Chapter Six: Reasoning is the Devil

Hermione was furious.

No, furious just didn't cover it! She was murderous, she was deathly worried, and she was just about ready to rip Harry fucking Potter's balls off. She silently wondered if he would scream very loudly or if he'd take it like a man... Or was Ginny right? Were all men babies? As she watched him pace through his office, running his fingers through his already messy hair, Hermione nearly screamed at him.

But he beat her to it. "Why! Why would you do this?" He had a glare plastered on his face to match hers.

"Why would you bring me to him? Do you realize how much time we're wasting?" she snarled. "Do you care that little about my son that you'd put his life in the hands of that ferret? Fuck, Harry!" She buried her head in her arms, ready to go on a new crying jag. "I can't believe you'd do this to me."

"I'm trying to help you!" he nearly roared. He came towards where she sat on his worn office couch and held both of her wrists in her hands, forcing her to stare up at him. "Malfoy is the only one that can help us now."

She tried to escape from his grasp, but he wouldn't let go. Knowing it was a lost cause, she eventually gave up with a sigh. "We need to go to the Ministry, not employ a freaking ponce," she muttered. He rolled his eyes angrily and opened his mouth to retort, but she stopped him. "No! You just love Malfoy, don't you? He solves all of your fucking cases and just rains glory on your department, I get it. Trust me, I understand it perfectly. I'm not bloody stupid, Harry. I can read politics just as well as you can. I work at the Ministry too."

"Hermione-" Harry began, leaning away from her.

"No! Harry Potter, just accept the fact that you're not always right in these types of situations!" There were tears streaming down her face at this point and Harry had a pained expression on his face. "Just because there are dark wizards involved, doesn't mean you're God and get to call all the shots!"

"What do you mean?" He seemed perplexed or at the very least distracted. His expression at least told her that much.

"I know all about Malfoy. I know how he comes in whenever he wants, does things his own way-" She raised a hand that was still trapped in his to stop his inevitable interruption. "Don't you think I know all about how he works? You might be able to hide all of his habits from the public, but I've got enough ears of my own in the Ministry!"

Harry got up and sighed.

It didn't matter to her, she decided. Harry could pace around and sigh as much as he wanted to, it wasn't going to change anything. She hadn't been lying when she'd said she knew all about Malfoy's... work habits. She'd heard of his drinking, of his leaving the job halfway in the hands of the other Aurors, about the time he had been caught having sex on the job...

When she had stepped out of his floo a mere hour ago and saw him sitting behind his no doubt expensive desk, she had been shocked more than angry. After all, she wasn't in the habit of seeing old school enemies. She had been far too stressed to be polite, far too strung up to care about what he thought.

It wasn't as if he cared for appearances anyways, she thought. He had looked absolutely worse for wear. Well, actually, it looked as if he had been a recently released prisoner of war more than anything else. He looked as if he'd dropped at least ten pounds in the last few weeks, hadn't slept, shaved, or showered in days, and hadn't sat down long enough to figure out where his hands were let alone help her with anything.

But despite that, her sharp eyes couldn't help but take in the surroundings. She couldn't help but quickly see the Order of Merlins, commendations for public service, and the various other awards lined along the walls. The basic simplicity of the office, that was frankly unexpected of a Malfoy, was hard not to notice. But the most shocking observation that she'd made in the few seconds she'd had to observe the room, was that despite the fact that Malfoy looked like absolute shit, it was apparent that if he put in the effort, he'd be one dashing mother fucker.

She couldn't honestly be blamed. Anyone with eyes could see his lean muscles showing through his plain Oxford shirt, with just the first few buttons buttoned down for anyone to see his strong, lean chest... Anyone could see the flawless skin, the sleek hair.

And at that moment, she'd hated herself more than anything. Utterly loathed herself! But then a moment later, the anger had set in and she had mindlessly lashed out. Not at Malfoy, of course. That hadn't been strictly necessary. Only at Harry for bringing her to what was clearly her personal hell.

Of course, a mere 15 minutes later she had been able to come up with a plausible explanation for why she'd been unnecessarily rude. She was stressed, Malfoy was a fucking prat, and he wouldn't have been much use to them anyways.

But that was later. Her mind had come up with explanations later. She knew that when it was all done and over – and it all would be done and over one way or another – then she'd hate herself for the real reasons behind her actions. But for now, she'd just have to ignore it all, which she was more than content with.

Besides, Malfoy was a part, and slapping him had been gratifying.

"But Hermione, that's the only person who can help us, no matter what you say."

He's not what I need... Right? He's not what Hugo needs.

"Do you remember six years ago when they finally caught Dolohov?" Harry nodded as if it were obvious. It was obvious, of course. That had been the case that had gotten Harry the promotion to become head of the Auror department. "It took you six months to wrap that case up." Harry nodded slowly, as if waiting for her point. "After Dolohov had already killed fifteen people."

"But, Hermione-"

"Don't but Hermione me! I know that case was marked down as successful," she spat out, "but what about that mother who no longer has her son? Is she just going to have to live with that for the rest of her life?"

Harry shook his head. "It was a loss, I'm not saying I'm glad it happened, but there was nothing we could do-"

"Don't lie to my face, Harry!" He looked dumbfounded, but all she could do was narrow her eyes. "You're going to stand there and tell me Malfoy didn't have you wait that long so you could have a certain conviction before the Wizegmont? I have just as many friends in your department as you do – my husband was an Auror for godsakes! How could you lie like that?"

Harry sighed and took a seat beside her. They sat in silence for a time and she knew that he finally understood exactly what she was going through. This wasn't any old school rivalry. She was just doing what she had to do for her son, what was best for her son. She knew he'd see reason now.

"I don't want my son to be a casualty. I won't allow him to become collateral damage in a case that focused around catching some goddamn psychopath! I want my son back..."

"I get it," he eventually responded.

Silence fell between them once more. Eventually, Harry grasped her hand and helped her get up from the couch. She muttered an empty thank you and followed him to his burning fire. They silently flooed to the Ministry. He knew she was attempting to get the Minister to write her an express use of resources, approval to utilize several departments to find Hugo.

But he also knew that that wasn't going to happen. Not anytime soon. No, she had pissed off Malfoy, and if Harry had learned anything over his years of collaborating with the blond, it was that he knew how to hold a grudge.

"This is going to be a long arse day," he muttered as they stood next to each other in the lift.

"Isn't it always?" the occupants muttered back.

/

Hugo started awake. He wasn't sure how he had managed to fall asleep on such a cold, hard floor, but somehow he had. He felt as if something had hit him over the head repeatedly. He wasn't used to feeling so groggy.

When he finally opened his eyes and raised his head, he groaned. But then he realized he wasn't as bad off as he could have been. His head lay in the lap of the most absent looking girl and she had been randomly stroking his hair, scraping her nails lightly against his scalp. He realized this must have been what had woken him. Hugo had always been a light sleeper after all.

He lay his head down once more, so as not to disturb the girl. She startled very easily, he had noticed, and he didn't want to cause her any more pain than she had suffered. Besides, it felt quite nice laying there in her lap. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he were at home, laying in his mother's lap while she stroked his hair. She wasn't worried, and he certainly wasn't on a rock hard floor! No, he wasn't aching or sore...

He wasn't all dirty.

They weren't all trapped in this little dungeon type thing...

But unfortunately, he was his mother's son. He just couldn't ignore the fact that he was trapped in this desperately bad situation. And it was all because he had trusted a monster! He couldn't just forget that his mother would be worrying. He knew he had been gone too long and wouldn't be returning any time soon.

But that didn't change the fact that he was planning. Or at least trying to plan, though so far his endeavours had progressed unsuccessfully. That was also okay, he told himself. He had time. He could get them out of here and he knew it.

The reason Hugo Weasley knew he had time was because, unlike some of the other children, he had been listening.

It was almost surprising what sitting in silence could do to a kid. Hugo had learned very early in life that it was best to listen first and talk later – most likely not to talk at all. People would say things, if not in front of him, then somewhere close enough that if he just stopped breathing for long enough – if everything was silent enough, then he could hear things that he clearly was not meant to be privy to.

And silence was not a problem where he was trapped.

In fact, there was almost too much silence here. At first, the silence had bothered him to no end. He hadn't understood why the other children wouldn't answer his questions. Why they kept telling him to be quiet. All he had wanted to know was why he was here and what the other children knew. He had wanted to know what was in store for him.

But if the other children had had any inkling of what was going on and what the future held in store for them, they gave no indication. They had all but refused to talk to him, refused to utter a sound for fear that the man from the street would come back to haunt them. Or worse... hurt Charlie again.

Now, Hugo was a kind boy. Of course he didn't want poor Charlie to be hurt, Charlie was his friend after all! But he didn't see why they couldn't explain things to him in hushed whispers. The man upstairs didn't seem to have extendable ears, and as he lived in a house that was constantly squeaking and groaning, Hugo doubted if he would even be able to hear them.

But the others were too afraid to utter a sound. All but the little blank girl that didn't seem like she was fully there.

After the third time all of the other children had gone to sleep, the strange little girl called Hugo over to where she was sitting. It was as if she had just realized that he was in the room at all. The girl was an oddity, that was for sure. She would smile at Hugo whenever she noticed his presence, which was not often, and always when the other children had gone to sleep.

But Hugo didn't mind in the least, because it was in these moments that the otherwise blank girl answered all his questions.

"If you wish for answers," she said, "all you have to do is listen and you'll know. I listen, and they don't even know that I do." Her whispers were soft. Hugo had to lean in really, really close to even understand what she was saying. The girl smelled strange. Kind of like prunes. He had never liked prunes, but he didn't quite mind. It was better than the other boy's nasty breath.

"What am I listening for?" he whispered back. "Why are the other kids so afraid?"

"They all know that the man from upstairs is evil." And this was all she said, no matter how much Hugo whispered for her to explain. All she had done was pulled his head onto her lap and ignored him. It was as if Hugo didn't exist any longer. It was only after all of the others had woken that she had gone to sleep herself.

And then Hugo had taken her advice and began to be as silent as the other children when the man was around. He began to hear things that he wished he hadn't, heard things he really didn't understand, and understood what was in store for them.

Apparently, the man needed (or wanted?) eight children. Hugo didn't understand why this was so, and he wasn't sure that he was going to understand any time soon. But the important thing was that there were only seven of them. To Hugo that meant that whatever it was that the man wanted with them would only happen after he had tricked the eighth child into coming here. It had taken the man months to bring Hugo here. Hugo felt that he had a lot of time, then, to plan.

Another few hours had passed and the cycle repeated itself.

Once the children had gone to sleep once more, like clockwork the girl called Hugo to her once more. He had gone willingly, almost excited. She smiled at him as if he were a bright student. He was glad for this. He was more than willing to learn.

"You've been listening?" Hugo nodded eagerly. She smiled at his enthusiasm. "He wants our magic."

This threw Hugo for a bender. Magic? Their magic? They didn't even have any magic yet. No, they'd have to go to Hogwarts, like his mum had told him, and then the teachers at Hogwarts would give them their magic. Why would he choose them? They were just children...

But Hugo supposed that the girl knew what she was talking about. She had been the first child captured, that's what all of the others had told him – grudgingly of course, the others didn't really like to talk.

He wondered how she knew what she did. He wondered what had happened to her to make her the way that she was. But she didn't offer any explanations and he didn't ask, not wanting to be rude. His mum had always said that bad manners were the worst thing in an individual. Either way, it didn't matter what the man wanted from him or how he was planning on getting it. Hugo wasn't going to let him.

By the time the man returned with the eighth child, Hugo planned to be out of this scary place and he was going to take all of his new friends with him if it was the last thing he would do.

After all, he was the son of Hermione Weasley.

/

Draco literally groaned out loud when the last person he wanted to see stepped out of his floo, dropping a bit of ash onto his carpet. What did these people not understand about cleanliness? It wasn't that hard of a lesson! But he swallowed his complaint and waited. Perhaps the person he did want to see most would follow the idiot boy wonder out of his fireplace.

Only thing was, that didn't happen.

Instead, Potter tried to talk him out of his genius plan. That would've been fine, too. Draco would've understood. Potter was the golden boy, blah, blah, blah. He was obligated to tell Draco to be a good bloke and all that hippogriff shit. Except, Potter had it all wrong. Potter was being the idiot that Draco had always thought him to be.

"...You have to help her, you know. It's the right thing to do. It's your job-"

"Potter, will you just shut the fuck up? Seriously, mate. I don't want to kick you out of my office again." Draco sighed and Harry glared at him. Well, that was a lie. Draco very much did want to throw the scarhead out of his office, but it wouldn't go well for him and his brilliant career if he did that more than once a day. It was too bad he had already reached his limit...

"Well?" Harry asked after a few minutes had past. Didn't the man understand anything about silence is golden?

"Where have you been all day? Your Aurors have been reporting to me. No one's told you yet, big shot?" Harry looked dumbfounded at his statement. God, how was this man head of his department if he was this slow? "Obviously I'm going to help the bookworm, you dunderhead! I'm going to make sure I'm the only one who can help her and then she'll have no choice but to beg." Draco grinned almost gleefully. He almost looked demented.

Harry raised his brow, visibly relaxed now that he was sure that Hugo was going to get the help he needed. "That's an awful long way to go for a school rivalry, you know."

It was Draco's turn to raise his brow. "She fucking slapped me. Again! No one touches this," he said, dusting off his shoulders. "I'm just having a little fun, is all."

Harry stepped into the fire. "Alright, ferret. I'm warning you now, she's been to the Ministry and she's going to come here and kill you in oh..." he checked his watch, "about five minutes, give or take a second." Draco laughed and Harry somehow found it in himself to grin, despite all of the worry that was clearly consuming him.

With Harry gone, Draco managed to compose himself. So she was going to be here in five minutes, was she? Well, she had quite the surprise waiting for her. He had been to the ministry, had probably been there and back before she had even managed to get out of Potter's office. No one would touch her case now. Even the Auror department would refuse to see her as she would soon see.

Then she'd have no choice but to get on her knees and beg him. Know it all brat! How dare she pick a fight with him? After all of these years, she still kept her stupid little grudge against him. And what for? He hadn't taunted her. He hadn't done anything to her really. She had started this one, but he intended to see it through to the end. She would pay dearly for her stupid little mistake...

He literally was the only one who could help her, anyhow. He had seen the files the Aurors had brought him, had scoured through them as soon as they had touched his desk. This case was bigger than anything he had encountered before. He already had some of his contacts searching through the shadier types of crowds. He expected to hear from them by the end of the day – and then the chase would begin.

He rationalized with himself that he was doing all of this because the case was so interesting. Or because it was the right thing to do – helping Granger find her son. It wasn't because he needed something more in his life that he just couldn't find himself, no. It wasn't because stupid Granger had lit a fire in him that he hadn't seen in himself for bloody years!

No, definitely not.

But when she stepped through the flames, glaring at him hotly when she found him waiting for her, lounging against his desk, he really had to reconsider. But his mind didn't have time to ponder anything much because she was striding towards him – no, literally running towards him – with a murderous expression on her face.

Alright, this was going to be fun.

Well, at least he thought it would be fun until she grabbed the open ink pot on his desk and threw it all over his brand new shirt. (He wasn't going to admit to himself just yet that he had gone home and changed into his finest just because he knew that she was going to be there and he wanted to impress).

"What the bloody fuck was that for, Granger?" Draco said, staring at his now ruined shirt.

"Because you're an arsehole! Now fix what you've done!"

He tried his best to sound angry, and a part of him really was – that shirt had cost him 200 Galleons! But another part of him was amused. There were other shirts he could wear. This was the best game he had played in a long, long time, and he didn't need a wand or a sword to help him play it. Granger baiting was his most favourite game of all.

"I'm sure I've no idea what you're talking about," he said, grinning at her infuriated expression. He could tell that she was just itching to slap him, but was visibly restraining herself for some reason. "Don't you have some place to go? Something to do? Perhaps, getting on your knees and begging like there's no tomorrow-"

That had done it. She swung her hand towards his face, but he had been expected it this time and ducked, laughing at her red cheeks.

"You're a sick bastard, Malfoy. I hope you burn in hell!" And with that she strode towards his fireplace without a backwards glance.

"Shall I save you a seat?" he called after her. He thought he could hear her scream as she flooed off to Merlin knows where. Probably back to the ministry. Perhaps back to Potter to complain about how unfair he was being? It was amusing.

It didn't matter that she was gone for now. She would be back, probably in the next two hours when she realized that every option was now closed to her. He could wait. Besides, he had a lot of work to do. He did have a new case after all.

It was time he give his old friend Zabini a visit.