Chapter Thirteen Wands and Warnings

Things settled back into their established routine. Harry was going to have another attempt at Yaxley and Rookwood in hopes that one might crack or let something useful slip. Hermione had muttered something about an idea regarding the wand that had killed the victims and had hurried down to the morgue to test her theory without explaining it. Harry had given her that area of the investigation to prevent her from going insane trying to find information out about curing the Mark, and Draco forced himself to check through the reports from Potter's investigation teams to see if there were any clues specific to the Death Eaters they were searching for, having concluded all possible research into numbers and runes with little information to further their knowledge about the pattern of the victims.

Draco felt worse than the previous day, even with the help of the hangover potion. Usually a night out with Blaise and bedding a woman he would never have to see again were something of a pick-me-up, and had been his favoured method of stress release in the early years of establishing his potions businesses. Now, however, he simply felt washed out. He had been too drunk the previous night to really remember much, and even if it had he felt certain that he hadn't really enjoyed it. He had gone through the motions, expecting the load on his shoulders to be lifted if he just kept going, for the blissful weightlessness to kick in if only he could push his tired, strung out body far enough, but no matter how many drinks he had downed, no matter how many kisses he'd stolen on the dance floor, or how enthusiastically the witch had fallen into bed with him, nothing had made him feel better. If anything it had added another weight to the burden, and that made him uncomfortable.

Hermione came up from the morgue shortly before lunch, glowing with excitement. The change in her expression was enough to alert both men instantly.

"We've found a difference."

She turned to the drawers and opened them. In one was the man with the E carved into his chest from the first group murder, and in the other was Mr Parkinson, also with an E. Hermione gave Draco an apologetic glance that slid off him.

With the bodies side by side it became clear what the difference was. In the Bulgarian, the letter was comparatively shallow, about two inches deep, and extremely wide. The skin and flesh along the sides of the gouge were tattered as though roughly torn. The cuts made to Mr Parkinson were different. Slimmer, twice as deep, almost severing the entire way through his chest, and the incisions were neat.

"Was it a different spell?" Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. "Definitely the same spell. We just have no idea which one. We've tested all the known severing and gouging spells, but it's none of them – it'll be one of the ancient torture curses, I expect. But the same one was used both times – the emanation is the same. The one used in the first group murder was less controlled – almost…raw. The one in the second group murder was directed. It could be a difference in the caster."

"So we may have more than one murderer." Harry's heart dropped.

"We'll have to run some more tests," Hermione said quickly. "It could also be that they didn't have the hang of the spell to begin with, and their technique was sloppy. We just don't know yet. There's no point in jumping to conclusions."

Harry nodded, calming his thudding heart.

Hermione shut the drawers then glanced at Malfoy. "Do you feel up to training?"

Draco swallowed slightly, but stood up, resolute. "I'll be fine."

Hermione shot him a concerned glance as he marched to the door, giving Harry a raised eyebrow, but Harry shrugged.

"So, have you thought anymore about what I asked?" Hermione called as she dodged the stunning spell Malfoy had sent in her direction.

She had cast a disillusionment charm over herself today to train Draco's eye for spotting people disguised under the charm, and the S.T.E. had provided them with a forest filled with shifting dappled shadows for added difficulty.

Confusion flushed through Draco, cooling him despite the heat from his exertions. Granger didn't make finding her easy, and she ran like a deer. He hadn't really expected that what with the amount of time she had seemed to spend in the library in school. "What did you ask?"

"About talking to your parents," Hermione called, ducking behind a tree as she spoke for added camouflage. "In my letter."

"Ah." Draco's mind drifted to the crumpled page in the bin under his desk at home, a vision of his father's enraged face rising in his mind.

Hermione could hear the reticence in Malfoy's voice. "You think it's a bad idea?" She dodged the Body-Bind curse he flashed around the trunk.

That's one way of putting it… "Well…my mother might meet you, although I can't make any undertaking for her behaviour," he said slowly, pausing as he rushed up to her previous hiding place as quietly as possible. "Impedimenta! But my father…"

Hermione had felt the wave of Malfoy's jinx ruffle her hair, and popped out from behind the shrub she had hidden behind, meeting his eyes. "Doesn't like me? I understand."

"Well there is that as well," Draco muttered, his wand dropping to his side.

Hermione chuckled. "I guess they're still fairly upset that I interrupted your night at the opera on Saturday."

Draco shifted uncomfortably. The incident at the opera certainly hadn't warmed his parents to her, but there was more than that after the argument. And he could hardly tell her that his father's blood prejudices were as deeply ingrained as ever, whatever he might threaten.

Hermione shook her head. "That's fine. It can wait – I have enough to work with for the moment. All right, that's enough for today." She rapped herself on the head, and the charm trickled off. "You've got a good eye for spotting, Malfoy."

Draco allowed a faint grin. "Yeah, well, if you're going to make it easier for me running around all the time," he smirked.

Hermione rolled her eyes, flicking her wand so the simulation faded. "Variety is the spice of life, don't you know, Malfoy?"

Draco smirked, "What would you know about that? All you do is work."

Hermione snorted. "From what I can see that's all you do too."

Draco rolled his eyes. "That's all you know. I thought you were past judging books by their covers, Granger." His grin met hers, and a faint thrill ran thorough him.

Hermione tilted her head slightly in deference to his words. "Of course – I forgot your hangover this morning. Have fun did you?" she shot him a sly glance, grinning.

Draco's face twisted at the memory, and he shook his head with an expression of chagrin. "Not in the slightest."

Hermione laughed. Draco stared at her; he didn't think he'd ever made Granger laugh before. He rather liked the sound. Her eyes crinkled up at the corners, and her cheeks rose until they were almost shut, just twinkling lines, her nose wrinkling slightly at the bridge. The expression suited her. Even more so when he was the cause of it.

He wondered idly whether he would have enjoyed last night if she'd been the one he'd spent it with. He certainly wouldn't have gotten drunk enough to forget it. Merlin, no; he wouldn't want to forget that. He allowed himself a faint grin in response to the twinkle-eyed smile she was still giving him.

"Herm-own-ninny."

Draco's smile faded, replaced with an expression of shuttered anger.

Krum walked across the arena towards them, eyeing Hermione's attire with confusion and a faintly appreciative look that Draco didn't like. He had to admit she did look good in the ridiculous Muggle getup. In spite of himself, he couldn't help but appreciate her figure when they sparred, revealed as it was by the clinging outfit. She was fit. Really fit. She was still smaller than him, but he she was fast on her feet, and he knew from experience that she had a strong right hook – probably from carrying all those books. She was a bit curvier than she had been when they were at school – either because she had grown up or because under the swamping of their uniforms it was impossible to tell – and her wild hair had been tamed, to a degree. What was more, the sweat glistening on her skin as it did by the end of their more active sessions really didn't detract from her appeal.

"Viktor," Hermione smiled, "it's not lunch already?"

"Vun o'clock."

"Sorry."

Krum waved away the apology, his eyes settling on Malfoy. The two men sized one another up, verging on glaring while Hermione was distracted with making herself presentable again, transfiguring her training gear back into her usual work attire.

"How did you get in here?" Draco demanded. "The Auror Training Facility is protected."

"Potter let me in," Krum answered coldly. He glanced at Hermione, extending an arm to her. "Are you ready, Herm-own-ninny?"

Hermione nodded. "See you later, Malfoy," she smiled over Krum's protective arm.

Draco jerked his chin in acknowledgement, watching as they left up the spiral staircase before he stalked out himself.


"I do not like the vay he looks at you," Krum muttered, staring at his half eaten steak.

Hermione frowned. "Who?"

"Malfoy."

Hermione's expression cleared and she laughed. "He glares at everyone, Viktor."

"Except you."

"What?" Hermione stopped eating to look at Viktor, genuinely confused. "How do you mean?"

Krum shifted a little, his expression surly, but didn't seem about to explain his enigmatic statement. "Just do not let your guard down. His father vos a Death Eater, his mother helped them, and he vos vun too. You can never be too careful around Dark vizards."

"Viktor," Hermione's tone was ameliorating. "He let me use Legilimency on him. Malfoy is trustworthy. He's just…" she cast about for a word that would fit the man, "detached…and odd." Her mind returned to that odd sense of comradeship that had risen up once more when they were training. And yet he had been cold the moment Viktor arrived. Almost like the Malfoy from school. She began eating again. "He probably thinks it's risky letting you know so much about the case and resents your being let in on things without having to sign a contract or anything."

Krum's mood lightened a little. "Did he sign vun of your contracts?"

Hermione nodded.

"And nothing happened to him?"

"Nothing."

Krum grunted looking a little disappointed.

Hermione laughed. "I wouldn't have trusted him as much as I do if I hadn't seen into his mind, Viktor. I completely understand where you're coming from though – especially as Malfoy's not exactly the most welcoming of people. Just…try to ignore him. It's not for long."

"And vot about vot he and his family did to you? I haff not forgotten vot you told me." Krum's stern expression softened with his concern.

Hermione sighed at that. "I've forgiven him."

Krum blinked in surprise.

"I can't hold him accountable for what his family did to me. And yes, he hurt me – I'm not denying that, and he was completely horrible when we were kids. But…I understand his side of it. And while I don't agree with the reasoning, I can't condemn him for it. It's better for me to move on."

Krum pursed his lips, returning to his steak.

After a few minutes he set down his knife and fork again.

"Come back to Bulgaria vith me."

Hermione frowned, looking up at the seriousness of his tone. "Viktor… I'm sorry, but I don't think –"

"No," Krum interrupted, "as a friend. I do not like you being here, Herm-own-ninny. Alone in your house. Not vith this murderer loose. You said Muggle-borns vere targets for them. You are not safe. You vould be safe in Bulgaria. You could stay as long as you needed. You said you vould like to come back sometime – and it is nearly vinter. You vould love Christmas there."

Hermione's expression creased with a sad smile. "I'm touched, Viktor, truly. But you know I can't possibly do that. And I do want to come back to Bulgaria to see you again, just…not now. Maybe if I wasn't involved on the case, but I am involved. I can't just leave Harry and Malfoy to do it alone. It's not fair to them, it's not fair to the wizarding community, and it goes against my own convictions."

Krum's expression told her that he had known she would say this already. "It vos vorth a try."

He smiled ruefully, and she returned it.

Krum's smile was short lived, however as he sighed. "I vorry about you, Herm-own-ninny."

She reached out to take his hand. "There's no need to. I've seen worse than this, remember."

Krum frowned. "That is vot makes me vorry. You haff got to be careful. Just because you haff seen vurse than this does not mean it is not dangerous. I know you can handle yourself, but do not take unnecessary risks."

"I will be careful. Harry's the impulsive one." Hermione smiled hopefully.

Krum caved, and gave her the hint of a smile back. "Very vell. But only because you give me no other option."

Hermione grinned.


Draco spent the rest of the day huffing – even after Granger returned, going straight back down to the morgue to continue working on the bodies with several texts of cutting spells.

He'd barely acknowledged her return, eager at first to see that she was back, keenly analysing her for signs of a blooming romance between her and Krum, bitter but relieved when she seemed only to be happy, brushing off her cheerful hello when she noticed his eyes on her.

Hermione had shot Harry a confused glance, but he had shrugged, just as nonplussed as her by Malfoy's fluctuating behaviour, but now used to it, and well aware that little good would come of prying into his business.

Hermione put the issues to one side. She suspected it was entirely to do with resentment of Viktor's presence that changed Malfoy's mood so dramatically, and that she could live with. Viktor would be returning to Bulgaria the next day, and then things in the office would be back to normal, and Malfoy could return to being slightly less standoffish. The mystery solved, she focused instead on trying to determine whether the gouges on the bodies had been created by the same caster, pleased to at last be making some sort of headway, although the unfinished work on the Mark niggled at her.

That area of her investigation had stalled somewhat. Having scoured all the Dark texts she could get her hands on for clues or hints of information, first about how the Mark was cast and who might cast it, and then about how such a spell might be created, she had moved on to trying to reverse engineer the curse. She had drawn up several theoretical methods of how Voldemort might have fashioned the spell, but was reluctant to test them, well aware of the dangers involved in testing out new spells, particularly ones so Dark in nature.

Leaving her ideas to one side, she had moved on to looking at the reverse side of magic. Malfoy had provided her with an extensive list of treatments and cures that he had attempted, and they varied from Dark and questionable magic to very ancient light magic that was of a similar ilk to the sacrificial charm Harry's mother had invoked to protect Harry from Voldemort. She hadn't read much in the area, and was still in the process of sourcing the books, relieved at last to be leaving behind curses that caused bone degeneration or burst open the ventricles of the heart, even if it was only temporarily.

She very much hoped that something in that brand of good magic would be the key to reversing the Mark, as by all accounts attempting to curse off the brand had not worked for Malfoy. She was reluctant to think of the lengths he had gone to while scanning the lists he had provided, which included the experience and effects of each attempt, even the most excruciating written out in detached detail. It made her look at him with a new respect that was mixed with an edge of concern. He clearly had no desire to retain his Mark, but his wish to remove it had taken him to terrifying extremes, and she could only wonder at how high his pain threshold was.


They all worked late that night again. Harry had been taken off by some Aurors on another case involving what appeared to be a magical break-in at Gringotts, Draco was looking into a lead that had been turned in by one of the investigation teams about a sighting of a man who might have been Rodolphus Lestrange in Yorkshire without much hope of his uncle actually being so stupid, and Hermione was yet to resurface from the morgues.

Harry returned, weary from negotiating with the goblins, and without any conclusive evidence of the break-in. It seemed that one of the old vaults had been disturbed, but the goblins insisted that there were no signs of a forced entry and had resolutely refused any interference from the Aurors. Harry suspected that they still resented the fact that he had been involved in the break-in to the Lestrange's vault back in ninety-eight, but that was to be expected. The Goblins didn't forget such things, and they were even less likely to forgive.

"Hermione still around?"

Draco nodded, forcing his eyes open.

Harry bobbed his head silently, taking a seat and closing his eyes for a moment. Dealing with goblins was always trying.

"Does she ever take a break?" Draco asked wearily in an attempt to remain conscious, turning a page.

Harry mustered a chuckle. "Not really. I'm pretty sure if it wasn't compulsory to take leave she'd completely forget to have holidays."

"But why? I mean, I'm used to long hours, but this…"

Harry shrugged. "Hermione genuinely enjoys learning…working hard provides that. And when something hooks her emotionally as well as intellectually she finds it impossible to let go." Harry sighed a little. "In the wrong job I don't think she would be able to apply herself so rigorously though. It's part of the reason why she changed to our department. She felt she'd done all she could in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

Draco nodded. It made sense. He'd thrown everything he had into starting his businesses and he'd genuinely enjoyed it. He wasn't so sure if he could do the same for everything though.

The grating of the concealed lift in Harry's filing cabinets sounded, and a few moments later the front swung open to reveal Hermione, who scrambled out.

"Oh good, I thought you might not still be here." She looked a little nervous, and dithered on the spot for a moment before going to perch on the edge of her desk, a stack of scrolls behind her teetering precariously.

Harry watched her closely. "News?"

"Mm." Hermione picked at some lint on her robes, then took a breath, forcing her hands to still in her lap. "The spell was cast by the same person," she began slowly, her eyes fixed on her fingernails.

"But?" Harry prompted, sensing there was more.

Hermione pursed her lips, then met Harry's gaze very directly. "The first time it was wandless magic."

There was a silence.

Harry and Draco's faces had drained of blood.

"So we're dealing with an extremely advanced practitioner of magic then," Harry said lowly when his voice returned to him. He didn't even bother to dispute the knowledge. Hermione would never impart such information lightly or without thoroughly testing it beforehand. "I guess that was always on the cards."

Hermione took a breath. "Or a child," she said quietly.

Harry and Draco's heads shot up to stare at her, nonplussed.

"That's not possible," Harry refuted instantly.

"I hope it's not," Hermione replied roughly, her calm demeanour cracking slightly. "I really hope it's not a child who's doing this, because Merlin knows what would have to be done to them to go on a homicidal killing spree." Her voice caught with the hiccup of a sob, and the men briefly contemplated her words. It didn't bear thinking about.

"It's not a child," Harry said, decisively this time.

"Harry you can't just rule it out like that," Hermione argued brokenly, visibly fighting tears now.

Draco watched, silent and shocked, some part of him rebelling at the idea of Granger crying. She was always so strong, and the last time he had seen her in tears was on the floor of the Manor. Her tears brought back only dark memories for him.

Hermione hadn't finished however. "I don't want to think it possible as much as you don't, but that doesn't mean we can just shut our eyes to it."

"I'm not shutting my eyes, Hermione," Harry said patiently. "You're forgetting the Dark Marks. There's no way a child would be able to cast them – or to know how to cast them. They'd need a wand – and a child young enough to use wandless magic wouldn't have a wand. Even if they did, how could they possibly have the strength to cast the spell?"

"And what if there was an adult helping them?"

Harry shook his head. "No, Hermione. I know I said I'd be open minded with the case, and you've done an extraordinary job finding this information out, but no. This is going too far. If it was a damaged child, why would an adult – presumably a Death Eater – team up with them? What purpose would it serve? They would have to Imperius the child, and take them away from their parents without anyone noticing for several months. Even if they obliviated the parents there would be the relations, neighbours, friends. It's not possible. No one would go to that much trouble just to use a child to kill people. There are easier ways of concealing your identity."

Hermione calmed as Harry spoke, a weight visibly lifting from her. "Sorry, Harry," she muttered, sniffing strongly. "I…"

"You were concerned," Harry said kindly. "That's perfectly natural. You're tired, Hermione; go home, and get some rest."

Hermione shook her head, rallying. "That's not all, Harry." Her eyes flickered to Draco for a moment before returning to her hands, her fingers tangling once more. "The cuts…they feel…very similar to mine." She gestured reluctantly towards the arm Bellatrix had carved into. "The ones on the second group more so than the first." The words came out as a miserable whisper. "I had the Squad test my scars to be sure."

Harry and Draco exchanged concerned glances.

"That's not possible, Granger. She's dead." Draco spoke adamantly. There was no way Bellatrix could have returned. None of Voldemort's followers had known about his horcruxes – there was no way his aunt could have made one. He himself hadn't even found out about them until he'd talked to Potter.

"But it's so similar," Hermione lifted her head, staring directly into Malfoy's eyes, her own faintly begging. "I've used her wand – I know how it feels…and the cuts in those bodies are next to identical."

Draco moved to take her firmly by the upper arms, unaware that he had stood and crossed the room to her until she was before him, some instinct telling him she needed him to shake her out of it. "She's dead, Granger. Dead. And she had no way of coming back – none at all. Do you understand me?"

Hermione stared into his eyes, silvery grey and intense, their message boring into her. He seemed inordinately steady in that moment, perhaps not a shoulder to cry on, but certainly a rock to cling to. She let out a sigh that took with it her anxieties, and nodded. "Thank you," she murmured, dropping her eyes.

Draco regarded her for a moment longer, then released her, taking a measured step back and glancing at the thoughtful looking Potter.

"We should still investigate it," Harry said firmly.

"What?" Draco couldn't believe his ears.

"We should, Malfoy. A wand similar to Bellatrix's in the hands of the murderer might produce a similar effect. It would certainly help us narrow down our suspects if we had their wand specifications – we'll probably even be able to get a list of owners. We'll speak with Ollivander tomorrow morning – early, before the shops open. Just to confirm the wandlore."

Draco forced a breath out through his nose, frowning with disapproval, but nodded curtly.

Harry moved to hug Hermione. "You did well. Really well. We haven't had an advance like this in the case for ages. It might be a turning point."

Hermione mustered a tired smile.

"Go home, Hermione. Rest. We'll be starting early tomorrow."

Hermione nodded. Her whole body had been wailing to go to bed the entire day, it had only been will power and Girding Potions that had kept her on her feet this long.

"Night, Harry…Malfoy." She waved her wand tiredly at her things. The books and papers slithered half-heartedly towards her bag, which flopped open onto the floor.

"I'll do it," Draco brushed past Granger before she could try again, scooping up her bag in one hand and waving his wand firmly at her things, sending them neatly into it.

"Thanks." Hermione reached for the strap in Malfoy's hand, but he pulled back.

"You can barely keep yourself upright, Granger. Take this bag and you'll collapse. I'll take it back to yours with you."

His tone brooked no argument, and Hermione was too tired to dissent or wonder at his behaviour. She simply nodded.

A wave to Harry, and a brisk nod from Draco, and they stepped together into the office fire, spinning towards Hermione's home.


"Thanks, Draco, you really didn't need to." Hermione fought not to simply collapse onto the sofa. With the fire burning the warmth and the half-light of her front room made the settee look extremely inviting.

"It's nothing," he replied shortly. Draco eyed her. She'd used his first name again. She was probably too tired to realise what came out of her mouth.

He glanced around, looking for signs of Krum, but the Bulgarian didn't seem to have made his mark on Granger's home. Good.

"Where's Krum?" he struggled to keep the antagonism out of his tone.

"In bed asleep if he has any sense," Hermione replied sleepily, trying to decide on whether she'd put her shower off till the morning, which would mean waking up early, or try to stay awake long enough to do it now.

Draco grunted in response, struggling not to consider whether Granger would have used enlargement charms to accommodate guest rooms in the tiny house. "Where do you want this?" he dangled the bag at her.

"Hm? Oh…somewhere. Anywhere will do."

Draco cast about, and put the heavy bag on the armchair nearest him. He turned back to the fire and Granger. "Well. I'll be going then." He could hear the faint reticence in his tone and hoped she was too tired to notice it.

"Mm," Hermione regarded him through half lidded eyes, smiling slightly. The firelight warmed his face, bringing more colour into it. It was quite odd seeing him tinted amber. "Good night, Draco."

Draco stared at her intently. "Good night…Hermione." Then he threw Floo powder into the flames, and was gone.


As promised, one chapter, delivered early in April!

So things are starting to move along a bit! Hehehe. I do love the ending of this one! But let's do this chronologically.

The training session. OMG Draco just think the thoughts already! You fancy her. Of course, our Draco is a silly boy and realising something as obvious as that right now is as likely as him and Krum getting married.

And speaking of Krum... Oooooh that timing! Nothing like a bit of sort of cock-blocking amirite?
I do love Viktor though. My cinnamon roll 3 Sure he likes Hermione, but he genuinely does want the best for her, tender feelings aside. Such a sweetheart. And LOOOOL for Draco's continued jealousy.

And what did you all think of Hermione's little break through? The fear of it being a child... And what about that Bellatrix possibility, eh? Do I hear the gears in your brains whirring with theories?

And of course. Draco. Being a darling 3

I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I (obviously) did!

Please do review and/or favourite :) Tell me what you like or don't like :) Questions and speculations are always welcome :D As is incomprehensible flailing if that's what you go in for :)

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