Chapter Fourteen

Thank you to my beta, AmyLouise, and all money goes to JKR, WB, and Scholastic.

Chapter Fourteen

The wheezing, rattling breaths were audible as Hermione crept into the room, which was enough to shoot down any nerve she had gained from Draco in the hallway. She immediately dropped her face, her eyes firmly glued to her feet, and she studied the minute cracks in the leather as she shuffled forward toward the bedside. She knew she had to look sometime, but after standing there trembling for five minutes, she turned around and bolted toward the door.

"Draco, could you please come here?" she asked before she lost her nerve. She could feel the eyes of every Weasley on her, and she could sense the shift as Draco stood from the bench outside Ron's door to make his way to Hermione. The shock was nearly tangible, although she hoped that most of the family was thinking in the "friends" category.

Draco pulled the door shut behind him, grabbing Hermione's hand. He tried to meet her eyes, but she seemed intensely interested in her shoes at the moment.

"Hermione, you don't have to do this."

"Draco, you know that's not true," she croaked. "I have to let him know I'm still his friend..."

When they finally reached the bed, Draco could hear Hermione's deep breath and prepared himself to catch her. He realized he hadn't looked yet, either, and he told himself it was because he was focused on her. They both seemed to find their resolve at once, and as their heads lifted, even Draco gasped.

"Merlin's fucking wand..." Ron was covered in places with some sort of green goo, but Draco could see the blackened skin beneath the patches, and Ron's leg was still flattened with the crushed bone, although he could see movement underneath the skin, much like an animal moving right near the surface of the ground. It was truly sickening, and it took Draco a few seconds to realize that he hadn't caught Hermione in his arms.

She was completely frozen, a stone statue with tears streaming down her face. Her first sound was a choke, and Draco didn't know what to do. Should he put his arms around her? He felt like she would crumble if he moved a muscle.

Finally, she turned her shaking head to look at Draco, and the agony in her eyes gave him no choice but to surround her with his arms and try to keep the pieces of her body on their wobbling frame. At the touch, Hermione let go and sobbed, and after what seemed like several minutes, she lifted her grief-stricken eyes to Draco's again.

"Why? Why would someone do this? Who would hurt people this way?"

"I know plenty of people who hurt people this way," Draco replied quietly. "And I don't believe they are misunderstood or that they've had such terrible lives that they couldn't help themselves. I've seen the most privileged witches and wizards become monsters just for the fun of it, and I don't think there is ever an acceptable reason to do something like this."

It was the first time Hermione had heard Draco go this far with the criticism of his father. Her tears kept spilling, and she just leaned into his solid chest. "I'm sorry."

He didn't say a word, but the way he held her told her he was crushed by the reality of what the majority of the adults in his life had done over and over. People he had respected and tried to emulate.

XXXXX

When Draco half-carried Hermione from Ron's room, he nearly stumbled over the Minister of Magic. He had once considered Shacklebolt a traitor for joining the Order, but surprisingly, the venom which used to slosh into his brain upon sight of the Minister had turned to great respect. Maintaining a position at the Ministry while working for the Order had been more than dangerous because of the Dark Lord's skills as a Legilimens, so Shacklebolt must not only be brave, but he must be quite the accomplished Occlumens as well.

"Mr. Malfoy... I wasn't expecting to see you here. Good evening," Kingsley greeted, making no effort to hide his perplexed stare at a wilting Hermione in the arms of her nemesis.

"Good evening, sir. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances," replied Draco, maneuvering Hermione so that he could offer his hand to Shacklebolt. At this, the Minister's eyebrows went up another notch. He clasped Draco's hand, though, and looked him in the eye.

"After an associate of mine visited the Parkinson home, I must admit I had you on my list of suspects. I didn't realize you and Pansy had separated. However, Harry has vouched for your whereabouts this afternoon, and, as it turns out, we have evidence connecting the crime to someone else. I apologize if any of this offends you. May I assume we can count on you for help during the investigation?"

Draco hesitated for a split second, but he supposed he couldn't blame Shacklebolt for his initial thoughts. After all, he should be a natural suspect under the circumstances. "I will do anything I possibly can, sir."

Another raising of the eyebrows from the Minister. For one, he actually believed Draco was on his side this time and, for another, he was more than slightly surprised that the present company showed no apparent signs of discomfort. It was as if Draco Malfoy had always been a friend to Harry rather than an enemy. Draco also seemed to be very sensitive to Hermione Granger's pain at the moment, and there was simply no explanation for that. Seeing as there was no protest from Hermione, though, Kingsley decided not to become concerned. He had bigger fish to fry.

Just then, Arthur walked up, holding a bit of parchment. "We have no idea who this could be, Kingsley. It looks, however, like this photograph was taken at the Death Eaters' cemetery. I recognize a few family names from Voldemort's inner circle."

Shacklebolt explained that the picture had been found on the front lawn of Brothers and Brooms.

Draco and Hermione both peered over at the photo, and Draco had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. He had been in that place twice as a young child, and he knew Arthur was quite right about the location. That, however, was not what had startled him.

The cemetery's photograph was filled with gravestones, some blackened and crumbling with age, and some gleaming with newness. The woman was attempting to capture most of the grounds so that anyone with a brain would know where she had been. Unfortunately for her, she was standing in front of a black marble stone, and her reflection had been captured in its surface.

This jolted Draco for two reasons. One was that the woman was definitely the deranged lunatic from his nightmare. The second was that the background contained a mausoleum, and that mausoleum was his chapel. He was sure of it.

He realized he was frozen and imperceptibly shaking, partly because he could not have had a luckier break than this, since it would save everyone hours of searching, and partly because he knew he was about to embark on the most dangerous mission of his life. He pulled his face upward and turned to notice Hermione staring at him, silently questioning. She obviously saw what he saw, and he could not have been more grateful for her restraint. She hadn't gasped, cried out, or chosen for him. She would let him decide if he wanted to share his situation with the Ministry.

Hermione wasn't the only one who noticed something, though. Neither Arthur nor Kingsley, being seasoned members of the Order, could have missed the look of enraged adrenaline on Draco's face.

"Draco, is there something you wish to tell us?" Arthur inquired gently.

Draco jerked his head a bit too quickly to feign ignorance, so he attempted to cover himself. "No, sir, except that you are correct. That is the Death Eaters' cemetery. The reflection is hard to make out, though."

"Thank you, Draco, for the confirmation. At least we can assume the murderer is likely this female, and it seems she wants us to connect this crime with the Death Eaters. I highly doubt she would send a photo of her current position. Besides, she surely knows we have no idea where this cemetery is located." Kingsley looked pointedly at Draco, obviously hoping he would reveal that information, but Draco immediately guarded his mind. Although he had been to the cemetery and could probably guess how to breach the magical barriers, there was no way he was disclosing the location before his mother was safe. If an army of Ministry personnel invaded the place, Narcissa's chances of survival would be hopeless.

"I wish I could be of more help, sir." It wasn't a lie, and it had the desired effect. Shacklebolt obviously believed Draco had no further information because he turned to the group as a whole, all of them gathering from their scattered positions in the corridor.

"Once again, I am truly sorry about what has happened, although I rejoice that Ron is alive. We intend to make short order of finding this woman who caused him harm. The presentation of this photograph tells me that the murderer wishes to convey a message. Perhaps she resents the fact that Parkinson and some others retained their freedom by refusing a public alliance to Voldemort. Maybe she just hated the Parkinsons. Revenge is the probable motive at any rate, and I intend to have my best witches and wizards deciphering the evidence until we can identify this woman and apprehend her."

After a few questions, the group began to disburse again, knowing there was nothing to be done but wait. Only Arthur remained, proposing an idea to check the Missing Witches and Wizards List at the Ministry to see if anyone could have any connection to the Death Eaters. All those found guilty were in Azkaban, but it stood to reason that a few not-so-innocent folks had managed to wriggle out of deserved consequences through a lack of proof.

Wait a minute. Missing Witches and Wizards.

In a sudden stroke of genius, Draco asked, "May I see the photo again, sir?"

Shacklebolt handed Draco the photo, and then continued to discuss the plan of action with Mr. Weasley. Draco took his opportunity. "Simulo," he whispered while barely flicking his wand, and a copy of the photo appeared on top of its twin.

"Brilliant!" Hermione whispered. She slid the copy off Draco's hand and into his pocket. Draco, faking a look of continued confusion, turned and handed the original back to the Minister, who took it absently. When he lifted his eyes again, he saw Harry staring back at him, expressionless. He and Ginny had obviously had a look at the photo before, and Draco knew the Spinach-Eyed Savior was ready to go Gryffindor. He was surprised the Auror in him had allowed Draco to take the lead on whether or not to reveal their related plight to the Ministry. Draco shifted his eyes slightly to the left, indicating that he wanted Harry to follow.

"I'll be right back, Hermione. Nature calls."

Harry waited a few minutes, then turned to where Ginny, Bill, and Fleur were sitting. "Hey, love, I need to go to the loo." Ginny scowled, not liking to be left out of the action. Harry just grinned and shook his head. Bill gave him a bit of a funny look but didn't say anything.

When Harry reached the bathroom, Draco was standing at the sink waiting for him, hands holding the sides of the porcelain. He had a momentary flash of a time long past in which he had seen Draco in this same position, when Harry had committed a violent act for which he would never forgive himself.

"Okay, what's the plan?"

Draco still couldn't believe how readily the Potters were willing to support him. Their saintliness was a bit less annoying now, although he still couldn't fathom their motivation. He was so used to the Slytherin idea that you owed a favor to anyone who helped you that he felt compelled to repay them somehow.

Far more disturbing was the fact that he had a feeling he would end up being friends with this man he'd hated since first year.

"I'm going to Floo Charles Pendington. When the Head Weasel...I mean, Mr. Weasley...mentioned the Missing Witches and Wizards List, something occurred to me. As we were discussing possible suspects for my mother's abduction, Charles had mentioned a woman going missing some time ago, who had been associated with the Death Eaters. He thought maybe the same person might have taken both that woman and my mother, but at the time, I couldn't see any connection. She had no family looking for her, and there had been no demand for a ransom or a favor. Now that we know today's events and my mother's disappearance are connected, though, it hit me that the missing woman could be the criminal here. I thought we should at least obtain her name."

"Okay, I'll go down to the lobby with you. Let's hope he's home."

Hurrying to the lift and setting it to the task of hauling them downstairs with a tumultuous squeak, both men were breathing hard with the adrenaline of a new lead. Within seconds, they were bursting forth onto the lobby floor and moving toward the line of fireplaces across the way.

"This should only take a moment if he's in," said Draco, and Harry responded with a trusting nod.

While Harry exercised his patience, his eyes meandered the room absently, thinking once again about how much he hoped Ron and Mrs. Malfoy would be safe. Funny how the two hopes were becoming equal in size.

Just then, Draco's feet hit the fireplace floor, green sparks shimmering all around him. As the flames cleared, Harry could see that not only were Draco's lips pressed into a thin line, but he also seemed completely ashen, as if the news were personal.

"Millicent is missing. Millicent Bulstrode."