~CHAPTER 7~
Tempest
Harry walked at a good pace through the corridors of the DMLE, thinking about everything that had happened over the past couple of days.
Those days had passed in a blur. Harry had gone through all the elements they had in their possession for the umpteenth time, searching for leads and for anything they might have missed previously. He had tried to make all the connections he could between Crabbe and Jugson, without result. He'd also had to deal with their other current cases, since Draco hadn't set foot in their office since Crabbe's death.
Draco had spent countless hours working on every sample both from Jugson's flat and from Crabbe manor over the past couple of days. The process was long and fastidious, especially since Draco had then to compare each and every single one of them with what was in the autopsy report. So far, he hadn't found anything interesting, but his tenacity impressed Harry.
Draco's long hours at Grimmauld Place had prompted them to spend a few nights there. Without discussing the matter, they'd settled in Harry's former bedroom. It had done something to Harry, to find himself in bed with Draco in a different place than their usual shack. It'd brought back memories of the first time they'd got together, the first time they'd made love together, at the Gentlewizard estate in Yorkshire.
After the initial shock of Crabbe's death, Draco had rapidly gone back to his old self. A little bit too rapidly, in Harry's mind. Harry knew it was part of Draco's defence mechanism, as he had witnessed it multiple times in the past; the way he needed to rewrite history, to hide his feelings behind over-the-top reactions.
Still, Harry knew him enough to see right through him. He would catch the moments when Draco's eyes got lost into space, when he thought Harry wasn't looking. The moments a tiny cleft formed between his eyebrows as his eyes caught the picture he had pinned to a shelf in his lab. That picture had made an appearance the day after Crabbe's death, and showed the Malfoys and the Crabbes having tea in the gardens of Malfoy manor, when Draco and Vincent were still toddlers.
However rare these moments were, they existed.
Harry was still lost in his thoughts when he finally reached the Conference room for their daily meeting with Robards. He was almost surprised to see Draco sitting in his usual chair by the door.
"Hey," Harry said as he came to sit next to Draco. "Anything new?"
"No," Draco replied. "I still have to—"
But Draco was interrupted by Smith and Robards entering the room. Just one look at their faces told Harry everything he needed to know: this would not be an ordinary meeting. Smith didn't even take a single look in their direction. Something was very wrong.
"We have a problem," Robards started without preamble, and Harry sat up in his chair, suddenly very curious and interested. Robards never ever started a meeting in that way. They usually had to suffer through a never-ending patronising speech about the important role of the Aurors in the Wizarding society before they could start working on anything.
Today, though, his tone was very different.
"I'll go straight to the point," Robards announced. "Another victim was found dead. Auror Proudfoot?"
Proudfoot opened the file in front of him and started. "Robert Avery, 46, was found dead yesterday night in the middle of Knockturn Alley."
"Avery?" Harry said and he felt Draco tense significantly next to him. "The Death Eater?" Harry knew him pretty well, for having crossed his path on several occasions. He knew he'd been imprisoned after the war, but had no idea what had become of him after that.
"The very same," Proudfoot said.
Harry shook his head. "This is no coincidence."
Smith opened his mouth to retort something but Robards beat him to it. "What do you mean, Auror Potter?"
"This is the third death of a Death Eater, that we know of, in a few days. First, Jugson, then Crabbe, and now Avery."
"I agree with Potter," Swanson said on Harry's right. "There seems to be a pattern here."
"What do you have so far?" Blaise asked.
Harry stood. "Well, first, Andrew Jugson, 43, was found dead at the bottom of a cliff in Cornwall a week ago exactly. It looked like a suicide at first, but after further investigation, Malfoy found that he had ingested a rather high quantity of hallucinogens leading to him jumping off the cliff." Harry paused, looking at the Aurors assembled around the table, happy to note he had their attention. "Several witnesses have stated that a few days before his death, he had appeared unusually frail and sick."
"Continue," Robards said, and Harry was glad to see him finally interested in the case.
"Second," Harry went on, "Vincent Crabbe Senior, 54, died on Tuesday at St Mungo's. His wife had brought him there a couple of days before. He'd been complaining about severe headaches and had difficulties breathing. Despite the Healers's treatment, his state deteriorated rapidly and he died."
"Did he also have hallucinations?" Proudfoot asked.
Harry shook his head. "Not that we know of."
"Thank you, Auror Potter, that'd be all," Smith said, without even looking at him.
"Wait," Harry said, turning back to Proudfoot. "What do you have on Avery?"
"Not much," Proudfoot said, skimming through the file. He paused when he had found what he was looking for. "We know he was found by a wizard yesterday in the evening. At first, the man thought he was asleep, but when he tried to wake him up, he realised that he was dead."
"Where's the body now?" Harry asked, getting more and more excited by the minute.
"St Mungo's."
"Right." Harry glanced at Draco who nodded to him, before Harry turned back to Robards. "Sir, I must see the body." The green tinge. He had to check. Harry explained what they had found on Crabbe and Jugson's ankle.
"So," Robards asked when Harry was done. "This is poisoning to you?"
"Yes," Draco said, sitting up. "I've spent the last couple of days testing the various samples we collected from Jugson's and Crabbe's."
"And what did you find?"
Harry sat back in his chair. He perceived the tiniest intake of breath from Draco before he answered. "Not much, unfortunately," Draco said. "There are an incredible number of samples, and the tests take time."
"Wait a minute." Smith smirked and Harry braced himself. "What proof do you have in favour of the poisoning theory?"
Draco's voice was tight when he answered. "All the elements we have: the symptoms, the manner of death, the green tinge found on the victims' ankle, everything points to poisoning."
"Points to?" Smith said, and Harry's fingers tightened around the seat of his chair. "Excuse me, Malfoy, but I've asked you about actual proof, not hazardous speculations." Smith looked straight at Draco, not bothering to hide his disgust for him. "Where's the evidence?"
"I will find it," Draco replied through clenched teeth.
"Oh really. You will, won't you?" Smith said smugly.
Harry felt Draco tense further next to him.
"So," Blaise said, and Harry was grateful to him for taking the attention away from Smith. "We're looking for a common murderer who would want what? To kill Death Eaters? For what, revenge?"
Draco nodded. "Possibly."
"And I suppose," Blaise went on. "That if we don't find them very quickly…"
"We must expect more deaths," Proudfoot finished.
There was a heavy silence in the room. Everybody seemed to be holding their breath. There weren't many former Death Eaters left. The most dangerous ones, such as Rodolphus Lestrange, were still behind bars in the North Sea. But the vast majority of them had done their sentence in Azkaban and were now free.
Harry felt Draco's foot press against his under the table, and he was grateful for the comfort this silent support brought him.
And then, almost immediately, the feeling of comfort disappeared, only to be replaced by something much less pleasant. He felt the blood leave his face as realisation struck: if the murderer targeted former Death Eaters, then it meant that the ones who were free weren't safe.
None of them.
Including Draco.
Harry felt his pulse thrumming at his neck as he spoke. "We have to take measures."
"What do you suggest?" Robards asked.
"Protection."
There was a murmur in the room. Harry saw Blaise nod at him as Draco shifted on his chair.
Robards raised an eyebrow. "Protection?"
Harry took a deep breath. "The murderer or murderers apparently target former Death Eaters. If we want to avoid any more people to die, we need to protect the potential victims until we catch them."
Another low murmur rolled in the room and soon, everybody started talking at once.
Finally, Smith's voice rose and the room went silent. "So, if I sum this up, Auror Potter." Smith sneered. "You want to mobilise the Auror forces to protect Death Eaters?"
Harry looked right in his eyes. "That's exactly what I'm saying."
Smith snorted loudly. "And why would we do that? Why would we mobilise our forces on these… people." He spat the last word more than said it, "While other, more respectable wizards need our help as well?"
Harry's blood froze in his veins and a shiver went down his spine. "Because it is our duty, Zacharias, to protect everyone."
"I disagree," Smith retorted. "We have to prioritise, Harry."
"We're talking about actual murders here, not people needing our help to go and catch a Kneazle stuck up in a tree!" Harry said indignantly. "Murders. People dying."
"People," Smith smirked.
"People are people," Susan cut in. "No matter what they did before."
"And as far as I know," said Harry, "We are taught in Auror training to 'serve and protect people,' not to 'serve and protect people who have an irreproachable past.'"
"Here we go again," said Thorpe, a white-haired man sitting next to Robards and who had been his Auror partner for decades before Robards became Head Auror. "I'm sick of hearing about these people over and over again. They've lost the war, they should be in Azkaban. If they still were, we wouldn't have all these problems and we could focus on real, important issues."
"I agree," Gallagher, Thorpe's current partner said. "If the Minister had applied the zero tolerance policy like he should have, and by that I mean life sentences in Azkaban, not the mere few years they got away with, we wouldn't be sitting here today wasting our time over non-issues."
Harry exhaled hard. Here we go again, he thought. The same old debate since the end of the war. The young, progressive generation versus the conservative side of the DMLE.
"Non-issues?" Susan Bones said. "You call the death of three people a non-issue?"
"Oh, please, not you, Bones," Gallagher retorted.
"Why not?" Susan said, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance.
"Well, I would've thought that you, of all people, wouldn't side for them. After all, you know very well what Death Eaters are capable of," Gallagher said with a sly smile. "Or shall I remind you of the hours of torture your aunt went through before they left her to die like an animal?"
Susan's mouth twitched.
"Those people have no qualms coming after us," Thorpe stepped in again. "They've killed many of very good men and women already. I'd say, why don't we let the murderer finish the job before those bastards come after us? Because they will, I'm telling you." He paused to relinquish the effect his words had on the Aurors present in the room. "They will come after us at one point, trust me."
Susan licked her lips and looked straight at him. "Oh, you needn't be scared, Thorpe," she said quietly. "They won't come after you. They only go after the ones who've got balls."
There were a few snickers in the room. Thorpe was as red as his Auror cloak.
"I think I'm starting to fall in love with her," Blaise murmured to Harry.
"You're already in love with her," Harry replied in the same tone and almost laughed, despite the seriousness of the moment, at the look of mixed incredulity and disgust on Blaise's face. Harry addressed the room again. "Let's not linger over what could've been right now," he said. "We wouldn't even have this discussion if the victims were Ministry employees. These people need our protection, end of the story."
Smith sneered. "I always knew you were a Death Eater lover."
Harry had to laugh at that. "Yeah, that's me. I love them so much that I killed their leader."
"You certainly seem to have no qualms working with one." Smith tilted his chin towards Draco.
Harry's fist clenched under the table. He felt Draco tense significantly next to him again, but didn't look at him. "Draco is an Auror."
"And a Death Eater."
"Former Death Eater," Harry countered.
"Once a Death Eater," Smith said with glee. "Always a Death Eater."
"And you certainly know what you're talking about, Smith," Draco said coolly. "Once a coward, always a coward."
Smith's smile faltered and his mouth curled into a sneer. "I am not a coward," he spat.
"Well, you did desert the battlefield at the beginning of the Battle of Hogwarts," Susan said nonchalantly. "Everybody saw you bowling over first-years to get out of there as quickly as possible."
Smith was as white as a sheet now, and Harry had a very hard time containing the laugh that threatened to escape his throat.
Smith stood, and pointed an accusing finger at Draco. "I will not be compared to any of his kind. I never killed anyone, I never even tried to kill anyone, unlike him! And here he is, parading like a Hippogriff expecting everyone to bow to him and treat him with respect. I will not—" Smith stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he stared at Draco, who had unbuttoned the left sleeve of his shirt and was casually rolling it up.
The room was eerily silent as every single Auror now stared at the deep black Dark Mark covering Draco's forearm. Smith gasped.
"Problem, Auror Smith?" Draco said, a dangerous glint passing through his eyes as he stared right back at Smith.
Smith had gone so pale he almost looked as if his eyebrows had vanished.
"There is no need for that, Auror Malfoy," said Robards sternly.
"Draco, don't," Harry whispered.
"Really?" Draco said, ignoring Harry.
"Malfoy, this is disgraceful."
"Oh, Smith," Draco finally said in a syrupy tone. "And thinking we were about to become the best of pals. Am I making you uncomfortable?"
"That's enough!" Robards said loudly. "Malfoy, cover your arm again. This meeting is adjourned until I have reached a decision. In the meantime, everyone goes back to their current cases."
Harry and Draco made their way back to their office, both lost in thoughts. The idea of Draco being in potential danger had not left Harry and made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. His brain tried to come up with solutions to keep Draco away from danger, but since they didn't really know what they were up against, none were satisfying. Besides, Draco would throw a fit at the mere hint that Harry was even considering protecting him.
Once back in their office, Draco went to the coat rack and grabbed his cloak.
Harry frowned. "Where are you going?"
"I'm off to the Manor." Draco gracefully put on his cloak.
"The Manor?"
"Yes, Potter, the place where my parents live," Draco said as if addressing a three year old.
Despite Draco's tone, Harry couldn't help noticing that he'd said 'where my parents live,' and not, 'where I live.'
Draco sighed as he took in the look on Harry's face and his features softened. He reached for Harry's cheek, cupping it tenderly before placing a kiss on Harry's mouth.
"I have to do it," he said in a softer tone. "I won't stand there and wait until Robards takes measures. It might be too late by then."
"You mean you want to…" Harry waved his hand.
Draco planted his eyes in Harry's. "I—" he started, brushing an invisible speck of dust off his cloak. "I think I'm going to spend a few days there, just in case."
"But—" Harry spluttered. "What about the case?"
Draco shrugged. "I can still work from there."
"But the tests?" Harry insisted. "The lab?"
"Is the Floo connected to the Network in Grimmauld Place?"
"Well, yes," Harry replied. "It was the first address I gave the DMLE when I started training."
"Good. Well, since the Manor is connected as well, it'll be easy for me to go back and forth."
It'd never occurred to Harry that the Ministry had willingly connected the Manor to the Floo Network. But since that was Draco's address, and he was an Auror, Harry guessed it made sense.
"It could be dangerous," Harry said again. "I mean, we know someone is trying to poison people, but what if they decided to change tactics? To kill them in a quicker and more, er, efficient way?"
"Oh, Potter." Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm very touched by your concern, but like you said at the meeting, I am an Auror. You know the three-year training and all these tests I passed with flying colours? It wasn't just for the sake of wearing Gryffindor colours every single day of my life. They had a purpose, you see. I am a very capable Auror."
"I know you are," Harry said, annoyed. "But don't you think it could be dangerous to concentrate several, er, potential targets in the same place?"
"I don't care." Draco said as he fastened his cloak. "My father's in danger, and I won't let anyone jeopardise either my mother's or his safety. I'm moving back in there."
"Then so am I," Harry blurted. He hadn't thought this through. Not really.
Draco frowned and a cleft formed between his eyes. "Are you serious?"
"Yes." Harry's voice sounded way more assured than he really was.
"But why?"
Harry shrugged. "Moral support?"
"You're willing to go and what, basically live with my parents just to—"
"Yes," Harry cut in. "It's just for a few days, anyway, right?"
"Yes, yes, of course. But." Draco paused. "You do remember who my parents are, Potter?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "As if I could ever forget the numerous times your father tried to do me in. But it doesn't matter. I want to be able to help."
Draco narrowed his eyes, scrutinising him, and Harry held his gaze. "Mm," he said after a moment that seemed like hours. "You might prove useful there," Draco finally said.
"Oh, thank you," Harry deadpanned. "I'm very flattered you would consider me as useful."
"You're welcome, Potter. I like making people happy."
"God, you're—"
"I know," Draco whispered before kissing Harry again. "But I mean it. There are a few books in the library at the Manor that could be of interest in the case."
"Okay." Harry reached up for another kiss. The way Draco acted, always needing to be close to Harry, always needing to touch him, made Harry's toes curl in his shoes.
"I'll go and warn my parents immediately so that my father has all the time in the world to think of various evil plans to make your life miserable while we're there."
"Sounds fun." Harry sniggered. "I can't wait."
"I know." Draco grinned. "I'll have to tell them that we had no choice though, that the orders come from the DMLE and that we couldn't do otherwise."
Harry nodded.
"AND," Draco said. "No fooling around while we're there. As far as my parents know, we're just colleagues."
"Fine." Harry felt a pang at Draco's words. But he had to be reasonable, and let Draco go at his own pace. "In the meantime, I'll go and check Avery's body at St Mungo's."
"Right, you do that." Draco pressed another kiss to Harry's lips. "I'm off. First to the manor, and then I'll go back to Grimmauld Place. I have to go through all the medicinal potions Jugson ingested over the past weeks. I'll see you later."
"Later."
The door slammed behind Draco, and Harry rubbed his eyes under his glasses.
He was going to stay at Malfoy Manor.
Well, that was going to be interesting.
Harry had to set himself into motion. He went to check if they had any memos, which they did, including a red one from Kingsley asking him to come over to his office as soon as possible, so Harry went immediately.
The rich, baritone voice of the Minister reached Harry through the thick wood panel as he knocked on the door.
"Harry." Kingsley stood from his dragon-hide chair to greet him. "Please take a seat."
"Thanks." Harry sat in one of the two armchairs facing Kingsley's mahogany desk. It was a rather imposing desk, but there were barely any papers on it. Kingsley liked keeping things in order, and it showed in the way his office was organised.
"I've asked to meet with you," Kingsley started in his deep, low voice, "so that you could tell me more about the Death Eater murders case."
Harry frowned. "Shouldn't you be asking the Head Auror about it?"
"I already have," Kingsley replied. "I want to hear what you have to say about it. After all, you're one of the two Aurors in charge of the investigation."
Harry nodded. "Fair enough." He told Kingsley everything, from the day they found Jugson in Cornwall at the bottom of the cliff, to Vera Crabbe, Vincent Crabbe's death at St Mungo's and Avery's body found in Knockturn Alley.
"Thank you, Harry." Kingsley leaned forward in his chair, and let his elbows rest on his desk. "What line of action would you choose right now? If you could decide."
"Well, like I told the Head Auror, I'd first and foremost protect the potential targets," Harry said. "There are not many of them, and we know everyone's whereabouts, so it shouldn't be too hard to do."
"For how long would you do that?" Kingsley asked.
"Not for long," Harry replied. "Just a few days."
"Would that be enough for you to catch the murderer?"
Harry took a deep breath. "Well, hopefully."
"Head Auror Robards doesn't seem to think the same," Kingsley said, his face unreadable. "I have just received this."
Kingsley retrieved a blue memo from the drawer of his desk and handed it to Harry.
Harry shook his head as he discovered the content. He discarded the memo back on the desk and looked up at Kingsley. "He won't do it," Harry said bitterly, unable to hold back the disappointment that flared inside him. "He's made his decision and he won't send Aurors to protect former Death Eaters."
Kingsley shook his head. "Indeed he won't."
Harry couldn't believe it. For once, Robards had the opportunity to show himself as a true leader, and he failed miserably by choosing, once again, the easy way, too afraid to ruffle his supporters's feathers.
"What else would you do?" Kingsley asked again.
"Well…" Harry replied. "I'd go for quiet. We need to buy time until we know for sure who's behind those attacks. For now, we have no clue as to who the perpetrator is."
Kingsley leaned forward. "So you wouldn't be favourable to making the progress you've made public just yet?"
"No."
Kingsley looked surprised. "Why not?"
Harry took a deep breath. "It'd put the potential victims in a greater danger."
"I see," Kingsley replied. "However, it could also reassure the rest of the population."
"I—" Harry had to choose his words carefully. "I know what you mean, sir. But I don't think it would be a good sign to send to the wizarding population. I mean." Harry rubbed his hand on his trousers. "You've spent the last years trying to bring people together, your whole policy aims at unity, and I'm afraid…" Harry looked up. "I'm afraid stigmatising a category of the population—no matter what this category is—would lead to an animosity and fear that would risk to destroy what you've worked so hard to build."
Kingsley nodded but said nothing.
"So, yeah," Harry went on. "That'd be a mistake for me. We still need more time to figure out the whole thing, and we won't be able to do so if we inform people, and among them the murderer, what exactly we're looking for."
"Very well." Kingsley leaned back in his chair and joined his hands in front of his mouth, scrutinising Harry.
"I suppose Malfoy will want to be with his parents."
"As a matter of fact," Harry said. "He's already told me he would."
"And?" Kingsley's eyes were fixed on his now. "What about you?"
"I'll go with him," Harry said. "I'm his partner."
"Of course." Kingsley paused, still looking at Harry. "I expected you to." Harry nodded. "May I ask you to keep an eye on Lucius while you're there, Harry?"
Harry frowned. "Why?"
Kingsley sighed. "There's been some… unusual activity over the past weeks in the area and I'd like to make sure he's not involved."
"What kind of unusual activity?"
"Oh, not much. Just—" Kingsley waved his hand in the air. "A couple of meetings between people who have been under the Ministry's surveillance since they left Azkaban."
"Okay," Harry said, standing up. "I'll keep my eyes open."
"Thank you. And Harry?" Kingsley said. "Please be careful."
Harry smiled. "I will."
"Thanks for coming over, Harry."
"You're welcome."
Harry spent the rest of the morning at St Mungo's, working on Avery's body. He took notes with his Quick-Quote Quill as he talked to the Forensic wizard in charge of the body. Unsurprisingly, he found the same green tinge on Avery's ankle as the one they'd found on Jugson and Crabbe.
When he was finally done at St Mungo's, it was already way past noon so Harry directly went to Weasley's Wizards Wheezes to pick up Ron for their weekly lunch.
Ron was as busy as ever, bent over an impressive pile of parchments as Harry knocked on the open door.
"Hey," he said, dropping the bag holding their sandwiches on Ron's desk as an incentive. "You ready?"
"Fuck, no." Ron grunted, pushing his swivel chair away from his desk with both hands. "I swear all this paperwork is going to drive me crazy."
"What's going on?" Harry said, coming closer and taking a peek over Ron's shoulder. "Anything I can help with?"
Ron snorted. "Unless you have basic knowledge in accounting, then no."
Harry smiled apologetically. "Sorry, mate."
"That's fine." Ron stood. He went to grab his cloak and put it on. "It's just that the bloody stock never corresponds with the right number of items and it's a fucking pain every single month."
"What's the problem?"
Ron sighed. "Well, take the De-Ageing creams, for example." He took out a parchment from under the pile on his desk. "You know that's one of our most famous items in the shop, right?"
Harry nodded. George and Ron had developed a range of creams that allowed the buyers to smooth their features and make them look visibly younger for a few hours. George often bragged to supply the whole Muggle government with those creams but Harry didn't know if it was true.
"Well, on this chart," Ron went on, pointing at the piece of parchment, "It says that we've ordered fifty for the month of April. We sold forty-six of them and yet, the rest has just… vanished."
"Isn't it possible that you've just misplaced them?" Harry asked.
Ron shook his head. "We haven't. We had Frank check them every month ever since he's worked here. They're nowhere. It's not a big number every time, but still."
"And er…" Harry said carefully. "Do you trust Frank? I mean—"
Ron held up his hand. "I do. We've thought about that with George, to be honest, but it wouldn't make much sense. Why would he risk his position for a few pots of cream?"
Harry shrugged. "Black market?"
"Only a handful of them have disappeared," Ron said. "I know I haven't been an Auror for a while, but it doesn't seem to be enough to really make money." Ron took his wand to turn off the lights and they left his office. "What about you?" he asked as they made their way through the shop, in between huge piles of coloured boxes. "How are things?"
"Good," Harry said, in what he hoped was a casual tone. "Good."
Ron paused and caught Harry's elbow. "What is it?"
"Nothing." Harry shrugged.
Ron shook his head. "I know that look on your face. What's going on?"
Harry chuckled. "Nothing important, I swear. It's just that—" He took a breath. "Well, I'm about to spend the next few days at Malfoy Manor."
"You're going to WHAT?"
"Say that louder," said Harry, pushing Ron towards the exit. "I'm sure Hannah in the Leaky hasn't heard you properly."
"But, seriously, mate?" Ron opened the front door and the warm air from Diagon Alley engulfed in the little shop. The weather seemed to have finally caught up with the fact that it was May. "You're really going to move into Malfoy Manor? The place where Hermione was tortured?"
Harry sighed. "I know. You needn't remind me." They made their way through the crowd until they'd reached the Apparition point where a handful of wizards were queueing. "There's no other option. And it's just for a few days, anyway."
"Going to live with your in-laws, well, that's going to be fun." Ron snorted.
Harry rolled his eyes. "They're not my in-laws."
"Well, you're dating their son, so…"
"Yeah, I s'pose."
"Do they know about Malfoy and you?" asked Ron.
Harry kept his eyes in front of him, while the queue moved rapidly. "No."
Ron chuckled. "Definitely going to be interesting, then."
"Shut up," Harry said as finally it was their turn to Apparate away.
They opened the door of 12, Grimmauld Place to the sounds of Walburga Black's shrieks of 'Filth, stains of dishonour, blood-traitors copulating with Mudbloods, spawning the children of Satan,' and some other niceties.
And of course, she wasn't alone. Draco was pacing in front of her, one finger pressed to his pointy chin, his face shut deep in concentration.
"I can't find it, Great-Auntie Wally," Draco whined, their arrival still unnoticed at that point. "And I need to. But it's not in the food, it's not in the potions and draughts, it's nofuckingwhere!"
Mrs Black's shrieks redoubled at Draco's use of the swear word, so Harry shut her down by closing the curtains.
Draco spun on his heels. "Potter?" he said with a reproving look. "Why did you do that?"
"Um, maybe because she was insulting us?"
"In— Insulting— Oh. Hi, Weasley." Draco nodded to Ron and turned back to Harry. "Oh come on, you know it's her way of showing she's happy to see you." He turned to Ron again. "She's very affectionate."
"Sounds more like a vicious old hag to me," muttered Ron.
"We brought you sandwiches," Harry said, wishing to avoid an impassioned speech about Mrs Black's hidden qualities.
Draco took a deep, exaggerated breath and held his hand in front of him. "No."
Harry frowned. "What?"
"No food."
"No. Food."
Draco nodded gravely.
"And why, exactly?" Harry asked.
"I cannot let myself get distracted by pathetic trivialities as long as I haven't found the poison."
"Oh." Harry nodded. "So. No food, then?"
"Absolutely," Draco replied. "And no sex, either."
"Hey!" Harry said indignantly. "Why am I being punished?"
Ron cleared his throat behind them. "Er, remember me?"
"Sorry Ron," Harry said. He turned back to Draco. "But no sex, though."
"I'm sure Weasley is very familiar with the concept," Draco said. "More often than not, I'd say."
"Don't you—" Ron started.
"Right," Harry cut in. "So you haven't found anything?"
"No, I haven't!" Draco said in a dramatic tone, as he led them through the door of his lab, his arms raised to the ceiling. He rounded the table and bent over his cauldron. There were dozens of phials covering a huge part of the table. Draco dimmed the lights with his wand, and closed the heavy curtains. He flicked his wand one last time and a blue light looking as if it were coming from the ground lit him up, giving the whole scene a rather dramatic tone.
"Er," Harry said. "Do you really need the theatrics, right now?"
"Shh, Potter," Draco snapped. "I'm trying to concentrate." He pressed his fingers on each one of his temples and let the vapours from the cauldron drape him in. He closed his eyes.
"What's he doing?" Ron whispered in Harry's ear.
"No idea." Harry walked closer. "Draco."
"What?" Draco opened his eyes again.
"You need a break." He caught one of Draco's hands and shoved the sandwich in his hand. "Eat."
Draco narrowed his eyes. "No."
"Fine." Harry sighed. "We'll be upstairs, if you want to join us."
"Well, that was…" Ron said as they settled in their usual sofas.
Harry sighed. "I know."
"He's just—"
"Yeah."
"Right." Ron bit in his sandwich and Harry followed suit.
The case was getting frustrating. They'd made great steps forward at the beginning, but since they'd established that the victims had been poisoned, they hadn't made any progress, and more people were dying. Harry had gone through the numerous elements they'd collected on the two different sites, he'd interrogated half a dozen people without success—including Blaise's mum—and Proudfoot had given Harry everything he had on the Avery case this morning.
And still, it was leading nowhere.
The three victims had been poisoned. They all sported the same green tinge by their ankle. If the common factor between Jugson and Crabbe had been Vera Crabbe, she had nothing to do—that they knew of—with Avery, whom she hadn't seen in years. And yet, the three of them were dead.
"Difficult case, huh?" Ron's voice took Harry from his reverie.
Harry realised he'd barely touched his sandwich, but still he discarded it on the coffee table between the two sofas and rested his feet on the edge. "Yeah. It's just… We're missing something, and I can't seem to put my finger on it, and it's— well. Never mind. What about you? Apart from the paperwork, I mean."
A wide grin formed on Ron's face, as he took out his latest invention. "I thought you'd never ask." He handed the blue watch they'd tested the week before to Harry.
He examined it carefully. It didn't look very different from the last time, but the proud look on Ron's face told Harry everything he needed to know. "Is it working now?"
"Beyond my wildest expectations," Ron replied proudly. "I've finally found what was wrong with the transmission and since I've fixed it, it really is incredible. I was able to extend its range of action to several miles."
"Wow," Harry said, genuinely impressed at Ron's skills. "What did Hermione say, then? Have you shown her?"
Another smile illuminated Ron's face, making his freckles stand out even more. "She said she couldn't have done it better," he said with a hint of pride.
"Wow. Coming from Hermione, that says something."
"I know." Ron flicked his wand over his hands and had the crumbs disappear. "Here. You can have them."
"Wait," Harry said. "What?"
"They're for you." Ron shrugged. "And Malfoy I guess."
"Are you serious? I mean, they're your—"
Ron shook his head. "I already have a couple more in production. I made them with you in mind. I want you to have them."
"Thanks, mate." Harry shook his head. "I don't know what to say."
"You're welcome." Ron seemed to hesitate. "I thought it could potentially keep you safe in delicate situations. If they prove useful to the Aurors, then I'll propose them to the DMLE."
"They're amazing, Ron. Honestly."
Harry pocketed the two watches and they finished eating, speaking of anything and everything before returning downstairs. Draco was still working on his potions, but had thankfully opened the curtains again. His pointy face was more serious than ever as he talked to himself, the way he always did when he tried to figure out something that escaped him.
"It's impossible," he was telling the cauldron. "How could you not be anywhere? I've checked the food, I've checked the medicine, I've checked all the potions, the draughts and still nothing."
"Draco?" Harry said as he came closer.
"What?" Draco spat. "Do not interrupt me unless you can tell me what I've missed."
"Well, it must be somewhere," Harry said.
"Thank you for this ever useful comment, Potter," Draco snapped. "Ever thought of becoming the expert on Stating the Obvious?"
"Oi!" Ron said. After all these years, he still felt like he had to defend Harry's honour. "Don't talk to him like that."
"It's all right," Harry said. "He doesn't mean it."
"Excuse me, but I do," Draco retorted.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Right, he means it, then."
"You're dating this guy?" Ron asked, pointing at Draco who was still glaring at his cauldron. "Seriously?"
"Oh, Weasley," Draco said. "Do us all a favour and just shut up."
"Right." Ron turned to Harry. "I've got to go back anyway. Find out what is wrong with those bloody creams."
Harry's heart stopped in his chest. "What did you just say?" he asked in a breath.
Ron scratched his head. "Er, bloody creams?"
"That's it!" Harry yelled as he turned to Draco. "It's neither in the food nor in the potions because it's in a cream, or an unguent of any sort!"
Draco's eyes widened. "But—"
"Think about it," Harry said, coming closer to Draco. "When I collected the samples in Jugson's flat, there were all sorts of creams in the bathroom, and at the time, I didn't think they could be of any use, because we thought the poison had been ingested, but what if it was how it worked? Through their skin?"
"Do you have the samples?" Draco blanched, trepidation obvious in his voice. "Did you take them?"
"Yeah, of course I did. I put them in a separate bag." Harry went straight to the corner of the room where he'd deposited the different pots the very first day Draco had set his lab. "Here."
Harry was so excited as he took the samples out of the bag that his fingers trembled slightly around his wand.
"Merlin," Ron said behind him, reminding Harry of his presence.
Here they were: the various pots and containers from Jugson's bathroom. Harry organised them on the table.
Draco took the one closest to him and examined it. "I can't believe it."
"Let's just analyse them, quick," Harry said, excitement building up inside him.
"Okay." And for once, Draco had no clever repartee to offer.
"Wait a minute," Ron said as Draco unscrewed the lid of the pot; it was the wooden one with the Devil's Snare on it. "How come they would use the same cream? I mean, that doesn't make much sense to me."
A cold sweat ran through Harry's spine, sobering him up instantly. Ron was right. Harry glanced at Draco who had suspended his movement.
"Because," Ron went on. "How could the murderer be sure to get the right target? Unless they want to kill people randomly, which doesn't seem to be the case."
"Shit," Harry said, running his hand through his hair as he started pacing the room. "You're right. It doesn't make any sense. We still haven't found the common factor apart from the fact that they are all Death Eat—" Harry's jaw dropped open. "Oh my God."
"What?" Draco snapped. "Potter, what is it?"
"Oh my fucking God," Harry said again. "I can't believe I haven't thought about it before." Harry started rummaging through through the inside pocket of his robe. He took out the three files from the three different cases, flicked his wand over them to get them back to their normal size.
He took out the pictures from the three bodies. He heard Draco's gasp at the sight of Crabbe's corpse, but didn't pay attention to it.
He spread the three pictures on the table side by side: Jugson's and Avery's on the forensics team's table at St Mungo's, and Crabbe's on his hospital bed.
"Fucking hell," Harry said under his breath.
The pictures. It had been right there all along. And he hadn't noticed it.
It was unforgivable.
"Potter," Draco said, "I swear if you don't—"
"Take off your robe, quick!"
"What?" Draco asked in disbelief.
"Your robe!" Harry said again. But as Draco wasn't moving fast enough, Harry went to untie it himself.
"Hey!" Draco said. "I wasn't joking earlier on, when I said no sex. I know I'm irresistible, but still."
Harry was barely listening to him. He removed Draco's Auror robes from his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor and quickly undid the cuffs of Draco's left sleeve. He then rolled the sleeve up, revealing Draco's Dark Mark.
Draco's very black Dark Mark.
"Holy shit," Ron muttered behind them.
"This is how," Harry said, pointing at Draco's Mark. "This is how the murderer does it. I don't know the details, but I'm sure this is how. Draco." Harry turned to him. "Remember when you told me some Death Eaters had tried to get rid of their Mark without much success? What if that's it? What if they buy this cream from someone, thinking it'll make it go forever?"
Draco was speechless. And that was a first.
"Just look," Harry went on. "Look at the pictures. Look at their Mark." Harry held the picture of Jugson in front of Draco. "Look closely. It's different from yours. It's faded. Fuck." Harry ran his hand in his hair again. "It was right under our nose the whole time."
"I can't believe it," Draco said.
"We need to warn everyone," Harry replied. "I'll Floo to the Ministry immediately."
Draco nodded. "And I'll analyse those creams while you're away."
"Good."
"We'll meet here afterwards and then go to the Manor together," Draco said again. "I need to make sure they're okay."
"I—" In the heat of the moment, Harry had forgotten about his stay with the Malfoys. "Yes. And we can also ask them about the cream, whether they've heard of anything."
"Okay. And Potter?" Draco walked to Harry and wrapped his arms around him before kissing him. "I can't wait to do all sorts of unspeakable things to you tonight," he said, loud enough for Ron to hear him.
Ron pressed his hands to his ear. "Not listening."
Harry smiled. "I thought we wouldn't be fooling around at your parents's?"
"Well, it's a big house." Draco winked at him. "I'm sure we'll find a way."
"Good." Harry kissed him again. "It should be fun."
