Title: The Well 6/?
Author: eidheann
Rating: PG-13 (for safety. language.)
Word Count: ~1100
Summary: Where there is a wish...
Warnings: angst. Also a bit of language.
A/N: Thank you to everyone for your comments and support.
It was late when he stumbled back into his flat, eyes swollen and chest tight. Lippy met him at the floo, hopping back and forth from one foot to the other. "Master has a letter! Master had an owl!"
He gave a tired wave to shut the creature up and she disappeared with a pop. He frowned and made his way to the study, and rubbed his head when he saw the DMLE stamp on the envelope. He lifted it, noted Granger's handwriting, and dropped it again. It had waited all day, it could wait until morning. At the moment, nothing seemed so desirable as sleep, perhaps for a month.
He made it to his room and out of the stiff formal robes before finding his attention returned again to the wardrobe. He sighed, and cursing himself for a masochist, he pulled out the familiar box. He tossed it onto the bed and angrily waved his wand as it unlocked and opened. The picture taunted him from inside. He raised his wand again, tempted to cast Incendio and put himself out of this misery. Instead, he reached inside and picked up the photograph. "I missed you today." His finger reached out and brushed gently against the tousled head in the photograph. "I miss you every day. I just try to pretend I don't. It makes it easier..." He sat on the bed, pulling his knees to his chest. "Nothing could make today easier."
~~~
He awoke the next morning to the apologetic-sounding pop of a house elf. He was still half-dressed from the night before, the box open in the middle of his bed and photograph clutched in his fist. Looking around, he saw his morning tray, this morning the letter from Granger making an appearance beside the toast. Grimacing at the tray, he took the tea, letting the photograph fall to his lap. It was half gone before he felt ready to face whatever it was Granger wanted this time. Reaching out and popping the seal, he pulled the single sheet of Ministry letterhead and began to read.
Mr. Draco Malfoy,Please come to my office at your earliest convenience.
Hermione Granger-Weasley
Office of DMLE, Inquest Division
He snorted, it was exactly the same as his previous summons to her office and told him precisely nothing. He pushed himself out of bed, unable to face the prospect of breakfast and paused as the photograph fell to the ground. Stubbornly, he left it there as he moved to begin his day.
Returning from the bathroom, clean, though unable to erase the redness of his eyes without a glamour, he frowned. The photograph was still on the floor, the letter and box on his bed, though the tray had disappeared again. He'd somewhat hoped that Lippy would have assumed the photo was trash and disposed of it with the tray, taking it from his hands entirely. He returned it to the box, but hesitated to close it. Cursing himself for a fool, he reached for it again and put it in his pocket. Then, taking the summons from Granger, he left.
~~~
The trip to the Ministry was the same as it ever was. Once again he gave up his wand and became a name badge in return. Again, the long hallway, again the brass plaque. He knocked and again answered the call to enter. He sat in the same chair and there was the same pause as each waited for the other to speak first. This time, it was he who broke.
"Your summons arrived during my father's memorial in France. I did not return until well after hours." He watched her carefully, wondering if her expression would change, but she remained a blank to him. He waited, the silence more effective at breaking through his careful resolve than anything said in the previous meeting. His knee began to bounce slightly, and he saw her gaze dip down and note it.
Bringing her attention back to his face, she merely stated, "I believe congratulations are in order."
He blinked, caught off guard by the non sequitur and replied without thinking, "what are you talking about?"
Her eyebrows rose and she slid a copy of the Prophet across her desk to him. Headlining the society page, an announcement of his and Pansy's engagement.
"Ah..."
"Surprising, as had anyone asked me, I would have told them I had it on good authority that you preferred men. And that you had sworn off the whole marrying a pureblood and continuing of the Malfoy family name..."
He glared at her, and his mouth opened before he had the chance to think. "Fuck you, Granger. Fuck you. You will not call me in here for something about my father who has died and then make jabs at me over something you know nothing about. Do your fucking job and don't tell me how wrong I am because I'm helping a friend. Do you know what that is, Granger? Sacrifice? Or do you really just think me incapable of doing something for someone else?" He shut his mouth with a snap as he found himself standing, leaning over Granger, palms planted on her desk. He focused on calming his breathing and straightened. "You don't know me, Granger. You never did, and you never cared to. You wanted to see me about my father. If you have something to say about that, say it. Otherwise, I will... I won't bid you good day, actually. I'll just leave."
Granger simply stared for a moment, then shook her head slightly and pulled her files toward her, covering the copy of the Prophet. "I need your memories of the Thursday your father... died."
"My... What? Why?" He sat back on the chair, frowning in confusion.
"The fact that there are multiple sworn statements from the guards and boatmen of Azkaban swearing you were regularly there has not changed..."
"But the decree-"
"Actually puts you in a bad place." She leaned forward, dropping her voice. "Some in the Auror department are making noise about you both breaking a Ministry decree by going to Azkaban as well as having something to do with-"
"Wait, they think I killed my father?" He stood again, shock making his voice as loud as anger had earlier.
She shook her head and gestured him to silence. "I need your memories, Malfoy, or you may face questioning under veritaserum. There were some... irregularities." Here her expression broke slightly, and he noted she was not always a convincing liar. "They don't think you... killed him."
"What aren't you telling me? What happened to my father?"
"Your father isn't dead. He somehow escaped. The Aurors think you had something to do with it. Now, give me your memories, all of them, for Thursday before I'm fired for revealing this."