Chapter Two: The Tip of the Iceburg
By Jonah
She was late.
Another glance at the ticking cuckoo clock told him that it was now 12:17, a full seventeen minutes past curfew. He got up from his comfortable armchair to spare another look between the curtains to the front lawn.
No sign of her yet.
Ignoring the silent calling of his favorite chair, he began to pace around the living room, evening newspaper tightly tucked beneath his arm. He knew he shouldn't have allowed her to go to that stupid party. Silly of him to believe she would actually be home before midnight. He could just imagine the 'partying' his dear daughter was doing — the alcohol, the boys…
He paused his pacing to make a silent prayer that his daughter was not shacked up in some room with a boy somewhere.
Another look, and she was now eighteen minutes late. Oh how his daughter would surely feel his wrath when she returned. He didn't care if she cried — it was the least she deserved for putting him through such worry. That and the fact that she lied to him.
Nineteen minutes. Revenge would be sweet.
The light creaking of the floorboards signaled her arrival. He hid a vicious smile. She was a sneaky one, trying to tip-toe around so he wouldn't wake up. Little did she know that he was already awake and waiting.
Finally disposing the newspaper from his grasp, he made his way towards the front door, his mouth already forming the words he would surprise her with.
"Hold it right there, young la… Hey, who're you?" His practiced words had died in his mouth upon seeing the figure standing before the door that was definitely not his daughter.
"How did you get in here?" He squinted his eyes, willing his old eyes to adjust to the dark. He watched curiously as the figure raised a hand, holding something that looked like a long, thin stick.
"What — "
A bright green flash of light suddenly invaded his line of vision, and he knew no more.
"AUGH!"
Draco found himself sitting upright on his bed, his legs tangled into his sheets, his pillows somehow winding up on the floor. His breathing came in ragged gasps as sweat poured profusely all over his body. Visions of a dream fleeted through his mind leaving his eyes wide and panicked. Unwillingly, his mind began processing those images, working, twisting, and bending them to trigger some sort of recognition on his part.
Suddenly, almost instinctively, a strangled cry escaped his throat and he jumped back on his bed, scrambling backwards until the cold, solid feeling of his headboard met his back. His mind had stopped its manipulations, the images hanging in some sort of suspended animation that he saw in his mind's eye, his own physical ones staring blankly into nothing.
The dream had felt so real. So realistic had it been that he still felt a tiny bit of anger for some unknown daughter of his, lingering somewhere in the depths of his chest. Like some sort of button was pressed, the dream replayed over in his mind. Desperately, Draco shut his eyes, but the images only flickered with intensity against his eyelids. He opened his eyes and raised shaky hands to touch the sides of his head, gently massaging the temples in hopes to drive the images away.
No dice.
He had now reached some sort of peak and was digging furiously into his temples, nearly growling as the images refused to go away.
A sharp rap on his bathroom door paused his ministrations, his mother's voice floating into the dark room.
"Draco? Are you alright?" Her voice was laced with unhidden worry and her knocking became persistent.
"I-I'm alright!" he shouted, desperately willing his body to stop shaking.
His mother continued to knock. "I heard you scream."
"It was just a nightmare — I'm fine now!"
Her knocking had stopped, but he knew she had yet to move away from the door. "Are you sure?" she asked. Her tone was so worried and motherly that Draco's heart ached to lie to her.
"Yes," he said, dropping his head into his hands. There was a moment of silence before he heard the shuffling of feet behind the door, and the soft click of his mother's door closing. Finally, he allowed himself to sigh loudly. The images had diminished a considerable amount, but he could still see flashes of them when his eyes were closed.
He fell back into his bed and stared at his ceiling. The glowing numbers hovering over his bed-side table told him there were still a few hours before morning. His body ached of fatigue but his eyes remained open and staring.
He did not trust himself to sleep.
Harry pursed his lips in deep concentration, the tip of his tongue only poking slightly out. A shaky hand shot up to wipe the sweat off his brow, his green eyes squinting the way they usually did when he was thinking hard. Finally, he drew in a shaky breath, his hand slowly coming up while the other gripped it steady.
Just a little bit more…
Yes!
Harry released the breath he had been holding, slumping back into his chair as he looked on in proud triumph over what he'd accomplished.
"Your turn, mate."
He grinned behind the proud stack of cards, which had grown to be over two feet tall. The tallest point was his very own card, the Queen of Hearts, sitting silently atop two other. The game had reached its ultimate high now; a mere exhale in the wrong direction could send it toppling over.
"Ron?" he said tauntingly, enjoying the way the man twitched ever other second.
"I'm concentrating!" Ron shushed. He was staring intently at the house, inspecting it from every angle while he muttered possibilities to himself. Harry wasn't sure how long it took him to finally make the full 360 inspection, but he sure knew when it ended.
"Eureka!" Ron shouted, punching an arm into the air. He stuck out the other arm, his hand firmly grasping the last card, the King of Spades, while he gave Harry a measuring stare. "Prepare to have your arse whipped."
Harry only scoffed. "Big talk."
Ron ignored him completely as he set aside to work completely on the house. He kept his arms as steady as possible, and ever-so-slowly lowered the card. Harry leaned in slightly, watching as Ron set the card down and quickly moved his hands away. The house swayed and both men held on to their breaths. It was any man's game now as the house continued to tilt and sway.
Then suddenly —
SLAM.
The two men watched, stupefied, as the house of cards came tumbling down. Bitter footsteps made their way over to the living room, accompanied by angry muttering.
"Hullo Sirius," Harry sighed gloomily, picking at the cards on the table.
Sirius only continued to mutter under his breath as he heavily tossed himself on the empty arm chair he'd long ago claimed as his and his alone. Harry and Ron exchanged curious glances before completely forgetting about the cards and turning towards the ex-convict in interest.
"Trouble in paradise?" Ron asked with a half-smile.
His answer came in the form of one very rude hand gesture.
"I see," nodded Ron, wisely opting not to sit within arm-length.
"What's up?" Harry asked gently. It was certainly not unlike Sirius to be quite rash, but he'd usually play along with Ron.
Sirius shook his head, his frown looking permanent. "I've got to go back again tonight."
"Again?" Harry asked, frowning. "That's the third night this week."
"The crime rate's only tripled in the last week," Sirius sighed heavily, allowing his face to drop into the cup of his hands. "Now the lot of us are stuck with all the paperwork those damn Aurors keep bringing in."
"I don't understand it," said Ron. "The crime's never been this bad before, even in the holiday season… You don't think something's going down, do you?"
"I doubt it," frowned Sirius. "These crimes are mostly petty things…"
"It's puzzling though," Ron persisted. "Crime, even petty crime, never really gave us that much of a bother before."
Harry shrugged, reaching over the pack of cards for a folded newspaper. "It was probably just bound to happen anyway," he said as he buried himself into it. "Wizards are still people after all."
Ron nodded, but frowned anyway. Then something caught his eye. "Hey, Harry…" Harry poked his head out from behind the paper to look at him. "What newspaper is that? The pictures aren't moving."
"Hmm? Oh!" Harry laughed. "It's a Muggle newspaper. I buy some issues from time to time, just to keep myself posted."
"You think I could borrow it when you're done? Hermione might like to 'keep posted' too."
"Sure."
A second of silence.
"Hello?!" Sirius cried, waving his arms around to successfully get the two men's attentions again. "What about me? Remember me? What about my problems?"
Ron and Harry looked at him, then at each other, then carried on with what they were doing.
Ginny sighed.
"Uh oh. That's not a happy sigh." Hermione smiled gently as she handed Ginny a cup of tea. They were inside the living room of the older girl's apartment. Ginny was currently occupying one half of the loveseat while Hermione nestled herself into a chair directly opposite. There was still a few days left in Ginny's winter vacation, something she recently realized she had always taken for granted.
Hermione lifted the mug in her hands, stopping just a few inches short of her lips. "Is there something wrong?"
Ginny shrugged, watching as her tea simmered. "I'm not sure," she said in all honesty.
"This wouldn't have anything to do with Draco, would it?" Hermione asked, a coy smile peaking out from behind her mug.
The younger girl blushed. "Am I that obvious?"
"Not terribly so," Hermione laughed softly. "But I do recognize the symptoms."
Ginny let out a loud and dismal sigh as she fell into the loveseat's cushions. "I don't know, but lately I've been getting this feeling that Draco's hiding something from me."
"Something important?"
"Something very important." Ginny frowned in thought. She raised her hand to fidget with the silver dragon pin on her shirt. "I even tried feeling it out, but I ended up with nothing."
"I'm not so surprised," sighed Hermione. "Your powers are purely empathetic. If he's hiding something, you'd only be able to sense that, but not whatever it is."
Ginny pulled a face. "I hate it when you talk like some psychologist studying me."
Hermione only smiled brightly. "Oh, but I am studying you," she reminded cheerfully. "And what a thoroughly intriguing study it is, too. Since the October incident, your powers have grown steadily. Of course, they only work towards Draco, but the fact of it is still very thrilling."
Ginny could only roll her eyes as she twisted her position the loveseat so that her upper body was now dangling down and her legs kicked lightly in the air. "I'm just some fascinating new guinea pig for you, aren't I?" she pouted, playfully.
Hermione chuckled. "Yes, and my best friend too." Her smile faded a bit, and her tone grew serious. "If he's hiding something from you, I'm afraid the only thing you can do is wait until he tells you himself."
Ginny's legs stopped kicking. Her fingers continued to play with the pin. "But what if he doesn't?"
"You'll just have to trust that he will."
Silence filled the small living room as Ginny mulled over her friend's words. It seemed simple enough. She just had to trust him. Trust Draco Malfoy.
The irony of it made her smile.
"So," Hermione said casually as she put her mug down only to replace it with a notepad and quill. "Is there anything new going on with your powers that I should take note of?"
Ginny knitted her brows in thought. "Well, yesterday I caught him lying when he said he liked your mincemeat pie."
Hermione's quill quivered slightly as Ginny gave her a large grin. "Very funny," the brunette muttered darkly as Ginny's legs began kicking again.
A knock on the door got Hermione to forget about her notes and answer it, leaving Ginny alone in the living room to hum to herself. "Oh just who I wanted to see!" Hermione said, happily bouncing back into the living room, a confused Draco following slowly after her.
A loud squeak escaped Ginny's mouth upon seeing him, and she scrambled to get into an upright position. By the time she was done, Hermione was already in her seat with her pad and quill in hand. Ginny's cheeks burned as Draco quirked a brow in her direction. She could literally feel his amusement hovering around his body like an aura, only adding in her embarrassment.
"Why did you want to see me?" Draco asked Hermione, though his eyes never left Ginny's rosy-hued face.
"I just have a few questions, that's all," smiled Hermione, and motioned for him to take the other half of the loveseat. Ginny could still sense a bit of anxiety in Draco's part, probably because he still had a hard time handling Hermione's sudden friendliness after the October incident. Ginny, too, found it a bit odd, but Hermione had always been very considering when it came to her feelings. She supposed it was just Hermione's way of showing her friendship and support, to be able to throw down all fences and accept Draco as someone important to Ginny. Her brother, on the other hand…
"Now," said Hermione casually once Draco had finally seated himself. Ginny's face was still burning. "If neither of you mind, I just want to run a few tests on Ginny's powers by asking a few questions and observing. This means, Draco, that you will be exposed — emotion-wise, of course."
Neither of her two guests said anything, merely stared at her, which she took as a good enough invitation as any.
"Terrific!" she smiled, and immediately began firing. "So, Ginny, without even trying, can you sense a bit of Draco's emotions right now?"
"Yes," Ginny answered awkwardly.
Hermione's quill zoomed by her pad. "And what are they?"
"…Complicated," Ginny frowned, and turned to look at Draco when Hermione suddenly stopped her.
"Don't look at him yet," she said firmly, without taking her eyes of her pad as she wrote. When she finally looked up, her face was serious. "Now concentrate, Ginny. Probe into his feelings, try to figure them out."
Sighing, Ginny stared at Draco's profile. His face told nothing, a veritable mask of calmness as he stared straight ahead. Concentrating, Ginny reached into his mind and heart, imaginary fingers poking and probing as she tried to pick his feelings apart. She felt nothing at first, then, like some of switch had turned on, they came to her in a tidal wave, invading her senses and nearly knocking the wind out of her.
"Ginny?" came Hermione's soft yet firm voice.
"Huh?" Ginny turned to face her, dizzy and dazed.
"Have you figured them out?"
Ginny blinked once, then twice, before dropping her gaze to stare intently at her hands. When she answered, her voice was small but honest. "No."
Hermione said nothing as she scribbled something on her pad. "Did you feel anything, Draco?"
It was a moment before he answered. His voice was empty. "I felt her in me. She was… probing."
Hearing the words come from his mouth made Ginny wince. Draco suddenly felt cold beside her. Hermione seemed to not notice the sudden tension between them, for she continued on.
"Okay, Draco, can you focus on just one emotion? Ginny, I want you to try and see if you can figure that one out."
And suddenly the coldness was gone, and in its place Ginny felt an air of mischief. Draco's lips had quirked up a millimeter. Ginny turned back to stare at Draco, concentrating, reaching. Then her eyes widened and her cheeks and ears burned furiously. Quickly, Ginny turned away. She sat stiffly with her hand placed precariously on top of her lap as she tried her best to hide her blushing face from Hermione's observant eyes.
Alas, for it was in vain.
"Ginny? What did you sense?"
Beside her, Draco chuckled softly. Ginny mentally cursed him, her hands formed into tight, shaking fists on her lap.
And still, Hermione persisted. "Ginny?"
"I… don't want to say," Ginny said stiffly. Oh, she must look like a tomato!
Hermione blinked. Then it hit her. "Oh," she breathed, a hand flying up to her mouth as she glanced from Ginny's embarrassed face to Draco's smug one. Oh my.
She let out a nervous giggle and tossed her pad and quill to the side. "Well that's enough of this for today," she said, feeling her own cheeks begin to burn. "Excuse me, I think I left something on…" Then she got up and left the room as quickly as she could.
The minute she was gone, Ginny smacked Draco's arm. "You pervert!" she hissed, as Draco howled in laughter. He didn't even try to defend himself as Ginny continued her one-handed attacks.
"Y-You should've seen your face!" Draco laughed, until Ginny gave him a rough poke in the ribs. "Ow!" he shouted, sourly rubbing at the spot. "That hurt."
"It's nothing less than what you deserve." Ginny stuck her tongue out before turning away from him to sit stubbornly with her arms crossed. "Jerk."
Draco's shoulders shook with his silent laughter. "Honestly, your face…"
"Shut up," Ginny fumed. "You're such a guy, I can't believe you. I'd never felt so embarrassed in my life."
"Embarrassed… or heated?" Draco had leaned into her, to the point where his lips were hovering slightly beside her ear. She nearly shivered from his warm breath.
Then she pushed him away, only to have him laugh again. "Stop toying with me," she warned him. "Never do that again."
"Bloody serves you and Granger right," sniffed Draco. "Honestly, dragging me along into your little science project."
Ginny sighed, her anger leaving her. "You're right, I'm sorry. Hermione just tends to let her intellectual quests get the better of her sometimes."
"No kidding," Draco muttered.
Ginny smiled at him then, a devilish sort of smile, before snuggling up close. "So what were you thinking about?"
But before he could answer, Hermione had reentered, looking only slightly embarrassed. She was holding a mug in her hand, which she promptly handed over to Draco.
"So what brings you here?" she asked, as if the past events hadn't even occurred. "I didn't know you knew where Ron and I lived."
"I came by the Burrow to visit Ginny," he said a bit stiffly. "One of the twins told me how to get to her."
"Really?" Ginny said, interested, surprised. "Just like that?"
Draco sniffed the air haughtily. "Malfoys have marvelous persuasion skills."
"You got lost, didn't you?"
"Bleeding directions were nothing but crap," Draco muttered sourly.
"So how did you manage to find your way?" Hermione asked.
"Skill."
"Which translates to 'pure luck'," Ginny said dryly and giggled when Draco huffed. He opened his mouth to make a biting reply when the loud shouts of, "'Mione? Where are you?" signaled the arrival of Ron and Harry. Automatically, Draco groaned. Ginny only giggled, and soon enough her brother and Harry walked into the room.
The air immediately stilled. Ron stopped walking the moment he saw Draco with Harry just a few feet beside him. His blue eyes immediately hardened upon seeing his school enemy sitting on his furniture, in his home, speaking with his fiancé, and sitting way too close to his baby sister.
Ginny felt she could cut the tension with a knife.
"What are you doing here?" Ron finally asked.
"He's just answering some questions for me," Hermione came quick to say. Her tone was a reprimanding one, and Ron was quick to recognize it. Immediately the tension dissipated and Harry let out an uncomfortable laugh.
"You really have to stop treating them like guinea pigs, you know," he joked, finally mustering up enough strength to move into the couch beside them. It took a few moments before Ron could get his legs to work but when he did, he absolutely refused to meet Draco in the eye as he walked past to sit with Harry.
It was only when he made contact with the cushions did he suddenly remember something. "Oh, 'Mione," he began, holding out the folded newspaper he'd been holding. "Here's some Muggle newspaper. Harry bought it; I thought you'd like to catch up."
"Oh, wonderful!" gasped Hermione, immediately snatching up the papers to bury herself into it. "I'd been missing an awful lot of Dear Abby's…" Ron sent Harry a puzzled look that he just waved his hand at.
Ginny smiled, wishing moments with her friends where they weren't at each other's throats were more frequent. She turned to stare at the man beside her, who'd immediately silenced once her brother had arrived. She supposed she'd just have to get used to it, though the thought didn't make it any easier.
She watched as Draco stifled a yawn, and suddenly noticed the bags under his eyes. She frowned and wondered why she hadn't noticed them before; they stood out so plainly against the paleness of his skin. They were dark and deep and made him looks years older than he should have. He was lacking sleep, that much was sure. But why?
There was a sharp intake of breath somewhere beside her, and it took her a while before she realized it had come from Draco, himself. His eyes had widened and his mouth hung open, though not so much that it caught anybody else's attention.
A wave of emotion washed over her, only it wasn't her own. She stared, shocked and dizzy from the amount of emotion he was feeling. A horrible, twisting knot formed in her stomach and she flinched from the intensity of it.
Draco was afraid. And terribly so.
She struggled to keep calm, but Draco's fear was quickly overwhelming her. Without warning, Draco's hand shot up to snatch the paper from Hermione's hands, making her gasp in surprise. Ron and Harry were on their feet in an instant, the scent of foul play triggering their defenses. Ginny threw up her hands; she wanted to stop the fight that was sure to come. Ron and Harry were shouting at Draco, indignant and outraged.
But Draco ignored them, his eyes burrowed into the newspaper he was now pinning to the coffee table between them. His was choking on his breaths, trying desperately to keep calm. His eyes were wide in panic and confusion.
Ginny dropped down to her knees by his side, her arms coming up to wrap around his arms and shoulders. "Draco, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice trembling from her own fear. She could hear his own heartbeat pounding away in her ears.
The shouting had stopped. The room grew eerily silent as everyone watched Draco, stunned. Slowly, almost in dread, they turned to look at what Draco was staring at.
It was a picture.
A simple, black and white picture of a middle-aged man on vacation. He was smiling, the structure of Big Ben standing proudly over his shoulder.
He was also dead.
Large, bold letters crowned the picture. It read, "Man Found Dead; Cause Unknown".
Tension and fear evolved into confusion as Ginny stared at the picture. She did not recognize him at all. He was a Muggle, and apparently not one of important stature. Did Draco know him? It seemed too impossible to grasp. But from the way he was reacting… He looked as if he'd seen a ghost.
"Draco?" Ginny tried again, softer this time.
"I have to go," he said suddenly, surprising everyone in the room. He jumped up, one hand desperately clutching the newspaper as he stumbled his way towards the door. There was a turn and a click, and Draco was gone.
Ginny remained on the floor, staring off where she had seen him last.
"Does anyone care to explain all that?" Harry said, breaking the silence.
Ginny frowned. She could still feel his fear.
The lights outside of his office died; the last of his co-workers had gone home for the day.
Maguire remained glued to his seat, looking through the documents he had scattered over his desk by what little light his dinky office offered.
Headquarters had laughed at his decision of murder concerning the latest case. There was just no evidence that pointed to it. But his gut practically screamed homicide the moment he took a look at the body, and he'd learned to always trust his gut.
Which brought him to his current position — spending the last of his holiday break working on a seemingly impossible case. He didn't mind it much; his mother-in-law was still visiting, after all.
He actually had some sort of pattern going on; he'd reach over his desks for a few papers, skim through them, find absolutely nothing helpful, frown, then toss them away. He was getting pretty good at it too, and was thinking he might not even need to frown the next time when something caught his eye. Excited, he clutched the paper he held with both hands, almost afraid it might disappear. His eyes zoomed through it once, then twice, then another time just to make sure.
There was no mistaking it. Completely identical matches. He almost expected the ceiling to open up and a choir of angels to sing "Halleluiah".
He didn't even try to hold back the grin that invaded his mouth as he began dialing for Headquarters.