In the time of the Order of the Phoenix, a mysterious transfer student from the United States of America comes to Hogwarts. With hair to rival Hermione's, and a tongue to rival Draco's, the suspicions and tensions rise in Professor Snape's classroom. And we thought Dolores Umbridge was the problem...
This story will be told in many different parts, in many different times. It will jump from the years at Hogwarts to the years after the war, and it'll be up to you to figure out the puzzle.
Ella 21
London buzzed and hummed beneath her in a haze of blacks and grays. The day was rather dreary for this crisp March morning, which should herald the first flowers of spring. The sky was muddled with gray, however, as was the skyline. This was Ella's first spring in London as a citizen.
Today was Thursday, March 22nd, 2001, and it was seven months exactly since she'd stepped off the boat from Brazil and onto English soil, where she was now a citizen. She'd missed quite a bit over those two years—the birth of Victoire, for one—but she had arrived just in time for Harry to propose to Ginny, whose wedding was in June, exactly one week before Draco's. The clock struck 8 from the wall.
She was convinced to set down roots here, in some way or another, especially after all she'd done to earn her citizenship. Her combination Coming Out Party/21st Birthday Party two weeks ago had been the highlight of all of Europe, and the pages of The Daily Prophet were still riddled with photos of her in the Lifestyle section. She was being interviewed by Witch Weekly, she was being interviewed on the radio…it was everything she had ever wanted. She was rich, famous, revered for her intellect and breakthrough potioneering skills… Everything was perfect. Wasn't it? Even smoking a cigar on the fire escape of Percy's flat felt perfect, in a way.
A puff of smoke rose in a ring, and Ella inhaled her cigar and blew out in short puffs, creating an eagle which flew through the ring's center. Her cigar was almost finished, and she'd be leaving for St. Mungo's soon. The trials on her latest invention were going well, and with every step she felt more purposeful. Thankfully, being an independent Potioneer left her plenty of time to babysit Victoire, who would be taking her first steps any day now. Wouldn't it be fabulous if Ella got to be the one to see her first steps before anyone else?
"Ella." She glanced over her shoulder to see Percy emerge from the bathroom dressed in his charcoal pinstriped suit, straightening his tie. "Bathroom's all yours, if you need it." Ella extinguished her cigar in the old flower pot on the fire escape and climbed back through the window.
"Great shirt," she mentioned, spritzing a squirt of her Appalachian Breeze Breath Spray in her mouth, shivering a bit at the icy tingle on her tongue.
Percy smiled down at the handsome purple broadcloth shirt beneath his suit jacket. "You do have excellent taste," he said.
Ella grinned and nodded pointedly to the table as she walked towards his tiny bathroom. "I made coffee and toast," she said. "You're out of eggs." She found her makeup bag in his tiny medicine cabinet and refreshed her cranberry red lipstick before joining him in the kitchenette.
"I don't see much point in having a steady supply of eggs when it's only me…" he mentioned, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
Nodding, Ella grabbed herself a mug from his tiny cabinet in his tiny kitchenette. "True, but it's not always only you." She poured herself a mug and stirred in some cream and sugar.
"Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about that—" She glanced up from her mug "—See, you're here a lot—"
"—You have a problem with that?"
"No, of course not!" Percy insisted. "In fact, I rather like it when you're here. Your company is so enjoyable. You're charming, elegant, intelligent, ambitious, exceedingly clever…" Ella sipped her coffee, nodding in agreement. Percy gulped and sipped from his mug. "I'd like it if you were here more."
"I'm here three, four times a week," argued Ella.
Percy nodded and gripped his mug in both hands. "But you never stay. In fact, it took me months to convince you to even stay the whole night."
Ella nodded and occupied herself with a piece of toast, smearing on some pumpkin butter. "All my clothes are at home," she said. "And my lab." She bit her toast. "And Phoebus."
"Phoebus is an owl," Percy insisted. "Owls can live anywhere."
"Phoebus is a very particular owl, thank you very much," she insisted, her cheek tucked full of toast.
"Don't you think Phoebus would be more comfortable in the big city? He'd have much more room to stretch his wings, so many more interesting places to fly. I should think that he'd much prefer London to Cokeworth. It's certainly a shorter flight from St. Mungo's to my flat…" It was becoming increasingly clear that they were not talking about Phoebus. "I could clear out a drawer for you. In fact, I've gotten leave from my landlady to expand the flat to make more than a drawer for you." Ella frowned and swallowed her toast. She dabbed her lips. "Move in with me," he said.
Ella blinked. "No."
Percy looked as if he'd been slapped. "At least think about it!" he insisted.
"Okay." Ella counted to three in her head, took another bite of toast, chewed, swallowed, and then said: "Still no."
"Why in the world not?" asked Percy. "Is it because we're not married?"
Nodding, Ella said "That's a factor, if only a minor one—the more major one being that everybody in my entire family still thinks I'm a virgin."
Percy got noticeably uncomfortable. "So?"
"So? So what would happen if "A mere two weeks after her Coming Out party, Socialite Ella Zamora moves in with Floo Network Authority Head Percy Weasley" is smeared all over—"
"—You are so much more than a socialite!"
"I know that, but the Witch Weekly isn't going to spin it that way, and neither is The Daily Prophet, for that matter..." Percy slumped his shoulders and looked rather defeated. "You know it's not smart."
"Since when has being smart made anybody happy?" Ella heard something in his voice that made her think this particular comment was seated in a deeper issue.
"Happiness is conditional and fickle," she said, topping off her coffee from the pot. "I like dating you, Percy, I really do. But we've only been going out for—what, four, five months? I just now came out—"
"'Coming out' is a sign of eligibility—"
"I know, I know—but I am just not ready to move in with anybody right now. Please don't rush me." A beat. "This isn't about Ginny, is it?" Percy's silence was enough of an answer. "Just because your baby sister is getting married before you are doesn't mean that you're any kind of failure." Percy frowned. "I get it. Bill's got a baby, Ginny's getting married this June. It's a lot. Your whole family is growing and moving on with their lives, and you feel left behind." Ella could also mention that Ron was thinking of proposing to Hermione soon, but that part seemed almost cruel. "I get it."
"Do you get it?"
"Do not be nasty to me!" Ella snapped. "We have not been dating long enough to even consider this, and how dare you pressure me!"
"Alright, alright—let's not argue," quelled Percy. "I don't mean to put on any pressure, but I just feel as if we've hit a plateau. I'm ready to take the next step."
Rolling her eyes, Ella snatched her pocketbook off the counter and stormed towards the bathroom, quickly stuffing her toothbrush and makeup bag inside. "Ella, please—" Ella was about to stomp out of his flat when a barn owl came swooping in through the open window. The owl circled the room and dropped an ivory envelope on the bed, perching itself on the nightstand. Percy gasped. "That's Gawain Robard's owl!" He quickly took a step towards it when the letter came to life and folded itself in the shape of a mouth to speak:
"Miss Ella Zamora,
You are hereby summoned to the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in the Auror Office's, at once.
Thank you for your cooperation,
Gawain Robard"
The envelope fell to the bed, lifeless, and the owl flew away. Percy and Ella stared at each other, wide-eyed. He quickly snatched up his briefcase and buttoned his coat. "I'll go with you," he said. Ella could hardly move, and it was only by virtue of Percy's arm around hers that she stirred from her daze.
"I thought you couldn't apparate into the Ministry of Magic," she mentioned.
Smiling as best as he could manage, he said "Being the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation has its perks." And they disappeared.
Arriving at the Ministry of Magic was always something impressive. It wasn't nearly as impressive as arriving at the Magical Congress of the United States of America, of course, but impressive nonetheless. Percy placed his hand on the small of her back and led her towards the elevators, which promptly popped them on level two. The very second that the elevator doors opened, a gaggle of reporters opened their notepads and flashed cameras in Ella's face.
Out of instinct, Ella smiled and waved where Percy cursed them and demanded they move.
"This is Ministry business! You haven't the right to impede justice!"
Questions were shouted in a buzz, too many shouting at once to hear, and Aurors pushed through the crowd to escort Ella into the office. They were surely trying to do it in a rather brutish way, but Ella simply smiled. She used her wand against her throat and adopted the most charming starlet smile she could.
"Darlings, please!" she cooed. "I have somewhere to be!" A few of them laughed as the Aurors formed a tunnel of safe passage directly to the Auror Office, whose door quickly opened and slammed shut in the face of the reporters. Sighing in relief, Ella realized that both of the Aurors were gripping onto her arm on either side. "Is that necessary?" she snapped, realizing that Percy was shut outside.
"It's alright," came a familiar, familial voice. Looking up, she saw Ron with a full five o' clock shadow(even though it had just struck 8 in the morning) and a file in his hand. Standing next to him was an older gentleman in a bowler hat with a mustache so thick she wondered if Dark Wizards would use it to catch fire should they need to make a quick escape from him. The Aurors released her and Ella walked towards them.
"Ella, this is Gawain Robard's, Head of the Auror's Office," said Ron. Ella took note of the cubicles, the other Aurors, the taupe walls, and the fact that the entire office had gone hushed at her presence.
"Thank you for coming so promptly, Miss Zamora. It's a pleasure to meet you in person," said the man in the bowler hat. "Your reputation precedes you."
"Indeed," said Ella with a curt nod. She turned to Ron. "What's going on here?" Her ginger-haired cousin looked to Robard in question, who in turn gestured to his left.
"My office, if you please," he said. Ella searched behind his brown eyes, and was immediately blocked, his mind closed. She turned to Ron. "No occlumency, madam," said Robard. "All will be explained in due time."
Mildly offended, Ella dug her heels into the carpet. "All will be explained now—you have summoned me to the Ministry of Magic, as is your right, but the fact that I am now in the Auror's office means that I must be informed as to why. Otherwise, you have no legal right to hold me here and I may leave at my leisure."
Robard sighed through his nose. "This is a very serious matter, Miss Zamora—"
"—I wouldn't know, considering I've been kept in the dark about it—"
"—Sir," Ron interrupted, "Please, if I could just explain the situation to her?" There was a very tense moment. Ella took a step towards Ron and put her hand on his shoulder.
"I'll speak to my cousin, and only my cousin, thank you very much." Robard's eyes shifted to Ron.
"Just ten minutes, sir," Ron insisted. The Head Auror finally nodded, and Ron put his arm around Ella's shoulders to escort her down the hall. They made quick left, and then a right, and through a door which—to Ella's surprise—the Auror office's kitchen. The light seemed rather foul in here, or perhaps it was just the tan walls and the white tile floor. There was a blue kettle that was whistling "Do The Hippogriff" on the cast iron burner. Ron opened the cupboard and turned to her.
"It's Earl gray that you prefer, innit?" Ella nodded. He took two bags from the box and set up two cups on saucers, and poured the kettle's contents in to let the tea steep. He nodded pointedly to the small table in the middle of the room; Ella hesitantly sat and crossed her ankles, folding her hands atop her pocketbook. "Four sugars?" he asked, holding up the sugar cube dish.
"That had better not be what I think it is," warned Ella.
Ron gave a laugh. "Though it'd make it easier, I wouldn't presume to use your own invention against you. Seems inherently wrong, that…" He demonstrated the fact that he wasn't using her patented Veritasucre—a powdered version of Veritaserum combined with sugar, pressed into cubes, perfect for slipping to the unsuspected—by tossing the cube up and catching it in his open mouth. Satisfied, Ella nodded and allowed Ron to drop in four cubes and stir to dissolve. "Explain to me again how we're cousins?" he asked.
"Your brother, Bill, married my cousin, Fleur," stated Ella with a tiny shrug.
"Right, but how exactly are we related?" asked Ron, gesturing with the teaspoon.
Ella sort of laughed through her nose. The idea of being related to Ron Weasley was a bit odd, considering she was also sleeping with his brother…that, and the fact that they looked like polar opposites of each other. The only thing they had in common was the fact that they both had freckles and they were both reasonably tall.
"Well, let's see… Fleur's father's mother was none other than Danae Christophe, my grandmother Helene's sister. Danae married into the Delacour family, and is Fleur's paternal grandmother. Helene married into the Spelling family, had my mother, who then had me… So, since Fleur is my second cousin, that means you are, too, by marriage."
He brought her cup and saucer and sat down across from her, a puzzled look on his face. "So... You're my second cousin-in-law?"
"In so many words," Ella replied. There was a tiny pause before they both burst into a gentle laugh. "I guess it does sound sort of silly when you say it out loud." They smiled at each other. She noticed his shirt, which was a hand-me-down from Percy, to be slightly stained with sweat around the collar. Ron was stressed.
"How are you?" he then asked. Ella didn't feel any tension or hidden motives in his question, so she answered honestly.
"Present situation aside, I'm doing fairly well," she resolved. "Turns out I should thank Minister Shacklebolt for sending me to South America." Ron laughed a bit through his nose. "You look tired."
Ron nodded and rubbed the space between his eyes. "I've been up all night," he admitted. "Every case I tell myself 'this is the last one', but it all keeps on coming…" He sighed. "I'm retiring at the end of this case. This time for real. I'm done with dealings in Dark Wizards."
Ella nodded. "I can only imagine the toll this has taken on you," she said. Ron gulped his tea. "But you can't forget all the good you've done here. You guys have veritably revolutionized the way things are done in the Auror's office—only a fool could say otherwise."
"Well, I'm still leaving and that's that." He sounded resolute. Perhaps this was the subject of a fight between Hermione and himself?
"I don't blame you at all," said Ella. "Do you have career plans once you retire?"
"I was thinking…going to help George manage his joke shop." He smiled at the thought. "Figure I'd rather make people laugh than anything else. People can always use a laugh."
"Joy is a powerful weapon in dark times," said Ella, who only pretended to sip her tea, just in case there were any traces of Veritasucre inside. She licked her lips and found no trace of her invention at all on them, just some old sugar cubes from an old cupboard. "Take care of number one first and foremost." He smiled. Ella put her hand on his and squeezed. "What's going on?"
"Well," began Ron, sipping his tea. "There's no other way to say it, really… There's been a murder."
"Oh, Lord," Ella gasped. "Who?"
A beat. Ron gulped. "Lucius Malfoy. In his own home."
Something hit the pit of Ella's stomach and her heart leapt to her throat. Her hand went to her chest in shock; she wasn't sure what to say. "I…" She could barely form a thought. "How's Draco?" came spilling out of her mouth.
Ron sighed through his nose and he leaned back in his chair. "We've apprehended him at Gringott's. He was attempting to make a very large withdrawal. He's on his way in, now."
"'Apprehended?'" Ron didn't say anything, which caused the wheels in Ella's mind to turn. "You think he did it?"
"We don't know. I doubt it, but the fact of the matter is he was trying to leave the country."
She narrowed her eyes. "And you know that because?"
"He had a ticket to New York City in his pocket," said Ron. He seemed to be watching her for a response, which was fairly useless, considering Ella was more confused now than ever. "It was for this afternoon. He was taking a boat."
Ella frowned and narrowed her eyes in thought. "I don't understand," she simply stated.
Lucius Malfoy, murdered, in his own home; the very thought wasn't entirely foreign, as stranger things had happened. The man, though a Death Eater, was a historically awful one, and one that had switched sides at the last minute. The culprit could have been anyone, though likely a fellow Death Eater. Draco and his father were at odds, certainly, but Ella was certain that Draco didn't have the stomach to murder anyone, let alone his own father.
"Ella." Ron's voice snapped her out of her daze. He looked very serious. "I need to know where you were the evening of the 19th."
A sudden realization came over her as to why she was here. "You think I did it," she whispered, shocked.
"No—"
"Then Harry thinks I did it," she snapped, feeling a little more than miffed.
"Harry thinks you can help," insisted Ron. "Please. I just need to know where you were."
"Why do you need to know where I was if you 'think I can help?'" demanded Ella, looking down her nose.
Ron looked over Ella's shoulder to make sure that nobody was coming. He peeked into the file and looked up at his cousin. Searching his eyes, she saw that he was about to break the law by showing her something she oughtn't to see. "It was done with poison, and it's a kind of poison we've never seen before." Ron slipped her the resident Potioneer's analysis. He hushed his voice to a low whisper. "I think they're barking to think you did it," he said. "But the fact of the matter is Malfoy was going to America, right after his father disinherited him—"
"—Disinherited?" repeated Ella in confusion. "Then who the hell—?" She shook her head. "Back up. Did Draco tell you this?"
"No," whispered Ron, gesturing for Ella to keep her voice down. "Mrs. Malfoy told us. The night he was found dead, there was a fight…and we think it's about you." There was a very tense pause. Ron glanced over to ensure that nobody else was coming. "Listen. It could be anyone. S'not like he was the most popular bloke in the world. Frankly, I'd like to shake the hand of whoever did it." Ella was internally shocked at Ron's callousness. "But whoever did it was smart: they set it up to be a suicide. We don't know if he was Imperiused or if he actually did himself in, but the fact is that it was done with a poison that nobody recognizes, and only hours after Malfoy Junior was kicked out of the manor for good."
Ella leaned back in the chair and pressed her palms together, the tips of her fingers touching her lips in thought. If today was the 22nd, the 19th was on a Monday evening. Saturday, the 17th, was the last time Ella had seen Draco, and his parents.
The evening of the 17th, Ella was attending Mrs. Zabini's party, where many a ministry official had been. Ella had invited Hermione as her date in hopes that dressing her up and proving that she could be more than the stuffy lawyer type would impress the Ministry officials attending enough to consider passing her S.P.E.W. bill into law—because, after all, that's sometimes how things are done. Ella had even let Hermione borrow one of her black gowns for the event where Ella went in dress slacks, a slim-fit black t-shirt, and pointed-toed ballet flats with a bangle here and there…she hadn't even put her hair up, simply let it wave down her back in its natural curls. Hermione was the one that needed to get the attention, of course, that evening, and not Ella.
In addition to Ella, Mrs. Zabini, Blaise(of course), Hermione, and Draco, the known attendees were her father, Professor Slughorn, the Hollyhead Harpies' manager, a few Ministry secretaries, many of the officials working in the Department of Magical Law enforcement, Teddy Nott, Daphne, and—of course—Draco's fiancé, Astoria, and his parents, Lucius and Narcissa. There were surely a few house elves running around and likely the dates of all of those people—whom Ella didn't know all of—but that was it. Something happened between then and the following Monday to stress all of this into occurrence. But what?
Lucius Malfoy wasn't the most amiable Wizard in the world, to put it lightly, and, though he had experienced a great deal of turmoil during the War, he was still a powerful wizard that had still somehow snaked his way out of Azkaban once the war was over. Lucius Malfoy was a powerful wizard and he wouldn't be killed lightly. Ella closed her eyes and entered her mind.
The party was clamoring with music and dancing, a grand orchestra and floating candelabras. The Zabini estate's ballroom had high ceilings and everything she owned was in polished shades of gold and silver, opulent to the point of being gauche. In her memory, she had just entered the room, Hermione was on her left, dressed to the nines and beyond. Her gown was her beaded black with silver stripes of sequins and jewels in the tuile mermaid shape of the skirt, with a very dramatic dip in the back. Ella had styled her makeup and her hair, and she took her time to install just the right bits of jewelry on her ears and hands.
First came the introductions, and Ella circled around the room with Hermione on her arm to make sure she was introduced to everyone—and we do mean everyone—quickly and politely, before hurriedly escorting her to the next guest. Then came the first dance, and she had all but dragged Hermione and Blaise together to lead the first one. Blaise reluctantly accepted, like the good friend he was, and twirled her Gryffindor friend all around the room. Ella watched to make sure everyone else was watching, and had her first whiskey of the night.
Her father was there, talking with Mrs. Zabini, and at a point between her second and third whiskey, the Malfoys arrived. Lucius and Narcissa came down the staircase first, dressed all in black, and then Astoria and Draco arrived. Astoria looked just lovely, in a floor-length gown with long gloves, her dark hair perfectly styled and her lips painted perfectly red. It was hard to imagine Daphne's little sister as the future Witch of Malfoy Manor, but that was neither here nor there.
"Ella." Annoyed, Ella opened her eyes. Ron was staring at her, his red brows tilted up. "Please tell me where you were on the night of the 19th."
Deciding to enter her mind palace at a later date, she puffed her bangs up off her forehead and sat up straight. "The 19th was a Monday." Ron nodded. "Let's see…" She shook her head in thought, trying to find the right door in her mind for Monday the 19th. Be vague, she reminded herself. Her father was a lawyer, and one of the things he'd always told her was that nobody remembered specifics of times, so to seem more realistic on alibis, one must be vague. "I work at St. Mungo's Hospital. I'm a Potioneer." She wasn't going to say what she was working on; it didn't matter, especially now that she knew the cause of Lucius's death… "I usually get there around nine in the morning."
"What else can you tell me?"
Ella shrugged. "I had eggs and toast for breakfast," she said.
Ron gave her a look. "What time did you go home?"
"I'm not sure," she initially answered. "It was dark, I can tell you that… Either late night or early morning… But I do know that it was passed midnight." Ella tried to enter her mind again. When did she see the clock? She had made a breakthrough in one of her projects and was working late into it. She was close to finding a cure, she could tell—she could smell it. It was coming. She was going to be the Witch that went down in history for curing—
"Is there anybody who can tell us where you were?" Ron's voice interrupted her train of thought.
More than annoyed, Ella sighed through her nose. How was she ever going to give an answer if Ron didn't let her complete a thought? "The staff at St. Mungo's?" she snapped. "The people I work with every day?" She suddenly recalled the last time she saw a clock—it was the clock on Percy's nightstand at 3 a.m. "Wait…"
If she mentioned that, it was going to go to scandal. High profile murder cases like this were all the rage for the press, and she was going to be smeared like paint if anybody knew she was sleeping around, with the Head of Magical Transportation, no less… "Wait." She then said. "The clock on the nightstand said 3 a.m. when I finally made it to bed." There. Vague. It was the truth, it was just specific enough, but it didn't mention which bed she was in.
Ron let out a huge sigh of relief and slunk back in his chair. "Good," he said. "That's good. I knew you didn't do it. I knew it. I knew you wouldn't waste your potions on that git."
"I should say not," agreed Ella, if only for the sake of getting Ron on her side—how she actually felt about the whole thing was: dreadful. "I don't make poisons. I almost never have. I make cures. Always."
Ron's hand came over the top of hers. "I know. I tried to tell them."
"Who's 'them' if not Harry?"
Ron opened his mouth to speak when the door burst open, and a man of average height and a square form came bursting in, followed by a great deal of commotion.
"Daddy!" Ella gasped. "What are you—?"
"Get your coat, we're leaving—"
"—But I didn't have a coat—"
Robard and Harry were right on his heels, and he turned to them to snap "You summoned a Witch from her home and didn't even allow her time to get her coat?!" Ella's heart raced—he was in full Lawyer-mode and there was no stopping him.
Harry tried to wedge himself between Ella and her father; this was the first time she'd seen him in awhile and he was looking more than a little ragged. "Sir, you can't do this—she's part to our—"
"You know what, Mister Potter, I'll tell you what you can't do—" began Daddy, his narrow eyes narrowing further as he wagged his finger "—you can't use an Owl to summon a Witch to the Auror's office for interrogation, nor can you do so without telling her why, oh—and this is just classic—you really can't take her into custody without first informing her of her rights, which you would know had you actually graduated school—"
"—Mister Zamora! This is highly irregular—" shouted Robard.
"—Oh, so it's highly irregular to have legal representation present when interrogation is taking place in a high-profile murder trial?" Daddy adopted the tone he tended to adopt when he was being mocking and scathing, sprinkling in a few chuckles along the way. "Oh, forgive me—I thought that Great Britain was an actual developed country with rights for its—" He pointed to Ella "—citizens, especially ones that are recognized, revolutionary Potioneers that have not only fought for this God damn country, but travelled to the God damn jungles of Brazil for this country, and—oh, Ellie, what did you also do? Oh that's right I forgot—you're the citizen who developed a powdered fertilizer that, when mixed with dry, African clay-like soil, can cause the growth of crops, that—how did The Daily Prophet put it?—Oh that's right: saved an entire province of No-Majs that were on the brink of death from starvation with—sweetie, what did you call it? What was the powder? Maybe you've heard of it, Mister Robard's: it's called Engorgi-grow. Ever hear of it? No? Oh, here's one you might have heard of—another one of my client's inventions—it's called Veritasucre. Ever hear of that one? Or use it? Illegally? To interrogate Dark Wizards or former Death Eaters?"
Everyone was tense; Robard was shaking. Daddy smiled; God his teeth were huge. If Ella knew her father, she knew he'd already gotten enough leverage to get her out of there and smear absolutely everyone in that office to Hell and back. She had to act carefully. Ella stood and clutched her pocketbook, then put her hand on her father's suited shoulder.
"Daddy—"
He brought his hand up. "—Let me do the talking."
"Sir, please, we understand—" began Harry, who was being uncharacteristically level-headed.
"Oh, do you, Mister Potter? Do you understand how rules work? How laws work?" He then adopted that mocking chuckle again. "See, that's funny—you're a funny man, Mister Potter—I must've misunderstood when you said that you understand how this works when you have done absolute zero to show anyone that you actually do understand how rules work." Daddy reached into his briefcase and pulled out an extraordinarily thick file, that floated in the air and flipped through the pages—it was all of Harry's cases. "Fascinating, you seem to be quite rule-breaker, all the way back to age eleven—" Ella gestured violently for Harry to stay quiet over her father's shoulder at Harry, who—thank God—caught sight of. "—Oh, yes, quite a bit of disregard for the rules, and I must say that's quite a bit of special treatment for quite a bit of trouble…" He flipped through the files. "And your methods in catching Dark Wizards, enforcing law—rather irregular, wouldn't you agree? I've personally found—just this morning of looking through these cases—about seventy-four instances of clear violations of the by-laws about proper conduct when dealing with the catching, interrogation, and engagement of Dark Wizards, all before my morning coffee—I wonder what I could find when I'm properly caffeinated, Mister Potter?"
Over her father's shoulder, Ella flailed and waved at Harry to keep – the – fuck – quiet no matter what, and it was a damn miracle that he did. Harry nodded and gestured out the door for them to leave. Daddy narrowed his eyes, again, and got close to Harry.
"You want my client's help, you go through me. Understand, Mister Potter?" Harry nodded. "Excellent." Daddy took Ella by the arm and power-strode out, while Ella turned and mouthed 'I am so sorry' to the Aurors in the kitchen. The door slammed behind her and they walked together through the office, out the door and into the main corridor, where the throng of reporters had been—oddly—cleared.
"Daddy, what are you doing here?" Ella demanded.
"I save my daughter from interrogation and I get "Daddy what are you doing here"?"
"Interrogati—I was just talking to Ron, and he was doing his best—"
"An undereducated Auror doing his best does not a solid case make," he said. Ella sighed through her nose, a little defeated. "You okay?" She nodded, smiling as best she could. "You know this is a murder case, don't you?" Ella nodded, feeling sick to her stomach. "So you know how serious this is." Ella nodded again. "Okay." He rubbed her back in a comforting way. "Here's what's going to happen: you'll come to my office, we'll get your statement to release to the press, we'll put together your alibi and case, and go from there."
Daddy, from what Ella understood, had put his career for Congress on hold when he learned that Hardman Red Feather was partnering with a firm in London, and decided to head up the merger himself. He had an office in West End, where the firm was. Ella thought he was going back to America—he'd apparently put that on hold as well.
"And another thing—what the hell is this rumor I've heard about you?" Ella tensed. "The rumor that you're a No-Maj-born that we adopted?" Ella closed her eyes and sighed through her nose. "Ella, look at me—" She was so fucking tired of this; she opened her eyes and looked at her father, who was gesturing to her face. "Look at those eyes. Look at those lips. Look at those high, high cheekbones with the full cheeks. Look at that coloring of yours." A beat. "You're mine. Okay? You – are – mine."
Ella sighed through her lips, avoiding her father's gaze. She nodded silently.
"Who even spread this rumor?" Daddy already knew the answer, and was likely trying to get a gauge for how truthful Ella felt like being. For the sake of keeping things easy, Ella said:
"It was me. I said it. It was stupid rumor to freak out some horrible bigot when I was sixteen—and I frankly can't believe it's survived for five years."
Daddy frowned. There was a very long pause. "Sweetheart, what's going on with you lately, huh?" Ella shrugged. "Why are you being like this?" Ella said nothing. "You're dealing with a lot right now," he concluded, nodding to himself. "Okay, that settles it. I'm moving to London."
"What?!" Ella thrilled.
"Oh, so she speaks now—"
"—Daddy, what?! Why are you moving to London?!"
He frowned. "I don't know if you've noticed, but it has become increasingly clear that my daughter is in deep need of familial support, and I intend to give it to her—"
"—Daddy," Ella began, gesturing pointedly with her finger. "Do not – I repeat – do not move to London."
"And why the hell don't you want me moving to London?"
"Because I'm twenty-one years old and I don't need my dad looking over my shoulder every ten minutes—!"
"Au contraire, I think that is exactly what you need right now—especially after everything you've been through—"
"—What are you talking about?!"
"I don't know—" he adopted a mock-thoughtful tone "Maybe the war, the death of your Godfather, the war, living with your grandmother for two years straight, the war, the dingy suburb of Dickensville you now live in, the war, being forced into indentured servitude to earn your citizenship in Brazil, the goddamn war, the fact that you spent a fair portion of your magical education being a goddamn—"
"—Okay I get it!" whispered Ella in horror. "Will you please—?"
"—Please what? Stop caring about my daughter? I am so, so sorry that I've somehow annoyed you with my fatherly love—"
"—Daddy, you can't just pick up and move to London. What about New York City? Congress? What about Sheila and the girls? They'll need you way more than I will. I am a self-sufficient woman and they aren't. Maybe you should focus on the girls that actually need their dad holding their hand…"
"Do not defer this conversation to be about your sisters—"
"—'Stepsisters.'"
"Ellie, the point is that you need me right now. And don't say that you're fine, because you are not fine—"
To Ella's horror, tears were welling in her eyes. "Do not—do not –smother me right now—GOD why is everyone trying to smother me—?!"
"Hey-hey-hey, come on—" He put his hand on her shoulder and took in a big, deep breath, signaling for her to do the same, which she begrudgingly did. "Ellie, come on—big breath in, big breath out. Good. Now, let's try… 'I feel…'?"
"'I feel,'" began Ella, gritting her teeth, infuriated at being treated like she was ten again. "Angry. I also feel confused, and therefore more angry about the confusion. And I'm truthfully appalled by this entire thing. I mean, I only met the guy once or twice, but I don't think anybody really deserves to be murdered in their own home. As awful as he was, Lucius Malfoy was still a husband and a father..." Her voice cracked. She thought of her mother, of how she felt when she'd heard the news of her death. Draco loved his father so much; he was the God and the weight of his world. She could hear her own weeping from the echoes of her mind, for Lucius, for Narcissa, for Draco...no matter the hardship they may have caused her in the past.
Daddy wrinkled his nose in thought. "Do you think that you feel this way because of who's father it is?"
Ella's skin became rather prickly. "What does that mean?!" she whispered.
Daddy's eyes softened. "Ellie, if you really are this angry all the time, then there is nobody but me to blame for it." Ella rolled her eyes. "Sweetheart, please; this is what daddies do. They ride in when their little girls need help, slay the dragon, and—weather permitting—we get a parade." Ella laughed a little. "Now, do you really not want me to move to London?"
She sighed deeply. "I just don't want you to feel like you have to move to London. I'm out of the house, now. I've got my own house and my own life and my own career…"
"And your own boyfriend that I'm still not allowed meeting…"
"Daddy!" whispered Ella, appalled.
"I just don't think you like him very much," he said with a shrug. "I personally think you're this close to breaking up."
A little hurt, Ella shifted uncomfortably. "How can you say that?"
"Easy: I breathe in through my lungs – like this – " he took in a big breath " – and I think a thing with my brain and use my lungs and brain and push it out of my face, kind of like I'm doing now—"
"—And the dad-jokes rear their ugly head—"
"—All I'm saying is that you were begging me to fly that Malfoy kid over for Christmas when you were sixteen—"
"—Probably because I was sixteen and stupid—"
"—And now I can't even get a name for this one."
Defeated, Ella puffed her bangs up off her forehead. "Fine. Percy."
A beat. "Percy," Daddy repeated. Ella nodded. He pursed his lips, opening his hand. "That's it? Just Percy? Like Merlin with the one name—?"
"—Weasley. Percy Weasley. Percy Ingatius Weasley. He's Ron's older brother, and Bill's younger brother."
Daddy narrowed his eyes and sort of squished up his nose in a way that a rat might, which certainly didn't help since he had the biggest damn teeth in the world. "You made that up, didn't you? That name sounds so made up…"
"So 'Draco Malfoy' is somehow more realistic?"
"I'm just saying who names a kid 'Bill' and then in the same breath names another one 'Percy'?" Daddy's expression softened when he saw Ella's face. "Okay. So you like him. He likes you. He makes you happy?" Ella nodded. He was trying to get her to open up to him, now, by staying silent. Ella couldn't stand silences and had the compulsion to fill them at every breath. Truly, Daddy's silence was a sick form of psychological torment… Fortunately, he was feeling gracious, and broke the silence with: "Ellie, I know you're not alright. What can I do?"
Truthfully, Ella hadn't any idea what he could do. She was feeling uncharacteristically sluggish that morning and she could only guess that it was because of what Percy had asked her over the toast. She took in a deep breath through her nose and sighed out through her lips. She didn't know what she wanted next; she felt unstable and somehow afraid. Her attention was then brought to the sound of Percy's voice, and the sight of Draco being escorted in handcuffs by a pair of Aurors with Percy in tow. "Help him," came a voice, unfamiliar. Ella hadn't realized until there was a slight altercation between Percy and her father in the hallway that the voice had been her own.
Ella knew she should jump in, but was almost afraid to approach their argument, which was likely something she didn't ultimately need to hear anyway. Draco's eyes were red, his normally impeccable skin rather sallow. Ella felt a pang in her heart, sort of like the pressure of forcing something to crack or crush. Her palms went clammy and her toes curled in her green shoes. Draco looked so sick, so grief-stricken. He didn't kill his father, resolved Ella. Draco wasn't a killer; he wasn't guilty, he was in shock. Draco's pale eyes widened when he noticed that the lawyer freeing him from his handcuffs was Ella's father. He looked up and met Ella's gaze. She did her best to smile and nod, to send him a piece of what little courage she had within her heart; he broke away from the Aurors and rushed to her side. Ella was so paralyzed with the entire scene that she didn't notice his hand coming to brush her cheek until she felt his thumb wipe away a tear she'd unconsciously shed.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her lip trembling. "I'm so, so sorry." Draco nodded with a very weak smile. Her hand came up to grip his; they felt cold. "I'm sorry, Draco." He smiled; he took a gray handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. Ella gave a laugh and dabbed her eyes. "Oh, gracious, I'm a mess."
"Join the club," he croaked, grinning. His voice sounded so heartbreakingly different, so deep and rough. Was he okay? Had he been keeping up with his health? Seeing him like this was such a shocking change to the party the other night. And he was on his way to America? Ella's mind raced with a million questions, and she scarcely noticed Percy and her father fighting, much less what it was about. She didn't care.
"Draco, I..."
Something shifted within her. She got a whiff of a familiar, floral scent...a white violet? Everything went silent, except for the scrape of Draco's footstep toward her. His shadow fell over her face and she closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath as his lips pressed against hers. Her knees gave weigh and she felt herself melt into his lithe body; she dropped her pocketbook on the floor and curled her fingers through his silvery hair. His arms snaked around her waist and crushed her pleasingly against his frame. Ella felt electricity when she felt his tongue on her lips, which she eagerly parted to deepen their kiss. I love you, she heard, somewhere. Maybe it was him...
"Ahem."
They quickly parted and looked to their respective lefts and rights. Daddy had his arms crossed with one hand over his lips in thought; Percy was looking more than a little flabbergasted. Looking over her shoulder, Ella realized that Harry, Ron, and Robard were all staring open-mouthed at the scene. Ella's eyes went wide when she realized how this looked, and snatched her pocketbook off the floor and calmly walked to the floos. Nobody said a single word as she disappeared in a tornado of green flames, and before she knew it she was back in her home in Cokeworth.
Entering through the library, she set her pocketbook down, took her shoes off, and went upstairs. Phoebus was already asleep on his perch, which was right by her four-poster bed. Ella drew the blinds on her windows and decided to go back to sleep, hoping that she'd wake up and this would all be some sort of Firewhiskey-induced dream.
What a long chapter! What a LOT Of shit going down! And Draco and Ella were just flat-out MAKING OUT in the middle of the Ministry floor? Wth?!
So, yes, Lucius Malfoy's dead. Ding dong. More stuff is coming and we're about a third done with the story. Thanks to all that have been sticking it out with me! I'm so thrilled to have followers, especially HeartofAspen, my faithful reviewer! I really hope you guys enjoyed this crazy chapter, as I had a fun time writing it!
Oh, and for anyone that's curious about Ella's father, River...look up Louis Litt from Suits. He's essentially that guy.