Sold-Chapter 4-Missing

By Marmalade Fever

"What do you mean they're missing?" Hermione bellowed at Professor McGonagall's head, which was poking through her fireplace.

"I know you're confused, Mrs. Malfoy, but rest assured; we are doing everything in our power to find out what happened." The now rather aged professor's face was ashen.

Hermione's pale hands shook, and Draco wasn't doing much better. Scarcely a minute ago Minerva McGonagall's head had come to inform them of the tragedy. Both Evander Malfoy and Lily Potter had mysteriously disappeared earlier that morning. There had been several witnesses. Miss Potter's friends Brenna White, Amanda Cushman, and Marian Totterall had been only a few feet away at the time of the disappearance. They had reported a strange anomaly resembling a ball of lightning that had come from the clouds and literally pushed the two children away.

"Is there anything we can do?" Draco asked, holding his wife's hand in his own in a feeble attempt to soothe her.

"Not at the moment I'm afraid, Mr. Malfoy." She turned her eyes toward him and gave a very small smile. "He's an excellent pupil, as is Miss Potter. If they're together, I'm sure that they will have the sense to seek out help."

"What do you mean? What do you think happened?" Hermione asked, gasping as she fought off her sobs.

"We just don't know yet. I'm so sorry. I'm sure Albus won't rest until he's done everything in his power to get them back…"

"And if it isn't in his power?" Draco asked, softly, his face rigid.

"Then I can only hope that they will be able to find their way back on their own."

…….

Hermione stared emotionlessly at Draco Malfoy's arrogant face. "Can you really feel so threatened by a mere child that you feel the need to flaunt your magic that way?" she asked, eying him.

Granger's cold expression was still bothering Draco. Ever since he had bid on her at the auction, her eyes had held that same haunted look. What on earth could have happened to her that would make her look so… not human. If he hadn't heard her sobs only minutes ago, he would have thought that her soul had died and that she had become a sort of shell. He chose to ignore her question. "I suppose you're confused about the subject of our apparent… courting that went on in the boy's timeline."

"Of course. Why? Do you think you can shed some light on the situation?" She looked skeptically at him, but she had never truly lost her desire to learn and expand her mind, even if her information came from less than favorable sources.

"What I'm about to say can never leave this room. Under no situation may you tell the boy."

"He has a name, Malfoy."

"True, but no child who claims our parentage deserves my recognition."

Granger huffed. "Go on. What explanation have you come up with?" It was amazing how all the scratchiness in her voice that had been so apparent only a few hours ago had dwindled away into a silky smoothness.

"In my family," Draco began, eying her, "there are certain rules about marriage that are not revealed to the children until they reach the age of twenty-five." Granger's eyebrow lifted noticeably at the word "twenty-five." "The Malfoy Marriage Contract was drawn up roughly four-hundred years ago. It states that if a Malfoy is unwed at that age, he must marry by his next birthday."

"So… you think that in this other timeline you weren't married until you turned twenty-five?" Granger asked. Draco nodded. She laughed dryly. "There must have been countless other girls. Why me?"

"Because you fit the specifications. Not married, a witch, same age, and English… You'd be surprised how much those points can narrow down the competition."

Granger laughed harder. "Trust me, I would have had to be your only choice if you decided to propose to me after only one week." She squeezed her eyes closed, her laughter echoing through the room as if she were mad.

Draco crossed his arms as he waited for her fit to subside. "That's my theory exactly."

"What?" she croaked. "You think I was really the only candidate? What about the others?"

Draco sneered. "Isn't it obvious? You were the only one left that wasn't already married!" Now it was his turn to laugh, right in her face.

Granger smirked. "You were single, too, might I add." His face twisted into a sour expression. "Evander said that you were engaged to someone name Antoine… A Frenchman?"

Draco rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but enjoy the sensation of being ahead of the game. "He was talking about Miss Antoine Bellover, renowned herbologist, and, coincidentally, named for her grandfather."

"I see." Granger held her chin in her hand, thinking. "You know her?" she asked, as she processed all of the mysterious information.

"As a matter of fact, she's my wife."

Granger's head whipped up with phenomenal speed. "You're married?" she asked.

"I was married. She died years ago."

There were a few moments of silence. "I guess it really doesn't matter much for us to know all of the details concerning the world that Evander came from, we're merely satisfying out curiosity."

"But the more we know, the closer we are to solving this."

"You broke up with me… got engaged to her… and then left her at the altar to go back to me…" Granger's eyes stayed determinedly down, and Draco was glad of it. In that brief moment, both were pondering the same thing. Was it truly possible for him to fall in love with her? All evidence pointed to yes. It sounded as if the two had dated under the pretense of an engagement, but somehow it had become more. It had become… Draco hated to think about it. The very idea that he should surrender his heart to anyone, especially a mudblood, was unthinkable.

Then another part of their courtship that the boy had mentioned floated into Draco's mind. He had kissed her only two weeks after his birthday. Physical attraction. It had always been a tricky thing. Although many who thought they new the Great Draco Malfoy believed that he was a man of less than noble character when it came to women, the truth was that he had always somewhat ignored that aspect of his being. Yes, he had dated before and after Antoine… But women had never really left him feeling out-of-control and overly desirous. Dependency on anything was a weakness. The point was that he had a great power of resistance.

So… if he had given into temptation and kissed the mudblood that early in the relationship… What did that mean?

Granger cleared her throat. "I do think we should try and figure this out as soon as possible. If Lily Potter is here, you know as well as I do that she is in grave danger."

Draco was snapped out of his dangerous thoughts and allowed himself to look at her. "It surprises me that you think I'd be willing to help Potter's daughter."

"I never said that you would be willing, but who else is there for me to send to her rescue? She'll never survive on her own."

"And this concerns me why?"

"Think Malfoy. Think. Don't you think that that ball of electricity that just so happened to transport them here is suspicious? Obviously, someone sent them here."

Comprehension spread over Draco's face, but then he frowned. "If someone wanted them here, then why did I find him in a random wing in Malfoy Manor? Wouldn't they have been sent to the one who cast the spell?"

Granger was silent. It was obvious that she was growing very tired. "I don't think Evander is supposed to be here."

"That's a little obvious, Granger."

"No, I mean that they didn't mean to bring him here, just her…" She zoned out, staring pointedly at a space over his shoulder. "I need you to bring me a few things."

"What could you possibly need?" Draco crossed his arms. He had forgotten how irritating she could be when she was engrossed in a mental project.

"Parchment, a quill, any books you can find on dimensional rifts, a ball… a quaffle would work… and two clothespin sized dolls." Draco stared at her, frowning. "And a very detailed map of Malfoy Manor and the surrounding area."

A.N. I'm sleepy. I'm going to post this before I start snoozing over the keyboard. I'm going to try and get another chapter up on Sunday. After that I'm afraid I'll be having more difficulty finding computer free-time to write, as I always do during the holidays.