Chapter 4

A letter finally came from Mr. Ollivander and it was delivered to Draco's desk. For now, he just left it there. He didn't like that this was an issue that immediately drew his attention, so he refused to acknowledge it. There were a number of other letters, most of them of more importance.

So he took his time, conducted the work he had to do and then went to lunch with an envoy from Hungary. This new role in International Co-operation suited him. It felt a little like he was growing up from his more assertive role as head auror. Politics was something he was increasingly getting better at. Lucius was the master. There was no doubt. It was a skill that was imminently useful.

The finest restaurants in London were places where politics was conducted. Pleasant conversation on the surface, but hard issues were hammered out in a deceptively polite manner. His ruthless reputation didn't do him any harm in these circles. It did mean that his companions weren't entirely comfortable around him, and that suited him just fine.

The letter back in his office was still there in the back of his mind. His pressure must have worked. It hadn't taken a great deal to make them fold. Hermione was as good as his. Well, maybe not. Ollivander wasn't a political animal, but he was a shrewd man. It could be another negotiation tactic.

After lunch was completed, he returned to his office and finally attended to the letter he'd specifically refused to acknowledge.

Unfortunately, it started, and Draco's annoyance flared. Normally he quite liked a hard negotiation, but something felt a little raw about all this. It wasn't something he particularly wanted to examine.

I cannot sell you the asset you are interested in, the slave, as it is no longer in my possession. Best wishes, Garrick Ollivander.

Draco stared at it for a moment. What did this mean? No longer in his possession? That suggested he'd sold her. It was the only way of relinquishing a possession. Unless she'd died.

Could it be that she'd died and he hadn't heard of it? Or had she taken her life? It wouldn't be the first time a mudblood slave at taken their own life. But Hermione? It wasn't like her. But then his proposition could have been that push to make her consider it. Honestly, he probably wouldn't blame her.

Had a death notice come in about her and no one had informed him? How could the death of a member of the Order of the Phoenix happen and he didn't know?

In a sense, he'd be very disappointed in her. To fell herself at the very hint of battle. It wasn't like her.

Draco left his office and went down to the Auror department.

"Mr. Herlenney," he called to one of the Aurors present. "I want to locate someone. Someone tracked."

The man stood. "Yes, of course, sir," he said and walked briskly to the map room. "Who are you inquiring about?"

"A slave by the name of Granger."

For a moment, he held his breath for any news the man had about her death. Seriously, he would rip them a new one if a member of the Order had died without him being informed. While Hermione's role and importance had been consistently downplayed since the war had been won, the fact was that she had been an enemy combatant, and they were monitored closely. Truth was they should be in Azkaban, but Lucius hadn't wanted to give them the legitimacy.

"Right," Herlenney said and worked the map. A small wooden figure was placed on a circle and a dot should appear along Diagon Alley, where she should be. For a moment, it looked as if she wasn't there, but Herlenney scanned out on the map and eventually her dot appeared like a glowing red orb over the map. "It seems she is traveling at the moment."

Herlenney had zoomed in on the part of the map where she was, and it did indeed look like she was on a road. Where was she going? What was she doing in Heresforshire? The Ollivanders had no holdings there. Then again, Garrick Ollivander had said she was no longer in his possession. Well, she wasn't dead, which meant he'd sold her. But to whom?

Why would they do this? Did she think she could escape him like this? This was definitely her doing. Ollivander wouldn't have thought of this. So what was she doing? Who had she been sold to? In Heresfordshire?

There were some possibilities, and one of them he particularly didn't like. This was a move on Hermione's part, and if it was what he suspected, then her remedy might be worse than what she was avoiding.

"I see," he finally said and left without another word. Anger coursed through him and he strode down to an apparition area and made his way to Diagon Alley. There wasn't much consideration in his actions—he just wanted answers.

The bell rung ominously over the door as he stepped inside the Ollivander shop. This was an ominous moment for Ollivander. Draco wasn't sure what he wanted to do as punishment for this, but there would have to be something.

"Mr. Ollivander," he said quietly as the man appeared with wand boxes in his hand. A fission a fear went through the old man, as it should. "You seem to have done something unfortunate."

"Uhm," the man stuttered, and he should fear. "The offer was higher."

"The offer from whom?"

"The Flint family."

Draco's suspicion was confirmed. The Flints were one of the few families he couldn't outright bully, because father needed calm agreement between the founding pureblood families. The Flints were unfortunately a part of that. That didn't mean it was impossible. Pressure could be put on, but he needed to be more careful and considered in how they achieved it.

"And what interest does the Flints have in her specifically?"

"They were looking for a slave. I will be honest, I gave her a choice of which proposal to accept, and she chose the Flints. As I said, it was a higher offer."

In his gut, he wasn't sure this was true. Marcus could have heard that he was trying to acquire the mudblood, and had specifically acted to thwart him. Marcus could always be depended on in that way. He had always been petty jealousy with him. "Is that so?"

"There was also a promise she would be well treated," Ollivander continued. His fear made his voice shaky.

"I think we both know that isn't true. The Flints have never been known to treat their slaves well. You have been lied to. Mr. Ollivander." Unless he hadn't been. This could still be Hermione's doing. Even if not, she went along with it, choosing Marcus over him. That could well be a decision she'd come to regret.

"Crucio," Draco said and Ollivander crippled over with pain. Torture was familiar to him. He didn't normally relish it, but he was angry and this man needed to be punished. Ollivander had specifically acted against him, and Draco put all his anger into the curse. Then he moved onto the shop and made an absolute mess of it. It would take them weeks to clean it up.

Essentially, though, Ollivander was no longer useful. He could do nothing to deliver Hermione to him now, so being here was a waste of time.

Anger still coursed through him as he walked down Diagon Alley. People shifted out of his way.

"Draco," a soft, lilting voice said, and Draco cursed his bad luck.

"Pansy, Daphne," he said, turning to the young ladies who stood with their recent purchases in their fine attire. Their faces were expertly made up and their hair perfect under luxurious hats. "Curious to see you here at this time of day."

The energy in his blood still wanted him to rip something apart, but here he was, faced with the leading member of the pureblood society mafia. These girls ruled the social scene. People feared them. Not him, but he had no cause to be rude to them. They were useful. If he wanted someone destroyed, Pansy was quite happy to make it happen for him without having to do anything himself. Playing social games was below him, really.

"Just sorting some business," he replied.

"All you do is work, these days. You can't work all the time, Draco." Pansy's voice had that sweet quality she used when she treated someone like an equal. They weren't equal, but Pansy liked to think so.

"It is required. Have you seen Flint lately?"

"Not for a while. Why?"

"No reason. I was just wondering what he was up to."

"He spent a bit of time in France not long ago."

"I think he's back," Daphne said. "Astoria saw him a week or so back at the Travers party. You weren't there. We missed you."

"I couldn't make it." In fact, there were few parties he'd had the inclination to make lately.

"We feel neglected," Pansy said with a pout. "Say you'll come to my party later this week."

His instinct was to say no, but he thought better of it. "As you ask so nicely, how could I refuse?"

His answer pleased her and her dark red lips spread into a smile. "Good. We'll see you there."

Draco watched them go for a moment, and Pansy would love that he watched. In reality, he was thinking about how to deal with Flint. The only places their paths crossed casually. Approaching Flint directly would be disastrous. Probably something he hoped for. The cards would be in his hand, and Draco wasn't dumb enough to put himself in that position.

This acquisition had just gotten a lot harder, but that wasn't going to stop him.