderer. He was about to be comforted by Hermione Granger, perhaps the only living person on earth he had tortured as much as himself.

Her hand fell away from him once he'd turned to face her. She looked more businesslike than he'd expected. Her shoulders were square, her back straight, her chin lifted slightly. Her eyes weren't sad; they were burning with intent. Draco kept his face impassive, certain it didn't betray the surprise he felt. He'd gotten particularly good at hiding his emotions.

"I'll need to see that memory, you know. It's evidence, and I'm the lead Auror on this investigation. Not now. I know you'll need some time. But soon." Her brow furrowed and she tucked her chin, reminding Draco of his mother's reaction when he disappointed her. "Malfoy, I need to know that you're here. One hundred percent focused. We have a job to do. If you think you need to call it a day, that's fine. Take all the time you need. But I have a job to do, and I can't do it if I'm..." She trailed off then, swallowing hard. Draco blinked.

"If you're worried I'm going to fuck something up?" he supplied unhelpfully. Granger blushed, pursing her lips. "I have to say, I find this very...crass of you. I thought you were going to offer to buy me a new pet or something."

"I don't mean to be crass. I am just as concerned for your welfare as I am for my case. If you're distracted, you could be hurt. I don't want that to happen. I want to help you, and I promise to do that, but there is an order in which things must be done. We can't lose our bearings because new evidence has come up in an old case-"

"It isn't new," he said firmly. "It's always the same. Every year around the anniversary he sends me the same memory." Draco shut his eyes tight and reached into his pocket to collect the vial. He brought it out and held it in front of him so Granger could see. She narrowed her eyes at it, then caught his gaze, asking for permission. He nodded.

"Why would he send the same memory over and over?" She pondered as her fingers closed around it, brushing against Draco's palm. She held it up close to her face, as though she expected it to explain its owner's intentions. "You're sure there isn't the slightest difference?"

"Positive. I've kept them all. Watched them all. The thought had occurred to me that he could be sending me clues, out of arrogance, because he likes this game. But there's nothing. It's..."

"Sick. He's unwell."

Draco scoffed. "I never should have doubted your detective skills. He's killed at least twenty people, and now you've decided he's unwell."

"No, I mean, of course he's sick. But that's the definition of insanity: Doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result. And I don't believe he's insane. I believe everything he does is calculated. He expects you to glean something from this to help you make your own move."

"Perhaps he's overestimated my abilities."

Granger held the vial in the palm of her hand, weighing it thoughtfully. She bit her lip.

"What is it, Granger? You're doing that thing you do when you're worried you're right about something." He gestured to his own lip.

"Huh? Oh." She relaxed her face, and took a deep breath. "I think...well, there has to be some information in this that will advance the 'game' as you put it. But...now isn't the time." She sighed, and withdrew her wand from her pocket. She conjured a protective shield around the vial, preventing it from being contaminated by further handling. "I'll place this in the evidence lockup. Once we've handled this Deacon Candor case, we will take a look at this together."

Draco's eyes never left the shimmering object in Granger's hand, even when she mumbled another spell, causing the vial to levitate and abruptly whisk away down the hall. Once it disappeared from sight, he realized Granger was serious about "later" and his face hardened into a scowl. He caught her arm just as she began to move away.

"I know you don't expect me to put this off. He may send me the same memory every time, but I always...always watch it, just in case. If this time there's something new, I need to know about it now."

Granger carefully removed her arm from his grasp, her brow furrowed in caution.

"The Elias Grey case has been ongoing for years, Malfoy." She stepped back and crossed her arms against her chest, reminding him of the bossy witch from Hogwarts. "It's highly unlikely the memory is going to show you his face, name and exact location. We will need all our attention focused on it, and right now, we're in the middle of an investigation. Candor was murdered last night. We are most likely to catch a murderer within forty-eight hours of the crime. The clock is ticking on this. I'm sorry," she said, a little softer, "but the memory will have to wait."

Draco's hands tightened into fists and his jaw clenched so painfully his teeth hurt. He turned his head to look off in the direction the vial had gone.

"Don't even think about it," Granger sighed, turning away. "Only an Auror can get into the evidence room." She paused, looking back over her shoulder, and watched Draco swallow hard, still staring down the hall.

"I made a promise, Granger," he said solemnly, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he was looking at her with resolve on his face. He didn't need to tell her that he was talking about the promise he'd made to the corpses of his wife and child...his vow to avenge them.

"I know you did," Granger replied, biting her lip. "And I'll make sure you keep it."

-:-

While Lovegood was going through her notes on what she and Longbottom had seen at Candor's flat, Wood returned from speaking to the owner of Candor's favorite pub. He shot a pointed gaze in Draco's direction, then ignored him as he made a beeline for Granger. He tapped her elbow with two fingers; Draco realized Wood still found it necessary to touch her.

They all sat in the large open area of desks, which Lovegood called the "bullpen." Draco had relaxed enough to take his seat at his own desk, calmly leaning back and determined to hear every detail so as to wrap up this case as quickly as possible.

Longbottom had been in his office through the entire incident with the letter. He came to join them just as Wood took a seat.

"So, to summarize," Lovegood said, "we didn't find anything. It doesn't appear that Candor has been to his flat in a week, at the least."

"Yeah, Boss," Longbottom said. Draco rolled his eyes. "He must have been staying with his fiancé. There were a lot of pictures of her, a couple of his parents, but nothing weird."

"Same story as his office," Granger chimed in. "Doesn't look like there was a struggle. The Ministry technicians are going to review the last spells Candor cast, to see what he was doing just before he was killed. What about the security company?"

"Oh, yes," Lovegood said, picking up the stack of parchment she'd given Granger earlier. She picked up the top page, which Draco could see had the security company's letterhead. "The company is called WandLock. They owled this immediately after I contacted them. It's a list of all the services they offer, and an explanation of how they work. Apparently Walledge, Whitford and Hendricks was very well protected. The owner of WandLock says they're still trying to figure out how their system was breached."

While she spoke, Granger took the list and began reading, her eyes rapidly moving across the parchment. Wood leaned in to read over her shoulder. Draco watched closely, but there was no trace of a reaction from the witch. Wood, however, glanced too often at her exposed neck. Draco smirked. He'd been right, of course. He loved being right.

"I see here there was Muggle surveillance equipment installed at every exit to the outside. They must have been Disillusioned. Malfoy and I didn't see them when we were there." She read a few other options on the list aloud, including the information Tiffany had shared about lift codes; the same code was also required for the door to the stairs. They were changed in the morning, afternoon and just after close of business.

"So it has to be someone on the inside. It's got to be an employee who killed our victim, otherwise they couldn't use the lift after hours, when Candor was killed." Longbottom leaned back against an unoccupied desk beside Draco's, his face scrunched in thought. Draco delighted in thwarting his assumption.

"Not necessarily. Could have been, sure. But an employee of the security company, or the law office? Ah, no, I've got it," he said, smiling widely, holding his hands up as though straightening a portrait on the wall. He leaned back in his chair and propped his legs up on his desk, crossing them at the ankles. "The killer waited in the lobby until someone else came in to use the lift, then just followed them inside and watched them put in the code. Then they could hide in an empty office until closing time, and kill Candor unobserved. Does that expand our pool of suspects?"

The others just stared at him. Lovegood looked serene as usual, but Wood and Longbottom glared daggers. Granger, though, surprisingly just nodded.

"You're right. It's definitely a possibility." She flipped through the pages to double-check. "This says fifteen minutes before the code is changed, 'a designated employee receives an owl with a new four-digit code. This employee then forwards the code to all remaining staff via the method of the employer's choosing, excepting after close of business.' So only one person knows the code to get back inside after closing time."

Her eyes scanned further down the page and a sly smile appeared as she discovered some juicy bit of information. "Look, Malfoy," she said, reaching toward him with the parchment outstretched. "This may be of some interest to you."

He took the paper with a quirked brow, keenly aware of everyone's eyes on him as he scanned the information.

"Ah. Tiffany Swift is the 'designated employee.' She knows how to get in after hours." He rubbed the lower half of his face with one hand, feeling the prickly stubble there. "So?"

Granger snorted.

"'So?' What do you mean, 'So?' Either your little friend is in on the murder or she killed Candor herself. You just don't want to admit it because you didn't read it on her while you were flirting your smug face off!" Her jaw tightened as she clenched her teeth. Maybe Draco had been too mean to Neville. He quirked another eyebrow, because he now knew it annoyed her. Then, as though she'd never lost her temper, the lines in her face relaxed and she released a heavy sigh. "I apologize. That was unprofessional. This has been the most unusual day of my life, and that's saying something."

Draco nodded. "Also, you're a little irritated you didn't peg Tiffany for a killer. It was an honest mistake. Don't beat yourself up about it." He shrugged.

Granger's anger stained her face red all the way to her hairline.

"But just so you know, you weren't totally wrong." He smiled. "If Tiffany is an accomplice, she's an unwitting one. I'm sure she realizes now that she's partially responsible, and that's why she wasn't forthcoming about knowing the evening code. Makes her look quite suspicious." Draco cheered inside at the fascinating reaction Granger was having to his goading. She appeared likely to implode at any moment.

Wood cleared his throat and straightened, looking intensely at Draco.

"How about unless a thought is necessary, you don't express it." His tone was cold and full of warning. To Draco, this felt like another day at Malfoy Enterprises.

"I'm just having a little fun with her. If you think she can't handle it-"

"I never said that."

"Then don't interrupt the grown-ups while we're talking."

Wood took two long strides forward until he was less than a meter from Draco, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Staring coolly down at him, Wood spoke.

"You don't belong here, Malfoy. We've all worked too hard to put up with your bullshit. You've been here less than a day, and you already think you're better at our job. Figure out who killed your family on your own, since you think we're all incompetent."

"Oliver," Granger said, and Draco saw his shoulders immediately relax a fraction. "Let's not do this right now. I appreciate the effort, but it's not worth it."

Longbottom stepped forward, placing a hand on Wood's shoulder and speaking softly.

"She's right, mate. Don't waste your time. It's just Malfoy being Malfoy." He didn't seem offended in the least; Draco could read him like an open book. He was wary of Draco, more so than the others, but he was more comfortable when Draco was behaving as he was now. He was used to it, and familiarity felt good when you were trying to wrap your head around working with a former Death Eater who tortured you in childhood.

"No," Granger said, surprising him again. "What he said is right. He noticed things about Swift that I didn't." She looked at him, a barely-there smile on her lips. Draco kept his face blank, and after a moment, her smile disappeared. She cleared her throat and turned to Wood. "So, what happened with the pub owner?"

"Very little," Wood quipped, slipping easily back into his professional role. "He moonlights as the barkeep. Says Candor's parents were both Muggles, killed in the war. Candor talked about them a lot, and being stressed at work. More lately than usual. He never gave a reason why though."

Granger nodded and tucked her frizzy brown curls behind her ears. Draco knew she was thinking about her own Muggle parents and thanking a higher power that they'd lived, then feeling guilty that Candor's had not.

"Right. Well...Neville, you take Luna and visit WandLock. Tell them you'd like to see footage from their Muggle surveillance cameras." The two of them nodded and glanced briefly at each other. Longbottom blushed and swallowed thickly, then focused on his shoes. Lovegood just blinked.

"Wood, pick up Tiffany Swift. Put her in room four, but don't interview her yet." Granger straightened her robes and checked her pockets for her wand and her Anti-Apparition device. Lovegood and Longbottom slipped down the hall to the lift. "Malfoy and I will go speak with the judge and the fiance, then join you."

Wood said nothing, only nodded. Draco watched him with well-hidden fascination. He was quite good at hiding what he was feeling and thinking (except when it came to Granger). But Draco knew he wanted to curse him into oblivion, and that stopped him from mouthing off as he and Granger passed by him on their way out of the bullpen.

-:-

The walk from the gate to the front door of Judge Henry Walledge's estate might have been a pleasant one if Hermione thought she could get away with Conjuring a muzzle on Malfoy.

He asked her a barrage of questions, most of which she didn't have the answers to, and all of them were about one subject.

"Where would you like to start with the Elias Grey case?" he asked, taking in the manicured gardens and gazebo; Walledge obviously loved to showcase his wealth and success. Hermione imagined he must be comparing himself to Walledge. Both were from centuries-old Pureblood families, a man after Draco's own heart. Well, the way his heart used to be.

Malfoy withdrew a cigarette from a pack inside his robe pocket and lit it with his wand. His habit surprised Hermione; she could count on one hand the number of Pureblood wizards who smoked Muggle cigarettes. Voldemort may have been defeated, but some wizards held onto their bigotry. She decided that moment wasn't the time to ask him about it.

"I'm not sure," she said, biting her lip and squinting against the sun. "We should probably review his very first kill. I've already put in a request to Mafalda for the records. It may take a few days before we can get them released to us."

"Oh yes, Mafalda Hopkirk. 'Departmental Secretary.' Have you worked with her long? Do you like her?" He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, and Hermione oddly felt like they were taking a casual stroll as friends, enjoying the springtime.

"Er, yes. Ever since I started as an Auror. Before that, she worked in Improper Use of Magic. But…things happened during the war," Hermione said, blanching, as she decided to skip that explanation. "She's become a friend." She turned to scrutinize his face. "Why are you so interested in Mafalda?"

"Well, she was there when I came to the Ministry to give my statement. I want to know everything about anyone who has connections to my family's case." He shrugged and continued his leisurely pace. Hermione noticed with relief that they were nearing the mansion. They could have Apparated much closer, but Malfoy had insisted they walk so he would have a few moments to smoke.

"So, you know everything about Finnegan and his team?"

"Obviously, Granger. I make it my business to know everyone else's business. My company hasn't enjoyed such great success out of luck. I've learned how to read people, how to manipulate them into telling me what I need to know." A sudden grin split his face. "And if that doesn't work, I'm not above bribery. It's the Slytherin in me."

"Well, I'm sure you're aware that bribery is against the law. If I ever find out you're offering bribes to solve these cases-"

"You'll arrest me?" His barking laughter caught her off guard.

"Yes, Malfoy. And Shacklebolt will toss you out on your arse," she warned sharply. "My team follows the rules, so you'd better learn them quickly."

Malfoy stopped walking and Hermione stopped after a few more paces, turning her body half towards him.

"What are you doing? We're almost there."

"You listen to me, Granger," he snarled, his face completely different than it had been seconds before. "I do not respond well to threats. As I said, I need to be here to find my family's killer. Nothing will keep me from Elias Grey. And if you try to stand in my way-you-" he took a step forward, his hands shaking, but Hermione refused to step back. He took another step until he was nearly in her face, his grey eyes swirling with venom. "You will regret it."

She'd half expected him to call her 'Mudblood,' but he didn't.

Hermione fought hard to maintain a professional demeanor. Until Malfoy had landed in her lap, she had prided herself on remaining calm and diplomatic even when being screamed at by suspects, haughty wizards; Purebloods who thought surely there must be another Auror with better blood who could handle their case. Even sometimes a grieving family member she had to question would lash out at her. But she'd always stayed serene, keeping her voice gentle, apologetic.

She didn't know what it was about Malfoy, but her armor was cracking, and serenity was not in the cards for her. Not today.

"You know what, Malfoy? I've had it with your fucking attitude." She whipped out her wand, uncharacteristic of her under these circumstances; he'd somehow known she was going to do it, and his own wand was out just as quickly, barely a meter from hers.

"Going to Stun me, Granger? Think you're scary, do you? You have no idea what I've seen!" he spat, and stepped closer. Their wands were a few centimeters apart. Hermione ignored her pounding heart. It was an odd setting for a duel; birds chirping and flowers blooming and the gentle sound of water rushing through a fountain.

"You've seen your family die. Your child. You're right, I can't imagine," she panted. "But I've fought in a war. I've done this job nearly ten years. I've seen enough horrible things to last me a thousand lifetimes. I don't use it as an excuse to be vicious! I'd never take someone's life as revenge. That's not who I am!" She yelled, and Malfoy momentarily stopped glaring at her. Hermione realized her wand was now poking into his chest, and her eyes widened.

Here she was, in front of the home of a murder victim's family, ready to Stun a work colleague. Talk about unprofessional.

Slowly, she lowered her wand. Malfoy never took his eyes away from her. She vaguely realized the tip of his weapon was prodding into her left side, just below her rib cage.

"I don't think this is who you are, either," she said gently. Malfoy's pupils widened very slightly, and the pressure against her skin lessened. As she spoke again, she carefully tucked her wand away, making exaggerated movements so he could see what she was doing. "You're angry, and sad, and lonely. I want to help you, but you have to let me." Putting both hands up, palms facing him, she licked her lips, awaiting a response.

The platinum blond wizard's expression withered. He looked bored now, his lips twisted slightly with disdain. But his eyes were softer. Not trusting, but perhaps wanting to. Wanting to believe her. But in all likelihood, she was imagining that.

As quickly as their fight began, it ended. He didn't take his eyes away from hers as he pocketed his wand.

"Reading people is my bit, Granger. Stick to what you know."

He continued walking again, stepping around her. Before she had a chance to gather her bearings, Malfoy had reached the front door of Judge Henry Walledge's six-hundred year old mansion.

Malfoy looked back at her and quirked an eyebrow.

"Are you planning on moving sometime today?"

Hermione blinked. After another moment, she joined him on the steps leading up to the door. Malfoy watched her closely, and Hermione thought she detected a sliver of mirth in his eyes. She tried to think of something to say. His demeanor had changed so abruptly that she wasn't sure how to act. Then those same grey eyes rolled in impatience before refocusing on her.

"Right. I suppose I'll knock, then."

Malfoy rapped the silver knocker against the heavy wooden door three times and stepped back to stand beside Hermione to wait for a response. He didn't speak or look at her, and she realized she was openly staring.

"Try not to gape like a fish, Granger. It doesn't suit you." He lowered his voice slightly and leaned closer to her ear. "You should let me do most of the talking."

"And why might that be?" she asked, knocking again, harder than Malfoy had.

"Because Walledge is a Pureblood. He'll relate to me. Plus, he obviously values wealth and business acumen, both of which I possess. And there's the fact that I'm sort of a murder victim, too, just as they are."

"Deacon Candor is the victim. The only person who has actually been murdered."

"How cold and unfeeling of you, Granger. I'm shocked."

"Right. You know what, Malfoy? I've been doing this job a lot longer than you have, so why don't you just stick your-"

"What business do you have here?" a small, disheveled house elf asked. The door had opened in the middle of Hermione's tirade, and her face flushed with embarrassment. She cleared her throat, ignoring Malfoy's snicker.

"I am Auror Hermione-"

"Draco Malfoy, as I'm sure you're aware, and my work colleague from the Ministry, the Saintly Hermione Granger. We need to speak with your master. It's urgent. Run along and fetch him." Malfoy's tone was light and disinterested as he inspected his nails. The elf's wrinkled eyelids lowered, its eyes narrowing into thin slits. It opened the door just wide enough that they could squeeze through. Malfoy entered first; Hermione rolled her eyes and shut the door behind them, just as she heard the "pop" signaling the house elf had Apparated. She immediately turned to glare at Malfoy.

"That was rude!" she whispered harshly. "House Elves do have rights now-"

"Did you see the state of him, Granger? He doesn't have rights in this house. He probably enjoys the abuse." He stepped further into the grand foyer, admiring the dark furniture and gilded mirrors. The heels of his shoes clicked against the marble floor. Hermione followed behind him, glaring at his back. Looking around the room, she could tell everything in it was of the highest quality, but she was sure she couldn't appreciate it the way Malfoy did.

"What an awful thing to say."

"The truth is often awful. Isn't that what they teach you on day one of 'Insufferable Auror Training Camp?'" He'd stopped in front of a glass cabinet framed with the same dark mahogany wood. Inside it were many jeweled trinkets, a few twinkling in the light of the many candles floating above their heads. Malfoy opened the door and reached inside, choosing one at random to pick up and inspect.

Hermione had been examining three of the portraits on the walls of sneering old wizards, labeled as the founders of Walledge, Whitford and Hendricks. The heirs of Whitford and Hendricks had died mysteriously, so Henry Walledge now owned the business. There was another portrait of Walledge's ancestor. They all seemed ready to berate her for daring to come inside, when she realized what Malfoy was doing.

"Malfoy! Don't touch that!" she hissed, reaching out to snatch the bauble away. He turned his torso just in time so that her hand connected with his upper arm. Smirking childishly, he stretched the item far above Hermione's head, out of her reach.

"Jump, Granger. Go on. Ask me how high."

She reminded herself that if she did murder him, she'd be buried under paperwork for days, and Kingsley might be a little miffed. She snorted, crossing her arms against her chest, struggling to come up with a witty retort.

"Well, this is interesting," a gravelly voice cut across the room, and they both turned to look at the foot of the massive staircase. The judge stood there in solid black robes, a forced smile stretching his pale skin. "So you're the more-than capable Auror Shacklebolt promised to deliver. And a famous one, no less. How intriguing. But I expected your visit." His dark eyes narrowed into thin slits as they moved down her body. Hermione suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Then the judge's gaze quickly shifted to her companion. "Little Malfoy, though; it is quite surprising to see you here."

"Mr. Walledge, we need to talk to you about Deacon," Hermione hedged.

"Ah, poor boy. Devastated by his passing, absolutely. My daughter is shattered. Hasn't stopped crying since we heard the news. Have you caught the one responsible?" As he walked closer to them, he pushed his hands into his robes. Hermione felt Malfoy stiffen beside her, but she noticed his face remained pleasant and attentive.

"Er, not yet, sir," she offered lamely.

"Then what do you have to tell me? Have you made any progress at all? You can't have so many questions. I already gave my statement to the other constables. They were here hours ago."

He made no effort to hide the condescension in his voice, but Hermione had expected as much.

"No news. We need answers of our own, and we'd really appreciate it if we could speak with you and Melanie." She felt Malfoy incline his head minimally to look at her, perhaps impressed with how unaffected she seemed. But she doubted it. He was annoyingly perceptive.

"She's indisposed." The judge said immediately. "Perhaps I can speak on her behalf?"

"I understand she is grieving, but I'm afraid her cooperation is necessary. Mr. Malfoy and I won't keep you any longer than we must."

Walledge pressed his lips into a firm line.

"Very well, but you should know this displeases me. I will be speaking with Shacklebolt."

"If you feel so inclined," Hermione replied stiffly.

"And you haven't spoken once, Malfoy. What is your business with Hermione Granger?" He said her name with a smirk, communicating quite clearly that he thought this was pathetic on Malfoy's part.

"I'm assisting her with a few cases, Walledge. Nothing more."

"Ah? Of course. Even thebest of us need a little help sometimes, eh, Miss Granger? Pims!" He called, and his house elf popped into the room. He didn't check to see if the elf was there. "Collect Melanie for me. Promptly."

-:-

After being led on a blissfully brief tour, during which Walledge told Malfoy at least thirteen times not to touch something, they entered a drawing room with a roaring fireplace where they would conduct their interviews. It being the middle of spring, Hermione imagined this was deliberately done to make them uncomfortable.

A pretty redhead in her early twenties was already there, and she rose immediately when she registered who they were. Hermione took note of her wrinkled robes, swollen eyes and the sodden handkerchief she was twisting absent-mindedly.

"What are they doing here, Father? Have they caught Deacon's killer?" she asked, her bottom lip, quivering.

"No, darling. They're here because they think we are involved somehow."

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"That's not why we're here at all, Mr. Walledge. Melanie, we would like to ask you a few simple questions about Deacon, if that's okay." Hermione gestured to the love seat where Melanie had been sitting, and she nodded in consent. Both women sat on the love seat. Walledge regally lowered himself into a rather uncomfortable-looking, ludicrously expensive chair. Malfoy remained standing silently. Hermione smiled softly at the distraught woman beside her. "I'm Hermione Granger, and this is Draco Malfoy. Wizarding Commissioner Johnson has turned Deacon's case over to my team of Aurors. I realize you've already answered a lot of questions, but I wanted to speak with you personally." Her voice was gentle, featherlike. Malfoy watched her with sharp interest, but she didn't notice.

"I told the other investigators everything…and it's painful to talk about this," Melanie sniffed, managing a watery smile. "But I'll try."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you. Even something small can help in a big way."

Malfoy chuckled and spoke for the first time. All eyes snapped to him.

"Really. But she wants big stuff if you've got it. I mean Granger's a workaholic, but she's not above taking a shortcut every now and again."

Malfoy didn't try to hide his pleasure at seeing Hermione's face contorted in poorly-concealed rage.

"Malfoy, please," she ground out. She gave him a hard stare, then returned her attention to the other witch. "Melanie, I apologize. Anything you can tell us, anything you can remember, we'll be glad to hear."

The judge, who had been tapping his fingers agitatedly against the arm of his chair, cleared his throat loudly.

"Don't say anything if it makes you uncomfortable, Melanie. You have rights."

Melanie ignored him completely.

"What would you like to know?"

"Now, Melanie-" the judge started again, forcing his daughter to address him.

"No, Daddy. They're trying to help Deacon. We have to cooperate. Both of us," she said pointedly.

Malfoy laughed again, a sound that Hermione was quickly realizing was a warning that he was about to say something she would not approve of. She tried to capture his gaze and silence him with a look, but he had his back to her, slowly circling the room, taking in the titles of books on shelves and portraits sneering at him.

"Well, it's all a matter of opinion really, but being dead, Deacon is rather beyond help. It's you we're trying to get justice for-"

Melanie let out a sob that seemed to rip through her chest, and Hermione felt her own stomach drop.

"Now look what you've done!" Walledge said, jumping to his feet. "Who do you think you are? Pureblood or not, I'll have you prosecuted to the full extent-"

"No, Daddy. I-I apologize. It's all very fresh." Melanie dabbed at her eyes with the soiled handkerchief. "We-we just decided on a wedding theme last week. And now I'll be planning his funeral...his...his parents aren't alive to do it, you see-" her voice cut out, and Hermione felt compelled to place a hand on the witch's shaking shoulder.

"Melanie, your grief is understandable. We don't want to upset you further, but-"

"I want to help. I'll tell you anything you want to know." She sounded a bit more in control. Hermione smiled.

"Thank you." She patted her shoulder and returned her hand to her lap. Walledge was near to bursting with rage. His voice shook when he advanced toward Hermione, clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles were white.

"I insist that our solicitor be present for this unjust interview -"

"Sir, please take a step back-" Hermione cautioned, reaching toward her robes where her wand was. She couldn't look at Malfoy, but she thought she saw him reaching for his own wand out of the corner of her eye.

"I'd like to speak with you privately, please." Melanie whispered the words so softly, it took a moment for her father to absorb them. When he did, he looked even more livid than before.

"Melanie, don't you dare-"

"Where would you like to talk?" Malfoy interrupted, appearing just behind the love seat, smiling his most charming smile to put the small witch at ease. He reached out a hand to help her get to her feet, and she tentatively took it. As soon as she'd collected herself, Malfoy withdrew his hand. "I apologize for being so rude before. This is my first day working with the Aurors."

Melanie studied him for moment, seeming to finally come to a decision that he wasn't the spawn of Voldemort. Hermione stood, rolling her eyes and not caring if she looked ungraceful. Of course Malfoy could charm his way out of the situation.

"It's okay. You're right, anyway. Deacon is…he's not with us anymore. I appreciate your honesty." Melanie inclined her head, and Draco offered her his hand again, along with a grin. "I'd like to talk in the garden. Deacon showed me how to plant flowers the Muggle way there. We actually...we were going to plant rose bushes next week..."

Malfoy led her from the room, still sniffling. Hermione followed after them, mumbling under her breath.

"I'll have your job for this!" Judge Walledge called after her. "Come tomorrow morning, you'll be serving butterbeer at The Leaky Cauldron. I won't stand for this kind of treatment!"

Hermione reached the door just after Malfoy and Melanie had gone through it. She plastered a professional smile of apology on her face and took a deep breath before turning around to face the judge. She automatically repeated the same line she'd said dozens of times.

"I apologize for any offense we have caused. If you would like to make a complaint, you may owl our office directly, and someone will be in touch." Hermione turned and left, pulling the door closed behind her.

After talking with Melanie for half an hour, they left her in the garden and started their walk back across the grounds toward the mansion.

They passed by the small plot of land where Melanie said they'd planned to plant roses. Candor had already prepared the earth; Melanie tearily recounted how he'd always done the hardest of the work for her.

"I think it's safe to say dear Miss Walledge is in the clear," Malfoy remarked casually.

"Why were you so rude to her? Did you need to remind her that her fiancé was dead at that PRECISE moment?"

"I needed to gauge her reaction. The depth of her despair. Her tears were genuine. She's innocent. Her father, on the other hand-"

"His house elf claims he was at home all evening." Hermione shook her head.

"Silly Granger. House elves lie. They serve their masters with total, unwilling loyalty. It's a big reason why they're excellent servants," he said, winking.

"I'm going to ignore that remark. Of course I realize the elf may be lying. But our hands are tied. He has an alibi and I can't legally challenge it without having reasonable suspicion that he's committed a crime. Besides, Melanie was clearly struggling to remember her story about what she was doing the night of the murder."

"Well, Veritaserum would-"

"Is illegal, as I'm sure you know-"

"That's never stopped me from using it in my personal quest for justice."

Hermione muttered a Silencing Charm in case he decided to reveal anything else best kept secret.

"...I'm going to ignore that remark, too."

"Probably for the best."

They walked a few more minutes in silence, only resuming their conversation on the steps to the front door.

"Just do me a favor, please. When you next come up with these ridiculous plans to test out the emotional reactions of our victims, could you warn me first? It would make it easier if I knew what was coming." Hermione opened the door for them both, intending to quickly let the judge know they were departing.

"Did you just refer to the living, breathing Miss Walledge as a victim, Granger? Of murder? Because I thought it was you who said that the only victim here is the dead wizard." He gestured for her to enter the foyer first.

"Well. She was...distraught. Very visibly affected." Hermione said. "But you're right-she's not in the same position as Mr. Candor-"

"No, no. I quite agree, Granger. Miss Walledge is a victim in her own right. She may not be dead, but part of her might wish she was right now. If anything, she's a more tragic victim. She will suffer longer than Candor did, at least. Perhaps years will go by before she stops blaming herself for not insisting he spend fewer evenings at the office."

Once again, the conversation had turned personal, and Hermione sighed.

"Malfoy...I-"

He held up his hand to stop her speaking as he closed the door behind them.

"We're all eventually victims of something, Granger. It's just a matter of when it's your turn."

He held her gaze, his own eyes so intense she didn't dare look away. After a moment, he seemed to grow bored and pursed his lips.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I can't take anymore depressing interviews. What do you say we liven things up a bit?"

Granger immediately tensed with suspicion, no doubt detecting his excitement.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I've pretty much figured out who the killer is. But for your sake, Granger, I've worked out a plan to get you the proof you need."

"That's just splendid. I'm sure whatever-"

"It starts now. Immediately. You might want to stand back a bit-"

"What-"

Granger heard a door behind her open suddenly and looked over her shoulder to see a wild-eyed Marcus Greene bursting into view. He'd obviously not heard them enter thanks to the Silencing Charm and emerged from his hiding place hoping to escape unnoticed.

"Ah! Here he is. I'm a little surprised you came out so quickly, but your loss is our gain."

"He can't hear you," Granger said, not taking her eyes off Greene, who resembled a Petrified ghost. Granger muttered the counter spell and Draco felt the Silencing Charm dissipate.

"Miss Granger-what a surprise-"

"Mr. Greene, what exactly are you doing here at your employer's home? In the middle of the workday? Have something important you need to discuss?"

"Well-yes-an important client has-I mean to say, there's been a development in an important account...a very important case-"

"I'm sure it is very, very important," Granger said, and Draco smirked at her thick sarcasm. He watched Greene's eyes shift toward the door, then back to Granger, and knew what was coming. Or going. "Why don't we go down to the Ministry and you can tell us all about-"

But Greene was already bolting for the door, blasting it open with his wand, and firing a curse at Granger over his shoulder as he ran. She was after him so quickly Draco leaned back on his heels, impressed. He'd never seen her run before, and it startled him how agile she was as she leapt over the shattered pieces of the door and down the steps, calling after Greene to stop.

Draco shuffled over to the hole in the wall and watched as Granger chased Greene close to the boundary where the Anti-Apparition device would cease to stop him. She shot hexes at him, brilliant light flashing from her wand and barely missing him each time. Draco estimated she had about five meters to go before Greene would disappear, and he doubted they'd ever find him.

"Come on, Granger! Put your back into it!" he half screamed, half laughed. Then Granger finally closed the distance and her shouted Stunning spell hit its mark. Greene pitched forward and collapsed hard into the dirt, grunting in pain.

She jumped on top of Greene as his body fell, rolling him onto his stomach. She grasped both of his wrists and held them together behind his back, then used her wand to cast a Binding spell. Silver light streamed out of her wand, wove itself around Greene's wrists, then solidified and turned black. Granger leaned back on her haunches and wiped her arm against the beads of sweat at her hairline. Then she searched Greene's pockets until she found his wand, hiding it in her own robes.

Draco couldn't help himself. He smiled wider than he had in-well, he wasn't sure how long. But it felt good.

"Well done, Granger! This has made my afternoon." As he stepped over the remains of the door and walked briskly toward them, the witch with even frizzier hair than usual wiped her palms on her thighs and stood, tossing him an annoyed look with just a hint of a prideful smile.

Then she glared down at Marcus Greene.

"Just so you know, attacking an Auror is grounds for disbarment and a minimum of one year in Azkaban," she snapped, looking as though she wanted to kick him.

"Fuck off, Mudblood!" Greene said, through a mouthful of dirt. Draco chuckled at the irony, stopping a few feet from them to marvel at what he'd witnessed: his first arrest! For some reason, it was more thrilling than he had imagined. It wasn't just the escape attempt; it was something else he couldn't grasp at the moment, so he filed the memory of it all away for later amusement.

"Oh, how original! What will they think of next?" Granger rolled her eyes and caught Draco's amused ones. "Help me with this?"

Draco quirked an eyebrow, knowing Granger was fully capable, but used his own wand to levitate Greene to his feet. His nose was a bit bloody and his robes were smeared with dirt and shredded where he'd tumbled across the earth. Granger cast a Muffliato spell on him before he could spew more hateful nicknames.

"There. Would you like to do the honours?"

"What do you mean?"

Granger smiled, then began reciting Greene's rights under Wizarding law. She looked more than pleased with herself, a picture of the old Hermione Granger from Draco's youth. As he watched her, listened to her haughty voice reciting the words from memory, he felt his smile slip from his face. He remembered who he was with, and their entire history seemed to engulf him, and none of that history was good.

But today wasn't so bad. Today was...different. Fun.

Granger finally finished, and the satisfied smirk lit up her eyes, and Draco realized she was quite pretty at times. Not beautiful in a conventional manner; quite average, actually. But when she smiled, it was another matter. Though thirty, she embodied youth, and vitality, and fresh perspective.

"What's wrong? Do I have dirt on my face?" She asked, and he blinked to shake himself free of wandering thoughts. She was waiting for a response, her face closing down with concern. She reached up with one hand to rub her nose.

"No. There's nothing on your face, Granger," he said solemnly. He couldn't explain why, but he felt miserable all over again. Empty. And horribly jealous of Granger, which was the worst.

They said nothing, just stared at each other, while Greene stood rooted to the spot by Granger's spell, his lips snarling soundlessly. He was comically struggling to free himself from the chain that bound him when they heard angry shouts and running footsteps.

"Just what in Merlin's name do you think you are doing?!" Judge Walledge shouted from a few meters away. "Why have you arrested my employee?" His daughter was just behind him, staring open-mouthed at Greene's current state, but she said nothing.

"Sir," Granger said, her tone impatient, "Mr. Greene ran from us and attempted to curse me. Did you know he was hiding in your home?" Her voice gave away that she already expected the judge was going to lie to her.

Draco watched as his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. The man's eyes darkened significantly, and his voice was cool and collected: the authoritative voice of a man who recognized he must word his response with utmost care.

"Of course not. I was not expecting his company today. This is most upsetting, considering poor Deacon's death." He narrowed his eyes at Greene and frowned almost imperceptibly. "One has to wonder if his intent was to do harm to me or my daughter."

Greene stopped trying to speak. His eyes widened in shock. He turned deathly pale.

When Draco sought Granger's eyes, they were already looking at him. One eyebrow arched delicately, and he noticed she held a white-knuckled grip on her wand at her side. She was thinking exactly what he was.

"I'm afraid I'm going to need you and Miss Walledge to join us at the Ministry, Judge. Please come directly. If you Side-Along, I can take you straight to my office. We can bypass the lobby and avoid a scene. I'll be able to take all of you at once." She smoothed her dirty robes and gestured for Draco to take Greene's arm to Side-Along Apparate. She walked the short distance to Melanie, holding out her hand. The girl took it, looking too stunned to protest.

"This is outrageous!" Walledge griped, but he took Granger's proffered arm anyway. "I've answered every one of your questions-"

"Surely not every question, Judge," Draco smirked, gripping the torn fabric of Greene's robes at his shoulder. Smirking again, he caught her narrowed eyes. "If I know Granger, the questions could keep coming forever."

Granger ignored him as she grabbed his hand with her free one, but just before they Apparated, she called him a wanker under her breath.

-:-

Once inside her office, Hermione felt a great deal of relief wash over her. In this place, she had the upper hand. The entire floor was a no-Apparition zone unless a wizard was to Side-Along with an Auror, so she didn't have to worry about any of the suspects escaping.

She glanced briefly at the memo Mafalda had left on her desk from the Ministry technicians. They'd checked Candor's wand for recent spells and hadn't found anything unusual. The list of spells seemed in line with his normal day as described by Melanie and a few of Candor's work colleagues. She passed the memo to Malfoy, who skimmed it briefly and clicked his tongue, but said nothing.

The air crackled as she set up additional wards on each interview room, preventing anyone from leaving without her assistance.

"Mr. Greene, I'd like you to wait here with Mr. Malfoy. I'll be back momentarily." She was polite and professional again, the chase from earlier pushed to the back of her mind. Dwelling on it would only make her angry, and she had a feeling she would need every ounce of patience to deal with the judge's evasive behavior.

Greene looked as though he was about to spit on her, and Malfoy seemed to realize it, too. He chuckled and prodded the seething man into the room behind them, shaking his head.

"I wouldn't if I were you, mate. She'll only kick your arse. Again."

Hermione caught Malfoy's eyes and bobbed her head once, waiting for him to close and lock the door before moving the other two suspects to their own room.

"Hermione!" Luna called urgently, half running down the hall. Her eyes shone with excitement. "It's-we've found something. The footage from WandLock-we might have found Mr. Candor's killer!" She grinned so widely her lips nearly reached her eyes. Hermione smiled; the girl was so thrilled to have found evidence on her first real case. Pride swelled within her as she turned to follow Luna back toward the bullpen.

"Excellent! Let's see it, then. Where's Neville?"

"He's setting things up so we can see the video. He's in his office."

-:-

"Well, Marcus," Draco drawled, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. "It seems to me like you're in quite the predicament." As he let go of his breath, long grey tendrils of smoke curled outward across the table, toward a sickly looking Greene.

"Can you even ask me any questions without your Mudblood master here?" he sneered, leaning back in his chair. He placed his bound hands on the table in front of him. Draco's face remained impassive.

"I work for the Ministry now. Kingsley Shacklebolt himself awarded me the authority to act on Granger's behalf if necessary," he lied smoothly. He was having an immense amount of fun.

"I'm not saying anything without my lawyer."

Ah, yes. This one wouldn't be easy.

"I expected as much," he shrugged. "But I wonder who will come to defend you, now that you've alienated yourself from all your colleagues. Stepped on one too many backs to get where you are, my friend. Of course, it's your right to retain legal counsel, but it's in your best interest to realize you'll probably get stuck with a run-of-the-mill bloke. No one with any real talent. And once they get here, the deal I'm going to offer you will be off the table." He put his cigarette to his lips again, hiding his smirk as he waited for his words to sink in.

Greene's eyes grew wide for a moment, then narrowed into thin slits.

"Nice try. I'm not an bloody idiot. But..." he said grumpily, and Draco knew that look of insatiable intrigue when he saw it. "Tell me about your deal. I could use a laugh." He held up his shackled wrists.

Draco leaned forward conspiratorially, grinding his cigarette out on the table. Granger would make him pay for it, of course.

"In exchange for the name of Candor's murderer, you'll walk away a free wizard. We'll forget that you attacked an Auror. The Ministry will hail you as a hero. They won't be able to deny that you saved their arses by helping close such an important case." Draco grinned, watching as the wheels turned in Greene's head. His eyes darted between Draco's face and his bound hands. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

"You don't understand," he said through clenched teeth. "I can't just give you a name. I'll walk out of here only to be killed within the hour-"

"No names, then. Just information. Whatever you can give me. If it leads to the killer's capture, you're free to disappear."

Greene made a noise between a laugh and a groan. He sat silently, and Draco knew every thought as he had it, even without Legilimency. Greene imagined himself locked in Azkaban, in a cold, dark cell, listening to the leering taunts of wizards he'd had convicted and sent there to rot. He saw himself receiving the Dementor's kiss, his face becoming even paler as a vision of a soulless zombie played in his mind. Then, Draco noticed the lines of his face relax infinitesimally as he fantasized about sharing just enough information to escape, run away, and live in hiding. He'd lose his titles, his credibility, and likely all his possessions, but at least he'd have his soul.

What was left of it.

Greene looked up at Draco with more determination, but still overwhelmed by fear. Tension radiated from him as he made a decision.

"All I'll say is, Candor found out something he shouldn't. He came to me to ask how to handle it, but didn't say what he knew...just that it would be bad for the firm. Decided he'd grow himself a conscience and wanted to go to the Prophet with his story. I warned him against doing so. My involvement ends there."

"Eh, you're lying." Draco grinned broadly, relaxing in his chair. "You didn't kill him, I already knew that. But you are involved in Candor's death somehow. Come on, just let it out. It'll be better for you to tell us before we find out."

Greene leaned away, putting his hands in his lap. He wouldn't be saying anything else. Draco had learned everything he needed to, anyway.

"Oh. I don't really expect you'll tell me, but just out of curiosity, what were you doing at the Walledge Estate? We both know it had nothing to do with a client."

Greene's mouth twisted downward at the corners.

"Send me to Azkaban. I've got nothing to say."

Draco shrugged again, standing up and preparing to open the door.

"Nice chatting with you."

"Wait. That's it? Aren't you going to-"

"As soon as we can verify your story, you'll go free, though we are quite busy. I can't promise you won't be here a while."

Draco stepped outside and locked Greene inside, then meandered down the hallway toward the bullpen. Granger, Longbottom and Lovegood were just coming out of Longbottom's office.

"Malfoy," Granger said authoritatively. "Come take a look at this."

-:-

Hermione settled into her seat beside Malfoy, across the table from Judge Walledge and his daughter. They both were looking anywhere but at each other, a fact she didn't miss. She opened the folder she'd placed on the table, then addressed them both.

"Well, we've just seen some very interesting footage of the night Candor was killed. Knowing that, do either of you have anything you'd like to say?" She looked from one to the other. Neither spoke.

"Granger would like to get home to her cat, if you please," Malfoy chimed in. Hermione felt her face flush, but she didn't acknowledge him.

"No comments? In that case, allow me to briefly go over what's on the tapes. Miss Walledge," she said, and the girl's face blanched, "we have you on video entering Walledge, Whitford and Hendricks at six-fifteen the night your fiancé died. We know Candor met you at the front entrance in the lobby and helped you get inside." Hermione selected several photographs taken from the video and slid them toward the judge and Melanie, watching their reactions carefully. "After that, the tape was tampered with...there's nothing there for another hour. The cameras at both exits were offline. When they come back on, we never see you leaving the building, so we have to assume you'd already left. No one else shows up all night. Do you know how this looks, Melanie?"

"Oh, she probably just wanted to see how secure her fiance's building was. Concerned about his safety, working long hours. Am I right, Melanie?" Malfoy asked, and his voice wasn't the least bit ironic. He was actually trying to help her. The girl's lips drew together in a hard line.

"Don't say a word until our lawyer gets here, darling," the judge warned, sliding closer to his daughter and grasping her hand. Hermione noticed her feebly try to pull it away.

"Melanie, I have to ask you: did you kill Deacon Candor?" Hermione said softly, feeling simultaneous sympathy and doubt of the girl's innocence. She'd been very convincing before, but Muggle surveillance tape didn't lie. However, Hermione felt deep in her gut that she wasn't the killer. It was one of those things she couldn't put her finger on. Melanie was culpable in some way, perhaps, but Hermione could feel that she had loved her fiancé dearly; she was still relieved when the girl denied her guilt.

"No, I could never," she gasped, closing her eyes tightly. "Please put those away," she gestured to the photos. "They-they remind me. If I'd stayed...if he'd come home to me like I begged him to...he would still be alive," she mumbled, tears forming in her eyes. "It's my fault."

The judge rubbed her arm, shushing her. Malfoy leaned forward.

"Why did you go there, Melanie? What compelled you? It wasn't a typical thing for you to go to his office, was it?" Hermione glanced sideways at his choice of words.

"No, well...What-do you mean? I was just-" her eyes widened. "I can't...I went to say hello. To ask how much longer he'd be?" She broke off, sounding confused. She looked to her father for reassurance. "I know I should've told you before that I went there last night, but…I thought it would sound-"

"Darling, you don't have to say anything else. Our lawyer will be here any minute!"

"You can't remember, can you? Why you went in the first place?" Malfoy placed both hands on the table, keeping the girl's teary gaze. "Melanie, what did you do once Deacon let you in?"

"I-we went upstairs. To his office. We talked a while-then I left-"

"Before you went upstairs. Did you do anything else?" He was insistent. Hermione knew where he was going with his questions, and she felt excited too. He had Melanie fixed in his gaze, looking unable to tear herself away. Hermione wondered if he had hypnotized her with wandless magic.

"I...talked to Tiffany? But I don't remember what about. I've never talked to her before." Her face screwed up with disgust, causing Malfoy to chuckle.

"Ah, Mel, don't fret. I believe you were under the Imperius Curse. Someone forced you to go inside-"

"No!" She interrupted, fire suddenly in her eyes. "I didn't kill Deacon! I loved him! I loved him no matter what-"

"That's enough, Melanie!" The judge hissed, tightening his grip on her arm. She winced, silenced. Hermione scowled.

"Okay," she said firmly, "Mr. Malfoy and I do not believe you killed Deacon. But we think whoever Imperiused you may be the person responsible for his death. That's why we need you to answer these questions now, okay?" She collected the photographs and sealed them back in her folder, then folded her hands on top of it. Melanie nodded sadly, her eyes shining.

"I honestly...don't remember why I went there. I remember seeing him, and being happy to see him...but I feel...that wasn't why I went, if that makes sense? It's sort of jumbled...but I think my reason for going was to see Tiffany." She blinked, seeming surprised at herself. Malfoy reached out and took one of her hands.

"And you have no memory of what you said to her?"

"No," she shook her head. "That part is totally blank. The rest is hazy, but I only remember telling her I needed to speak with her, and then it's all black."

Hermione was listening intently, but she was watching the judge as his sneer grew deeper and more twisted. Her mind barely had a chance to register that Melanie was crying again when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Hermione called, unlocking the door with her wand.

A tall, broad-shouldered wizard with wavy dark hair wearing green robes strode into the room, carrying a thick sheave of parchment and a quill. He glanced between the other four people in the room, then cleared his throat and spoke with a French accent.

"I can see I'm just in time. I am Phillippe Moreau, 'ere to serve as attorney for Mr. Walledge and 'is daughter. Please allow me a moment to confer with my clients."

Hermione held back her sigh. A few more minutes and maybe they'd have gotten more out of Melanie. Now there was little chance she'd utter another word.

"Oh, that won't be necessary. Melanie and the good Judge are free to leave," Malfoy said confidently. Alarm bells went off in Hermione's head.

"What! Malfoy, you can't-"

"You heard them, Granger. Mel says she's innocent. Can't remember a thing, so really she's of no further use to us. I'm sure the judge here wants to take her home so they can grieve Candor's loss properly." He looked at them both sympathetically. "I'm sorry you've had to endure such grueling inquiry-"

"I haven't asked why Mr. Greene was in your home yet, Mr. Walledge," Hermione interjected. Malfoy waved his hand.

"Didn't you hear him? He already explained Mr. Greene was there without his knowledge. If you ask me, he probably killed Candor and was there to plant evidence. These two," he jerked his thumb at them, "couldn't hurt a bloody Pygmy Puff."

Hermione glared at him, her intentions to disembowel him perfectly clear. He stared right back, his molten silver eyes delighting in her challenge. When she felt they'd been silent too long, she clicked her teeth and forced herself to smile.

"I need to consult with Mr. Malfoy a moment. Excuse us." She stood, taking her folder, and didn't wait to see if Malfoy followed. He must've known she meant business, though, because he was at her side when the door closed behind them. She rounded on him immediately.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?! You don't have the authority-"

He was holding up his hands in a supplicant gesture, smirking arrogantly.

"I have a plan, Granger. Don't get your knickers in a twist. You hired me for my insight, correct? Just trust me. We need to let them go. All of them. That's the only way to catch the killer and the accomplices."

"We can't let Greene go. He attacked an Auror...if Walledge is telling the truth, he also broke into someone's home with questionable intent." She sighed, rubbing her temples. For a moment, she thought about what step she would take next if she didn't take Malfoy's advice. The process would be very slow, indeed, with no concrete evidence to hold anyone on. They could charge Greene with the attack, and perhaps breaking unlawfully into a residence, but she knew he wouldn't talk about Candor anymore. Before she could stop herself, she said, "What if they try to run?"

"They won't," he sighed, then placed one hand on her shoulder. The gesture threw Hermione off enough that she allowed him to continue. He leaned in, close enough she could feel his breath on her face. "Walledge and Melanie think we believe they're both innocent. Why should they run? Running would only make them suspects again. Same for Greene. He'll be too happy he was let go to dare make a wrong move. What we need is to make them think we are close to finding out what Candor knew that was so dangerous to the firm. We let them think Candor had it all written down somewhere, and just wait for them to seek it out. The conscience always betrays the guilty, in the end." He released her and straightened, his hand already on the doorknob.

"Wait. I thought you said you didn't think Melanie was guilty?" she asked, feeling it necessary to convince him his plan was foolish, because she was certain he would break no less than a thousand laws to carry it out. "What will it prove to do this if they're all innocent?"

"Patience, Granger," Malfoy drawled, rolling his eyes. "Like a first year in Charms class, you are."

He opened the door to the interrogation room again and at that very moment, Hermione knew she'd lost control.

-:-

After speaking individually with each of the suspects, feeding each of them the same fabricated story to stir their imaginations, Draco was pleased to get to participate in his first stake-out. Tiffany, Judge Walledge, Melanie, Marcus Greene, and even the pub owner had one reason or another to kill Candor. Now they only had to wait to see which one showed themselves as guilty.

Draco made certain they all fully believed Candor had scandalous information hidden somewhere, possibly in a diary and most likely at the law firm. He assured them all the Ministry was close to finding it, but not to worry; as soon as Candor's secret was out, the killer would be exposed and they could all get back to their normal lives.

Tiffany had been the second of their suspects to insist that while she was technically the first employee to know the new security codes, she had no memory of giving the after-hours code to anyone, or even speaking to Melanie Walledge. Suspiciously, her memory of the evening Candor was killed was also distorted, partially blotted out, but she had been afraid to say so for fear of leaving herself without an alibi.

Wood was walking Tiffany back to the Ministry lobby so she could Floo home, as it was well past closing at Walledge, Whitford and Hendricks. Normally, Granger's team would be on their way home as well, but the clock was ticking on Draco's plan; it was now or never.

"Alright. Everyone is in place," Granger said. Her furrowed brow and down turned lips spoke volumes about how ridiculous she thought this was. For some reason, Draco actually wanted her to see it from his side.

"Just relax. This is foolproof. What are you afraid of?"

"Just the obvious. And nothing is foolproof," she said, leaning against the wall of the empty office directly across from Deacon Candor's. The door was closed and it was nearly pitch black; only the dimly lit tip of her wand provided light. Draco sat unperturbed in the cushioned chair behind the desk. His eyes adjusted well to darkness, as he'd lived most of his life consumed by it.

"Like what? We could be hexed by whoever shows up? Unlikely. Your entire team is here. You're an excellent witch. Next?" He crossed his arms, knowing by her silence that his compliment caused her to blush.

"They could escape-"

"You have your Anti-Apparition device. Wood is by the stairs, and Longbottom and Lovegood have the exits covered. Anything else?"

"I don't know. This has to be entrapment. Or...or..."

"We aren't luring anyone to commit a criminal offense, Granger. They've already killed someone. We're just catching them in the act of removing evidence."

He could barely see it, but he was able to discern her surprised look.

"What? I read a lot."

"Of course you do," she said, her tone scalding. "Now, be quiet. I shouldn't have even brought you here. You could be hurt-"

"Hermione? I can see someone coming up the walk. Probably fifteen meters away," Lovegood's voice echoed in both Draco and Granger's ears, thanks to a helpful Muggle device. It had been improved upon by magic so that it was not hindered by distance or interference, and was completely invisible. Draco begrudgingly admitted to himself that it was superior to Extendable Ears.

"Can you tell who it is?" Granger asked, looking directly at Draco. Her entire body was on alert as soon as she had heard Lovegood's whispered warning.

"No. They're hooded. I'm certain they haven't seen me. Neville's Disillusionment Charm is remarkable."

"What are they doing now?" Granger asked.

"They're putting in the code to the door...now they're going inside," Lovegood finished. "And I'm to wait here?"

"Yes. Thank you, Luna. Oliver, what is your status?"

"At the base of the stairs. I see them walking to the lift."

"Thank you. Stay where you are. Malfoy and I are in the office directly across from Candor's."

"Okay. Lift doors have closed. They're going up."

"Okay. Neville, any activity at the rear entrance?"

"Nothing, Boss. Dead quiet out here."

"Okay. Now we wait."

She swallowed, and Draco took a moment to really look at her. Her shoulders were square, firm but poised grip on her wand. Her feet slightly apart, eyes focused on what she could see through the little window in the office door.

He was impressed to note that she seemed only mildly concerned the plan would fail miserably; she was worried for her team's safety, of course. She placed their wellbeing above all else. But she wasn't afraid for herself, or really for Draco. Draco recognized the look of readiness and discipline on her face from a time when a war had torn the Wizarding world apart, and acknowledged that if not the bravest witch on earth, she was at least in the top three.

He was suddenly glad she would be the one helping him track down Elias Grey. If anyone could be successful at finding him, it was Hermione Granger.

The noise of the lift doors sliding open snapped Draco out of his wandering thoughts. Granger crouched down slightly, extinguishing the light of her wand.

"Suspect has arrived on Candor's floor," she murmured. "Stand by."

Footsteps approached quietly. Draco got up from his chair and silently made his way to Granger's side. A faint light in the hallway slowly came closer, clearly emanating from the tip of someone's wand.

His heart began to beat faster; they could very well be in mortal danger, despite his earlier levity. He prided himself on being able to read the majority of people quite easily, but that didn't mean he hadn't made his share of mistakes. Perhaps he had misread one of them, and they were slightly more homicidal than he'd thought. Maybe they'd seen through this ruse and thought to bring others, hiding under invisibility cloaks, with Silencing Charms muffling their footsteps.

Draco could hear Granger's soft breaths, unhurried and calm. He realized she had already thought along these lines; her job required it. She did this for a living. He was way, way out of his league. He'd spent more than half his life as a coward and the instinct to find safer shelter was deeply ingrained in him.

"They're going inside Candor's office," Granger remarked, her voice even and cool.

"Noted," Wood replied.

"They've closed the door behind them. Malfoy and I will intercept."

"No, wait," Malfoy murmured, touching her arm carefully. "We should wait until they've found what they're looking for, then follow them. They'll be going to meet their accomplice. They won't be far."

"You can't know that. That's not the plan, Malfoy. We didn't prepare for that eventuality." Granger's hand slipped to the doorknob.

"You know there's no way one person did this alone. They had to have help to get around all the security measures. Trust me, Granger. Wait."

"Why didn't you mention this before?"

"I'm excited, and I forgot. First time for everything." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Boss, what's the plan?" Longbottom asked, sounding slightly panicked.

Granger didn't move. She glanced out the window again, and Draco could see the suspect's wand light moving about the room through Candor's office window.

They only had moments to make a decision.

Granger near-growled with frustration, and Draco grinned in return.

"We wait. Everyone stay where you are. When our suspect leaves, we will follow them as closely as possible. If they get too close to the boundary of the Anti-Apparition wards, we'll have to stop them."

Granger waited for three affirmative responses, then glared at Draco.

"You'd better be right about this, Malfoy."

"What do you take me for? I know what I'm doing," he said indignantly, just as Granger held up a hand to silence him.

"They're coming out. Here we go. Everyone, be ready."

The figure emerged from Candor's office carrying a small book. Longbottom had placed ward after ward on it; sloppy ones that any fool with magic could sense, and easy enough to remove, but time-consuming. The suspect wouldn't dare wait in the office to inspect the book's contents, as Draco had predicted. They softly closed the office door behind them and made for the lift again, walking quickly.

"They're in a hurry. Don't want to keep their accomplice waiting," Draco whispered.

"Or they're scared of being caught at a crime scene," Granger said grumpily. They waited until the figure had disappeared behind the lift doors before stepping into the hallway.

"Okay. Let's go," Granger held her wand poised at her side, heading for the door to the stairwell. "Follow closely behind me. Take out your wand. Don't let your guard down," she ordered. "If anything happens to me, you need to be prepared to defend yourself."

"Don't you think you're overreacting?"

She didn't answer, but Draco took out his wand anyway.

They descended quickly. So quickly Draco realized he loathed stairs and resolved to avoid them at every future opportunity. His thighs burned as he ran after Granger; she was so much faster than she looked. Maybe it didn't show outwardly, but years of maintaining his family's company had taken its toll on Draco's body. He decided as soon as this was over, he was devoting himself to getting into better shape. Maybe next week, after his legs weren't sore anymore.

"We are near to the lobby."

"I see you," came Wood's monotone reply. "Suspect is coming off the lift."

Panting, Draco stopped just in time to avoid running into Granger's back. She joined Wood at the door to the stairs; they stood closely together to look out the window toward the lift.

"I still can't tell who it is," Wood grumbled.

"No matter. They could be using Polyjuice Potion anyway."

"Doubtful. Why hide their face with a hood if it isn't their own?" Draco said, trying to stifle his gasps.

"Good point," Granger said, somewhat begrudgingly. "Neville, he's heading toward the rear of the building. Luna, go around to help Neville. We're on our way."

"I'm coming, Neville." Lovegood's voice.

"Boss, something's happening," Longbottom said urgently, his voice buzzing in Draco's ear. "There's someone approaching from the south. It's-it looks like a man. I'm certain it's a man."

"How descriptive," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"Don't intercept them. We're coming." Granger gestured for Wood and Draco to follow her. She held her wand out in front as she pushed open the stairwell door, turned right and soundlessly followed in the direction the hooded figure had gone. Wood was close behind, and Draco followed at a safe distance, crouching down, his wand drawn.

They passed Tiffany's large desk, their shoes moving swiftly over the marble floor, which seemed to glow in the moonlight streaming through the building's large windows.

They slipped through a kitchenette and lounge area, down a short hallway lined with more offices, and finally into another lobby at the rear of the building, smaller than the one at the front. This entrance was used mostly by employees and famous clients, so they could avoid the press. Draco imagined that some of the wizards and witches he knew personally had slipped through these doors, though he doubted their passage was guided by moonlight.

"We've reached the exit. What do you see, Neville?" Granger whispered, looking left and right as far as she was able through the many windows lining the lobby.

"Both suspects are just now meeting. I can't hear what they're saying, but body language suggests an argument."

"Right. Activate your Anti-Apparition device now. Do you see the book?"

"Yes."

"As soon as the book changes hands, we will move in. Not before then. Luna, are you with Neville?"

"I'm on the opposite side of the walk, but I can see the suspects. They're definitely arguing, but I can't make out over what."

"Okay."

Everyone fell silent, and the minutes seemed to drag on infinitely. Draco was just about to pull out a cigarette to distract himself from the deep shit he'd gotten himself into when Neville's voice sounded again.

"The book has been exchanged."

"That's it. We're up," Granger said. She looked pointedly at Draco. "Malfoy, stay inside. Don't intervene. You are not an Auror. Are we clear?"

Her eyes bore into him, daring him to challenge her. On this point, he knew it was better to refrain.

"I understand," he said, and she nodded. Then she turned to the door again, pressing her right shoulder and hand against it. Her left hand clutched tightly on to her wand. Her eyes found Wood's and he nodded to communicate his readiness.

Draco's heart thumped rapidly in his chest as he watched; he felt alive for the first time in so many years.

Granger's single word echoed through his head like a clap of raucous thunder:

"Now."

-:-

An hour later, Judge Henry Walledge and his daughter were back at the Ministry, in separate interrogation rooms. Both had been checked for Polyjuice Potion and given the chance to share their side of the story.

Walledge had been quick to blame Melanie for his appearance at the law office. He claimed she had called him using her Patronus, distraught, saying she needed his help disposing of evidence that she'd killed her fiancé. He'd only come, so he said, to talk her into turning herself in.

Once Hermione had explained this to Melanie, the poor girl broke down into miserable choking sobs. She said she once again had no idea what she'd been doing at the law office or why she'd stolen the book, and couldn't account for why her father was there, either. But she wouldn't entertain the thought he could somehow try to pin Candor's murder on her. That seemed to frighten her most of all.

"Why would he say that?" She cried. Malfoy handed her a Conjured handkerchief. She took it, wiping her eyes. "He knows how much I loved Deacon. He said our affection for each other was undeniable! His exact words!" Melanie blew her nose, but the tears weren't stopping. Hermione raised an eyebrow in Malfoy's direction.

"Right," he said, and took Melanie's hand. "Listen, I know you're feeling intense grief, but I need you to see your father now. Just for a few minutes. Can you do that for me?" he asked gently, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand.

Melanie nodded jerkily, her eyes still leaking salty tears.

"Good. Please come this way."

All three of them stood, Hermione hanging back to observe whatever tricks Malfoy had up his sleeve.

Malfoy released Melanie's hand and gestured for her to accompany him into the hallway. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder, glancing at Hermione behind them.

When they reached the door to Interrogation Room 4, Hermione unlocked the door to allow Melanie to enter. Malfoy held it open, watching Hermione's stern face as the younger witch slipped out of view.

Hermione stepped closer to him, speaking quietly so no one would hear.

"Is this the part where you unmask the killer in the most theatrical way possible?"

Malfoy grinned at her, clearly enjoying her skepticism.

"You make it sound like you aren't looking forward to it." He ducked into the interrogation room before she could hex him.

-:-

"So, here we are again," Hermione sighed as she took the seat beside Malfoy. Melanie, Walledge and a bleary-eyed Phillippe Moreau sat across from them. "Except now, there's this." She placed the book from Candor's office on the table between them, its red leather binding nearly vibrating with magic. "Sorry you didn't get the chance to read it; it's quite informative."

The judge narrowed his eyes, refusing to speak. Hermione cast an expectant look at Malfoy. He smiled crookedly and winked at her. Then he cleared his throat and his face slipped into a serious, business-like mask, though his eyes still danced with mirth.

"Well, I'm not afraid of making everybody uncomfortable. Melanie, your father killed Deacon. Oh, and he's sleeping with his receptionist."

Melanie's red rimmed, swollen eyes grew enormously wide, and her next sob died in her throat. "I-I beg your pardon?"

Judge Walledge said nothing, choosing to seethe silently in his chair.

"Just a moment," Moreau interrupted, holding up a finger. "Do you 'ave any proof to back up zees accusations?"

"Of course we do," Malfoy said, waving a hand dismissively. Hermione glared at the side of his face. He knew very well everything was entirely circumstantial, and likely would not hold up in court against the team of lawyers Moreau would assemble.

"My clients would like to 'ear it."

"Absolutely," Malfoy said, then he leaned forward slightly, more out of eagerness than anything, Hermione thought. He was about to solve a puzzle, in record time, thus proving himself the smartest man in the room. He was in his element.

"Judge," he began, smirking at the man in question, "you never liked Candor. That much was apparent. You tolerated him because Melanie liked him, but you thought the romance would die soon enough. You wanted to keep an eye on him, though, so you gave him a top-level office and a job at your own firm. But after a time, you even started to resent your own daughter, feeling she had betrayed you by falling for a Muggle-born. Do you deny it?" Malfoy pointed at the judge, unable to hide his half-smile.

The judge leered back at him.

"I thought as well of him as he deserved."

"Right. I'll take that as a 'no.'" Malfoy grinned wider. "Everything was fine for a few months, until Candor proved he deserved the job. He won cases on his own, without compromising his character. He was intelligent and was brought up in a Muggle home, so he could relate to both Pureblood and Muggle-born clients. He was highly requested, and you couldn't fire him then, even if Melanie's relationship with him went sour. But it didn't, and that was what really bothered you.

"You started to feel lonely. Your daughter was happy and her engagement only reminded you that you'd be living alone soon. You allowed yourself a companion of your own, someone you had enough power over that you could be sure the affair would be kept quiet: Tiffany."

Melanie gasped again, eyeing her father as though seeing him for the first time. His face remained unchanged. He didn't look at his daughter, or ask his lawyer to intervene. He only listened as though removed from it all.

"You pay her very well, that much is clear. She was dressed in expensive robes, too expensive for someone on a receptionist's salary. She may not care for her job, but the perks are certainly worth keeping. You need only ask her to come, and I bet she pops right over. It isn't like her boss would fire her," he chuckled to himself. He rose to his feet, stretching languidly. "Sorry. Granger here ran me ragged down a thousand flights of stairs."

"Malfoy," Hermione warned, but she had to admit she was intrigued. He was gliding through this so easily. It was like watching the climax of a Shakespearean play while listening to the crescendo of a masterful symphony.

"Anyway," Malfoy continued, going to lean against the wall facing Walledge, "one day, Candor finds out something you didn't want him to know. Something that would be detrimental to your business. Your reputation. He tells Greene about it, and Greene is so desperate for you to notice him that he runs directly to you. Candor unfortunately put his trust in the wrong person."

Hermione detected a note of sadness in his tone, and she found herself focusing harder on his eyes, which seemed to dim at the mention of misplaced trust.

"You knew you'd never talk Candor out of revealing what he knew; he was just that kind of wizard. Honest to a fault, a terrible trait for a lawyer. You knew what you had to do. So you figured you'd kill him, so cleverly, and make it appear as though Melanie had done it. She certainly had motive for revenge; how much were you going to pay Tiffany to claim she'd had an affair with Candor?" Malfoy suddenly asked, looking interested.

The judge continued his impenetrable silence, glowering at Malfoy with ill-disguised hatred.

"Ah, well, that's not important. You only had to get around your security measures. You couldn't just owl WandLock and tell them to disable everything; there would be a record of that. You told Tiffany to work late, and of course she agreed. You used the Imperius on your own daughter. You told her to contact Candor and have him meet her at the entrance. He let her inside, then she told Tiffany to use the security code to disable the surveillance equipment. Once the tape was no longer being recorded, Tiffany let you in. You wiped her memory, then proceeded to Candor's office. He was talking with Melanie there, and detected something was off. At just the precise moment he realized a trap had been set, you killed him. Right in front of your daughter. Then you wiped her memory, and left the building with her, knowing Melanie would be the only one on the tape who seemed out of place. Once you arrived home, you sent your Patronus to Tiffany, telling her to reactivate the video surveillance. She didn't ask why; she probably assumed the system had malfunctioned, as silly Muggle technology sometimes does-her thoughts, not mine. It's easy to dismiss something when you don't understand it."

Malfoy looked briefly at Melanie, who was staring aghast down at the table. Her tears had long since dried.

"Zis is all pure conjecture," Moreau snapped. "I'll tear zis apart when it goes before ze Wizengamot, if it even gets zat far!"

"Ah, but we have the murder weapon," Malfoy declared triumphantly.

Hermione's head snapped back to him; she'd gotten distracted watching the judge's face change colors. She knew the murder weapon had not been recovered. It was undoubtedly a wand, but every suspect had had their wand checked by Ministry technicians upon Hermione's request, and none had used the Killing Curse. She felt all the blood drain from her face. Malfoy had overplayed their hand.

The judge seemed to realize this at the same moment she had.

"What, a wand? You're saying I killed Candor, then? Fine. Check my wand. Again."

He withdrew it from his robes, appearing to be blackthorn, eleven inches long. He held it out toward Malfoy confidently; the blond haired wizard took it, smirking.

"Thank you, Judge." Malfoy twirled the foreign wand in his fingers, but Hermione knew he was only pretending to examine it. Then, without warning, he grasped it with both hands, and snapped it in half.

Melanie gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. Hermione's eyes nearly popped out of her skull. Even Phillippe Moreau twitched, staring at the broken wand with a horrified expression. But the judge had no reaction at all, and Hermione felt herself catching up in an instant, the bigger picture so suddenly visible that she felt dizzy.

"You have a decidedly understated reaction to seeing your wand destroyed in front of you," Malfoy commented airily. He dropped the pieces in front of Walledge, then crossed his arms against his chest.

"Auror Granger, your consultant is out of line! 'E 'as damaged my client's personal property! Do somezing!" Moreau shouted, waving his arms in frustration. Hermione gave her usual diplomatic answer.

"I apologize for any inconvenience. Mr. Malfoy is acting independently of myself and my team."

"Don't apologize, Granger. This man tried to frame his own daughter for killing her fiancé. He's evil."

"Prove it, then," Walledge challenged. His smug face had returned to its normal color. He thought he'd won, Hermione realized.

Malfoy shrugged. "Okay."

He reached into his inside robe pocket and took out a different wand than his own. This one was also a dark wood, but slightly shorter than the broken one, perhaps nine inches. Malfoy held it vertically above the table, brandishing it like a trophy. He smiled sideways at Hermione, but she was too busy watching the color drain entirely from Walledge's face.

"This is your wand," Malfoy said. Then he used the tip of it to push the broken pieces of the other wand toward Hermione. "That was Marcus Greene's wand. You talked him into letting you use it after you killed Candor. He idolizes you, so of course he agreed. It looked enough like your own that you thought no one would notice. But there are plenty of pictures of you with this wand in Candor's office; one only has to pay attention. And Greene just borrowed one from the lost and found box beneath Tiffany's desk. This one," Malfoy said, twirling the wand a bit, "I found hidden in a frame in Greene's office. Held his certificate to practice law. Ironic that he was breaking the law by hiding this for you. It's just as you said. Sometimes, 'even the best of us need a little help.' Too bad yours was completely inept."

Hermione remembered Malfoy picking up things in Greene's office and remarking about the certificate's frame being quite heavy, and Greene had been protective over it, but she definitely had not seen Malfoy remove the wand from the frame. No sooner had she thought this than she caught him looking at her, already reading her mind.

"It's all in the wrist, Granger. I told you all would be revealed."

She blinked, determined not to let him see he'd impressed her. She returned her attention to the judge.

"Marcus Greene as at your home to ask for his wand back, wasn't he? He figured out you were involved in the murder somehow and was trying to distance himself." She shook her head. "I assume when we examine this wand for the Killing Curse, we will find it, along with the Imperius Curse. Do you have anything to say?" She asked, though it was just a formality at this point.

"How-how-you can't prove I cast those curses. I forgot-my wand was stolen last week. I'm a busy man and never got around to reporting it." He was slipping, sweat beading on his forehead, wiping his palms against his thighs. Melanie leaned noticeably far from him, looking shell-shocked.

"No, daddy. You had it all day the day Deacon died. I'm sure of it!" she said insistently, turning to Hermione. "Besides, if someone had stolen it to kill Deacon, no one can cast perfect Imperius Curses on a whim with an unfamiliar wand! And the Killing Curse-" she gulped, turning white as a sheet.

"You're quite right. Smart girl," Malfoy said approvingly. "It's clear you didn't inherit that trait from your father."

Suddenly, Walledge lunged across the table for his wand, releasing a guttural roar, knocking it from Malfoy's hand. Hermione was on her feet before it hit the ground, Stunning Walledge so that he lay rigidly across the table.

"That was really unnecessary, mate," Malfoy chuckled to the unmoving wizard. "I'm sure it felt liberating for the entire second it lasted."

After collecting Walledge's wand from the floor, Hermione stood and began straightening her robes. She addressed Phillippe Moreau, who looked bitterly disgusted with his client's behavior.

"Marcus Greene will undoubtedly corroborate this sequence of events when we tell him we found the murder weapon in his office. I'm sure he will take the deal I'm prepared to offer. And Tiffany Swift will admit to the affair and Walledge's request that she restart the surveillance equipment, I've no doubt. You may want to advise your client on his limited options." She looked at Malfoy, who seemed absorbed by every word she spoke.

Then a look of sudden remembrance appeared on his face and he snapped his fingers.

"Oh, right! Before I forget," he said, picking up the red leather bound book. "This is fake." He wiggled it in front of the judge's face. "Although I'm quite sure Candor did hide away your secrets somewhere, it certainly wasn't anywhere you'd think to look."

His eyes softened momentarily as he shifted his gaze to Melanie's suffering eyes.

"Candor had been staying with you; is that right?"

She nodded once.

"Right. Melanie, before he came to work yesterday morning, the last spell he used was Diffindo. I believe he used it to turn up the earth in your rose garden. He used magic because it was faster and he needed to hide something there where he knew you'd find it." Malfoy leaned closer to Melanie, taking her hand across the table. "Candor knew how your father felt about him, but he loved you enough to bear it. You were the only person who he truly trusted with everything he knew...and to carry out his final wishes."

Melanie's eyes were round with shock and grief by the end, but a strange smile ghosted across her face. Malfoy gently withdrew his hand, and looked at Hermione expectantly.

It occurred to her that he had solved this case in one day; he'd done her job faster than she'd ever done it, with no experience. Yes, he'd done it in an unconventional way, and he'd insulted every person they'd encountered. He'd discovered evidence and not told her about it until hours later. And if she'd had said evidence, they could've matched it to Walledge hours ago and avoided the whole scene at the law firm, but they likely would not have discovered the depth of each person's involvement until days later. Begrudgingly, she admitted to herself that, while he was a PR nightmare, Malfoy was extremely valuable. Extremely.

"You feeling alright, Granger?" He asked, his tone edged slightly with concern.

That snapped her out of it. Hermione shook her head and sighed.

"Yes, fine. But I need a moment. I'll get Oliver to inform Walledge of his rights and process him." She walked out into the hallway, turning to ward the door behind her, but Malfoy was there. He stepped over the threshold, tugging the doorknob until the door clicked closed behind him.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm not staying in there with them," Malfoy grimaced. "I don't need to hear them plotting defense strategies while that bastard's poor daughter deals with the fact that her dad murdered the love of her life."

"That sounds like you care."

"Well, I can relate, in a fashion," he jerked his head toward the bullpen, and the two of them began walking toward it.

"What do you think Candor found out about the law firm?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Eh," Malfoy shrugged. "I can't say for sure, but it probably has something to do with Walledge murdering the other two heirs to the firm, or unethical law practices...doling out harsher punishments on Muggle-borns, that sort of thing."

"Oh. I see." Hermione frowned.

"What is it? Come on, don't be so hard on yourself. You'd have figured it out eventually."

"It's not that..." She grimaced. "Well, it's silly. You said you could relate to Melanie...I can't."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, the only sign he was surprised at her.

"That's a good thing, Granger. No need to feel guilty."

"No, I mean...I suppose I haven't met the love of my life. At this point, I don't see it happening." It was her turn to shrug.

"And that doesn't bother you?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"No," she said without thinking. "Although, I'd have liked children. But I love my job; it's my life. I don't think there's any room for a husband and children. It would be impractical."

She felt Malfoy staring at her, and finally couldn't resist meeting his eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like I've grown a second head?"

"I'm just surprised," he admitted, as though it was a rare and unpleasant feeling. "Of the Golden Trio, I always thought you'd be the one to get married and have an enormous family of big-haired, know-it-all Gryffindors. And Potter is on his honeymoon, and Weasley's been married to that witch from the Harpies for years-"

"I'm aware that my friends have successful love lives. But like I said, I'm content. I'm...married to my job."

They had nearly reached the bullpen, but Malfoy stopped suddenly, and Hermione spun to face him. He looked so out of sorts, she nearly laughed.

"Granger, you are even more of a prude than I imagined! No wonder you tried to tell a celibate man to keep his dick in his trousers!"

Hermione blushed deeply and immediately looked to be sure no one was listening.

"Would you keep it down? People are trying to work!"

Malfoy's mouth dropped open.

"Merlin, you're a sad sort. It never ends!" he shook his head, bemused.

"I'm glad my personal life is so entertaining to you," Hermione said sarcastically, crossing her arms defensively over herself.

"Well, whenever you're ready to join the rest of us in the real world, just let me know. I could marry you off in a second." He snapped his fingers for effect, then resumed an even pace toward the bullpen.

"'The real world?' Says the celibate billionaire Ministry consultant."

"Touché."

"Seriously, Malfoy. Half my job is telling someone their loved one is dead, and pretty much the other half is arresting the spouse for killing them. I mean, nine times out of ten, the husband or wife did it. Why on earth would I want to get married? Just look at you..." As soon as the words were out, she wished with all her heart she could take them back. Malfoy slowed to a stop, but they'd reached the bullpen. Thankfully, it was empty, but she could see the rest of her team crowded in Neville's office.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, clenching her teeth. She was an idiot.

Malfoy's face held none of the humor it had throughout the ruse to catch Candor's killer. It was pulled into a careful, detached mask that looked like every picture the Prophet had ever published of him. Like the one she'd seen in her Sunday paper, detailing his family's grisly deaths and his lonely life afterward.

"I loved my wife very deeply, Granger," he said, his voice strained. "And my-my son. I still love them. They're gone, but I wouldn't trade the time I had with them. At least I was truly happy once, even briefly. Can you say the same?"

She couldn't say anything. Her throat seemed to close up painfully; her tongue was as dry as a desert. She tried to swallow, but that proved too difficult. Instead, she shook her head, looking anywhere but at him.

"Look at me."

She raised her head, hopefully seeming stronger than she felt. She was a miserable human being for being so crass, and all to make a silly point.

Malfoy's face changed as she watched him, softening around his eyes. His mouth remained in a hard line, though.

Hermione felt sure that he was going to say something profound like, "it's you who needs pity, not me." It was certainly the moment. He even opened his mouth, and she could see the words on the tip of his tongue, poised to be said.

But some small part of him must have decided against whatever barb he'd planned to throw. His lips closed together, his wrinkled brow relaxed, and he merely frowned at her.

Somehow, that made her feel even smaller.

Then he turned and walked away.


Next time:

The team begins serious work on the Elias Grey case; Draco and Hermione watch the killer's memory; Shacklebolt announces to the public that Draco has joined the Aurors.

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