Desperately Seeking Draco

Desperately Seeking Draco
By Augurey

It was a pale autumn day when Jonathan Finch stumbled into the main foyer of the Manor. A rather large rug had swept him from his feet upon entrance. He began to stand up, gathering up the lost rolls of parchment from the ground. Suddenly, he heard her screaming.

“Out! Out! Get her OUT OF MY SIGHT THIS INSTANT,” she shrieked. Jonathan shivered while attempting to shake off his fear. He stood up once more, taking time to dust off his robes and straighten his dishevelled brown hair. Absent-mindedly, he pulled his wand from his pocket and muttered “Mobilibiblus.” The rolls of parchment floated into the air beside him and proceeded to follow him down the corridor.

Down three corridors, up two flights of stairs and past the statue of Grindelwald, he found himself standing in front of two large mahogany doors, flanked on either side by two large stone pillars - both with the family crest cut into them - and two large, hooded and cloaked doormen. Intimidating though they were, he spat out his name and they quickly opened the doors.

Through the opening he could see her, staring out the large windows in the atrium on the far side of the chamber. He had been in this room before, though he hardly came back willingly. The Lady was kind only to those who managed to please her with good news or a gift, and Jonathan had met her demands weakly the previous visit. This time, he came bearing many papers of great importance.

“Finch,” she said spitefully. “Why have you returned? Do you have it?”

“My Lady,” he began quite fearfully as he took a few steps forward. “I have b-b-brought you n-n-news.”

She turned to him sharply, revealing her profile. Her long, black robes swished as she moved. Her pointed nose was now facing him. He always stifled a laugh when he saw her nose. Of course, he was so nervous that it came off as more of a snort, and she always managed to ignore it.

“What news?”

“A sighting, my Lady,” he told her. “In Limoge.”

“So you have not found him yet?”

“My Lady, I -”

“You come to me with NOTHING!” She sneered, slowly stepping towards him. “How DARE you come to me with nothing but a few rolls of parchment! These tell me nothing!”

“But My Lady, as you can see I have -”

“I don’t care what you’ve done. I don’t care if you’ve seen him with your own two eyes,” said she. She sighed loudly and crossed her arms over her chest. “Leave.”

“Lady, please! I did not see him!”

“Leave! Do not come back until you have FOUND MY SON ALIVE!” She shouted once more. Jonathan cowered below her. He was quite short compared to her tall stature.

She calmed down noticeably and stared at Jonathan vengefully. “After all I’ve done for you, Finch. After all that I have given. You owe me, and this time if you fail, you won’t live to tell about it. Do you understand me?”

“L-l-lady...”

“DO you understand me, Jonathan?”

“Yes, My Lady.”

“Find him.”

”Of course, my Lady.”

She walked back to the window and began to stare out again. Jonathan felt a wave of relief fall over him. She ignored him for a few moments, and then, with an incredibly annoyed frown on her face, she shouted, “OUT, out, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

And so he left at the sound of her angry remarks. He stumbled out of the Manor, tripped down the steps, and Apparated with a loud “pop” when his foot reached the ground.

------

Sleep had never felt so good to Hermione Granger. For days on end she had been awake, reading and researching endlessly. It had become so hard to keep her eyes open, that she had barely noticed when they had closed and she had drifted off to sleep in a matter of seconds.

Then again, she thought, as she rolled onto her back and gathered the warm blankets up over her chest, she had no recollection of actually falling asleep in bed. She didn’t even remember where she was.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she sleepily scanned the circular room around her. It looked vaguely familiar. She was lying in a luxurious mahogany canopy bed with intricate carvings and decorations set in the wood. Across from the bed, a rather large portrait of Albus Dumbledore clad in long purple robes and his favourite crescent shaped spectacles looked down upon her from the wall. A roaring fire crackled underneath the portrait. To her right, there were four windows covered by deep maroon curtains. To her left there was a rather large door that was slightly ajar.

Oh yes, she was most definitely in Harry’s bedroom at Hogwarts. When she looked to her right, there was Harry, by her side. He was sleeping peacefully. He always looked so different without his glasses. Even though his lightning-bolt scar still rested on his forehead, there was a sort of foreign look to him. She settled herself further under the covers, and Harry shifted in his sleep. Flinging his arm over her stomach, he pulled her closer, and rested his forehead against her ear.

Merlin, thought Hermione, he is beautiful.

Hermione kissed his forehead and snuggled closer to him, hoping that the bleak hint of sunlight peaking through the curtains wouldn’t go any further. She closed her eyes, and for a moment she had drifted back to sleep.

The sound of flapping wings awoke her once again, and under her breath, she cursed Hedwig when she landed at the foot of the bed and began to hoot softly. It was always easy to ignore Hedwig when she was being courteous of the fact that one of them was asleep, but she seemed to be a little more persistent than usual. She fluttered a little further up the bed and landed on Hermione’s leg.

“Ouch! Hedwig,” said Hermione quietly. “What’s your problem?”

Hedwig hooted once more, a little louder this time. Hermione closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep, hoping she would leave. Instead, Hedwig began nibbling on Hermione’s leg. Rolling her eyes towards the ceiling, she admitted defeat and beckoned for Hedwig to come closer so she could take the post from her leg. Harry stirred again while she was grasping for the envelope. It was addressed to her.

“Post, this early?” Harry inquired sleepily, not allowing Hermione to wriggle free of his grasp as she opened the letter.

“What in the name of....” she trailed off and then gasped. “Listen to this,” said Hermione as she began to read.

Ms. Granger,

Your presence is requested at Auror Headquarters today due to the fact that two wizards Owled in sick, and will not be able to participate in the Black investigation, scheduled for 1300 hours today till 2100 hours tonight.

Please be sure to arrive at least thirty minutes early.

Viola Vaughn

“But it’s Saturday,” Harry said, his mouth agape.

“That witch!” Hermione growled to herself while trying to push Hedwig off her leg. She shook her head at Hermione and in a flap, flew out of the room angrily.

Hermione could tell Harry was just beginning to wake up. Instead of saying anything else in response he yawned and then took the note out of her hands, flinging it off the side of the bed.

“She can’t have you,” he exclaimed sleepily. “Mine.”

Indeed, thought Hermione, laughing at him. She started to examine the ceiling while she sulked inwardly; she was not about to bother Harry with her frustrations. He seemed quite content to stay asleep. Viola must not trust me, mused Hermione, or she wouldn’t call me in for something this ridiculous.

“Everybody knows what really happened to Sirius,” she whinged aloud. “Why are they carrying this bloody case on when everyone knows exactly where he is?”

This caught Harry’s attention: his eyes flew open immediately. “They’re all a bunch of Bludgers to begin with, if you ask me.” Hermione giggled at him. He spoke slowly, “They’ve run out of things to do and so they’re picking on him.”

“Picking on me,” she corrected him. “Viola knows all about my project! She hasn’t even been at the Ministry as long as I’ve been working on this! As if I haven’t got enough to do -”

She couldn’t speak anymore, though, Harry had captured her lips with his and only moments later she temporarily forgot about Viola, the Ministry, and going into work on a Saturday. All she could think about was the way his lips felt on hers, and how lovely it felt to have his arms wrapped around her. Nothing else mattered for a moment.

“Gooooood morning,” said Hermione happily as he moved his lips along her cheek and down her jaw line. It’s a shame life isn’t always like this, thought Hermione. She gasped, “Professor! Now, now.... did I even say...”

He silenced her once again with a kiss, but she resisted. “Harry ...darling, I’ve ... got to go.... I can’t be ... late.... HARRY!”

He paused, growling loudly in protest, “All right, then. Fine.” He loosened his grip on her and moved away a little. “You’re free to go, Granger.”

She sighed loudly and rolled off the bed.

“Listen, I’ll go with you,” said Harry. “I need to get a few things in Diagon Alley myself. I promised McGonagall something from the Apothecary.”

Hermione laughed and poked Harry playfully.“ All right, all right. Let’s go!”

---

Hermione waved goodbye to Harry beside the double doors leading into the lobby of the Ministry and walked towards the lifts at the end of the corridor. The Ministry was seemingly empty today; there was no one there as she stepped onto the lift. On her way down to level two not a single memo flew through. As she pushed through the large oak doors into the Auror Headquarters she found at least ten people in the large room. They were all chattering away loudly.

From across the room, she could see Viola, who was looking over some parchment with Kingsley Shacklebolt. She narrowed her eyes and stormed towards her cubicle. Suddenly, one of her assistants, Mirabel Wade, began to walk with her. She looked a little frightened of the face Hermione had put on.

“What’s this all about?” Hermione demanded loudly, just so Viola could hear her. She did not look up from her discussion with Kingsley, though.

Mirabel shook a little, caught up with Hermione, and began to explain the situation. “It was the Smith brothers,” she began. “They both got hit with one of those new poison hexes... they probably won’t be in until next week.”

“What has that got to do with me?”

“Viola thought you would be a good replacement as the head of the investigation.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Hermione whinged, slumping down in her cubicle. She ignored the portraits of her family. In the pictures, they were laughing and smiling down on her. She continued to sulk.

“I was getting somewhere last night before I fell asleep. I found this old manuscript about his family, and all these strange relations he has. I found the in the Hogwarts library... can you believe it?”

Hermione continued to explain the manuscript with Mirabel until Viola interrupted her, clearing her throat loudly.

“I don’t want any complaints. Do you hear me Granger?”

“Loud and clear,” Hermione shot back. “Viola, I think I really have a good idea of where to look for my project, I found some old manuscripts...”

“I don’t want to hear about it. Today is about the Black investigation. We will be talking about Sirius Black.”

“Sirius Black is dead,” Hermione scoffed sadly at Viola, glancing away from her unkind eyes. It was always hard to hide the emotion she felt on this particular subject. “We’re not going to find him.”

Viola only rolled her eyes in response. “You keep telling yourself that, Granger. Don’t come crying to me when thirteen Muggles are suddenly dead in a street because Black just feels like killing one day.”

“I’ll stay for the day and head up the investigation if you will extend my deadline,” Hermione compromised. She felt rather proud of herself, after all. This was her chance to show Viola that she was trustworthy, and that she could follow through with an investigation on her own.

Viola eyed her comparatively. For a moment she watched the clock and straightened her robes, and then she smiled. “It’s a deal.”

-----

Keeping her cool for the time being was much easier said than done. For the better part of the day, Hermione had been battling with some of the members of the investigation over ridiculous things. For the life of her, she couldn’t imagine why anyone would even begin to assume that Sirius Black was hiding in a church. Further more, it was a Muggle church.

The game plan was to back track to points where Sirius had been ‘spotted’ recently and look for anything; evidence, clues, even Sirius himself. Sightings were reported at least twice a month, and most of the time it was a fluke. Anyone who knew of his Animagus form was prone to owl in the second they saw a black dog, whether it was large or small, or not even a dog at all.

These wizards and witches with a hankering to catch the now world famous convict were probably just hungry for the reward, which had now risen to around three thousand galleons.

The worst part came later on in the evening when Hermione found that one of the latest sightings was in Hogsmeade. There they stood at the top of High Street, discussing how to split up.

“All right, then,” Hermione looked over the small group thoughtfully. There were six of them, including Hermione and Mirabel. “I want you three to check at all the dodgy shops you can down this street. Be careful, and stay undercover. Mirabel and Jonathan will come with me to the Shrieking Shack.”

She was about to set off down the street, but Marcus stopped her. He eyed her defiantly. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no,” he informed her. “This is ridiculous. You take the shops. I want to go into the Shrieking Shack.”

Hermione stifled a laugh. “Last time I checked, I was in charge of this investigation. You’ll be checking the shops. We’re going to get this done as quickly as possible.”

“You might be the head of this investigation, but you don’t even believe Black is alive. How can we know you’re not helping him?”

“I can’t help a dead wizard,” she said, her voice raised. “These are my orders: search for Sirius Black or any clues regarding his whereabouts. That’s what we’re doing. I’m in charge. You are not. So shut up and get to work.”

“I’ll not take orders from a delusional Muggle-born,” Marcus shouted as she walked away, and he disapparated immediately. No one but Hermione had moved.

“What are you all doing? Get moving!” She shouted, and they shrank backwards. “If any of you feel the way Marcus did, you can very well leave! You’ll have Viola to deal with.”

“You’re wrong,” one of the others said quietly. “You’re the one that’s going to deal with her.”

Before she could open her mouth to speak, they had all disapparated, except Mirabel. It was not the first time that day Hermione regretted waking up.

-----

“Who do you think you are, Hermione?”

“I know who I am.”

“No one gave you the right to ignore your team members.”

Hermione sighed loudly and stared at Viola angrily. She could hardly believe Viola was taking their side. If anyone in the situation was at fault, it was the members of the group who decide to go against her orders.

“I told you, Sirius Black is dead. He isn’t coming back,” she repeated, for what felt like the thousandth time that day alone. She picked up the stack of parchments on Viola’s desk and threw them across the room. “These sightings are false. They’re rubbish. Made up. They aren’t real.”

“You need to see a psychotherapist, dear.”

“No, you need to listen to me,” Hermione was beginning to feel tears in her eyes, but she held them back. “I was there when he died. My best friend saw him fall, along with at least seven other wizards. Yet still you insist on listening to these money hungry people who are only looking to put more galleons in their vault.”

“You’re really crossing the line this time, Hermione.”

“I can’t pretend to believe in this lie anymore,” she said quietly, and she walked out the door. Hermione was not three feet away when Viola caught up with her.

“I could fire you, Hermione,” she shouted.

“Then prove it, Viola. I’ve worked here longer than you. I’ve been doing these kinds of things since I was eleven,” she said. “I have more experience than half of these wizards and witches. I’m working on an investigation that could change everything. So prove it.”

The room fell silent. Hermione watched Viola’s face apprehensively, awaiting her final answer. A look of arrogance seemed to dawn upon her, and Hermione no longer needed to hear the words. For one who so wholly believed in her once, Viola had fallen through the cracks faster than a Firebolt X. It was a great shame.

Hermione was still livid with anger as she tore through the crowds on the ground floor of the ministry. She reached the fountain in the middle of the main hall and paused for a moment. What have I done? She thought breathlessly. She was alone again, and there was no chance of turning back.

This only helped her to make a choice that changed her entire life.

It was time to take her research and turn it into action; she would leave immediately. Something inside of her was finally breaking through, and it felt as though this feeling of intense determination was creating a fire inside her.

There was only one tie left to sever before she continued.

With a “crack” she disapparated.