Chapter Five: Good Luck, Granger!

Harry Potter wasn't normally the type to be surprised.

No, after having the life he had, it wasn't very easy to shock him. He'd wrestled a troll and found the philosophers stone at the age of 11, screwed over a Basilisk and solved the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets at age 12, he'd fought against an escaped convict and had won the Triwizard tournament...

Was he forgetting something? Oh right. He'd defeated the most psychopathic, deranged, dangerous Dark Lord of all time.

He really needed to not forget that little detail...

But since then, his life had only gotten crazier. It turned out that the Auror department was more than willing to capitalize on his good luck and apparent skills in the most dangerous of cases. Since his golden days, he'd travelled the world after the most insane of monsters and people alike. And as the years had slowly passed, as he had aged none too gracefully, his sense of shock and surprise had slowly whittled away.

It was safe to say that it took a lot to surprise the saviour of the wizarding world.

But when his best friend, Hermione Weasley, had burst into his office by means of his personal floo, Harry was a tad bit surprised. After all, Hermione was far too occupied these days for social visits, as was he. It was barely past seven thirty in the morning, and he had only just come into work himself. It was too early in the day for Harry to be truly occupied with anything too pressing. He briefly wondered if Hermione had come to take advantage of the precious lull.

Moments later, when he caught sight of her panicked expression and the waterfall of tears that were cascading down her red cheeks, he tossed the idea out of the window. There was something gravely wrong with his friend, he realized. Wrong enough for her to barge in unannounced.

Hermione never barged in unannounced. She was far too considerate to ever do something so... rude?

"Harry!" she nearly screeched the second her eyes found him sitting dumbstruck behind his desk.

"Hermione, is something wrong-"

"Hugo's missing!" she cut him off. "My baby is gone!"

Immediately, a surge of worry swept through him and took rest in his chest for his godson. "What do you mean, missing?" he asked, getting up from his seat and reaching for his wand unconsciously.

"He's gone, Harry! What am I going to do? Oh god, Harry... you have to help me! Please, you need to help me with this..." And with that, she had collapsed in a heap on his office floor in a dead faint, falling too quickly for him to sidestep his desk and catch her. Her mind had been too delicate to deal with such a catastrophic situation and her body too weak and exhausted to cope with the resulting stress.

But at the very least, she had managed to make it this far. She had managed to alert the most powerfully connected wizard in all of England. No one said no to Harry Potter – he was the saviour, obviously. Not to mention, Head Auror!

Harry, true to his legacy, leapt into action the moment he realized what was required of him. Gently levitating his unconscious friend onto his office couch, he alerted the entire department of what would be their new case. By eight o clock sharp, the entire department was filled busily, every Auror frantically scrambling to get their respective jobs done.

Harry loved the beginning of a new case, especially those that involved the entire department. He felt powerful in such situations, every genius mind that resided in the room looking to him for guidance. And guide them he did! He loved the hustle and bustle... loved the action. But today, the excitement and the contentedness of being occupied thoroughly was not present. His godson was missing and the mother of his favourite nephew was still passed out on his office couch.

By eight thirty, Harry had a group of Aurors present at Hermione's house, searching for signs of the missing Weasley. He was present himself only a half an hour later, with a very distraught Hermione crying into his shoulder. He had had to calm himself down before his the Aurors had called for his guidance to double check what they had found.

Harry had had to leave her at her kitchen table, sobbing over a cup of tea, before he went to assess the situation himself.

He started with the clearly distraught teenager that one of his Aurors had to revive from the living room floor. It seemed that Hermione had knocked the girl out cold before coming to find him and it soon became apparent why.

"I swear, I don't know... he normally is in bed! I...I didn't think to check on him, he's really good like that and -"

Harry sighed. This wasn't going to be useful at all.

"Keep her in custody," He muttered, before he left her with the uncomfortable man that had been questioning her. The girl was insipid, he could immediately tell – anyone could see it now. He was sure that no one would question Hermione's violence, not after speaking to the idiotic girl. She wasn't going to be of any use to the investigation. The case was clear – the babysitter had done everything but her job.

Instead, Harry decided to make his way up the stairs. His slow trip up the flight made two things very clear, and he knew that they were in a lot of trouble even before he had reached Hugo's room to confirm his suspicions.

First, there was a residue of magic that had a distinctly dark essence to it all over the flight of stairs, residue that did not belong to Hermione, the babysitter, and definitely not Hugo. There were layers that seemed to be sitting there, piled on for weeks. Second, it all seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

Harry shivered imperceptibly.

He contemplated his findings. Most magic commonly held traces distinct to its caster – as a piece of art is indicative of its painter. There was nothing distinct here. In fact, if he hadn't been thoroughly searching, he wouldn't have noticed it at all. It was as if it had intertwined with Hermione's magic, literally woven itself into it so that it was nearly untraceable.

If Malfoy hadn't shown me the difference...

Harry shivered once more, looking up the flight of stairs to see his Aurors looking at him curiously. They didn't question him, though, and he didn't offer an explanation. Some things were better left unsaid.

He continued his search, examining each step on his way up. It was strange. Something he had never seen before. How the hell could magic just appear from nowhere? How could it be so... nondescript? It's as if the kidnapper doesn't even exist.

But in the years since he had left Hogwarts behind, Harry had become a patient man. He knew not to act rashly, not to just jump on every little piece of information he had. He knew that that was the kind of thing that could get a person killed. He knew the best option at this point was to remain calm. At least until he had confirmed his suspicions.

He made his way to Hugo's room. He knew it was his nephew's room because of all of his visits to the same place...to meet the little boy that was now missing. He stopped himself from overreacting, from reacting at all, and began his search of the room. There were barely there traces of concealed magic, strongest in the corner behind the wardrobe that looked right over the bed. But no matter what Harry or the other Aurors did – nothing appeared.

They were empty handed, literally. It was as if there had been no magic at all, but for the tiniest of traces that couldn't be concealed. If it hadn't had such a darkness to it, Harry would've assumed it was simply Hugo's accidental magic. But dark it was, and a gloom set about Harry's shoulders.

They were at a dead end.

At first, Harry hadn't realized the gravity of the situation. No, when Hermione had burst into his office a mere few hours previous, Harry had just assumed it was the worry of a hysteric mother. He had been worried too – it was his godson for Merlin's sake! He had simply gathered all of the Aurors under his disposal because he loved the little boy as much as he loved his own children. But now Harry knew this was far more serious than anyone had anticipated.

They were dealing with an extremely dark and powerful wizard who apparently didn't bloody exist.

Yet, Harry tried his best. He did what any man would do in his position with the power that he had. Within the hour, the news had been spread to all channels of information available to him. By the end of the day, all of Britain would have their eyes peeled for Hugo Weasley. Harry Potter was nothing but efficient, but even he knew a lost case when he saw one.

Only one man could help them now and it was best if Hermione saw him immediately.

/

Draco was absolutely exhausted. His night chasing after Yaxley had been fun – yes, the chase was always fun – but what came after the chase always required more patience than necessary. He had insisted that he take Yaxley to Azkaban himself. Potter had never liked the place and Draco had always enjoyed seeing his jobs through to the end.

If only that didn't require hours upon hours of paperwork and an unnecessary trip to the ministry! He had no idea why he couldn't just shove the bastards into a cell and go home – let the Aurors do the paperwork. That's what they were good for, anyways.

But he begrudgingly accepted the menial tasks if it meant that he could put the evil fuckers behind bars himself. Why, he'd endure more than a few hours of idiocy if that meant he could enjoy the task of destroying the lives of those that had destroyed his. Revenge was sweet. He was willing to suffer for revenge...

Now, if only revenge could just not take all night.

It literally had taken all night. It had been well after six in the morning when Draco had apparated his unconscious captive to Azkaban. He had stayed for an approximate hour, ensuring the bastard had the most uncomfortable accommodations that Azkaban had to offer. His visit to the Ministry right after had taken far longer than necessary due to an admiring secretary which he just didn't have the energy to tell off.

By the time he had deposited his black blade into safekeeping and returned to shut down his office properly, it was well past ten in the morning. He was tired. He was haggard. He was ready to take an extended vacation.

This wasn't unusual behaviour for the young Malfoy. Draco rarely worked two jobs close together. As much as he hated to admit it, the Auror department didn't require his help all that much – only with the worst kinds of psychos. And Draco was more than willing to help out. They did pay him generously for his services and he genuinely enjoyed the tasks.

Yawning as he locked away a few files into his desk drawers, he decided he would take an extra long vacation. Potter could do without him for a while... Yes, Potter was capable of handling himself for a few weeks, wasn't he? He wasn't Potter's fucking sidekick. Potter was the golden hero boy wonder, or some shit like that... Potter could –

Why the hell was Potter stepping out of his floo?

Woah... Was that Granger?

All he could do was sit there and gape at the pair that stood staring at him. It took him a minute to realize that he wasn't hallucinating – yes, he was tired enough to hallucinate – and that the two people that had tormented him most throughout his adolescence were standing just on the other side of his desk. On his expensive rug. With their dirty shoes, no doubt...

Didn't they have any manners?

"Malfoy, we need your help," Harry began without an introduction.

But Draco ignored him. Potter was always talking, always on about what he needed. Draco wasn't particularly interested in what Potter needed at the moment. He was more curious as to why side-kick Granger was standing there, staring at him like he had offended her personally. Well he hadn't. Not in recent years... so she could just wipe that snotty look off her small, annoying little face.

"Is that really you, Granger?" he questioned stupidly. He had nothing better at the moment to address her presence. Normally, he would've been far more sarcastic, hilarious, and suave. But he was too tired. He had spent too many sleepless nights on the case. One too many, apparently.

"Weasley," Harry automatically corrected him. "She needs your help, Malfoy."

"Is that so?" Draco peered at them unconcernedly. It had been years since he'd last seen her. She had gotten married, hadn't she? Yes, she had... he remembered it in the papers. She didn't look a bit like she'd been put through the tortures of marriage. No, she looked quite fantastic, in fact. Besides looking a little frazzled, she looked like she had finally hit puberty. Seemed like she had filled out and all.

He almost missed what she had said to Potter, the first words out of her mouth since she'd arrived. She stared Potter down as if she was about to kill him, which, if Draco remembered her temper correctly, she probably was ready to.

"Are you being serious?" asked Hermione, her face contorted in rage.

Draco looked at Harry blankly, then to Hermione's incredulous expression, repeating the action no more than four times until finally his eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. "Woman, are you for real?"

Who did this stuck up bitch think she was anyways? He watched as her angry expression was turned towards him, as if it was obvious that someone like him couldn't help her. Well, fuck her, then. Just because he looked like shit due to his excessive work habits, didn't mean she had to judge him.

He nearly cringed. He had seen a mirror. He knew he looked as if he hadn't showered or shaved in days. He had a blank expression on his face for the most part, too tired to keep up his facade, and bags under his eyes the size of craters on the moon. They had caught him by surprise, he defended himself in his own head, he hadn't had the time to put on a glamour charm...

But Hermione Granger – Weasley, whatever the fuck it was, ignored him. She chose to focus her anger on the mighty Potter. "I thought Hugo meant more to you than this!" she hissed. "He's gone and you're wasting time with this...this..."

"Prat?" Draco supplied for her. "Bastard? Fucker? Death Eater scum?" He had a dangerous smile on his face, and she almost recoiled at the sight. He looked off his rocker. "I've heard it all, Granger, you're just going to have to be a little bit more creative."

She didn't answer. He hadn't expected her to.

He took his time staring at her, his chin rested against his palm. When she didn't move, just continued staring him down, he turned his gaze to Potter instead. "Next time, a warning would be nice before you bring this unnecessary bollocks into my workspace." He caught Potter opening his mouth to respond, but Draco cut him off before he had the chance. "No, Potter. My services don't extend to..." he let his gaze sweep over Hermione, "ungrateful, insolent witches."

So he could've come up with a better come back. He was too tired to care. What he wasn't expecting was Granger to come right up to his desk and slap him as hard as she could before turning around and glaring at Harry.

"I don't need this bullshit! Why the fuck would you bring me here?" So the insolent bitch had quite the tongue did she? "I demand you take this seriously!"

It took Draco exactly thirty-six seconds to realize that the monstrosity that stood before him had slapped him! He could feel the cheek she had unleashed her fury on slowly turn red. And by hell did it make him angry! She would pay. He had the resources to do that now. Violence wasn't the answer, not this time. But she would suffer for this...

"Good luck, Granger!" he chuckled. She turned around, surprised he was even talking. He stalked towards her and all Potter could do was grip at her arm and stare at the confrontation helplessly. "Take you seriously? No one's going to take you seriously now. You picked the wrong man to piss off!"

Her eyes narrowed and Draco felt a thrill run through him. "I'm not afraid of you, Malfoy. Never have been and I'm not planning to start now!" She poked him in the chest and turned towards the floo, pulling Potter with her.

But before she could leave, Draco grasped her spare arm, pulling her roughly back around so that he could bend down and stare at her right in the eye. "You're going to wish you hadn't said that, Granger," he threatened quietly. "You're going to beg for me, right here on this floor, by tomorrow morning."

This time he caught her hand in mid air before it could strike him.

"Now, get the fuck out of my office!"

When they were good and gone, after much shrieking from the witch at both men, Draco finally returned to his chair. He needed a drink for the headache Granger had given him. He groaned and rested his head in his arms on his desk. Feuds always took a lot of work and that would mean that vacation was out of the question.

Well then you should've kept your temper, idiot!

He groaned again, rubbing his head this time. He had been planning to try to convince Astoria to let Scorpius spend a few weeks undisturbed with him. But that would have to wait now, it seemed. Eventually, he knew he had to get up and get things done, but he honestly didn't feel like it. He had to convince himself that it would be worth it once he saw Granger's face. She would beg, he knew it. He had the Minister and everyone in that building wrapped around his little finger.

She doesn't stand a chance! he thought gleefully.

So, he locked up his office and went home to make himself look a little bit more presentable for the long day he was going to have. He was amused and excited at the prospect of making his school nemesis beg him for mercy. He would make hell rain down on her so hard that she'd cry.

But the only thought that lingered with him all day was the fact that the nagging voice inside his head, the very voice that had kept him alive these many long years... well, it sounded suspiciously like Granger, and he couldn't figure out why the hell that was.