Chapter 6
Hermione rushed into Harry's living room, brandishing a small notebook. "Harry! Ron! I found something!" She was practically bubbling with excitement, bouncing in place. "I went to Magda's place, and managed to have a look around. It was in her bedroom, under the mattress. I don't think anyone else thought to look there, since it was such a muggle place to hide it, and it wasn't warded, so it didn't set off any detection spells." She dropped onto the couch, and looked expectantly at the boys. She scowled at the blank looks she got in return.
Harry broke first, his impatience to rescue Draco giving him less tolerance for her unintentional superiority than usual. "Well, what is it?" His voice hovered somewhere between a plea and a snarl.
She blinked, then blushed. "I found her diary." She grabbed the notebook and flipped through it, pausing at the entry she was looking for. "Listen to this.
"I can hardly believe it. Draco Malfoy approached me today, and asked if he could call on me! Rather a quaint way of referring to it, but he's from an old pureblood family, so I suppose things like that will crop up every now and again. I'm so happy!
I was in Diagon Alley, minding my own business, when I saw him through the crowd. He was like a marble Adonis, brought to life and gifting us mere mortals with a glimpse of perfection as he glimmered in the sun…"
Harry held up a hand, interrupting. He was pale, and had a bizarre combination of expressions on his face. Hermione observed him closely, and decided it was a mixture of nausea, jealousy, and grudging agreement. She elected to ignore the latter. "What's wrong, Harry?" She marked her place with her finger.
"Can you just summarise? This sounds like one of those god awful romance novels, and quite frankly, it's turning my stomach."
Hermione nodded obligingly. "I haven't read it all yet, but from what I've skimmed so far, the imposter approached her, and initiated the affair. He chose the times for each of their, um, meetings, and controlled all communications. He told her he wanted to marry her, but that he didn't want his parents to know until afterwards because of their prejudices, so she wasn't to send him owls or any other correspondence." She paused thoughtfully. "I suspect that's why Malfoy – the real one – didn't get any strange letters from her." Snapping back to attention at Harry's impatient look, she continued. "Anyway. The point is that someone deliberately targeted her, probably because they knew of her obsession. I'd consider that conclusive proof of a deliberate plot against him, especially combined with the timing of the visits. So the next question is, who would benefit from him being in prison? What would they get from it?"
Ron stirred slightly. "Revenge for the war? Seems unlikely though. They would've had plenty of opportunity prior to this, and while taking advantage of the visits to Harry could just be opportunism, it seems too calculated for that. There was too much effort to coincide the visits but make sure Malfoy never found out." He frowned at the coffee table, rubbing his lips thoughtfully with his index finger. "Harry, is it possible that someone knew about the vow he made to you? If they timed the visits deliberately so he couldn't provide himself with an alibi…"
Harry nodded, eyes shining fervently as his brain ticked into overdrive. "A few people know. I know he told Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, and his parents. I think possibly the other Slytherins too, but I'm not sure about them. It's kind of been an open secret."
Hermione nodded, taking notes. "We should focus on his friends and parents first I think, since he's closest to them?" She glanced up at Harry for confirmation of her assumption. Continuing at his nod, she shifted to a more comfortable position. "Alright then. What do we know about Parkinson?"
Harry leaned back and closed his eyes. "She still clings to the blood purity nonsense. She has tea with Draco and Blaise every Tuesday and Friday afternoon - it's like a ritual for them since they graduated Hogwarts. She's active in the pure blood circles, but doesn't get closely involved in many projects. I know her family lost most of their money after the war, and she intends to marry rich to restore their fortunes. She was the bride that Draco's parents selected for him, but… Oh!" Harry sat up so quickly he got a little faint. "A few months ago she was after Draco to 'settle down and produce an heir' with her, despite him telling her bluntly when he came out that it wasn't going to happen. Apparently she thought that meant that he just needed to have some fun for a while and then he would come back to her. She seemed to drop it though, when he insisted he wouldn't leave me and marry her." Harry's smile was triumphant. "It's got to be her!"
"But if Malfoy's in prison, he wouldn't be able to marry her and have an heir anyway," Ron pointed out. "So why would she do something like that?"
Harry drooped, dejected. "I didn't think of that."
They sat in silence, mulling it over.
Hermione tapped her notebook again and cleared her throat. "Alright, what about Zabini?"
Harry grunted, mentally shifting gears. "He's Draco's best friend. I swear, the two of them gossip more than Parvati and Lavender ever used to!" He smiled fondly, thinking about some of the conversations Draco had recounted to him. "Financially well off, semi active socially but tends to stay neutral wherever possible. Doesn't hate Muggleborns, but doesn't particularly care about them either. He's the closest thing to a brother that Draco has. He's even been accepting of our relationship, or at least appeared so." He shook his head, worried. "I really hope he isn't involved in this. It would kill Draco to be betrayed by him."
"What about Malfoy's parents?" Hermione asked, not looking up as she scribbled notes.
Harry shrugged helplessly. "I can't tell you much. Draco doesn't really talk about them often. They had a huge row when he came out, and they've barely spoken since. I know that Narcissa is frustrated at Lucius's stubbornness. She strongly disapproves of Draco's public behaviour, but seemed pleased that he's calmed down a lot since he started seeing me. She's made noises a few times about meeting me." Harry paused, amused as he imagined how that conversation would go. "She would prefer he marry a pureblood princess and have lots of little snooty albino babies of course, but not at the expense of Draco's happiness.
"Lucius is a different story. He was furious with Draco for not marrying Pansy as he was told to, and threatened a few times to disinherit him. He won't go through with it of course, because there isn't anyone else he could claim as an heir until Draco has children. He barely speaks to Draco at all, except to remind him of his 'familial obligations'."
Hermione finished scribbling and looked over her notes. "Anyone else you can think of who might have a grudge? Any recent arguments with anyone? Ex boyfriends?"
Harry chewed his lip thoughtfully. "I don't know. I can't think of anything. His most recent ex was Michael Allens, but I don't think they've had any contact since before Draco found me. If they have, I don't know about it. I don't really know anything about him either."
"So who do you think is the most likely to want him imprisoned? It seems like Parkinson and Mr Malfoy would be most likely suspects, but I can't see how either of them would benefit." She huffed in frustration.
"I could ask Malfoy – Draco," Ron offered. "I know his trial is going to be in three days. I don't think we can afford to neglect his input." He flushed at the stunned looks he received. "Hey, it's clear that he's been set up, and let's face it, Harry's going to be intolerable if we don't rescue him. And if he makes Harry happy then I reckon I can try to get along with him. It's about time we ended that stupid blood feud anyway."
Hermione beamed and cooed. "That's very mature, Ron. I'm proud of you."
Harry grinned and rolled his eyes at Ron's blush. His friends were a wonderful couple, but sometimes they were so sugary it made him want to hurl.
He looked forward to returning the favour with Draco's help.
Draco kept his bored mask on until the monitoring spells were deactivated, then he nodded to Weasley. He knew his face was desperate, but he couldn't care right now. "How's Harry?"
Weasley smiled sympathetically, and Draco was relieved at the lack of mocking edge. He already felt like a fool, he didn't need Weasley to taunt him for it.
"Working himself ragged. He's barely slept since you were arrested, but Hermione and I are doing what we can to make sure he eats, at the very least." He struggled silently for a moment, then continued. "When you get out, do you think you could maybe play up your vulnerability or something? If he doesn't get a few days to recover before going back to work, I'm afraid he'll have another breakdown like he did when he first disappeared. I think he's already dreaming of whisking you off somewhere remote where he can 'keep you safe'. I heard him muttering in his sleep last night. Something about a moose."
Draco's eyes crinkled slightly with humour. "I can do that." He shifted and winced. "You don't happen to have a pain potion on you, do you?"
Weasley started slightly, and reached into his robe pockets.
"I've got more than that for you. Harry had Hermione brew you a few things." He pulled a handful of vials out, and frowned at them for a moment. "Pain potion, nutrient potion, blood replenisher – that one was just in case – a general healing potion, and a nerve protector." He handed them over in order, taking the empty vials back a moment later. "The last is a preventative the Aurors developed; it's not available outside the department. If someone hits you with more pain curses or any spells that affect your nerves, it won't stop the pain, but it'll make sure you don't take any permanent damage. It's effective even against the Crutiatus, so you should be alright on that count if they somehow get around setting off the wards."
Draco nodded gratefully. "Thank you. Both of you. I know we haven't had the best history, but I appreciate what you're doing for me, and when I get out of here I'd like the chance for a fresh beginning, if you're open to it. I know Harry wants us to get along, but I'd like it for our sakes too." He blinked, a little startled at his honesty. It was true, of course, but one didn't simply say it. He wondered drowsily if there was such a thing as Gryffindoritis, and if so, when he had caught it. He shook his head slightly.
Weasley smiled again – he seemed to do a lot of that – and ran his hand through his hair. "Sorry, that last potion will make you a bit stoned for a few minutes, but it passes quickly. I should have warned you. But yes, I think a fresh beginning would be an excellent idea." He offered his hand.
Draco reached out to shake it, and after three misses and a broken fingernail, succeeded. Weasley kindly kept his sniggers to a minimum. Draco made a mental note to remember that and buy him something nice as a thank you. Maybe a rubber duck like Harry had. Or a banjo!
The haze finally started clearing, and Draco determinedly resumed his usual dignity, ignoring his blush. "Did Harry send a message?" He told himself that he wasn't holding his breath for the answer, not matter how it might seem.
"Yeah. He said," here he paused and adopted an unflattering expression of concentration, staring over Draco's head. "'Wear your mask, and never doubt that I'm coming for you. When it's done, the masks, and gloves, come off. And then we're having a picnic.' I have no idea what that means, but I assume you do."
Draco grinned, then sniggered at Weasley's startled expression. "Oh yes, I know exactly what he means. It means he's going to put on a show, not just save the day."
Ron grinned back. "Oh good. It's about bloody time! And the bit about the picnic?"
Draco half lidded his eyes and smirked.
Ron flinched and turned green. "Please don't tell me. I don't want to know that sort of thing. Ever."
Draco chuckled and nodded. "We won't. Except when it would be funny. Then we will. With glee. And details." His smirk developed an evil edge, but he resisted the urge to rub his hands and cackle.
There was some things that a Malfoy simply didn't do in company.
Harry glanced at his reflection in the store window, trying to ignore his paranoia.
He was in Diagon Alley for the first time in four years, under a rather complicated glamour of Hermione's devising. He knew she wouldn't have sent him out with shoddy work, but he couldn't shake the terror that it would fade and he'd be mobbed, ruining their plan.
His now pale blue eyes scanned the crowds with deceptively casual sweeps as he sipped his milkshake. He was sitting in a café that gave him a good view of the entrance to Gringotts, his shaggy strawberry blonde hair rustling slightly in the breeze.
He soaked in the atmosphere, enjoying the feeling of the ambient magic permeating every stone and structure; listening to the low hum of wards, the squawks and barks and hoots of various familiars, and the bustling of everyday life.
It still felt like home.
Spotting his target exiting the bank, he casually aimed his wand under the table and tagged him with a tracking charm as he passed. He slowly finished his shake, then tossed some coins on the table as he stood and stretched, strolling in the direction the charm pulled him.
They'd discussed the plan at length when Ron had returned from seeing Draco.
He hadn't had any concrete information to offer, but agreed that his father and Parkinson were the most likely suspects to begin with. Draco'd been saddened by that, but wasn't going to let family loyalty blind him to the possibilities. He knew full well how ruthless both of them could be when going after something they wanted.
Lucius had been on at him about doing something to improve the family standing, and Pansy had been giving him significant looks that he had been studiously pretending he didn't see. He'd speculated that if one of them was involved, the other probably would be too. Pansy had become very close to his parents, and had in fact taken Lucius as a surrogate father figure after her own was killed in the war, seeking his advice on several projects.
Harry appeared with a soft crack, dumping the unconscious body of Lucius into a chair and binding him tightly.
He was panting, dirty, and trickling blood onto the floor from a wound on his thigh, but the adrenalin pumping through his system kept him moving. Despite being a man of leisure, Lucius was still a formidable dueller, and had put up a hell of a fight. He hadn't been one of Voldemort's Inner Circle for nothing.
Harry was grateful as never before for his constant training and fitness.
Their makeshift cell had been glamoured into dull grey stone, and Hermione had even made liberal use of cooling charms and humidity spells. The result was a dank prison with moisture dripping down the walls, the air chill enough to sting the lungs with each breath. To Harry's amusement she had even set up auditory glamours, layering faint sounds until it seemed like the cell was located near the ocean. The hint of sea salt in the air was the final artistic touch. Even if they managed to break the anti-apparition wards that would be raised the moment Ron and Pansy arrived, they wouldn't have any real information on their location.
Harry hit Lucius with another stunner – just in case – and quickly removed all the items that Draco had told them his father never left the house without. Several portkeys, three emergency beacons, one poison ring, an enchanted dagger and two back up wands later, Harry left the room to prepare for the next part of their almost certainly overcomplicated and needlessly elaborate plan.