the girl who lost it all [d.m]

sixty one: officium

Draco blinked, barely able to keep up but she sped on, voice growing louder.

"And I'm sure. I'm sure I saw her there that night. The night of the Masquerade. She was wearing the waitress uniform—and no mask. She had long golden hair in a braid and brown eyes. It's her. It has to be her."

Draco shook his head as she finally finished, staring up at him expectantly, long dark lashes brushing under her eyebrow. "What the fuck is she doing in Malfoy Manor?"

Elara frowned. "That's the part I haven't been able to figure out yet. Was she captured? Did she join them? I don't know. How were the waiters and waitresses picked for the Masquerade?"

"I don't know. My mother did most of the work."

Elara's eyes softened and she reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers. "You don't have to—"

"I'll ask Orion," he said, giving her a swift kiss. "He'll find a way to get it out of her."

Her resulting smile made him kiss her again.

|

"You said you narrowed it down."

"I did."

"There's over sixty names on this list."

"I know."

"So how is this narrowed down?"

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, if you'd consider that I had over a hundred and fifty names to deal with—you'd consider this narrowed down."

"How can there be so many women with golden hair at one Ball?"

"I don't know. It's in fashion."

Draco groaned, dropping the piece of parchment onto the kitchen table. "This is ridiculous."

Orion looked over his shoulder from where he was peeking into the oven to see if his carrot cake was baked. "Look, if we split it, it's a little over thirty houses each."

"Do you think I have the time for that?" Draco responded, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Well, you're going to have to make time if you want to find her." He shut the oven again and yanked off the mittens. "We can start now. I'll get Mochi to watch the oven."

Draco did a double take. "You'll get the—the cat to watch the oven?"

"She's trained," came the reply. "When it dings, she'll jump up and twist the knob till it goes off."

Draco blinked and heaved a sigh, turning to leave the kitchen. Between Orion and Elara, he didn't know why he was still surprised.

They divided the houses equally and set off for Wiltshire. It was midday and just an hour into visiting different houses, Draco had to sling off his cloak and roll the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows.

Each woman they visited had been present as a waitress at Malfoy Manor the night of the Masquerade Ball. But by the time Draco had reached twenty three houses of his thirty eight quota, not one of them had been Freya. They'd all come to the door and Draco had taken one look at them and apologised for knocking at the wrong house before making his exit. One woman had even offered him tea—he'd politely declined and moved on.

A couple of them even looked terrified when they realised Draco Malfoy was on their doorstep. A couple others tried to seduce him into their beds. To both, he'd bowed his head and strode away.

It was on the twenty fourth house when something peaked Draco's interest. It was a small, dingy thing—no more than a shack—and the garden was bare, the fence nearly derelict.