September 18, 2000
Iris Apparated onto the street outside 12 Grimmauld Place unsurprised to find that the Fidelius Charm that hid the townhouse had been severed through entirely. The pulverizing force that had dismantled the charm had also blown the front door off its hinges—a gaping hole decorated with scorch marks left behind in its place.
Iris scanned the area for nearby Muggles before retrieving her wand from her trousers and then slowly drifted up the steps. As the entryway came into view, she was greeted with the sight of the front door blasted into two uneven, jagged pieces as if the wood had been struck by lightning.
A handprint imprinted with blood stood stark against the surface of the upper piece of the door and a chill ran down her spine as her eyes locked onto the trails of red that dripped onto the floor.
She stepped around the scattered splinters, steeling her senses against the remnants of Dark magic that electrified her nerves, forcing her eyes away from the handprint as she headed further down the entryway.
The townhouse was eerily quiet—the kind of quiet that caused her anxiety to race without abandon as her mind flooded with images of the Bogeyman waiting for her around the next corner.
She reached the railing of the staircase, lying her hands upon the metalwork delicately.
Her Auror training forced her to consider surveying the ground floor before trekking upstairs, but she'd hid Regulus' journal and the copy of The Little Prince under the floorboards of her bedroom.
If there was a chance the intruder had failed to locate her hiding spot, she had to take it.
She had only taken a few steps up the stairs when she felt the air shift around her, felt the hair rise on the back of her neck as an unknown pair of eyes bore into her back—she was being watched.
With her wand pointed outward defensively, she spun around and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"
"Flipendo!" Her opponent shouted.
A flurry of sparks were exchanged between the two wands.
The Knockback Jinx missed Iris by centimeters as she hurled her body out of its way and landed harshly on the stairs. The smoke created by the red sparks of the Disarming Charm cleared away and her opponent stepped forward, their still wand aimed at her.
"Dean?" She scoffed with disbelief.
"Iris?" Dean Thomas' eyes widened with bewilderment as he lowered his wand.
"What are you doing here?" She demanded as she scrambled to her feet, the thought occurring to her that the witch or wizard that had invaded her home could easily be another Ministry employee.
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion as she continued to point her wand at Dean.
"I'm with Harry." Dean held his hands up. "His wand went mental 'bout fifteen minutes ago, said something about how it was a signal that the Fidelius Charm on the townhouse was being tampered with."
"And where is Harry?"
"He's investigating the upstairs, he asked me to secure the ground floor and the basement." Dean hurriedly explained. "Nothing seemed out of place and I had only just come up from the basement when I heard you shuffling around."
He arched an eyebrow as he glanced at her black pumps. "Those aren't exactly suited for sneaking, you know."
She rolled her eyes. "Excuse me for not dressing for the occasion. If I had known my home was going to be broken into, I would've worn a pair of slippers instead."
"Iris?" Harry's voice carried from above. "Is that you?"
She leaned her head back to catch sight of Harry leaning over the railing of the third-floor landing, Nyx safely cuddled within his arms.
She felt an intense rush of guilt at the sight of her beloved cat, the thought of Nyx's safety having slipped her mind among the chaos. Graciously, the guilt was replaced with relief that she'd been unharmed and seemed pleased enough as Harry scratched behind her ears.
"Harry, are you alright?" She asked. "I assume the coast is clear if you're shouting."
"Yes, the coast is clear." He snorted. "How did you know to be here? I thought about sending you a Patronus but there wasn't enough time."
"That's a long story. How is it up there? Dean says everything's fine down here."
"You're going to want to see that for yourself." Harry warned and her hope that the intruder hadn't found Regulus' belongings deflated. "And Iris, lower your wand. Dean is here to help, he's not the enemy."
Iris narrowed her eyes at Harry before shoving her wand back into a pocket of her trousers.
"Dean Thomas helpful?" She mocked as she shifted her gaze back to Dean. "That'll be the day."
Dean's lips curled with disgust. "I could say the same about Iris Sinclair acting her age."
Iris' bit back the retort forming on her tongue as the familiar pop of Apparition from the outside rang through her ears, soon followed by the sound of footsteps rushing towards the townhouse.
Iris raced down the staircase and pushed Dean out of her way.
The daylight pouring through the cavity where the front door used to be darkened once Draco crossed the threshold with Blaise Zabini at his side, the lines of their mouths set determinedly as they pointed their wands outward.
Draco's chest visibly heaved with relief once his eyes spied Iris standing at the opposite end of the corridor, he and Blaise's muscular frames nearly encompassing the entryway as they strode towards her and Dean.
As they maneuvered around the shattered door, Blaise's gaze locked upon the handprint and he knelt, mumbling something to Draco before waving him off and focusing solely on the streaks of blood.
At Blaise's dismissal, Draco stormed towards Iris.
"What's going on down there?" Harry yelled from above. "Can the two of you even hear—"
Malfoy." Dean hissed. "What are you and Zabini doing here?"
"That's none of your fucking business, now, is it?" Draco snarled as he neared.
Dean glared at Draco as he threw an arm over Iris' shoulder and spun her around, putting his back to the other Auror. Draco's hands gripped her forearms and his fingers dug into her skin mercilessly, almost as if he feared she'd disappear if he didn't keep her rooted in place.
"Are you hurt?" He asked as his silver eyes raced up and down her body anxiously. He briefly removed his grasp on her to push away a bundle of curls, inspecting her face as he tucked the raven strands behind her ear. "Were they still here when you arrived? Did they find anything?"
His eyes locked onto hers, searching for answers, but she was left speechless at his blatant display of concern—the intensity within his stormy irises making it impossible for her to form a semblance of intelligent thought.
"I—I'm fine—I—I don't—"
A pop resounded throughout the entryway and Iris shrieked as Harry Apparated beside her.
"Harry!" She kicked his shin harshly. "You know I hate when you do that!"
Harry threw his hands exasperatedly. "Don't ignore me then! I wanted to see what all the commotion was about." He eyed Draco's hands on Iris' forearms and raised his eyebrows at the pair. "And now I see."
At Harry's observation, Draco removed his hands from Iris as if the very fabric of her blouse burned his skin. The concern evident upon his face soon replaced with the cold neutrality he'd mastered over the years.
It wasn't until that moment, until his hands left her body with such a horrified start, that the meaning of Draco's presence within the townhouse hit her, reminding her of the witch that she'd charged him to take care of.
"Draco, where's Mrs. Fawley?" She asked slowly, her tone threaded with suspicion.
"At St. Mungo's, as you requested."
She crossed her arms defiantly. "With such little time separating from when I last saw you until now, I know you don't expect me to believe that you were able to bring her to the hospital, have her treated by the Healers, and manage to grab Blaise before swinging by here."
"You're right, I don't, because I didn't do that." He answered matter-of-factly. "What I did do, however, was bring Mrs. Fawley to the hospital, drop her off in the waiting room, inform the Welcome Witch of her unfortunate condition, and race to the floor that Blaise is interning on."
"And then you left?" Her jaw went slack. "That is not what I asked you to do!"
"It is, more or less." He smirked. "Just with a few loopholes attached."
"And Blaise just so happened to be at the hospital? That's awfully convenient."
"Why?" He clenched his jaw, a tell of his growing irritation. "Are you finding it hard to believe that a friend of mine would want to commit their life to becoming a Healer? That a Slytherin would want to help instead of harm?"
"That is not what I said—" She began.
"Oi! Shut up the pair of you!" Blaise shouted as he stood upright. "Your squabbling is making it very difficult for me to come up with a gentle way of telling you lot that what you're dealing with here is, for a lack of a better term, bad fucking news."
Iris and Draco's lips shut abruptly.
"How bad?" Harry asked.
"Ancient blood magic, bad." Blaise answered as he used his wand to transfer drops of blood into a vial he'd conjured. "I've only seen it once before, one of my step-fathers was obsessed with studying the compositional differences between Pureblood and Muggle-Born antigens."
"Delightful." Iris frowned.
Blaise smiled at her sympathetically as he strode towards the rest of the group.
"But I'm by no means an expert on the subject so you're going to have to take this to the Curse-Breakers." He swished around the blood in the vial before handing it to Draco. "They should be able to tell you more."
Dean laughed mockingly. "You're not even an official Ministry employee. Why would we listen to one word you say?"
Draco's head shot towards Dean, a scowl plastered upon his face.
"One more fucking word, Thomas, and I swear—"
"Dean." Iris interrupted and Dean's eyes met hers. "Auror Gallows and Auror Windsor were the First Responding Aurors on the case I was assigned earlier today, and I have reason to believe they're suffering from the effects of the Imperius Curse. I need you to go back to the office and alert Robards, they must be found immediately."
Harry's eyes widened as this was the first he was hearing of what she'd encountered that day.
"But we're not done here?" Dean argued, his brow furrowed with frustration. "And who are you to give me orders? Send a Patronus, or, hell, send Malfoy! I was first on the scene here with Harry—"
"Dean, go." Harry interjected.
"You can't be serious—"
"I am very serious." Harry hissed. "Go or I'll report you for being insubordinate."
The hurt at being dismissed by one of his oldest friends twisted Dean's features, and surprisingly, Iris felt guilty for treating him so expendably.
With one last grumble, he Disapparated before their eyes.
"You have a lot to catch me up on." Harry sighed as he locked gazes with Iris. "But for now, you still need to head upstairs. There's worse to see and there's something I have to—"
Harry was interrupted yet again as another pop of Apparition could be heard from the outside, drawing everyone's attention to the empty doorway.
Ron Weasley bolted over the threshold seconds later, red hair sticking out at all angles, his navy-blue jumper twisted around his chest.
"What did I miss?!" He shouted. "Is everyone alright?!"
"Ron?" Iris' eyes widened. "How did you—"
"Mione's bracelet. The one you bought her for her birthday." He answered breathlessly. "Yours and Harry's charms went berserk, and she couldn't reach either of you on that tiny telephone of hers, so she tried the old rotary George keeps around at the shop."
"She's not coming, is she? Her trip with her parents—"
"Almost did but I talked her down. She's going to have words with the two of you though when she gets back." Ron looked pointedly at Harry and Iris before bending over and laying his hands on his knees. "Bloody hell I'm out of shape."
"Uh, Weasley, do you need a Stamina Charm?" Blaise asked, his eyes widened with worry as Ron continued to wheeze.
"No—I just—ran too fast—out of the Alley—" Ron dismissed him with a wave.
"Oh, for the love of Merlin." Harry groaned as he pushed back the bridge of his glasses. "Iris, you're coming with me. The rest of you, meet us on the third-floor when Ron learns how to breathe properly."
Before Iris could suggest taking the stairs, Harry intertwined his fingers with hers and the entryway spun around before her eyes as he Apparated the two of them upstairs to her bedroom.
Her bedroom had been destroyed.
Her duvet and pillows were haphazardly thrown around the room and her mattress was shredded to bits, the cushioning and springs revealed for all to see.
Her dresser and beside table had been emptied out, the drawers torn off the tracks and smashed into pieces. Her clothes had been ripped apart, turned inside out, and chucked every which way.
Her desk was flipped upside down, pools of ink trailing into the cracks of the hardwood floor. Pieces of glass from the picture frames that had once adorned the desk's surface glittered underneath the sunlight that radiated from the window.
Iris' heart sunk when she noticed that the floorboard near the fireplace had been torn up and the hollow area beneath it, the one that had once held Regulus' journal and the copy of the Little Prince, was notably empty.
"Damn it." She cried.
She slowly crossed the threshold, unknown objects crinkling underneath her heels.
"Whoever did this was long gone by the time Dean and I arrived." Harry explained remorsefully. "Your bedroom is the only one like this, they knew where to go to find what they were looking for. It's almost as if—"
"They'd been watching me." She finished his train of thought as she sunk onto the one spot of the mattress that had not been torn apart. "Viola Fawley in her cursed state said as much."
As her eyes continued to roam over the ruined inner workings of her bedroom, to suppress the sorrow that rose within her at so many of her treasured objects lying in destruction, she nearly laughed out loud at the thought of the horror that would cross Kreacher's face as he laid his eyes upon the wreckage.
Fuck. She thought.
Kreacher.
She hadn't seen him once since she'd returned home.
"Harry?" Iris shifted her gaze to his. "Where's Kreacher?"
Sorrow filled Harry's emerald orbs and she expected his answer before it left his lips.
"He's gone."
Panic knocked the air from her lungs.
"Gone? No. That doesn't make any sense." She refuted. "Call for him, he'll come. He always does."
"Iris, I've tried, multiple times while I was searching the upstairs, but—" Harry sighed. "He never shows."
Iris' eyes welled with tears.
And as the hurried sound of Draco, Blaise, and Ron's footsteps up the stairs neared, she smacked a hand over her mouth to prevent the sob rising within her throat.
Draco paced in front of the study fireplace, his eyes flicking to Iris every so often as she sipped on glass of scotch, sandwiched between Harry and Ron on the sofa. After she'd fully recounted the events of her and Draco's altercation at Mrs. Fawley's, the boys were hesitant to be even an inch away from her.
"Whoever dismantled the Fidelius Charm had to have known of its existence beforehand, what if it was someone at the Ministry?" Blaise ruminated; his long legs swung over the side of the armchair he lounged within.
"It's possible." Harry rubbed his jaw. "But even after breaking through the Fidelius Charm, they would've needed to get through the protective charms Orion Black spent his life perfecting upon the entry. To get through all of that without severely harming oneself—"
"They would need to have Black blood." Draco finished Harry's thought. "Direct, not from decades ago."
"Which could explain Kreacher's disappearance." Ron theorized. "If it was a Black family member, he could've left willingly."
At the mention of Kreacher, Iris downed more of the scotch in her glass.
Kreacher's absence was a hole in her heart, a hole that she'd caused with her meddling.
"So, what are we saying? Because there are only three people that fit that profile with Draco out of the running." Iris spoke up. "A two-year-old, the two-year old's grandmother, and—"
"My mother." Draco said with a slight distaste.
"Mummy up to her old tricks again, Malfoy?" Ron sneered.
Draco ignored Ron, but Iris elbowed the redhead sharply for the jest.
"Doubtful." Blaise pondered. "Narcissa would never leave such a mess behind, not her style."
Harry snorted softly from beside Iris.
"Either way, despite what Draco and I may or may not find out at Hogwarts, I think a visit to Malfoy Manor has become long overdue." She groaned. "Draco, I'll leave the arrangements for that up to you?"
Draco's eyes met hers once his name left her lips and she felt her heart flip inside of her chest. His cheeks were rosy from being so near the fire, his hair ruffled from the constant activity of the day. His lids were heavy with exhaustion or boredom, she wasn't sure which, but the way his dark lashes kissed his cheekbones melted her willpower all the same.
After a moment of consideration, Draco nodded agreeably at her request and halted his pacing, shifting his eyes to the flames roaring near his feet as he leaned against the fireplace.
The reality of visiting Malfoy Manor had yet to hit Iris as she downed the last of her scotch. All she could manage to focus on was the way her body had begun to uncomfortably warm from the alcohol swirling within her veins and from being sat so close to Harry and Ron.
She laid the empty glass next to her wand on the coffee table and then gathered her hair, lifting her curls off her skin and relishing the brief rush of air that followed.
As she did so, she felt another pair of eyes on her, and her gaze shifted towards Blaise. His brow furrowed as he stared at her, his eyes widening before he glanced away and stood abruptly from the armchair, striding to Draco's side.
Iris observed as he whispered into Draco's ear, causing his eyes to dart towards Iris.
Strangely, Draco's eyes widened just as Blaise's did moments before.
He cleared his throat loudly before he said, "Iris, can I speak to you privately? Outside?"
"Why?" She asked as she released her curls.
"What for?" Harry interrogated.
"No." Ron insisted.
Draco's nostrils flared with annoyance and, to prevent a war of insults fueled by testosterone, Iris stood from the sofa and beckoned Draco to follow her out into the corridor, assuring Harry and Ron that she'd be right back as she did so.
Iris stood with her arms crossed as Draco leaned against the doorframe, his lips curling amusingly as the study door shut softly behind him.
"What is it?" She asked a bit peeved.
"Your neck." He pointed out. "Specifically, the hickeys I left a few nights ago that just reappeared on your skin."
Iris gasped loudly as she smacked her hand over the bruises.
Time had slipped through her fingers throughout the day, causing her to forget about the time-sensitive Disillusionment Charm she was using to hide the nearly healed bruises from Draco along her neck.
"Did Harry or Ron notice?"
Draco shook his head. "No, only Blaise."
"Great." She grumbled. "Can you reapply the charm? I left my wand on the coffee table."
He snorted. "You trust me not to curse you? Dare I call that growth?"
She leveled her gaze at him. "Draco, just do it."
"As you wish." He grinned, bowing dramatically before retrieving his wand from inside his sleeve.
Iris reluctantly lifted her hand off her neck and Draco's wand began tracing a path from one bruise to the next as he mumbled the incantation for the Disillusionment Charm under his breath. The pressure of his wand against her skin felt oddly intoxicating as his proximity increased inched by inched.
Her throat tightened once his wand left her neck, a part of her wishing for it to return.
"Thank you." She exhaled.
He nodded and she noticed the way his hand shook ever so slightly as he slipped his wand back inside the sleeve of his sweater.
When his eyes returned to hers, his grey orbs were nearly encompassed by his pupils.
"We should head back—"
"Iris."
The sound of her name on his lips set her afire, each and every time.
"Yes?"
"I'm only going to say this once, so I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?" He arched an eyebrow. "Will that stubborn mind of yours permit me to speak without interruption for once?"
She narrowed her eyes, wishing to form a response to the insult threaded through his request, but the importance of what he needed to say next was evident from the twist of his facial features to his rigid posture.
So, instead of firing back, Iris resigned.
"I can." She said softly.
He sighed contently and laid a hand on her hip, curling his fingers into the belt loop of her trousers and pulling her closer. She gasped as their chests slammed into one another and he reached up with his other hand to cup her cheek delicately.
She didn't try to push him away, instead, she welcomed the sensation of his bare skin against hers, the sensation of his thumb tracing circles upon the apple of her cheek.
"Never, and I mean never again, force me to stand idly by while you throw yourself into danger." He began, his breath hot on her face. "I will not only disobey you entirely, but I will also sacrifice the well-being of any that cross my path, will forgo any semblance of sanity I have left, to keep you safe. You were lucky today, you won't always be, but I will be there when your luck runs out."
She shut her eyes, not wanting to witness the raw emotion within his.
"You shouldn't say things like that."
"Open your eyes." He demanded, the strain of his voice reminiscent of pain or sorrow.
She opened her eyes reluctantly, her heart aching as hazel clashed with silver once more.
"Do you understand what I'm saying?" His thumb pressed into her jaw deeply. "Iris, I need you to say that you understand. I don't care if you agree, but I need you to accept my selfish nature. Accept and understand, I beg you."
"I—" She stuttered, her heart pounding so loud she was sure he could hear it.
He was selfish, but so was she.
Selfish enough to lie to settle his soul.
"I understand."