So, before you go
Was there something I could've said
To make your heart beat better
if only I'd have known you had a storm to weather
Was there something I could've said
To make it all stop hurting?
(before you go, lewis capaldi)

"Draco."

The voice called softly to him… She was there. She had to be.

"Draco."

The whisper caressed the air as it reached him. He looked around widely, trying to find the mass of brown curls, the deep brown eyes that he could get lost in…

She was there.

Wasn't she? But why would she be here?

She shouldn't be here.

It wasn't safe, she was in danger.

His body spasmed and a cry escaped past his lips as pain seared through his body. The soft whispers were pulled further away from him. He tried in earnest to keep the screams in, letting out only a brief strangled cry. His ears were assaulted with wicked cackling and dread settled into the pit of his stomach.

"Draco," his aunt crooned as he finally felt relief from the pain that reached his bones, "Draco, Draco…it pains me to do this. But you must be prepared. You must suffer…. Crucio!"

His head slammed back on the cold floor and his world went black.

February 2006

Snow crunched under dragonhide boots. The wind whipped viciously against a thick, wool clock that skimmed just the top of his boots. To say it was a cold day in February was an understatement. But when you're summoned to the northernmost part of Scotland, the weather is of the least concern.

Silver eyes quietly surveyed the scene in front of him. Occlusion was the only reason his face was void of emotion and his disgust at the massacre he faced wasn't visible.

Grisly or disgusting were probably a tame way to describe what the team was presented with. As he glanced around, he mused on the many different adjectives to describe what it was: disturbing, unhinged, grotesque.

The team of Aurors silently set a 50-foot Stasis bubble around the area to ensure no evidence was disturbed or blown away by the god-awful wind. The Medical team carefully catalogued the limbs that were scattered around. Forensic Aurors were photographing and bagging up the various entrails after being given approval by Medical. Based on the number of shredded organs, there were at least two victims this time.
In several pieces.

Again.

Internally, he groaned. Every time a victim was found, his aggravation seethed beneath the surface.

It was no surprise when several of the Aurors needed a break to compose themselves, attempting to not add their hastily eaten breakfasts to the evidence. With arms and legs strewn on opposite sides of the Stasis bubble; the Medical team had to split into groups to account for all the pieces. The torsos were haphazardly thrown in a pile along with hands and feet. Flies and worms already making them a meal.

There were no heads to be seen. There never were.

Identification wasn't going to be easy but at least there seemed to be more leftover than the last time.

Morbid. That's probably how she would describe it, he thought as footsteps stopped next to him.

"Heads, hearts, and livers missing again," the dark-haired man grumbled as he scribbled hastily into a notebook. "Both Muggles. Adrianna thinks she can get an ID on them easier this time since we have the hands."

"How are you planning to address this with the Muggle authorities? This is the third murder in less than two months and the fourth time that Muggles have been mauled."

The dark-haired man sighed and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. "Honestly, I'm not sure about that one. You would think that five years after his death his followers would give it up already. Especially after we've arrested most of them."

"Yes, Potter, but let's not forget that these are not the usual Death Eaters. Greyback may not have been Marked but he and his packs were fiercely loyal to the Dark Lord. Considering the increase in in attacks, I would say they're gearing up for something soon. I wouldn't be surprised if their numbers have grown exceptionally as well."

Harry Potter shook his head and turned to fully look up at the man next to him. The platinum-haired man had grown to be a full head taller than him, which irritated Potter more than he'd like to admit. (Harry imagined the look of horror at telling his younger self he would one day have to look up to Malfoy of all people...). Draco, on the other hand, enjoyed that the great Boy Who Survived had to "look up to him" though he was careful to not gloat about it.

At least not too often.

During the Malfoys' trials, Potter had learned all that the Malfoys had done for the Order during the war. He had expressed appreciation for their help, much to the disbelief of most of the Wizarding population. Draco's and Narcissa's statements of events had been given to Potter at Draco's request. There was so much hostility from the general population during the Malfoy trials. Potter had ensured that Draco and his mother were given protection as multiple threats had been made. Even after being cleared, Narcissa had volunteered to take Veritaserum and give a public testimony to ease the hostility. Potter had been adamant that it was unnecessary while Weasley had proclaimed that anyone who still had a problem with the Malfoys would face several angry redheads.

Draco still couldn't believe he had earned any type of friendship from the two, or their families. It was astounding and dizzying to be accepted by those he had previously looked down upon. He still felt shame for the actions his younger self had done—Potter and Weasley waved his apologies aside and proclaimed that the hatchet was buried.

"Neither of them are her at least," Potter said quietly. "We've been lucky every time it isn't her."

"One of these times, Potter...it's going to be her. I don't fancy finding her corpse."

"And you think I do? Fuck's sake, Malfoy, it's been-"

"I know," he snapped in a hiss, turning his head slightly, silver eyes narrowing. "I know how long it's been. You don't need to remind me."

"Malfoy, I've been hurting just as much as you have." Potter studied Draco for a moment before his gaze softened, "You don't have the carry that hurt alone either, ya know."

Draco withheld rolling his eyes before shaking his head. Though they were almost friends, he wasn't about to show any chumminess, especially not in the middle of a crime scene.

"Have Blaise finish cataloguing everything and deliver his notes when finished. I'm going back to the office. I'm sure you have everything in hand here."

Draco didn't bother waiting for a reply before he turned and strode out of the Stasis bubble, silently Apparating away. A perk of working alongside and gaining the trust of Harry Potter, Draco could Apparate directly into his office in the lower levels of the Ministry, avoiding the plebeians. He and his team had been relocated to the Department of Mysteries rather than be in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which became a blessing when trying to avoid the Gossips of the Ministry. Truthfully, it was because Draco's team primarily dealt with Dark incidents. Draco and his team wouldn't rouse any complaints about the privacy they were given.

Draco sighed as he sat behind his desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a short glass along with a bottle of whiskey. He relaxed in the high back chair and stared at the glass and bottle, contemplating.

Five years.

Five long years and he still hadn't found her.

How could she have just dropped off the face of the earth? A person didn't just disappear. At least she didn't. It was baffling how no one, absolutely no one, had any glimpse of her in five years. There had been some leads that led to nothing.

The last anyone had seen of Granger was at the Final Battle, though no one could remember seeing her afterward. It was as if she had simply vanished. The only timing everyone agreed to seeing her was when Voldemort had stood in the courtyard announcing Potter had died. Then while everything was a blur, she was gone. Draco had searched the castle endlessly that day, determined to find her somewhere. Potter and Weasley had puffed out their chests like the ridiculous peacocks Draco's father had preened, demanding to know why Draco was looking for their friend. After a brief fistfight ensued with Blaise and Theo pulling the three apart, the secret of their liaison was revealed.

Potter and Weasley swore that Draco had either gone barmy or had Imperiused Granger for her to do such a thing. They later took back their accusations, with some embarrassment at their behaviour.

Draco, with the help of Blaise and Theo, searched what felt like all of Britain for months after the trials. Seeing his determination, Potter and Weasley put aside their teenage grudge and joined the search.

While they swore repeatedly that Granger would never keep such a secret from them, the Dunderhead Duo eventually admitted that they felt like they didn't really know their best friend if she kept such a secret from them.

One drunken night, Potter begrudgingly admitted to Draco that Potter was jealous because Draco had spent three years being able to see Granger while he had been barred from any communication with her. Draco could barely hide his disgust at the sight of the Boy Wonder crying unrestrained in front of him. Previously he would've goaded Potter on about the moment. Draco decided that he would just ignore the devil on his shoulder and never mentioned it to Potter—who seemed grateful.

Eventually, Draco, Blaise and Theo joined Potter and Weasley for Auror training, despite Narcissa's numerous objections to his enrolment. Narcissa had tried everything to convince Draco to rethink his decision. She despised the idea of him going into any fray again, worrying as she did before that he may never come home. After many long discussions, she relented when he confided in her that he owed it to Granger and needed to find her. They rarely talked about Granger after that horrible night. For Draco to bring her up just months later, it struck a maternal nerve in Narcissa.

"Find her, Draco" she said softly as she held her son's hands, "We owe her so much..."

"I know, Mother. I know. I'm doing everything I ca-"

He was cut off as his mother buried her face in his chest and silently wept.

"I'm so sorry about your father and everything he did to you... Miss Granger was the light that we needed and we...we..."

Draco fiercely hugged his mother as she sobbed into his shoulder.

After that, Narcissa was a staunch supporter of her son and watched from the crowd proudly as he and his friends graduated from Auror training, right next to Potter and Weasley. If his sixteen-year-old self had been told that one day he would be semi-friends with Potter-and by proxy, Weasley- he would've scoffed and hexed whoever suggested such a ridiculous idea.

As it was, searching for Granger and Auror training had brought the three men together. Not best friends by any means, but he would classify it as friends nonetheless. Blaise and Theo showed a tolerance for the other two men but three snakes could only handle two lions for so long. And work hours were normally long enough for all of them. Though occasionally all could be found at the Burrow enjoying a delicious meal courtesy of Molly Weasley.
Draco continued to stare at the offending bottle and glass sitting on his desk. Temptation was within his grasp and he longed to drown his thoughts again. He knew better though. The last thing he needed was a repeat of the Incident.

He took a deep breath to steady himself before reading through the reports on his desk for the fifth time. His team had been given lead on the Mauling cases and the aggravation from it being unsolved was beginning to weigh on all of them.

For the last two years, a mauling would occur every few months. There was no consistency in locations, victim backgrounds, time between murders, or even cause of death. The only connection was the hearts, heads, and livers always missing. Bodies were dismembered, mutilated, and strewn across the area.

The only suspect was Fenrir Greyback.

The Werewolf had avoided capture after the Battle and in the years that followed. Sightings were reported across Europe but nothing leading to an arrest. Although the Werewolf had not publicly taken credit for the Maulings, Draco recognized his signature from his time at Malfoy Manor: the missing pieces.

During Voldemort's occupation of the Manor, Greyback was notorious for mutilating victims in one of the cellars. He would spend days torturing the poor souls, their screams muffled into a quiet whisper spreading through the Manor. Draco would lock himself in the library whenever Greyback had a new victim, determined to stay as far away as possible. The Werewolf would still be covered in blood and other…things…when everyone would convene for dinners in the dining hall. He would gloat to the others in attendance of his newest "experiment", as he called it. Bellatrix would crackle and spur him on, especially whenever a Mudblood was the subject. Draco swore that she would even join Greyback in the torture sometimes but that was just conjecture. Unfortunately, Draco had once been tasked with cleaning up after Greyback finished with one of his victims.

To say it was nauseating was an understatement of the misfortune tasked to him.

The cellar had been turned into a torture chamber. Chains hung along the walls, a bloodstained table equipped with cuffs toward one side of the room, another table with various crude and bloodied instruments tossed about. In one corner was a pile of…

Oh god…

Draco had turned away as he retched, the sight forever burned in his memory.

Could it even be called human anymore?

The poor Muggle had ended up a pile of…well, parts in the corner of the room. The man had been torn limb from limb; long strips of skin flayed; muscles pulled in strings from the bones; every organ had been removed, shredded, and tossed atop the pile.

Draco had noted the head seemed to be missing. He peered around the dim cellar, only seeing the pile of remains along with blood and other fluids smeared across the walls. He slowly started to look up and sighed, relieved that Greyback did not have an even worse sense of humour.

No heads dangled from the ceiling. At least today.

Bellatrix had confiscated Draco's wand before graciously bestowing him this task…instructing him that manually cleaning up would help to harden him as his parents allowed him to grow up soft. He would add this task to the long list of reasons why he hated his aunt. It had taken him several hours to properly dispose of the remains as he had to carry them to a remote part of the grounds to burn.

Draco was assigned to clean up a few more times and learned not only the head would be missing but also the heart and liver. He didn't know much about Werewolf appetites at the time but had later confirmed with Lupin via Granger that it was strictly a preference of Greyback's.

With each Mauling found, all three were always missing. The Medical teams spent hours putting every victim back together as best as they could but there was only so much even magic could do. By the third occurrence, they had alerted Potter and Draco of the disturbing detail that matched across all victims. Draco immediately named Greyback as the culprit.

But what was he playing at?

It was now years after the Final Battle.

Darkness had lost, most of Voldemort's supporters were locked up or deceased

What was the motive?

Out of the nine victims, only four of them had positive ID's. Five were unknown. The bodies were too mutilated to get any identifying marks or even fingerprints to try Muggle methods. There was hardly any evidence left at the crime scenes other than the victims. No one had reported any threats –it was as though they were randomly murdering and tossing the pieces.

Then there was the increase in attacks. Draco reviewed the timeline of the most recent murders again. It was averaging at least two months between victims being found. Now, it had shortened to less than a month with the number of victims at each scene having increased. Although, one scene had one and a half victims. The team assumed the remaining half of victim Six would never be found.

Draco let out a heavy breath, closing his tired eyes and running a hand through the front of his blonde hair. A few strands from the short ponytail fell loose. He wryly thought that maybe it was time to get a haircut. He pushed the thought aside, deeming it frivolous and unimportant.

Glancing over at the clock nestled on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, he estimated Blaise would be finished collecting all the necessary evidence from today's scene. It would be another few hours before Blaise and Theo finished reviewing everything and one would present a summary. He had been relieved when given the freedom to decide on his team members. He was thankful to not have to work awkwardly around others who were skittish because of his past–some being none too quiet about their discomfort. Although many people were still wary about Draco and his "reformation", they were even more wary of having three previous Dark wizards as an Auror team.

Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, like Draco, had been acquitted of all charges thanks to Potter and Weasley. They had not been secretly working with Granger for the entirety of the three years but had done enough in the background assisting the Order that the Wizengamot agreed to extend them the same verdict as Draco. It helped Potter and Weasley were extremely adamant all three wizards would be more beneficial to society outside of prison and suggested Auror training as a penance.

Much to the chagrin of the Wizengamot–and anyone else who had doubted the three young men–Blaise, Theo, and Draco had graduated and tied for top marks of their trainee group. Within a year, Draco had been promoted to lead Auror. After requesting his best friends as his team with final approval for the team having to come from the Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt happily signed off on the creation of "Emerald Squad" (as Weasley jokingly called them).

The three men worked seamlessly together.

They had achieved a top record for solved cases and eventually were exclusively given charge of cases involving any remaining Dark wizards or those of a Dark nature. This criterion was how they constantly found themselves pouring over notes and reports from the last two years of murders, aggravated at finding no solid leads and practically nothing to go on other than human remains.

Blaise's specialty being magical creatures but he couldn't conclusively say whether these were victims of only Werewolves. There were indicators for Werewolves on some remains, Hags on others. Blaise swore there was the bite mark of a Giant on a leg. But there was no consistency in any of them, and as far as they knew, none of these creatures tolerated each other. In fact, there were multiple incidents that showed, without influence, that the creatures would kill each other. Yet here was evidence that they were murdering together.

Which brought Draco back to his line of thinking: what was Greyback's plan?

Just as Draco had predicted, hours later Blaise stepped through his office door. His shorter black hair was disheveled, likely from pulling it in frustration. He had forgone donning his work robes, the sleeves of his white button-up haphazardly shoved up to his elbows. With a huff, he tossed the folder on Draco's desk before unceremoniously dropping himself into the chair across from Draco.

The Italian was beyond irritated and Draco decided making a crack about his hair starting to resemble Potter's would be a sure way to an early grave.

"Both are Muggles. Both are in the same state as we've found the others. You know, the usual. But here's the kicker: now we have bloody Vampires!" he growled and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

Without asking, Draco quickly poured his friend a glass of whiskey, holding it out for him. Secretly, Draco was glad to have the temptation of filling the glass for himself taken away. He raised a brow as he glanced through Blaise's report. "The torsos were drained of blood? You're sure it was Vampires?"

Blaise scoffed as he took a drink. "Of course it is. There was no blood left but Vampire saliva leaves behind minute traces in the blood vessels. It took four tries before the Med team could conclusively say there were traces of the saliva. But it was only the torsos. Everything else was still bleeding…" he took another drink, "Theo is still finishing checking everything for Curses and Charms. Med team says dismemberment was done via a Severing charm this time but Theo said there's something else there."

Draco hummed in acknowledgement and continued reading.

He trusted his team to be thorough in collecting details and evidence. If something was off, they were generally right. Theo flourished in examining Curses, Charm work, and Magical Maladies. Considering his father had forced him to be a test subject and participate in creating new Curses during the war, Theo's expertise was unmatched. Anyone who questioned his conclusions would be proven wrong. If Theo thought there was more at play than just a Severing charm, then their troubles were about to get worse.

Draco closed the folder and slid it to the side of his desk as he observed Blaise. The man was tired. He could see it in Blaise's eyes, how he didn't even crack an inappropriate joke about the newest murders. Since the increase in murders, they had been working overtime to try and find anything, just anything, that would lead them to stopping Greyback. But it was no use–somehow the bastard was elusive as ever.

"Blaise…" The tired man's eyes shifted to his boss at the sound of his name. "Let's call it a night, shall we? It's 3 am. Take the weekend to recover. You're no use if you're overworking yourself. Get Theo and tell him to head home as well. Everything will be here when we return on Monday."

Blaise opened his mouth to argue but stopped for a second. He closed his mouth and nodded before finishing his drink.

"Drake," he said softly. "I'm sure Potter has already said it but–"

"He did. I lost my temper for a brief moment with him." He propped his elbows on his desk and rested his chin on his folded hands. "It's almost another year gone and still nothing. Maybe she really is gone…"

"Don't say that. Brightest witch of our age, remember? I'm sure she's alright. Although I would love to know what she's been up to all this time."

Draco shook his head and scoffed. "Get in line, Zabini. We'd all like to know what the fuck has been going on. I know she kept secrets from me but hell, from Potter and Weasley too?" He rubbed his hands over his face and sunk back into his chair. "I've gone back through everything I can remember to see if I'm missing something. Anything that could give a clue to what happened. I can't find a damn thing. I can't help but think… and wonder if any of it was real."

Blaise gave a nod and a small, apologetic half-smile towards his friend. "I'm sure she's out there, thinking of you, mate. I saw you–that was real. Don't you dare think otherwise. What you two had…have…that's Endgame, mate. I'm sure she has a good reason for disappearing on us. I just hope it was on her own accord is all."

Draco closed his eyes and images of soft skin and brown eyes filled his thoughts, "Me too, Blaise, me too."

A shadow quickly darted across the moonlit snow, leaving no footprints. It stopped at the edge of a forest, a nose going up towards the air, whiskers twitching, as a scent was caught. It abruptly turned to the left and skittered along the edge of the tree line. Eyes a mix of amber and brown flicked around, searching.

Ahead was a hollowed-out tree trunk with the smallest opening. The shadow quickly darted inside, barely squeezing through the small hole, as thunderous footsteps crashed nearby. Howls and snarls came with the thunder. A nose and whiskers twitched in anticipation. The shadow pressed itself as far into the tree as it could, barely breathing.

The thunder stopped and, for a brief second, it seemed all was clear.

A howl pierced the air, right next to the tree. Shuffling sounds followed before a nose and teeth appeared at the entrance to its hiding place.

Time stood still.

The shadow held its breath until the nose gave a snort and vanished. The thunder moved further and further away. The shadow gave a long sigh of a breath and inched towards the entrance. Clouds parted above. Moonlight flickered along to the edge of the forest, illuminating all that was previously hidden.

As light trickled across the forest floor, the shadow slowly turned into a small red fox. The vulpine lay down just inside the hollow trunk, head resting between its black paws.

Its eyes flicked back and forth, noting every detail imaginable. Its ears twitched, alternating forward and back, straining to hear even a trace of those terrible howls again.

All was silent.

The fox could relax, if just for a short while.

It looked up at the full moon with a wistful stare. A tear slid from its eye and a shudder that sounded too similar to a sob escaped from its mouth. It slowly inched back into the hollow trunk, patting the dirt and dead leaves into a makeshift bed. The fox curled up as small as it could manage, burrowing its nose into its fluffy tail.

Memories danced across its mind. Memories that should be soothing.

Instead, there was pain, heart-wrenching pain.

There were two boys: one dark-haired, one fiery red. Laughter and teasing filled the air.

Another of crying and yelling–they had fought with each other. There were hugs, tears, and apologies.

Then another memory crept up…. of a tall boy with silver eyes and blond hair.

Finding the boy hiding in dark corridors and hidden passages as he held back tears.

Soothing words whispered as he was held closely.

The boy, now almost a man, stood in a garden outside a dark house. He turned and a grin spread across his face as his eyes lit up like the moon.

He was on the other side of the room as pain overtook everything. Searing pain coursed through every muscle, every bone, every nerve. Screams filled the air. A burning coursed through a limb as blood slowly trickled.

He silently cried, torn between choices. There was no blaming him—he had been told to do nothing.

Another shudder and tear escaped from the small fox. It burrowed further into itself, wanting to disappear from the world. It knew better though. There were still things that needed done, plans to be completed. A Werewolf to be stopped.

Tomorrow would be another day of trying to end this years-long battle.

The end was nowhere in sight though.