Disclaimer: No money being made; no copyright infringement intended. I write for fun and to learn.
Chapter 13: The Ones We Love
Frozen; my tongue felt like a useless thing in my mouth.
Draco gracefully extracted himself from my body and stood to gather our things. My body was suddenly chilled from the loss of contact, but I couldn't voice my protest. My heart was in my throat, and I was afraid that if I moved, or spoke--or even blinked, then this moment would shatter into a million irreparable pieces. Draco fished his wand from where it had rolled beneath the chair and cleaned us off.
What was he thinking? Should I say it back to him? Does he want me to?
Draco is in love with me?
"I can practically hear the cogs turning in that huge brain of yours," he said, slipping into his sleep trousers. "And that's fine—we will discuss it, but not tonight. You need rest."
He suddenly stopped, and leaned towards me until his face was inches from mine. A crease formed in his brow, and he looked like he was thinking--hard. Finally, he closed the space between us and planted a kiss on my lips. His were warm and still swollen from our love-making.
I found my voice. "Draco, I—"
"We'll talk about it tomorrow." He kissed me again.
The words were there. I wanted him to know that I loved him too, but I couldn't force it past my tongue, out of my mouth. Not yet; so I just nodded, and said, "Okay."
We didn't talk about it the next morning, because I left.
He said we would discuss it, but I had no clue what to say to him. I'd been awake all night thinking about Draco and the murders, but mostly Draco. I was happy and confused and scared all at once. I had never considered that he might return my feelings and there could actually be something of a future with him.
And now, I had to analyze his words—rationalize everything within an inch of its life until it fit into what my mind could accept as plausible. What if he didn't mean it? What if it were one of those heat-of-the-moment things?
I couldn't take it because now I had begun to hope. What had started out as sheer curiosity —fine, curiosity and lust— had now morphed into something that made me feel as though I were flying and falling all at once. It was something that I didn't think I was quite ready to have, but when are any of us really ready for love?
I'd read once, a book by Mathilda Mellosworth entitled, 'Identify Yourself, Witch', that said people never really believed they could find real love, so they settle for companionship—someone to touch and kiss and talk with. I personally think love is something most people fear having because they fear losing it. Companionship, I had in abundance. I wanted what Draco offered so badly, I could taste it. I wanted love, even if I was afraid of it.
It took me all night to figure that one out, which didn't leave much time for me to figure out what I should do about the murders.
After having next to no sleep, I got up at the first sign of daylight and dressed quietly. It was a workday and Draco had taken the day off to spend with me, but I had other plans. He was still sleeping deeply when I scribbled a note on a torn piece of parchment and placed it on my pillow next to him. Silently, I crept out of the room and down the stairs to use the Floo.
It was early.
The sweet-smelling, mingled aroma of tea and pastry shops all along Diagon Alley mixed with the fragrance of late spring. My stomach grumbled and I couldn't remember having eaten anything at all the day before. Mrs. Weasley would have had a fit. Of course, I knew nutrition was important, but after all the death I'd seen, eating wasn't at the top of my to-do list.
I made the turn onto Knockturn Alley, down the narrow street and into the tall skinny door squished between two shops.
I didn't expect to find anything useful to the Auror's case, but it would satisfy my curiosity, anyway. Draco had said he'd met the girl in the hospital when he had been recovering from burns from Crabbe's cursed fire. The girl's injuries sounded curiously similar to mine. That's what bugged me the most. I felt as though there was a connection, I just didn't know what it was. I needed to find something—anything that might help with her mysterious death.
If Draco had been in the hospital because of Crabbe's fire, then the time frame would have been at the end of the war, five years earlier. I asked the librarian to see copies of the Daily Prophet from the year 1998, through the month of July.
It was tricky. During that time, Voldemort had taken over the Ministry and any source of news except the Quibbler, and even that, eventually.
Crimes had been covered up and only half truths had been reported. I spent more than an hour combing the newspapers. I was frustrated because I had found only a hand full of articles that actually reported the news as it happened. There was nothing about the girl and her sister. I snatched up the last paper and scanned the first page, and I might have tossed it aside as well, but the name 'Larry Luchtenstein' caught my eye.
Curious. I had no idea Lucky had been in Law Enforcement during the war. I unfolded the paper and read the entire article as fast as my eyes could follow the words. Apparently, the end of the war had been around the same time he had joined the Law Enforcement department. An interviewer from the Prophet had asked questions pertaining to the unsolved deaths of the Muggle wife and Muggle-born step-daughters of his partner, Micah Trotman.
Coincidentally, the children had died from burns, but there wasn't a reported fire. At the end of the article was a picture and quote from Micah's ex-wife, a pure-blood witch.
"It's a terrible tragedy that magical children had to die this way. But I think it is proof that Muggles shouldn't be allowed to raise magical children. It's like trolls trying to raise humans—they just don't know how… Micah and I amicably split several months ago, but I send my sincerest condolences…"
I stared at the picture. Besides the awful quote to the left of her photo something else bothered me. There was something incredibly familiar about her face, the way she blinked coyly at the camera. I was certain I'd never seen the forty-something year old witch in my life, and yet, I felt as though I'd seen those dark eyes before; but where?
I folded the paper and with an abruptness that nearly tipped my chair, I stood. There was only one way to find out.
I headed towards the exit as quickly as possible without breaking into a run. Lucky worked the graveyard shift. I checked my watch and knew that if I hurried, I might be able to catch him before he left for the day.
I Apparated inside the Ministry main level within seconds and jogged to the lifts, ignoring the stares as I ducked inside and pounded my fist on Level 7.
The doors had barely began to part when I squeezed passed them and ran down the corridor to Magical Law Enforcement. I paused outside of the Law Enforcement door, trying to catch my breath, and then reached out to turn the knob.
I immediately realized that I'd never been in the Law Enforcement Department before. It looked quite the opposite of the Aurors' office. It was a sea of cubicles and file cabinets, the occasional harried looking solicitor and a wall full of memos and most wanted posters. There was no way I would find Lucky's desk before he left.
I stopped a solicitor that passed close by. The young man was tall and very thin with dark blond hair. "Pardon me," I said, "Could you point me to Larry Luchtenstein's desk?"
The man eyed me carefully the pointed to a door at the side of the room. I'd forgotten, Lucky was a detective. He'd have his own office. "Over there, but you've just missed him," said the man.
Damn.
"Oh," I said. "Thanks anyway. I'll come back later." I turned and was already thinking of sending an owl to Lucky's home when the man stopped me.
"Excuse me, Miss?" I turned and the man ran long fingers through his hair.
"Yes?"
"His partner, Micah Trotman might be in, if you wanted to leave a message. Just knock before you enter." The man grinned. "Trotman's an old grump."
"Thank you …"
"Roger."
"Thank you, Roger."
He winked. "No worries, love; the pleasure's all mine."
I blinked. The moment I'm in a relationship is when men decide to flirt with me. I shook my head and went to the door he had pointed out.
Lucky and Trotman's office was one of about four offices lined up along the left wall. It had one slender window.
The blinds were drawn, but I could just make out Trotman's face through the cracks. Roger was right. He looked quite surly, but six years of Professor Snape had made me impervious to such a greeting. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
"What do you want?" said a deep, gruff voice that matched his expression and reminded me of Alastor Moody.
"So sorry to disturb you. I actually came to see Lucky—"
"Lucky isn't here."
I felt ridiculous having this conversation through a door. "I am aware of that. If I could just come in—"
The door suddenly swung open to reveal Trotman glaring at me from behind the desk. I stepped inside and immediately noticed the acrid stink of cigars. I walked forward to stand in front of his desk, next to the chair. He might have sounded like Moody, but he sure didn't look like him. Micah Trotman was very attractive. He had an olive complexion and dark, wavy hair that was slightly grayed at both temples. He looked big but lean and had dark, fathomless blue eyes
However, it was all ruined by the deep scowl that was etched into his face.
"May I?" I asked, indicating the empty chair.
He didn't answer so I sat down anyway. Trotman watched me and waited for me to give reason for my intrusion.
"Thank you for seeing me," I said. "I'm Hermione Granger."
"I know who you are. What do you want?"
"As I've said, I came to see Lucky, but it's even better that you're here. You see, I'm sort of working with the Auror department on the murder case of the Muggle-born women." I paused to gauge his reaction. He calmly blew smoke in my direction.
"What has that got to do with me? As you've stated, that's now an Auror case." He was bitter about that. I could tell in the way his lip curled when he said 'Auror'.
"I've noticed some consistencies in the way these poor women died with a case a few years back," I said. "A case that's now gone cold, and I think—I think you might be able to help me with that."
"That so?" He leaned back in his chair and narrowed those deep blue eyes on me.
I resisted the urge to snatch the cigar from his lips and snuff it out on his desktop. "It's about your stepdaughters, Sir; I believe their deaths are somehow connected to this current case. Perhaps even committed by the same person. I'm aware that their… the suspect was never apprehended."
As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew that I believed it to be true. That's what had been bothering me about the whole thing. There were just too many similarities to be coincidental.
Trotman was still as stone. I was starting to think he'd not heard a word I said, but then his face slowly turned bright red.
He blinked. "Get out." His words were flat, emotionless, and cold.
"Detective Trotman, I am so sorry for your loss. I am, but I believe there is a connection between these deaths and your family. If you could just--"
"Look," he said, and crushed the cigar in an already overflowing ashtray. "If the goddamned Aurors couldn't figure out who the murderer was, I don't know why you think you will. Let my daughters rest in peace."
"But Sir, I think—"
"I don't care what you think. It's people like you, sticking your nose where it don't belong, that make it hard for me to do my job. Leave the detective work to me."
"But, Sir—"
"Keep your nose out of my business. You can let yourself out."
And just like that, I'd been dismissed. He turned back to his work and completely ignored me. I sat there for nearly a full minute half-expecting him to say something else. I had never expected him to be so uninterested in finding the person that murdered his whole family. I quietly got up and walked to the door. I paused just long enough to glance back at the detective.
"You know, you are the most dispassionate, uncaring person I have ever had the misfortune to meet. Good day."
I slammed the door as I left.
"Package came for you."
I looked up from my work spread across the desktop in Draco's study.
"What? I didn't order…" My words trailed off and my blood suddenly turned to ice in my veins. Draco's eyes widened as well. I immediately thought about the last time I had received an unexpected package.
"Bad choice of words," he said. "I meant to say I ordered something for you and—here."
He laid two large boxes on the desk in front of me. I slowly calmed down and my heart rate returned to normal. My fear easily subsided to curiosity.
"What's this?"
"Just one less thing you have to do. Open them."
I grabbed the one to my left. It was a big box wrapped in light blue paper. I lifted the lid and glanced at Draco who was leaning against the back of the sofa, watching me. I looked back down at what I'd uncovered and first saw a small white card on top. It simply read: From Draco.
I pulled the tissue paper aside and gasped. It was a set of moonlight-silver robes. I lifted it from the box. The fabric was lighter than air in my hands. It was adorned with tiny crystals along the hem and cuff. The neckline dipped rather low and was held together by another, slightly larger crystal. It was a lovely garment, and very expensive-looking.
"Draco, it's positively beautiful."
He walked towards me looking extremely pleased with himself. He lifted the lid from the other box and revealed a stunning, violet dress. It was a long, formal, halter-style chiffon dress that was unadorned. The elegant, flowing material moved like water.
I loved them both.
My first instinct was to refuse such extravagant and expensive gifts, but Draco was mine and I his. He was perfectly within his rights to buy me things if it made him happy. And I was within mine to accept them.
Draco, however, noticed my hesitation.
"Is something wrong?" he asked. His face was impassively curious and only his voice quavered slightly.
"I was just thinking about how being with you is still so new, different." I brushed my hand along the dress again. "This is almost too much."
It took me several seconds to work up the courage to grab his shirttails. I was still learning him and he wasn't making it easy; his moods changed with the wind. I pulled his body close to mine and wrapped my arms around his slender waist. To my delight, he let me.
"Different, eh?" he said. "Well you better get used to it."
I hugged him tightly. He smelled like soap and something distinctly Draco. I looked up at him and those mesmerizing eyes were staring right back. "Thank you."
He frowned a little.
"What?" I asked.
"Well, I expected you'd be a little more thankful than that—I was hoping for a kiss, at least."
I leaned my head back to get a better look at him. "Please tell me that was a joke."
He shrugged. "Women are hard to buy these days."
I pinched his side and he jumped from the circle of my arms, laughing.
"Prat," I said.
He laughed some more and came back to me, kissed me. "I'm just having at go at you," he said between kisses. "Relax…."
He claimed my lips in a brief but intense kiss. He pulled away, slightly tugging my bottom lip as he did. I nearly groaned in protest. How I loved his lips.
He circled around the sofa and fell onto it with his feet in the cushions. "Where have you been all day?" he asked.
All day? I had forgotten that this was actually the first time I'd seen Draco since I'd left this morning. And now, I could see the sun through the French doors, the sky was a dark purple, like an old bruise. And it was quickly fading into night. It had been a long day.
I had been back and forth between writing my speech for the Ministry ball and puzzling through this murder case. Harry said he'd call us if there was anything new to report. I guessed no news was good news.
So far, I'd managed to come up with a couple of key points for the speech and nothing for the murders. I was stuck. Harry had compiled this very logical list of suspects. However, the suspects couldn't possibly be connected to the murders five years previous. Something was missing.
I completely abandoned my work and limped over to join him on the sofa. I think I had done too much on a sprained ankle for one day. I sat with him and he motioned for me to turn so that I could rest my foot in his lap. He took it up without hesitation and began to massage the ankle, and waited for me to talk about my day. I told him about everything: the library, Officer Trotman, and my suspicions about a possible connection between the two cases.
"But, if Pansy or Daphne is our suspect, how would they have committed the crimes nearly five years ago?" Draco asked. "They were in school just like us—well, like me. And more importantly, why would they have killed Cynthia and her sister?"
"That's where I'm stuck." I sighed. He used his thumb to work out a sore spot in the arch of my foot.
"Don't worry yourself over it," said Draco.
I quickly pulled my ankle from his hands. I stared at him in disbelief.
"What?" he asked.
"I can't believe you just said that."
"What?" he repeated. "That you shouldn't worry?"
"Yes, that. Penelope was one of the nicest people I've ever met. What did she do deserve this? What did Lavender do? I've even had an attempt on my own life. How can I not worry until this person has been stopped?"
Draco swung his feet to the floor, but still faced me on the sofa. "Hermione, trust me, everyone wants to stop whoever is making all our lives miserable, but when has anything ever been solved in a fit? The only way to accomplish anything is with a clear head."
I scoffed. "That's easy for you to say…."
"No, it isn't, but it's the truth. You know it."
He was right. Still, no matter what rationale Draco presented me with, I wouldn't sleep until the killer was brought to justice. Tears welled in my eyes and I tried to hold them back. Tears typically make men uncomfortable— at least that had been my experience with Ron and Harry.
"I'm so angry," I said. I'm angry with myself for not being able to save Penny or Lavender. I'm angry with this— this woman, for doing this in the first place."
"That's the problem with you Gryffindors. Always thinking you can do foolish things like protect everyone, when you just can't. You can only be responsible for yourself and hope everyone else does the same."
"Are you saying that if we found ourselves in a threatening situation together that you would save yourself?"
"No, I'm saying that playing hero will only get us both killed."
I looked askance at him. "This coming from an officer whose job is to protect others."
"You're right … that's my job, not yours. I don't worry about it, I just do it."
"I'm scared, Draco. I just want it to be over. I don't want anyone else to die." A tear escaped and rolled down my cheek to the corner of my mouth.
As I predicted, in the face of tears, Draco didn't really know what to say. He decided to pull me into his arms and hold me tightly against his chest. I wrapped my arms around him and held him back and it didn't matter that he didn't know the words to make everything better because there weren't any. We still hadn't even mentioned the confession Draco made to me last night, but I felt it. I knew it was true.
I was even more determined to protect myself and the people I love. Contrary to what Draco might think, I had no silly delusions that I could save everyone; however, there were a handful of people that I held dear and I would do anything in my power to keep them safe.
We fell asleep in each other's arms.
AN: I really appreciate the reviews from the previous chapter. Thanks Ceylon, UnseenLibrarian, Roseasweet, Dramione-Fan17, FemAguila, Stella-TakeMeHome-, and DaOnLeeSam! Also, a very big thanks to kamikazetryst for the beta job.
P.S. I tinkered with this after she returned it, so any typos or mistakes, are my own.
