Ron paced back and forth, wearing a well-worn path in the floor of the evidence room. He checked his watch for the thousandth time, sighing. It wasn't like Harry to be this late. They had agreed to convene following his meeting with Kingsley and now here he was at twenty minutes past the hour with still no sign of him nor Malfoy.

He briefly wondered if Malfoy had done something nefarious to Harry along their route but stopped short of actually believing it. Malfoy was a right tosser, that much was true, but it was highly unlikely he was an assassin. And Kingsley trusted him, so that left Ron with no other choice than to do the same, especially if they were to be collaborating on the MacNair case together.

He glanced over at the small wooden cabinet lying on the evidence table that housed the contents from the Miriam Strout murder, silently wondering if Malfoy would be able to offer up any clues as to the object's origins. Every curse breaker at their disposal had been flummoxed as to what the curious insignia represented. He knew it was a long shot, but Malfoy was currently their only hope. He groaned even thinking of that obnoxious fact. After the war's end, Ron had deluded himself into believing he would never have to see the slimy git ever again. Yet, here he was eagerly anticipating his arrival.

Almost on cue, the object of his ruminations materialized in the doorway, Harry notably absent from his side.

As if by some atavistic reflex, Ron instantly drew his wand and pointed it menacingly at Malfoy's face.

"What did you do to Harry, you sick bastard!" he shouted, moving back and forth in a semi-circle around Malfoy's seemingly non-plussed frame. An onlooker might have mistaken Ron for an unhinged madman judging by his crazed display.

But, Malfoy casually inspected his fingernails and replied in an irritatingly bored tone, "Nice to see you too, Weasley. I'm ever so pleased to be working with you at the DMLE. Wasn't I just saying that, Harry?"

Harry suddenly appeared from behind Malfoy with Hermione in tow, both unable to disguise their horror at the sight of Ron hunting Malfoy like some sort of a deranged predator.

"Ron, put down your wand!" Hermione yelped, her wild eyes as big as quaffles. "What has gotten into you?!"

His hostile face promptly turned scarlet.

Draco blinked, licking his lips and donning a devious smile. "Yes, Weasley, listen to your girlfriend and lower your wand before I get the wrong impression that barbarians work here."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ron snapped, begrudgingly stowing his wand in its holster and retreating backward toward the table all while glaring combatively at the other wizard and mumbling under his breath, "I'm surprised they even let you in this place."

"Enough!" Hermione roared in frustration. "Both of you! Stop acting like children!" She shook her head with disdain as she strode with exasperation through the walkway and into the center of the evidence room, pausing suddenly to glance at the heavily warded contents of the wooden cabinet.

Harry looked around, surveying the room's inhabitants with rising irritation. "Anyone have anything else they want to get out of the way before we begin?" He looked distinctively from Ron to Draco who were willfully ignoring one another. Seeing neither offering up another word of opposition, he added brusquely, "Then let's have at it."

Wading over to stand next to Hermione, he motioned for Malfoy to follow suit. As Draco steadfastly approached the cabinet, the first thing he recognized was the subtle vibration emanating from behind the glass, a notion that had clearly captured Hermione's attention as evidenced by the bewildered look upon her face.

He leaned forward to have a closer look, his nose mere centimeters away from the translucent pane that encapsulated an ornate brooch...gold-plated and encrusted from top to bottom with precious stones.

His eyes narrowed enabling him to barely make out an embossed symbol on its worn façade, an insignia much like the Malfoy family crest, although he didn't immediately recognize it as belonging to one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

He knew every one of those crests like the back of his hand, as it had been required knowledge as part of his Pureblood upbringing.

"Harry, what is this?" Hermione asked, her attention wandering over to a rather inconspicuous photo of a flower, magically fastened to a poster board near the evidence table, alongside other pictures acquired from the crime scene. "I don't remember seeing this here before." She migrated over to glean a closer look.

"Oh, that's because it wasn't. We only recently added that after talking with a few of Miriam's close friends, co-workers really. She didn't have any next of kin," he clarified benignly. "They identified it as the only thing they knew to be missing from her residence following her murder. Although doubtful, we thought it might be important."

He retreated from the wooden cabinet and joined Hermione near the poster board. Pointing at the photo in question, he added, "MacNair ransacked the entire place, turned everything upside down and all that we could determine was missing was this solitary flower. With Miriam being a healer, she had all sorts of plants growing in her greenhouse, likely for potions she brewed for her patients. I don't recall learning about this one in herbology, though. Do you?"

A pregnant pause hung thickly between them. "No, but I do remember reading about this particular flower in one of my Ancient Egyptian History books. At least it certainly resembles this one. The petals are unmistakable." She pointed toward the picture as she gently studied it with her finger. "See Harry, they look like rays of the sun."

"That's great, Hermione," Harry replied, glad for any lead no matter how small.

"No, Harry. That is unequivocally not great. From what I remember, the Ancient Egyptians used this particular brand of species to tether their lives to the Earth, thereby eradicating death itself. Of course, there is no evidence to suggest they were ever successful, but the legend indicates that at the very least they came close."

She felt her stomach drop like a stone as her eyes met Harry's, realization dawning between them that this photograph likely had more significance than anyone had realized. And the inconceivable motive behind it was sounding eerily familiar.

"Harry, this flower hasn't been seen for centuries, maybe longer. Do you think Miriam knew she possessed something so rare that in the wrong hands could be used for something so perverse? And how did she acquire it in the first place?"

"Her friends didn't seem to know its origin, but they did say it was easily one of her favorites. They said she cared for it like a child for many years, but I don't think that's a bit unusual for a conscientious healer. They can be a bit over-attentive when it comes to their plants. In fact, this picture was actually found in a frame in her greenhouse," he explained. "When was the last time you kept a framed picture of your foliage at your flat?"

Her shoulders stiffened to the point she could feel her muscles pinching at the base of her neck. "Oh, Harry, this isn't good. This feels way too important to overlook." She sighed, anxious eyes searching his before eyeing Malfoy in her peripheral. "Let's go see if Malfoy's having any luck sorting out the pin."

Ron stood off to the side, observing the interaction and noting how neither of his friends bothered to include him in the exchange. Not that he had anything to add, but it certainly would have been nice to have been part of their discoveries. Regardless, it felt like more progress than they had made in the past week and for that he was grateful. He meandered over toward Draco alongside his friends, eager to hear what Malfoy had to add to the discussion.

"Any luck, Malfoy?" Harry asked hopefully.

Malfoy peered up from his inspection, flashing them a look of confidence. "I have a strong inclination this belongs to a prominent family, as this is assuredly a family crest. Although I don't recognize it as one I've come across recently, I do believe I've seen it before somewhere. But at the moment I can't quite place where." With a pensive air, he raked a hand through his platinum locks. "I think I know a good place to start, however. The Manor library. That's where we have volumes of ancestral materials and the like." He paused to consider it. "And if I don't find what I'm looking for there, I can always confer with my father."

Hermione flashed Harry a brief but piercing glance meant to encourage him to address the hippogriff in the room.

"Ummm, Malfoy, look...," he stammered, shifting on his feet. "Ministry policy doesn't allow us to discuss details of the case with anyone outside of this room. I thought Kingsley would have made that point clear when he hired you on at the DMLE."

"Even if it could help solve the case?" he asked, embittered surprise etched across his face.

"Yes, even if it would blow the case wide open, Malfoy," Hermione cut in. "The reality is we simply can't trust anyone with this classified information. It would compromise the case."

A strained silence rent the air.

"Understood." Malfoy pivoted to glean a closer look at the poster board hanging just beyond the evidence table. "What's this?" he asked, errantly pointing to the photos adhered to its surface.

"Pictures taken at the scene," Hermione replied, eyeing with interest the way he drank in each diminutive detail, much as she did only moments prior.

He absently nodded his head in pensive silence, only looking away when he felt the trio gradually convening at the exit. "Looks like you're ready to cut out of here," he muttered, steadily drifting toward the doorway.

"Malfoy, there's no rush. Please, take your time," Harry said with an anxious shake of his head, swiveling to halt the other wizard's retreat. But seeing Draco make no effort to return to his examination of the evidence board, he instead motioned toward the table. "So, do you have a theory as to why the brooch is vibrating like it is? Must be some sort of dark magic, yeah?"

Draco dismissed his suggestion with a wave of his hand. "I'm not particularly concerned...it's a family heirloom. It's not uncommon that it would be imbued with blood magic." He spoke as if it were the most obvious assertion ever made. Seeing their matching puzzled faces, he held out his hand to elaborate. "Take, for example, this." He pointed to the signet ring adorning his finger. "This is imbued with blood magic to ensure it only travels by way of the Malfoy lineage. Were it ever to make its way outside our family's possession, I assure you, it would vibrate well into the next millennia."

Harry nodded with intrigue as his eyes casually examined the ring, taking note of the lavish emerald stone outlined by a nettled serpent, coiled as if readying to strike.

Hermione pursed her lips, wondering just how many Pureblood rituals evaded common knowledge by slipping under the wizarding radar.

"That's quite interesting," Harry ventured, his voice a stolid mix of both relief and fascination.

He glanced over at Ron and Hermione with a subtle look of resolution. "Well, I think we got what we came here for. These are the best leads we've managed to come up with yet." Looking back at Malfoy, he nodded. "You and Hermione can spend some time following through on what you uncovered here, while Ron and I go back out in the field to resume our inquisition efforts. We'll meet back here on Monday to go over our findings."

Hermione nodded her head in agreement, then nudged Draco in the arm with her elbow. "Let's go," she said. "I'm famished. I've yet to have lunch and could really use a bite to eat before tucking into our research."

"Easy with the arm, Granger," he winced, feigning a lingering injury from their prior confrontation.

As they strolled into the hallway, his head cocked toward Harry's. "Don't think I've forgotten about our conversation earlier, Potter."

From the corner of his eye, Draco noted a bewildered expression settling on Ron's hideous face and decided it wouldn't hurt to further irritate the brainless buffoon- so he swept a languid arm across Hermione's shoulders, turning back once again to bid the duo farewell. "Later, Weasel."

It wasn't until they'd rounded the corner and were out of sight that Hermione felt the unwanted intrusion and forcefully shook his arm from her frame, rolling her eyes in admonition. "You are the absolute worst!"

"What ever do you mean?" he asked, smirking down at his visibly flustered partner. "Weasley makes it too easy for me. Especially when it's probably eating him alive that his girlfriend is working so intimately with a former Death Eater."

"Oh." She peered up at him with a noticeable anxiousness as they turned to approach the lift. "Ron and I aren't together."

Heat slowly crept up her neck at the rather inconvenient admission.

"We haven't been for quite some time. Well, that's not to say we ever were," she amended. "It was nothing really, not something that ever would have worked out in the long term anyway." A faint blush stained her cheeks as she struggled to regain her footing in the conversation. "Ron and I are friends. Very good friends, in fact. He's a bit of an overprotective brother figure if I might say so myself."

As they stepped into the lift, Malfoy added flippantly, "Like the rest of the world, I thought you and one of those two imbeciles ended up together. Seeing as Harry is with the she-weasel, that was the logical conclusion." When the doors to the lift closed, they were left standing awkwardly close together in the empty carriage, causing Hermione to shift on her feet. "At least I think that's what the Prophet said."

"I mean, well, Harry is dating Ginny yes. But Ron...he's with Lavender now." She inwardly winced, wondering if she'd crossed a line by revealing too much information. There was an agonizingly long pause so she added sardonically, "You of all people should know not to believe everything you read in the Prophet. Last week, didn't they have you engaged to an American heiress?" She loosed a nervous laugh, cringing at her idiotic admission to reading the gossip rag.

"They do like to stretch the truth," he agreed absently. "I've lost track of how many fiancés I've had over the years. You'd think the wizarding world would grow tired of reading the rubbish." At that, the lift doors opened, delivering them into the vestibule on the second floor. "Where would you like to grab lunch?"

Breathing suddenly became much easier with the rather fortunate change in subject. "I figured we'd just grab something from the Ministry cafeteria. It will be quicker than running out."

"Jot down what you'd like and I'll run down and pick it up for us."

"Oh, just a salad for me. And I have water for tea in the office."

He shook his head with incredulity. "Please tell me you're not one of those witches who only eats rabbit food unless you're alone."

She chuckled under her breath. "No, Malfoy. I assure you I eat. I just had a rather large breakfast is all." She wondered if it would be an appropriate time to tell him she shared it with his unruly owl, but thought better of it. They were getting along way too well to go down that road again.

"If you're sure," he replied, pivoting back toward the lift. "Try not to miss me when I'm gone," he added with a slight lift of his eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes, grinning with amusement as she turned to walk away. "Oh, I'm sure it will be quite difficult, but I'm certain I'll manage!"