Disclaimer; I own nothing.
The Lambs are Screaming;(based on you know what)
Behavioral Science, Auror's section at the Ministry that deals with serial murder, is on the bottom floor along with the Auror Academy of London, half buried in earth. Hermione Granger reached it flushed after a fast walk from the practice range. She had grass in her hair and grass stains on her Auror Academy cloak from diving to the ground under a fired spell in an arrest problem on the range.
No one was in the outer office, so she fluffed briefly by her reflection in the glass doors. Her hands smelled of sweat and grime, but there was no time to wash-Section Chief Finnigan's summons had said now.
She found Seamus Finnigan alone in the cluttered suite of offices. He was standing at someone else's desk giving a note to an impatient owl and she had a chance to look him over for the first time since she graduated Hogwarts (which was three years ago). What she saw disturbed her.
Normally, Seamus looked fit, handsome, and proud. Now he was thin, his shirt collar was too big, and he had dark puffs under his reddened eyes. Everyone who could read the papers new the Ministry was catching hell. Hermione hoped Seamus wasn't on the justice. That seemed most unlikely here.
Seamus ended his message and handed to the frustrated owl. He took her file from under his arm and opened it.
"Granger, Hermione, good morning," he joked.
"Hello." Her smile was warm and polite.
"Nothing's wrong. I hope the call didn't spook you."
"No." Not entirely true, Hermione thought.
"Your instructors tell me you're doing well Hermione, top of your class, not surprised."
"I hope so, they haven't posted anything."
"I ask them from time to time."
That surprised Hermione; she had written Seamus off as a two-faced sergeant son of a bitch since school.
She had met Special Auror Finnigan at Hogwarts. She had not once seen him serious during school. But when he graduated, things changed.
Hermione came from people who do not ask for favors or press for friendship, but she was puzzled and regretful at Seamus's behavior. Now, in his presence, she liked him, she was sorry to note.
Clearly something was wrong with him. There was a peculiar cleverness in Seamus, aside from his hidden intelligence, and Hermione had first noticed it in his color sense and the textures of his clothing, even within the auror-clone standards of dress. Now he was neat but drab, as though he were molting.
"A job came up and I thought about you," he explained.
"It's not really a job, it's more of an interesting errand. Push Ron's stuff off that chair, he's such a slob. Sit. You put down here that you want directly to behavioral science when you get through the Academy. Just like I did, ha, funny."
"I do."
"You have a lot of forensics, but no law enforcement background. We look for six years minimum."
Seamus smiled a bit.
"What you do have is a double major in psychology and criminology, and how many summers working in the mental health ward of St. Mungo's?"
"Two."
"Your counselor's license, is it current?"
"It's good for another two years. I got it before I decided to do this."
"You got stuck in the hiring freeze."
Hermione nodded.
"I was lucky though, I found out in time to qualify as a Forensic Fellow. Then I could work in the lab until the Academy had an opening."
"You owled me about coming here, didn't you? And I don't thing I answered- I know I didn't. I should have."
"You've had plenty else to do, Seamus," Hermione stated sympathetically.
"Do you know about VI-CAP?"
"I know it's the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program. The Law Enforcement Bulletin
says you're working on gathering data, but you aren't operational yet."
Seamus nodded.
"We've developed a questionnaire. It applies to all the known serial murderers and Death Eaters in modern times."
He handed her a thick sheaf of papers in a flimsy binding.
"There's a section for investigating aurors, and one for surviving victims, if any. The blue is for the killer to answer if he will, and the pink is a series of questions an examiner asks the killer, getting his reactions as well as his answers. It's a lot of paperwork and reading."
Paperwork and reading. Hermione Granger's self-interest snuffled ahead like a keen beagle. She smelled a job offer coming-probably the drudgery of feeding raw data into a new information system. It was tempting to get into Behavioral Science to a woman if she's ever pegged as secretary-it sticks until the end of time, and Hermione Granger was no secretary. A choice was coming, and she wanted to choose well.
Seamus was waiting for something-he must have asked her a question. Hermione had to scramble to recall it:
"What tests have you given?"
He was talking about muggle testing.
"'Bout everything."
He smirked, "of course, you're Hermione Granger. Do you spook easily Granger?"
"Not yet. I've survived Voldemort."
"Seem we've tried to interview and examine all the thirty-two known serial murderers we have in custody, to build up a database for psychological reasons in unsolved cases. Most of them went along with it-I think they're driven to show off, how they served the "Dark Lord" Twenty-seven were willing to cooperate. Four waiting for the dementor's kiss with appeals pending clammed up, understandably. But the one we want most, we haven't been able to get. I want you to go after him tomorrow in Azakaban."
Hermione Granger felt a glad knocking in her chest and some apprehension too.
"Who's the subject, Seamus?"
"The psychiatrist, pureblood, and of course Granger, Potter's best friend-Draco Malfoy."
A brief silence followed the name. Hermione looked at Seamus steadily, but she was too still.
"Draco Malfoy," she whispered.
"Yes." Seamus replied grimly.
"Yes-well, Okay, right. I'm glad of the chance, but you have to know I'm wondering, why me? I mean you know I hate him. I know we hate him."
"Mainly because you're available, Granger. I don't expect hime to cooperate, being the haughty bastard that he is. He's already refused, but it was through an intermediary-the director of the hospital. Another friend, Zacharias Smith.
Seamus rolled his eyes, Hermione followed.
He continued.
"I have to be able to say our qualified examiner went to him and asked him personally. There are reasons that don't concern you. I don't have anybody left in this section to do it."
You're jammed on him, and the things in London." Hermione stated.
"You got it. It's the old story-not enough warm bodies."
"You said tomorrow-you're in a hurry. Any bearings on a current case?" Hermione asked.
"No, I wish there were." He sighed.
"If he ignores me, do you still want a psychological evaluation?"
"No. I'm waist deep in inaccessible-patient evaluations of Draco Malfoy and they're all different."
"But Seamus, I knew part of him."
"Yes, but not the whole. It's ridiculous, you know; Malfoy's a pshychiatrist and he writes for the psychiatric journals himself-extraordinary stuff. Who knew he was a mad genius. He's pretended to go along with the Hospital director, Smith, once in some tests-sitting around with a blook-pressure cuff on his cock, looking at wreck pictures-then Malfoy published first what he'd learned about Smith and made a fool out of him. He responds to serious correspondence from psychiatric students in fields unrelated to his case, and that's all he does, well, I bet he still dreams about all those girls he shagged in Hogwarts too. If he won't talk to you, I just want straight reporting. How does he look, how does his cell look, what's he doing. Local color, so to speak. Watch out for the press going in and coming out. Not the real press, the supermarket press. They Malfoy more then they do Harry Potter."
"Didn't a sleazo magazine offer him fifty thousand galleons to tell them his past? I seem to remember he refused, it's not like Malfoy's poor."
Seamus nodded. "I'm pretty sure the Quibbler has bought somebody inside Azakaban and they may know you're coming after I make the appointment."
Seamus leaned forward until he faced her at a distance of two feet. He had recently used Listerine.
"Now, I want your full attention, Hermione. Are you listening to me?"
"Yes sir."
"Be very careful with Draco Malfoy. Smith, the head of Azakaban, will go over the physical procedure you use to deal with him. Don't deviate from it. Do not deviate from one rule for any reason." If Malfoy talks to you at all, he'll just be trying to find out about your life today. It's the kind of curiosity that makes a snake look in a lion's den. We both know you have to back-and-forth a little in interviews, but you tell him no specifics about yourself. You don't want any of your personal facts in his head. You know what he did to Hannah Abbott."
"I read it somewhere."
"He messed with her mind until she went completely mad. Do your job, just don't ever forget what he is."
"And what's that? Do you know a word?"
"I know he's a cocky, smart, bastard. Beyond that, nobody can say for sure. Maybe you'll find out; I didn't pick you out of a hat, Granger. You asked me a couple of interesting questions when we were young. The Director will see your own report over your signature-if it's clear and tight and organized, which it will be. I decide that. And I will have it by 0900 Sunday. Okay, Granger, carry on in the prescribed manner."
Seamus smiled at her, but his eyes were dead.