The Wild Mongoose Chase

Chapter 1

It was a bright and sunny day. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and Remus Lupin was not a happy man. Scowling, he made his way through the empty streets of Knockturn Alley, occasionally passing a Hag or cleared Death Eater. The two were no different in his opinion anyway. Normally, Lupin wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this, but circumstances forced him to be there... circumstances far beyond his control.

"This is what she would want me to do..." he muttered softly, pulling his thick black cloak closer around him even though it was the middle of summer. Lupin cautiously approached a large black building in the shadiest part of Knockturn Alley. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open, entering corporate chaos. Phones were ringing, parchment was flying (literally), and secretaries were bustling about with freshly made pots of coffee. Lupin pushed his way through the crowds and reached the other end of the lobby out of breath.

"How may I help you, sir?" the receptionist smiled warmly, exposing sharp fangs. Lupin pulled a black card out of his pocket and passed it to her face down. She picked it up and her smile wavered, but returned quickly, more menacing than before.

"Ah. You are here for the er, more specialized services. Here you go sir. Downstairs, third door to the right. And if you don't mind, I will be keeping this card. Have an eventful day," she said, handing him a key. Lupin just nodded and followed her instructions dazedly till he reached a drafty dungeon corridor, stopping in front of the third wooden door to the right. The letters AA were written in what was unmistakably blood, but Lupin seemed unaffected by it. Nothing affected him these days. He rapped on the door twice with his knuckles, grimacing. The door swung open with an ominous creak and Lupin walked in.

This room lacked the grandeur of the lobby. In fact, it lacked any grandeur at all, but Lupin really didn't care. He walked to the edge of the room, which could better be described as taking one large step forward, to where there was another woman sitting in a desk. This one seemed to be fully human. Lupin quickly glanced at her name plaque, which read "Janice Lestrange, manager." The woman didn't look up from her work, instead she was scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment. Lupin cleared his throat and she finally glanced at him.

"Have a seat," she snapped, still writing. Lupin sat. This woman was clearly not in a good mood.

"Have a seat. What is it?"

"I found my wife dead one morning, lying in bed like nothing had happened. No one can find anything wrong with her. My wife was murdered," he said in a hoarse voice.

"Well I certainly didn't do it."

"I am not suggesting that you murdered my wife."

"Then what are you suggesting? Because I didn't do it, and I really don't have all day."

"I want...I want to know who killed her," he said quietly, as if in another plane altogether. Janice rolled her eyes.

"Go back outside and find the ministry. This is the Double A, Assassins Anonymous, not the happy bunny society. This is Double A, Assassins Anonymous."

"I want to know who killed her, and I want them dead. I want the best people you have on this case. Money is no object," Lupin said, looking up sharply. There was an almost predatory look in her eyes that could almost qualify as Slytherin. The corners of Janice's mouth twitched. If her first impressions were correct, this man was some woe-befallen Hufflepuff gone paranoid, whose equally happy Hufflepuff spouse died of a vitamin overdose.

"Of course, sir, I understand perfectly. Normally I would have someone on this immediately, but at the moment, all of our agents are otherwise occupied. One of our junior employees should be on this case in a few weeks. Don't worry, I understand perfectly. Now--"

"No, I don't think you understand. Do you have any idea who my wife is?" he asked with a sort of silent desperation. Janice was almost touched by his concern. Now, she pictured a beaming, dumpy sort of woman, surrounded by cats and runny nosed children. The disgusting image kept her silent, but could not prepare her for his next statement.

"My wife was Narcissa Malfoy."

Her jaw dropped, almost. Now, she was surprised. After twenty five years in this business, Janice was not surprised often.

"Was she a Hufflepuff?" she asked, unable to stop herself. Lupin looked at her with a mixture of anger and amusement. Before he could reply, she composed herself.

"Well then, that changes the picture entirely... but the fact remains that all our agents are busy...but if you really want the best... I understand perfectly."

"I believe you said that already," Lupin sighed quietly as the woman continued to repeat everything she said... and then repeat that too.

***

"Malfoy, you have to take this case! There is no other option."

"Janice, your job is finally getting the better of you. Take a minute off to go correct your mid-life crisis, if miracles are possible. This is obviously some woman who died from putting too much sugar in her brownies. Some people actually die from old age... while others become senile and bother other people who are on vacation."

"I would hardly call that a vacation, Malfoy, but it's over right about... now. Your client is already on his way, and I highly doubt that you will find his case boring. So, if you will excuse me, I will be on my way."

"Bitch," Malfoy muttered, under his breath so no one else could hear.

"Bye Ms. Lestirenny!" a little girl chirped, munching on a cookie. Janice smiled genuinely and patted her on the head.

"Bye Numina."

"Daddy, I thought you said you weren't working this weekend 'cuz Mum is at her con-fence," the little girl asked, pulling at his pant leg. She had dark red hair and jade green eyes, resembling a pretty little angel out of a painting. But she was the exact opposite of a pretty little angel; she was a pretty little Malfoy... who's brother was constantly on the warpath.

"Father is always working."

"Be quiet Lucius."

"No, NUMINA. I'm five and you're only this many!" he retorted, holding up four fingers and waving them in front of her face. With white blond hair and slate gray eyes, he was a carbon copy of their father, who was, at the moment, trying in vain to feed the baby.

"Open your mouth kid," Draco said, for what must have been the tenth time. He'd been through this stage twice already, and wasn't keen on repeating it. Scowling, he waved his wand and cleaned the pea soup off his black pants and shirt. The skull and snake on his left forearm looked extremely out of place in the bright, yellow kitchen, but Lucius and Numina didn't seem to mind as they climbed on their father to get a better view of the baby, who after one year was still unnamed.

"What is it's name?" Lucius asked, curiously. He had climbed his way effortlessly up to the top of his father's six foot frame, and was now dangling off his shoulders since Numina occupied his head.

"Do not refer to people as 'it'. They are 'he' or 'she'."

"Okay father. Can I name it--wait, her--no, him. Can I name him?"

"Lucius, we are not naming your brother Voldemort."

"Grindelwald?"

"No."

"Salazar Slytherin?"

"No."

"Erm... Voldemort?"

"Lucius," Malfoy said, in a steely tone that could cut through toast. That tone had wrangled confessions out of many an inner-circle Death Eater, but unfortunately, it had no effect on this particular five year old boy.

"What about Voldie?"

"No."

"Demort?"

"No."

"Mortus?"

"Son, how many children do you know named Mortus?"

"But father, it sounds evil."

"It sounds like a cannibal meal to-go."

"What?"

"No."

"Demort?"

"NO!"

"Demon?" Lucius asked, oblivious to the icy glare emanating from his father, who would have probably burst if the baby hadn't interrupted by saying his first words that resembled a sentence.

"Maaai nammu Raalfi Maalfi," he gurgled. More pea soup settled on Malfoy's black shirt, and Numina began to giggle uncontrollably.

"Ralphie. His name is Ralphie Malphie!" she said, making the baby laugh too, spitting out more pea soup in the process. If looks could kill, all three children would be in coffins by now. Unfortunately, they couldn't, and Draco was forced to deal with them the only way he knew how. His wife would probably wallop him when she got home, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Who wants ice cream?" Draco said, unconsciously eating a spoonful of pea soup.

"Me," Lucius said, quieting immediately.

"III scream!!!" Numina shouted, bouncing up and down. Draco winced from the pain in his ear, head and shoulders-cum-trampoline. The baby gurgled again, thankfully, there was no pea soup in his mouth.

"Raalfi Maalfi."

Draco scowled and massaged his temples, wondering if it was too late to proclaim monkshood and renounce civilization. It was.

***

"Is this the right fireplace?" Remus Lupin asked cautiously, standing in Draco Malfoy's kitchen. Fortunately, they didn't know each others identities yet, or all hell would break loose.... Not that it hadn't already. Shredded bits of ice cream cartons lay strewn around the kitchen, dishes were scattered across the floor, and two little children were dancing with a baby on the countertop, screaming something in Latin. When pronounced correctly, it was a spell used to summon the Demonic powers. Screaming does not count as correct pronunciation.

"Gin?" Draco said, turning around. He looked relieved for a split second, until he saw who it was. Instantaneously, a cool mask of professionalism replaced the despairing look of a man who has seen one too many episodes of Larney, the big purple dragon. Immediately, he took on a sharp, businesslike tone that even his children could recognize, as they stopped screaming and looked curiously at the unexpected visitor.

"Double A?" Lupin inquired. Draco nodded and they shook hands briskly.

"I'm R--" he began, but Draco held up a hand to silence him.

"Double A, Assassins Anonymous. Lucius, take your sister and Mortus--Demon--Ralphie... Ralphie outside and go... do whatever it is you do," he said, shooing his children out. They obeyed wordlessly. Draco thanked Gugumala, the patron saint of Dark Lords, that his children were wary of strangers.

"Janice has already informed me of the circumstances. Are you sure that her death was not caused by something natural? Like food poisoning?"

"No. She was always very cautious."

"...Right. Was there anyone who would want her dead? Any of your old girlfriends, rabid dog, something like that?"

"Her ex-husband was a Death Eater. She was always afraid of him," Draco resisted the urge to burst out laughing. Either this old coot was mad, or his wife was married to Voldemort.

"And his name was..."

"Lucius Malfoy," Lupin said, wearily. Draco blinked and touched his head quickly. The kids were getting to him...

"Er... Repeat that. Who was her husband?"

"Lucius Malfoy," Lupin said, wondering what this man found so funny. Draco burst out laughing.

"Wait, wait. You were married to Narcissa Malfoy?!"

"I don't see anything funny about that," he snapped. Who did this man think he was?

"Nar-hhahaha-Narcissa M-Malfoy," Draco said, tears were pouring out of his eyes. Which idiot would marry his mother? Lupin did not find it amusing and sat up straighter. Draco finally composed himself, a bit surprised at having burst out like that. Yup, the kids were really getting to him.

"What, were you under imperious?"

"Who exactly do you think you are?" Lupin snapped, clearly angry. Draco couldn't help smirking.

"Her son. Draco Malfoy. And you are?"

"...I thought this was Assassins Anonymous." Lupin said, surprised that he didn't recognize the boy earlier. Who could forget the brat after teaching him for a year? Well, Lupin could, obviously.

"Yeah, well, the rules don't apply when you're investigating your mother's death. No wonder Janice said this would be interesting. " Draco muttered, his smirk widening.

Lupin was silently weighing his options. Let a cruel, heartless, mother hating bastard find Narcissa's killer, or wait a few weeks for an intern to ... well, intern.

"Are you accepting the case?" Lupin asked, receding into his quiet, hollow mode.

"It could prove to be very interesting." Draco said with a shrug. Lupin looked at him with somber brown eyes.

"Malfoy, are you telling me that finding out your mother is dead does not affect you in any way?"

"Yes." Draco said coolly, raising one eyebrow at Lupin. Draco frowned, and looked at the man closer and a recognition light bulb turned on in his head.

"You are Lupin... the DADA professor from ... third year?"

"I don't see how that changes anything, but yes I am." Lupin said, scowling. Draco let out a short, derisive laugh. Of course, only a Gryffindor could care about a cruel, heartless, son-hating woman. A shudder went up his spine remembering the time he was four and dropped the crystal tea set. It was his first experience with the Cruciatus, and it wasn't pleasant. The tea set had been ugly, too.

"Do you know, Lupin, exactly what you are getting yourself into? This is highly illegal. Do you know what that word means, or should I look it up for you?"

"I know what I am getting into, and I want to find Narcissa's killer, even if it means working with you. How should I pay?" Lupin said, meeting Draco's glare level-to-level. Draco smirked, the senile old Gryffie meant business.

"Don't. Finding the killer and thanking him profusely for ridding the Earth of Narcissa is enough for me. And... the keys to Malfoy Manor."

"You have the keys already." Lupin muttered, not bothering to rebuke him for the first part of the sentence.

"No keys, no case."

"Alright then! No case." Lupin snapped, getting up to leave. Draco smiled menacingly and handed him the pot of floo powder.

"Whenever you're ready."

***

"Lucius? What's going on?" Numina asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes. Lucius was wide awake. Ever since he ran away from his parents and fell into a vat of vampire blood in Knockturn alley, he didn't need much sleep. The Malfoys already had vampire blood in them, but the percentage was so little in the children that it didn't affect them. The only way to activate the vampire blood inside you was to immerse yourself in a vat of it and then eat seventeen steaks. Draco was ready to feed him the steaks, but Ginny had her say, and now the entire family was vegetarian, stopping Lucius from reaching his full vampiric potential. Too bad.

"Mother is walloping father, I think, for sending that man away," he said solemnly. Numina giggled.

"Poor Dad. Mum must be angry."

***

"OF COURSE I'm ANGRY, Malfoy! You told me your mother died before you went to Azkaban!"

"Well, she was dead to me," Draco shrugged nonchalantly. Ginny had red blotches of color on her face and she was screaming at the top of her lungs. Thankfully, Mortus...Demon...Ralphie was a heavy sleeper.

"HOW can you NOT CARE that your MOTHER is dead?"

"Why should I care? It doesn't affect me."

"Well, the least you could've done was taken the case! Poor Professor Lupin looked devastated when he talked to me!"

"He's obviously mad. Which sane Gryffindor would marry an evil Slytherin? That too, a Malfoy." Draco said, turning a page in his book, The Half-Vampire's Guide to World Conquest, by Gugumala III.

"Well, I did!"

"You are not sane, and we have a political marriage. Lupin actually loved her." Draco yawned, explaining it to her as if she was two. He was good at that.

"Look at me you bloody bastard! You take that case or I want a political divorce!"

"So get a political divorce," Malfoy shrugged, the course of action was definitely self-evident. He struggled to remember why they got married in the first place.

"Money and sex, remember?" Ginny stated, giving him a wry smile and sitting down on the bed.

"You needed influence, and I needed something that Potter wanted. Money and sex were fringe benefits," Draco snorted. So much for having something Potter wanted. Harry ran off somewhere, presumably with Hermione, a month after Ginny and Draco's wedding. His plan for Potter-conquest failed miserably after that last development. Ginny, however, used the Malfoy name as a tool to give her clothing designs to various powerful Slytherins who knew her investment banker/assassin husband. Her career was soaring, but Draco still made more money. Snarky jerk.

"Well... now I need to get on with my life, Malfoy. You really have held me back long enough."

"I held you back? If my memory hasn't failed me as yours fails you, your family is the reason we're both stuck in a rut."

"My family! Shut up ferret-arse. I'm sick of your bullshit," she snapped. Malfoy looked genuinely surprised for once. After seven years, she could read him like a book... an ancient, hieroglyphic book that required careful analysis, but a book nevertheless.

"You don't know?! Hah. And I thought Potter was stupid. Your parents... entire family, in fact, told me to marry you so Potter would get jealous and come... sweep you off your feet, or whatever it is you Gryffindors do. Instead, he ran off to Siberia with His-mione. Why not get a divorce? It's been seven years and Prince Smarming hasn't showed up. Pack up and move on," he spat coldly. Ginny was a bit shocked. So that was why all of her family was so lax about letting her marry Draco... she'd always thought it was because Ron married a Demon on the same day and everyone was too preoccupied with him to worry about her.

"Do you want a divorce?"

"I don't care."

"You don't care. What DO you care about?!"

"Nothing, really," Malfoy replied, smirking again. Ginny glared at him as evilly as she could and pointed a finger at the door.

"OUT!" she snapped. He yawned loudly and stretched his arms, pretending not to notice her. She grabbed a pillow and started beating him over the head. It didn't help when he started laughing.

"Ok, ok, I'm leaving! Ow. Temper, Weasley, temp--OW!" Draco shouted, when the pillow was replaced with his Gugumala book. Snatching his book before she could give him a concussion, he took the pillow to shield himself and went to the door... but it didn't open. A candlestick holder flew five millimeters away from his nose and he pushed the door open a little harder. A louder "ow" came from outside and the flying objects stopped for a moment. Puzzled, Draco looked outside to see what was happening and then started laughing again. If Ginny was angry before, now she was a stampeding rhinoceros, armed with a sharp glass paperweight. She shoved the door open to find Draco laughing, her daughter was just waking up and Lucius was rubbing his arm, which was bruising from being hit by a door.

"Mother are you going to kill me?" Lucius asked, glancing at the paperweight with wide, panicked eyes. Ginny guiltily put down her weapon and picked him up, all the while glaring at Draco, whose snickers echoed around the house like a pair of murderous church bells she knew personally.

"Of course not honey! I was just... cleaning the paperweight. Er... right. What were you doing outside the door?" she said, changing the subject to something less self-incriminating. She glanced at Draco, who'd picked up Numina and was walking towards her bedroom. Ginny reluctantly followed him, fortunately not paying attention to what her son said next.

"I fell asleep, but I was s'posta be ease-dropping, like Father taught me to. He said it's a good skill to know if you want to be dark and powerful one day. Right, Mother?"

"Yes dear," she replied, absentmindedly putting him down on his bed. Lucius was about to continue and describe all the other useful "skills" Draco taught him that day, but his sister interrupted, possibly saving her fathers life.

"Can we have a bedtime story?" Numina asked, a little more awake.

"Hm... which one?"

"Tell the Azkaban story. You said you would," Lucius demanded, glaring at his parents and forgetting everything else. Draco decided to oblige him before Ginny could say anything and end up bashing him on the head with Lucius' stuffed puffskein... Metal-Skull. (Metal-Skull was a Malfoy heirloom, which was a toy for children only in name. In reality, it was a dangerous weapon which helped the vengeful Malfoy wives vent their anger... on unfortunate Malfoy husbands.) Keeping one eye on Metal-Skull the stuffed puffskein, a.k.a. feared object of destruction, Draco began his story. However, due to the perilous circumstances, his imagination was temporarily shelved away in the part of his mind which held compassion, and he was forced to tell his life story under an alias.

"Once upon a time, there was a boy named Duke Malkovich who was an investment banker sometimes, but other times, he killed people for money. One day, this evil, evil person called Larry Porter lied and said that Duke Malkovich killed someone, when he really didn't, but everyone was a Gryffindor, and they all believed Larry Porter. Duke was sent to prison, Azkaban, which was full of horrible things called Dementors. The Dementors were very scary and sucked out happiness from normal people, but Duke wasn't scared, because he had vampire blood, and the Dementors couldn't do anything to him. But Duke couldn't just walk out, since he was in top security, so he started digging a big hole underground so he could get out. Then, after four years, he fell through a hole and found out that some of his old friends lived under Azkaban, and they helped him get out. Er... the end."

"What happened then?" Lucius said, scowling. It was an odd expression for a five year old, but he mastered it at three. Numina was falling asleep, but Lucius refused to till the story was finished, so Draco continued.

"Duke Malkovich came out, and the only thing he wanted to do was kill Larry Porter, because Larry Porter was very evil. So..."

"Did he get married to a princess?" Numina asked, drowsily.

"Yes he did."

"But I thought all he wanted was to kill Larry Porter!" Lucius muttered.

"Keep listening. Duke Malkovitch married Vinny Wheeler, a princess, because she knew Larry Porter, and could help him kill her." He was greeted by silence, the kids fell asleep. Ginny rolled her eyes at him as they made sure the miniature agents of evil were properly bundled up like Eskimos to protect them from the middle-of-summer arctic chill... which didn't exist.

"Larry Porter. Hah. And you say MY bedtime stories are bad!" Ginny snapped, mentally preparing herself for a verbal sparring session. She waited one...two...three...four...five seconds, but it didn't come. Worried and perhaps elated that her husband had collapsed dead behind her, she turned around. Draco was gazing intently at their youngest child's cradle with an unreadable expression, even for her. Love? Nah. Ginny's anger, which was quick to come, was also quick to leave, so it left. Bedtime stories usually calmed her down a bit, something Draco again thanked Gugumala for. For a minute, they just stood there, looking at the mini-fiends sleep.

"Gin?" he said softly behind her ear. She shuddered quickly, filled with a feeling to run away, and move closer to him at the same time.

"Huh," Ginny said, eerily reminded of her unshakable attraction for sexy, evil blonde men. Before she could stop herself and impulsively snog him right there, scarring her children forever, Draco unintentionally took it upon himself to save Lucius and Numina from trauma.

"What are we naming the third one? I can't call him 'kid' forever," he asked, ruining the semi-perfect snog moment. All her temporarily misplaced anger came flooding back.

"I REFUSE to name my one-year-old son Mortus!" she snapped, turning on her heel and stalking away.

"Must be that time of the month..." Draco muttered, taking one last look at Demon, or whatever his name was, and heading towards the guest room. It was going to be one long night.