Chapter Two

Draco had felt fine when he woke up, energized even, after the realizations from the previous day. And so, he had decided not to brew a quick hangover potion, thinking that the endorphins and adrenaline of a new case were successfully winning their battle against several glasses of Firewhiskey. He realized just how wrong he was as the lift banged from floor to floor, the sound alone drilling painfully into his ears while the motion bounced his brain around in his skull.

He'd received an owl early this morning from Tonks, instructing him to go directly to her office when he got in–she wanted to hear an update on his case files. The russet brown creature had stirred Draco from his sleep by determinedly nipping at his ear, persisting despite his repeated attempts to shove the create off his bed. Perhaps he should have known then that the day was not going to unfold quite as expected.

When Malfoy arrived, Tonks was nowhere to be found, so he sat gratefully into one of the arm chairs across from her desk. The office was what a refined person might call eclectic. The walls were covered in posters and artwork to such an extent that Draco wasn't sure what color the walls were anymore. Every surface was covered haphazardly in paperwork or magical artifacts, with no apparently classification between dark objects and her daily tools.

He hated sitting in her office, with innumerable eyes following his every move. Some of them were cut outs from the Daily Prophet, headlines of dark wizards apprehended under Tonks' tenure as Head Auror, others were photos of family and friends, and more still were famous witches and wizards Tonks admired. All of their gazes weighed on him. He felt the dark wizards' disappointment that he was sitting in this office as an Auror rather than pursuing the cause alongside them, he felt the resentment of Tonks' loved ones (including a few pictures of Potter and Weasley whose sneers he was begrudgingly grateful to not often witness in person), and the weary understanding of the likes of Nicolas Flammel and worst of all, Dumbledore himself. After nearly six years of stepping into this office, he still couldn't find it in himself to meet the eyes of that wretched painting.

"Malfoy!" Greeted Tonks, swooshing in through the doorway behind him. He managed a curt nod in response, which did little to improve his blistering headache.

"How are you? Noticed you took off early yesterday, just wanted to check in and make sure everything is alright," she continued. Draco admired her ability to infuse her tone with what sounded like genuine concern.

"Everything's fine," he replied, "in fact, I already have a working theory."

Tonks arched a deep blue eyebrow, a stark contrast with her pale skin and lime green bob. "Just one theory? A man of your talents, I was rather hoping you'd been able to make quick progress on several of the cases by now."

Draco reigned in his scowl. Somehow, the compliments doled out by the Head Auror never quite felt like praise to him. "Actually, my theory is that the cases are all connected. I think there is a single witch or wizard behind all of them."

At this, Tonks' second eyebrow rose to meet her first. "What makes you think that?" She asked with innocent curiosity.

And so he explained. He told her about the subtle chaos sown by so many seemingly unrelated crimes. He described his theory that someone was threatening the efficiency of the Ministry, creating a strain on its resources while plotting something far more nefarious. He even went so far as to tie his theory to the string of arsons being investigated by Potter and the other Aurors, in hopes of attaching himself to a more high-profile case.

All the while frown lines were forming across her brow. She interrupted him only a couple of times to ask clarifying questions, but otherwise maintained an almost uncomfortable focus on what Draco was relaying to her. When he finished, she sat silently, her fingers steepled under her chin, gaze distant, for several minutes until Draco started shifting uncomfortably in the leather of the arm chair (thankfully the leather was soft and worn and did not make any offensive squeaking noises).

Finally, Tonks turned her focus back to Draco, her lilac eyes boring into his. "Alright, Malfoy," she said, "I'm not sure I'm convinced, but you have my curiosity. I think this is worth looking into."

Draco felt relief course through him.

"However," she continued, and he could feel his muscles preparing to tense up again, "I think we need you on the ground, in the Muggle world, to validate your hypothesis."

Internally, Draco cringed, but he didn't let any of his annoyance show. He had already considered this possibility, and while going undercover as Muggle wasn't high on his list of preferred activities, he would suffer it to solve the case. So instead, he nodded. "I was thinking much the same myself, actually."

Tonk's eyebrow rose again, matched with an expression that could only be described as amusedly skeptical. "Please don't take this the wrong way Malfoy," she started cautiously, "but you aren't exactly known for your ability to blend in with Muggles."

Draco frowned, but said nothing. He could hardly deny the fact, and he was too busy considering where Tonks might be going with this to prepare a defense.

"I think," Tonks continued with consideration, "it would be best if you had a partner on this case. There is someone in the Muggle Affairs department who might already be familiar with a few of the cases and could help with your preparation for an undercover operation."

"A partner?" Draco sputtered, doing a rather poor job of hiding his disdain. "But this is my case, Muggle Affairs passed it off to us!" He was vaguely aware that he sounded like a petulant child, but not quite aware enough to prevent it.

Rather than chastise him, Tonks looked more like she was trying to hold in a laugh. This only made Draco more incensed.

"Look, I know I'm the not the most…Muggle-y wizard, but nobody can fault my case record. If I need to act like a Muggle to solve the case, I will, and I do not need some soft-hearted dullard to babysit me."

The expression of amusement did not vanish from Tonks' face. "Those are my terms Malfoy. I'm not saying you couldn't do it on your own, but the fact is that if you're right, if there is a dark wizard behind all of this, then time is of the essence. This is the most efficient solution. You will need to learn a lot very quickly, and you will need support in the Muggle world as you uncover new information. Should a more elegant plan present itself, I will be more than happy to hear you out, but for now, consider this non-negotiable."

At this last part her expression finally shifted to a pointed stare, and Draco felt like she might be daring him to disagree. He, rather wisely he thought, kept his mouth shut.

"Good," said Tonks. "I will send a memo out right away. I expect they will be ready for you by lunchtime." She smiled, and again Draco thought it almost seemed genuine.

"Best of luck with the case, Malfoy," she continued, waving her hand gracefully at the door in what was her way of nicely telling him to get the fuck out of her office.

He rose, fists clenched, and resolved not to give her the satisfaction of sulking at his desk.

Draco had not dealt much with anyone from Muggle Affairs. Their natural inclinations toward a fascination with Muggle society did not create a proclivity to socializing with those who bore a Dark Mark–regardless of their current station. The attitude wasn't dissimilar from what Draco faced every day as an Auror, only it was tinged with a heavy dose of fear rather than blatant disrespect and superiority. The few times Draco had had the misfortune of visiting the Department of Muggle Affairs the witches and wizards he had spoken to had squeaked through whatever information they needed to share and sent Draco on his way, glad to see the back of him.

As such, he figured he would be quite capable of dissuading whatever poor sod had been assigned to this case that their participation was unwarranted, and their time better spent elsewhere.

As he reached the floor for Muggle Affairs, he couldn't help but notice how muggle it looked. Not that Draco had spent much time in the muggle world, but he'd certainly wandered around London and spent time in a pub or two. Usually with some beautiful muggle woman who had mistaken him for her prince charming. The hallway entrance to the bureau looked like a sad old advert for an old office building. One of the non-magical boards muggles had all over the city, only he had the sense that this one would have been peeling at the edges and washed out of color, and would therefore not bring in a desirable clientele. Soft green paint was peeling at the corners by the baseboards, whose wood had been stained so long ago the color now looked sanded off. Even the lights, arguably the most magical thing about the place, seemed ill at ease as they flickered and shone inconsistently warm and cool tones from sconce to sconce.

Puffing out his chest in what he hoped exuded an air of authority, he strode confidently down the hallway. The doors were marked with brass numbers, a slight green patina coloring their edges. He made his way towards office thirteen, doing his best to ignore the slight fragrance of mildew that wafted out of the open doorways he passed.

Draco knocked politely on the open doorway of his destination. The wizard who looked up seemed even less excited to be there than Draco did. The man was perhaps in his mid-forties with dark bags under his eyes and robes that might have once been black but had faded to a dusty gray. He had a mess of papers strewn across his desk, with folders of additional documents piled so haphazardly that a wayward breath might knock the lot over. Much of the rest of the office was crowded with all sorts of muggle paraphernalia, which looked as rundown as the man before him. Though Draco supposed the objects could have been pristine–he certainly didn't concern himself with identifying the difference. A second desk stood out in the crowded space. It was tucked away into the corner, but was easily distinguishable due to the neat and orderly piles of paperwork and trays that at a glance Draco thought might be a filing system.

Returning his focus back to the bedraggled wizard, Draco put on his most charming smile, confident that it would be easier than he expected to deter his supposed collaborator, hangover or no.

"Good morning," greeted Draco, "I was sent from the Auror office to meet my case partner. The name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Draco stepped gracefully into the office and offered his hand to shake.

The wearied wizard drew his brows together as a look of puzzlement settled upon his features. His gaze went from Draco's hand to his face and back several times without the confusion clearing from his expression.

"I don't know nothing about any Auror business," the man replied with a voice as gravelly and tired as his robes.

Draco raised his brows. Quite easy indeed to disperse with his case partner, he thought. "I was told Tonks sent word ahead, but perhaps not. It's quite alright anyway, after reviewing the case files I rather think there is no need to involve Muggle Affairs. The Aurors will handle it from here." Draco slid on what he hoped was a friendly and apologetic smile.

Draco could see the wheels turning behind the man's eyes, and was becoming convinced that he might be one of the most dim-witted wizards Draco had ever had the pleasure of encountering. He would have bet a galleon the dullard had been in Hufflepuff.

Mr. Hufflepuff's gaze shot back up to meet Draco's eyes, and Draco saw his expression shutter and become suspicious. "Malfoy, you say?" He asked tersely.

"What about Malfoy?" A prim voice said from behind Draco.

He turned to see what he assumed to be a woman, though all that was visible of her was rabid curls of brown hair escaping in all directions behind a pile of books and paperwork stacked well above her head. Based on where the hair stopped, Draco guessed she was several inches shorter than he was, and though she wore robes he could tell she had a slight figure based on how they billowed around her while she carried an entire library in her arms.

The woman set everything with a soft plunk on the immaculate desk before turning around to address Mr. Hufflepuff, who Draco assumed must be her office mate. Draco would have felt a curl of satisfaction at the way her eyes went wide and her brows shot up, had it not been matched with the crushing realization that he was almost certainly not going to get out of having a partner on this case.