''Malfoy,'' Potter pushed the door of his office without knocking. Draco had already been drinking his second cup of coffee. ''Anything new?''
Draco raised from his chair, put his hands on Harry's shoulders and place him in the middle of the room.
''Don't move, Potter.''
He then took the book he received during the night and mimicked to hit him just the way the person who has been hit with it was standing. Despite not knowing what was happening, Harry proceed has ordered. Repeating the same arm movement many times, just to be sure, Draco was unsatisfied with the results.
''That doesn't make any sense,'' he muttered to himself. ''Potter, what was the meaning of Hogwarts: A History to Granger?'' He asked.
Raising a brow to the odd question, Harry responded: ''It was her favorite book. She read it once a month back in Hogwarts. It saved us during the war. Why?''
''I believe she sent me this last night. '' He showed him the book he had in hand. ''There was a note with her initial,'' he lied about that last information. It was not a note, but her piece of paper that had warned him. He didn't know why, he decided to keep this information for himself. He continued.
''There is a stain on the back cover, in the middle of it. I thought that maybe she was hit with it. But now that I think about it, it looks more like fingerprints, or a weird pattern. I got the results this morning. This is not her blood, Potter. She was not hit with it. Perhaps she tried to hit her kidnapper with it and end up having his blood on her hands.''
Potter seemed to be thinking about this, but nothing came to his mind.
''I need to go and check her flat.'' The blond man stated. ''You go home Potter.''
XX
The furniture was upside down, the walls were clean of blood despite the fact that there clearly has been a violent fight. No blood, nowhere, to fit the stain on the book.
Malfoy noticed nothing unusual in the scene, not the object he was looking for anyway. He let Zabini look for clues as he started to look up for her room. He found it quickly.
Verifying that he was lonely, he took out the file – her file-enchanted-piece-of-parchment.
Hermione Granger – Case HG24601
It felt weird, reading her name as if they were simply having a daily conversion about their respective cases, but not really seeing her. He felt uncomfortable with the thought.
That morning, before Potter came into his office, another simple word had appeared on it.
''Maraudeur's map.
- HG.''
He had been rather insulted. Of all the clues, he received those lovely two words. Maraudeur's map. What did Maraudeur even mean? Was it even a word? Ugh! It brought back all the memories of him hating her, before the war. It brought back all his incomprehension for such a brilliant mind, and all his jealousy toward it.
So now, that was what he was looking for, a map.
He observed her bedroom, absorbing the view in all its details. The room was really, typical Granger. Everything had a particular place, in a particular display. Two of the four walls were white, the other two were a dark purple. The bed had white sheets, and in the corner, pinned to the wall, was a library. The bed was so well made, it almost seemed inviting.
He felt like a stranger, an intruder, stepping in her room. This has been the place she had slept, she had lived, she had thought. (Let's face it, thinking was her favorite activity.)
Shaking the feeling off his shoulders of being a perverted voyeur, he started to look for something, anything, in her room. Her clothing rested unmoved in her closed. Her robes were perfectly ironed. In the corner of his eyes, something caught his attention. On a library shelf, were all the books were disposed tightly one against each other, was a hole.
There was a book missing.
He tries to insert the file, but the book was too large for the place.
''Accio, Hogwarts: A History,'' he said aloud.
It took three minutes for the book to arrive. Once it did, it fitted perfectly. There was a sudden spark of light, and Draco vanished.
XX
He was back in his old school robes, at Hogwarts. Astonished by the thought that he might have been travelling in time, - how was that possible? Merlin's beard! And he thought he had seen it all! - he didn't notice the bushy hair girl standing in front of him.
''Thank Merlin you made it,'' She spoke.
He jumped at the sound of her voice. ''Granger?!'' They were sitting at the Gryffindor table, people were passing by, not caring about them one bit.
''Malfoy,'' she greeted by nodding her head in his direction. She smiled weakly.
A thought dawned on him at that very moment.
''Granger, tell me this is not a Horcruxe.''
After the war, the Daily Prophet had published the entire story of how the Boy who Lived had beaten Voldemort to ashes. Draco, to his surprise, was not portrait as the bad guy. In fact, he was mentioned maybe once, or twice. Yes, he had read it. He was curious, after all.
She flustered, her face becoming redder by the second and her breath harshening.
''W-What?! No, Malfoy, no! A horcruxe requires the soul to be broken, shattered to pieces by the act of killing. Never, in my entire life, would I do something so vile and unnecessary!'' Her arms were now crossed over her chest and her eyes were like daggers pointed in his direction. She took one, then two deep breaths.
''Malfoy,'' she continued as he kept his mouth shut,'' although I wish I could take a picture of you speechless, we have issues to discuss. This is not a horcruxe, it's a glimpse of my memory I have attached to an object.''
''Your favorite book,'' he interrupted, without looking at her. He has never been alone with her, never in all his years in Hogwarts, neither at work. There was always someone else to make the tension vanish.
''Indeed,'' she confirmed. He kept observing his environment. As the minutes went by, he noticed some details. The people walking around them were becoming faceless. Where there should have been a mouth, two eyes, a nose and two ears was a blur space that followed the body around, attached to it.
''Granger, what's that?'' He pointed at them.
She sighed, her breath now shaking. He took an interest in her; her eyes were puffy and had bags under them. She passed a hand through her hair, and he caught a glimpse of a bruise. He grabbed her forearm and pulled up her sleeve. It was completely bruised, with all shades of blue, black and yellow.
''Oh no!'' She cried. ''My body is taking over my mind, I can't hold up anymore. Draco, find the map, find it – just follow the clues, you're brilliant you will find them! Follow the clues! ''
Her voiced completely zoned out, as he snapped back – rather in pain – to reality. Dizzy, he looked down at his watch – 15 seconds had gone by. He tries to take Hogwarts: A History, off the shelf to bring it back with him. He pulled it, tried many charms, but nothing seemed to make the damn book move.
He felt dizzy. He didn't know if it was because Hermione Granger had complimented him, or if it was just a side effect of the memory.
Swearing under his breath, he took out the piece of parchment – he should give it a name, something to make it more personal - in hope to find another message.
'' I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.
-HG.'' It read.
''Dammit Granger,'' he kicked the wall with all his accumulated anger,'' I thought you'd be more precise – you of all people!'' Due to his violence, a piece of the mirror which was hanging on the wall broke down and crashed on the floor.
He swore he could see her smirk in his head.
But before he could take the time to analyze the words, Zabini apparated in the room.
''Malfoy, the ministry is under attack!''
They both apparated back to the ministry. And then, hell broke loose.
Utter chaos. Spells were thrown in all directions. A green light flew by him, he had the time to throw himself out of the way, the spell hit the wall behind him.
The scene brought back memories, memories he wish he could forget. It brought the war back. A few years ago, he was the boy who never had a choice. Now, her was Draco Malfoy, an experienced auror and a man worth of his choices.
He chose to fight for the right side. As an auror, he was not given the right to kill, except if he was attacked before and that his life was in danger.
''Stpefy! Petrificus totalus!''
He swore under his breath – and habit he had picked up from Zabini – when a charm hit him on the arm. Then, everything went black. Not because he lost conscience, but because the light was literally stolen.
He heard a lot of ''lumos'' being whispered as light stoke here and there.
Except Draco was use to darkness, he had been a part of it for too long. He chose not to reveal his position. Instead, he started to crawl on the ground, silently, slowly, like a predator spies on his victims. He saw a wand illuminated with light the only problem was that he didn't know to whom it belonged to.
All of sudden, the light came back. The assault had stopped, no attackers were left, only injured aurors and employees of the ministry.
Draco eyes grew bigger as a gasp escaped his lips, on the walls of the ministry were plastered different pictures of Hermione Granger, chained, beaten up and awfully bleeding.
In the air, written with fire, the words ''She will pay for her sin'' were burning bright, the fire slowly dying down.
XX
Later that night, after finishing cleaning the mess of the fight and sending the injured people to 's, Draco walked back to his office.
He twisted the door handle and pushed the door. He was so exhausted it seemed to weight twice as much as usual. The sight of his office was so unexpected that he almost dropped his wand.
The place was a mess. His desk was turned upside down, the piles of paper that were so neatly placed on his desk were now thrown off it, laying on the floor. Obviously, someone tried to find something. Who, and what? He noticed the only thing left untouched was his muggle wall of clues.
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