AN: I have nothing better to do than to write, write and write. Happy now?

Disclaimer: Same as before.

Dedicated to: No one right now.

Chapter 8: Each Man

Each man kills the thing he loves.

- Shakespeare

*** June 11, 2010 ***

"You do realize, that if Draco was ever found guilty, you would be the one to turn him in?" Mad-eye stared at her, unblinking. She swallowed softly. "But I could never do that…" Moody frowned. "I expected more from you. The appeal states, in a legal manner, that the closest member of the family must turn him in."

The woman in the shadows fidgeted. "What about his mother?" Moody shook his grizzled head. "Locked herself up in the Manor. And do you think Narcissa's going to do that?" An angry sob emanated from the half-dark of Moody's office. "I can't! And who says we aren't going to win this case?"

Moody sighed gruffly. "There's too much evidence against him… all these signed accounts, pictures! There are pictures!" He pushed a stack of wizard photographs across the desk, and the woman picked them up with a trembling hand. "No… no! He could never have done these! This… this is so horrible."

"You don't have proof that he didn't do all this… and the evidence against him is much too strong."

"What about the Dark artifacts?"

"We haven't checked into that yet…" Moody admitted. The woman stood up. "I'll go and get a permit from Harry, and I'll be at the Manor later today." She turned to leave, but then, stopped. "Moody, there's no way in hell I'll ever be the one to hand over my own husband to the dementors."

And Hermione walked out of the office, tears on her face, but cold resolve in her heart.

~*~

Harry looked up at her expectantly. "Hello. Come to shout at me again?" Hermione glared at him and held out her hand. "The permit? I asked you to get it ready for me weeks ago!" Harry shrugged. "This paperwork is rather hard to manage… but I guess you Physicals wouldn't know that."

(Physicals were what they called the working Aurors in the paperwork side of the building.)

Hermione frowned. "What's wrong with you, Harry?" He stared up at her from his seat behind the cluttered desk. "What do you mean by that?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Do you know it's extremely rude to answer a question with another question?" Harry thought for a moment, then grinned. "You just did." he pointed out, smiling.

Hermione blinked, then smiled grimly. "Sure. Where's the permit?" Harry handed a scroll to her, along with another, smaller scroll. "What's this?"

Harry shrugged dismissively. "The charges against Draco."

~*~

Hermione walked towards the restaurant where she always met Draco for lunch, the scrolls safe in her charmed bag, and thinking distractedly about how different Harry was when he smiled… it was as if the real Harry, the one she hadn't seen for months, would break out from behind a mask and shine for her…

She was pulled out of her reverie by a commotion just outside the same restaurant she was going to enter. Hermione stepped back, surprised by the size of the yelling, jeering, gossiping crowd. She frowned. As an Auror… she had a responsibility to control this crowd. Pulling out her wand, she conjured several harmless firecracker bangs that silenced and got the attention of the crowd.

The turned to face her, and whispers began to buzz through them once more. "What's happening here?" she demanded, hands on her slim hips. Silence, then one impudent teenage witch stepped forward. "Your husband's a criminal!" she announced smugly, and the crowd behind her murmured their nasty approval.

Hermione glared at her. "Innocent until proven guilty. And nothing's been proven yet, so you can just put down your torches and stop mobbing us!"

The crowd, which had been whispering even more, suddenly parted, and the whispers grew into an angry buzzing.

Draco himself stepped out from between the glaring townspeople, looking around him mildly. "What's wrong?" he asked Hermione, who was standing quite near him by then. The same teenage witch retorted "You! You're all wrong!" Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Is this about Skeeter's article?" The murmuring grew louder, but no one answered his question.

Hermione sighed angrily. "Come on, let's eat." She took Draco's arm and pulled him inside the restaurant.

~*~

Over two plates of roast beef and mashed potatoes, Hermione dropped the bomb.

"I'm going over to the Manor later."

Draco looked up, surprised. "Really? But all my clothes and my books… they're all in the apartment… I don't have anything in there anymore." Hermione sighed. "That's what I'm going to prove to the Ministry."

Draco stared at her. "What?" Hermione chose not to reply, instead, she handed him the scroll. Draco's silvery eyes narrowed again. "A permit to search the Manor?" He glared at her. "Oh, so you're suspecting me too?" Hermione's eyes widened. "No, no! I want to be the one to prove that you don't own any Dark artifacts… thus voiding one of the most grievous charges against you!" She pulled out the smaller scroll. "See? The highest one on this list is use of two of the Unforgivables.'" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"The second one is 'possession of dangerous Dark artifacts.' This is the one I plan to void, that's why I'm searching the Manor later." She tucked the scrolls away, after reinforcing the Protection Charms on them. Draco looked at her. "Are you forgetting something, Hermione?"

She looked up from her peas. "What do you mean?" Draco leaned forward. "I do have Dark artifacts in the Manor… my father's." he hissed. Hermione squinted, thinking. "Your father… didn't he mark all of his things? I remember, once, back in sixth year, you sneaked a book out of his personal library to lend me, and it had this big black stamp on the front page… with a Latin inscription and Dark symbols all around it." Draco shrugged. "So?"

Hermione smiled at him. "To prove that the Dark objects are really yours, you must have your seal on them. What does your seal look like?" Draco blinked, then pulled out his wand. He Transfigured the nearest paper napkin into a short scroll, and then traced a silver shape onto the parchment.

Under his wand, the Draco seal took place. Hermione sucked in her breath. It was a beautiful thing, sinister, but beautiful all the same.

Draco tucked his wand back into his pocket. "There. Given to me at thirteen, and given up at twenty-four." Hermione shot him a strange look, but kept the scroll in her bag nonetheless. Draco picked up a forkful of mashed potatoes and began to eat, slowly and neatly. Hermione watched him expectantly.

"Well?"

"What else do you want, Hermione?"

"Tell me about the Manor."

Draco put down his fork, frowning slightly. "My father would never forgive me." "Your father's dead." Hermione replied brusquely. Draco looked at her as if he had never quite seen anyone like her. "Yes.. I believe he is." he replied slowly.

"Well… he always kept his biggest collection under the drawing-room. It's guarded by a painting and a few hexes that will slice you into bits if you don't know the counterspell. It's Lucet." he added helpfully. Hermione had taken out her Dictation Quill, had Draco lick the end, and set it to paper, where it dutifully took down everything he said, but without mangling or corrupting his sentences. (Like Rita Skeeter's had, many years ago.)

"There are a few more relics in his private den, and in his bedroom." Draco grinned. "I believe you may find some rather nasty elf-skins there." Hermione winced. "House-elf skins." Draco added with relish. She waved at him to continue, and he did. "Mother has some poisons in the cellar, but don't touch those. They aren't extremely potent… she uses them for unwanted late-night visitors. A simple sprinkling of belladonna and witch hazel in their coffee and… wham!" He grinned at her, she grimaced back.

"The real poisons are in the armory, behind the largest suit of armor. The one with the dragon on its shield, mind you. The password is Esconcious. There's a pretty good collection back there, enough to make any shopkeeper in Knockturn Alley turn green with envy. Evil books? The hidden library. Password is Erudition. Hmm… the Hand of Glory is on his bedside table…" Hermione shuddered. "…unless Mother moved it. She could never stand to look at that thing."

"Charmed and hexed objects in the display room. Evil jewels in the secret chamber behind the display room. Creatunesions in the hidden cellar in the floor of the dungeons… password is Corruption."

Hermione held up a hand. "What are creatunesions?" Draco shrugged matter-of-factly. "Creatures he created himself. Corrupted house-elves, defiled werewolves, beaten and tamed manticores, disjeweled fire-crabs… very dangerous down there. Charm yourself against fire and bodily injury." Hermione swallowed. "Disjeweled fire-crabs?" Draco glanced at her. "Fire-crabs that have stripped of their jeweled shells. They become shriveled and bloodthirsty…"

He glanced at the Soul-Keeper, watching it turn a rusty purple. "Hermione… why don't you request for companion Aurors while you search the Manor? It could take all day, and… well," He placed a protective hand over hers. "It's dangerous." Hermione swallowed her fear, and smiled bravely up at him, her eyes glittering brown. The Soul-Keeper faded into an intense golden-red, signifying bravery.

"Draco… they didn't put me in Gryffindor for nothing."

~*~

The minute Hermione touched the heavy brass knocker on the front door, the bracelet on her wrist began to heat up. She glanced down at it, and removed it, thinking This house if so full of Dark Magic, my wrist will probably be blistered and burnt by the end of this raid. The door creaked open, and she found herself face to face with a tall ghost dressed in a very antique butler's uniform. "Yes, Madam? What may this humble servant of the esteemed Malfoy family do for you this evening?"

Hermione sniffed. Esteemed? Sure… Out loud, however… "Good evening. I would like to conduct a search of this household. This is by the Ministry ordinance, and I ask you to please comply without resistance." The ghost surveyed her critically. "May I ask for identification?" Hermione held out the two scrolls bearing the title as Auror, and the permit to search the Manor. The ghost looked at them, ignoring the name 'Hermione Malfoy', and bowed Hermione into the house. "If Madam will please have a seat, I will inform Madam Malfoy of your presence. Thank you very much."

Hermione sat down on the stiff leather couch, glancing around her warily. She had been on the Malfoy grounds only once, and that was when she stood outside in the garden waiting for Draco to come out of the house.

A house-elf ran up to her, and in a high, but refined voice, asked her if she wanted a drink. Hermione, remembering Draco's story about the belladonna and the witch hazel, politely refused. A rustling of silk and a derisive sniff announced Narcissa Malfoy's arrival.

"What brings you here, Madam?" Narcissa asked coolly. Hermione noted her obvious refusal to call her Madam Malfoy. "Good evening, Madam." Hermione replied calmly. "I plan to conduct a search of this house, and I would like to ask if you would be willing to accompany me-" "No…" Narcissa broke in, surveying Hermione's casual attire with distaste. "What is your real reason?" Narcissa seated herself on a chair right across Hermione's, and Hermione felt the coldness of that gaze, in striking contrast to the increasing heat of her bracelet.

"Money? Are you lacking in income?" Narcissa sneered contemptuously. "A place to reside in, perhaps? For what have you come begging to my door? What can filth like you want from me now?" Hermione stared at her incredulously, unbelievingly. "I've come on Ministry business. This is nothing personal… nothing to do with you, or the fact that your son is my husband." Hermione spat.

Narcissa hardly flinched. She glared at Hermione coldly. After what seemed an eternity, with Narcissa's icy grey eyes boring into her skin, and the bracelet in her pocket giving off intense heat, and Hermione trying desperately not to blink or give in, the blonde woman raised her wand. Hermione stepped back into a defensive pose, wand raised and ready. Narcissa smirked, bringing back days of Hogwarts and the old Draco.

"I am not about to hurt you, however my heart longs for it. I am simply going to cast a Screening Charm on you, ensuring you do not bring any…" Narcissa's smirk grew wider. "squalor into my home." Hermione glared distrustfully at her, but allowed Narcissa to throw a blue mist at her.

When Hermione blinked her eyes open, she was seeing everything through a soft haze of blue. This, she kenw, was the effect of the Screening Charm. However, as she got up and went to follow Narcissa out of the sitting-room, something was nagging at the back of her head. Like something incredibly important that she had forgotten.

~*~

They walked through the silent stone manor in silence, Hermione glancing warily around her. She had asked Narcissa to bring her to the drawing-room, and she expected Narcissa to react, or even refuse. Instead, the impossibly pale woman stared at her for a few moments, then silently turned and led the way.

The minute they entered the drawing-room, Hermione slapped a hand over the red-hot bracelet in her pocket. She whispered a small Cooling Spell over it, and the heat dissipated gradually. Narcissa turned to Hermione, raising a graceful arm. "Search all you want." she whispered, cold steel in her voice.

Hermione walked straight up to the painting on the wall, glancing only briefly at the beautiful young man on it, before whispering Lucet. The wall slid open, and once again, Hermione had to reinforce the Cooling Spell on her Dark-Detecting bracelet.

Around her lay large, neat piles of nasty-looking artifacts, all glaring up at her as if to dare her to defy them and turn them in to the Ministry of Magic. She stared at them, uncertain of which to examine first.

She decided on a small corner, where smaller objects lay undisturbed. A nondescript crystal ball, some metal rods… they sat on a table beside a pair of black and white dragonhide gloves, the dust thick on their bull surfaces. Hermione moved towards them, but a cold voice stopped her from picking up the largest black rod.

"I suggest, if you sincerely want to keep all five fingers of your filthy Mudblood hand intact, that you refrain from handling those without dragonhide gloves." Hermione whirled around. Narcissa leaned elegantly against the wall, surveying her with a nasty, amused smile.

Hermione mentally slapped herself. What is wrong with me? Forgetting my gloves, honestly! This is the stupidest thing that I could ever have done… Her senses seemed dull, and she blamed it on her nerves.

She continued on, occasionally examining an object that caught her eye, but this time, wearing her heavy-duty Graphorn hide gloves. The seals on every single one of the objects were exactly the same, and they looked oddly familiar, but Hermione took those down as Lucius Malfoy's own seal.

Three hours passed, and all poisons, weapons, artifacts, and 'curious objects' that Hermione had found inside the Malfoy Manor all bore the same seal… a silver dragon with black thorns twined around it's tail. Hermione grinned at the sight of those. Ah, we've got Lucius Malfoy now! If only Mr. Weasley was here…

Finally, as she stood at the doorway, she turned to talk to Narcissa one last time. "Thank you." she said coldly. "And Ministry officials shall be here tomorrow morning to collect your…" Hermione hesitated. "late husband's belongings." She turned away, pulling her cloak around her, but once more, Narcissa's voice froze her in her tracks.

"My late husband's belongings?" Narcissa laughed softly. "I believe all that you have seen here tonight belongs to your husband… not mine."

Hermione turned to reply, but something suddenly hit her. She yanked Draco's scroll out of her bag. Unrolling it, the truth stared up at her with malevolent green eyes.

Draco's seal, the silver dragon with thorns on its tail.