Song title taken from the 2010 Rihanna song.
Dew drops twinkled in the sunlight, scurrying to the bottom of the blades of grass to keep them from evaporating into the air. The sun was rising calmly, creeping into the crevices and flooding the earth with warm radiation. The clock chimed, awakening a still sleeping Rosalind from a peaceful dream. She rolled out of bed, magicking her kitchen utensils to scrap together an avocado toast to go while she jumped in the shower and threw on her clothes.
"The Ministry!" she walked into the bright green flames, the room spinning into darkness before transforming into the Atrium. She briskly walked to her department, catching a snippet of Breckenridge's conversation before greeting Draco.
"Good morning," she said as he sits down. "How was your weekend?"
"Lovely," Malfoy answered in a bitter tone. "My father's hearing has been continued and his odds of being let out of Azkaban are looking slim."
"I'm sorry to hear that," she said sympathetically. As angry as he looked, his eyes appeared distant and sad.
"I don't need anyone's sympathies, thanks. He did some foul things to end up in there."
"At least you have your parents," she quipped. "Some of us aren't fortunate enough to have them anymore." Her torso shifted into the opposite direction completely ignoring him. Draco's face softened but he remained silent. He learned from a young age to keep a cold, complacent face at all times, lest others would ask questions.
They worked through their lunch hour silently, taking occasional glances at each other. Draco headed to the cafe during their break, his mind still on his mother. He no longer lived at the Manor but visited his mother frequently. After all these years she was still distraught from the war, having lost her sister, brother-in-law, friends, and husband. As much as he loved her he couldn't bear to see her upset but at this point was unsure how to help her. She didn't want to talk, she didn't want to go out, and hardly ate. She was losing herself in misery.
"The usual, Meredith," Draco said to the little witch at the café. "Grab me a biscuit as well." The old woman smiled at him, and he walked back to his desk, dropping the biscuit onto his partner's desk.
"What's this for?"
"Erm—peace offering. I realized I haven't been too nice to you," he said honestly.
"Oh," she perked up, splitting the dessert in half. "I was starting to think you didn't know you're an asshole." She offered him the bigger piece.
Draco almost laughed. "I'm normally not. Just been under a lot of stress is all." He chewed slowly, enjoying the gooey chocolate chips melting into his mouth. "How long have you been living here for?"
"I don't know, maybe a few years now? I lost track." She was engulfing her sandwich. "I normally don't stay anywhere too long. What about you?"
"My whole life. It's been alright I suppose, but it'd be nice to get out a bit more often."
"Why haven't you?"
He shrugged. "Don't know, actually. Guess I don't know where to start. I've heard the States are pretty nice this time of year," he added trying to make conversation.
"It depends where you go. New England is beautiful right now and so is the south, but if you go where I'm from you'll burn yourself to death," she said with a smirk, taking a jab at his pale skin.
"Making fun of my fair complexion I see," he answered with a smile. "I can handle anything."
"Oh yeah?" Rosalind challenged. "You can handle 120 degree weather, with your privileged alabaster skin that has hardly seen the light of day?"
"One hundred twenty? Where the bloody hell do you come from, Hell?" he blustered.
Rosalind gave him a devilish grin, her soup spoon dangling from her mouth. "That's exactly where I'm from."
Draco accidentally snorted out a laugh, along with a genuine smile. "I see why you left then."
She finished her soup, packing away the leftovers. "So what's with the change in attitude?"
"Bowen said we're partners, so we have to like each other," he responded a tad harshly.
"Did you not like your previous partners?"
"Erm...I didn't necessarily dislike them. It just wasn't working out."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that I didn't like their attitude or they were trying too hard to be close to me," he responded slowly.
"Ah, you get annoyed easily and don't like to be close to anyone, got it," she said with a laugh. "Typical man."
"Typical man my arse," he retorted. "I've been through quite a few things few would understand."
"Yeah? So have I." She stared him dead in the eyes. It was not a competition, or a question, but a statement of understanding. "Most days I wonder how I ended up here of all places."
Draco nodded, ever so slightly. "I could say the same." He cleared his throat as a bundle or reports flew onto his desk along with a purple inter departmental memo, hovering in front of his face to be opened. He hastily read the note and scribbled his reply, watching it fly away.
"What's wrong?" she asked, looking through their new heap of notes. "Have there been more attacks?"
"I'm not sure. It looks like something has been raiding villages, but it's not there to kill. No one's been harmed." They thumbed through several photographs depicting households with countless items overturned, ripped apart, and broken. Rosalind looked over Draco's shoulder, barely being able to see over him. He smelled of soapy peppermint, one of her favorite scents.
"So is that a scare tactic or is it looking for something?"
"What would a werewolf be looking for?"
"Don't jump to conclusions, this could be something completely different," she answered in a rather know-it-all fashion.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Maybe. Bowen wants us to interview the Squib from the other day, she's finally awoken since being in St. Mungo's." Rosalind nodded, grabbing her cloak and waiting for Malfoy to lead the way.
The hospital was enormous: stressed Healers in lime green robes scurried about to different wards with their trainees, notes and quills in hand. Draco led them to the first floor for creature-induced injuries, introducing himself to the Healer-in-Charge, Hippocrates Smethwyck.
"Healer Smethwyck," he said confidently. "I am Officer Malfoy, and this is my partner Officer Morana. We have been sent here by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to speak with one of your patients, Adriana Holmes." He presented his badge when the Healer gave him a questioning look, who then appeared convinced.
"Ah yes, Miss Holmes. She has awoken from her shock-induced coma." He began to walk them to a small white room where the young girl has been resting. "Be rather careful, she is still dazed from the potions we have been giving her." They nodded, slipping into the room.
At the far side of the blank room laid the same girl they saved not long ago, yet she looked much different-her hair was matted into knots, the bags under her eyes a deep purple, and her nails a sickening, dirty yellow, resembling claws. She recognized the pair and attempted to sit up, breaking into a small smile.
"Hello Adriana," Rosalind said gently. "How are you feeling?"
She lifted her arms where strings of magic were monitoring her heart rate and checking her blood. "I'm being taken care of so not bad I suppose." She grimaced as she tried to get comfortable. "I didn't realize I was asleep for so long."
Draco, ever impatient tried to cut to the chase. "Adriana, do you know who attacked you?" Rosalind shot him a look of annoyance, miffed by his lack of discretion.
The girl looked surprised. "No, no I don't. All I know is that some animal attacked me and that turned out to be a werewolf. I didn't see anyone."
"Do you recall seeing anyone behaving oddly, or having conversations with strangers prior to being hurt?" he continued.
Adriana pondered for a moment. "Well now that you mention it…sort of. I did see a young woman around a lot that I ran into at the market but we didn't talk much. She was probably around your age, maybe a little older."
"What did she say to you?" Malfoy pressed. "What did she look like?"
"I—I don't really remember." She squinted, trying to prod her memory. "She had long curly hair tied in a bow, it was really pretty. She didn't say her name but asked if I lived nearby and with who. But she wouldn't answer any of my questions."
"And did you tell her?"
"Well yes, I thought she was being nice. But I never saw her again after that."
Malfoy raked his hand through his hair, contemplating what to say, Rosalind taking the opportunity to speak. "Thank you for this information Adriana," she said smoothly. "Hopefully we can find out soon who is behind this." She observed new marks on her body that appeared self-inflicted. "How are you holding up, honestly?" she lowered her voice, glancing over at Draco who was scribbling notes.
"Terrible," Adrianna admitted with a sad look on her face. "I felt like I had no control of my body, but the Healers gave me a Wolfsbane Potion that calmed me down and put me to sleep. But it's so painful…" She trailed off, a tear glistening down her cheek. "They told me that I'll likely not transform a lot unless I'm real angry or force it…but if I wasn't brought here the time that I was I would have probably killed my dad and gotten lost somewhere." She glanced her sorrowful eyes to Rosalind's. "Thank you, so very much."
Rosalind smiled. "No problem. If you ever need to talk or remember anything else, just shoot me an owl, okay?" She patted her arm and looked over to Draco, who was speaking with the Head Healer.
They walked to the tea room on the top floor near the gift shop. Draco looked deep in thought so Rosalind ordered two cups of black tea and set one down in front of him. "You do like tea don't you? Or is that just an English stereotype?"
He gave her a stiff smile and plopped two lumps of sugar into his cup, letting the spoon stir itself. "Don't believe everything you hear." He fiddled through his notes, stumped. "She hardly said anything. She was practically useless."
"You would probably have a hard time disclosing information yourself if someone came up to you in such a rude way!" Rosalind glared at him. "I mean, you do realize you were talking to a traumatized girl right? She is a victim."
"But what if she's not? What if she was in on something?" Draco retortd, stung that she raised her voice. "Maybe she doesn't remember everything."
"You think she volunteered to be bitten by a werewolf? Why would anyone do that?"
"Do you think it's a coincidence she's not in school right now? She's not exactly homeschooled." He shoved a document to Rosalind's side of the table. "She's a Squib. She has never shown an ounce of magical ability in her life. Being a werewolf would give her the chance to be part of something from the wizarding world."
Rosalind examined the document unconvinced. "That's a possibility, but what would their goal be? Voldemort's gone, no other wizard has taken his place so what's the motive?"
"An army of former Squibs?" Draco suggested half-jokingly.
"I don't know," she pondered. "I don't think we should treat her any differently, but we have to keep all options open." Draco relaxed, glad that she wasn't tossing his suggestions out the window. "But I do think we should do more research, I have a feeling all these little occurrences lately are connected."
"I think so too. We should head to the library after work. I'll show you where it is. We should be heading back soon, see what else there is for us to do," he responded, returning to his business-like tone.
As they proceed to the exit, she hesitated to ask Malfoy a question that had been lingering in the back of her head. "How did you start working here, if you don't mind me asking?" she asked as innocently as she could. "I mean, from your background and all."
Draco's lips pursed, and he stopped in his tracks. "I never thought I'd end up here, honestly," he answered slowly. "I was forced to become a Death Eater while I was at Hogwarts the summer before my sixth year. My mother was against it. I was lucky I was never tried by the Wizengamot or sent to the dementors..." he paused, reminiscing about his school days. "It was actually Potter and Granger that got me off, they insisted that I'm not a bad person. My mother and I were able to help Potter at the Battle of Hogwarts but by then damage had been done. Our name was ruined." His jaw clenched, as if he was missing a former part of his life. "I helped imprison several former Death Eaters and had information the Ministry found useful. I was slowly able to work my way into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I know it's an odd career choice but I find it strangely intriguing."
Rosalind nodded as if she were listening to a pleasant story. "Oh that's not nearly as bad as I thought it would be." She almost laughed, Draco raising his brow. "You never were the bad guy after all."
He gave her an inquiring look. "What's your story then? Bowen mentioned something about Dark Arts training—"
"I never joined a Dark Wizard or anything if that's what you mean," she replied defensively, her face somber. "I was part of something much different." Draco stayed quiet waiting for her to finish, but she never did. "It's a long story, and one I don't think anyone know." Her eyes drifted to the floor and she did not speak until they were back at the Ministry.
By the time they returned to their department it is almost the end of their shift. Draco and Rosalind handed their paperwork to Bowen and headed to the library, deep within the Ministry.
The golden grilles closed slowly, descending ominously. A cold draft breezed through them sending shivers down their spines. With a faint thud, they landed in front of the library. The cool female voice informed them of their location and that it will be closing soon.
"Looks like we've got to get moving," Draco said. "Grab whatever you think is useful and I'll check it out under my name." Rosalind silently agreed as they split up in the enormous library.
The Ministry library was absolutely breathtaking: it had hundred foot domed cathedral ceilings, elaborate artwork on every curve and corner, towering bookshelves on every subject imaginable, and large windows that flooded sunlight into the room. It was hauntingly beautiful.
"You ready or are you going to keep ogling?" Draco's voice broke the blissful silence, his arm full of dusty books. He handed her the stack she wanted and they once again found themselves inside the lifts.
"Thanks for the books," she said quietly, unsure what to say.
"Don't mention it," Draco responded curtly. "You need help? You look like you're about to topple over."
Rosalind shot him a dirty look. "No thank you sir, I am fine," she retorted in a half-amused tone. "I'm stronger than I look."
"Right," he smiled. "You look downright intimidating."
She grinned. "Glad you finally noticed."
The lift stopped at the atrium and Draco felt an odd sensation coming over him; he felt compelled to speak up or he would miss an opportunity. As Rosalind stepped out of the lift to the Floo hallway he stopped her. "What are your plans for the night?" he asked casually.
She looked back at him, surprised he was continuing the conversation. "Oh you know," she lifted the books, "exciting night of reading ahead of me. What about you?"
"Same," he replied, avoiding her gaze. "You're welcome to come and research with me if you'd like. You know, to get a better understanding of this case."
She eyed him, but nodded. "Sure. That sounds like a good idea."
Taken slightly aback, Draco led the way. They squeezed into the phone booth that led them to Muggle London and proceeded to the large town of Cokeworth, a city with a dirty littered river and dusty, greying houses. A signpost marked Spinner's End was at the front of the street and they walked to the brick house whose number had faded away. Draco tapped his wand on the door knob and the door swung open, revealing a dark, enclosed two-story house with threadbare furniture, candle-lit lamps hanging from the ceiling, and walls lined with books.
"It's not much," Draco said as he quickly whisked away some potentially embarrassing items. "But it works." Rosalind set the books down at the center table, admiring the library that Draco had in his home.
Draco mumbled for her to make herself at home as he set off to his kitchen, suddenly realizing how awkward this could be. He couldn't even remember the last time he had company over, let alone a woman. He asked if she was hungry to which she replied of course so he conjured some sandwiches and hot chocolate.
They ate rather quietly and began to read. Once she relaxed Rosalind took her shoes off and had her feet on the couch, book propped up on her knees. "There's so much to read about. Don't you think we should look into Muggle attacks as well?"
Draco gave her a look of apprehension. "Why should we care about what happens to Muggles?"
"What will happen if they are attacked by werewolves or other magical creatures? Someone is bound to be smart enough to piece everything together, and that could end up violating the Statute of Secrecy," she replied in a rather smart tone.
Draco sighed. "I don't know. I see your point. Maybe we'll ask Bowen about it." He snapped his books shut and lay down on the opposite couch. "I'm beat. I don't think I can read anymore." He ran his fingers through his hair in disappointment. She had been there for a couple of hours and the silence was comforting.
"What now then?" Rosalind asked as she shoved a book onto the floor in frustration.
"Don't know, we'll try again tomorrow." Draco shrugged and walked back into his kitchen. "I need a drink. Want anything?"
"Sure," Rosalind sat up. "You got anything else besides hot chocolate?"
Draco rummaged through his fridge, yelling over the counter. "Uhh…you like fruit? I've got some nice elf-made wine in the cellar too."
"Yeah that sounds good. You got a deck of cards anywhere?"
Draco bumped his head on his fridge. "Cards? What for?"
"You ever played King's Cup? I need to take my mind off of work."
He rubbed his head and walked back into the living room with a tray of fruit. "No what the bloody hell is that?"
"It's a drinking game," Rosalind replied simply. "Although we'll need more than just wine…beer would probably be a good idea. If we get anything harder than that we might pass out."
"You're challenging me to a drinking game?" Draco laughed at her fatuous idea. "You sure about that?"
"Only if you're up for it," she smiled. "I understand if you can't handle it."
Draco cocked his eyebrow and gawked his pale grey eyes at her. "Oh, you're joking." He smiled genuinely for the first time in months. "Alright then. Let's see what you can do."
"Cool!" she stood up excitedly. "I haven't been on a beer run since I was in school," she said mostly to herself while putting on her boots. "Do you have anything in particular that you want? I personally like tequila but that isn't always the best drink to mix with."
"I didn't know you were such an alcoholic," Draco said with an inoffensive sneer.
"I didn't know you were such a pussy," she said so nonchalantly Draco almost didn't catch her smile.
"What did you just say to me?" Her remark caught him completely off guard. She smiled at him and shrugged, heading for the door.
The walked outside into the darkness, the only light peering from the blurry street lamps. A small and empty liquor store was at the next street over, where they decided their destination was. They bought butterbeer, firewhisky and some Muggle drinks and headed back, drinks already opened.
"It probably isn't a good idea to drink on a Monday night before work is it?" Rosalind asked as she chugged her first beer. "It's downright unprofessional."
Draco popped the cap off a butterbeer and took a large sip. "Yeah, but how often do you drink? I don't remember the last time I got drunk."
"Neither do I," she answered honestly. "I used to drink a lot but it made me miserable and fat. Besides, I've been wanting to celebrate having a steady job but I have no one to celebrate with."
"I know how that feels. All my friends are in Azkaban or dead," he responded sadly. He opened the door to his house and they stepped back into the living room. Rosalind was already at the table shuffling cards.
"So King's Cup is a simple game. We need some drinks and a large cup." She tapped her empty beer bottle and transfigured it into a goblet. "Every face of a card has a different meaning that requires a different action. For example a nine means rhyme, and whoever is the first to say a word that doesn't rhyme has to drink. Oh but if you draw a king you have to pour some of your drink into the goblet. Whoever draws the fourth king has to drink the whole thing. Got it?"
Draco made a disgusted face. "Got it." He was hesitant to start, thinking it was strange to be drinking with a coworker at his house. But he had nothing else to do and thought no harm would be done. It was a lot more fun than they imagined and they finished the game in about an hour. In the end there were two cards left, and it was his turn. He contemplated which card to pick and instinctively went for the card on the right. He flipped it over and the fourth king was blowing raspberries at him.
"Aha!" Rosalind said, pouring some more beer into the cup. "Looks like you have to chug it all!"
Draco groaned. "Can't I appeal or something?" She shook her head and he took the goblet, gulping it down in four large gulps. He almost sputtered it out since it was so disgusting—they had butterbeer, wine, firewhisky and who knew what else mixed into it. The alcohol burned so strong it gave him an immediate buzz. "Ugh. That was awful. People do this for fun?"
"Don't act like you hated it," she nudged him with her elbow. "I saw you laughing and having a good time."
"Maybe a little." He smiled, leaning his back against the couch. His head was spinning. He attempted to stand up but banged his shoulder on the wall. "Damn. I am so pissed."
"Huh?" Rosalind was laying on the ground and sat up."Whatcha mad about?"
"I'm not mad—" Draco said stumbling back to the floor. "I'm pissed, I drank too much…"
"Ooh you're druunk!" she laughed. "I sometimes forget…your strange English lingo…doesn't make too much sense to me." She had her arms and legs spread out like a starfish and was staring blankly at the ceiling. "Your ceiling keeps spiraling…did you do something to it?"
Draco lay down next to her. "Me? No I thought that was you…I don't like transfiguration much."
Rosalind attempted to sit up but plopped to her side instead. Her head felt heavy, her body lethargic but she felt so free at the same time. She looked over at Draco's pale grey eyes that appeared half asleep. "Are you falling asleep? It's like nine o'clock."
Draco groaned, face buried deep in his sweater sleeve. "No…I'm trying to keep the room still. Stop moving so fast you're making my head hurt more."
"Oh don't be such a lightweight," she answered. "I knew you wouldn't be able to keep up."
"Keep up?" he shoved his head in her direction almost knocking into hers. "I had to drink the whole bloody cup! If anything you couldn't keep up with me!"
"You're just upset you lost," she said slowly, grinning slightly. "That's not my fault."
"Uh-huh. Like hell it's not." He rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Accio potion cabinet!" A basket with various potions flew into Draco's lap. He took off the stopper of the smallest one, taking a sip. "Want some? It'll prevent a hangover."
Rosalind crawled over to him, using his leg as a crutch. "Yes, I can't stand hangovers." She let the dark brown potion burn her throat and immediately felt clear-headed. "Damn that was quick. Where'd you get this?"
"Brewed it myself," Draco said in a pompous tone. Her eyesight was no longer blurry but she was still drunk. "I'm quite adept at making potions, you know."
"Potion making's only fun if you're good at it." She leaned against his shoulder. "I like transfiguration more myself. You can do more damage."
"What do you know about damage? You're like two feet tall."
"Am not!" She waved her wand at the ceiling, transfiguring it into a portal-like window that gave them a clear view of the night sky: the stars were twinkling brightly and the midnight blue ocean was clear.
"Wow," Draco said impressed. "That's quite a view."
"Thank you," she beamed, proud of her work. "I taught myself that." They gazed at the stars for a while, pointing out the different constellations and shapes. A particularly long constellation that looked like a dragon caught her eye. "That's the Draco constellation right? Aren't you named after it?"
"Yeah my whole family's named after a constellation," he answered, taken aback. "How'd you know that?"
"Draco isn't a very common name," she answered firmly. "All the ancient wizarding families are in public records so it's easy to learn your background. I read a lot since I have nothing else to do."
"Sounds like someone else I know," he muttered.
"If you're talking about Hermione Granger, then thank you."
He laughed. "You're welcome."
It was rather peaceful laying on the floor in silence. There was a placid sense of calmness between them that echoed through the walls. Nothing was said for nearly half an hour.
"Can I ask you something?" Draco asked cautiously. Rosalind looked like she was ready to fall asleep.
"Go for it."
"Why did you leave? The States I mean. You keep giving half answers."
Rosalind remained silent for a long moment, eventually turning her body to his. "I did something terrible. Well really, something terrible happened to me. I handled it the worst way possible and let it ruin my life. I became very angry and uncontrollable. It turned into a huge mess I won't ever be able to fix." She paused, her face dark and somber. "Have you ever accidentally gotten yourself into something that spiraled out of control?"
"Yes," he answered darkly. "Yes I have."
"Do you ever get scared that you'll fall back into bad habits?"
"All the time."
"Me too." Her voice trailed off, deep in memory. "I needed to be someplace where I could start over and become a decent person. I didn't know what else to do." She was quiet again, her eyes glistening in what looked like potential tears.
"You're not a bad person," Draco said thinking quickly. "At least I don't think you are."
Rosalind cracked a smile. "Thank you. You're not so bad yourself." She closed her eyes, not meaning to fall asleep. It was rather late; it had to be past midnight. Draco didn't have the heart to wake her up and kick her out so he Summoned a blanket from his room and laid it over her gently. She looked tranquil enough so he set off for his own bed, feeling slightly guilty that she was still on the floor. When it was clear she was in a deep sleep he levitated her onto the couch and left her in peace. She was not as bad as he initially thought. Maybe they were a good match together. He sighed, leaving her alone to so he could immerse himself into his thoughts.
So Draco and Rosalind are slowly starting to realize that they probably have a lot in common, but trouble is heading their way. Thank you so much for reading! The next chapter is short because it is a flashback to Rosalind's mother's time. After that we will see quite a bit of George :)
Next chapter: Holding Out for a Hero.