center i b Draco Malfoy

A lesson in Interrogation.

By LOUI

Beta'd by The Hogwarts Players /b /i /center

Hearing the door to the Interview Room open, I, Draco Malfoy, quickly reassume an air of studied nonchalance and give the outward appearance of being fully intent on buffing the perfect fingernails of my left hand on the right sleeve of my bottle green velvet shirt. I may have been disinherited for having the effrontery to have a relationship with i Potter /i but that did not mean that all the lessons of my childhood had been bad ones.

The Malfoy family do not show nervousness or fear in the Ministry of Magic. We have, after all, been bribing the officials of so many departments for so long now, that it is practically impossible not to meet somebody walking the corridors of the Ministry that the family has not 'owned' at some point or another. Our star may not be completely in the ascendant as it was in recent years, but, we are by no means beaten down. We are still walking about free and with money – well, those of us that haven't been disinherited for shagging the hero of the Wizarding World – and we are still the richest of the pureblood families, not to mention, one of the oldest and most powerful. It may take five years, it may take fifty, but the family will become pre-eminent in society again rather than just reluctantly tolerated, as is the current status quo.

Besides, it's that Basher woman who is going to be questioning me… I have never liked her. She's always looked at me as though I was some potions ingredient that gave off a pungent smell. She knows damn well whose side I was on during the war – all the oh-so-perfect Auror division do. It is an acknowledged fact that the Boy Who Lived and I have been shagging for years. It is also an unspoken but acknowledged fact that the entirety of the Auror division – apart from Harry – would still quite happily gut me for sullying the perfection of the Wizarding World's Golden Boy.

Still, apart from the indignity of having to sit through an interrogation – they can call it an interview if they fee it sounds prettier, I know it is an interrogation – and actually being considered a murder suspect, this is turning out to be quite a good week. I've i finally /i managed to find just the right shade of silk and the most i exquisitely /i soft leather in the absolutely perfect shade of silver. Harry promised me that I could buy whatever I want for Frederico to make me a new ensemble for the Ball next month at the Ministry. I fully intend to look like sex on a stick.

I've had my little bit of extracurricular fun – now obviously curtailed by recent events – but that is irrelevant. From what Ron – i the Weasel, remember, you don't know him that intimately /i – had all but flung in my face with those suspiciously not-so-secret meetings that left Harry so flustered, it was all too apparent that Ron knew that it was not only me that had been having a bit on the side.

I did not – and still don't – want to know why Harry has been shagging Snape –my imagination quails at the thought of it. All that I want is to make sure that I am the one who stays in Harry's bed. I want to be the one the public acknowledges as Harry Potter's other half. I b do /b not like the idea of sharing Harry with anyone, and, if I can, I am going to make sure that I give Harry all he needs in bed to make sure he no longer needs to stray. If I can't give Harry what he wants, then – much as it aggrieves me to – I know that I will have to share Harry's affections, even if that means sharing my lover with, of all people, Snape.

I have – and do – love Harry as best as I know how – ironically i that /i was one of the lessons that my Malfoy upbringing has left me woefully unprepared for – but I know it might not be the all-consuming passion and devotion that Harry probably craves. We are so very good together, though. I may stray on occasion, but that is only because I have absolutely no willpower when it comes to someone offering me casual and easy sex. As long as Harry and I can keep what we have – and I get to keep access to Harry's…sorry, 'our' money, as Harry keeps telling me – then I know… okay, hope… that we'll be fine.

I knew it was time to break it off with the Weasel when I found out exactly how complicit he was in the drug-death of Longbottom's girlfriend, Lorraine… Lorna… it was something beginning with an L. When Ron threatened to expose our relationship, if you could call him fucking me senseless a relationship and vice versa, to Harry, then I knew that I was going to have to take stronger steps to break free from Weasley.

I already knew about Harry's bit on the side because I am a Slytherin, I am a Malfoy, and I am – even if I say so myself – a sneaky git. I am far better at hiding wrong-doing from Harry than Harry is from me. Harry is still full of wonderful naiveté when it comes to my being ever-so-slightly deviant from the straight and narrow path that Gryffindors – and their loved ones – are supposed to tread. It is one of the things I love about my bloody Gryffindor.

I had only gone after the Weasel in a moment of pique one night when I knew Harry was off somewhere with Snape. It was an illicit thrill to actually fuck the freckled fuck-monster. I still have friends inside the staff of my father's club and that wider scene. I knew exactly what the youngest Weasley male had got up to in recent years… far more than the Aurors probably still know. It had been a mind-fuck to fuck the man who's befriending of Harry Potter had scarred my own school days since the first day of First Year.

I'd won in the end, though. Harry really hadn't had anything to do with either of the other members of the much-vaunted Golden Trio in years. He'd had more Slytherins with him than Gryffindors during the Final Battle, and, I, Draco Malfoy had been the one constant that had graced his bed for years. Who said the good guys always won?

The bint – oops, that was, I meant, Chief Investigator Basher – tapped one of her over-long fingernails on the table that separated us, I roused myself into an effortless sitting position, my back ramrod straight and posture absolutely perfect, of course, and plastered an insincere – but completely convincing – smile on my face, and said, "My dear Madame Basher, how can I help you?"

The fake smile that was directed back at me would have got me sharply hexed by my mother when she was training me how to act in public if I'd tried to pass that off as 'sincere'.

She pulled out a parchment and a Weasley-patented tamper-proof note taking quill. It would record absolutely everything said in the room, and annotate any lengthy pauses between a question and an answer. An invention of the Weasley Twins – the only two worthwhile people in the entire family – that had been much relied on during the war to ensure that fake deployment orders and similar such things could not be used. It was now as widely used as a Dicta-Quill and was far better for official recordings.

"Do I have your permission to use a Verbatim Quill to record this interview?" I, of course, nodded my assent. It wouldn't look good if I threw a hissy fit over something like that, would it?

"Mr. Malfoy, as you are aware, there has been some recent unpleasantness in the alleyway behind the Leaky Cauldron."

Arching an eyebrow with practised ease, I said, "As I understand it, dear lady, I am being held as a suspect in the murder of Ronald Weasley. I think that ranks somewhere above 'unpleasantness'."

The fake grin slipped from her face and it instead assumed its more familiar waspish personality. Not that I would ever admit to it, but that fact actually relaxed me slightly. I don't like it when Aurors – other than Harry – try to be friendly with me. It just raises my hackles.

"You are right, of course, Mr. Malfoy. Murder does indeed rank above mere unpleasantness. Tell me…what was your relationship with the deceased?"

I bite my lip to keep from commenting aloud at her god-awful attempt at interjecting casualness into an interrogation to set me, the one being interrogated, at ease. If this was the level of competence amongst the Aurors, then some remedial lessons in basic interrogation techniques were long overdue. Still, I have nothing to hide – well, not i that /i much – and I actually i am /i innocent of the crime under investigation, so I say, "I am familiar with him, of course. We were in the same year at Hogwarts and he was one of my partner Harry's oldest and dearest friends, though that friendship has not been as close in recent years."

"Anything else?"

I frown artfully and say, "Well, of course, I have seen him on the social scene. He is a member of one of our world's most prominent Light families. My partner and I do get invited to balls, parties and the like quite regularly. I have run into Weasley on occasions like that. Please, don't ask me to try and name them all just now. My memory for those occasions is a tad vague at times."

A subtle way to say that on many of these occasions I was actually either pissed or b so /b stoned that it required Harry safely escorting me home to make sure I got there in one piece.

"I may choose to come back to this question at a later date, Mr. Malfoy. Is that all right with you?"

I find this so tedious, so I just sigh and say, "If you must."

"Where were you at the time of the murder, Mr. Malfoy, and can anybody corroborate this information?"

I inwardly wince. "Well, as I don't know i exactly /i when Weasley was murdered, I can't be precise. I was shopping for a good proportion of the day in Diagon Alley as I needed some truly unique fabrics for my designer Frederico to work with, in order for something to be ready for the Harvest Ball."

"I was in the Leaky Cauldron for part of the day too; I was meeting up with an old friend from school. We catch up about once every month or so."

In other words, I thought silently, Blaise and I meet up and fuck each other silly for an afternoon or night, but be damned if I'm going to tell you that in an official statement that Harry might get to see.

"And can anyone corroborate any of this, Mr. Malfoy? What is the name of your school friend?" repeated the Basher woman.

I outwardly wince now. Play to all your advantages. That was what I had been taught. I'll have to use every bit of wiliness and craft that I know to give myself any added protection I can. "If at all possible, I'd like to keep the name of my friend out of things. They are a former Slytherin student, and, while on the Light side during the war, they have still not escaped the stigma of their 'Dark' family members."

"I do have an alibi, though. The trouble is that I doubt you will find it easy to get them to admit to having seen me. You see, I did sort of run in to my father, Lucius Malfoy, when out shopping. We didn't speak, nor did he acknowledge the nod of greeting I gave him, then again, he never does. It's been years since he disinherited me."

"You can always i try /i getting him to admit to having seen me… I wish you the best of luck in that endeavour."

Chief Investigator Basher sighed feelingly, and it spoke volumes as to her thoughts on that idea.

"Do you have access to either satin rope or a small dagger?"

I laugh aloud and then quickly apologise before I get the harridan too ticked off at me. "Dear lady, I am a pureblood male. Your family is pureblood yourself… you know what every male is given as a gift on their seventeenth birthday. Add to that, that I have collected daggers ever since, and I cannot possibly say 'no' to that question."

"As for the satin rope…" Here I flash my patented sexy grin that held me in such good stead at Hogwarts and said, "Yes… and if you truly want to know exactly i why /i Harry and I have satin rope in a drawer in our bedroom, I i will /i tell you." That, of course, is wishful thinking. It was only that one time that we ever used the rope, which was a pity. Basher didn't need to know that, though.

I laugh inwardly when Basher clearly blanches white in horror at the thought and she quickly moves onwards with her questioning.

"Who do you think killed him, Mr. Malfoy?"

Time to divert attention away from me. I break into the advanced techniques of my mother's training and break my excellent posture to lean forward slightly, giving the mental impression to the woman questioning me that I am about to convey a secret against my will, and say, "Well, this is all speculation, of course."

Basher mutely nods her understanding and encouragement at me.

"Going to my meeting with my old school friend, I did almost bump into another old school acquaintance in the corridor, Neville Longbottom."

"I didn't think much of it at the time, but your questioning about who might want to cause Weasley harm and how much of a relationship I had with the man i has /i brought a memory to the surface. A few weeks ago, I was at a party alone – Harry had to cancel due to some big emergency here at the Ministry that all the Aurors got called in for – and, while at the party, I overheard some rumours that Weasley might have been involved with the drugs that killed Longbottom's girlfriend… the ones that the Prophet reported were in her spiked drink."

"I have no idea if that is true or not, but I do remember that Longbottom was also at that party… and that Weasley wasn't."

Basher has her elbows resting on the table and her hands steepled together in front of her as she listens intently to what I am saying. She nods when I am done, and then says, "And one final question for you, Mr. Malfoy. How do you feel about Mr. Weasley's death?"

I sigh and lean back in my chair; my mother would have been so proud of this performance today. i I think it is good riddance to bad rubbish, but, I am not going to say that to you, you daft bint! /i

"It sounds terrible to say that I am not that upset, but I truly am not. Maybe it is a reflection of the generation I grew up in, but I have lost a lot of school acquaintances to untimely death."

"If he was an innocent victim then, of course, I hope you find the killer. If, as it is rumoured, he had a hand in that unfortunate girl's death, then he may have had a hand in others. If someone has acted in an 'eye for an eye' fashion then – while I abhor their actions as illegal and the wrong course for seeking justice – I would be lying if I did not say that some small part of me secretly applauded their will to act."

Basher nods and says, "At this time, Mr. Malfoy, I need to advise you that you are still considered a suspect in the murder of Mr. Ronald Weasley. You will be returned to the holding cells until the remainder of the initial interviews of suspects have been completed."

"At that point, I will review my findings to date and make my recommendation to the necessary justice officials of the Ministry as to whether or not I require the suspects to be held in custody."

"I have the discretion to advise for your release, and for the use of monitoring bracelets that can track your every movement and act as a port-key should the Ministry require your presence again, but, only they can authorise the use of such measures."

"Thank you for your cooperation with this interview, Mr. Malfoy. It is now concluded."

Basher left the room and I wait impatiently for the two Aurors that will escort me back to the holding cells, wondering silently about Ron Weasley. i Who killed you, you bastard? /i