Guys. I am so sorry that this has taken so long to post. It was finals week and my birthday...

But here's a chapter.

Chapter

The first thing she did when she stepped into her living room was put up a ward so that no one could enter through the floo. Malfoy wasn't the kind of man to just let her walk away but she couldn't deal with him right now. She needed to think; her thoughts were muddled by anger and she strode into the kitchen. Crookshanks was curled upon one of the chairs surrounding the table, his great orange head lifting as Hermione flicked on the lights with her wand, yawning loudly in protest.

She set to making herself a cup of tea, hoping the activity would give her mind something to focus on. Once she had her kettle boiling, she turned to her table, the sight of stacks of paper and two empty coffee cups greeting her. Too wound up to sleep, she approached the table, gripping the back of a chair and leaning forward to gaze at the bright red envelope resting atop the mess.

The spot where she'd bled on the paper was dark and splotching. Hermione was stubborn but she wasn't stupid; Malfoy had a point. After the picture, she could no longer deny that the killer had his sights on her. Whether he intended to turn her into a victim or had other plans for her… she was in danger.

But that didn't mean that she was going to hide; she was going to find the son of a bitch. She pulled Malfoy's notes from the morning towards her and began to read. The letters on the bodies had continued to pull at her, flashing in her mind. She knew they meant something, that they were instrumental in the case. A E G. She knew that the killer wasn't finished and intended to add more letters to the puzzle and more victims to his roster.

She was not going to let that happen.

There was a tap upon her kitchen window and she jumped so violently that the stack of papers balanced at the edge of the table tumbled to the ground. A sleek black owl sat perched upon her windowsill, a crisp white letter clutched in its beak. Hermione opened the window and the creature eased inside, letting Hermione take the letter, her name scrawled in sharp, slanted cursive across the back. She would recognize the penmanship anywhere; she dropped Malfoy's letter on the counter and searched for an owl treat.

Once Malfoy's bird was fed and on its flight home, she took a seat at the table and opened the letter.

Granger,

Take down your wards. I don't care that you're upset I do care Granger, forget that last bit. That's why I want you to take a step back from the case. I'm going bloody mad worrying about your safety. He was at your house, Granger. Watching us. You're the smartest witch I've ever met- take this seriously. Please. If not for your safety, for my sanity.

Open your floo.

Malfoy.

Hermione stared for a long time at the letter, reading the line I do care, Granger over and over. Her annoyance- and resolve- were melting away by the second. She could handle herself but she rather liked that someone was worried about her for once.

She tapped her fingers against the table once and one look at the red envelope on her table had her standing and heading towards her fireplace.

...

The fourth body was missing its eyes. Two holes gaped up at Hermione as she tried to push away her instinct to gag as she leaned closer. This body had a sharp R slashed all over the girl's exposed arms. Hermione could see blood seeping from beneath her shirt where the same marks covered her stomach.

"First the symbols now the eyes?" Harry shook his head in disbelief, "can it get any worse?"

Hermione and Malfoy shared a look. They'd decided to keep the photograph just between them for now. Hermione knew that if Harry (or Ron) found out, they'd demand all of the details and might even fight to have the letter put into evidence. Draco was adamant that that would not be happening. Hermione had been relieved.

"Have the pair of you got any leads yet?" Harry turned to Hermione, eyes dark with stress.

"We're working on it, Potter."

Harry nodded absentmindedly, staring blankly down at the body. "Four in a manner of weeks," he muttered, "and we have no leads."

"Actually Potter," Malfoy drawled, "I was going to ask you if we could consult with someone on the case."

Hermione's head snapped up. He hadn't mentioned this to her.

"Who?"

Malfoy's face was grim.

….

Lucius Malfoy looked dreadful.

His thinning gray hair hung around his gaunt face. He was filthy, clothes hanging off his thin frame, all signs of the regal, arrogant man gone. He stared harshly at his son, who ignored him, pulling a roll of parchment towards himself. Hermione sat ramrod straight in her seat, the tension in the air making her nervous.

"So," the elder Malfoy finally rasped, "this is what it takes for my son to visit me?"

"I'm not here to visit you," Malfoy said coldly, "I'm here to discuss something with you."

He waved his wand, summoning the crime scene photos, pushing them towards his father. Lucius eyed his son for a moment more before leaning forward. He stared at them for a long moment. "What is it you want?" he hissed.

"We wanted to get your opinion," Hermione answered when Malfoy stayed silent at her side. "Four muggle born women have been murdered. We want to know if you know of anyone that would be capable of this."

"Miss Granger," Lucius drawled, "I should've expected you. You always seem to be at the center of… unfortunate circumstances, if I recall?" His gray eyes fell to her arm in a mocking stare.

The scar on Hermione's arm seemed to burn. She straightened her shoulders, "I have no interest in bantering with you Lucius," the corner of Malfoy's lips tilted up in the slightest hint of a smile, "if you wish to talk to your son, then cooperate and he might consider it," Malfoy's smile fell, "but I need to know if you know of anyone that would commit these crimes."

Lucius Malfoy leaned back in his chair, eyebrow raising. He brought his cuffed, chained wrists and dropped them onto the table, the iron clanging noisily. "My son could've answered this question for you," he said, "he was involved very heavily in the Dark Lord's plans for sometime."

Malfoy's face turned dark. "Do you have anything useful to say, Father?" his face had gone from cold to icy.

"They never found Lestrange, I assume?"

"Rodolphus Lestrange was killed during capture," Hermione said. There had been dispute about the death of Lestrange; some had even insinuated the death had been faked by a young auror in an attempt to gain recognition. The claims were never looked into, though even Hermione had been suspicious.

"Someone may be copying his methods," Lucius's lips pulled into a sinister grin, "Rodolphus had a strong… interest in young muggleborn women. Such as yourself, Miss Granger. I do believe he was your biggest fan."

"That's enough," Malfoy snapped.

Lucius's eyes lit with curiosity. "Defending her son? I thought I taught you better than that." He eyed Hermione, "unless you're taking after Rodolphus and find the mudblood pretty?"

"Use that word again, and I'll make sure that you never leave your cell again," Malfoy's eyes were dark, "no visitors, no company except for the dementors floating past your bars."

"You've been fucking her, haven't you?" Lucius's eyes went mad with suspicion. "After all I taught you? You're a fool boy! If you taint the Malfoy line-"

"Draco," Hermione turned to Malfoy. His hand was clutching his wand and a red spark had flown from the tip. "I want you to leave."

"What?"

She reached for his parchment, "I want to speak to your father alone. Please. He's not going to cooperate so long as you're here-"

"If you think I'm going to answer any of your questions-"

"You better know what you're doing," Malfoy cut his father off, giving Hermione a meaningful look before turning to his father. "You discuss only the case," he snapped, "if I find out you hurled so much as one insult at her-"

"It's alright," she urged him towards the door, "I'll be fine."

Malfoy shot one more hateful look at his father before storming out. Hermione turned to face the elder Malfoy, taking the forgotten quill. The room was chilly, the dementors hovering outside the door making the room dark and foreboding. "Lucius," she began, "I don't care to chat with you, I don't. So we're going to talk about this case, or I'm going to leave, and I'm taking your son with me. There will be no more racial slurs, insults, or childish remarks. Am I understood."

"It's a wonder you never became a professor," he smirked, "you would've struck terror into the students."

"I want you to tell me about Lestrange," she said.

Malfoy sucked his cheeks in, looking amused, a bit of his chain sliding off of the table and clattering. "You said he was dead, Miss Granger."

"Just answer my question," she rose an eyebrow.

He smirked at her, reminding her of his son. "Rodolphus liked puzzles; they distracted him from the relationship between his wife and the Dark Lord. Those symbols on the bodies," he tapped a slim finger upon one of the photographs, "these are meant to be letters, yes?"

"We are assuming that, yes."

"This seems like something Rodolphus would do," Malfoy lounged back in his chair, "but since he's dead…I would consider those who were close to him while he was still alive."

Hermione stared down at the name she'd written on the parchment, frowning. She looked up to find him watching her. "Thank you for your help, Mr Malfoy," she moved to stand, gathering her things.

"I can see why he's taken with you," Malfoy surprised her by saying.

"I'm sorry?"

"My son," Lucius's face looked as if he'd just eaten a lemon.

Hermione didn't know what to say, so she turned to leave once more. "I would be careful, Miss Granger. Rodolphus was quite taken with you while alive, and should someone be copying his tactics, he might come after you."

Hermione's lips pressed into a grim line. She nodded and left the room.