Chapter 6: Furballs and Kneazle-nip

Author's Note:

This is another chapter with Draco's POV, not Hermione's as some might have expected.
I did mention in chapter 2 that the POV's will be unevenly distributed, with the main focus on Draco and his search for her.

Besides that, many, many thanks to both Laura and Sara for checking grammar and spelling.
And last, but not least, thank you to the Queen of Alpha/Beta reading, Amy—your feedback in regards to basically everything (SPaG, plot, pacing, characterisation, etc.) was greatly appreciated.

Now, enjoy! :-)

"Back for more?" Riverside taunted from his desk when he saw Draco walk past three days later, heading straight for Hermione's office.

"Say hello to your wife for me, and the offer still stands," Draco replied with a nonchalant smirk, then disappeared into Hermione's office. Once inside, he took a deep breath. It still smelled like her—a scent of parchment and jasmine, it always had a comforting note to it. It was so strong, almost as if she was here... After another deep breath, and shaking his head, he finally started to go through the rest of her piles to sort out those that fulfilled a criterion; they all had the same note scribbled on the edge of the sheet with the personal information of the victim. Unregistered. "Thorough as you have always been," he whispered, smiling softly, halfway expecting her to retort.

"How's it going so far?" Harry asked, leaning in the door. "Come to any conclusions?"

Draco managed to avoid getting startled upon hearing Harry's voice from the door—he had been too focused on the cases to pay attention to his surroundings. He finally nodded in response to Harry's question while continuing to check the remaining pile once more to be sure. For once, he was glad that he and Harry were still on friendly terms, despite their different positions when it came to her—after all, they still did business with each other. "I think she was onto something. Looks like she hasn't changed that much... Or did she tell you what she found?"

Pressing his lips together, Harry shook his head. "No, she hasn't changed that much. She just wants to be absolutely sure about her ideas before telling everyone else. Drove her partner nuts."

"Drove me nuts often enough. She was the same with me."

"Yeah, I remember. What's your plan then?"

Pointing his wand at the pile of files he had sorted out, Draco made copies of them to take home. "I think I'm going all Hermione on you with this. But I'll let you know as soon as I've put the finger on what bugs me with the files I already have at home."

"Okay."

"Are you able to decipher her shorthand notes?" Draco asked, shrinking the file copies for easier transport in the business suitcase he had brought along. "I forgot most of it..."

"Some of them. I think she uses it when we're not supposed to be able to read it."

Draco smiled faintly in Harry's direction. "I already have an invitation for Saturday, otherwise I would have requested you could come over to have a look at her notes."

Harry straightened up when Draco came to the door. "Yeah, I heard about Blaise's party. Ron told me that Pansy asked him to come along."

"I hope he said no," Draco replied with a teasing tone in his voice, raising his eyebrow briefly. "He'd take the piss as the only Gryffindor amongst us Slytherins... And my mother is coming as well, I'm already going to hear enough from her about the whole thing." He passed Harry and took one last look at her office before making the last step outside. "I think you'll make him quite happy with a case that requires his attention over the weekend... Just saying." Draco turned around towards the other desks. "See you around, Potter."

"The Black Ferret," Draco mumbled, going through the last known activities of Tracie Wiggins once more. "Just like Vabsley and Lewis." He went through the sheet of their last known activities of all the other case files that he had pinned on one wall. "The Black Ferret, The Black Ferret, The Black Ferret... They all went to the same shop. That was the connecting point." He made a step back, letting out a deep breath. Was that what she had found? Was it that shop? The name rang a bell, but he couldn't say why. It felt like something he should be able to remember, especially if it was a place he had visited once before with Hermione. And he hadn't really forgotten anything connected to her. No, those six years with her, he still remembered all the details. Because she was worth remembering. Yawning, he checked his watch, and realised that he had spent all night delving into these files and Hermione's notes, trying to find that annoying detail he knew was in there somewhere because she had made the connection. The sound of his fireplace coming to life pulled him out of his thoughts, though he didn't move.

"Ugh, please tell me the lie that you went to bed and had some sleep instead of obsessing over this?" It was Astoria this time, standing in the door, shaking her head in utter disbelief at the state of both Draco and the room.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked, turning towards her, leaning against the wall with his shoulder.

"I had an inkling to better check on you this morning. At least I brought breakfast, but I won't let you off work, mister." She raised the bag in her hand to get his attention. "Gods, you're falling back into really old habits. I thought you were through this..." She walked in, taking a look around. "This? What's that even supposed to be?"

"These are copies of Hermione's cases," Draco answered, watching her.

"Draco, please. You really hope to find her? And what then?"

He shrugged, then straightened himself. "I found what she was after," he replied, ignoring her question. He appreciated her concern, but he didn't need to discuss his intentions with her—right now, the most important thing was finding Hermione again, the rest would come on its own. "Though I might need to leave a bit earlier today, I want to check out something."

Still holding up the breakfast bag, she eyed him sceptically, a frown forming on her face. "You know exactly that I absolutely hate having to constantly reschedule everything for you. It's not good for your reputation–"

"I said a bit, before the shops close in Diagon Alley, okay?" he interrupted her before she could go into full lecture mode. Gods, he had apologised to her in full form for unexpectedly taking an afternoon off and leaving her to deal with everyone on his schedule that day, and she was still not letting him off the hook. With what he hoped looked like an appeasing smile, he finally grabbed the breakfast bag from her hands and made for the door to get to the kitchen. "I'll be there in an hour."

"You better be, or I'll send my husband to pick you up," she retorted, following him out, but then turning towards the fireplace. "I'll have some of the Invigoration Draught ready for you when you come in, okay? You know, for the monthly meeting with the Financial Department?"

He nodded. "I've seen the report, I'll be there. And thanks."

.xx.

"Just remember, don't ever pull a stunt like this again. Because if you muck up the acquisition of the Hungarians, you might have a hard time expanding into Eastern Europe, not to mention what you'd lose out on," Daphne said, finally getting up from the meeting table, her files all neatly collected in a small pile.

"I know." Draco tried to stifle a yawn, then got up to let her out.

She sighed, and then followed him to the office doors. "Astoria was right, you look exhausted. Are you really obsessing about her again?"

"Why does everybody keep asking me that?" He frowned briefly, rubbing the back of his head.

"Hey, I get it. Getting over someone is hard, no need to tell me. And it wasn't exactly nice what she did to you..." She smiled when he finally opened the door for her. "Thanks. Just let me know if you want to talk to someone else than your two bodyguards for a change," she added with a wink in her eye and stepped out.

"Hey," Astoria greeted them with a short smile, as she was still trying to decipher a handwritten report from the Human Resources Department. "You're still up for lunch, right?"

"Yes, little sister. See you later."

Astoria nodded, and then finally gave up her attempt of deciphering for a moment. With a frustrated sigh, she turned around. "You can join us if you want..."

"Thanks, but no." Leaning against the door frame, he shook his head. "Not hungry, and I still need to go through a few things before leaving."

"I'll rephrase it, then," she countered, raising her eyebrow. "You need to eat, so you'll join us."

"Astoria–"

"Draco, no." She stood up to meet him on a more equal level. "I know the signs. You don't sleep well if at all, you lost your appetite, and all you can think of properly is her. I'm not having any of it this time. You will join us for lunch."

"Why?"

She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Because someone needs to keep an eye on you... And most of the time that's me," she finally said, looking up again, showing one of her soft smiles. "My family is buggering me about having children, you know? And I'd really love to start a family with Blaise, but... It's just that I don't think I have the energy and capacity to raise a child, as demanding as you've been for the last eight years. So, please, do me a favour, and just join us for lunch, okay?"

Too tired to continue arguing with her, Draco nodded. Though, he didn't exactly look forward to sitting at the same table as the Greengrass sisters, being forced to listen to their conversation, and probably even expected to add something. "If there's nothing else on my schedule until then, I'll take a nap."

"Yes, might be better. You do look a bit like a ghost."

The rest of the day passed relatively fast, and Draco was glad when he was finally able to leave the company to check out the shop whose name he had discovered in all those files while going through them the night before. As it was Friday evening, Diagon Alley was busy with wizarding folk out for a drink, with a witch or wizard amongst them finishing their shopping. The shop he was looking for was at the other end of the Diagon Alley, so Draco used the opportunity for a walk even though he could have Apparated directly in front of the shop; sometimes a short walk helped to clear his mind, sorting out things. This time, however, he wanted to use the time to prepare an excuse to enter the shop—it sold exclusive treats for magic pets as well as a range of articles helpful to care for other creatures.

"Mr Malfoy! Mr Malfoy!"

Draco only briefly glanced around without stopping his steps. People always recognised him—his generation pointed at him with disapprovingly narrowed eyes while the younger generation who had been born after the Second War usually looked at him in a mix of awe and apprehension, knowing him for his company and the devices they now used on a daily base. It only ever was unnerving when the Prophet ran another story on him or his family, bringing up the old stories once more, reminding everyone of the mistakes they had made—mistakes for which he would probably atone the rest of his life in one way or another. Only with Hermione at his side did this those unnerving moments of pointing fingers and wary glances stop, as nobody dared to annoy her.

"Mr Malfoy! Please, just a minute of your time."

Draco glanced once more amongst the people swarming Diagon Alley, slowing his step. Then he saw a wizard trying to catch up—about ten years younger, in one of those modern, Muggle-inspired wizard robes, and a calculatingly polite smile on his lips. A reporter. Great.

"Thank you, Mr Malfoy." The reporter wizard had finally caught up with him. "Kerr, Morris Kerr. I write for–"

"The Daily Prophet?" Draco didn't hide the disdain in his voice, and continued his walk through the street, picking up speed once more. He wasn't in the mood to talk to a reporter, but had made the mistake to slow his steps as if he was waiting for the other.

"Well, yes. Though, I cover wizarding economics, not gossip."

"Every reporter I've come across is interested in gossip."

"Good point, Mr Malfoy. However, I've heard that your company plans to expand into Eastern Europe–"

Draco stopped. Acquisition plans were usually treated with utmost discretion before the signatures on the acquisition contracts have dried. "How would you know about any plans my company has?" he asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. He didn't like the fact that people in his company felt the need to share information.

Morris nodded, his annoying calculating smile still on his face. "A good journalist doesn't reveal his sources."

"Yes, I figured as much. Now, please make yourself disappear." With an irritated sigh, he made to continue his walk down the street towards the shop Hermione had discovered.

"Would you agree to an interview, Mr Malfoy?" Morris said, following him closely.

"No."

"Not even to give your opinion on Ms Granger's disappearance? Your ex-partner?"

"Ms Granger and I haven't spoken in eight years, so I do not have any opinion on her disappearance except for her safe return. Now, leave!" And with a low growl as a warning not to follow him any further, Draco turned around to walk down the rest of the street.

.xx.

"Good evening, sir," the shop assistant greeted him with a tired smile when Draco entered the shop; he must have been counting the minutes until he could finally close the shop. "How can I help you?"

Draco noticed that the shop assistant, a young wizard, let his eyes briefly wander down on his desk. "I'm looking for some treats for the pet of a good friend of mine. She just got it," he said, playing the ignorant customer. "It's a Kneazle if that helps." His rather fond memories of that furball Hermione had called her pet were useful now. Crookshanks—that was the Kneazles name—had been protective of her, had even scared the shit out of him several times in the beginning of them dating. Until one evening, when the furball just leapt into his lap and curled himself into a comfortable position; that was the day they had formed an alliance to keep an eye on Hermione. It had been a sad day for them both when Crookshanks had passed away, with Hermione mourning the loss of her old furry companion for weeks. Even he—though he would never admit it—still sometimes missed the moments with the Kneazle curled up in his lap, allowed to let his fingers run through its fur. Maybe he should get himself one to keep an eye on him?

"Well, if the Menagerie doesn't have what you are looking for, then we can probably help you," the shop assistant replied, coming around to the front. "Kneazles usually like treats containing meat, and we have a wide range of exclusive brands here; otherwise, there is something called Kneazle-nip, and they are crazy for it. The Menagerie doesn't have it yet, so other Kneazle owners come here to buy them."

Draco pretended to listen intently while taking a closer look around the shop. It seemed completely normal—at least to his naked eye. The assistant's behaviour, however, had made him suspicious. Hermione was definitely on the right track, he was sure. "Do you have something really exclusive? Money doesn't really play a role when I intend to make a gift..."

The shop assistant's smile immediately broadened. "Of course. I think I have something in the back that might just be perfect. I'll have a look..."

Draco nodded, putting up his well-practised polite smile. That was exactly what he wanted, being left alone for a moment. Keeping up his smile, he waited until the assistant was out of sight, and then pulled out his wand to point it at several points throughout the shop. Revealing Charms didn't just work to point out humans in a room, they could also be used to uncover hidden magic. As a result, the door was glowing green for several long seconds, a confirmation that there was indeed magic at work. And he knew what kind of magic it was—another modified Revealing Charm, letting the shop owners know whether the incoming customer was just a normal wizard, just as he was according to the assistant's slightly wavering smile, or whether they were hiding something, like an animagus or half-Creature form. Yes, they had all been here, and had their secret uncovered in such an inconspicuous, but cunning way. And not a single Auror had come to this conclusion? Potter seriously needed to have his teams checked...

"So, there you are, sir," the assistant said when he came back, holding a small package in his hands. "This is as exclusive as you can buy when it comes to Kneazles..."

"Hey, you made it, even almost on time!" Blaise greeted Draco when he finally arrived at the dinner in Blaise's house on.

"Yes, got held up by Potter who has an impeccable timing. He wanted to verify my report, but I told him to piss off for the evening. It's Saturday, and he can't even take a short break..."

Blaise led him to the living room, where everyone else was already seated. "One rule tonight. Astoria and I do not want to hear anything about Hermione and the case of her disappearance. Anything. Understood? Anything else goes—work, gossip, Quidditch, whatever. Just not her."

Draco nodded reluctantly. Maybe it was better that Hermione was off the table as a topic, knowing most of his friends—and his mother as well—would probably try to either berate him for it or dissuade him. Because eight years were enough. For them, not for him.

"Good." Blaise flashed a relieved smile. "Ogden's, as usual?"

When Draco joined the others, his mother immediately got up to greet him with a hug. "You look tired, my dear."

"I'm fine, Mother," he replied, returning the hug.

"Oh, Pansy here was nice enough to bring me up to date about what's going on, since you didn't feel inclined to let me know about it..."

Draco threw Pansy an irritated glare; she just shrugged and took a sip from her wine glass. "I'm fine, really. I just help out Potter. And that's all I'm going to say about it."

"I don't think so, my dear."

"Is that why you came tonight?" Draco asked, trying to contain his irritation about how the evening was starting. His mother's presence was surely another attempt by Blaise to talk some sense into him—so much for no talking about the situation...

She shook her head. "Well, Blaise was kind enough to extend the invitation, and I wanted to see you."

"Pansy, move," Draco hissed.

"There's enough space for everyone," Pansy retorted calmly, not moving a single inch from her spot on the two-seater. "And I was talking nicely to your mother..."

"The hell you were." Draco ignored her icy stare and instead sat down next to his mother on the three-seater, causing Daphne to move to the other end. "Anyway, anything else happening in society that I supposedly need to know about?" he said, leaning back. Thankfully, Blaise came back with the glass of Ogden's Finest Firewhisky for him in one hand, and the bottle in the other. Nursing the glass—severely tempted to just empty it in one go—he leaned back on the sofa.

"Did you tell Potter to give Ron a task over the weekend?" Pansy asked, smiling, but with a provocative tone.

"It's not as if you did him a favour bringing him here," Draco retorted, taking a first sip.

"I haven't seen him in weeks, you know?" she said, keeping her provocative tone. "Just because he is looking everywhere for your ex-girlfriend–"

"She was his ex too." Draco decided that downing the firewhisky in one go was the best option, as grumpy as Pansy seemingly was. "His first."

"Pansy, stop it," Daphne shot across the sofas when the other was about to retort something to Draco's remark. "You really wouldn't have done him any favour, as nice as he seems..." She leaned back, lining up with Draco, who was playing absent-mindedly with his empty glass. "I can't really understand what she sees in him," she said, just loud enough that he could hear her.

With a smirk, he turned his head to look at her. "I don't either, but he seems to treat her right. You know how picky she is with men..." He raised his glass. "Blaise, where are your hosting manners? My glass is empty!"

"The bottle is in front of you on the table," Blaise retorted from his spot on the armchair, nursing his own glass of firewhisky.

Narcissa, who had until now watched her son interact with the others, leaned over to him, with a smile that didn't even bother to hide her concern. "Why are you late? Has it something to do with–"

"As I said, I helped Potter with something," Draco answered evasively, and then leaned forward to fill his glass once more. He didn't expect anything else from his mother, and that he was sure that was why Blaise had invited her. Sod him.

"I've read the articles, Draco," she continued, ignoring his interruption. "And I know you still haven't given up on her, so why are you late?"

Draco glanced at his mother, who was still eyeing him sceptically, her eyebrow just ever so slightly raised. He hated that look because it usually meant that he was in for a word or two from her later. "I thought there was a promise of dinner, Blaise," he eventually said, nursing his glass.

"What?" Blaise turned his head, having been in a discussion with Astoria and Pansy, but then just waved at him dismissively.

"Don't ignore me, Draco. That's rude–"

"Everybody knows I haven't given up on her, Mother," Draco retorted, and emptied his glass before getting up. "It's a promise I gave her once." With a deep sigh, he made for the terrace, needing a breath of fresh air or two. It had been a long day after all, and he hadn't really had any decent sleep. He was sure that his mother would take the opportunity to follow him.

"Why?" Narcissa had indeed followed him outside and closed the terrace door behind her, a worried expression on her face now that they were alone for a moment. "Why now?"

He leaned against the railings on the side of the terrace and looked out onto the gardens, as small as they were compared to those of the Malfoy Manors he grew up with. "I never stopped caring about her, you know?" he finally said with a quiet voice.

Narcissa came closer, holding out her hand. "I know. I remember how miserable you were when she–"

He turned to look at her, biting his lips, clenching the railing with his hands until they were white. "I want answers. She owes me that. And this is an opportunity to get them—if we can find her alive."

Narcissa came to stand closely in front of him, the soft smile she always had for him on her lips, though her eyes were still narrowed. "Please be honest with me... I'm just worried about you. What Astoria told me doesn't just sound like you only want to find those answers. You're neglecting everything else—again."

"I'm not. I just..." With a sigh, he looked out to gardens once more. "Eight years, and I still bloody miss her, okay? It still hurts after all that time... You of all people should know how it feels to be separated from the one you love–"

"Don't bring your father into this. You know that this is different," she objected coldly. "Astoria thinks you're falling back into your obsessing habits, and I think she's right. I don't say that you shouldn't try to help to find her, but you shouldn't forget your priorities. You have a company to think about, and you risk everything with your behaviour."

Still looking out, he nodded slowly. "I know."

"Look at me, Draco."

Closing his eyes, he turned his head towards her. He hated having his actions questions by everyone, but especially by his mother. Why couldn't they just understand that it was something he had to do if he ever wanted to be able to find anything resembling closure? Clenching his jaw briefly, he opened his eyes to look at his mother and put on a faint smile to appease her.

"I can't tell you anymore what to do... I can only warn you to be careful what you get yourself involved in. I know she was special, she brought the best out of you, and she made you happy, but... but is she worth risking everything you worked so hard for?"

"She is," he whispered. "And I know the risks." He straightened himself when he saw Blaise about to open the terrace door, glad for the interruption. He considered pulling the migraine card to get out of this evening, as he started to feel exhausted, but he knew that his mother would be disappointed if he did that.

"Dinner is ready if you want to join us," Blaise said, only sticking his head out.

"We're coming," Draco replied, and beckoned his mother to lead the way back inside.

TBC