"You know, I'm actually really quite disappointed about how easy it was to attack you."
"Ha! So you do admit it was an attack!"
"Semantics. If anything it was more of a surprise. But that's beside the point, for someone working on a high-profile murder case of one of the wealthiest families of the wizarding world," he puffed out his chest a little, "I thought you would have more body guards."
Hermione rolled her eyes. After "surprising" her in the forest, Malfoy had somehow convinced her to eat a light supper with him. While under normal circumstances she would have never accepted, the forest's darkness combined with a slight pity for Malfoy after seeing his mother's dead body proved a lethal combination. Which was how she ended up here, walking alongside an overly arrogant Malfoy. As he made a beeline for a high-class French restaurant at the end of the street, Hermione pulled him into the Three Broomsticks before he could protest.
Malfoy sniffed distastefully at the crowded pub.
"Really, Granger? I knew your tastes were plebeian, but this is a little much," he said, sneering at anyone who dared give him a passing glance.
Hermione wisely ignored him and headed up to the counter, ordering two Butterbeers, ignoring Malfoy's pleads for Firewhiskey. As they settled into a dim, less crowded corner of the pub, Malfoy began to speak.
"So, about my mother. Any real clues?" he asked. Although his face was schooled into the perfect expression of casual curiosity, Hermione could hear a certain edge to his tone, his gray eyes staring a little too intensely at her.
"Look Malfoy, what happened to your mother is absolutely wrong, and I want to solve this almost as much as you. But, I'm really not at liberty to speak here."
"Why can't you tell me? It's not like I killed her! Please, I have to know. Granger, please," his eyes gleamed with desperation. "I know I was nasty and awful to you, and you can hate me all you want. But please, I need to know. My mother— she's all I have. I guess had, now," his voice cracked a little.
Hermione wilted, "Malfoy, I forgave you and your mother when you helped fight against the Neo-Death Eaters. Your rulings in the Wizengamot are fair and without the bias of your father," Draco looked surprised. "However, I am not allowed to tell any of the victims' families affected by this disgusting murderer any information in order to protect the integrity of this case."
Draco straightened, his eyes narrowed, "You mean there's more victims besides my mother?"
Hermione hadn't realized her mistake and desperately tried to fix it, knowing it was futile.
"I just meant in general. Yes, yes, I am not allowed to tell any civilian family-member affected by a murder any information regarding the perpetrator."
Draco stared at her dead in the eyes. "Fine Granger, if that's how this is going to be," he sighed. "I won't waste your time, good day," he nodded toward her and stalked out of the Three Broomsticks.
The next day was another chaotic morning for Hermione. She had fallen out of bed seventeen minutes late, run out of conditioner, been unable to work a comb through her matted hair, Crookshanks had ripped her new office skirt, and, consequently, she was exactly twenty-seven minutes late for work. As she neared her office, she was startled by a strangely familiar drawl.
"I hope this sort of unprofessionalism isn't common here."
The nasally voice of Percy Weasley replied, "I have no idea what sort of behaviors are allowed under Harry Potter's loose system. You'll find that not everyone here takes their job seriously," he sniffed.
Hermione took a deep breath, choosing to believe the stress of this case was causing her to hear voices and headed toward her office. Outside the door an immaculately dressed Draco Malfoy stood. He wore a dark three piece suit with a black robe overtop. His hair was swept to the side, each hair combed perfectly into place. He loomed over her, looking down at her petite frame imperiously. Percy cleared his throat.
"Your tardiness was quite the impression for Mr. Malfoy's first day here," he pursed his lips together. "He has been hired by the ministry to help you on this case as all of the Aurors are unavailable to join you."
"What about Harry?" Hermione's voice rose.
"You'll find that as the next-in-line for the head of the Auror Office, Harry has other responsibilities. Additionally, he has requested time off in the upcoming year for his next child's birth," Percy sniffed. "Well, I'll leave you to brief Mr. Malfoy on his job here. Good day," and with that Percy turned on his heel and stalked off.
Draco smirked down at Hermione. Neither moved.
"Why?"
"If I said I said it was because I'm madly in love with you, would you believe me?" Malfoy smirked.
"No," Hermione said flatly.
"Aww, my heart is broken," Malfoy pouted. But his eyes turned dark, "I'm here because my mother was murdered in cold blood by a bloody serial killer, and no one will tell me shit. I intend to solve this case whether you want my help or not."
"But-but how were you able to get this position?" Hermione asked.
"I'm on the Wizengamot and have more money than Potter has sycophants. There's nothing I can't do," Malfoy drawled.
Without asking, Malfoy barged into Hermione's small office, and immediately sat in her large, comfortable, rolling chair, putting his expensive Italian leather shoes on her desk. Picking up a random file of the desk, he randomly began flipping through papers. Hermione reached across her desk and tried to grab the file from his hands. However, his quidditch reflexes were as sharp as ever— he moved the file just out of her reach before she could grab it.
Hermione growled, "You take my chair, my office, my files; have some respect Malfoy."
But he only smiled sweetly back at her and continued his reading.
Hearing the sound of flapping, Hermione pushed open the window seeing Harry's owl, a small, tawny bird named Signe. Grabbing the letter, Hermione apologized profusely to the bird.
"I'm so sorry; I have not owl treats on me. Maybe next time? You flew all the way here and I have nothing to give you." Signe glared at her and flapped away.
Hermione turned around to see Draco staring at her blankly.
"Did you just beg forgiveness from a bird?"
Ignoring him, Hermione broke open the letter.
Hermione,
I'm writing you from Hogwarts right now. There's been another murder.
Floo to McGonagall's office.
Harry
Malfoy, who must have been surreptitiously reading the note over shoulder, grabbed his cloak which he had strewn across her desk and ran to the door, heading towards the atrium.
Once arriving, he nodded at Hermione proclaiming, "Age before beauty."
Sighing, Hermione grabbed floo powder and shouted "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Headmistress' Office!"
Hermione had never been able to investigate Hogwarts previously. Unfortunately, in order to wrap up the previous murders quickly and keep the murders hidden from students, the Aurors had done a mere cursory inspection, snapped some crime scene photographs, and cleaned up the scene before any attention could be drawn to them.
The body of Augustus Rookwood age forty-six, had been uncovered in the Forbidden Forest by Hagrid. A member of the Neo-Death Eaters, Rookwood had helped to commit countless atrocities, acting as a spy in the Second Wizarding War and a strategist in the Neo-Death Eater Revival of 2000. He was a disgusting and depraved man, yet his high-class connections, enormous wealth, and numerous safe-houses kept him from the dark cell in Azkaban that he deserved. However, despite any fate Rookwood might deserve, this vigilante justice was cold-blooded murder. No single man should be able to hold the fate of another in his hands. While Rookwood might have deserved his fate, did the countless others deserve the fates the unsub had delivered them to?
Coughing, Hermione tripped out of the fireplace in the Headmistress' Office, stumbling across the red Oriental rug. An arm grabbed her waist, steadying her. She glanced up at Malfoy and he immediately dropped his hand and stepped to the side, clearing his throat uncomfortably.
Headmistress Minerva McGonagall sat primly in a giant bronze chair, her lips pursed together. Harry's back was turned to Hermione.
"— I know you take your duties as a Headmistress very seriously, but this is a murder investigation!"
"Mr. Potter, I cannot simply allow for you to barge into the protected halls of my school, and invade my student's privacy!"
"Your students may not have lives if the murderer is allowed to roam free!" Harry roared.
Placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, Hermione smiled politely at her favorite professor.
"Hello, Headmistress, it's nice to finally see you again. I regret that it must take place in these circumstances."
"Indeed," Headmistress McGonagall said, allowing a tiny smile to quirk her lips upward.
"We understand your apprehension, but perhaps we could propose a compromise? May the professors compile a list of students who have acted suspicious in the past year? We can already eliminate students younger than third year because they would not have the knowledge or strength to subdue and murder people much older with more battle experience—"
Draco interrupted, "In fact, we can eliminate minors altogether. Due to the decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, no student could have murdered Avery and MacNair this summer without the ministry knowing."
Hermione frowned. She hated being wrong. "Well a student could still be involved in the murder. Perhaps a professor could compile a list of anyone they deemed suspicious."
Draco cut her off again, "But what if the perpetrator is the professor?"
Hermione gasped, "A professor? No professor would do such a thing!"
Draco rolled his eyes, "Perhaps we could interview all of the professors here instead?"
McGonagall slowly nodded her head, "I suppose that could be put into order."
Harry who had been standing off to the side, was looking suspiciously at Draco.
"What's he doing here?" Harry asked.
"I was hired by Gawain Robards as a partner—"
"Bodyguard," Hermione corrected.
Draco rolled his eyes, "As a bodyguard to Granger."
Harry huffed, "I could take care of her!"
"Like you did when you left her yesterday—alone— at the murder site of my mother."
Harry grew redder.
"Look Potter, I'm on the Wizengamot. I'm aware of the movement to replace Robards with you when he retires. You can't be expected to complete all of your bureaucratic work and make time for this case."
Harry nodded, but his mouth was pursed in a harsh line.
"So I guess we should see the body."
Augustus Rookwood's body was splayed across the cool taller grass near the mouth of the Forbidden Forest. It seemed that the killer's placement of the body was getting more and more bold. While the original bodies were discovered deep in the forest, the recent bodies were dumped closer and closer towards the mouth of the forest.
Hermione stooped down by the lanky body of Rookwood. His body, consistent with the previous pattern of the killer, was extremely different from Narcissa Malfoy. While Narcissa was covered in outward signs of torture, Rookwood showed all the classic signs of the cruciatus curse. His fingernails had drawn blood from clenching his hands in fists. His hair was matted with sweat. There was bruising around his wrists as blood flow to the limbs had been impacted by the heavy stress of the cruciatus curse on his heart. Most disturbingly, when Hermione opened his mouth, his lips crusted over with blood, she discovered a slimy object buried in his throat. Drawing the object from the viscous, sticky blood, Hermione felt nauseous: it was a tongue. Under the extreme prolonged torture, Rookwood must have bitten off his own tongue. It looked like the ultimate cause of his death might have been from choking on his own blood.
"So can we still test for poison or a paralyzer, since his mouth has been," Draco paused, "compromised?"
Hermione nodded slowly, "We can take samples from his hair follicles; especially since he's dead the drugs given to him up to forty-eight hours ago wouldn't have been metabolized yet."
She plucked a few hairs from Rookwood's scalp and scraped some skin in a plastic bag. Hermione suspected that like Narcissa, Rookwood's body had been moved post-mortem. Yet other than that, their deaths had few other similarities.
Hermione nodded at Malfoy, "I think we're finished here. Let's begin our interviews with the professors."
The current staff list included Slughorn, Hagrid, Flitwick, Sinistra, Bathsheda Babbling, Binns, Trelawney, and Hooch. Although Neville taught Herbology in previous years, Headmistress McGonagall had informed Hermione he had taken the year off for personal research. In his place, Professor Sprout taught the current students.
"So who's the new Defense Against Dark Arts Professor this year?" Malfoy smirked.
Hermione frowned, "A woman named Blanche Millefeuille. She apparently graduated from Beauxbatons a few years before us. This is actually her second year here."
Malfoy raised his eyebrows, "The Millefeuille family is actually quite old," he made a face. "Actually, I'm pretty sure a member of her family, Luc Millefeuille, actually poisoned muggles that came to his bakery when I was a child. It was sort of a joke."
Hermione narrowed her eyes.
Although none of the professors seemed suspicious with the exception of Blanche, Hermione also found it difficult to separate herself from her personal connections. She was fighting every instinct she had to actually suspect a professor.
"Well, let's start with Blanche then," she sighed.
In a surprising show of camraderie, Malfoy patted her back.
