Disclaimer: Copyright J.K. Rowling
"No one's injured," Rose assured a rather disappointed Nearly Headless Nick wearily as she reached the Gryffindor table. "Or dead. It could have been a lot worse."
Thankfully, the mountains of food prepared by the house-elves for the Hallowe'en feast – pumpkin pasties, bacon and cabbage, spiced potatoes and fruit cakes among other Hallowe'en delicacies – had not gone to waste. All of the carriages having arrived safely in the grounds, the Aurors had divided themselves among the groups of students and escorted them into the Great Hall.
Far above, the ceiling was a clear, midnight blue, speckled with stars. The first and second years were already waiting at the tables, the candlelight from the suspended pumpkins reflecting off their pale faces and wide eyes, and their whispering heightened as the older students entered.
A sudden hush descended upon the hall as Rose took her seat. Looking up, she noticed that Professor Hobspawn was noticeably absent from the staff table, and frowned. The Transfiguration professor, Henry Broadmoor, a middle-aged wizard with reddish hair, had risen to address the students instead.
"Unfortunately, there will be no entertainment tonight after the feast. The search for the Snarling Sons is ongoing, as I'm sure you've guessed. I have been told to assure you, however, that all that the school and its grounds have been secured by the Aurors, and we are in no danger. " He paused in his speech, and the hall erupted into noise once more as everyone started to talk excitedly. With an exasperated glance at the other professors, Broadmoor gave up and took his seat again.
"Why doesn't he tell us the truth?" Rose heard a Hufflepuff say loudly at the next table. "Hogwarts isn't safe anymore!"
"Someone's been reading too much of the Prophet," she muttered, to no one in particular, but Albus, who was sitting beside her, made a noise of agreement.
"As long as we've got the Aurors and Hobspawn, we're fine," he said firmly. "None of us could have been in any real danger today, anyway."
"But where is Hobspawn?" Rose craned her neck around the hall, as though expecting to see the Headmaster burst through the doors at any moment. "If the Aurors have secured the grounds, shouldn't he be back here, reassuring us, instead of Broadmoor? It'd be a whole lot more convincing if he did it."
Someone stooped between them just as she finished her sentence. A flash of curly red hair told her that it was her cousin, Lucy. "There's an emergency prefect meeting tonight," she said to them in a low voice. "Come to the Head Offices after the feast, and don't be late. Spread the word."
Rose and Albus exchanged glances as the Head Girl moved away. "What do you think it's about?" the latter asked, seizing up a fork as food appeared on the gleaming plates before them.
"Even more rules and regulations, I'm guessing," Rose said curtly. "As though we didn't have enough to keep up with already." She stared at the food on her plate. Her stomach rumbled, but all she could think about was earlier, when their carriage had ground to a halt on the forest path, and howls had filled the air – how her and Albus's eyes had met in the darkness as the others started screaming, silent and fearful, as they both thought the same thing.
It had been like the wedding. Just like the wedding – that same feeling that everything was beyond her control, that the ground was falling away beneath her once more. She hadn't been afraid for her life, exactly… simply afraid that it was to do with her, somehow. And afraid for Hugo, too, though she knew he had probably gone back to Diagon Alley. Afraid about what he had told her, and the way they had parted.
"I still don't see any way they could possibly have transformed," she heard Albus say to James beside her. "It all seems... well, a bit convenient, doesn't it? Hobspawn hires a band of werewolves to perform after the Hallowe'en feast, they turn and attempt to maul the students – it's just the kind of thing the Prophet's going to seize upon."
"They already have," his brother replied quietly, his voice dipping. "Look to your left, Al."
Albus looked, as did Rose; at the entrance to the Great Hall, a wizard in periwinkle-blue robes stood in deep discussion with one of the Aurors, clipboard in hand.
"Well, that didn't take long," Albus said with a sigh, turning back towards his brother.
"Exactly," James said. By the tone of his voice, Rose could almost believe he was enjoying this. "And here's something to chew on: did anyone actually see those werewolves? We heard them, sure, but - "
"The Aurors did," Albus said staunchly. "Are you doubting them?"
"Don't be daft," his brother said sharply. "I'm just saying they mightn't have told us everything they know. A lot of strange stuff has been happening today, after all."
"Like what?" Rose rounded on them, and both of her cousins looked at her, surprised that she had been listening to the conversation.
"Nothing you need to worry about, coz," he said with an easy grin, but she had seen the brief flicker of doubt in his face. Narrowing her eyes at him, she leaned closer.
"Tell me."
James glanced around to make sure none of the ghosts were drifting by, then spoke more quietly, so that only she could hear him over the clatter of plates and rumble of voices all around. "I saw Nott in Hogsmeade today, going to one of those cottages at the edge of town. Looked like he didn't want to be spotted."
"Some of those cottages are old apothecaries," Albus said. "He was probably ingredients for class."
"Then why didn't he go to one of the main businesses?" James pointed out. "Dogweed and Deathcap? Or Pippin's Potions?"
"Because he needed something rare? Or…" Albus trailed off. At his brother's sceptical expression, he shrugged and turned away, to strike up a conversation with Rory, who sat to his left.
Rose was silent. Something was tugging at her memory; she was not sure what, but it was giving her a headache. Her own words, spoken to Hugo earlier, resounded in her mind. Animagi are rare these days. If he's living in Knockturn Alley, chances are he's unregistered, and that means he's not on any list…
"Animagi," she said quietly, more to herself than to anyone else, but James heard her.
"What?"
She shook her head as though to clear the frenzy of suspicions whirling inside it, vying with each other for dominance. "Animagi. What if those weren't werewolves that attacked our carriages earlier? What if they were Animagi?"
"Couldn't be," James said at once. "They'd have to be unregistered. Besides, we heard the howls…"
"But no one saw them properly," she pointed out. "You said so yourself."
"What are you two muttering about?" Albus said, turning back to look at them curiously. "Are you all right, Rose? You've gone pale."
"Maybe you should go to the hospital wing," Penny supplied helpfully from across the table. Rose gave a little jump; she had almost forgotten where they were. "My brother said a lot of students need to be treated for shock after what happened - "
"No, I'm fine, I… I need to go to the library." Rose pushed her plate away from her and stood abruptly from the table.
"In the middle of the feast?" The others were looking at her as though she were mad.
"I've an – an overdue book…"
"Which can wait, I'm sure," Albus said, looking more than little incredulous. "It probably won't even be open. And what about the prefect meeting?"
"I'll be there," she assured him. "Look, I just have to check something, OK?" Her eye met James's, briefly; he raised his eyebrows at her, then nodded, returning hastily to his food before anyone else saw.
Characteristically, Madam Pince had locked the double doors leading into the library fast when she left for the feast, and it took more than a simple Alohomora incantation to break through. Rose stood for some minutes outside the darkened windows above the door, brow creased deeply as she waved her wand repeatedly. Eventually, she had to resort to a blasting charm, muffling the sound with her sleeve as the lock snapped and casting a glance up the deserted corridor. No one had heard. Good.
As she pushed hastily into the chilled darkness of the library, the familiar smell of musty pages filling her nostrils, a part of her was shocked at what she had just done. What kind of madness had seized her downstairs, as she listened to James and Albus speculate? Why did it feel so urgent that she should know the truth now… now, and not later? She had broken that lock without a second's hesitation, even though she could be suspended if she were found out, stripped of her prefect's title…
And yet, as she came to a halt before the Legal Section, casting her wandlight over the rows of old books, her hands trembling – none of that seemed to matter. If what had happened tonight had some connection to the wedding, the way she felt it did... then the consequences were irrelevant. At least for the moment.
Uncomfortably, it struck her that this was the way Hugo might have felt before he attacked Malfoy. Forcing the thought away before it could do any real damage, Rose bent among the shelves, straining her eyes, searching, searching… And there it was, tucked away in its corner. Ministerial Register of Animagi. She hauled it out, glancing once at the doorway, which still stood ajar. It was only a matter of time before one of the Aurors on patrol passed the entrance to the library. She had to do this quickly.
Seating herself at the nearest desk, Rose sifted through the pages with less care than usual, breathing fast, her finger tracing the faded dates at the top. Her head snapped up as she heard a faint creak in the corridor outside that might have been a footstep. Frantically, she turned over a huge portion of pages, suppressing a sneeze, and landed on the final page: Registered Animagi of the 21st century.
Her eyes scanned the brief list of names, animals and markings. There were only two wizards as opposed to the four witches registered, and they transformed into a sheep and a pigeon, respectively. The only cat Animagus listed was Minerva McGonagall. Rose flipped back to the twentieth century list, and frowned. No wizards with cat Animagi there either. What did it mean?
It meant, quite simply, that Draco Malfoy was associating with unregistered Animagi, who might have had something to do with the attack on the carriages tonight.
"Rose?"
She almost leapt out of her skin as someone in the doorway of the library cleared their throat. As a lamp ignited above Madam Pince's desk, she saw with relief that it was James. He stood surveying the broken lock.
"You must have been really desperate to get in here," he remarked. "A prefect, to go so far as to break and enter? I'm surprised at you, coz. You might very well have forfeited your chances at Head Girl next year."
"We should get out of here," Rose said quickly, replacing the registeron the shelf. "If the Aurors…"
"Relax. The nearest one's two corridors away." James moved towards her, then stopped, crossing his arms in an attempt to seem nonchalant. "So what's going on? What's this about Animagi?"
"I…" Biting her lip, she paused. She couldn't tell him. He had gone to the Aurors with her suspicions before, who was to say he might not do it again? "You were right, it was a mad theory. The Snarling Sons are werewolves; everyone knows that. They were the ones who attacked us."
"You're a bad liar, Rosie." He was looking at her, the spark of curiosity alive in his eyes. "What's up?"
"I told you, it's nothing." She moved past him, out of the library. Her cousin watched her go without moving, arms still folded.
Though they had long since recovered from the shock, the six Slytherins still sat around two beds in the hospital wing, facing each other. A few beds in the wing were occupied by students, some of whom were whispering anxiously to each other, others dozing or sitting quietly. Madam Pomfrey bustled to and fro, administering slabs of Honeydukes' chocolate and nerve tonics.
"It's all a bit extreme, isn't it?" Santini said robustly, glancing around at the witch as she passed their beds. "I mean, none of us could've have been in any real danger, with the Aurors there. It was all dealt with very quickly."
"Felt pretty real to me," Jem said darkly, and the others nodded their agreement.. "That Auror said we were the worst at risk, too, remember? Our carriage was the closest in proximity to the werewolves."
"Which is probably why she won't let us out of here," Nina added, with a mutinous look at Madam Pomfrey. "Scorpius and I have a prefect meeting to get to."
"I'm sure you won't miss it," Torrance said wearily, stretching so that his arm settled around Orchid's shoulders. "Merlin, it's been a long day."
"And it's not over yet," Scorpius said in an undertone, as the doors to the hospital wing pushed open and a wizard in periwinkle-blue robes clutching a clipboard entered, followed closely by an irate Professor Stebbins.
"This really isn't appropriate," the Muggle Studies teacher was protesting. "Some of these students are still in severe shock – "
"Raymond Bletchley, Daily Prophet," the wizard said smoothly, ignoring her and stretching out his free hand for Madam Pomfrey to take. "I've come to ask a few questions of the recovering students, if you don't mind. Which should I – ah." He caught sight of the six Slytherins, eyes lighting up with interest, and proceeded to stride to the two beds on which they were sitting, holding out his hand once more as Professor Stebbins hung back, glowering.
"Now, I understand you may not all be feeling your best," Bletchley said kindly as he shook each of their hands heartily in turn, before summoning a chair out of nowhere and taking a seat. He was a small man, with grey-brown hair and wide, watery blue eyes.. "So I'll keep this very brief." A yellow-feathered quill appeared on his lap, and promptly began writing upon the clipboard.
"Is that a Quick-Quotes quill?" Nina said warily. "I thought those were forbidden."
"Oh, no, it's nothing more than a self-writing quill, I assure you," the reporter said with an easy smile. "Now, I think I'll ask – you first." His eyes landed on Santini, who looked startled. "What is your opinion of Professor Hobspawn?"
For once, the Quidditch captain seemed lost for words. Glancing towards Professor Stebbins, he said uncomfortably, "Well – do you mean in general, or - "
"Oh, whichever," Bletchley said, waving his hand. The quill was scrawling enthusiastically, and Scorpius frowned at it, trying to make out the writing.
"Well… he's very thorough." Santini paused, glancing around at the others as if for aid. "I suppose you could say that… he doesn't suffer fools gladly."
"Meaning he is quite impatient with his students?" The reporter eyed him, watery eyes suddenly shrewd. "It's all right, you know. You can be honest. There is nothing wrong with some healthy criticism of professors; in fact, the board of governors in Hogwarts recommends it."
"He's not… the most patient man, no," Santini continued. He seemed to be coming into his stride more now, and Scorpius could detect the hint of a smirk as the Quidditch captain glanced towards the rapidly-writing quill. Probably pretending he's in a press interview. "In fact, he can be a bit… well, angry, at times."
"Has he lost his temper with you before?" Bletchley asked seriously.
"Once or twice," Santini replied innocently, nodding. "But that's just the way Professor Hobspawn is. We're all used to it."
"Thank you. Could I have your name, please? Ah, Carlos Santini." He nodded towards the quill, then looked back at the interviewee, his interest piqued. "Any relation to the famous Spanish player, Vasco Santini, by any chance?"
"His nephew," Santini said casually, positively preening as the reporter gasped. The smirk became fully-formed, and Scorpius wanted to throttle him.
"Well, I would never have expected it." Smiling, Bletchley switched his gaze to Nina next. "And you? Miss…"
"Meyer."
"Miss… Meyer. I must say, I don't recognise your name - "
"I'm a Muggleborn," she said sullenly.
"A Muggleborn Slytherin. How unusual." The quill scribbled furiously. "Tell me, how do you feel after today's events? Threatened?"
"Not really," she replied in a bored voice, and the reporter opened his mouth, then closed it again. The self-writing quill scratched something out on the clipboard, and he cleared his throat, while the others suppressed grins.
"Well – er – how interesting. And what about you?" His gaze alighted on Scorpius, who cursed inwardly. "Tell me, do you feel safe in this school?"
An eternity seemed to pass before Scorpius could find it within himself to answer. He saw his father's head in the fireplace on that first night. Someone is working against us, Scorpius. He saw Hugo Weasley, his face contorted with hate as he brandished his wand at him. He saw the flash of grey outside their carriage window that evening.
Do you feel safe in this school?
Scorpius could have laughed.
"Yes," he said at last, because it was what his father would have told him to say. He felt the heat of the others' gazes on him, including Professor Stebbins in the background, and it was all he could do not to stand and leave the hospital wing, then and there.
After a moment, when he did not say anything more, Bletchley nodded, looking slightly disappointed. "Very good. And your name?"
A beat of silence. Then, calmly, "Malfoy. Scorpius Malfoy."
"Ah." The reporter's face changed, suddenly tense and uncomfortable, his watery eyes averted. Scorpius knew the look well – he had been seeing it all his life – and it made him feel strangely at home, all of a sudden. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, the self-writing quill crossing his name out on the clipboard, and almost smiled. Raymond Bletchley certainly would not want to be caught quoting a Death Eater's son in his report.
"That certainly got rid of him," Torrance remarked five minutes later, as they sat, alone again, in the hospital wing. He unwrapped a slab of Honeydukes' chocolate that Madam Pomfrey had left them and tossed him a square. "We owe you, Scorpius."
"Any time." Scorpius caught it, grinning. Then, leaning back against the bedstead, he could not resist adding: "Names are powerful. Aren't they, Santini?"
The Quidditch captain looked vaguely disgruntled, but did not reply.
(***)
Scorpius knelt before the fireplace in the common room, glad that most of the Slytherins were still at dinner, and, setting his wand down, scattered some Floo Powder on the crackling flames.
"Number 8, Charing Cross Road," he enunciated as the flames turned green. He wondered what his father would think of the day's events. Whether he would give him the same, tired advice about 'keeping his head down', speak in vague generalisations and riddles…
But even if he did, Scorpius did not care. After everything that had happened today, he needed to hear his father's voice.
Leaning forward, he immersed his head in the green flames. The world was suddenly spinning around his head while his body remained stationary, faster and faster, making his stomach lurch – then, at last, he came to a halt, and blinked.
Expecting to see the polished wooden floors and immaculate furniture of their dining room, he was greeted instead with the view of a room that had been ransacked from top to bottom. The vase that had always stood on the mantelpiece, a Greengrass heirloom, lay in shattered pieces across the hearth, and the marble tiles of the fireplace before him were cracked. The green curtains were torn in several places over the window, and the door to the pantry hung off its hinges.
Rage, fear and shock reared up all at once in Scorpius. Had the Ministry raided their house again? What had they been looking for this time?
"Dad?" he called, his voice echoing around the room in a way it never had before. "Dad, are you there?"
Silence. Scorpius swallowed, craning his neck to see to the far corners of the room. At the sound of footsteps in the hall outside, he jumped – but his relief quickly faded into something else. They were heavier, more trudging than his father's steps.
Suddenly he felt very vulnerable, a disembodied head bobbing in a fireplace. As the door-handle began to turn, Scorpius jerked backwards, yanking his head back out of the flames and tumbling back on the hearth in the Slytherin common room.
He was blinded for a moment, his head spinning frantically, and lay there, panting, not sure what he had just seen. The knowledge that at that moment, a stranger stood in his dining room, staring at the hearth from which his head had just disappeared, frightened him more than it should have. Where was his father?
The Head Students were already inside when Rose and Albus entered the offices, and, bit by bit, the other prefects arrived in pairs, seating themselves in the plush armchairs and settees, on the hard desk chairs or on the rug to form a rough circle. A merry fire blazed in the grate, comforting against the sound of the rain battering the dark windows from outside.
Jonah Robbins took the roll of prefects once the room was filled, calling out their names one by one. When he reached the list of Gryffindor sixth-years, he paused, looking up at Nina Meyer, who sat alone on a low stool beside Ed Abercrombie and Summer Birchgrove. "Scorpius Malfoy? Where is he?"
"I think he's on his way," Meyer replied with a shrug.
"Well, as everyone else is here, we'd better get going," Robbins said briskly. "Do you want to begin, Lucy?"
Rose watched Meyer curiously as the Head Girl began to speak. She had heard that she and some of the other Slytherins had been treated for shock in the hospital wing. Was Malfoy recovering from that now? Or was he absent for another reason? Her mind jumped, unbidden, back to what Hugo had seen: Draco Malfoy, disappearing into one of the buildings on Knockturn Alley. Did his son know about that? Had he something to do with the attack on the carriages today? But why would he have endangered himself? Why -
At Albus's nudge, she jumped, eyes flicking back to her cousin, who was midway through a lengthy speech.
"… all Hogsmeade trips are to be cancelled for the foreseeable future. No student is to leave the grounds at any point without his permission. You may impart this news to your fellow students when you return." There was a collective groan at this, but she continued, oblivious, "More Aurors have been drafted by the Department of Magical Law Enforcment to protect the school as a result of this attack. They will begin to arrive as early as tomorrow. Students attending any classes or performing extracurricular activities in the grounds will have to be accompanied by them."
"However," Robbins broke in, "Some of you might be relieved to hear that, because of these extra Aurors, the number of prefect patrols has been reduced to its normal figure: once a week for everyone."
A gratified murmur rippled around the room as prefects absorbed this news. Then, as the Head Boy was preparing to speak again, the door opened and Scorpius Malfoy entered. His blond hair was slightly dishevelled and he was breathing hard, as though he had been running. Rose frowned.
"We've just started, Malfoy," Robbins said, motioning for him to sit down, while the Head Girl's expression grew more disgruntled. "Nina can fill you in on what you've missed. As I was saying…"
Rose's eyes narrowed as she watched Malfoy take a place on the rug beside Meyer's stool, and the Head Boy's words grew vague in her mind for a moment. She glanced to her right, then to her left, but the attentive faces of the other prefects told her that no one else had noticed anything amiss with Malfoy's entrance. He, for his part, did not seem bothered in the least that he had interrupted the meeting; on the contrary, his expression was strangely absent as he gazed around the room. His eyes met hers momentarily, then flicked away.
The prefect's meeting came to a close a few minutes later, the final piece of news being that students found in the corridors after curfew would be subject to a more severe punishment than before, including possible suspension. Rose watched closely as Malfoy and Meyer rose to their feet, following the other prefects as they filed out of the room in groups, the buzz of conversation loud in their ears.
"What did you think of that?" Albus said conversationally, but she sent him an apologetic glance as she pushed past Kloves, attempting to keep the Slytherins in her line of vision.
"Sorry Al – I just have to – do something…"
"The library again?" he said confusedly, but she did not have time to reply, weaving around a few seventh-year prefects and craning her neck until, reaching the corridor, she caught sight of Malfoy and Meyer again. They were moving in the opposite direction from the crowd, towards the east wing of the castle.
Rose paused for a moment, then, stepping as lightly as she could, began to follow them. She moved between the shadows cast by the torches, strains of the Slytherins' conversation floating back to her.
"I still owe you a Galleon, don't I?" That was Meyer, her voice tinged with playful annoyance. "It surprises me that you're not still harping on about that bet, actually."
"I hate to remind you, Meyer, but we were attacked by werewolves tonight." Malfoy's voice was strangely flat in comparison. "I've got other things on my mind."
"I'll say. How come you were late?"
A silence followed her words, then suddenly, the sound of footsteps ceased. Malfoy had stopped walking at the top of a staircase, and so had Meyer. Rose moved back hastily, making herself as small as she could against the wall. Had they somehow heard her?
After a moment, however, Malfoy's voice sounded again from around the corner, this time more quietly. "I tried to Floo my dad. But he wasn't at home."
"Maybe he was working late."
"I thought that too." Malfoy's voice was more urgent now. "But when I tried to send him a letter, my owl came back. He couldn't find him."
The throbbing of Rose's heart was suddenly very loud in her ears. Had Draco Malfoy not returned from his trip to Knockturn Alley? More importantly, was he somewhere that his own son's owl could not reach? How was that possible?
"Something's happened to him." Malfoy sounded almost - panicked? "Our house was a wreck. I think someone from the Ministry came and took him away."
Meyer was silent for a long time. "The Obliviator who was arrested," she said at last, her voice barely louder than a whisper, so that Rose had to strain to hear. "Derek Podmore. Maybe – it's connected? It would make sense if the Ministry…"
Rose did not catch the rest of her words, but Malfoy interrupted before long. "I don't know," he said shortly. "I don't know about any of that. All I know is that I need to find out where they've taken him, so I can go and help."
"You heard Weasley and Robbins," Meyer said pragmatically. "Security around Hogwarts has been increased – you won't get a step further than the castle. Besides, if he's been taken somewhere, how can you expect to find out where?"
There was a long silence. In it, Rose, pressed against the stone wall a few feet away from the Slytherins, realised something.
Malfoy knew as little as she did.
Whatever had been going on for the past few months, he wasn't clued in on it. He wasn't part of some elaborate scheme to bring down her family like she had thought. His own father had just gone missing, and he had no idea why, or how, or where to find him. He had been powerless to prevent what had happened… just as she had been powerless to protect her mother at the wedding.
The realisation came to her with the same peculiar surprise that she might have felt after discovering that a complete stranger shared her name. It made her brow crease in a frown, her blue eyes widen in confusion as she thought it through.
Malfoy didn't know where his father had gone. But she did.
Gathering her courage, Rose took a deep breath, then stepped around the corner. "From me. You can find out from me."
Malfoy and Meyer twisted from where they had been standing at the bend of the corridor, whipping out their wands to point them at her. Rose raised her hands as if in surrender, while a voice inside her mind demanded what she was doing, why she had blown her cover when she could have heard more of their conversation, learned more about what was going on.
Meyer spoke first. "What the hell are you doing, Weasley?"
"I'm helping you," Rose said, struggling to keep her expression neutral. "Hard as that may be for you to believe, Meyer."
"She's lying, like she always is," Malfoy said, shaking his head. The colour had drained from his face, but he did not even look at Rose. "Go on, run along, Weasley. Tell the Aurors everything you heard. I don't care."
"I have no intention of doing that," she said sharply. "Just listen to me for a minute, will you, Malfoy?"
After a moment's consideration, Malfoy turned to his fellow prefect. "You should go, Nina. This is between me and Weasley."
"Gladly," she said, casting a dubious glance at Rose before departing.
Her footsteps echoed into nothingness, and Malfoy turned back, looking Rose in the eye for the first time. His grey eyes were furious. "What do you want, Weasley?"
"I – I want you to listen to me," Rose said, more hesitantly than before. "And believe that I'm actually trying to help you."
"Ah, I see. That was why you spied on me and my friend." Malfoy tightened his grip on his wand, his jaw clenching slightly in anger. "Eavesdropping seems to be your particular habit, Weasley."
"I had to follow you - I thought…" Rose bit her lip, then shook her head in frustration. "Well, never mind what I thought. Malfoy, I think I might know where your father is. My brother saw him yesterday morning, going into a shop in Knockturn Alley. He says he didn't come out again, but there was an – an Animagus there too, an unregistered one."
"And you wouldn't know anything about who has him, would you, Weasley?" Malfoy's voice was nonchalant, but she sensed the danger behind his words, and slipped her fingers around her own wand. "Or perhaps your brother does?"
"No, Malfoy," she snapped. "I didn't even realise he was missing. Believe me, we had nothing to do with it."
Bizarrely, he laughed, a cold, mirthless laugh. "Believe you? Why in Merlin's name should I believe you?"
"Because why else would I be helping you now?" she exclaimed.
"To set a trap for me, perhaps? But if you think I'm fool enough to fall for it, you're sorely mistaken. Get away from me, Weasley." Without warning, he jerked his wand, and a jet of purple light whizzed past her. It had not been intended to hit her, Rose observed as she ducked, drawing her own wand. But the next one was.
"Protego!" She deflected the jet, sending it into the wall, where it vanished amid the stone. "Don't be an idiot, Malfoy!"
He fired, and she ducked again, sending her own blast of magic towards him. Malfoy deflected just as easily. Rose cursed out loud.
"Merlin's sake, Malfoy, I feel guilty, all right? That's why I'm telling you."
She ducked in anticipation of his next blast, but there was none. Instead, Malfoy stood still, regarding her, his wand still poised in the air. Rose heard herself continue, though her voice sounded strange to her own ears.
"I've been wrong about a few things over the past month or two. I was wrong about who stole the Polyjuice Potion in our first week back. I thought it was you and your friends, but it was my own brother. And I was wrong -" She swallowed, " – I was wrong to blame you for what happened at the wedding. Whatever your mother might have done, it's not your fault. When Hugo told me today about seeing your dad in Knockturn Alley, I thought you must have something to do with it, know something about it. But… it looks like I was wrong about that, too."
"A convincing performance," Malfoy said dryly after a moment's silence, lowering his wand. "Heartfelt, really. But I have better things to be doing with my time than listening to your play-acting, Weasley. If you expect me to trust your brother's word after he attacked me…"
"You can't deny that there's something deeper going on here, Malfoy," Rose said quickly as he turned away. "If your father's in danger, that means it's beyond his control. Beyond your mother's control. Someone must have ordered her to poison my mother at the wedding. I know you're wondering who that someone is, same as I am. Well, we can find out, if we work together."
"United by a common enemy." Malfoy smirked. "How diplomatic of you to recognise that, Weasley. But you're wrong about something else, too. My mother poisoned no one."
Rose swallowed, attempting to remain calm. "The evidence -" she began, through gritted teeth.
"The evidence means nothing," he said coldly. "It was false."
With an effort, Rose bit back a furious response, saying instead, in a voice of forced calm, "Listen, Malfoy. There's no point in arguing about that now. You said you needed to find your father. Well, now you know where he is, thanks to me. I can get you out of the castle, too, past the Aurors."
"How?" he said sceptically.
"There are ways," she said vaguely, thinking of James and his map. "Secret passages. It's Hogwarts, after all. I can get us out one of them -"
"Us?" Malfoy interrupted.
"Yes, us." Rose folded her arms. "If you're going to Knockturn Alley, so am I."
He stared at her, face impassive. "Why?"
"Because I want to find out the truth too. About who really poisoned my mother." And find out what's going on before Hugo does anything stupid.
"And why do you assume my father's disappearance has anything to do with that?" Malfoy questioned coolly. "Not everything involves you, Weasley."
"I know that," she snapped. "But…"
"But?"
Rose did not reply. She remembered Hugo's sombre face as he sat across from her in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes – already it seemed like a lifetime ago.
All I see is that Draco Malfoy might be in the habit of making shady dealings.
But the Malfoys haven't visibly involved themselves in something like that, not since the war...
Hugo had been right. He had been right, and she had not listened to him.
With an effort, Rose raised her eyes to Malfoy's once more. "After everything that's happened since we got back to school," she said slowly, "With Goyle, and that Obliviator being arrested, and your mother before that, I can't believe that this business with your father is just coincidence. I feel like – the answer to what happened at the wedding is right there in front of me, and I just need to… grab it."
"It sounds to me like you're clutching at straws, Weasley," Malfoy said quietly. His tone was not hostile, simply matter-of-fact, but his eyes were hard. "Whoever poisoned your mother, they've gone to a great deal of effort to make sure that no one ever finds out, while my mother sits in a cell in Azkaban for a crime she didn't commit. Thanks to you."
Rose tensed. She felt that familiar, sickening guilt rising like bile in her throat.
"Blame me all you want, Malfoy," she said at last, through gritted teeth. "But they would have released your mother, no harm done, if there hadn't been strong evidence against her. I'm not the Wizengamot; I didn't convict her or send her to Azkaban."
Something changed in Malfoy's face at her words. He lowered his grey eyes, and his face lost whatever remaining colour it had. Something about him seemed defeated, all of a sudden. When he spoke again, his tone was resigned.
"Let me make one thing very clear, Weasley. I don't trust you. But I need to find my father, and the sooner I can get to him, the better. I want to leave tonight."
Rose considered for a moment, then nodded to herself. "OK. I'll let you know when everything's ready, in half an hour or so. And we work together on this, Malfoy. Let's shake on it."
But Scorpius Malfoy had already turned away, pocketing his wand.
"Learn to take yes for an answer, Weasley."
A.N: Reviews! Also, thanks a million to everyone who's reviewed the story already, your feedback is much appreciated. I'm busy with exams at the moment, but the next chapter should be out in the next month or so.