"All right there Malfoy?"
Draco tore the Cloak off and threw it on Potter's desk.
"You certainly took your time. Did you need to speak with that insipid witch for so long?"
Potter shrugged, apparently without a care as to whether Draco melted into the floor while he listened to some old lady blather on about Celestina Warbeck's latest album.
"If I didn't stop and chat with Mabel she would have followed me and asked a million questions. Trust me, that was quick for her."
Draco sat in the chair behind the desk and ignored the raised eyebrow from Potter at his audacity to do so without permission.
"Well? Off you go, Granger's given you the list of what I need." Draco made a shooing motion in his direction.
"God knows what she sees in you," Potter grumbled. "This could take some time so wait here," he added unnecessarily and left, closing the door with a snap.
Finally.
Draco snatched the Cloak back up and ignored the mixing rush of guilt and adrenaline that now coursed through him.
Because Draco had lied.
He had absolutely no intention of waiting for Potter to return with stacks of files.
The employment history and records would help paint a picture, sure.
But the hard evidence would be found in Robards' office. Theo had seen with his own eyes the report Filagree used to communicate with his DMLE source.
Therefore it stood to reason that Robards would have complementary leverage. And if Draco happened to successfully liberate this from the Head Auror's office and pass it along to Granger and Sterling, then they'd have something more tangible to stick to the bastard.
It might mean some legal consequences for Draco, but he'd worry about that later.
Draco threw the Cloak back over his body, indulging in a begrudging silent compliment for the garment. It truly was a magnificent magical artefact, and if the rumours were true, Draco had now come in contact with two of three of the Deathly Hallows in his lifetime. He also bitterly thought about how easy it must have been for Potter to roam the halls of Hogwarts at night, given this unfair advantage.
Draco edged down the halls of the DMLE, only having two close calls with a pair of interns heatedly debating proper filing procedure and another pair of Aurors escorting a suspect in between them.
Draco made it to the corner office, the name in gold-plated letters inscribed on the door: Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Gawain Robards.
And then Draco waited. And waited. When twenty minutes had passed with no movement whatsoever, he resorted to his backup plan to get into the office without performing spellwork of the breaking-and-entering variety.
The last time he'd used Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, he'd been a terrified yet determined Sixth Year student performing a planned act in the service of the Dark Lord to save his parents.
Now he was a slightly less terrified, less morally compromised adult about to perform a rash act in service to Hermione Granger and his newfound conscience to save his two friends and possibly dozens of prisoners.
What a life he led.
He tossed the handful of powder he'd brought a little ways down the hall, then sent some sparks and a little clicking noise out of the end of his wand.
He waited again. Though this time, results took roughly thirty seconds. Voices near the disturbance cried out in alarm and the door to Robards' office flew open with a bang.
Draco slipped inside, the door shutting naturally behind him. He removed the Cloak but kept it close, unsure of how much time he'd have alone.
It was a spacious office, and well-maintained. Towering cabinets lined one wall, no doubt filled with case files from decades of service to the Ministry. The walls showed the decorated career of a devoted government agent. Commendations from several Ministers. Certificates of trainings completed, expertise achieved, awards received. Framed letters of praise from foreign leaders. Medals for bravery.
Gawain Robards was a Ministry of Magic Auror through and through.
Draco took a step towards the filing cabinets then stopped. No, the type of incriminating documents Draco needed would be kept closer to the man himself.
He went straight to the desk instead. Robards was apparently more careful than his DoM compatriot, requiring an Alohomora or two to rifle through the top few drawers. Draco quickly scanned their contents, finding nothing of interest other than what appeared to be some confiscated wands and standard forms for arrest warrants.
But the fourth drawer had ward magic as a form of barrier to entry. As Draco contemplated what type of complicated spellwork he'd need to bypass the wards, he heard approaching footsteps. He hastily backed away from the desk and threw the Cloak on just in time as Robards strode back into his office.
He stopped at the threshold for a moment, appearing lost in thought, then kept on to sit rigidly behind his desk. He pulled a fresh piece of parchment and a quill towards him and then stopped, seeming to think hard.
Trying not to breathe too loudly or make any sort of noise, Draco observed him as he stared into the mid-distance.
Robards looked haggard; quite at odds with the sharp, seasoned veteran Auror Draco initially met upon the news of his father's death. Draco knew the look well. Glamour charms that no longer did the job. A few days' worth of stubble on a usually smooth chin. More frown lines around the mouth, purple bags beneath the eyes, a pallid face. A man coming apart at the seams, but doing his utmost to hide this from those around him.
What had Robards so worried? These physical signs were more than just products of the normal stressors that accompanied working in the DMLE.
So suddenly it caused Draco to take a surprised step back, Robards threw down his quill and walked to his cabinets. He worked quietly and quickly, seeming to know exactly what he needed to find. He waved his wand and a stack of folders and parchment floated over to the desk.
Draco crept forward, curious as to what this pile that had so thoroughly captured his concentration contained.
His heart stopped cold at the document on top of the pile.
The official agreement signed by Theo to break his Unspeakable Oath.
He couldn't sift through the pile to see what else Robards had collected.
Draco slid his Galleon out of his pocket and silently sent off quick messages to Granger.
Stuck in Robards office.
Find Potter now.
I'm sorry.
As Draco looked on, another document floated over with a terrifying list of information:
A list of Granger's upcoming court appearances.
Her travel schedule.
Her home address.
A warrant for Floo access to her home address. Already signed by Head Auror Gawain Robards.
"I have been an Auror through two wars. I know when I'm being followed."
Robards' voice abruptly rang out, though he didn't turn around.
The thrum of fear coupled with guilt churned through him. Alone in a room with a powerful and potentially very dangerous man. He'd overestimated his ability to go off-script and come out of this the unscathed hero.
Draco sent one more message through the coin. He didn't even think twice about tapping it out. If it would be the last thing he ever wrote to Granger, then she should know.
He slid the Galleon back into his pocket and raised his wand beneath the Cloak.
"You can come out now Mr. Malfoy."
Draco did not remove the Cloak, but spoke up.
"How did you know it was me?"
"Your wand has a Trace on it."
Another piece of parchment landed on the desk. A readout of Draco's wand activity.
"My probationary period ended years ago," Draco countered, cold dread filling his stomach.
Robards finally turned around, looking close to where Draco stood invisible.
"Mmm, so you were told. Been using plenty of Contraceptive Charms as of late."
Robards didn't say it with a leer, like perhaps Flint would have. No, this threat was more than a sexual harassment tactic from a powerless prisoner with a disrespectful streak.
Draco's hand felt sweaty around the handle of his wand, the material of the Cloak almost suffocating. When Draco still said nothing, Robards' expression turned slightly amused.
"You really think you can best a trained Auror in a duel?"
"Well I've beaten Potter before and not even the Dark Lord can say that."
Draco had also been 12 at the time and had cheated, but that was neither here nor there.
"Then allow me to give you all the information you require. You may choose a different course. I've got someone to waylay Potter outside the records room. And I've got constant eyes on Johnson too," Robards gestured to the pile on the desk. "Now, your girlfriend is the careful sort. Floos directly to and from her office from what I can tell. You constantly escort her to public events. But international portkeys are registered here you know. Heading to Geneva at the end of the month for a conference, isn't she? Alone?"
"What do you want from me?"
"Take me to your friend Mr. Nott's home. Now."
Draco said nothing. He removed the Cloak and held his wand steady in Robards' direction.
"If something happens to me, understand I could make life very difficult for the people you care about," warned Robards.
"You're bluffing."
If Draco had learned anything from Potter's odd knack for avoiding death, it was to keep your adversary talking. A very Slytherin-esque trait, Draco thought. He'd take the piss out of Potter for that should he survive this.
"All I have to do is say the word and one of my Aurors can have Miss Granger brought in for questioning for any reason I choose. I know of a select few who've demonstrated over the years that they aren't too fussed about how roughly they physically handle detainees. And she's quite easy on the eyes, isn't she, your girlfriend?"
Draco's wand shook in his grip from a combination of rage and fear. "She'd see you all removed and imprisoned for anything you did."
"Hmm, perhaps. Would you wish that for her though? When you can so easily prevent that from happening now? Take me through to Nott, he's the only one I want."
"So you can kill him?"
"No. I've learned that bodies cause questions. I didn't even get the pleasure of killing your father and that caused quite the problem for me. I simply want to remove any incriminating memories and he can be on his way. And remind him of the cost of coming forward."
"Why did you have my father murdered?"
Robards rolled his eyes.
"Merlin, the world does not revolve around the Malfoy family. Your father was murdered by an overtired, grief-ridden guard who was deemed medically unfit to carry a wand. And it was still a kinder death than Lucius deserved. But no, the removal of your father from this earth was most inconvenient for me, I assure you. Got Potter all up in arms to storm in and try to save all those worthless low-lifes. Potter is a naive child, as is the rest of your generation. And yet that generation has Shacklebolt's ear."
Though Draco might not survive the day, part of him wanted to fall over laughing.
Hear that father? Not only did your untimely demise push Mother back to her "blood traitor" sister, create the perfect circumstance for me to fall madly for Granger, but inspired a hero mission from Potter to save the rest of Azkaban.
Is there room enough in your grave for you to roll?
Only Lucius Malfoy could accidentally cause some good in this world.
The Galleon warmed in his pocket.
"So why not attack Granger?" Draco questioned abruptly, playing for more time. "Prevent her and Sterling from investigating."
"And make her a martyr? No, much easier to play into the public's preconceived notions about prisoner filth. Better to show that her methods, her soft ways, failed."
Draco did not like the shiver of trepidation that rippled through him at that statement.
"Why are you involved at all? What use does the DMLE have for prisoner experiments?"
Draco could sense that Robards' patience for chatting was nearing an end.
"I have a job to do, Mr. Malfoy, which is probably not something you can relate to. And to do that job, I need to get answers out of despicable people. Further, I need to ensure criminals stay where they can no longer cause problems. Byron and I have been friends through many administrations, many crises in our world. We found ourselves with mutually-aligned interests. He wanted to continue some more exciting research and I wanted a better behavioural deterrent than simple incarceration. I am sick and tired of seeing men like Lucius Malfoy or Gregory Goyle do the bare minimum only to be freed once more."
"Yet you removed Derek Stanford and let Filagree stay where he is?"
"Filagree knows to keep his mouth shut. But Stanford got nervous with your little crusade poking around Azkaban. He grew a conscience at the wrong time and had the unfortunate idea to tell me about it."
The Galleon warmed again.
"What did you do to him? Is he dead?"
"No. He's living happily somewhere in America as a Muggle, with a whole new life and identity implanted in his head. You can thank Miss Granger for that idea, it's a rather ingenious way to hide a person."
Robards stepped closer so Draco changed tack.
"You want me to take you to Theo? Imperius me then."
"Ah, I don't think so. Thanks to your best mate Potter there's much more oversight on the spells that leave our wands. I don't fancy having an Unforgivable show up on a weekly report."
Sensing the time for action had arrived, Draco tried for a non-verbal disarming, drawing on bravery provided by the Galleon's brief flash of heat.
It failed, but the twitch of his Hawthorn wand unfortunately gave him away.
"Oh, were you actually planning on fighting me?"
Robards summarily disarmed him and tucked Draco's wand inside his robes. "DMLE privilege, especially in the head auror's office, boy. You couldn't have harmed me in here."
Robards flicked his wand again and Draco felt his wrists bind together, an invisible force keeping his hands clasped in front of him. Another brush of magic and his feet unwillingly led him towards Robards. Magically cuffed and tethered to the Auror.
"So, we're taking a trip through the Floo now, or I can send an emergency missive to one of my trusted Aurors who will arrest and detain Miss Granger, no questions asked. That's the kind of blind loyalty I've built here over decades. No branding of Dark Marks required."
Another impossible situation. Trapped in another corner.
The Galleon felt hot against his leg.
Robards threw the powder into the grate, and waited for the only occupant in the room who had permission to arrive at Theo's home.
"The Floo won't let you through," Draco said at once. "Blood wards."
"We're magically tethered, so if you're allowed, I'm allowed," said Robards with a smirk. "But nice try."
He summoned an interdepartmental memo from his desk.
"Last chance, Malfoy. Or I'm sending this off with an order to bring in Miss Granger."
"Nott Manor," Draco called.
He knew which parlour they'd arrive in. Where Blaise and Theo spent most of their time together, relaxed and comfortable in the home they'd made their own.
Robards shoved him forward into the room and Draco fell to his knees. He felt the dig of a wand into the back of his neck.
Blaise looked to Draco in confusion.
"I'm so sorry," Draco pathetically offered his two friends.
Another chess board on which Draco existed as nothing but a pawn. Another game in which he'd lose, and take his loved ones down with him.
Robards waved his wand, shutting the open doors to the hall, locks clicking, trapping everyone inside.
"Hand over your wand Mr. Zabini. You as well, Nott."
Robards collected Blaise's tossed wand but Theo hesitated.
"I see. Have it your way then." He flicked his wand and Draco found himself on his back, Robard's wand in his face. A moment later, Robards held Theo's wand too, though he'd needed to cast an Expelliarmus to win it.
Robards tried gripping each new wand in his possession, and seemed to have an affinity for Theo's wand.
Cold anger suffused Theo's voice. "Filagree's DMLE contact, I presume?"
"Correct Mr. Nott. I've always supported his research. Under Barty Crouch we actually had an experiment at Azkaban on how long the human body and mind can withstand the Cruciatus. It's a shorter amount of time than you'd think."
"You had a group of lab rats at your disposal in those prisoners," said Blaise, disgusted.
The Galleon hadn't warmed in a while.
"Precisely. However, given the certain political climate these days, if anyone finds out I signed off on these experiments or supported them in any way, my career is over. But when I am Minister, I think you'll find some sweeping changes made to the justice system."
"Assuming no one finds out about your cover-up," said Theo.
"But it's a simple arrangement, you see. Or it should have been. Your power could have helped your department receive more research funding and it would have given me a way to keep prisoners in their place without using torture curses. Speaking of," he said and flourished the Sycamore wand.
Malevolent magic rushed through the air.
"Crucio."
Blinding pain. The kind he hadn't felt since he was 18. The all-encompassing, body-wide ravaging of the Cruciatus Curse hurt like nothing else. Nothing but agony from nerve ending to nerve ending; excruciating burning and tingling as everything within him felt aflame. His body rolled around on the floor, contorting and thrashing in ways he could not control, but no amount of movement would bring an end to the torture.
Draco thought he heard voices shouting.
The pain stopped. He could barely hear the conversation over his own laboured breathing.
"You said you would only alter his memories," gasped Draco from where he lay curled in on himself. He flexed his shaking wrists against the magical binding but they did not give.
"Ah, but do you not see the opportunity I've been given? What a scenario I could craft?" A manic gleam shone in the eyes of a desperate man, pushed to his limit and no longer willing to operate in stealth. He rolled Theo's wand in his hand as he pitched his falsified theory.
"Poor, unstable Unspeakable Nott, riddled with guilt, goes a bit mad one night and turns his wand on his partner and friend. Crucio."
More pain, more uncontrollable twitching and jerking and suffering.
Through the ringing in his ears, Draco heard Theo and Blaise pleading.
This round lasted much longer. A nightmare of throbbing hurt, boiling torment he could feel in his bones, it ran that deep within him. White-hot agony seeking and finding every part of Draco and rendered him screaming incoherently, mindless in the misery of never ending pain.
Theo said something to grant him another brief reprieve.
"You just want me, please. I'll do whatever you want."
"No," rasped weakly Draco from the floor, throat raw from yelling. "Theo don't."
"I'm the only other proof, yes? Eliminate me from the equation and be done with it."
"No," said Robards firmly. "I'm done with the disappearances and having to hide more of you people. Crucio."
His sanity might not last much longer, and he wondered whether he might pass out or go mad first. But the pain stopped quickly this time as Draco heard another spell. "Stupefy!"
A body fell to the floor with a sickening crack. Another spell from Robards and a piece of furniture blew apart, bits of wood and upholstery flying apart.
"May I remind you that you are wandless Mr. Zabini, and it would be unwise to try and rush at me again."
Through half-lidded eyes, Draco saw Blaise darting behind different chaises and couches. He'd soon run out of barriers or any semblance of feeble protection.
So Draco did something brave. Or rather, something a bit stupid. He was sure there was some sort of Venn diagram of the two concepts with the word "Gryffindor" smack in the middle.
Gathering what little strength he had left, he feebly kicked out, and hooked his foot behind Robard's leg and sent him staggering to his knees.
He heard running footsteps towards him, but Draco's brief attempt at a distraction hadn't been enough, and Robards fired off another "Stupefy" at Blaise, this time hitting his mark.
Struggling to even sit up, Draco was immediately knocked back down. Robards had a knee on his chest and Theo's wand at his throat.
He swiftly cast an Asphyxiation curse.
Draco had a wild thought about the cleverness of that curse choice. More Crucios would have him jerk too much. Not possessing the ability to breathe would incapacitate him quicker.
The fight left Draco as he struggled for air. He saw the man's lips forming the first syllables of the curse that would end his life.
Draco's last thought would not be about this current state of pain.
Nor would it be about a sunny kitchen with warm croissants and a fantasy woman.
Instead he dedicated a final moment to a woman who egged him on with a whispered, "Do it soon then." Who'd been so nervous on their first date she'd practically chugged two glasses of wine. Whose fingers trembled at his waist the first time she went to touch him. To the woman who'd probably spend a good portion of her future time absolutely furious with him.
Sorry Granger, I tried.
Black spots appeared at the edges of his vision and gathered mass by the second.
If Draco focused his hazy brain enough, he could actually hear her shouting his name.
Robards was thrown off him. It sounded as if his body flew into the nearest wall and he slumped to the floor.
Air rushed back into his lungs with such force that he sputtered and coughed. Gasping and trembling, Draco struggled to keep his eyes open, but his vision swam, blurred by sweat and involuntary tears. Every part of his body ached.
He caught flashes of the scene, almost like a sped-up dream.
Shouting.
People coming through the fireplace.
The sparks out of the ends of wands.
Curses, hexes, jinxes.
He blinked and Robards was on his feet again. The older man deflected and parried the spells sent his way.
But he was no match for the righteous fury of one of the wands.
Gods, even her spellwork was loud.
Attack and defend, attack and defend.
Robards had fallen to the ground, now wandless and vulnerable.
Draco's eyes fell shut again, limbs quivering of their own accord.
"Nott's breathing!" called out Johnson. "He's concussed, we need to take him in."
Then he heard her in a gentler tone. "Rennervate. Zabini, you good?"
"Yeah m'fine, was only Stunned. But Robards… he was torturing Draco… the Cruciatus… I don't know if he's—"
Draco both heard and felt a flurry of magic fly through the air.
"Hermione, that's enough!"
He forced his eyes open again to see Potter had Granger physically restrained.
He felt oddly feverish as his strength faded fast. Blaise had crawled over to him, and put a hand on his shoulder, and then to his wrist. "Shit, your heart rate is too elevated. Draco, hey, stay with us, it's going to be—"
"Hermione, stop!" Potter suddenly shouted.
She'd broken free and had her wand jabbed into a prone Robards' chest.
"You tortured him? YOU TORTURED HIM?" The thundering cry of an incensed warrior.
Johnson stepped forward to cast an Incarcerous on Robards, dragging a reluctant and panting Granger away.
More yelling. Draco thought it might be his very favourite sound. The noise waxed and waned as he crept closer to unconsciousness.
A smaller hand replaced Blaise's touch.
Granger knelt over him, and though that sight was fantastically beautiful, what his bleary eyes had beheld moments before flashed even brighter in his mind: a person set on world-burning, soul-rending, retaliatory actions to avenge his suffering. The type of passion that ran deeper than mere lust, that could spur a person to fatally flex their power.
Holding on to that brilliant image, his eyes rolled back and he passed out.
A/N: Only one chapter to go! Final update on September 21.