Hermione woke up to a cold, unused space beside her. One of her hands slid through the smooth, untouched sheets on the other side of the bed as she wondered why Lucius stayed up through the night. It wasn't that unusual of him to pull an all-nighter when presented with a mountain of work especially now that his company was expanding.

But Hermione realized something was wrong when she received an owl from his secretary instead of flooing her directly like he always did. Mr. Malfoy won't be making it to dinner, was the only message. No matter how busy he was, Lucius always found the time to tell her personally about his plans.

And when he eventually came home at half-past ten, he only gave her a peck on the cheek and then locked himself in his study for the entire night.

The only other time Lucius acted this distant with her was when Narcissa was murdered. Hermione understood why, of course. It was a dark time for everyone including her. But right now, she couldn't think of a reason why her husband would act this way.

A soft pop of apparition interrupted her thoughts. Winky stood by the door with her head slightly bowed.

"Breakfast is ready, Mistress."

Hermione got up and put on a dressing gown. "Is Lucius still home?"

"Master never left the study, Mistress," the elf replied.

After dismissing the elf, Hermione made her way to Lucius' study. The door was unlocked and unwarded this time, thankfully. She peered around the room before stepping inside. Hermione found Lucius slumped in his chair, an empty bottle of firewhiskey sat beside his paperwork. Something was definitely bothering him.

Even in his sleep, he looked troubled. Hermione pushed away a few strands of blond hair from his face. Lucius stirred at the touch before his eyes eventually opened. Hazy grey eyes met worried brown ones.

"What's wrong, my dear?" Lucius asked. His voice was hoarse from sleep.

"I should be the one asking that," Hermione pursed her lips. "What's going on, Lucius?"

"Nothing is going on, Hermione," he then eyed the mountain of paperwork on his desk. "Well, unless you count these documents I have to review and sign for the expansion."

It'll take more than that to fool her. Hermione perched herself on his lap as her hands ran across his chest in a soothing manner. This close, she can smell the remnants of alcohol he consumed last night mixed with the scent of his unique cologne. "What happened yesterday? Are you alright?"

"I had to fire half of my staff including William who had worked for Malfoy Industries for over fifty years. Of course, I'm not alright," he snapped. Hermione tensed for a moment and looked away, finally understanding what was troubling him. Lucius sighed and instinctively settled both his hands around her waist. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take my frustration out on you."

He then laid his head on her shoulder, inhaling her scent as Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck in a comforting gesture. "Don't be," she whispered, feeling some guilt settling in the pit of her stomach. Hermione had been so distracted with the Education Bill lately that she didn't notice how the expansion of his company had taken its toll on him. Maybe she shouldn't bother him with the bill altogether. Hermione thought of reaching out to Susan Bones for help instead. "Let's take the day off. We can go do something."

She felt Lucius shook his head against her shoulder. "No, no. You need to finish the bill."

"I can do it later," she argued. "It's Friday anyway. I can pore over it in the weekend with Neville and Minerva."

He pulled back and stared resolutely in her eyes. "Finish the bill."

"Lucius—"

Lucius cut her off with a quick kiss. "We can go do something later after work. I have a lot of things to do right now anyway. Owls to send, papers to sign, a room to renovate…"

Hermione perked up at the mention of the former drawing-room. "How's the renovation going?"

"Just a few more wards to add and it should be done," he shrugged then gave her a tired yet happy smile. "It's quite a spacious room for a potions laboratory so I had to make some adjustments."

"Can't wait to see it," she murmured. Hermione then pushed herself off his lap before holding out a hand to him. "Come on. Winky has prepared breakfast."

Lucius clasped her hand in him and together they made their way to the dining room. Hermione realized that something was still bothering him when he didn't place a kiss on the back of her hand in reassurance like he usually did.

Harry woke up with a start when someone yanked the Invisibility cloak off him. He looked up to see Dean stifling a giggle while holding his cloak.

"Blimey, Dean!" Harry said as he snatched his cloak back. "How'd you know I was under it?"

"There's a flaw in your cloak, mate," Dean replied. "It slightly shimmers in the dim light. It's not really that noticeable but it's there if you look closely or if you're observant enough."

"Really?" Harry said incredulously. "When did you realize this?"

"I didn't. It was actually Robards," Dean scratched the back of his ear as he smiled at Harry sheepishly.

"What?"

"He told me to come and get you for a briefing. When I told him that you weren't in your desk, he said that you were under the Invisibility cloak sleeping," Dean explained. "Sorry, mate."

"No, no it's okay," Harry then let out a breath. "Bloody hell! He knew all this time? Why hadn't he accosted me or something?"

"You're Robards favorite," Dean said. "You're the only one who listens to his drunk stories after work."

"Some of it was fun though."

"Yeah, only if you hadn't heard it for the millionth time," Dean snickered. "Come on, then. Let's not keep him waiting."

Harry stashed his cloak in his drawer before following Dean into the war room. "What's on the agenda?"

"Something about the anonymous package sender. My guess is we'll be raiding an establishment in Knockturn Alley tonight. That's where it usually ends."

The doors to the war room creaked heavily as Dean pushed it wide open. Harry ducked his head in embarrassment when he realized everyone was waiting for him.

"Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence," Talbott Winger sneered. "I hope you got a good rest, Potter. We won't be getting any later."

"Quiet down children," Robards hollered. "Take a seat, Potter. I want this done and over with. I have a meeting with the Minister and the DMLE Head in fifteen minutes to keep them up-to-date about this blasted case."

Harry sent Talbott a withering glare before settling down across Seamus who grinned at him in greeting. There were only six of them in the room including Robards himself which made Harry slightly curious. Robards usually sent out a minimum of ten Aurors for every raid regardless of the locale. He'd learned the hard way when a sting operation to catch rogue Death Eaters six years ago went haywire and a civilian was murdered in the process. Narcissa Black's bloodied lifeless body still haunted Harry's dreams every night.

"I want this as quick and quiet as possible that's why I'm only sending the five of you," Robards looked at each of their faces sternly. "You'll be going to The Mockingbird tonight."

"The Mockingbird? Isn't that Madam Palmer's brothel?" Seamus piped up.

"I don't even want to know how you know that, Finnegan," Talbott mocked.

"Can it, Winger! I'm not in the mood today," Robards hissed then glanced at Seamus. "Yes, Finnegan, it's the brothel in Knockturn Alley. I received a tip yesterday saying it's where the culprit gets his exploding packages. It says in the letter that they usually rent a room there for a transaction."

"How reliable is the tip? It could be someone messing with us," Anthony Goldstein, a former Ravenclaw in Harry's year, asked.

"Could be but I'd rather risk it," Robards sighed. "This is the only lead we had so far and to be frank with you, I'm nearing the end of my patience with this case so I'll take this over nothing."

"How would we know who it is?" Dean questioned. "There's probably a ton of customers there every night."

"That's why I want you to observe the place first. Inspect every room. The culprit might not be acting alone. Anyone that looks suspicious, I want you to bring them in."

"We're going to watch people shag," Seamus muttered. "Absolutely splendid."

Rita Skeeter sighed contentedly as she sipped her tea while her chief editor and colleague Barnabas Cuffe sat across her, eating a club sandwich. It was one of those days where news was slow in the Wizarding World and they were afforded the leisure to eat lunch outside the office. The staff at the Daily Prophet had been a regular at Rosa Lee Teabag's teashop in Diagon Alley for years now since they've relocated.

"You still won't tell me your source?" Barnabas asked.

Rita arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her boss. "Which do you want: my source or my integrity?"

Barnabas scoffed at her as he wiped a few crumbs off his mouth. "Come now, Rita. Don't act all high and mighty to me just because you finally switched over to the other side."

"I'm not acting anything. I really can't tell you even if I wanted to."

"Unbreakable Vow? You know how to wiggle your way out those things."

"No, it's not it," Rita hesitated, the bubble of peace surrounding her dissipated in an instant. "I just can't. This is big, Barnabas, really big. And I can't afford to mess this up."

Barnabas noticed the slight tension in her countenance. "Morgana's tits! What have you gotten yourself into this time? Is it anyone in the Ministry?"

Rita Skeeter was saved from answering when an unfamiliar owl came swooping inside the teashop and landed gracefully on their table, missing her teacup by an inch. The owl lifted its leg out to her where a scroll was tied up. She pulled it gently and fed the owl small pieces from her sandwich before sending it on its way. Rita unfurled the scroll and noticed that the handwriting was also unfamiliar as the owl that carried it.

The Mockingbird, tonight. Bring all your friends.

The word 'friends' was highlighted and Rita understood the message clearly. Something was about to go down tonight and the sender wanted all the press there. She normally didn't share her scoop but for this case, she would make an exception.

"What is it?" Barnabas tried to get a glimpse of the letter's contents but Rita immediately tucked it in the pocket of her robes.

"A story," she smiled mischievously.

Hermione had just finished writing the third section of their Education Bill when Blaise entered her office. He stood by the door and already had his robe and sling bag on.

"You're staying?" he asked.

She glanced at the clock hanging above the fireplace in her office and noticed that it was half-past seven. Hermione cracked her knuckles before settling her quill aside.

"I didn't realize it was late," she replied as she felt her neck and back ached for being hunched over her desk the entire afternoon. Maybe she should start working out again. Hermione had missed the rigorous training she had during her Auror trainee years.

"What's new?" Blaise smiled at her. "How did the meetings go?"

"Well, Robards is sending out a team tonight. Apparently, they received a tip yesterday about this mysterious package sender. Kingsley wanted to keep a tight lid about this raid so Robards is only sending out five of his best."

"And the meeting with Longbottom and the Headmistress?"

"So far so good. We might get the first draft of the Education Bill done by Tuesday if nothing big happens over the weekend."

"Let's hope so," Blaise concurred. "By the way, Penelope and I are going to head out for a drink at the Leaky. Do you want to join?"

Hermione shook her head. "I think I'll pass this time. I still need to write down some of Neville's suggestions."

Blaise nodded. "Don't stay up too long. It's Friday," he said before leaving.

She waited until Blaise's footsteps faded before pulling a piece of parchment out of her pocket. It was the anonymous tip Robards received yesterday. Hermione lightly ran a finger over the paper, tracing the familiar messy scribble over and over. She had seen this handwriting for nearly two decades, ever since she was eleven. It had slightly changed over the years but it was unmistakable to whom it belonged.

"Oh, Harry. What have you been up to?"

"You look fine, mate. C'mon. Seamus and the others are already there."

Dean watched as Harry checked himself for the last time in the window's reflection of one of the passing shops before making their way inside Knockturn Alley.

Due to Harry's notoriety as The Boy-Who-Lived, Robards thought it best if Harry drank a Polyjuice potion before heading into the seediest part of the Wizarding community. They would risk suspicion if one person instantly recognized him. This was a covert operation after all.

The Mockingbird was an upscale brothel located near the end of Knockturn Alley. It was richly furnished with fine tapestries, curtains, and artwork. Harpers serenaded the common rooms with background music, and there was a bar that served fine food and wine. Madam Palmer had her brothel cater to every taste, staffed both male and female prostitutes, either of which would provide pleasure to men or women if the customer was so inclined.

Dean heard rumors about it when he first started working for the Ministry that on rare occasions, Madam Palmer had been known to discretely accommodate more unusual "inclinations" as a private favor to powerful clients who can pay a very high price. As to what those "inclinations" were, Dean had no idea.

They both spotted Seamus, Talbott, and Anthony as they entered, sitting by the bar nursing a drink while talking to two women, probably enticing the trio to rent a room. Seamus subtly nodded his head in their direction.

"You boys looked new," they heard a sultry voice spoke. A woman in silk red robes with flowery patterns strode towards them. She reached out a hand and caressed Dean's left cheek. "Not much of a rind on you. Are you guys looking for something?" the woman purred.

"We're actually just… looking," Harry answered. "Just browsing."

"Ohh, a spectator, I see," the woman smiled mischievously between the two. Dean glanced at Harry in confusion. "Why don't you two wait upstairs? Room eleven. We'll send a couple of girls and boys—we don't discriminate," she winked knowingly in their direction. "in a few minutes and you can take your pick from there. How about that?"

The two nodded their heads vigorously and bolted upstairs as soon as the woman disappeared. Harry cleared his throat loudly when they passed by the other three and they soon followed. Keeping a respectable distance as to not arouse suspicion.

Dean counted exactly twelve rooms as they walked across the dimly lit hallway. "How exactly are we going to find this guy?" he whispered.

"Or guys," Seamus said. "There could be two of them or more."

"Look, there's a peephole on the doors," Anthony pointed.

"Eugh," Talbott grimaced. "I'm not going to look at people fucking."

"Nor do I," Seamus said looking a bit green. "Talbott and will stand guard here by the top landing in case the woman comes back."

"It's always us who has to do the labor," Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll take doors one to four. Goldstein, you look at five to eight while Dean checks the last four. And make it fast."

Dean begrudgingly walked to the far end of the hallway. Room nine was empty and so was eleven since they were supposed to occupy the latter while room ten was just some old guy having a threesome with two women. He felt his trousers tighten a bit at the obscene display before him.

He eventually tore his eyes away and proceeded to go check the last door. Dean couldn't help but think that this raid was pointless and they'll never catch the guy—whoever he is.

"I think I'll have to bleach my eyes after this," Dean muttered as he placed both palms on door twelve and leaned towards the peephole. "What the fuck?"

He peeked just in time to see Cormac McLaggen dragged the bloodied and bruised girl back towards the bed. The girl was saying something and Dean realized that the rooms were surrounded with privacy charms, preventing any noise from coming out. He watched as McLaggen continued to beat the girl mercilessly before forcing himself upon her. When the girl tried to fight back McLaggen conjured a rope and tied her to the headboard. Dean could only watch in horror as McLaggen thrust roughly in and out while a hand gripped the girl's neck tightly, suffocating her.

Dean couldn't take it anymore. He pulled out his wand and blasted the door open. McLaggen was startled as ropes sprouted around and bounded him. "Hey!"

"You sick fuck!" Dean pounced on his former schoolmate and landed punch after punch. It was seconds later when he was pulled off by Anthony and Seamus but Dean kept thrashing, trying to get his hands on McLaggen

"Stop it, Dean. You're going to kill him," Seamus said looking more green than before.

Dean noticed Harry and Talbott were beside the girl checking for a pulse. After a moment, Harry then shook his head. "She's dead."

"What's the meaning of this? That is a VIP client!"

All heads turned to the source of the sound to see the woman Dean and Harry talked to earlier standing by the door, a look of extreme panic gracing her features.

"This is a Ministry sanctioned operation," Harry stood and showed his badge to the woman. "Where is the owner of this place?"

"Madam Palmer is indisposed and has tasked me to manage the place for tonight."

"Then send word to Madam Palmer and tell her she is being summoned by the Ministry now."

The woman frantically nodded before fleeing, leaving them alone again.

"I wasn't trying to kill her," McLaggen tried to plead. His left eye was bruised shut while his nose and lower lip were profusely bleeding. "I swear! It was an acci—"

"Shut the fuck up!" Talbott punched McLaggen in the face before hauling him up. Harry conjured a robe from the stained bedsheet to cover McLaggen's naked body.

They all proceeded to head out the door with Dean being the last one to leave and as he walked to the door, something shimmering on the corner of the room caught his eye. He stayed inside under the pretext of investigating more when he suddenly remembered his brief conversation with Harry about invisibility cloaks and its flaws.

Dean took a deep breath, swiftly turned around, and shot a stunning spell in the direction of the glint he noticed earlier. There was a loud thud and Dean was shocked to see it was the Auror trainee Dennis Creevey holding a muggle camera.

"Dean, what took you so—wait, is that the trainee?" Seamus said as Dean caught up with the others, a stunned Creevey floating behind him. "Where the hell did you find him?"

"He was in corner of the room hiding," Dean explained as he handed Harry his invisibility cloak. "I believe he stole this from you."

"This night just kept getting weirder," Anthony huffed as he and Talbott dragged McLaggen across the lobby. Employees and other patrons of the brothel were huddled to the side, afraid of being arrested too.

Flashes of light blinded them as soon as they stepped out the entrance door. Reporters from every publication all clamored to get a statement out of them.

"Bloody hell! How did they know we're here?" Anthony hissed.

"One of the staff probably talked," Harry said. "C'mon we need to go. Seamus, contact Mungo's immediately and notify them about a deceased body. Dean, go help Talbott and Anthony take care of Creevey and him," Harry jerked a thumb in McLaggen's direction. "I need to notify Robards immediately."

Harry then disappeared followed by Seamus.

"I was joking when I said earlier that we wouldn't get any sleep," Talbott grumbled as he side-along apparated Dean, Anthony, Creevey, and their bounded prisoner back to the Ministry's holding cell.

It was half-past ten when Hermione placed down her quill and called it a night. The floo to the Malfoy library flared a vibrant green before she stepped through, silently cursing as she brushed off the soot lining her favorite plum-colored robe. Hermione hated traveling by floo and only did so when she was eager to get home.

After hanging her robe and placing her bag on her desk, Hermione headed out in search of her husband only to come face to face with Corban Yaxley in the hallway leading to the former drawing-room Lucius was renovating.

"Madam Malfoy," Yaxley nodded stiffly in greeting. "A pleasant evening."

Hermione wanted to ask the older wizard if he was sure about that. His face looked like he stepped on a huge pile of hippogriff dung. "Mr. Yaxley," she returned the greeting. "I didn't know we will be having a guest tonight."

"I just came by to deliver something to your husband and was on my way out," he tersely said.

"I better not keep you waiting then," Hermione smiled demurely at the sour-looking wizard. "A pleasure running into you, Mr. Yaxley. Have a pleasant evening as well."

Corban Yaxley strode out without so much as a glance in her direction and Hermione released a huff of breath in frustration. Some people were really way beyond redemption.

She continued her trek to the former drawing-room. Hermione knocked thrice before slowly pushing the double doors open. It seemed her husband had outdone himself this time. She was greeted by rows of shelves containing vials of ingredients for brewing potions as well as books about potions making. The floor-to-ceiling windows were replaced by walls, enveloping the room in total darkness with only torches of light lining every protruding columns and the chandelier connected to the high ceiling served as lighting. In the middle of the room was a workstation good for at least four people. Hermione noticed there were runes etched around it.

Lucius' back was to her and Hermione was mesmerized by the play of muscles through his flimsy shirt as he grounded something into the mortar.

"I love what you've done to the place," she said as she came up behind him, encircling her arms around his waist. "I don't recognize the room anymore."

"That's the point," Lucius replied. He squeezed her hands before going back to what he was doing.

Hermione peeked over his side at what he was doing, noting the ingredients strewn across the table. "Fluxweed, knotgrass, lacewing flies, boomslang skin… are you making a Polyjuice potion?"

"An astute observation, my dear."

Hermione buried her face in his back as she hugged him tighter. "Mm umnt mppreciate mm mrcasm (I don't appreciate the sarcasm)," her husband's answering chuckle was a soothing balm to her exhausted soul. She eventually pulled away and settled beside him. "What was Corban Yaxley doing here?"

"Just delivering some stewed lacewing flies," Lucius said nonchalantly as he waved a bottle of said ingredient in front of her.

"Is that all?" when he only gave a noncommittal shrug, Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Lucius…"

"I just love it when you use that tone on me," he purred. "Like I'm about to be sent to detention for misbehaving."

"You are misbeha—Lucius!" she shrieked when he lifted and placed her on the table, gently pushing the ingredients aside. "What are you doing?!"

Lucius wedged himself between her thighs before trailing wet kisses along her jaw down to the pulse point in her neck. "Have I been a naughty boy, Mistress?" he whispered underneath her ear.

Hermione couldn't help the moan escaping her throat at his ministrations. The questions she had were immediately pushed to the back of her mind replaced by an aching need for her husband. Her hands quickly worked on the buttons of his shirt desperate to feel his skin while Lucius worked on the zipper of her skirt.

She couldn't help but marvel at how fine Lucius looked even at the age of fifty-five. He may have gotten a bit thick around the middle but it was nothing compared to the majority of his peers. Nothing a continuous exercise wouldn't remedy. Maybe she could ask him to work out with her in their free time.

As her hands traveled to his trouser, finally about to unbutton her most anticipated prize, a rapid knock on the door interrupted them.

"What?!" she snarled. This should better be important or somebody will definitely get an earful from her. Beside her, Lucius was shaking with uncontrolled laughter.

They heard a whimper from the other side and realized with a start that Hermione must've terrified their poor elf.

"You may come in, Winky," Lucius said softly and then turned to Hermione. "Must you really scare the elf?"

She ducked her head in embarrassment as Winky handed a letter to her. The elf disappeared immediately with a small pop and Hermione made a mental note to apologize soon to the house-elf once everything was sorted out. "It's from Kingsley," she said as she tore open the seal and read the contents as fast as her eyes would allow.

Lucius tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "What does Kingsley want this time? He knows it's a Friday night, right?"

"He's summoning me back to the Ministry. Something happened with the raid," she leaned her head against Lucius' bare chest. Hermione listened to his steady heartbeat as she closed her eyes, willing everything, save for the two of them, to disappear for a moment. "So much for a quiet weekend."