A/N-
Soooo. Quickie warning; if the idea of a psychotic murderer ejaculating on a note to Harry squicks you out, a little while after the letter, you might want to scan and hope you miss it. -grimaces- I really was disturbed, and I wrote it. . I fear my mind sometimes.
Another quickie note, this one on the letter; I switched to realize, because technically, Malachai is American, so he'd use the American spellings. It took way too long for me to switch back. XD
'My dearest Rhiannon,
It is my hope that this reaches you well. Your health is well desired, and perhaps now you've come to understand what I could not all those years ago. I have heard much of your escapades; how you are the Magus Corps Italian Rabbit, how you destroyed the last festering remains of the Temperance League.
The League was once my most precious affiliation. I knew its ranks better than my own family for a time; eventually they became part of those ranks. It was not without a price – I lost many, many friends and family to our crusade. Now, I know it could have been dealt with differently, but what but force changes the world? A mountain will not fall without the touch of a god; a speeding train will not be halted with the ground beneath it collapsing. Force has always stopped the march of that which is undesired. However, it cannot stand against love – it has never been able to stand against it, never been able to claim it. Your mother, may she rest in more peace than she was given in life, showed me that. I didn't want to love her – I tried my hardest to remain loyal to Lucrezia, ignoring Bernadette, even insulting and degrading her in public, and every day I became more and more obsessed. No amount of force could have stopped me from begging for her hand in marriage, not even the force that left my leg shattered after I killed Lucrezia to protect the idiot Magus who attempted to infiltrate the League.
Gerard Green is possibly the most inept Magus I have ever met, but your uncle is nevertheless a competent wizard. It was he who saved me from the jaws of Muggleborn mobs in France when we were visiting a young archeologist and his rich backer, one Lucius Malfoy. Before he became one of the most notorious purebloods in the world, he was very much interested in backing long-shots and chuckling when he came up with piles of money from them that left his contemporaries green with envy. His personal fortune was built off of this ability to see potential and twist it to his own use. Gerard, Lucius and I were extremely close, before Gerard simply disappeared. I drifted back to America and while remaining in contact with Lucius, didn't see him nearly as much as I would have liked.
I understand that this probably seems irrelevant – mindless ramblings to put off an apology, perhaps. I have not been the most involved parent – I went so far as to almost abandon you completely. I...I did not realize how much I needed you and your mother. Love did not form the bonds I needed – I assumed love would give me everything I needed, that I did not need to try to give those bonds any attention. I – I loved you and your mother. I further pushed you away when I realized I was being hunted, hunted by someone obsessed with the Pillar of Heaven. We of the Del Toros married into one of the many tribes descended from those original snake-whisperers and the starred race, as well as the wolf seers – we specifically came from a sect of the starred race that chose to stand away from their brethren and chronicle the events that destroyed their empire. Darling, I wish I didn't have to stay away for so many years, and I know nothing can recover that time, but perhaps now we have a chance. I will be in Britain in a few days – near the end of the month – directly from Florida to the Malfoys' Manor. I pray I may see you then. Darling one, I pray you may forgive me in time. Until then, your ever loving father,
Malachai Del Toro.
Harry dropped the letter back onto the desk, dragging his fingers through his hair.
"Jesus..."
"It does seem rather disconcerting, to say the least." He sighed, shaking his head.
"...Should I just forget about it and focus on the case?"
"It is advised." He nodded, eyes unfocused.
"Thanks, Sev..." The man seemed to realise his former student needed time to himself and made himself scarce. Harry trailed his fingers over the desk's grain, thoughts grim. They were running out of time; the days passed without much more information, while bodies began to stack up outside of London and throughout the world, each attack becoming bloodier and bloodier. The newest change in the man's M.O. was the disappearance of internal organs; first the brain, then the heart, then both. New marks were appearing, and no one, not even the many Pillar of Heaven "experts" in the Americas, seemed to know what they meant. Another note, badly written – as if the writer was frantic or excited – was found, with, much to Harry's horror and disgust, semen on it. The basic message was simple; the murderer exclaiming over his delight in being so close to having Harry all to himself, with an outline of his demands upon defeating Harry in this little "game". Harry hadn't seen the note itself yet – Mallory seemed convinced that it would throw him off his focus, and Harry honestly couldn't resent him hiding the contents from him. He leaned back, exhaling wearily.
They had exactly one week before the month was over, and after that – Harry didn't know. He hadn't the slightest idea what the admittedly disturbing man had in store for him. He rose and kicked the chair back into place, striding out and heading up to his room, when Kreacher's harsh tones filtered to his ears from the darkness.
"The Master Harry is receiving a call from the Master's employer. He says it is urgent, Master Harry, sir." He noted the house elf's slightly strained tones and realised Mallory must have yelled; Kreacher wasn't easily startled or alarmed.
"Right away, Kreacher. I'll see him in the study; do not wake Magus Del Toro, understood?" The house elf nodded curtly and stalked away. Harry disregarded his usual philosophy of if you don't need magic, don't use it, and Apparated into the study.
"Potter!" Was that relief in his voice?
"Mallory-"
"We found Irwinson's body." The Auror stared into the flickering flames, face pale.
"He – the headhunter?" Mallory nodded – awkward given his position.
"Not his usual M.O., but most definitely him – left a note."
"Not his usual M.O.?"
"No; he was beheaded, yes, but he was also disemboweled, and his head was left at the scene – with a Glasgow grin. I don't think I've ever seen someone put so much effort into making something so horrific." Harry swallowed hard, wondering absently if he should maybe sit down.
"I'll be there directly-"
"No, Auror Potter, you will not. You are going to remain with Malfoy at all times; he is likely the man's next victim. Aurors Creed Jones and Valeria Priscilla Tanner are being sent to Malfoy Manor. Given their...particular specialties, they should be safer than ever before." Harry snorted at that. Creed was a werecat and prone to violent reactions to anyone stupid enough to threaten her charges. Her partner, Valeria, was a peculiar halfblood vampire bonded to a miniature dragon by the name of Lorcan. Valeria tended to call him Ani, much to Creed's never-ending amusement and the regal little dragon's disgust.
"Spend the next two days away from the case – we are forming a trap for this sonuvabitch, and I need you to play bait. Tomorrow, spend the day with Malfoy. The day after that, with the Weasleys and Mrs. Malfoy. I'll keep you in the loop – we have a new expert coming in-"
"Troy's father."
"...Yes. Is she-"
"She'll be fine. She's...she'll be fine." Mallory shook his head.
"I'll contact you tomorrow. Get some sleep."
"Yes sir."
Troy stretched and flipped over onto her stomach, grinning a little at the light pouring through the window, surrounding the majestic owl on the sill in a halo.
"Cleopatra." The pharoah eagle owl eyed her, and she giggled, rising and opening the window, offering her arm.
"Darling, he does not pamper you nearly enough. Kreacher!" The crack that heralded the elf seemed somehow duller than usual. She narrowed her eyes at him a bit, trying to figure out why, then shook her head.
"Go get one of those rabbit carcasses I procured a few days ago for Cleopatra, please. She'll be in the attic."
"Yes, Mistress Magus. Kreacher understands the Mistress Magus. Does the Mistress Magus have any other requests for Kreacher?"
"No, Kreacher."
"Kreacher will see to Mistress Magus's request." She smiled and Apparated up to the attic, placing Cleopatra on the perch she'd set up for her, pushing the window open.
"Kreacher will be up with the rabbit in a little bit," she murmured as she untied the letter from the owl's left foot, scratching the ruff of feathers around her neck.
'Troy,
I'll come pick you up from Grimmauld around 10:00; forgive my need to see you as soon as possible, but I did not realise you would be so enthusiastic. I must also beg your forgiveness for my romanticism; I am reserving the right to surprise you with our location. Typical Elliot. She would be gnawed at by curiosity until he showed up, and her enthusiasm to put an end to that sensation would translate, in his mind, to enthusiasm towards him. Narcissist.
It is ever my pleasure to be in your company. Until ten,
Elliot.
Troy rolled her eyes and tossed the letter, smile twisting wryly. She should probably figure out what to wear before anything else. She wrinkled her nose as she returned to her room, mulling over her – many – choices. She was going on a date – to where, she didn't know, but she knew Elliot would tell her if she required something for their date. It was summer, so she could pass on almost all of the troublesome but nevertheless striking furs, though she did distinctly remember bringing a light silk capelet in a rich chocolate brown trimmed with mink fur of a lighter shade...odd that that came to mind. She waved the closet open while mentally putting combinations together.
"Where did I – wait." She stepped away from the closet and rummaged through her trunk, eventually producing a doe brown off the shoulder peasant blouse with pale yellow and green embroidered flowers ringing the puffed sleeves' wrists and the neckline. She returned to the closet and found the capelet as well as the knee length pleated skirt, in pale green, tossing them on the bed and crouching to drag a pair of chocolate brown ankle boots, similar to those she'd worn the night of the riot, though these had embossed flowers twining from the toe up to the ankle, where they ringed the top. She continued her quiet, deliberate motions, dressing while humming Ring Around The Rosie, then pulling out a worn, unmarked box from her trunk, a small, sad smile materializing on her face. She flipped it open and slid on two heavy gold bangles that chimed delicately in defiance of their seemingly heavy form. These were followed by a pair of rustic flower earrings, each in dark wood inlaid with gold. Finally, she pulled out a battered locket, its metal indeterminable with age. She examined it, smile turning ever so bitter. She'd been given this locket by her father, along with the flask and the cane – he'd said nothing as he'd pressed them into her small hands. Now she could picture his weak, pained smile clearly. Now she knew the fear he'd been feeling. She slowly clasped the old locket around her neck, smiling with a bit of disgust at her trembling hands. She sighed and pulled on the boots, making a face at the way her socks bunched. She didn't understand socks; they seemed to have minds of their own more often than not, and that was far too often as it was. However, she did understand their appeal; there was something innocently delightful about the articles of clothing, however inexplicable it may be. She started at the knock at the door, summoning a brush to her hands as she moved forward.
"Troy? It's us." She nudged the door open and smiled a bit at the two nervous wizards. Harry noted the smile immediately and relaxed.
"You're feeling better?" She nodded, accepting the enthused hug from Draco – how was he so energetic so bloody early in the morning? She wasn't even fully awake!
"You're going on a date!" Oh gods. This. She winced.
"Yes, Draco, I'm going on a date-"
"Where?"
"I don't know, he didn't deem to tell me." Draco's eyes went wide, and he grinned, ducking Harry's gentle smack to the head.
"You are soooo getting laid! Don't hit me, you know I'm right!" Harry rolled his eyes at Draco's fiendish cackle and returned his attention to Troy, who was turning a rather adorable shade of pink, though her eyes were promising murder to Draco.
"Ignore him and have a good time." She sniffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
"That shouldn't be a problem – I'd offer the same invitation, but you cannot very well ignore him while going out with him, can you?" He grinned.
"I could try." Draco made an odd, high pitched mewl of objection and flung his arms around Harry's neck.
"You wouldn't, would you?"
"No Draco – you're cutting off my ability to breathe comfortably." He slowly untangled himself from the blonde, ignoring Troy's soft snort and murmur of, "Whipped.".
"You should probably go about your hour long morning ritual, shouldn't you?" He snorted.
"It does not take me an hour."
"...You're right. Maybe two." The blonde threw up his hands and stalked back to Harry's room.
"You two have a good day."
"Tell Grayson I said hi."
"I'm moderately certain Auror Potter did not tell you to tell me he would rip my innards out and hang me from them if I hurt you." She smirked.
"You sure?" Elliot chuckled, dragging his fingers through his hair.
"Given my knowledge of his temper...no." She laughed and threaded her arm through his, grinning a little when he pulled her closer, dropping his head to nuzzle her hair gently.
"So...will you tell me now where we're going?"
"Mm...somewhere – bright."
"Och! That could be anything!" He twirled one of her curls around his finger, smirking absently again.
"Darling, given your knowledge of the world, you should know it is no such thing. Think on it." She paused, lifting her head from his shoulder as she watched him leaf through a brochure in the international Portkey center he'd brought them to.
"You're taking me to Paris?" She wasn't sure why she was surprised; given that it was Elliot, who seemed to be a gushing romantic at heart and probably had a soft spot for France from his school years, she shouldn't have been. And yet, the gesture warmed her. She mentally scolded herself for the reaction, blushing lightly as she gently slapped his arm.
"Hopeless romantic." He snorted.
"I cannot help who I am." She shook her head, smiling and tracing small patterns on his forearm.
"Have you a specific venue we will be frequenting? Paris is not small."
"I actually took time to plan our trip, dearest." She feigned surprise.
"Elliot Grayson, plan ahead? Dear me, what will become of us?" He rolled his eyes, freeing his arm to twine it around her waist and hug her close.
"You tell me, Troy – what will become of us?" The mirth twinkling in her eyes faded and she sobered, meeting his dark eyes, no longer worried that he would see the fear that had festered for so long in her heart.
"I don't know, Elliot – I really don't."
"Draco, I already told you about five times, we're late!" The blonde dragged his fingers through his thick hair and frowned. It simply refused to cooperate, and now of all times! He fought the urge to grin like a lunatic and failed. They were going on a date! If it weren't for the fact that he only allowed so much mindless delight in his daily routine, he'd be dancing around in circles with a possibility of squealing at the thought. Of course, Harry had been clear that technically they were playing bait, but that didn't change the principle of the thing. He twisted a lock of his hair around his finger and frowned again. Why couldn't it cooperate just this once-
"Draco, you look great. Stop scowling at your hair." He spun on his stool and looked the brunette over. He was wearing a gift from Narcissa, a leather vest in black with blood red and silver dragons twined around one another on the back, their flames flickering across his shoulders if you were looking for them. Black jeans and a white shirt that somehow seemed to echo scales when the light hit it just right, and the gleaming diamond in his ear finished the ensemble, though Draco noticed with no little amusement that he was indeed wearing eyeliner. He left the stool to twine around him.
"You look wonderful."
"Mm. I'm me, I'm supposed to. You look delicious as well." Harry snorted.
"You practically dressed me, Draco." The blonde shrugged, nipping his earlobe gently.
"Why are you complaining about being late? No one's going to complain about Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy being late anywhere – money and reputation do that."
"It's polite to arrive at the agreed upon time." He felt Harry part his hair and sat still while he braided it. He took a moment to be absolutely certain it was to his standards, ignoring Harry's eye roll, and sniffed.
"It will do. Now, where are we-" He blinked when Harry produced a gleaming key and handed it to him, searching for something else.
"Going." He blinked again and held the key up, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. It was a stylized mermaid – similar to the Muggle archetype, as opposed to the actual creature – bearing what appeared to be an aquatic take on a cornucopia.
"Harry...this...this is-"
"A key to a private car on Fortune's Depths, I know. I've had it for...about three years now, after I supposedly thwarted a terrorist attack on it." Draco shook his head, ever in awe of his modesty. That event he hadn't even needed the papers for; Nis hadn't stopped talking about it for at least a week, nor had anyone in Depravia or Purloined. Harry had, according to those in the know, been taking vacation time, been invited onto Fortune's Depths, an underwater train that circled the Mediterranean area, by a friend, and stumbled on the group intending on sinking the train, a cruise of sorts, complete with hotel, restaurant, and casino, for good. They'd panicked upon being faced by a bewildered Saviour of the Wizarding World, and Harry had reacted entirely by reflex. When they'd found them, the entire group was bound a gagged, and Harry was reading their orders, sprawled nonchalantly on a couch, drinking wine.
The grateful owners, a brother/sister duo by the names of Amber and Loki Triach, apparently gave him the key as compensation, though that information wasn't made public.
"...Exotic. I don't think I've ever been on the Fortune's Depths."
"I know. I thought about this for a while, I couldn't think of anything you probably hadn't already experienced more than once." Draco pouted.
"I cannot help it that my parents insisted on spoiling me, and upon become an adult, I came into a large amount of money and had no clear path in life." The brunette shrugged, reclaiming the key and pressing a small, ovular gem into his hand.
"Keep that on you; I need to be able to find you at all times, alright?" He examined the dull gray stone and nodded, noting the small loop at the top. Harry wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him forward.
"We have a train to catch, dear."
Mallory flipped through another file. The murders had stopped abruptly around the world, and more and more bodies were piling up all over London, closer and closer to Depravia and Grimmauld than ever before. He dropped the file and dragged a hand across his eyes.
"Damn it all."
"Auror Mallory? Mrs. Malfoy is here with our informant, sir." He looked up at the aide peering around his door. He waved him away.
"Send them in." He re-knotted his tie and dragged his fingers through his hair, trying to look like he wasn't dead on his feet. He couldn't remember his last full meal, let alone his last full night of sleep that was actually restful. The door opened again even as he rose to greet them.
Narcissa Malfoy looked the same as always; perfectly composed and untouchable, unflappable. Her companion was roughly the same height as Mallory remembered Lucius being – possibly an inch or so taller, at least three inches taller than Potter was. His attire was somber at best; dark suit, expensive and well made, shoes of similar ilk. Iron gray hair with a few chocolate brown streaks littered throughout was brushed away from his face, pulled into a short ponytail at the back of his head. He bore a long scar down the right side of his face, running from his temple down his face to bisect his cheekbone. According to his file, he had a total of three tattoos – one covering his back and two on either arm, exactly where the Dark Mark would be on an ex-Death Eater. He couldn't see either, but he did see his trademark ring, famously based on the Pillar of Heaven crest. One could possibly overlook the scar, the ring, the militant stance, even the mismatched eyes – one green, one brown – but it was impossible to look away once one met those eyes. He had the eyes of a snake, Mallory thought absently.
"Malachai Del Toro." The man offered his hand, and managed not to wince when icy skin touched his own. A whispery voice, at odds with his powerful build and aura, left his mouth.
"Auror Mallory. I understand you have a dilemma."
A/N: This isn't quite what I expected. However, I'm sick and in an emotional rut, so I was depending on Z to help me out with Troy and Elliot's date. I might just insert it later. After this, things should start moving much faster towards the end. Also, I said they had a week, and two of the days would be bait-y. Remember I am chronologically challenged; that time line may change. -beams- Review! I'm sorry this was so late.