Chapter Three: Downhill

Hermione was late as usual. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence at the Weasley household, especially not during these days. She was tired, she was sore, and she was damn fed up with people who had the audacity to wear a smile on their face whilst talking to her.

Like, what the bloody hell was there to be happy about?

So alright, work was starting to get a bit grating. But that was normal, right? She knew she couldn't just give up her hectic schedule and sleep all day, no matter how much she wanted to. But hey, that was life. She just had to suck it up and manage. She sighed as she tiredly climbed up the stairs, kicking her shoes off and undressing on the way up.

Fuck it, she had a nanny for godsakes. The nanny would pick it up in the morning or something. That's what she paid the kid for, wasn't it? She didn't know and she certainly didn't care. It was four in the bloody morning. When she had gotten home, she had found Manny fast asleep on the couch. She didn't bother to wake the kid up.

When she reached Hugo's room, she silently opened the door to peek inside, making sure not to wake him up. He had always been a light sleeper. Before she could even open the door, she stopped dead, turning around on the spot as if dazed.

What was she missing? There was something very important she was forgetting to do. But what could it be? What could possibly be more important than kissing her boy goodnight and making sure the most important person in her life was sleeping safely and soundly?

Hmm...

She heard a clatter downstairs and a sharp whistle that made her jump horribly. That was right! She'd left the kettle on to make a cup of tea when she'd come home... just a light little snack before bed. She'd completely forgotten!

Thanking her overly tired brain for reminding her of her stupidity before the house had burned down, she shut Hugo's bedroom door behind her and hurried downstairs to attend to the kettle. If only she hadn't been so clumsy whilst doing it. She banged her way down the stairs, waking Manny up in the process. She was surprised Hugo hadn't poked his cute little head out the door to find out what was making such a huge ruckus. Maybe he was really deeply asleep. Must have been tired after a long fun filled day...

"What's going on?" Manny sleepily grumbled, squinting at her through the glare of her wand light.

"Sorry. You can go back to sleep," Hermione offered. She was sort of maybe just a little sorry that she had woken the girl up, but not sorry enough to be nice to her if she continued talking. There was a limit to how much annoyance a human could take, and Hermione had already passed that threshold. It didn't help that she was extremely exhausted too.

But thankfully, Manny just nodded and went back to sleep.

Half an hour later, having consumed a cup of tea and several biscuits to calm her starving stomach, Hermione made her way back upstairs glad that she could finally go to bed and have some much needed sleep. She was just desperate to feel her soft pillow pressing against her cheek... a light blanket covering her weary bones... just sinking into the mattress...

When she passed Hugo's room, she paused. Had she checked up on him earlier? She remembered opening the door... Yes, she probably had. When she grazed the doorknob on her way across the hallway, she suddenly remembered that she had a presentation tomorrow that she had to prepare for first thing in the morning. God, yes, how could she have forgotten that?

And so, Hermione made her way to her room and collapsed onto her bed. She was asleep before her head had even touched the pillow.

/

Draco put up his most brilliant fake smile for the cameras as they flashed maniacally around him. He had his hand firmly planted on Scorpius' shoulder and his arm loosely placed around Astoria's waist. He actually had to try hard not to strangle the bitch where she stood.

But that wouldn't do. Too many witnesses. He would have to wait until the end of the night, perhaps. He could corner her in the loo and bash her stupid little head against the sink until she slowly bled to death. OR! He could poison the bint at dinner! No muss, no fuss. Wasn't that his motto, anyways? Yes, that was exactly what he was going to do, and it was going to go brilliantly just like every other bloody thing he put his mind to.

You can't kill your wife in front of so many people, you idiot! Said a voice inside his head. His smile dimmed just a tiny bit. It was that annoying voice of reason in his head. Why the fuck was it there? But more importantly, why the hell was it messing with his ingenious plans?

Because they're not so genius obviously. God, Malfoy, you're slipping up! I'm the only thing keeping the both of us alive and you know it.

He had to stop himself from gritting his teeth and growling. As much as he hated to agree with the annoying little nag inside his head, he had to admit that it was right. He couldn't just up and kill his wife at such an event. What if the suspicion fell on him? Not that it would. He was a well respected member of the wizarding society of elites. But it wouldn't do to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

That was the last thing he needed. He was, after all, the man of the hour...

Yes, that was right. He was being celebrated at this pathetic excuse of an event. Him and his brilliant genius. He had cracked another case and put another psycho behind bars. Half of the cells in Azkaban's highest security floors were filled because of yours truly. Yes, Draco was adept at his job and the wizarding world was indebted to his expertise.

Even the auror department at the ministry and its head - the great and noble golden boy, Harry Potter – respected him for his work. Gold and silver did match together brilliantly after all. No matter that it had taken the Gryffindor poster child more than a decade and a half to figure it out. But that was alright. Draco didn't see the need to hold that particular grudge any longer.

Draco and his line of work were very distinct. He was not an auror and he definitely didn't work for the ministry. As if he would stoop so low as to let a bunch of fools practically own him. He was perfectly happy working for himself, thank you very much!

No, Draco had his own brand of vigilante justice that he liked to dish out from time to time. He was essentially a more glamourous version of a superhero. Minus all that costume bullshit, of course. And hiding his identity? Why the hell would he do that? Everything he did was legally sanctioned. Witch Weekly had entitled him a bad arse, which was true. The Daily Prophet had labelled him the most desirable male in all of Europe. Also true. Rita Skeeter look a likes really were useful after all!

One could say Draco enjoyed his work. He loved the freedom to do things the way he wanted. Loved the fame that was rightfully his, and not just because his parents were rich. He enjoyed that he had made a name for himself with his own bare hands and hard labour. Not that the galleons in his bank account hadn't helped with that...

But most of all, he loved being the one taking down sick motherfuckers, some of which had ruined his own life.

So alright, he wasn't one to forgive and forget.

During the war, he had grown a deep seated hatred of all things that attempted to ruin his perfectly good life. Racism, ideology, and blood purity were all perfectly fine to believe in and practice, but when it personally took over his house and let a fucking snake face run his life... well, fuck that. He had better things to do.

So now, they were all going to suffer for even attempting to mess with him. Torture? In his own bloody house? Yes, they'd all suffer. Besides, he just didn't like some of the bastards. They were seriously fucked in the head. Anyone who was capable of such cruel things deserved to be locked away for eternity. They were a hazard.

To those that would disagree – Exhibit A: Fenir Greyback. Case closed. Point proven.

He surveyed the room, viewing its occupants and entertaining Scorpius with his astute observations. That is, until his bitch wife appeared and whisked Scorpius away. There had been nothing he could do without making a scene, and making a scene wasn't an option at an event like this. No one else needed to know that the great Draco Malfoy had a disastrous home life. So he sat there by himself, attempting to hide his mounting anger.

Instead of shouting at the bint that had irked him so, he rudely gestured to a fearful waitress to bring him his firewhisky. When she did, he knocked it back and gestured for another. She went to fetch it without a question. He repeated the action four times.

"Might want to slow down on the alcohol intake, yeah? Or I'll have to stop you from apparating home."

Draco looked up to find Harry Potter smirking at him just a few feet away. No, not smirking, he corrected himself mentally. That wouldn't be right. Potter was a golden boy, and golden boys did not smirk obviously. No, Potter stood there smiling at him. As if he actually had a reason to do so.

Draco gestured for the man to sit down in the chair his wife had vacated not 10 minutes previously. When he did, Draco went back to his drinking spree seemingly ignoring the man, preferring to people watch instead of make proper polite conversation. But Harry was more than used to this kind of disposition on the blond. He had collaborated with Malfoy on many an occasion and had almost begun to expect the aloofness.

He almost appreciated it. He could be anyone in front of the sullen Malfoy and it seemed as if Malfoy wouldn't care or expect anything else. It was almost a relief from the continual expectations his friends, family, job, and society expected from him.

"Something bothering you?" Harry finally asked when the silence had stretched on.

Draco slightly turned his head to face Potter, just enough so he could see the eyebrow raised skilfully in question. "You very well know that I can handle my drink exceptionally on occasion." To that he raised his glass to Potter before downing it whole. "Unlike you and your last year's Christmas fiasco."

Harry chuckled, indicating that he was sufficiently distracted and Draco smirked lightly at his accomplishment. "I'd appreciate you not mentioning that in front of my wife."

It was as if uttering her title had called the she-devil back from whatever pit she had crawled into, for Astoria appeared in front of Draco before he had even registered what was happening. Perhaps the alcohol had impaired his senses after all, because he sure as hell was not prepared for the impending catastrophe. He mentally groaned as he caught her expression. Harry had the decency to look away from what was most likely going to be a full on collision course.

Just to put up an appearance in front of the scar head, he gestured for her to come closer but she shook her head in disgust. So she wasn't for appearances tonight. Well, at least he bloody knew in advance. So he tried another approach and hoped to hell she would go for it so he could at least save some face in front of Potter.

"Hello, love," he said in what he hoped was a meek voice. "Having a good evening?"

"No! No thanks to you, Malfoy!" she growled loudly, as if she despised belonging to any family he was a part of. "We're leaving. You can stay with your overgrown grabby old ministry friends and don't expect us to be home when you decide to crawl back!" She stormed off, Scorpius staring back at his father apologetically.

She was seething and he had just provoked her. She was lucky that they were in such a public place with so much press covering their every move. She knew it too. She also knew that this type of shit would not fucking fly in the Manor. Why, he would lock her in her goddamn rooms, fuck it all! Perhaps that was why she refused to be home alone with him.

Draco visibly cringed and felt Potter pat his shoulder reassuringly, as if he suddenly understood all of the problems in Draco's life by witnessing that embarrassing exchange.

"It gets better mate," Harry helpfully supplied. "Ginny was always at my throat for these...events..." All Draco did was raise an eyebrow once more as if to ask, really? "I suppose it's an unpleasant experience all together, but the bickering eventually stops after the steam runs out."

"The steam runs out, does it," Draco muttered uninterestedly.

He supposed if he could get Potter to keep talking, the man would keep off of his back. Harry chuckled, nodded, and took a sip of his drink as if it was the medicine to all of his problems. Draco filed that bit of information away for future use. What an unhealthy view of alcohol.

"I suppose the occupation doesn't help the married life," Harry added knowingly.

Draco sighed. At least Pothead had something there. "Yes, it's a strain," he finally admitted. Potter could hear this bit of information and make of it what he would. "Nothing I can do about that though. It takes up too much time to do things... properly." Like slice her throat open and bury her in the fucking back garden, for example.

Harry nodded knowingly. "I know exactly what you mean."

Draco couldn't help it. He just burst out laughing, harder than he had in ages. Harry, slightly bewildered at the strange response, eventually joined in too. Ah, if only Potter knew the real thoughts passing through his mind. He'd probably freak and make an arrest, either before or after becoming practically obsessed.

But in the end, Draco's mind and thoughts were safe and the pair moved on to business matters.

"Listen, I need you to keep your Aurors out of the back end of Knockturn alley tomorrow night. I'll owl you the time. Have them close enough, just in case."

Harry shrugged. "That sounds do-able."

Draco grinned properly for the first time that night since he'd walked in through the door of this dreadful event. "We're going to go hunting tomorrow, mate. And I've a feeling we're not going to turn up empty handed."

They toasted to it before falling back into companionable silence for the rest of the night.

/

Hermione yawned as she got up for the day, already regretting leaving her bed. She had barely gotten enough sleep, but when she stared at the clock she realized that she'd overslept and was already late to work. But for some strange reason, she just didn't care. They could manage without her for an hour and a half. She was tired for godsakes! Just because she was a woman and a war hero didn't mean that they could overwork her.

When she was ready for work, all dressed and glossed as best as she could manage for that time of the morning, she went downstairs. Manny was still passed out on the couch, unaware of her surroundings and an indifferent Hermione. The girl looked far less composed when she slept, Hermione noticed. She wasn't sure what that said about the teen, but at that moment she was willing to let it slide.

Hermione began to cook breakfast and waited silently, watching the seconds on the kitchen clock tick by.

Tick.

Where was Hugo? He was normally up by this time and bouncing around the kitchen.

Tock.

Perhaps he was just tired? He could just be sleeping, of course...

Tick.

She wondered if she ought to wake him. This was their time of the day after all...

Tock.

No, she ought to let the poor kid sleep.

Tick.

But she ought to check on him, at least. Yes, she'd do that. Kiss him good morning before she left.

Smiling at her decision, she made her way towards the stairs quietly. It was alright that her baby had slept in. They could catch up tomorrow, of course. At the very least he'd be well rested. She almost began humming, her mood was that light. She didn't know the reason, nor did she care to know. She hadn't been this carefree in a long while. Maybe not since Ron had died. She'd certainly never been this late to work on purpose since Ron had left Hugo and her to suffer alone...

When Hermione touched the door to her son's room, a great jolt went up through her arm. She was suddenly reminded of all of the appointments she had to attend to that day and that huge presentation of hers that she still needed to prepare for. What the hell was she still doing at home? Her mind became frantic and she almost bolted down the stairs in panic.

But on exactly the fifth stair she stopped, paused, and turned right back around to face the door behind which her son lay. A door which obviously was charmed against intruders and/or curious eyes. She was tired, yes, but she sure as hell wasn't tired enough to not notice something so obvious. The only thing was... she hadn't put the charms there.

... And she was certain Manny and Hugo hadn't either.

Rushing back towards the door, Hermione whipped out her wand and muttered the counter spells and hoped that was all that was stopping her way into Hugo's room. Luckily, when she finally barged in nothing else stopped her progress.

But Hugo wasn't there. No one was.

She began to panic. She searched everywhere. His closet, under his bed, the loo, her loo, her bedroom, downstairs, her kitchen... but he was nowhere to be found.

Hugo Weasley was missing.