The Basket Case
by Stray
3. April 2006
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters and make no money off of it. I'm not sure I would even if I owned them.
Warnings: This is my first HP fanfic that you got to see. I'm not a native English speaker, but I try. And this is going to contain SLASH! If you don't like it, you can still read it if you harbour masochistic tendencies. Flames are used to warm my cold little heart. Constructive criticism is appreciated.
Beta-ed by: Kathleen and Vaughn.
8 ·m 8 ·m 8 ·m 8 ·m 8 ·m 8 ·m 8
Chapter Twenty-six
"I have to go."
Snape regarded Draco with a strange look and a lifted brow when he suddenly pressed up from his sitting position beside the table, the chair's legs screeching from the force with which he had pushed them back. But since his plate was empty sans some crumbles, which showed that he was done eating, he didn't object.
"Where to?" Snape asked after some hesitation.
He preferred to keep out of Draco's business, but as long as he lived under his roof, he still considered Draco his charge. His concern was overbearing in a way only something forced could seem to. Snape watched over him like a sentinel. Draco felt as if he was back to eleven and attending Hogwarts again.
"Haven't you read the Prophet this morning?" He answered with another question, his irritation showing through it.
"Yes I have." To top it all, Snape had the gall to remain perfectly unruffled. "My condolences, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco's eyes widened. What did Snape mean by condolences?
"You're saying it as if… as if it meant nothing!"
Snape remained silent and waiting, obviously not willing to go along with what he called Draco's childish behaviour. Draco felt offended by that simplification of the facts. He wasn't acting childish – he was with child. There was a difference.
He sighed and stopped pacing in the living room. He didn't look at Snape when he answered, knowing that seeing him so calm would only serve to pour fuel onto the fire, so he fixed his gaze on the view outside of the window. The eerie silence of the snow-covered hills helped to still his nerves.
"Agnus has been murdered," he said. He found that saying it out loud and trying to think of a logical way out of the situation helped to even out the tremors of anxiety in his voice. "I have to get to his place. He wrote me a letter saying he found something, but not what it was. I have to find it before Cyrus remembers to retrieve the documents Agnus had been working on."
Snape didn't answer. When Draco turned to look at him, he seemed to be conflicted by warring thoughts, probably about whether or not he should let Draco go on his own.
"Do you think you'll be able to get anything? I'm sure the place must be crawling with Aurors. They have most likely turned over everything and already confiscated those documents as potential evidence. I doubt you would be welcome to poke your nose into their investigation."
"If you're trying to appeal to my logical mind, it's not working," Draco commented dryly, heading towards his room to dress into something more tasteful and respectful than the loose, comfortable robes he had become used to wearing in the house.
"When has it ever?" He heard Snape muttering before he closed the door to his room. His keeper must have decided Draco would be fine, after all.
An hour later found him in the Floo foyer of the Malfoy & Sons Lawyers' Office. Obviously, the name hadn't been changed when 'sons' was replaced by 'sons-in-law' in the last generation, or probably even before that. It was tradition to take on the name of one's wife when marrying into a prosperous family business. Perhaps Agnus hadn't been a genuine Malfoy either, Draco mused. His unconventional views rather supported that hypothesis… He shook his head and clamped down on his errant thoughts instead of allowing them free reign. He had business to take care of.
After a few minutes of waiting, he was greeted by an irritated man wearing grey formal robes. He looked immaculate in every aspect, which made Draco suspect he was one of Agnus' sons-in-law.
"What can I do for you?" he asked tersely. Draco could hear the noises of people moving around in the house behind his back.
"I am Draco Malfoy," he introduced himself. But if he expected the man to show humility at hearing his surname, the casual lift of one brow, which said 'couldn't have guessed', belied that expectation.
"First, let me express my condolences for the death of your father-in-law," Draco said, abruptly realising how inadequate and inconsiderate his words may have seemed for what had happened. The man didn't need to be reminded of his loss by every stranger the first thing he met them, but propriety demanded he do so. He was surprised when the man didn't even bat an eye. Either he had heard this so many times already that he couldn't be bothered by it anymore, or he hadn't been that close to Agnus.
"I have come because Agnus was working on my case. He wrote me that he had found something essential, presumably just the day before he was killed. I would like to look through his files and notes concerning the case."
Draco tried not to show just how important this was for him. He didn't want to seem like he was begging, hanging on the last straw. If this family was similar to his own in anything other but the name, doing that would have only earned him contempt and not a way inside.
"Certainly. My house seems to have become the gathering place for vultures, anyhow." The man opposite him sneered, which prompted Draco to square his shoulders in outrage.
Before he could say something though, the man continued. "Oh, I didn't mean you, of course. But why not investigate yourself? My late father-in-law's office is a bit crowded right now, you must understand. I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't find what you're looking for in that mess."
"Thank you." Draco found it hard to say those words through gritted teeth. "I won't bother you long, Mr… sorry, I didn't get your name." He matched his act to his opposite's mock-politeness perfectly. Acting was like a second nature for him, he just wasn't accustomed to using it against people who should have been on his side.
"James Butler-Malfoy at your service." Draco thought he sounded like a sulking servant who had just been reprimanded by his master for being rude to the guests. His ancestors might have been in service, perhaps even to the Malfoys. The man was nothing more than an upstart would-be aristocrat. Now Draco came to doubt he was even a pure-blood.
"Was anyone before me asking for those documents?" He tossed the question at the man as he stepped around him, employing every bit of his well-educated pure-blood poise to show him his place.
"You mean, besides the entire Auror Headquarters? Your cousin, Cyrus, had already been here," answered the malicious voice from behind his back. Draco tried not to flinch at the bad news.
"Had Agnus perhaps left something for me then?"
"Nothing that I know of," his host said as they stopped before an ornate door to the left.
"We are here. Good luck finding what you're seeking, Mr. Malfoy." And with that, he was left to his own devices.
Draco opened the door with a determination not to let himself go down before he tried everything within his abilities. He stumbled into resistance right upon wanting to enter the room though, in the form of a junior Auror standing there and blocking the entrance.
"I'm sorry, sir, but you can't go in there. The room is under quarantine until the investigation is closed," the Auror told him in a no-nonsense manner.
Draco knew better than to stop and try arguing with him. He was only a little wheel in the clockwork.
"I have to speak with the leading officer of this investigation, please. Mr. Malfoy was working on my case when he was killed, you see."
"One moment, sir." The Auror nodded, a bit too quickly, recognising that he had a potential witness before him. Not that Draco planned to divulge anything, mind you. He kept back the smirk that threatened to show on his face.
"If you would wait here until I return with him."
Draco nodded, and watched the Auror disappear within the crowd inhabiting the study - Agnus' son-in-law hadn't been exaggerating when he insinuated the number of them. They had already made a mess of the room. Stacks of parchments were lying on every bit of horizontal surface; all of the books had been pulled down from the shelves and heaped up in one corner; the carpets had been laid rolled up along the walls; the vases had been emptied and most likely upturned for anything hidden in them - even the paintings had been removed from the walls, on the off chance they had been hiding a safe or such. Draco felt the urge to laugh at that – not that it would have been a particularly cheerful laugh – but when he saw the officer heading back, he bit the insides of his mouth and kept his expression neutral.
Unfortunately, his efforts seemed to have gone wasted when he found himself face to face with the leader of the investigation.
"You!" He couldn't restrain his minute reaction at the sight of Auror Schwiegerfrei sauntering towards him, with a nasty smile plastered on his face.
"Mr. Malfoy." Schwiegerfrei mock-bowed towards Draco, blatantly eyeing his middle section while he was at it, making the skin on Draco's back crawl with uneasiness. He could barely restrain himself from curling a protective arm around his stomach. There was a glint in Schwiegerfrei's eyes upon seeing his reaction, which he blatantly exploited, and then he turned towards the junior Auror to tell him to resume his post while he led Draco to an unoccupied corner of the study.
He should have known - that was Draco's first thought after he regained his control over his emotions. Schwiegerfrei didn't even try to act as if he wasn't enjoying the situation, or to seem even vaguely helpful. Draco wondered for a second whether Cyrus had a hand in his assignation to the case, or was it just a lucky turn of events for him. And then the thought occurred to him that perhaps Cyrus had something to do with Agnus' death as well, in which case Schwiegerfrei was most likely here to hinder the investigation.
Under the appearance of arguing and trying to wring some kind of permission to read through the documents scattered about in the room from Schwiegerfrei, Draco had a good look at the 'investigation' that was conducted under his nose. It seemed more like a Mafia search than an official routine operation to secure the scene. Stray parchments thrown everywhere, discarded cigarette butts in the elegant crystal platters, a heavy chair deposited on top of the antique inlaid writing desk without a care that it might damage the delicate wood… Draco didn't want to believe his eyes when he saw one of the Aurors picking up a golden paperweight the size of his fist and, after weighing it, pocketing it in plain view of anyone who cared to watch. Not that anyone apart from Draco did.
That was the last straw. He couldn't just stand there and observe how the ancient and noble Malfoy family was laid in ruins and the wreck of it picked apart by an uncaring and undeserving mob. He closed his eyes and counted to five before opening them again.
"Thank you for your help, Auror Schwiegerfrei," he sneered at the man standing before him, with little effect, while his eyes were surreptitiously following the Auror from before on his way out of the room.
"No problem." Schwiegerfrei had the nerve to grin at him, clearly feeling to have come out on top this time.
Draco nodded absently, having already half-turned away from him, and headed towards the door.
There was no one in the foyer, but Draco saw the front door swinging closed just as he exited Agnus' study. He took off on a run after the thieving Auror to be able to catch him before he Apparated away, for that must have been his intention if he had bypassed the Floo. He started breathing hard even after the first few feet, but there was nothing that could have halted him by then.
"Stop right there!" Draco shouted upon sighting his target. He didn't care if he looked undignified running after the man like a wronged stall-keeper. Actually, he thought it would do him good to work off the pent up frustration of both the last half hour and the previous weeks, and vent his rage on a convenient object.
The Auror looked back above his shoulder and, instead of running from him or Apparating away, he seemed to be waiting for him, as Draco had ordered. That threw Draco off a bit, but not enough to end his momentum.
When there were just a few feet remaining between them, the man waved his wand in front of him, and Draco's first thought was that he was casting a Shield Charm. The air began to shimmer around him, and the shimmering only stopped after Draco got a hold on the front of his robes in order to shake him until he confessed every one of his sins and coughed up what he had stolen.
In the next moment, Potter's familiar face emerged from behind a Notice-Me-Not Charm.
Draco let go of him with an irritated huff.
"That trick again, Potter? It's getting old."
"Perhaps." Potter had the gall to laugh at him. "But this time it wasn't for your benefit."
So that's why no one cared for him in there, Draco suddenly realised. By the way…
"I didn't think you'd resort to stealing. I thought it was your Weasel friend who needed the money desperately."
"Do you mean this?" Potter reached into his pocket and pulled out the paperweight, throwing it up into the air with the same fluid movement and catching it again, as if it was an overweight Snitch.
"Yes. Exactly that," Draco sniffled.
"Relax, Malfoy. I've stolen it for you," he stated, as if it had been a perfectly normal thing to do.
But before Draco was able to get out an answer, Potter put it back into his robe pocket and, with his other hand, he reached for Draco's arm.
"You don't want to be seen with me, again. We better take it to another place."
Draco had barely enough time to nod in agreement when he felt the earth being pulled out from below his feet. When they touched down again, he glared at Potter and clutched his belly. He had felt for an instant as if two big fingers had just pinched him around the middle to squeeze his child out of him. It had scared him, even if he knew that it was only an impression generated by the Side-Along Apparation.
"Oh. Sorry." Potter seemed apologetic while keeping him upright. "Should have remembered. I hope you won't throw up," he mumbled.
"Thanks for your concern, Potter," Draco sneered and twisted out of the firm grip Potter had on his waist. "Where are we?"
"My flat." Potter grimaced. "What remains of it."
Draco looked around, noticing the state of destruction everywhere. The flat looked as if a battle had been recently fought in it: the furniture was battered, missing large chunks at places, as if they had been hit with an Exploding Hex, but the holes were most likely caused by overdue Howlers. The scraps blasted off them were spread out evenly on the singed carpet, together with the broken corpses of a few gifts and bits of red envelope looking disturbingly like dried blood scattered about everywhere.
Draco didn't recognise the room they had Apparated into. There was a small, child-sized bunk pushed to the wall, which indicated that this must have been the room where Pinky had been staying last time.
"Stay here," Potter told him. "I'll check if the coast is clear." And he did.
Draco Vanished the debris from the bed and sat down waiting for Potter to return, and for his head to stop spinning. After a few minutes, both did.
"Looks like you've already made yourself comfortable." Potter seemed amused by that. "This room seems to be in the best condition, anyhow. The only one in which the window is still unbroken."
"So, Potter, are you going to explain me why you felt the need to steal that little souvenir - for me?"
"Sure."
Potter sat down next to him and held out the paperweight on his palm in front of Draco. He used his other hand to point his wand at it, and after a few seconds of avid concentration, the vaguely egg-shaped bulk began to get flatter and squarer. The golden glint faded and the uniform colour separated into a darker and a lighter one, until one became the colour of egg-shell and the other that of indigo. In the end, the object in Potter's hand settled into the form of a stack of parchments with messy, curling writing on it.
"Here." Potter pushed it between Draco's hands. "Said it was for you."
Draco leafed through the stack. He recognised Agnus' handwriting, and after the first few lines, it was apparent that the notes were just what he had gone to Agnus' house for. How did Potter know?
"I think you'd better get back to Snape's." The voice of Potter jolted him out of his perusal of the documents.
Draco nodded shakily. This was it! There was the clue somewhere among those lines. But did he have enough time to find it? The parchments weren't ordered, as if they had been put together in haste. Some of them upturned, some of them another size altogether. There was even a Muggle paper of some kind of cigarette package between them with a few jotted down words scribbled down on its clear side.
"You're right. I have to go now." Draco stood up with renewed determination, his mind already on his goal. If he wasn't capable of going through it himself, he would ask Snape for help, or…
"Potter, do you have something important to do right now?"
"No. Nothing. Why?"
Snape greeted Draco with an arched brow when he saw Potter emerging from behind his back as they stepped through the doorframe leading to the living room. It was a rare occasion that he would be found sitting there, reading the Prophet for all appearances - in the middle of the day. Had he been waiting for Draco to come back?
The Potions Master cast one glance at Potter, and then he stood up without a word and left through the door leading into his lab. When he returned, he had a bottle in hand, which he gave Potter. He gulped it down mechanically. Draco realised at once the reason of his less than steady knees and the occasional loss of his balance, when the white noise in his head receded almost instantly.
"You were leaking again," he admonished Potter with disgust written all over his face.
Potter shrugged.
"How do you think I was able to find this?" He nodded towards the stack of parchments in Draco's hand.
Draco stared at them for a few seconds and then shrugged. It was high time to start with the research.
For hours they sat in silence, in a half-circle around the dining table. The parchments were divided into three stacks between them. They swapped them when they had finished with one.
Snape began to sort through his stack, trying to put it into some semblance of order, placing parchments that seemed to be about the same topic together. When that didn't work, he tried to order them based on their size, which he gave up fairly quickly, and with an annoyed huff and a shake of his head, he just started reading the topmost one.
Draco went through his share of the notes franticly, often having to re-read sentences or whole paragraphs after realising that his eyes just skipped over them while he was attempting to make sense of something he had read previously. His mind became tired of trying to complete abbreviations never before seen, make sense of lists that lacked any title and seemed like expressions thrown together at random. He usually enjoyed crosswords, but that was when he wanted to have some creative fun and not when he was struggling to save his future.
The only one being silent was Potter. He sat by his own stack with a crease of concentration between his brows, reading away. When he was through his own stack, he made two even piles out of it and deposited each of them in front of Draco and Snape respectively. Having done that, he grabbed the heaps they had put aside and pulled them over to continue reading. He repeated the process one more time. He had already finished the whole stack while Draco and Snape were still in the middle of reading.
Draco quirked a brow at Potter when, looking up, he spotted him staring at the wall again. He had been doing it for the last ten minutes. Potter must have sensed his gaze on him, because he blinked and his eyes focussed on Draco.
"What's on your mind, Potter?" Draco blurted out the question, trying to mask his sudden discomfort that had nothing to do with the current subject of his worries and more with the unflinching stare directed at him.
"I'm getting hungry," was Potter's answer.
Draco rolled his eyes. He had no idea why he had thought Potter could be of any use to him.
"I could do with some food as well," Snape murmured without looking up. Potter nodded.
Bloody hell! At this rate he could have asked Crabbe and Goyle for help, Draco thought with despair. Except that Crabbe was in Azkaban and Goyle most likely in a place with palm trees, sandy beaches and girls dressed in not much more than floral garlands.
"I don't like Chinese, so either Thai or Italian." Potter stood up from the table, pulling his coat over his shoulders.
"How about lasagne?"
"Would you please stop this nonsense?" Draco shouted when he couldn't stand listening to the conversation in silence anymore. "We are in the middle of a serious matter, if you haven't noticed yet! We can't waste time with…" But then a loud rumble coming from his own stomach interrupted his tirade.
He hated the knowing smile Potter gave him in return.
"I'll be right back," the speccy git said, turning his back to them and leaving through the door. After a few minutes, Draco heard the sound of someone Apparating.
He was so immersed in his reading that he had completely forgotten about Potter. He didn't even hear him coming back. He only looked up when a steaming plate of mouth-watering pasta in some reddish sauce was pushed under his elbow. He murmured a 'thanks' and began to eat without really paying attention to what he was doing, except the writing in his hand. When his fork clinked on an empty plate, someone put another helping on it, and he continued eating automatically, until he finished the last line and realised that he had already put away a second portion as well. He stopped mid-chewing and looked up with a blush to see Potter and Snape observing him with amused interest. He chose not to comment on it.
Snape levitated the dirty utensils into the kitchen and summoned some wine for himself and Potter. Draco got a glass of water, which he regarded with a scowl. As soon as he touched it, though, it turned into a mug of cocoa. He hadn't known that he wanted to drink cocoa, but he wasn't entirely unhappy with the outcome.
"Has anyone found anything to go by?" Snape asked after a sip from his glass.
Draco looked at him with a glare and was about to snap at him that no, he hadn't, and obviously Snape hadn't either, or else he wouldn't be asking this question. Potter, though, proved to be the quicker one again.
"I think I may have," he said, contemplating.
Draco turned his head towards him so quickly that he wouldn't have been surprised if he had broken a vertebra in the process.
Thank Merlin, Potter wasn't one to mince his words, he got right to the task of finding the part in question, and after leafing through the stack, he pulled out an old and yellowed autographed photograph of Gilderoy Lockhart. There was only one sentence written on the back, together with the page number and paragraph where it could be found. Apparently, it was copied verbatim from the original Malfoy code: the ominous last will.
Draco read the line - it wasn't even a whole sentence - once and then a second time with ever growing dread. He threw the photo down when his hands started shaking too badly.
"This?" he asked incredulously. Potter nodded, and Draco couldn't see any hint in his expression that this was somehow a capital joke at his cost, and that there would be something else - something real… But Potter's gaze was unwavering. Meanwhile, Snape had read it as well, and started nodding, contemplating.
Draco shook his head. Were they both completely out of their minds? Or Agnus for that matter… What had he been thinking?
"This is never going to work!" he said with a lump in his throat.
Now he was finished, for real.
TBC