It's getting darker out, and starting to get really cold. "I wasn't rude. I didn't Hex the freckles off her face, I think that's about as polite as I can get to a Weasley."
Potter rolls his eyes, grabs my arm and Apparates us to the Ministry.
As we're heading down the visitor's entrance, I start to think maybe I can solve this case without completely betraying my family. If we can find her accomplice, maybe he or she will warn Vanessa, and when she flees, we can be waiting for her. And no one will have to know that she's currently sitting in my spot at the dining table, probably being the daughter my mother always wanted.
After everything my parents have said and done about turning over a new leaf, how can they suddenly turn around and do this? I suppose a dragon can't change his scales. But frankly, in choosing to not betray their old pureblood friends, they've betrayed me.
"You alright?" Potter nudges me. "You've gone quiet."
"What do you care, Potter?" I snap, guilty and defensive.
"I do care." He says, awkwardly turning to me inside the cramped little lift. "I realise what happened with Ginny might have upset you a bit-"
I raise my eyebrows. "Upset me? You were the one that seemed upset. She seemed oblivious. Does she know you go around snogging everyone who comes within 3 feet of you?" I ask, sounding as sarcastic as I can, but actually quite happy to change the subject.
"Not 3 feet." Potter rolls his eyes. "One foot, minimum. And we're not together, so I can snog who I like."
"I know we're not." My voice comes out a notch higher than I intended.
Potter gives me a look. "Not us. Me and Ginny."
"I know that too." I snap, cheeks hot. Of course we're not. There's not even a 'we', let alone a negative 'we'. But he and the Weasley are obviously a thing, and he's just denying it. Because he thinks I care.
When the lift releases us, I move as far away from Potter as I can get while we're travelling in the same direction. "Where are the employee records kept?" I ask.
"Administration Services department." Potter says, back to business.
It's on the same floor as the Auror department, just off to the left behind a shabby wooden door. And it's less of a 'department' than it is just a giant labyrinth of files.
"Wow." Potter breathes as he walks in, and his eyes follow the stacks all the way up to the cathedral ceiling.
"We'll never find anything in here. There's no visible sorting system that I can see." I say, annoyed and dismayed. "Except for that."
I point to a sign that says, "please request all files in writing", and underneath it, an inbox that's stuffed full.
Potter stalks down a few aisles. "That's the Department of Magical Games and Sports, this one is the Wizengamot… Aha, here! Personnel."
I can't believe it. Potter's luck strikes again. "Seriously?" I say, and stomp up behind him. He's right. Literally the first place on the first shelf that he checked.
He has pulled a box down from an upper shelf and opened it. "Oh, this one's just the trainees. I'll grab Vanessa's while I'm here."
"There are more boxes up there." I point up, to a shelf above both our heads. They also have 'personnel' written on them.
"Accio personnel files!" Calls Potter absently, but then jumps back with a yelp and a loud buzzing sound, and drops his wand in shock.
I smirk. "There's an anti-Accio Charm on the files."
"Thanks, Detective Obvious." Potter says, rubbing his hands and picking up his wand, which is smouldering. The Charm sends a shock to the casting wand, instead of the item summoned.
"Come on then, give me a leg up." Potter says, as though he's about to clamber up the shelves.
"Absolutely not. I'm not going to be on the bottom." I envision us both collapsing, bringing the entire shelving system down on top of us.
"Fine then." Potter says, with a look on his face that I can't decipher. He clasps his hands together into a makeshift stirrup, and kneels down a little.
I put my foot into his hands, hands on his shoulders, and he steps up and hoists me, much quicker and much higher than I expected to go. I do my best not to topple, but I can't help the strangled scream that comes out of my mouth. I think my hands yank onto his hair for balance until they find the shelf.
"Hurry up, Malfoy." Grunts Potter, his voice muffled by my… by me.
Right. I get to grabbing the box. I pull it towards me, and see an identical one behind it. And behind that. "Potter, there's millions of files here."
"Wonderful." Comes Potter's sarcastic grunt. "Let's talk about that some more."
"I'm just saying…" I start, somewhat enjoying myself up here. But then I pull down as many as I can reach, which is only three, and drop them unceremoniously onto the floor.
Hopping off Potter's hands, I land gracefully and smooth my robes. Potter's hair is wild, and he attempts to flatten it, while shooting me a look. "You need to go on a diet."
I look down at myself, slightly stung. No I don't. I look alright, don't I? Am I starting to grow a tummy? Merlin, next thing you know my hairline will recede and I'll look exactly like Father.
Potter is already half way through the first box by the time I'm done worrying about my weight, and he has pulled out three files already.
I go through them, but don't see any names I recognise. "Who are all these people?"
"I'm pulling out everyone who has been through Auror training and who still works at the Ministry. That I know about. Donald Winkle got through training but ended up in Accounting. Jane Banks is the Assistant to the Head of Magical Law Enforcement."
"This is going to take forever." I say, the task seeming insurmountable. "Couldn't we just put in a request?"
"Everyone's gone home for the weekend, Malfoy. We can't wait until Monday."
"Why not?" I say, trying not to sound petulant. "Vanessa's already gone. The accomplice isn't going anywhere this weekend, as long as they think their cover is still safe."
"That's not how being an Auror works, Malfoy." Potter says, with a sigh. "You don't take the weekend off to relax. When you find a trail, you follow it until it's gone cold."
That doesn't make any sense to me, but I suppose I don't have a choice, so I just roll my eyes and get on with it.
"I really should have clocked back in." I snap, riffling through the files until I find a name I recognise. Ah, Yang Pan. Everyone knows her. She's five foot nothing, and rumour has it she broke Shacklebolt's nose during a practice duel in her training. I read through her application. She got about fifteen O's at Hogwarts in the mid 80's, and even Snape wrote her a letter of recommendation. She must have been Slytherin. Her parents were born in the UK, though, so I toss the file.
I pick up another one, and read about their various feats. The Auror who ran the Loyalty lesson was from India and studied at the Ballyhoo Institute of Bombay. No mention of Manhattan.
It takes us hours to get through the files. It's getting darker and darker, and every single Auror in the history of time had terrible penmanship. My back is really starting to hurt from hunching over like this on the floor. I imagine conjuring a comfortable, soft, leather chair. With lumbar support. Like the ones in the Slytherin common room - they were amazing. But Potter works tirelessly, with a determination on his face that I recognise all too well from Quidditch.
It's nearing midnight once the boxes are empty, and my patience is in pieces. I stand up and crack my back. "Well, that was completely pointless."
"No it wasn't. We've done enough research to close this avenue of investigation." Potter says, in his teacher-voice, but I can tell he doesn't like that answer either.
"So now what?"
"Now…" Potter says, with a hand through his hair. "We wait until Monday, and question all the Aurors."
Every molecule in my being wants to say, I told you so. But I don't. I don't know why I don't, maybe it's part of the whole New Leaf thing. Or maybe because I have nowhere to sleep if Potter kicks me out.
That thought makes me re-live the whole afternoon, and I just want to crawl into bed and block it out for a few weeks.
We troop back to the Atrium in silence, wordlessly agreeing to use the Floo so we don't have to go back out in the cold.
Back at Grimmauld Place, Granger and Weasley are fighting in the parlour, and we step right into it.
"- Can't say no, Ron, he needs you-"
"Hermione, this isn't a discussion right now, okay? I'm helping as much as I can, after work, on the weekends, why isn't that good enough for him?"
"You've been there! It's chaos! Christmas is coming up, he needs more hands on deck, Ron, and he's just asking you to think about it. Plus the money would be really amazing right-"
Weasley has turned around enough to see me, and purses his lips with a face like he's chewing on a wasp. "What's Malfoy doing here?"
"He needs a place to stay." Potter says, as though I'm some lost orphan. Weasley turns a shade of white I didn't know existed.
"Surely he's not staying here?" He says. "No way, Harry, absolutely not."
"He is right here." I snap, unable to handle such atrocious manners. "And if you'll excuse me, he needs to use the facilities."
"Second floor, end of the hall." Potter says, and I am relieved to escape from that whole mess. The yelling increases in volume as soon as I step out.
I spend extra-long in the bathroom, trying to think up a plan for tomorrow. Maybe I'll look for a place to live, but I have no idea where people live if they haven't either inherited a house, or bought one and hid it from Muggles a long time ago. And I can't afford to buy a house anyway.
Maybe I'll check the paper in the morning, they sell all sorts of useless stuff on the back few pages. I've always ignored them, but they might come in handy now.
So, with a plan, I splash my face with water to freshen myself up, tidy my hair, and wink at the mirror. "Oh, you." It giggles back.
Potter meets me on the staircase, his face like thunder. "Sorry about that, Malfoy. I'll show you your room."
I shrug and let him lead the way. He goes back to the second floor, and shows me a room 3 doors down.
"Don't tell me you decorated this for me, Potter?" I quip when we step in. It's pure Slytherin in here. From the green and silver stripes on the walls, to the bedspread, to the leather and snakeskin rolltop desk.
"No, everything's Permanent in here." Potter says, doing a feeble Scourgify that makes the bedspread flop weakly, and summoning clean pillows and towels. "But I thought you'd like it."
He lights the little fireplace, and says goodnight.
When the door closes, I flop back onto the bed like a lead weight, and fall asleep before I can even pull my shoes off.