The MLE technician walked them under the yellow POLITIE crime scene tape, pointing to the MLE Interpol liaison for the Netherlands. Normally sat at a desk in his small office at the Hague Ministry, the man looked uncomfortably around as he cleaned his glasses over at the the British Aurors from where he stood mingling with other officials. Blood congealed on the tarmac of the Waalhaven district footpath where the body of the muggle-born witch had been discovered. With the London, Paris and Berlin murders, the victims had been found in their homes in the capital cities, close to the Ministry buildings. The Rotterdam murders were different.
The first body had been found in an alleyway near the World Port Centre 2 weeks ago while they had been working on the case in Berlin. The second had been found at 04:37 that morning by a wizard cycling on his way to the city centre. The blatant disregard for the International Statute of Secrecy unnerved Hermione who seemed more ill at ease than her partner on first appearance.
Like with the Berlin murder, these witches had been found with threatening letters tucked into their robes. Hermione motioned to the technician who had escorted them to the scene as she bent down beside the body. Malfoy walked over to speak with the liaison while she worked. The technician nodded his ascent and Hermione used her wand to move the robes to one side to look at the deep gashes that cleaved the poor witches alabaster skin open, crimson tinges to the crisp white shirt she wore. She could understand Malfoy's reluctance to examine the body this close up. She had witnessed the effect looking at the crime scene photos of the victims had on him as they went over every case file repeatedly, trying to make headway on their joint assignment.
It must be hard remaining objective when you have experiential context, she considered bitterly.
"It's almost like he wanted them to be found" she muttered, feeling a hand touch her shoulder. She looked up at Malfoy, who was looking down at the victim, eyes narrowed.
"I've got the files and copies of the letters they found. Quiet sinister really." he told her, turning away from the all too familiar effects of being hit with a Sectumsempra curse, the imagery of a corpse in a pool of blood next to a body of water a little too familiar.
Taking the hand he offered her, she stood and stretched to stave off the cramp building in her legs from crouching. He handed her the buff coloured file with its scarlet stamp: VERTROUWELIJK across the front. He watched as she scrutinised the letters. Metaphorical puzzle pieces were starting to come together in her mind and she bit her bottom lip in quiet contemplation. Whatever she was searching for clearly remained elusive as she pursed her lips and closed the file. They walked in silence toward the MLE apparition point, and headed back to their hotel.
Silently she took the stack of files out of her briefcase and began to lay out trace reports, crime scene photos and the letters across the floor of the seating area of her suite. Sensing her calculated cogitation, Malfoy went to the drinks cabinet above the mini bar and helped himself to a muggle whiskey. Not as good as Ogden's but it would do. Hermione was knelt on the floor and he tried to avoid the natural pull of his gaze as he stood behind her, watching her search for something.
Tentatively, she reached out her hand to touch her fingertips to one of the letters sent to the Berlin victim and as if grasping for a tangible link to a misty rumination, she pulled it towards her. She sat back on her heels and stared at the letter, the words coming into a new focus. He watched her grab the Black Notices and pull them hurriedly into a pile in her lap, her frenzied activity beginning to unsettle him.
Clutching the papers, she stood, faltering in her steps as she crashed down into the couch, spreading the papers on the coffee table. He could see her face and she looked ashen, tears welling in her eyes, their dam threatening to burst to pour forth unspoken trauma.
He drew close, concerned for the frantic witch in front of him, who looked grief stricken in a way he had not witnessed in anyone since the war.
Tears streaming down her face, she whispered.
"I know what he did"
A/N: I don't speak Dutch but google reliably informs me that VERTROUWELIJK is the Dutch for CONFIDENTIAL.