Chapter 1: Bad Days

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any part, the characters and the HP universe all still belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. Last I checked. * sighs in disappointment *

A/N: So I was working on this piece for a fest I'm not able to take part in anymore, but I decided to post it anyway. I have a couple of chapters written up and I'll be working on it when I need a break from SASC. It's a Dramione, murder mystery type story with an Auror Hermione and Healer Draco. I hope you all enjoy it!

"What time will you be done with the client do you think?"

He drank in the sight of his beautiful wife as she bounced their one-year old son on her hip, whipping up pancakes for his older twin daughters, all the while managing to keep up a conversation and looking damn good doing it. He could barely keep the three kids from destroying the manor when he was left to look after them, never mind doing anything else. She was his fucking hero, and he felt lucky to have his family every minute of every day. After everything he had done, Merlin knew that he didn't deserve them.

"Not too late, I should be done by five" He felt a stab of guilt at the lie as he ran a hand through his smooth chestnut locks, but kept his face firmly in check. I'm doing this for them, he reminded himself for what must have been the thousandth time that day.

"Okay that's great. Well I've got to drop the kids off at Mum's and then I'm off to check on the shop for a few hours, but be home at five thirty sharp, I'm making your favourite for tea!"

"Wonderful, you are far too good to me you know" He stood up as he said this, making his way over to the love of his life. He gathered her up into his arms and pressed a tender, lingering kiss to her lips, his eyes fluttering closed as he tried to sear their shape and feel onto his memory. He then gently stroked his sons dark hair, so like his own, and planted a small kiss to his forehead.

"I know, you're so lucky to have me" she teased as she pulled away, dopey grin across her face.

I am, I'm so sorry, I love you, forgive me. He didn't voice these thoughts, but instead flashed her a warm smile as he turned to his girls.

"Astrid, Aurelia, come give Dad a hug eh?" He felt his heart break as the two toddlers came running towards him as fast as their chubby little legs could carry them, identical strawberry blonde curls bouncing as they went. He scooped them up, one in each arm, taking a deep breath as they each threw their arms around his neck and giggled.

"Okay you two, be good for Nana, and look after your brother, he's only little so it's your job to keep him out of trouble."

"We can do it Daddy" said Astrid with a confident nod of her head, her tone as solemn as any four-year old could muster. Aurelia, ever the quiet one, just nodded and smiled sweetly as she snuggled further into his shoulder.

"I know you can, my clever girls." He placed them back down and watched wistfully as they ran back over to their small table at the other side of the kitchen where their favourite blueberry pancakes waited for them.

"Sweetheart? Hadn't you better be going before you're late?"

"Yeah. I best be off." He hoped that she hadn't heard the wobble in his voice as he swallowed down the hard lump in his throat.

He took one last look at his wife's cheery wave, his sons happy babble and the sticky, syrup covered faces of his daughters as they blew him a kiss, before he sharply turned and walked away.

He turned down the corridor that lead away from the kitchen and towards the large study that contained his private floo, polished shoes clicking mockingly at him as he went. He noted the luxury that surrounded him with disinterest. Although he loved this room, with its warm wooden fixtures and its plushy green armchair and its veritable mountain of books, he wouldn't miss it even a fraction as much as he would the four people he had just left behind him. With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, he grabbed the suitcase he had stashed behind the largest bookcase a week before, walked towards the fireplace and disappeared in a flash of green flames.

~.~.~

Draco Malfoy was having a bad day. Not just bad in fact, but a supremely awful, headache inducing, horrible day.

First he had woken up late, in his freezing cold and painfully empty bedroom, with the mother of all hangovers and a strange redhead in his bed.

Fucking Zabini. Let's go to a muggle club, he said, it'll be a right laugh, he said. Bastard. Muggle liquor, as it turned out, was much stronger than its magical counterpart. Bloody brilliant selection though.

.Tap

"What the fuck! Is that an owl at your window? Carrying a letter?"

Oh good, the muggle is awake, he thought snarkily.

"Don't worry about it love. Listen erm...?" He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he walked over to the window to retrieve the owl and stop it's incessant tapping. He couldn't believe he'd brought a woman back to his flat, shagged her, and now he couldn't remember her name. Well, he couldn't believe he'd done it again. Especially when he had promised himself after last time that it would be the very last one.

"Lisa" The girl supplied happily, thankfully not offended by his lapse in memory.

"Right, Lisa. Well I don't know if I said last night, but I have to work today and-"

"No worries Drake" He cringed at the crude muggle name, watching as she jumped up out of bed, clearly not shy about her nakedness. "I have an early lecture anyway. Thanks for the shag, it was fun, I'll leave you my number on the side table in case you ever want to do it again sometime."

Maybe I will, He smirked to himself, previous promise instantly forgotten as he surreptitiously eyed her perky breasts and toned stomach as she pulled on her jeans. He was impressed that she didn't seem to want to hang around and swap life stories like they usually did. He always felt like such a prick when he had to show them out, but he wasn't about to leave any misconceptions that their dalliance would be anything more than a one night affair. This one seemed just as keen to move on with her life as he was, and the sex was more than decent from what he remembered. Very... enthusiastic.

Yes, he may very well give Lisa the Muggle a call sometime soon. He chuckled internally at the thought, his father would be rolling over in his grave if he knew. Possessing a muggle mobile phone in the first place would be more than enough to disown him, but using said phone to arrange premarital sex with a muggle girl? A hanging offence, surely.

Cheered by the thought, he waved Lisa off with a smile and proceeded to rush through his morning ablutions, as he was now forty five minutes behind schedule, and the chances of him making his first appointment on time were slim to none. After applying a quick but careful drying charm to his hair and donning his least favourite grey suit - he really had to remind Romilda to pick up his dry cleaning today - he grabbed a strong black coffee in a to-go mug, downed a headache relief potion and stuffed the letter he had received into his pocket to read when he had time.

A quick Tempus charm confirmed that by some miracle he had five minutes to spare until his first client showed up. With a sigh of relief, he turned on one heel, apparating into his office with a soft popping sound. He had always loved his office. It was bright and airy; all white walls except the one opposite the door which was floor to ceiling windows. His desk, made of solid, sturdy oak wood, was large enough to spread out five or six tomes at a time. His desk chair was a soft grey wingback, with wheels for manoeuvrability, the seat opposite him was in a similar style, only smaller and without the added wheels. Behind him sat an entire wall of bookshelves done in the same style as the desk, and there were cheerful green plants dotted throughout the large space courtesy of his assistant Romilda.

The best part of the office though, was the larger seating area just a ways down from his desk, closer to the window. This was his favourite place because this is where he got to do the job that he loved. He got to heal people, to help them work through their issues and eventually learn how to heal themselves. People had been shocked when he'd chosen to specialise in Mind Healing after he had gotten his original Healer's qualifications, but this is where he'd always known he wanted to be. After all the money his mother had dropped on Mind Healers for him after the war, Merlin knows he was something of an expert before he ever started the training.

Draco,

How you feeling? Muggle booze is the devil, my mouth tastes like something shit in it, and I'm half convinced there's a yeti dancing on my head! Great night yeah?

Oh, and I saw you leave with that redhead last night you little tart. Nice one.

Love and Kisses,

Dead Man Walking (A.K.A Blaise Zabini, love of your life)

Draco snorted loudly, used to the antics of his best friend but amused by them nonetheless. He folded up the letter before tapping his wand to the arm of his chair, letting Romy know that he was ready for his first client of the day. That's when everything had truly gone tits up; his first client accidentally spilled his still boiling hot coffee into his lap while reaching for a tissue while his second client wasn't in a talkative mood and decided to make his displeasure known by throwing a tooth growing hex at his head. To put the cherry on top of an already spectacular day, he found out that one of his long term clients had been admitted to St. Mungo's for a seemingly deliberate potions overdose. It felt like every time he made progress with this girl, she would go and do something to prove him wrong. But he would persevere, as long as she kept showing up and doing the work then so would he.

By the time eight o'clock rolled around, the last of Draco's long term clients had been dealt with and sent home. He was tense and angry, and frankly could do with some stress relief. Grabbing his coat as he headed towards the floo, too wound up to apparate, he was thinking about calling Lisa-the-muggle for another round when all of a sudden green flames shot up, and a familiar face greeted him from the fireplace.

"Tracey? What's wrong?"

"Draco, have you seen Theo today?" He frowned in concern at her tone, her usually cheerful voice laced with tension and, if he were reading her correctly, panic.

"No, sorry I haven't seen him since we had lunch on Monday. Why, what's going on?"

"He was supposed to be at work until five but I floo-called his office and they said he never made it in, and he's still not back. Theo's missing"

His stomach collapsed. There had been too many disappearances lately, and not enough of them were turning back up. His bad day had just gotten infinitely worse.

"Okay, we'll figure this out," he assured her, sounding far more confident than he felt, "Step back I'm coming through"

~,~,~

"-told you Malfoy, there's not enough to go on!"

"Bullshit, Potter! I know Theo, he wouldn't just walk out on his family! Something isn't right here. What about the others? Flint and-"

"We're looking into those disappearances, but they're not the same! I'm telling you Malfoy, for the millionth fucking time, all of the evidence points to Nott leaving of his own accord."

"It's been three months! If he left on his own, why isn't he back yet?"

Hermione sighed in annoyance as she heard the raised voices on the other side of the office door as she approached. Honestly, hadn't they ever heard of silencing charms? She hoped Harry hadn't asked her to his office just to listen to another one of his lovers spats with Malfoy, because the entire DMLE were getting sick of hearing them by now.

She raised one calloused hand to knock on the heavy door twice before turning the handle and strolling in. The scene she found was almost comical. Almost. The clear look of anguish on Malfoy's face stopped any thoughts of laughter before they could even begin. Both men were standing virtually toe to toe, Harry's face bright red with anger, chest heaving. Malfoy on the other hand just looked deranged, emerald green tie hanging loose, strands of uncharacteristically messy hair falling into his face, dark circles under his eyes clearly illustrating that he was having trouble sleeping.

"Oh for God's sake, I thought I left this shite behind when we left Hogwarts!" Hermione huffed, startling the two men who had clearly been too engrossed in their staring contest to hear her knocking.

Harry had the good sense to look sheepish, offering her an apologetic smile which she accepted with a small one of her own. After so many years of friendship they hardly needed words to communicate. Malfoy, on the other hand, just stared at her stupidly.

"What?" she snapped, not in to mood to try to interpret the inner workings of Draco Malfoy.

"Your clothes," he blurted out loudly, eyes widening slightly as if he had no control over the words that came tumbling out of his mouth, "I mean, they're not, I-I mean … Merlin Granger."

"I was in the field Malfoy!" she snapped defensively, gesturing emphatically towards her Auror grade leathers, "Not a fucking fashion show. What did you expect, a pretty pink dress?"

It was true, after the war the old red robes for Senior Aurors were discarded in favour of more practical protective gear, now only to be brought out for ceremonial purposes. Better late than never, she supposed. Unlike before though, there was no specific uniform for field work, as long as the dragon hide was Auror grade and kept you fully covered, you could wear what you liked. Only Junior Aurors and trainees still had to wear the old uniform so that they could easily be identified by the public. The new freedom of choice had made for some extremely strange sartorial selections amongst the Senior Auror ranks..

Hermione though, had taken the practical approach as always. Her leathers were all-black, the jacket, leggings and knee high combat boots all made from the hide of a Hungarian Horntail. The boots contained a hidden compartment where she kept a spare knife in case she ever found herself wandless. Her left pocket had a handy, only slightly illegal Undetectable Extension Charm placed on it, and she had all manner of emergency supplies stashed inside, never wanting to be caught unprepared again like she had that year on the run. She wore her wand strapped to her right forearm, ready to be drawn in an instant, and lastly she wore a second knife strapped to her left thigh. Her hair was always tied up in tight braids to keep it out of reach whenever she was in the field.

She knew that with all of this, combined with the thin scar that ran straight from her ear to her chin, she cut an intimidating figure. She wasn't single for the good of her health after all. She knew that the men she worked with were especially terrified of her and her reputation. Oh well, she always told herself, Fuck them, I don't want a man who scares so easily anyway. Her mother had suggested that perhaps she should try softening up a bit, but Hermione had just scoffed, it would be a cold day in hell before she diminished herself for any man.

Despite all of this, Hermione knew that she looked damn good in her leathers. She filled them in all the right places, leggings clinging to toned thighs like a second skin, and just as comfortable. She knew that she looked good, so why was she letting Malfoy piss her off and put her on the defensive?

"No that's not what I meant." He coughed to clear his throat, shifting uncomfortably as he appeared to be fighting to regain his composure after his earlier outburst. "I only meant that I've never seen you in your field outfit before. You look good, Granger." This last was said with his signature smirk fully in place as he ran his eyes over her figure in an exaggerated manner. Clearly he had recovered from his previous state of embarrassment.

She snorted, of course he would try to make her uncomfortable now. Well it wouldn't work, she had been one of the only two female Aurors in the corps for seven years. She was practically immune to male posturing and pigheadedness.

"Yeah? Well you look like shit Malfoy. Go home and get some sleep, so the rest of us can get back to doing our jobs" She said this calmly, arms folded over her chest as she ran her eyes over him in return, look of distaste clear upon her face.

She watched in satisfaction as the smirk dropped from his face, tips of his ears turning red with anger, jaw clenched tightly in irritation.

"You're a bitch Granger, no wonder you're still single. Even the weasel couldn't deal with it."

Harry looked outraged on her behalf, and opened his mouth to defend her before he was stopped in his tracks by the sound of Hermione's deep belly laugh.

"Good one Malfoy. Heard from Astoria lately? God, you must be worse than you say I am. At least I never managed to run anyone out of the country."

She noticed the slight swallow and downturn of his mouth as her words hit, and felt a twinge of guilt. She had heard from Daphne, the other female Auror, that he had taken the breakup pretty hard. She wondered if she had gone too far, letting her mouth run away from her again.

"At least I had a fiancée to run off, which is more than can be said for you. Tell me, did you cry when the weasel broke it off?"

No, definitely not too far. Arsehole. Unbothered by his comments, but unwilling to let him have the last word, she opened her mouth to respond before Harry finally stepped in.

"That's enough. Malfoy, get out of my office. I'll let you know if I hear anything, I promise. Hermione, you stay."

Malfoy looked like he was considering arguing some more, but eventually offered the other man a stiff nod before marching out of the office, rage visible in every movement.

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration as he sat down behind his desk, motioning for Hermione to sit in the comfortable purple chair on the opposite side.

"So much for leaving it all behind at school" he quipped with a raise of his eyebrow. Hermione flushed with embarrassment. It was true. Not five minutes earlier she had berated them for engaging in school yard squabbling, and then immediately proceeded to do exactly the same thing.

"Sorry. I didn't expect him to get under my skin like that," she conceded with a grimace, "I think that's the first full conversation I've had with the man since his trial." It definitely was; despite running in similar circles, their vastly different careers and general dislike for one another had meant that they hadn't had much cause to interact over the years.

"Well, I can't say it went well" Harry commented, trying to look stern despite the grin threatening to take over his features.

"No, I'd think not" she agreed with a laugh. This was one of the reasons she loved her job, the opportunity to work with her best friend and the small moments of camaraderie they shared. It would never have felt right to be too far away from him after spending so much time together during the war. It wasn't her primary reason for becoming an Auror, but it was definitely a significant perk.

"Anyway, I didn't call you in here to watch you tear Malfoy to shreds, as amusing as it was." He flashed her an amused smile as he spoke.

"Oh really? Then why did you call my in here boss?" She watched Harry redden at this. Only six months into his role as Head Auror he was uncomfortable with his newfound authority, and Hermione loved to poke fun at him for it. She found his aversion to leadership both endearing and ridiculous. The man was a natural born leader, and had taken to the job with little difficulty, despite having a six month old James at home to keep him busy at the time.

The smile dropped from his face and his tone turned serious as he answered. "Listen, we're trying to keep it quiet, but Malfoy's right. Not about Nott, but about the rest of it. Something is definitely going on. You know about the Flint and Pucey cases, yeah?"

"Yes, of course. Both just up and vanished without a trace? No belongings missing from either home or work, no activity on their Gringotts accounts. Also no signs of a struggle in either case, both believed to have disappeared from their places of business, two months apart. Suspected abduction, but no evidence to back it up?"

"You've done your research. Why am I not surprised?" he gave a low, humourless laugh as he reached into his desk drawer to grab a thick file stamped with the official seal of the DMLE.

"You know I love a good mystery," she shot back with a grin, "If I wasn't working the raids in Manchester at the time I would've tried to wangle my way onto the case."

"Well, you've got it." Harry said with a straight face. "And we got another one last night, and no-one else assigned to the case has managed to dig up a single lead. I really need your help 'Mione. There's already been chatter that the department isn't trying as hard as they should to find these guys because they're former Slytherins."

"That's ridiculous. Half of our ranks are bloody Slytherins. Not to mention the Head of the Department." John Dawlish had taken the reigns of the DMLE after the war, much to the approval of both the general public and the Auror corps. He was a hard bastard, a seasoned Auror with over twenty years behind him, but clever as you like, and his understanding of the politics and inner workings involved in the role was unmatched. It was easy to see why the hat had sorted him into Slytherin.

"I know that Hermione, but you know what the public are like. And the fucking Prophet doesn't help matters any." He scowled at the mention of the accursed publication.

"Up to their usual journalistic standards then?" Hermione quipped.

"Didn't you see it last week?" He asked incredulously.

"Of course not. You know I don't read that pile of mush. It's not even worth using as lining for Artemis' cage." Artemis was a beautiful eagle owl Hermione had gifted herself four years ago when she had qualified as a Senior Auror.

Harry snorted at this "Right. How could I forget? Well anyway, now Cassius Warrington has gone missing and his wife is kicking up a stink and I really need you on this. The last thing we need are accusations of discrimination. Especially after the York incident."

Ah, the York incident. What a shit-show. The incident that had made the department look like a bunch of incompetent thugs and ultimately cost Ron his career.

"Fucking Ron. You can't just go around beating up suspects. Especially when they turn out to be innocent." Brian York had been the Slytherin son of a former Death Eater suspected of a string of robberies of apothecaries, mostly because of his role as night courier which made him the only person to have access to all of the crime scenes.

The reason it had been such a big case for the DMLE was because of the type of potions that had been stolen; Petrification Potion, nutrient potions, blood replenishers, and various rare ingredients that could be used for any number of hallucinogenic poisons. Not exactly an everyday combination. They were the type of potions typically recovered in human trafficking cases, and so they had put every effort into finding the perpetrator of the robberies so that they could lean on him to get to his superiors.

Brian had been their prime suspect, so they had assigned two Junior Aurors to bring him in for questioning, Ron and his partner Sam Lawson. When they had dragged him in he had been beaten within an inch of his life. With his orbital bone shattered, four broken ribs and a punctured lung, Ron's claims that he had 'resisted' didn't hold much water. To top it all off, it turned out that Brian had been with a Knockturn Alley girl on the night of two of the robberies. Once the press had caught wind of the situation, there was no saving Ron's career. He had been lucky to get away with a slap on the wrist and mandatory therapy rather than prison time. Regardless of that fact, Harry had been devastated to have to fire his best friend and brother-in-law one month into his new job.

Truthfully, Ron had never been a great Auror. He was too angry, too damaged by the war. Getting sacked might have been the best thing ever to have happened to him. In the five months since he had started seeing a Mind Healer and working in the shop with George he had slowly started to transform into himself again. Nowadays, she was able to catch glimpses of the boy who had once been her best friend emerge from behind the cloud of pain that had surrounded him for years. It was a good thing, but didn't change the fact that the publicity had blown their entire case, and there hadn't been any new leads since.

"I know," Harry agreed, "But he's trying. And he is doing better Hermione." He said this last part softly, with a hint of a question.

"I know he is, and I'm happy for him." she said earnestly, before fixing a look of cold determination onto her face. "But hear me now Harry Potter. I will never want Ron back, no matter how many apology letters or lingering looks he sends my way. I forgive him, and he'll always be my friend. But that's it. If that's not enough for him, then we'll be nothing at all. And you can tell him that the next time he sends you around to put a good word in."

Harry sighed sadly, but he could see that she was serious by the set of her jaw and the determined glare she sent his way. "Fine, I'll tell him. I just want you to be happy."

"Well I am happy. I have a job that I love and am successful at. I have a lovely flat and a massively fat tabby cat to cuddle at night. I have lots of friends and a very full life, one that doesn't rely on Ron or anyone else to make it that way." She finished her rant with a firm nod. She usually adored Harry for the way he constantly fussed over her like an interfering aunt, but she needed him to understand this. She could not be dragged into any more Ron drama, she'd had more than enough to last a lifetime.

"Okay, no more interfering in your love life, I get it!" Harry insisted with a smile, although they both knew damn well that was a lie. The day Harry stopped poking his nose where it didn't belong would be the day that he died.

"Thank you, I appreciate that. Anyway, getting back on topic. I'll take the case, but I want to bring Greengrass in as well, you know she's good with stuff like this, and she was in Slytherin so she knows these guys, she might have some insight."

"Sure. Whatever you need, just keep me updated." Harry looked relieved as he handed over the file and stood up to dismiss her.

Hermione took the file and crossed the office, turning the handle to open the door only to find herself face to face once again with Draco Malfoy. She was about to start giving him what for about coming back so soon after she specifically told him to go home and get some sleep, but something in his expression stopped her again. The usually cold grey eyes were wide and glazed with panic, his face a sickly grey and his hands shaking as he clutched a piece of parchment so tightly in his left hand that it was starting to crumple.

Instead of shouting, she silently ushered him into the office with a gentle press of her hand to his back. She got him to sit down in the chair she had previously occupied, and immediately set about fixing him a cup of sweet, strong tea laced liberally with calming draught from her own personal supply. She could recognise a panic attack when she saw one, and even if she hadn't had one of her own in over a year she still always made sure to have the little purple vial on hand should she need it.

Once she had managed to get him to drink half of the tea, his shakes had started to subside, and the foggy panic seemed to have cleared from his gaze. Harry watched on over all of this with concern, fetching the tea set as instructed by Hermione and generally hovering unhelpfully.

"Okay Malfoy," she started gently, not wanting to startle him back into a panic, "What's happened that's got you in such a state."

Her voice, mixed with the potion seemed to do the trick and he finally managed to answer. "Marcus. Marcus Flint, that is. He's... Well I'm not sure, but I was sent this. Here. I don't know if this is for real, or, or..."

Hermione took the now severely wrinkled parchment from his hand and read the letter, feeling a sense of growing concern with every line. "Malfoy, where did you get this?"

"It was on my desk."

"At your office?" Harry asked sharply, noting the ambiguity in his answer.

He seemed hesitant but finally answered. "...No, it was on my desk at home"

"Okay, well this might be nothing," Hermione said, not believing her own words even as she said them, "But we should send a couple of officers over there to give it the once over just in case."

"Fine." He replied tersely, clearly unhappy but understanding the necessity of the action.

"But Granger..." he seemed hesitant again, but pushed ahead, setting down his now empty cup before continuing. "I don't think this is nothing, There's a…. picture. It came with the letter." He placed a hand in his left pocket, before producing a small muggle polaroid photo.

"Fuck." Hermione swore, trying to fight the bile as she took in the sight. She handed the note and the photo over to Harry, who immediately went chalk white.

It was a photo of an extremely emaciated, obviously beaten and tortured Marcus Flint, only recognisable by the large tattoo of a collection of roses and thorny vines snaking around his right side. He was also clearly deceased, his sunken eyes dull and unseeing even in the photograph, with the word Whore carved in large capital letters across his chest.

Hermione felt dread pool in her stomach as she read the letter again.

Doc,

I didn't mean to kill him, but I'm not sorry that he's dead. I was trying to teach him, to show him what he was. He was a filthy, disgusting animal, and he needed to learn. I tried and tried and tried, but he couldn't see. How am I supposed to get closure when I can't make them see? How can I make amends when they refuse? I can't heal myself the way you said I can if I can't make them pay. But I'm trying I promise. Once they all see what they are I'll stop I swear. I'm sorry that it has to be this way, but you understand don't you doc? I know you do. You're the only one who ever understood.

I'll be in touch again soon.

All my love,

Tisiphone

A/N: Of we go! Let me know what you guys think. Thanks so much for reading,

Til next time,

SJ