Sherlock Holmes and his companion, John Watson, had arrived at the hotel Hermione had instructed them to that early morning with nothing more than a suitcase to accommodate them both. Or should they say, John came well prepared and Sherlock just stuffed a few articles of clothing into John's suitcase without him knowing...insisting that his intelligence would far overcompensate his lack of clothes. He had to have sat in the same spot for 2 hours, just searching and re-reading previous articles he saved from weeks ago.
"John." He absentmindedly called; the reflection of the bright screen and plethora of letters shinning against his steel blue eyes.
John perked his head from the table as he was eating a breakfast of toast and his usual cup of coffee. "Yes?"
"Have you seen my notebook?"
He sighed, turning his head to glance over at him and scoffed as the notebook laid to a table on his left. "Sherlock. It's right there." He pointed.
"Bring it to me, would you?" Sherlock's eyes never left the laptop while he spoke. Statuesque and stone like, he sat with an outstretched arm and an open palm, ready to receive.
"It's two feet away from you!" John snapped.
Holmes didn't even look at him but held his palm open for a few more lingering seconds. A groan followed along with a chair scraping and the sound of something hard smacking against the inside of his hand, "Thank you."
There was a sudden knock on the door, before a key turned and Hermione made an appearance. She squeezed through a crack of the door, immediately shutting it and locking it behind her. She turned, looking around, her eyes falling on the two men staring at her curiously. "Sorry." She grumbled. "Can't be too careful. Nobody saw you coming up here, did they?" Her eyes fell on the laptop. "I mean, were they suspicious?"
"The concierge was too involved in her phone. The bellhop was going through other visitors luggage and John and I have been up here since 7 a.m. and there was a late sunrise."
"What he means to say, is no." John chuckled, getting to his feet and walking over to Hermione with a smile on his face. "Would you like a little breakfast? Sherlock isn't in the mood to eat this morning."
The sound of papers flipping and keyboard keys clacking sang from his corner of the room. "I told you I wasn't hungry, John."
Hermione smiled at him. "No, thank you. I ate with Ronald before I came." She pulled her bag off her shoulder, putting it on the table and looking back up at John to see a confused expression. "Ron. My... boyfriend." She said before starting to pull papers from her bag.
"Either your boyfriend is late, or I take it he won't be joining us this morning." Sherlock sighed, shutting the laptop closed and slipping it back into its case.
Hermione raised her eyebrows at his comment, mouth falling open slightly. "If it's Malfoy you're referring to, I can assure you he's not my boyfriend. Secondly, I'm happy he's late. You're not from this world. So you don't know... It's important I tell you about his past."
"His past?" Sherlock and John exchanged glances with one another but listened with curiosity to what Hermione had to say.
She nodded. "He was a death eater." She flipped through her papers, pulling out the mug shot of Draco that was filed with every other death eater, and handed it to them. "The man who tried to destroy our world had followers. Called Death Eaters. They got a dark mark to show their locality. A tattoo. On their left forearm." She pointed down to her arm. "He claims he was forced into it by his father." She flipped through some more papers, pulling out a mug shot of Lucius. "Who was also a death eater. While I know Draco isn't pure evil, like his father, he's still cruel. He mocked and made fun of me for years."
John glanced at the pictures briefly, and then handed them off to Sherlock who gazed over the black and white photographs that seemed to jump off the pages they were printed on. "If you don't mind me saying so, Ms. Granger but it doesn't seem like 'mocked' is the correct term I would use here."
"We were kids. He didn't like me because he's a pureblood and I'm a muggleborn. Basically... he was born into a family that has had wizarding blood for centuries. Where as me, I came from non-magic. He despised me for that reason. Still does. Also..." She couldn't help but smile slightly. "I'm smarter then him. Which he can't stand seeing as where I came from."
"Sounds a lot like you and Mycroft, Holmes."
"No. It most certainly is not. Unlike Mycroft, I actually know what I'm doing."
Hermione cleared her throat, interrupting them. She needed to get this out before Draco showed up. "I'm telling you this because the person were looking for is more then likely going to be a death eater."
"Are you sure of that, Ms. Granger? Because if that were so," He began, quickly running to his table and snatching one of the many headlines scurried around, and pointed to a picture of a thick fog with what looked like a skull just barely visible by the naked eye against the dark. "Answer me this. Why would the killer, never leave a trace behind? If he truly were a death eater as you call it, shouldn't it be viable to leave a calling card as that 'mark' in the sky some people thought to have saw a fortnight ago."
"That mark in the sky isn't the killers trace. That mark was the mark death eaters and Voldemort used after they murdered someone." Hermione said as she finally pulled her cloak off, revealing her tight work dress, and bare shoulders that her curly hair didn't completely cover.
"My point exactly. If it were meant for those that had death eater background," He soon yanked another headline from the table. This time slowly bringing it up into the light with a light scowl on his face. "Then explain this recent murder." There was a man, completely comatose and dripping with blood with severed limbs just thrown around his already decaying body.
"Sherlock where did you-"
"Lastrade gave me a heads up this morning while you were still sleeping."
"But look, there's no dark mark symbol anywhere in the scene. Which leads me to believe, there may be someone else in on this."
Hermione held her hand out, taking it from him and examining it. She could feel a bit of tears coming to her eyes. The other people who had been murdered hadn't been killed like this. This was... torture. She quickly cleaned her throat. "This is... different. This isn't the same killer."
"Well of course it isn't, Granger."
That voice...That cold, stern voice suddenly came drifting up from behind them like a heavy fog, sucking them back into the real world. "And had you received my owl this morning, you would have been there to see with your own eyes."
It was Draco, pissed off as always with his black cloak slightly damp and dirty at the bottom. He had been outside and for quite a while, judging by the way the water had already climbed so far up his back. "There's more than one murderer. We found three sets of different footprints at the scene, along with the remnants of what smelled like goblin piss. And you and I both know what that means, Granger."
Hermione didn't even bother turning to face him, instead just let out a deep sigh. She was still pissed at him to say the least. Her wrist hurt from the night before where he grabbed her. She was dealing with it though. She would ignore him, but wouldn't act like it bothered her either. "We have a lot of work to do." She said still facing Sherlock. "How do you normally start your cases? Perhaps we can combine our ways."
He nodded, "Hands on approach is usually best. Visit the scene and get as much information as you can before the scene is disturbed."
"Granger, are you listening to me?"
She continued to ignore the Slytherin behind her. "We should get moving then. We can apparate if you're up for the challenge." She was starting to pack her stuff up into her bag again.
"Just let John and I pack a few things and we'll head out with you." Sherlock threw Hermione a smile before heading towards the back of the room with John, and grabbing their coats.
"Granger," He sighed with annoyance. "Can you just bloody turn around for a second?"
She didn't listen to him, instead grabbed her cloak, throwing it over her shoulder. "No, Malfoy. I will not."
And just when Hermione thought she would never hear those words escape from Malfoy's mouth, she heard it, clear as day. "Please?" He almost sounded like he was begging by how low his voice had dropped.
Her coat was halfway on her arm when she heard it, and it made her freeze. Slowly, she turned around and faced him, cloak still hanging halfway off her bare shoulder. "Wh-What did you just say?" She was practically whispering. She had to have heard her wrong.
"Don't make me say it again." Draco opened the door and nodded in the direction of the hallway, begging her to follow him with his eyes.
She sighed, finally putting her cloak on fully, and pulling her messenger bag over her shoulder. What could she say? He was being... nice. When they were out in the hallway, Hermione stuffed her hands in her pockets, staring at the ground.
How was he supposed to start this? It wasn't just something he could spring on her like a an early birthday present. And it only made him soften up after having this happen to him in the past. The trauma behind it...let's just say he knew what this would feel like. "Look. Before we get to the crime scene, there's something that I feel you should know."
Hermione stopped messing around in her bag, and looked up at him, curiousity in her eyes. "What? What happened?"
"This morning when I got the owl and you were no where to be found-" He started off hard, his voice scraping against the bowels of his throat in a deep, cold manner, staring down to another part of the wall adjacent to her but soon sighed when he realized how innocent and worried she seemed to be... 'Get a hold of yourself, Draco. She's not innocent looking, worried yes, but don't fall to pieces in front of her; you stupid wank.' He thought, clearing his throat and glancing down at his cuffs, straightening them out while speaking to her. "After the owl arrived, I headed out to an abandoned flat just south of here and-"
"Spit it out, Malfoy." Hermione snapped. "So we can get onto this case."
"You can't head out onto this case." He nearly shouted out of desperation, immediately staring out into the halls to see if anyone around had heard them.
Hermione blinked a couple times, staring up at him, perplexed. "What... What is wrong with you?"
"Just go home, Granger."
"No. I'm going to the scene of the crime. You're not pushing me away and hogging it all to yourself." She pushed past him, fixing her bag over her shoulder.
Once again, faster than she could stop him, Draco had gotten a hold of her wrist, spinning her back towards him and nearly crashing them both into the walls behind them. "Granger, listen to me." He stared into her deep brown eyes with a submerged pang of, dare she say, fear. "Just go home to Weaslebee and stay there or work in your office until this case has been resolved."
She yanked her wrist from his grip. "I will not go home. This is my case too, Malfoy! Tell me what's wrong!"
"Granger." He warned through gritted teeth. "I am your superior and I order you to go home."
She rolled her eyes, scoffing. "Yeah, Malfoy. I'm really threatened." She shook her head at him before turning her back again and walking down the hallway.
"Granger!" He exclaimed, Digging into the depths of his cloak, Draco swiftly pulled out his wand, shooting a spell and setting up a tall barrier in front of her, to cease her departure. "This isn't a joke! I gave you an order and I expect you to follow it! Now come. Here. Now!"
She slowly turned to face him. "You will not control me like some... house elf, Draco Malfoy! I am a human being and I'm trying to do my job!"
"And I'm trying to keep you alive!" He retorted.
"I don't need you to protect me! I can protect myself!"
"For Merlin's sake, what is wrong with you? I'm trying to help you!"
She was walking towards him now, almost stomping from anger. "I don't need you, or Harry, or my parents, or Ronald to tell me what to do! I don't need you to protect me, and tell me that my job is too dangerous! And I don't need you to boss me around like you're the boss of me, when you're not!" She gave him a shove. It was obvious she wasn't really talking about Draco, but venting from something else that had happened that very morning with Ron after another one of their long arguments about how her job was too 'dangerous'.
"First of all, I'm not Potter or Weasley. I am your boss. And second of all-"
"Screw you!" She yelled. "You are not my boss!" She yanked her wand from her cloak and trend as quick as possible, getting rid of the barrier and moving past it. He was crazy if he thought that he was going to stop her from doing her job.
Apparently, his 'professional' approach wasn't working the way he thought it would and decided, despite every fiber in his being telling him no, and that he looked absolutely ridiculous anyways, "Hermione." Draco called upon a more 'gentle form', hoping his mother's character would be enough. "Wait."
She didn't listen, and instead continued down the hall, now feet from the stairs.
Draco ran his fingers into the platinum locks of his hair, letting out a small groan and quickly following in pursuit. He couldn't just leave her, not after the intel he had discovered and the fact that having her blood on his hands wouldn't look very good on his record, decided he would keep her in his sights, even if she was cross with him.
She continued to walk away from him, throwing her bag over her shoulder as it fell off as she practically ran down the stairs. In about two minutes she would be in the alley and able to apparate to the scene of the crime, completely forgetting about the fact that she was supposed to meet Sherlock and John. And she probably would have too, had Draco not managed to grab her shoulder moments after she had gotten outside, apparating them both a block away from a crowd of nosy spectators all huddled behind rows of yellow barrier tape and police pushing some away who were taking pictures and escorting those who managed to sneak past security.
"Why are you so stubborn, Granger?" He panted, the wind knocked out of him from sudden apparition and now dizzy because of it.
When she realized what had happened, she turned and faced him angrily. "Why can't you leave me alone, Malfoy?!"
"Why can't you listen to reason?" He bent over slightly, gripping his chest and leaning against a wall.
"There is no reasoning here. I'm doing my job!" She pushed past him again, making her way towards the crime scene she could see out on the main road.
"This woman is going to kill me." He hitched a laugh in his throat, moving into the crowd of people until she was right beside him.
Hermione made her way through the crowd, bending down over the yellow tape and coming to a complete halt at the bloody mess she saw before her. She immediately felt her breakfast come up into her throat. The smell was worse than the actual corpse: the recent rain that had washed the blood deep into the cracks of the cement covered roads. Metallic bursts of iron from the blood hit their noses hard, causing Draco to bring his sleeve up to his nose, and filter some of the rancid flesh away.
Hermione was holding her breath, trying her hardest not to breathe in the putrid smell. When she couldn't take staring at the scene anymore, her eyes fell onto her own feet. "Who would do this?" She mumbled.
"That's what we're being paid to find out isn't it?" Draco said idly, keeping an eye of their surroundings and the people giving them odd stares rather than the actual crime scene. He had gotten all the information he needed this morning.
"I don't know... are we?" She glanced up at him. "According to you, I should just go home and not come back till the murderer is caught."
"You should be at home, you're only here because your stubborn Gryffindor ass won't listen to me."
"I was given this mission too. Just because you think I can't handle a little bit of blood-"
He could only scoff at her own stupidity, "Yes, because the battle of Hogwarts had no bloodshed whatsoever."
She rolled her eyes at him, taking a couple more steps further, ignoring the blood and smell to examine the scene. "Have you discovered the victims names yet?"
"Yes."
"And they are?" She pulled out her notebook and pen, preparing herself.
"Already been reported to the ministry." He answered quickly.
She sighed. He would never learn. "And they are?" She repeated again, her tone more strict.
"As I said," He turned to glare at her, like an annoyed teacher to an over enthusiastic student. "They've already been reported. There's no need for you to continue asking."
She glared back at him. "Why won't you tell me? I just want it in my notes."
"You really want to know why?"
"Yes, Malfoy, as a matter of fact, I do."
"Then follow me." He ordered, stepping away from the crowd and to a small flat that no one was really paying attention to.
She let out a deep sigh, but followed anyway. She did need to know for her notes. "You could have told me out there, you know."
Draco's dead set scowl met Hermione, giving her another annoyed stare before waving his wand under the safety of his cloak, "Alohamora." He whispered, and the door opened, allowing them passage inside as he held the door open for her. She stared at him, then the empty dark room, not moving. Did she really trust him? What if he was leading her into a trap. With a nervous lick of her lips, she made her way inside, her defenses heightened. "It's up here." Draco gestured up the stairwell, leading them, all the while each step bringing a slow and long creak of it's worn down frame.
"What is?" Hermione asked, not moving.
"If you want to keep working on this case, you'll stop asking questions."
Hermione looked around nervously, biting her lips together before letting out a sigh and walking up the stairs after Draco. Where was her Gryffindor bravery? Draco stood at the edge of the stairwell, waiting for her and only after she reached the final step, headed over to a closed door, hand in his holster to yank out his wand. Hermione stared at him curiously, doing the same as him and pulling out her own wand. "Malfoy... what are you doing?" She would be lying if she said she wasn't nervous.
He took in a deep breath as his hand reached for the door knob, steadily holding the apparatus from turning, and only speaking to her when he was facing the door."There's still time for you to go home, you know?"
"Its just..." She gave a defeated sigh, staring at the back of his head. She didn't want to admit this to him. "You're making me nervous, alright?"
"Look, do you want to go home or not? I'd rather you pick a choice before Holmes and his 'boyfriend' get here."
She sighed again, pointing to the door with her wand. "Just open the damn thing."
Malfoy opened the door slowly, allowing it to gently glide open and reveal the dark putrid odor that was seeping up from the walls like vines climbing and clinging in various directions. And Draco slipped inside, waving his wand and lifting the concealment charm revealing and all to menacing discovery...This time however, the blood red vines conveyed a message written as clear as day, 'I Know Who You Are And I'm Coming After You.'
He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of parchment, dog-eared and yellowing, offering them to her. "I found several of these scattered on the floor. All articles...of you."
Hermione reached for them, reading over them, her heart racing even faster against her chest. "I'm next... aren't I?" Her voice was so low she was practically whispering.
"Now do you see why I asked you to go home?"
Hermione's eyes slowly traveled up to Draco's, and she hoped he couldn't see the fear hidden in them. "I'm not going to go home and just wait for the killer to come and find me... I'm safer here, on the case."
"Don't lie to me, Granger." He pulled himself away from his statuesque broad toes and turned, cloak billowing briskly like an elegant robe behind him. "You and I both know, you're safe at home."
Her eyes slowly looked up at him. "I'm not going home... I refuse." Her voice was soft, yet serious. She knew what was at stake with staying with this case, but she couldn't just go home and... hide.
Never in his entire career of working for the ministry as the head of his department, a position his father had occupied back in his prime, had he seen Hermione in such an inner panic. He knew she would never admit to it, but it emanated from her eyes and slipped out of her voice. "Granger," He drawled, "You can't just-"
"I can do whatever I want, Malfoy!" She cut him off, voice suddenly loud. She knew her panic was showing even more now, but she couldn't help it. "Tell me who the suspects are."
What was he supposed to do? She was obviously in need of consoling, but...was he really the right person for this situation?
Oh this was going to be awkward.
Draco hesitantly reached out but quickly recoiled and pulled it off as scratching an itch on the back of his neck. "There were 20 hair and print samples found here. Too many for us to rule out on our own so I have the ministry looking into the list to see if anyone can be traced."
"Good." She gave him a curious look, pretending she hadn't noticed the way his hand reached out towards her but quickly retracted. What was he doing...? "We should go to the ministry then. Look at the samples. We can start interrogating people."
"What do we tell your buddies you just abandoned at the hotel?"
She groaned in frustration. "I forgot about them. They don't seem to like you much so I'll go get them and have them just stay out till we have the names of our suspects. I'll meet you back at the ministry."
"Not alone you're not." He proclaimed, stepping forward and blocking her way to show how serious he was being. "And don't start. You know I'm right about this."
"Why are you being so protective of me? You don't care about me. We hate each other. Three years ago you would have loved watching me die."
"I'm not protecting you." Draco snapped, rolling his eyes at her. "Don't flatter yourself Granger." He cleared the area for the second time that day with a flick of his wand, to which he tucked back into his coat when he was finished. "I'm just doing my job." He mumbled.
"Good." She pushed past him, heading for the door. "Then I'll meet you at the ministry."
"Won't you just admit for once that you need my help?" He exasperated, right at her heels.
"Not till you admit you're being protective of me." She said casually, not even bothering to turn and face him.
"I'm not protecting you for the sake of protecting you." He forced himself upon her, yanking her back. He refused to be ignored, especially by some egotistical hardheaded, frizzy filled Mudblood. "I'm following you because I don't want to become a suspect if your ass goes missing."
She sighed. "Malfoy nobody is going to suspect you."
"Like you would know anything about being judged."
She glared back at him. "Did you seriously just say that? You think I don't know what it's like to be judged. You judged me more than any other person in existence. Called me mudblood more times than I can count, picked on me and my friends for the dumbest reasons, made fun of me and my... teeth and my bushy hair!" She scoffed. "You're an ass, Malfoy."
"And you and Potter nearly had me killed in our sixth year! And don't forget what happened in my manor! You know you three would be dead if it wasn't for me."
"Because of you!?" She took a step towards him, her face now standing inches from his chest. "You didn't do anything! Dobby saved us, and in the end he was murdered because of it. You did nothing but stand there and watch your aunt torture me!" She dropped her cloak to the ground, showing the scars she had from that night. "Bring back memories, Draco." She practically spat his first name.
"Yeah?!" He ripped his cloak behind him, glaring at Hermione as he pulled his sleeve up revealing his dark mark that had been a dark reminder of his past. "You have the audacity to scream at me for doing what I had to in order to survive?" The snake was still slithering darkly against his pale skin while he squeezed his fist out of anger. "You weren't the only one who has skeletons in their closet, Granger."
"You think I don't that? You think I don't know you only did what you had to do in order to survive? Harry said it himself; you never would have killed Dumbledore. It's the same reason nobody would believe that you could kill me. You're not capable of murder."
"You and Potter weren't thinking that when you two were stalking me for an entire school year. And for the record, you don't know what I'm capable of Granger."
"Yes I do. I know you more than you think I do. And just so you're aware for the future, Harry was the only one stalking you. He kept telling me you were a death eater... I didn't believe him."
He stared at her, not sure whether to believe her or not but ran deep in thought about the possibility that she actually did believe in his innocence. After a few more moments in silence and tension falling, Draco blinked twice, and shielded his dark mark under the safety of his clothing, soon clearing his throat. "That detective is wondering where you've gone. It would be in your best interest to go and make up some excuse as to why you suddenly left."
Hermione stared at him, wondering when they're loud argument had turned into her defending the things he had done in his past. Since when did she even stand up for Draco Malfoy? "Right. I'll meet you back at the ministry then."
"I'm not going to argue with you again, Granger." He replied calmly, grasping the clasp of his cloak and locking it back into place. "If you're going there, I'll at least wait for you downstairs or outside or that hotel, whether you like it or not."
She sighed. "Fine. Come. I don't care." She held her hand out for him to take. "But I'm apparating."
He glanced down at her open hand, raising an eyebrow. She may as well had offered him a vial of poison. He instead placed his hand on her shoulder, and drifted his gaze into some other part of the room. "Just apparate already."
She rolled her eyes. "You're so immature." She mumbled, before turning and sending them both into the hotel room of Holmes and Watson.
"Mate, don't you think you'd better slow it down with the drinks?"
"You and I both know I can handle a little alcohol, Blaise."
That very conversation had happened at the beginning of the party between one Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy after he was getting a little too friendly with the whiskey that continued to fill into his glass.
...He really should have listened. Maybe then he wouldn't be waking up with an pounding headache, completely naked in his bed next to the very person he despised, or so he thought.
"Fuck." Draco moaned, rubbing his forehead and running his fingers into his hair. "How the hell are you going to get out of this one, Draco?"
His mind excavated his fuzzy memory of the night before, trying to grasp the events leading up to this moment.
Hermione sat at her table by herself, staring down at her drink as she ran her finger tip over the rim of the glass. The table, at one point had been occupied by her fellow coworkers, but all had slowly gotten up and started socializing with the rest of the party. Hermione, however, wasn't in the mood. She had fought with Ron, again, before coming here, and had spent the whole night staring at Draco, watching him, instead of socializing. Not to mention, having more drinks than she could probably handle. She didn't know where her interest for the blonde Slytherin had come from, but she would catch herself making scenarios in her head where they would get into a heated argument that would end in them admitting something they didn't really want the other person to know, which would oddly only strengthen this weird... friendship they were developing. If you could call it that.
"Draco, you really should-"
"Blaise-" Draco chuckled at his best mate, clapping him on the back as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass and then taking a long sip from it. "You really don't need to worry about me. I can handle myself. Hell, I'm not even drunk yet."
Truthfully he didn't seem drunk: He was walking steadily. His speech hadn't been impeded and he was able to carry on decent conversation. If he was drunk, he was hiding it rather well from the rest of the world.
Hermione's eyes looked up just as she watched Draco take a sip of his drink from the other side of the room. Slowly, she got to her feet, chugging the rest of her drink in two gulps. Her red dress hung to her hips, falling down right below her collar bone, and as she took a step, she stumbled from the combination of her high black heels and the alcohol. She had the sudden urge to want to speak to her 'partner', but couldn't decide why. He was getting into her head. Ever since their argument the other day after discovering that she was the next victim, she felt the need to unlock more of his secrets. And she had been meaning to ask Draco if any new information had been brought forward in the last couple hours, and she was tired if sitting alone. So why not ask him now?
Malfoy glanced over at Hermione; her blood red dress sticking out front the sea of black suits surrounding her while she sat at her table..alone. 'Where were Potter and Weasel? Weren't they always trailing behind her like lost mutts?'
"Draco?"
"Huh?" Blaise had snapped him out of his stare with a gentle shake of his shoulder.
"Malfoy, are you even listening to me?" Blaise scoffed, blocking Draco's beeline view of Hermione and replacing it with a scowl.
"Yeah. Of course, mate." He nodded. Why was the room suddenly shaking softly?
"Mate, you alright?"
"Of course I'm alright Blaise." He sighed, "I just forgot some paperwork in my office that I needed to file." His head was starting to spin now. The alcohol was now slowly taking over his body and he needed to get out of sight before someone saw him. The last thing he needed was to be a headline in the prophet and be made a mockery of.
"Draco-"
"I'm going back to my office. If anyone asks, I just went home."
Hermione stopped walking when she saw him slowly leave the room. She blinked a couple times, fighting back the dizzy feeling as she started quickly walking after him.