Chapter 31
Draco took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It had been a few days since he had brought Alecto back to the manor, and she refused to leave him alone. If he left a room she left the room, If he went outside for a stroll in the garden she was followed. The woman even insisted that she sleep with Draco. That, however, is where he firmly drew the line. He refused to have anyone except the actual Hermione in his bed. So she transfigured the lounger to a small bed for herself on the opposite side of the room. He was sure, if this kept up much longer, Draco himself would murder her and everyone else in the rebellion because Alecto had driven him mad.
It just so happened that this was the same weekend that Portia Zabini had planned for her annual birthday vacation in Venice. Much to Draco's relief, Portia had invited his mother to join her this year. Draco had never been so grateful for Blaise's mother's frivolous trips and spending habits. If that was by Portia's own intentions or some persuasive comment from his mother, Draco did not know or care. Draco looked up from his breakfast at the impostor, oh the cruel horrible things he wanted to do to that woman. She looked up from her food and gave Draco a dry smirk, and Draco growled at her in pure hatred.
She looked like she was about to say something when the crack of a house elf interrupted her. Bobby trotted over to Draco and placed the morning's issue of the Daily Prophet on the table beside his silverware and then delivered Alecto her own Prophet. "Will there be anything else you need?" Bobby chirped nervously.
"No, thank you," Draco's voice was brusk, he was trying to keep conversation to an absolute minimum with Alecto here. He stabbed at his eggs and sausage angrily and, with a pop, Bobby was gone.
Whatever Alecto had been about to say was now gone as she was looking over the front page of the Prophet, an evil smile growing on her face. The sight made Draco's stomach turn, never had Hermione looked so cruel. "Looks like we'll be heading in to town today Draco," Hermione's voice purred but Alecto's words said.
Draco narrowed his eyes and looked down at the paper beside him, bold letters written across the top, Azkaban Escapees Attack! Just below the title, in a only slightly smaller text, was "What is the Ministry Doing About it?" Draco ground his teeth, he knew this attack would be coming and he had been trying desperately to get a message to Potter, but Alecto had sent away all the owls and cast a ward to prevent any patronus from entering or leaving the premises, not that Draco could produce a patronus anyhow, but she was being annoyingly thorough. He looked up from the paper at Alecto, a smug look on Hermione's features.
"You ready to play puppet, Drakey?" Her voice curled around the words like an eel.
The Auror's department had exploded with frantic action, people left and right were running up to Harry, getting instructions on what to do next. The explosion in Diagon Alley at the Muggle's Merch shop had rocked the ministry. There had been no tip offs, signs, or even hints that the Death Eaters were going to attack, and yet, somehow, all three of the Azkaban escapees had been seen at the scene of the crime and none of them had been caught.
Harry growled in frustration as he slammed to door to his office. A fit of rage overtook him as he roared in frustration, knocking things off his desk. He knew something was wrong, he knew that was not Hermione and, from the look on Draco's face, he knew it was someone dangerous. He slammed his fists on the desk, which meant someone far more dangerous had Hermione.
Harry had been desperately been trying to get a hold of Draco, he had sent owls, patronus, he even tried the floo. The owls came back, letters still attached, patronus went and never came back, and the floo had been cut off. In a last ditch attempt, Harry tried calling Hermione's cell, hoping that it had been left at the Manor, but the call went straight to voicemail.
There was a knock at Harry's door. "WHAT?!" He bellowed as he spun around to see who wanted him now, but his heart fell as he saw his poor assistant timidly pushing open the door.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Kingsley has called for a press briefing and would like you there to give updates on this morning's attack," her voice shaking slightly.
Harry slumped. "I'm sorry, Meaghan, I shouldn't have yelled liked that." She had been working for Harry for several years by now, and never had he spoken to her like that. She was a true Hufflepuff, always trying to please everyone and working diligently until the work was done. Harry was so fortunate to have such a loyal, hard-working secretary.
"It's fine, Mr. Potter, I understand, but you need to leave now if you're going to make it to the press briefing," she warned kindly.
Harry nodded and passed her as he exited his office. He wasn't sure what he was going to say about the attack, they had very little information other than it happened and who did it. Harry set his jaw, he was sure that Kingsley was going to hang him out to dry, after all, it was his department. Harry finally made it down to the Atrium, where the press briefings were held. Kingsley stood in front of the Atrium sculpture, a small podium off to the side and a group of reporters stood a few feet back snapping pictures and scribbling things down even though the briefing had yet to begin. Kingsley looked frustrated and irritated when he spotted Harry.
Harry strode across the Atrium and shook Kingsley's hand. Harry and Kingsley decided a long time ago that whenever they addressed the press they made a good show of working together. "Kingsley," Harry greeted, his voice gruff.
Kingsley shook Harry's hand back. "It's going to be a rough one today, Harry." His voice as frustrated and strained as he appeared.
Harry nodded his head and set his jaw, that was basically a "Hey, I'm about to feed you to the hounds"
if Harry ever heard it. Kingsley let go and the two men walked up to the podium. Kingsley took his place just behind it and Harry stood to his right. A barrage of flashing ensued for a few moments and the two men stood silently letting the press get their photos.
"As you have all heard," Kingsley broke the silence and the room fell quiet with the sound of his voice, "there was an attack on a business in Diagon Alley early this morning. This business was a owned by a muggleborn, who sold common muggle items. Both the owner and the employee who were attending the store today were killed in the attack, along with two patrons." Kingsley paused to let the reports take notes, and in a minute or two, he proceeded, his voice grave. "My fellow wizards and witches, when Mr. Potter destroyed Voldemort, he took down with him generations of prejudice against people born to muggle families, and since that day, we, as a society, have been trying to heal old wounds and pave a way for a new bright future, where a Witch or Wizard is not judged but their partentage, but by they themselves, and while we have come a long way since the second wizarding war, it is still clear that we still have a long way to go. But, I plead with you, do not let terrorists like this poison your hearts, because that's when they win. We, here at the ministry, are working diligently to find the suspects and are doing our best to thwart any future attacks, but we need your help. If you are approached by someone, if you hear or see something, please contact the Auror department immediately. I will now hand it over to Mr. Potter who is the Head of the Auror department." Kingsley nodded, stepped back, and let Harry take his place.
Harry took a deep breath and stepped up to the Podium, looking at the sea of faces before him, a look of concern on almost all of them. "Thank you, Minster," he started, there were a few more flashes. "Today at 9:34 this morning, three Azkaban escapees Augustus Rookwood, Antonin Dolohov, Theodore Nott Sr., attacked Muggles Merch, owned by Justin Finch-Fletchley." Harry paused for moment. "He and Mary Raute, Steven Brown, and Crystal Creevy, were murdered in the attack. The assailants apparated into Diagon Alley, just in front of the store, casting a combination of Confringo Curse and the killing curse. This combination ensured the explosion of the building and murder of all of those inside. Shortly after the attack, they apparated away from the scene to an unknown location." Hands shot up among the crowds of reporters. "I'll take questions after I'm done." Harry continued, "we are currently working on the whereabouts of the assailants, so please if you hear or see anything either come to the Auror department, or send us an owl." Harry scanned the room, but a flash of platinum hair caught his eye, and he saw Malfoy standing at the very back of the crowd watching him very carefully, Hermione standing beside him, smiling up at Harry. Harry's heart clenched, was it possible this was the real Hermione again? Another camera flash brought his attention back to the herd of reporters. "I'll now take questions."
The room exploded with arms and shouting, people all over were trying to get Harry's attention, and so Harry started the arduous task of answering the questions he could with explanations that were both informative yet not compromising to the case, something that he had become very adept at over the years. He had made it through half a dozen questions when noticed that Malfoy had moved closer to the podium and now stood in the middle of the press pool. Harry gave Malfoy a calculating look and was taken aback when Draco raised his own hand.
"Mr. Malfoy," Harry called, watching him with suspicion. It was then that Harry could feel someone on his mind, rustling around in his memories.
"I was just wondering, Mr. Potter," the presence grew stronger in Harry's mind as Malfoy spoke, "how are we supposed to trust you to catch the escapees when they have been on the run for more than six months now and you are nowhere near close to catching them?"
An image of a long wooden table appeared in Harry vision, almost as if he were there in the dimly lit room. Yaxley sat across from him, Dolohov, and Rookwood stood on either side and, at the far end of the room, sat Nott and Lucius. Harry furrowed his brow as his vision cleared and he saw Draco standing before him still. Malfoy's presence hung heavily in his head however. "Mr. Malfoy, I assure you we are doing everything in our power to catch the assailants, but unless you have pertinent information to give us, then please keep your criticisms to yourself."
"Actually, I won't," Malfoy continued. "It seems to me that your department has been sitting around with their wands up their arse while innocent witches and wizards are being murdered, and I, for one, have had enough."
A new image came to the forethought of Harry's mind. He was again sitting across from Yaxley when when a loud noise caught his attention on the other side of the table. Alecto and Amycus Carrow came bursting through the doors with a woman slung over Amycus' shoulders and, with a loud thump, she was thrown down on the table. Harry kept up trying to fight back the other wizards as Hermione craned back to look him in the eye. An angry growl escaped from Harry. "Mr. Malfoy, if it was simple to catch dark witches and wizards they would allow the likes of you to do it. Investigations take time and work, these things don't happen overnight."
Malfoy smirked up at Harry. "Maybe the likes of me is what the department desperately needs, since you have proven to be so ineffective."
"You see, Draco, we have been working long term to destabilize the Ministry, first with the random murders, then the Azkaban escape." The image skipped forward a bit in his mind. "You want me to be your puppet?" Harry heard Draco say in his mind. The image skipped again, he was now standing over Hermione, almost cradling her in his arms. Yaxley leaned over the table towards him. "Yes." A cruel smile over Yaxley's face. "With her, I control you." Harry glared at Draco. "That's all." Harry left the podium as more yelling and flashing ensued.
The pool of press descended on Draco.
"Mr. Malfoy, do you plan to speak to the minster about the ineffectiveness of the Auror department?!" someone yelled.
Draco shrugged and a know-it-all grin crossed his face. "I'm not entirely sure the minster is even doing his job well, truth be told."
"Mr. Malfoy!" Someone else exclaimed. "Does this mean you mean to make a bid for the minister's position?!"
Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm neither saying here nor there, simply that our leadership has been severely lacking, and I can not be the only one looking for better stronger change in law enforcement. People are afraid to leave their houses once again. Maybe it's time that we put our trust in stronger leadership."
"Do you really think with your family history that such claims are acceptable?!" called another.
"Look, my father made some regrettable choice that my mother and I were forced to abide by. I am not my father, and I have chosen a different path than he did." On cue, the Hermione impostor slipped under his arm and kissed him sweetly on the cheek, it made Draco's skin crawl but he showed no sign of it.
"Miss. Granger!" someone yelled as the flicking of flashes nearly blinded Draco. "How do you feel about Mr. Malfoy's comments?"
Hermione smiled up at Draco before she looked towards the cameras. "While I love Harry dearly as a friend, this is something that I, too, am deeply concerned about. As everyone knows, I, myself, am a Muggleborn, so these things deeply, deeply worry me."
"Would you stand by Mr. Malfoy if he intends to make a bid?!" a wizard called out.
Hermione snuggled closer into Draco's chest. "While I believe Harry and Kingsley have done a good job in their positions, it maybe time for new candidates to take up the job. Fresh, strong nominees who aren't afraid to act."
Draco went in to kiss her on the head but, in the last moment, she tilted her head up and kissed him on the lips, the crowd around them awed in satisfaction while flashes blinded them. Draco looked up. "Now if you please excuse us, I have a lunch date with the most lovely of witches." And with that, he pushed his way through the crowd, the impostor in tow.
Draco stepped out of the floo at the manor and roared in anger. Anger at himself, anger at Alecto, anger at the situation, just anger. The whoosh of flames announced Alecto's arrival at the manor, and Draco spun around. "What in the bloody fuck was that?!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs.
Alecto smirked at him tauntingly. "I thought we did rather well, I mean, the press ate it up. Yaxley will be pleased."
Draco stormed over to her, his face inches from hers. "The fucking kissing me, you dumb twat! What did I fucking tell you?!" He threatened.
Alecto tilted her head, clearly toying with Draco at this point. "What, afraid your pathetic little mudblood will see a picture of us kissing and leave you? Honestly, Draco, you really are better off."
Draco wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around the woman's throat and watch the light leave her eyes, slowly, agonizingly. "I swear to Merlin, Alecto, I will murder you," his voice was low and threatening.
Alecto smiled. "As long as we have that fucking little mudblood, you won't do shit, Draco." She grabbed Draco's groin, squeezing him with enough force that he winced. "I've got you by the balls, so you're playing my game, not yours." She let go and walked off.
The mirror and windows in the room exploded as Draco's magical rage was released. As much as he hated to admit it, he was playing their fucking game until Potter could get his shit together and find the headquarters. Draco rolled his head back, the cold winter's breeze now filtering into the room made his frustrated tears cold on his cheek. Fuck.