A/N: As always, beta credits to callieskye. And a quick note of acknowledgement to all my readers who motivated/reviewed when this story was first posted. Thank you!

Edited
Chapter 6: Saving a Monster

"Are you absolutely sure you were not ordered to open the gate last month, Tinky?" Draco asked the battered old elf, enunciating each word clearly. "Perhaps Thomas needed something? Or Burke Senior asked you to-"

"NO! NO!" squeaked the elf, nodding his large head vigorously while his ears flapped and bulging eyes depicted his absolute mortification.

"Master always staying inside for four days, Sir!" he croaked like a bullfrog. "Master is saying to Tinky to keep the gate locked for those four days every month, and Tinky is doing it that month too. Tinky not opening the gate, Sir!"

"So how did he escape this time?" he asked almost to himself.

Draco was not new to the rules of elf enslavement. Burke Senior had specifically asked Tinky to answer honestly, cutting off the chances of the elf lying to protect his master. There was a possibility that the elf had been hoodwinked to believe he never received instructions to cooperate with the Ministry, but
Draco's instincts told him that the Burkes wouldn't do such a thing.

Or perhaps it was his own hopeful longing, maybe he saw himself in that boy... although, it was always possible that his instincts were absolutely wrong…

Instinct, fucking instinct was the reason he was in this godforsaken settlement in the heart of the country in the first place. Instinct and guilt.

"Are there any other possible exits from the chamber?" he inquired but already knew the answer, he'd checked the heavily padded room himself. Additionally, the Aurors had done a thorough search, the results of which lay in a bunch of scrolls on his desk. Aurors, fuck...

"No, Sir! Room only having one door, which Tinky is closing after young Master is going in two days before full moon. Master is coming out only two days after the full moon is going. 'To be safe', Master is always saying," he recited for the tenth time and Draco let out a soft groan of frustration.

The same testimony, not a word different- he had heard it from the crippled father, the old house elf and the broken shell of the boy the Aurors had dragged to Azkaban a few days ago. Fucking Aurors… he hated those… or one particularly famous Auror to be more specific…

"Sir?" croaked the elf breaking his musings and Draco straightened up in his chair, running his fingers through his hair and rubbing his tired eyes with the back of his knuckles.

Concentrate, he told knew he was missing something but had no clue what it could be.

For the past few days, he had turned the old mansion upside down, searching for signs of foul play. He had ventured into the Muggle village in search of any information they might have missed, but everything led to a dead end.

"Is Sir wanting some tea?" the elf inquired; he shook his head in negative.

"No, thank you, Tinky. You've been very helpful," he replied kindly, smiling at the ancient-looking creature. "I'll be in my room. Please inform me when Burke Senior wakes, will you?"

He did not miss the happy gleam in those large eyes; the house-elves were not used to words like 'thank you' and 'please'. His younger self would have scoffed in disgust. But he wasn't his younger self anymore, someone special had seen to that.

The elf bowed as he left his chair, and Draco walked up the long corridor leading to the staircase; the carpet muffling the sound of his footsteps making the silence of the mansion more pronounced.

Back in his room, he dropped his robe and collapsed into the chair at his desk. Wasting no time, he recorded every bit of information he had collected, which he thought morosely, was barely anything at all, and certainly nothing actually helpful...

Closing his eyes, he leant back. He had nothing to help him defend Thomas Burke; nothing to prove his innocence. And yet, he couldn't forget the vision of the broken man he had seen tied up like an animal in Azkaban a week back. Thomas was a kid, a couple of years younger to him in fact.

His boss had called it a 'Lost case', and if he was honest with himself, that's exactly what it was.

"This Ministry might be more tolerant towards all magic life forms, Draco, but I highly doubt you'll be able to get a pardon statement for a werewolf attack. And that too, on a Muggle girl, no less. Almost risked the Statute of Secrecy there! No chance I tell you."

Draco had to admit, the wizened old man didn't mince words.

And Hermione had said the same.

"I am proud you are taking on this case, Draco. You know, I believe everyone should get a fair trial. But this... I mean... I don't how you'll defend this one," she said as she read the case papers again. "It required an intensive memory modification operation on a number of witnesses to cover up the actual reason for the poor girl's death. The jury won't go easy on this," Hermione concluded with a sigh as she pushed aside the stack of evidence that had come in from the Law Enforcement Team.

His perpetually calm veneer fell and he snapped in reply, "I know that! Tell me something I don't know, something that will help instead, will you?"

As he watched shock and hurt flashed in her eyes, guilt overtook his rage. Guilt and fear... He covered the distance between them in two swift strides and captured her hands in his. Damnit, he hadn't meant to yell. He needed to control himself around her... always.

"I... I'm sorry, Hermione..." he managed, unable to frame a sentence that wouldn't sound like he was begging. But he knew he would beg if it came to that. He knew it was sheer luck that Hermione was in his life, and his luck was rotten in everything else apart from this tiny ray of hope.

"I am sorry", he muttered, watching her hands in his, gripping hers just a little harder, "It's just that…", he stumbled over his words, "I feel so guilty."

"Guilty?" He noted the surprise in her voice.

"Yes, guilty," he let go of her hands and moved away to stand near the window. The scenery outside was an illusion, just like all the windows in the ministry, and yet, he relished the cool breeze that wafted in.

"Thomas Burke is a couple of years younger than us, Hermione. Was in Slytherin too. He is an only child, heir to the Burke estate. His mother died during childbirth, his father never remarried. Pureblood, elite family," he scoffed bitterly. "Just the kind who were targeted during his reign to provide followers."

He heard her draw in a sharp breath but continued.

"He wanted Burke Senior to join his ranks, but Burke refused. Not all pureblood families are the same, you know. He wasn't happy. Didn't kill them right away though, where would the fun in that be?" he added bitterly, "Set Bellatrix and Greyback on them instead. By the light of the full moon... Not to kill, mind you, that would have spoiled the fun."

He met her eyes, hoping she saw a bit of the darkness that he felt constricting his chest. Just a bit though, Draco feared that Hermione would leave him if she knew the horrors he had been a silent witness to.

He looked away and continued in an almost emotionless voice, he had learned well how to mask the darkness inside.

"Bellatrix tortured the father, crippling him for life and then Greyback bit the fourteen-year-old boy as the helpless father watched." Draco could almost see the scene unfold although he wasn't present the day it had happened. One more vision to add to his nightmares; one more horror, to add to the list of hundreds.

He turned to face her finally, prepared to see repulsion in her eyes. She would see the heartless monster he was destined to become. And then, she would hate him too. He would be destined to live his miserable life alone once again.

Her eyes brimmed with tears and she bit her quivering lower lip. He wanted nothing more than to wrap himself around her, but he refrained because he knew he was tainted, and she was so pure, he would soil her with his touch...

"Why didn't you tell them, the Wizengamot, about the Burkes... during ...your trial?"

"I only just found out. I didn't know about them back then. It happened at their home."

"Draco," she called softly and took in a deep breath. Maybe she didn't hate him yet. "What if they are lying?" she asked softly and he forced himself to avoid snapping at her again. He knew she was just being her logical self, but her mistrust touched a raw nerve.

"I saw the memories," he replied as casually as he could manage.

"Why didn't they come forward after the war?"

"Oh, come on Hermione! The boy was turned into a werewolf! Coming out in the open would have guaranteed him a place in a cage or worse!"

She nodded grimly and flipped through the thick pad of parchments again.

"Surely something can be done. He hasn't bitten anyone in seven years. Why did he attack now?" Draco knew she was thinking aloud, but suddenly something clicked.

"Yes! You are absolutely right!" he beamed.

"He didn't, did he? But how?" he wondered aloud, "Surely he had been changing all these years! There must be something more, I'll need to speak to the father again and see if I can find out," he grinned.

There was hope after all; for Burke and for himself.

At least he had found some answers, he reflected. It turned out that the son, with the guidance of his ailing father, had converted a room into a sanctum for himself. He would enter it a day prior to the full moon and stay locked inside until a couple of days after. It had huge silver doors and was locked by their house elf from the outside. The room was further charmed to prevent the sounds of his screams from being heard as he transformed. The precautions had worked for seven years. He was still no closer to discovering how he'd escaped.

Cases like these were the casualties of the evil reign that had marked the three worst years of his life. And even after seven long years, when the memories of horror had slowly begun to fade, some long forgotten pieces of darkness trickled into their lives unexpectedly and made his life a living hell once again. Draco always had a nagging fear that there were more such skeletons lying hidden. No one knew the actual extent of the Dark Lord's network.

He rubbed his strained eyes with the back of his palm. He ached to go back to his flat, ached to see Hermione, to capture her lips with his. This whole case was bringing back memories of his past and he yearned for the normalcy that her presence brought to his life.

He allowed his thoughts to linger on her; he needed that relief.

What would she be doing? Surely she'd be at work, she hardly ever took leave. He wondered if they could both take some days off and go on a short holiday. She needed a break and so did he.

Somewhere abroad, perhaps? Some place where no one would recognise them. Hell, he'd go to a Muggle town, if need be. At least they'd be able to spend some time together outside the confines of their offices and flats. Someplace where they could lie on the beach to soak up the sun and walk hand in hand while watching the sunset.

He could easily imagine his life with her; maybe it was the time they came out in the open about their relationship...

Although he hadn't confessed to her yet, he often imagined her walking down the aisle towards him in a bridal gown. She would make a stunning bride, he thought with a longing smile.

He couldn't imagine a great many people at their wedding. Hopefully, her parents, his mother and some of her friends would attend it? In all honesty, he didn't really think many would turn up to be a witness to their wedding vows. Potter was amicable nowadays, but how much he or for that matter, anyone from the Weasleys would support her in this decision was doubtful.

He certainly did not wish to have his Father at the ceremony; the greater the distance between Lucius and Hermione, the better it was for all of them. The old man could still have plenty of evil tricks up his sleeves. As it was, Malfoy Senior was enraged when Draco moved out of the Manor and chose to live in a Muggle neighbourhood. Having a Muggleborn daughter-in-law would do nothing to pacify him. At least, he was under house arrest for the rest of his life. All Draco needed to do was to keep Hermione away from the Manor.

He surveyed his parchment-littered desk with tired eyes. The wild assortment of books, legal documents, and evidence materials looked back at him but he had no clue what could help him save the poor guy from spending a lifetime in Azkaban.

He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Thomas was a victim for fuck sake!

And yet, Draco knew the Wizengamot would not pardon him just on the grounds of his unfortunate transformation. He would still be locked away on murder charges. The prosecution would hammer on about how he was a danger to society, Muggle and Magical alike.

He had had an awfully early start to the day, not to mention very little sleep the night before. He rubbed his weary eyes again. He had to crack this case somehow; he knew very well what it felt like to be forced to be evil, forced to be a murderer.

Realising that his tired brain needed a rest, he picked himself up and went in for a shower. He could do with a nap. Half an hour later, he collapsed on the bed, having forgotten completely about the scroll that the elf had handed him- the letter had been delivered by a tawny owl while he was away in the village the previous evening.

…..

The scene at the Burrow was utter chaos when Harry arrived.

"Ron's missing," Ginny told him, grim fear marking her pretty features. "You don't reckon he left again, do ya?" she asked in a quieter whisper after glancing at her mother.

Molly, Harry noticed, was sitting at the table, dabbing her apron to her eyes. He noticed Hermione bring the Weasley matriarch a steaming cup and pull a chair next to her. She met his eyes but looked away just as quickly.

"Couldn't have," he told his fiancee who he knew was desperately trying to keep the panic out of her voice.

"Where's George?" he asked and the man materialised in the centre of the tiny living room almost as if on cue. A moment later, a dishevelled Mr. Weasley walked in through the door and Molly was out of her chair in a flash.

"Did you find him, Arthur?" she asked urgently through her tears, and the old man gave a stiff shake of his head while his wife let out a small wail.

"George?" inquired Ginny and George mirrored his father's action. Molly let out a sob and would have collapsed if Hermione hadn't grabbed the woman right away and gently guided her to a chair, muttering something Harry couldn't hear.

Something wasn't right. Harry watched his curly haired best friend but she didn't meet his eyes, her composure bothered him. Only she seemed to be totally in control, and if he was honest, a tad bit annoyed as well.

Alright, she could be still pissed at Ron but why so indifferent about his disappearance?

"He's nowhere on the property, or in the village," provided Arthur with a small sigh as he took a chair next to his wife and placed a hand on her back. Molly sobbed harder.

"He's not on Diagon Alley or in the Leaky," fumed George, "That git, bloody…"

"Did ya check Hogsmeade?" interjected Harry, his brain busy processing further options. He pushed aside the steadily rising panic and forced himself to think like an Auror. Ron was still on leave. He wasn't supposed to be on any missions yet.

"Hogsmeade? Why would he-"

"We gotta check, don't we, Gin?" he interrupted before facing the elderly couple. "I'm sure he just needed to be outside for a bit or something," he said with more conviction than he felt.

"George, could you check around Hogsmeade? I'll cover the Ministry," he added quickly, cutting off Ginny's further arguments. George disappeared with a loud crack, and just before doing the same, he caught Hermione's eyes. It appeared as if she was on the verge of saying something, but then she turned and walked towards the counter to fetch another cup for Arthur. When she made no attempt to talk to him, he Disapparated, his feeling of unease growing stronger by the minute.

He arrived back precisely ten minutes later. George had already returned and was pacing furiously in the small space between the table and the kitchen counter. Harry didn't need to be told that Ron hadn't been found.

"I swear I'll hex him into oblivion once he's back!" barked George and he faintly registered Ginny adding something to it but his brain was working furiously. He glanced at Hermione again; she was obviously avoiding him. Why?

"The flat!" he exclaimed suddenly. Yes, of course! Why hadn't he thought of it earlier?!

"What?" asked Mr. Weasley but he saw realisation dawn on Ginny and George's faces.

"I'll be back!" he yelled before Disapparating again.

A/N: Thanks for reading. A review will be highly appreciated. Apologies in advance, but please refrain from reading the next chapter which is yet to be edited.