A/N: Well, I'm not getting many reviews for this, but I'll keep on going anyway... and I'm dreadfully sorry about not having updated sooner, but I've been really busy, with exams, papers, other fics, and my always *intense* social life (please note the sarcasm dripping from the last words...)

Summary: Well, the title is pretty self-explanatory. Four students have been killed and a fifth victim lies unconscious. But, who is she? And why were they killed? And, most importantly, whodunit? Harry Potter & Co. investigate while love tries to flourish.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything HarryPotterish, JK Rowling does, and I'm not making any money out of this. The plot and the few original characters are mine, if I want them.

Rating: A high PG-13, I suppose, for swearing, violence and gory scenes.

Pairing: Some RW/HG, but I think that main focus might be DM/HP.

Murder in the Hogwarts Express or the Fifth Element, by Dark Fairy.

Chapter 6
Lucius Malfoy sat in the library at Malfoy Manor, with an open volume on his lap and a glass of Ogden's Old Firewhisky on the table next to him. Both his elegant hands rested on the soft velvet of the armchair, a dark green fabric that went along with his own forest-green robes, and his left foot tapped impatiently the carpeted floor. He wasn't waiting for anything in particular, but the ghosting feeling of impending danger hadn't left him since the 1st of September and he sort of welcomed it, since it eased the absence of other feelings, more profound and unsettling. He had re-read the Daily Prophet about five times, trying to find something that wasn't there, something to tell him that everything was going according to plan, a vague reference to the girl Draco had talked about in his first owl.

Actually, Draco was one of the main reasons for everything to happen. Contrary to what the world saw, Lucius Malfoy was a family man, and he would do almost anything before seeing his loved ones threatened. 'Anything' included using all his magical prowess to create a highly illegal and dangerous creature that would prove to be the downfall of the wizard to whom he owed allegiance, and he had done just that when he began to foresee a turn in Voldemort's luck. He might had to face the consequences of his actions (and he wouldn't while he could help it) but under no circumstances whatsoever he was going to allow Narcissa or Draco to pay for him. No, everything would work out, Voldemort would be defeated and he, Lucius Malfoy, all evidence of his dark past erased, would be safe again, ready to earn power in another way.

And meanwhile... the clock on the wall chimed seven times, and a thunder rolled outside, in the evening sky that threatened rain. He vividly remembered soft hands holding his face, shifting eyes locked into his, a shy smile and a timid whisper "Your eyes are like the sky when it's angry, but they scare me even more"; he remembered how he had smiled, asking if he was really that frightful, and how she had laughed, gazing back into the rolling clouds, and assenting between giggles. His slate-grey eyes became unfocused again as he brought back memories of the summer that was now transforming into autumn; it had been the happiest summer of his life since one night a pair of dark eyes had opened for the first time, while the full moon shone into the dungeon by a skylight, illuminating the shelves full with rare ingredients and strange artefacts. It had taken so long, to pain- stakingly gather the ingredients, many of which were of the rarest kind, to wait until the planetary system was in the right conjunction, to memorise incantations, to practice spells, to keep *everyone* in blissful ignorance of what he was doing, to have it all pending from having measured the right amount of mummia or pronouncing the Celtic prayer correctly, but in the end it all paid off when those dark eyes had opened and reflected the light from the full moon.
In her room, Narcissa Malfoy was peering into a small mirror with a heavily ornate frame: it wasn't her flawless reflection she was examining, but a real-time image of what was happening in the library of Malfoy Manor. Lucius, her Lucius, was sitting there again, not reading, not writing, with that far-away look that robbed him of his usual sharpness, his mind retired behind a curtain of memories. She was well aware that her duty as a wife was to stand by her husband and to obey his orders, whether explicit or implied, but she had a horrible feeling of uncertainty with his last scheme and she couldn't shake it off, however hard she tried. The news of the attack to the Hogwarts Express had shaken her nerves badly, and her sister's grieving for her dead child had brought it all too close to her heart: the though of having her beloved Draco harmed in any way was terrifying, and Agnus Noisette had been killed not ten feet away from him, in one of the few places she deemed safe. And Lucius, Lucius calmly strolling in while she was crying, Lucius telling her it would be alright, Lucius with his expressionless face and hazy eyes, not moved, not even surprised by the news...what is a wife and a mother to do?
Harry held Draco for a long minute, his mind refusing to process the weirdness of the situation, until the Slytherin boy gently untangled himself from his grasp. Smoothing his mussed hair with his long fingers, Malfoy turned questioning eyes towards his (now former) archenemy. Harry sighed heavily, but the weight of his promised was greater.

"I won't say anything" answered Harry to the unspoken question. The gratitude in those grey eyes was unmistakable, and the Gryffindor felt all his regrets melt at this.

"Thank you" said Draco, managing a half-smile that made him look amazingly vulnerable, and although Harry felt the need to protect him with all his might, he repressed it. Barely. The Slytherin sighed and decided to share a bit more of information "I will write to Father, telling him of what I've managed to find out, and wait for his answer. If he tells me, he will also tell me what to do, and if he doesn't..."

"If he doesn't, what are you going to do?" pressed Harry.

"You do notice that there is nothing I can do, don't you?" smiled Draco caustically "Have you got the slightest idea of what would happen to me if my father gets into trouble?" Harry grimaced at the thought "My point exactly. I have to stand by him, whatever happens; it's one of the perks of being a Malfoy, you know?" Draco seemed to have recovered his cool, but Harry was still feeling rather confused and he looked quite so, endearing to Malfoy's eyes.

"Then...does it mean that I'll have to be an accomplice?"

"Look, I'm quite sure that there'll be no more bloodshed from that side of the equation, and you can just...advocate for the greater good" The argument was lame, and Draco knew it, but there was nothing else he could say. "I'm sorry"

Silence fell again between them, charged with a magic not summoned by any wand. Harry breathed deeply and wandered if it had always been like this before realising that he had never before had a proper conversation with Malfoy. He wondered why not, since it felt intrinsically right. From his side, Draco marvelled at the chain of events leading to that easy chat, the temporary respite earned by meaningful talks, painful concessions and much bloodshed. It shouldn't have to be like that, they both thought, their considerations coordinated like their heartbeats were.

"Harry" "Draco" they said at the same time; they both stopped and smiled, their mirth lightning up the mood. "You speak first" granted the Slytherin, taking manners as the disguise for cowardice.

"I..." Harry blushed, feeling the tingly atmosphere buzzing around him "I just wanted to say that for some strange reason, nothing I can really explain, I'm beginning to trust you like I never thought I would" A dry smile quirked the Gryffindor's chapped lips.

"Well, that's certainly flattering" snorted Draco, meaning his words more than he would admit. "I..just, thank you, for keeping your promises, and generally being you goody-two-shoes Gryffindor self" The blond boy managed to sound grateful while being sarcastic, and Harry appreciated it. There were still many things left unresolved between them, but he preferred not to think about them, at least not at that particular moment. As if on cue to stop an unwelcome silence, someone knocked at the door.

"Harry, Malfoy, are you in there? Open up, I need to show you something!" Hermione's muffled whisper came from the other side of the door and Malfoy moved towards it to open it, after shooting a glance to Harry 'It's a secret' that look said 'Don't say anything or else' "Everything alright?" asked Hermione when she entered the room, followed by a yawning Ron. "I just had to show you this. I'd taken this book for a bit of extra-Runes reading, but when you mentioned Flower Girl, I remembered something" She opened the book on a page she had marked, and read out a few lines:

"Not from father, nor from mother/ Were my blood or my body/ It was charmed by Gwydion/ The greatest Briton wizard/ When he made me with nine flowers/ Nine blossoms of various classes:/ With the mountain ivy The rose, the lily and the carnation Together intertwined/ With the bean-flower that gives shadow/ To an army of white ghosts/ Earthly ghosts, earthbound by kind/ With the flowers of violet The oak, the thorn, and the timid chestnut/ Nine powers of nine flowers/ Nine powers in me were combined/ Nine blossoms of plants and trees/ Long and pale my fingers are/ Like the ninth wave of the sea"

Hermione stopped after that, her face shining with pride and intelligence.

"You mean you dragged me out of bed just to recite poetry?!" groaned Ron, earning a glare from his girlfriend.

"Go back to sleep, Weasel" snapped Draco, his eyes narrowed in concentration. "Granger, how is that poetry called? It sounds vaguely familiar"

"Hanes Blodeuwedd" replied Hermione, peering into the page "It says that it is the English translation of the Spanish translation of the English translation of the Gaelic original [Sorry, I couldn't lay my hands in the English version of it!]"

"The May Queen, an ancient Celtic tradition, which appears in almost every poetic compilation... how could I be so blind?" asked Draco, biting his lower lip. He fell silent again, staring decidedly at the stone floor.

Harry had been doing the same since Hermione had made her entrance. What was he going to tell his friends? 'Sorry guys, I promised our archenemy I wouldn't investigate into the murder of our friend, because he doesn't want his father implicated'. He snorted softly, not noticing the looks Ron and Hermione were giving him. Only a short cough brought him back to reality, looking up only to see Dumbledore, with a many-coloured dressing robe and a strange twinkling in his eyes.

"How nice to find you all gathered together, not fighting for once!" exclaimed the old wizard. "Still, I'm afraid I'll have to interrupt this little reunion...Can I have a word with you, Mr Malfoy?"

Draco visibly shrinked back from Dumbledore, shooting a fleeting glance to Harry. Then, another shadow appeared behind the Hogwarts Headmaster.

"Did you want to talk to me, Sir?" asked Ethan Grimm, with soft concern in his voice.

"Yes, Ethan, thank you for coming at this ungodly hour of the night. Would you mind leading your cousin into my office while I have a word with these Gryffindors?" Ethan and Draco left silently, leaving Hermione, Harry and Ron, who was suddenly awake, at the mercy of the white-haired wizard. "Miss Granger, how lovely! That was the exact book I was looking for this afternoon, but Madam Pince refused to give me any preference over her favourite student! Would you mind letting me have a look?" Hermione blushed under the compliment, and handed the old volume to Dumbledore, forgetting to shut the page it was at. "And we were researching the same subject!"

Harry gulped. There was no chance of Dumbledore *not* seeing that they had stuck their noses where they didn't belong, once again. Ron seemed aware of that as well, while Hermione's face had long ago been covered by the veil of realisation.

"What do you know about the May Queen, then?" asked Dumbledore, his blue gaze oddly piercing.

"Well, Harry mentioned a legend and I just remembered seeing something about it..." Hermione shot an apologetic look to Harry, who was too worried to notice. Dumbledore now turned to him, his eyes never stopping their annoying twinkling.

"Indeed, Mr Potter. I would like to talk to you more calmly about it, seeing as we share interests...May I suggest to Miss Granger and Mr Weasley a prompt return to their respective dormitories? I hardly think it is time for wandering around" Hermione and Ron stuttered their good-nights and scurried back to Gryffindor Tower, while Harry remained with Dumbledore. "Let's go to my office, Harry, and have a nice cup of tea" proposed the old man, leading the way.
"What the Hell happened?" hissed Draco, following Ethan through a dark corridor.

"You saw the girl, didn't you?" snapped Ethan back "Dumbledore went to talk to her a while after he woke her up..."

"I was still there, with Potter" Draco informed his cousin "We left as soon as he went in"

"Well, so he talked to her, went back to his office, had like a hundred lemon drops and then looked at a battered piece of parchment, sent me a message asking me to meet him at that classroom and then, you know, he found you" Ethan was seriously stressed: he didn't want to lose his post as a Hogwarts teacher, but he knew ha had to protect his family.

"Do you think he suspects Lucius?" asked Draco worriedly. The younger wizard was biting his bottom lip and shuffling nervously in front of the stone gargoyle.

"Well, it took us only a day to find out, it would have surprised me if Dumbledore hadn't discovered it sooner" the DADA teacher blew the hair out of his eyes and smiled down at his little cousin. "Now, just what were you doing in an empty classroom, at this hour of the night, with Potter?" Draco blushed horrendously at the malicious tone of the question.

"Nothing!" he shrieked "We had just gone back from the hospital wing, and then we..." he doubted about telling Ethan that Harry also knew "I told him I suspected Father, and he promised to keep it a secret" //And he told me he trusted me, and he hugged me and... admit it, it was more than a simple chat!// said the voice inside Draco's head.

"You do realise you've lost your mind, don't you?" asked Ethan, unable to keep the mirth out of his voice at the sight of his usually self-composed cousin blushing for all he was worth. Further commentaries were dismissed by the sound of Dumbledore's slippers shuffling along a corridor, followed by Harry's squeaky trainers.

"Let us have a cup of tea and a cosy chat" said the Headmaster, caressing the stone gargoyle into springing apart and letting them through. "After all, it seems we have a lot to talk about"

----------------- A/N: Well, the Celtic quote is real, although I had to make up the names of the flowers (damn my lack of a proper English dictionary!)..