Just One of Those Days - A Draco/Ginny Detective Story

Splat. Splat. Splat.

The sound of heavy footsteps broke through the stillness of the night. Someone was running through the rain, splashing through the puddles of water that covered the pavement and sending wet drops everywhere. Including on the petite red-haired woman that happened to stand in his way.

The fugitive barely gave a grunt of acknowledgement as his heavier bulk smashed into her, sending her headfirst into the entrance of a nearby door.

"Hey!" She sputtered indignantly as something odd happened suddenly. A feeling of dread took over, silencing the stream of curses that threatened to escape her mouth. Instead, the small woman took a step backwards until her back pressed uncomfortably against the cold doorframe and she was hidden in the shadows. She held her breath as her heart raced in panic. Her throat went dry. Something was wrong. Deadly wrong.

The woman barely heard the attackers over the sound of her own blood in her ears when they finally advanced on their victim. She also didn't catch the muttered Avada Kedavra, but she did recognize the deadly green mist as it went towards the helpless man.

It was a long time after the attackers had left that she actually dared to leave her hiding place and take a tentative step towards the man who had overrun her earlier. Or more precisely, his corpse that had been left on the wet street. Then, Ginny Weasley screamed.

~*~*~

The Ministry of Magic was located in a large, white building right next to a couple of Muggle banks and law firms. People clad in formal clothing, holding today's newspapers in their hands -'the Times' could be spotted just as often as 'the Daily Wizard' - went back and forth in front of it, looking important and in a hurry.

However, this lively hustle and bustle was left behind as soon as you stepped into the regal building that housed the Ministry, as it was commonly called. Here and there you could hear crisp steps on the polished marble floor (white, of course) or the soft snoring of a portrait of a former politician that had fallen asleep over the tremendous task of looking stern and important. Conversations were held in hushed tones - more out of secrecy and a sense of paranoia than of awe for the Ministry, and people did their best to appear imposing even if their task consisted of nothing else but getting a cup of coffee for their chef.

Usually the little noise that came from those people faded as well as soon as you made your way through the richly decorated doors that led to a staircase, which in turn led to the upper floors. It was here that, more often than not, the fate of the Wizarding community was decided. And it was precisely here on the third floor behind door 43, that Daedalus Dunham, the current Minister of Magic who had followed in Mundugus Fudge's footsteps, welcomed a most unusual visitor.

~*~*~

"Say something," the Minister urged his guest after the silence between them had stretched for too long. He was fed up with staring at the younger man's back as his gaze lost itself in the panoramic view of London's skyline.

The other wizard shrugged. "What is there to say? He is dead."

Daedalus sighed. "I expected a bit more...feeling from you. He was your partner, Mister Malfoy."

"He was more than a partner, Minister Dunham. He was a friend," Draco Malfoy said in a toneless voice as he ran a long-fingered hand through his hair. It was a mess and that alone was proof enough to show the man's agitation. A Malfoy's hair was never a mess. Except in very dire situations. "Does his family know?"

"Yes," Daedalus replied in his raspy baritone, "Mrs. Flint has been informed. I have to admit that she didn't take the news too well, but what would one expect? Marcus was her only son, after all."

"What did you tell her?"

"That her son died a hero. Defending the Wizarding community."

Draco snorted. "But you didn't tell her who did it."

"Of course not. Basically because I don't know myself."

Malfoy raised an aristocratic eyebrow at this and turned around to face the older man. "And is that the same answer that I am going to get? There aren't even suspects?"

"That is something I should ask you, Mister Malfoy. He was your partner." Daedalus fixed Draco with his keen, intelligent gaze. "Are there any suspects? Did anyone have a reason to want Marcus dead?"

"Of course," Draco laughed bitterly, "In our line of work it's unavoidable that we make enemies. I could name at least a dozen of them." He shook his head and sank heavily into the huge leather chair in front of the Minister's enormous claw-footed desk. "I guess we're not lucky enough to have any witnesses either, right?"

"Oh, but we are."

Draco's head shot up at these words and he stared expectantly at his superior. "Well?"

Minister Daedalus Dunham reached deep into his pocket and drew out a small roll of parchment. "That's her address," he smiled as he handed it over to Draco. "I believe you will not deny me if I assign you to solve Marcus' death, will you?"

The determined glimmer in Malfoy's eyes told the Minister everything he needed to know. His best Auror had just accepted his newest assignment with even more than his usual enthusiasm. Smiling contently, Minister Dunham leaned back into his chair and watched Malfoy's retreating back. Marcus Flint's murderers would be found, there was no doubt of that. Until then, Daedalus mused, he would enjoy another cup of coffee. Whistling softly to himself the Minister grabbed some Floo powder and yelled for his secretary.

~*~*~*~