Disclaimer: I would be thrilled to have my dear Draco in my possession. But unfortunately, JK Rowling owns everything.
A billion thanks to my lovely beta Blissfulnightmare , the piece wouldn't be done without you!
Chapter 4 Bad News
Draco's jaw almost dropped, not believing his own eyes. How could Harry have disappeared? It was a dead end for God's sake! Calming himself, he began to rationalize.
'Is there a secret passage?' Draco mused. He quickly scanned the alley and the buildings nearby, but found nothing out of place, nor anything seemingly suspicious. There wasn't even a surveillance camera around. Draco found it hard to believe a place like this would harbor such a thing.
However, Draco, being Draco, was well known for being cautious during the war. He stepped into the alley carefully, always keeping an eye out in case something happened, and meticulously searched the walls inch by inch. He was a bit lost at first, not sure what to do, but soon picked up what he had learned on the TV. However, the walls were dead solid. No matter how hard Draco knocked, or how many times he pressed the suspicious button-like brick, no entranceway revealed itself to him. After nearly an hour, it started to rain. It began as a light sprinkle at first, until the sky seemed to have grown a twisted sense of humor and poured bucketfuls of its torrential water on the vicinity, leaving Draco no other choice but to give up."I will find out what you're up to, Harry." Draco whispered determinedly to himself, turning off the water and stepping out of the shower. He looked at the reflection in the mirror and smiled. The trip was not in vain. Though he didn't know where Harry had gone, one thing was clear- he was definitely not going to work.
"What?" Harry was dumbfounded by the turn of the story. "You don't think Draco is trying to be immortal, do you?"
Hermione shot him a stern look. "Of course not! What normal person would want immortality?"
"Voldemort did." Harry pointed out.
"Yeah, like he had ever been normal." Hermione waved her hand in dismissal. "The point is, he might intend to use it for a similar function, of which I have yet to find out. But I will."
Harry was reassured. If Hermione said she would, she certainly would.
They chatted about some other things after that for a short while, but since Hermione was too eager to get to work to focus on the conversation, Harry decided to send her away to her studies.
"Are you sure you will be fine alone?" Hermione asked, unsure, if not apologetically, "I don't want you to think I'm neglecting you."
Harry smiled, suddenly feeling warm inside. He was not seventeen anymore. He was an Auror - a very good one in fact, to put it modestly. He had, after all, killed the most powerful wizard in Britain. Yet Hermione still acted like he was a lonely child. It had been annoying at first, but Harry knew now how few people really cared for him, and of how priceless they truly were.
"Did I just know you yesterday?" He asked fondly, "Of course not! Now go, I can do with some rest myself. It had been a long day –if not several- with Draco."
Hermione hesitated, but the undying desire for knowledge finally won out. "All right," she said, "I'll just go check some books. Call me if you need me, okay?"
Harry nodded, closing his eyes. He didn't lie to Hermione. The days with Draco were indeed exhausting. He wouldn't admit it if someone asked him, but Harry was nervous around Draco. He was so afraid he might do something wrong and Draco would just crack, even though he knew better than anyone that the blond was nowhere near fragile.
He sighed and relaxed on the sofa, planning to take a nap. He was incredibly tired. He would just...
The nap turned into several hours. When Harry awoke, it was six o'clock in the afternoon.
"Oh my God!" Harry leapt off of the couch, desperately looking for his coat. "Where's my coat? Where is it? Oh, there, got you. Good! I've got to go!" He rushed to the fireplace - almost tripping over a stupid coffee table in the process - and threw a handful of Floo Powder into the flames. "See you later Hermione!" Harry shouted behind him, stepping inside. He vaguely heard Hermione "Hum?", but the green flames soon swallowed him away.
'I can't believe I left Draco alone for an entire bloody day!' Harry screamed at himself within his mind. What if he goes missing again? It would be all my fault - again!
Lucky for him, when he came back to his apartment, Draco was sleeping on the couch in the living room, safe and sound.
Harry nearly choked with relief, then suddenly remembered that he had actually put an alarming spell on the blond, which would inform him immediately if Draco was in any kind of danger.
"I was such an idiot!" Harry sighed heavily, still panting. He stared at Draco's face - serene and relaxed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Harry hadn't seen him look so peaceful in years, or ever had, for what mattered. He had been so eager to bring back Draco's memory, but now, Harry was not so sure.
"I really need to ease my nerves." Harry rubbed his eyes. He lingered there for a while longer, then quietly headed towards his room. He would take a nice, long shower, and tomorrow, tomorrow he would be fine.
He didn't see that, behind him, Draco had opened his eyes.
The next day turned out to be not as pleasant as Harry had hoped, because the Daily Prophet arrived with double pages, which, from Harry's personal experiences, was never a good sign.
"Dark Times Return!" said the newspaper in bold letters, "Revenge from the dark force, or just a normal case? Vincent Crabbe, former spy of the war, son of Crabbe Sr., was found murdered in his own house last night. Reliable sources state that he was killed by Avada Kedavra..."
The article was tremendously long, so Harry didn't bother finishing it - he was also too shocked and furious to continue. Within the next minute, he was in the minister's office, storming his way to the Minister of Magic.
"Why in God's name was I not informed of this?" Harry threw the newspaper on the minister's desk. "I am the head Auror for Merlin's sake!"
Kingsley, who had been selected as the new Minister of Magic after the war, didn't even look up. "Calm down, Harry. This is my office, not a market."
"Calm down?" Harry cried, hands in the air. "I have to read the bloody newspaper to know what should be taken care of by my own bloody department? I'm not calming down!"
Kingsley sighed, finally raising his head from the reams of paper. "Fine, I guess I have nowhere to run then. Sit down, Harry, please."
"Why had no one called me?" returned Harry defensively, not sitting down at all.
"I told them not to," answered the minister calmly.
"And why is that?"
"Because I need you to focus on Draco's case." said Kingsley, "I don't want you to get distracted."
This, thought Harry, was absolutely ridiculous. In fact, he could barely believe his own ears. If not for the minister's office being protected by numerous wards, some of which were placed by Harry himself, Harry would have thought someone had polyjuiced the man.
"But Crabbe was Draco's friend! There is certainly a link between the two cases," he said, rather convinced.
"You don't know that yet," said Kingsley in a stern voice as his face hardened. "Merlin bless us all that the two events are not related."
There was silence for a moment, and Harry frowned. "Okay," he crossed his arms, "now you're losing me."
Kingsley sighed again, looking suddenly older than usual. Harry noticed he was organizing the papers he was working on - like he always did when he was uncomfortable.
"It is a bit complicated. Sit down Harry, you will need it."
Harry hesitated, but did as the minister bid at last. He had a very bad feeling about this.
"Now, I guess you're wondering why I'm so concerned about Draco's case," began the minister, "He had almost disappeared from society since the war. So why the kidnap, and why now?"
Harry nodded.
Kingsley stood up, as if he couldn't bear looking into Harry's eyes. He stared out of the window and continued, "The fact is, Draco Malfoy is not as many suppose he is. He was not isolating himself from the community because he was depressed, but simply to keep his profile low, so as not to draw unwanted attention to what he was doing."
"And what exactly he was doing?" asked Harry.
"He was working on a project for the ministry," replied Kinsley matter-of-factly, "a spell, to be precise, to convert the Avada Kedavra."
To say that Pansy Parkinson was not happy would be a major understatement. Her friends were in danger, including herself. She had been worried sick about Draco, who had gone missing for more than a month. Those incompetent Aurors didn't offer any information about their investigation. If she didn't know better, she would think they weren't even searching for Draco at all!
She suspected though, that there might be a conspiracy within the ministry, because of Draco's strange withdrawal since the war ended, and Harry Potter's abnormal concern about him. Draco was, or at least Pansy thought he was, her best friend, and she understood him more than anyone else. He had never been the kind of person who cut himself off from others. Keeping to himself, most definitely, but never isolating.
The whole thing was very bizarre to her. When Draco nearly stopped talking to any of his former friends, which he hadn't even done during the war, she tried to confront him about it. She tried again and again and again, but Draco was extremely tight-lipped: he refused to let anything slip.
Being a Slytherin head to toes, Pansy decided to leave Draco alone for the moment. Conservation, after all, was the most important thing to them. And Pansy sensed danger. Whatever Draco was doing, it was dangerous, and it was affecting them all now. The death of Crabbe couldn't just be coincidence, not after Draco's disappearance.
But again, being a Slytherin through and through, nothing could stop Pansy from exploring the secrets for future benefit. And Slytherins stuck together.
"Blaise!" shouted Pansy through the fire, "Have you read the newspaper? Come to my place immediately!"
A few minutes later, Blaise rushed out of the hearth frantically with the Daily Prophet in his hand, still in his pajamas. "Bloody hell! How could this have happened?" he exclaimed, "I can't believe Crabbe is dead!"
Pansy rolled her eyes, "Hold yourself, Blaise. You're acting like a ten year old girl."
"Except Crabbe is dead."
Neither of the two spoke for a while. A bit dull, Crabbe might have been, but he was a friend, a Slytherin, and someone who had always been loyal to Draco, who had risked his life for them.
"Do you think it has something to do with Draco?" asked Blaise finally, hands balled into fists.
"And you have to ask?" returned Pansy impatiently.
Blaise took a deep breath. He paused, almost fearing to open his mouth. It was a question that should not be asked. "Then..." he began with difficulty, "is Draco...is he...?"
"Don't you dare say it!" screeched Pansy before Blaise could finish, firmly grabbing the young man by the collar of his pajamas. "Nothing will happen to him! He's safe!"
She was crying, perhaps not outwardly, not with tears or a red nose, but Blaise knew she was crying – on the inside. "I was just asking whether Draco was found," he said quietly.
It was lame, but Pansy said nothing. She blinked, loosening her grasp. "Right," she whispered, then said it again, "right."
The air pressed against Blaise's chest like solid granite, crushing the breath from his lungs. He wanted to hold Pansy - he desperately needed a hug right now -, yet he stopped himself, and coughed instead. "I...I managed to acquire something from Draco's house elf."
"What is it?" Pansy's head snapped up.
"It seemed Draco was making some kind of potion," answered Blaise.
"But Draco is always making potions."
"It's different," explained Blaise. "He went to the Ackerman's very often in the last few months before he went missing."
The infamous Ackerman's, who sold potion ingredients only by order, did business strictly face-to-face. Rumors, or the facts, for what it's worth, state that almost everything coming out of his shop was against the law. However, he was very discreet and thorough, leaving little to no evidence for the Aurors to find.
Pansy frowned, "Are you suggesting Draco was making something illegal?" She pondered over it, and added, "Not that it matters, but are you sure? Last time I checked, Daisy's lips were as sealed as a Gringotts' safe."
"I have my charm," replied Blaise dryly.
Pansy stared incredulously at him.
"What?" said Blaise defensively, "It's not a crime."
"Yeah, of course it isn't," Pansy murmured, "Did she tell you what he was making?"
"No, she doesn't know. Draco hid it very well. No matter what it is, it's important."
"Well...in that case," Pansy smiled sweetly, making Blaise's skin crawl, "a visit to Mr. Ackerman will be scheduled then."