Breakfast at Natalie's

"Draco, dinner's ready," said Natalie, approaching him. He was slumped on the couch, staring at the blank television screen.

"You go ahead and eat," he said tonelessly. "I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten since breakfast. At least have some soup," she cajoled.

"I'm not in the mood," he said stubbornly.

"Cassie and Riley helped me make it. It's tomato."

"Nobody eats tomato soup for dinner," he answered cantankerously.

"Cassie and Riley will be very disappointed," said Natalie. "Come on. At least pretend to eat it."

"I don't want to."

"Fine," said Natalie, turning her back on him. "And stop looking so depressed. It doesn't suit you."

She walked back into the kitchen, leaving him alone on the sofa.

He had called the office to report Hermione missing, even though Natalie had urged him not to. She kept saying that Hermione was sure to come back, but Malfoy had a sneaking suspicion that something had happened to her. He'd also alerted one of the agents working at the Muggle Missing Persons Watch Department, who promised that he would call immediately if any leads were found. Then he'd called Charlie, who had not answered. He'd left a message and was now awaiting his call.

He was beginning to think that this had something to do with Joseph, although how he could possibly know where she lived was a mystery to him. Muggles couldn't even see the Natalie's house because so many Anti-Muggle enchantments had been cast around the area. So he concluded that Hermione must have left the house to meet him. He wondered why she would leave her purse and especially her wand here if she were going to meet Joseph. Even if she hadn't gone to meet Joseph, there still wasn't a reason for her not to take her purse and wand. And if she hadn't gone to meet him, then who? And why? Had she met someone new at work?

He cringed at the thought of that, even though he knew it was unreasonable for him to do so. It wasn't like they were married, engaged, or in any way formally committed to each other. They were just friends, though he wasn't sure if it would be appropriate to call their relationship a friendship. (And if it was, it was definitely a rocky, unstable one.) To be honest, he didn't really know what they were. He certainly wanted to be friends, and more than that. He loved her--anyone could see that. He was sure that she knew it too, but he was so bewildered by the way she seemed unsure of herself, falling into his arms one minute and then screaming at him and pushing him away the next.

Perhaps she was still in love with Joseph? It seemed absurd, but there had to be a reason that they were married in the first place. His fists clenched at the thought of Joseph. Now that he thought about it, he could sort of see that she just needed more time to decide. After all, if you're going to pick one person to be with for the rest of your life, you'd better choose wisely. But she'd already had so much time; he didn't know how much more he could give her. He was dying to ask her to marry him, just like he had so many years ago. But he knew that if he did it now, she would refuse.

He massaged his forehead with the heels of his hands.

"Draco?" He looked up. Natalie was standing next to the couch, holding out his phone. "It's Charlie."

He eagerly snatched the phone out of her hand, giving her a nod of thanks and hurrying to his bedroom where he would have more privacy.

"Hello? Charlie?"

"Yeah, you called?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Sorry, I was out. What's up?"

"She's gone," blurted Malfoy.

"Who's gone?"

"Hermione. She disappeared this morning."

"She disappeared?" echoed Charlie. "From where? Your house?"

"Yes. She wasn't feeling well this morning, so she stayed home while my sister and I took the kids shopping. When we came home, I found this note she'd written, along with her purse and her wand. Now tell me, Charlie, why would she leave her purse and wand behind?"

"Whoa, slow down there," said Charlie. "Read me the note."

"It says, 'Draco and Natalie, I have some business to attend to, and I will be back soon. Sorry it was on such short notice. Take care, Hermione,'" he recited from memory. He heard the sound of scribbling on a piece of paper.

"Okay, I think I got that written down," said Charlie. "I'll have it sent to the analyst right away. Actually, it might be better if I had the original note. You know, for handwriting analysis."

"I'd owl it to you, but I don't have an owl," said Malfoy.

"That's fine. I'll send you mine," offered Charlie. "What else do you know? Approximately what time did you leave the house?"

"I think it was around ten in the morning. Maybe a little earlier. We got back about quarter after twelve."

"Any sign of struggle?"

"Nothing," said Malfoy. "I think she left on her own. She did leave her wand and her purse behind though, which I don't understand."

"That is really strange," agreed Charlie. "Liz never leaves the house without her wand and her purse."

"Well, yeah, and I don't think Hermione usually did either. I think..." He hesitated, afraid that Charlie would think his suspicions were just paranoia.

"Yeah? Go on."

"I think...she was kidnapped. By her husband."

"What?" said Charlie.

"She left him, remember? And he's the type that would come after her. That's why she was staying with me instead of getting her own place."

"What's his name?"

"Joseph Whittaker. He's a Muggle."

"I'll have someone look him up. But now I have to go. I made reservations for dinner, and Liz is going to kill me if I'm late. I'll talk to you later."

"Thanks, Charlie. You're brilliant."

"I know I am," he said. Then they both hung up.

Malfoy set the phone on his nightstand and rested his head against the headboard. If anyone could get a start on this case, it would be Charlie. Ever since they had first been assigned each other as partners, Charlie had shown himself to be exemplary, always being the first to take action. He wanted to be out there looking for her himself, but he knew that it would be futile. He didn't have a clue where she might be. She might not even be in London, or even anywhere on the continent. It frightened him to think of her alone somewhere, held captive by someone who had hurt her and probably wouldn't hesitate to do so again.

All these thoughts swarming in his head made him quite drowsy, and he eventually fell asleep sitting up.

He was sitting in front of the fireplace of the manor with parents, each of them with a book propped open in their lap. None of them were really paying attention to the words on the pages; it was clear that their minds were focused elsewhere. Besides the crackling of the fire and the occasional turning of pages, the room was silent. Malfoy's leg twitched from trying to stay still. He knew that his aunt Bellatrix and the Dark Lord were having a meeting in a room down the hall, and he was angry that his family wasn't invited to join.

It was his father's entire fault, the stupid prat. The Dark Lord had lost respect, or rather, tolerance for the Malfoy family after the disaster at the Ministry, and ever since they had been slightly out of the loop. However, he had to be thankful that the Dark Lord didn't just kill them all. In some ways, it would be more merciful to do so. Just as he was thinking this, he heard yelling in the foyer. As much as he wanted to get up and see what the source of the noise was, he decided that it would be better to stay out of the way.

He heard the sound of doors banging open and a flurry of footsteps converging on whoever it was that was making such a racket at the front door.

"We've caught Harry Potter!" he heard someone shout. There was some murmuring and more people shouting.

Then someone else's voice, a Death Eater, said excitedly, "And this 'ere, this girl? She's the Mudblood who's been traveling around with 'im, I'm sure of it--"

Malfoy's heart nearly stopped. He wondered if he'd heard right. Then he heard his mother's voice, and he realized that both of his parents had left the room.

"They say they've got Potter," said his mother. "Draco? Draco, come here."

He stood up slowly, and watched as the room filled will people, and among them, the prisoners being dragged inside. He couldn't tell who they were, since their faces were distorted, but there was one who was obviously female, and his stomach lurched.

"Well, Draco?" said his father impatiently. "Is it him? Is it Potter?"

"I..." His throat felt dry. "I...don't know..."

He cast his eyes sideways, trying to get a look at Hermione.

"Look at him, Draco. If it really is him--" Lucius Malfoy leaned closer and inspected Harry's face. "Take another look, Draco."

Reluctantly, Malfoy shuffled closer and forced himself to look. Harry's face was swollen from the jinx, and repulsed, Malfoy focused his gaze on his bottle-green eyes, and found that Harry was staring back at him.

Here was someone he had hated and mocked since their first year at Hogwarts, someone who had, he hated to admit, been superior to him in nearly every aspect. He'd been waiting for this kind of opportunity for years, so why not take it? But as he opened his mouth to speak, Malfoy found that he could not make himself say the words.

"I don't know," he finally said, turning away and going to stand near his mother, who placed a trembling hand on his shoulder.

"What about the Mudblood?"

"Draco, isn't that the Granger girl?" said his mother.. The entire room turned to stare at him.

"Maybe...I can't be sure," he mumbled, staring at his feet.

"And that's the Weasley boy!" shrieked his mother. "Yes, it's them! It's Potter, Granger, and Weasley!"

The adults argued some more, and then the prisoners were sent to the cellar, which was currently serving as a dungeon. The Weasley boy struggled, shouting, "Spare her! You can take me!"

Potter and Weasley were taken into the dungeon, along with the other prisoners; Hermione alone was kept upstairs. Malfoy avoided her gaze. His aunt Bellatrix was now bearing down on Hermione, questioning her about the sword that had been found in their tent.

"Did you take the sword from Gringotts?" she demanded, her wand pointed at Hermione.

"No!" said Hermione. "We found it! Please--"

"You lie, you filthy Mudblood! You've been inside my vault!" yelled Bellatrix, shaking with anger. "How else would you get the sword?"

"We didn't--please--"

"How did you get inside my vault? What else did you take?"

"Nothing! We didn't take anything!"

"Liar! CRUCIO!"

Hermione screamed, and Malfoy closed his eyes, Dear God, please stop...please stop...

"ANSWER ME!"

Malfoy opened his eyes again. As horrible as it was, he couldn't help watching.

"P-please," sobbed Hermione, "we d-didn't take anything."

"Lies! All lies! CRUCIO!" Hermione screamed again, and Malfoy had to stop himself from lunging forward. "I will get the truth out of you!"

"Draco, bring me the goblin," commanded his father.

Shakily, he proceeded down the steps to the cellar. It was dark and dank, and he felt the temperature drop as soon as he went down a few steps.

"Lumos," he said, and his wand tip flared alight. He nervously approached the prisoners, who were staring menacingly back at him. "Stand back. Don't do anything, or I'll kill you!"

He grabbed the little goblin by his frail arm and half-dragged, half-lifted him up the stairs.

"Now, tell us," said Bellatrix to the goblin, "is this sword a fake?"

"Yes," said the goblin. Bellatrix made a slashing motion with her wand and the goblin fell to the floor, clutching his face in pain.

"Now I shall call the Dark Lord." She pressed her finger to her forearm, and Malfoy felt it burn on his own arm. "And I think we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, you can have her if you want her."

"NOOOOOOOOO!" bellowed a voice, expressing exactly what Malfoy had been thinking at that moment. He turned to see Ron Weasley standing in the doorway, panting. "Expelliarmus!"

Bellatrix's wand soared out of her hand, and before he knew what had happened, he saw his father fall to the ground. His immediate reaction was to send a curse at Potter, who was now holding his aunt's wand.

"STOP, OR SHE DIES!" roared Bellatrix, holding a knife to Hermione's throat.

Malfoy froze on the spot, his eyes widening in horror. He knew that his aunt would not hesitate to kill Hermione: she was of no value to them, for they only wanted Potter.

Please don't hurt her...please don't hurt her...

He stood there, chanting the mantra over and over again in his head, as if this would stop his aunt from taking further action. She pressed the blade against Hermione's throat, and he saw a trickle of blood snake into the collar of her sweater.

"NOOOOOOOO!"

"Draco? Draco, are you alright?"

"STOP!"

"Draco, wake up." Someone was shaking him. He opened his eyes and found himself curled up in fetal position on his bed, Natalie standing over him looking very concerned. "Draco, it's me."

He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"What happened?" said Natalie, sitting down on the end of his bed.

"I had a nightmare," he said, shaking his head. "A flashback."

"What was it about? You were moaning and curled up into a ball. You looked terrified."

"It was...it was when I was...a Death Eater," he said shamefacedly.

"What? You--"

"I was a Death Eater," he said. "My parents were too. It was in the year You-Know-Who was defeated...Potter and his friends...Hermione...they were brought to my house...my aunt tortured her..."

He felt the bile rise in his throat and rushed to the bathroom sink. He came back, sweaty and pale. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

"I've got to find her," he said, filled with determination.