Imposter

2 | lost prayers

M  A  L  F  O  Y

"And what is this supposed to mean?"

The picture dangled in front of his eyes before it was a wad on the floor. The back of Malfoy's eyes throbbed. The grizzly man tossed another photo into a bin before wheezing out of his chair. They weren't in Noxwell's traditional office, but a minor study to discuss his work. If he had to sit through another of these lectures, Malfoy swore he'd fire himself.

"Listen Malfoy, I expect more in-tell next time. A simple case on their description isn't enough."

"Mr. Noxwell," he grimaced under the formality, "it is what you asked for, and I delivered." 

Noxwell turned around before pacing. 

"First it's you and now Ms... G..." He murmured. 

"Sir, I don't see the issue, I got the information you needed on the man-"

"It's not that. I'm just... a little annoyed."

Did I ask? 

If you're a little annoyed, what do you think I am?

Malfoy had to resist the juvenile insults forming in his head. The habit was one that died hard, mostly because he was still inclined to say them simply to see Noxwell's reaction. 

The man's face puckered like a red balloon and a slight sweat crested his forehead. Another day at work and Malfoy had another temper tantrum to resolve. Mr. Noxwell was wild, orderly, and ignorant. Though it didn't please him to say it, he missed Dumbledore. 

Noxwell snagged a clipboard off the shelf and attempted to lean against his desk. The clump of fat on his back prohibited from him doing so. 

"Sir, I-"

"I have a small idea, but it will involve you working with another Auror."

Malfoy hesitated before nodding. Anything to shut the old hoot up. 

"For the moment, I am keeping this Auror's name a secret, but the two of us have devised a plan on another suspect. They-" He motioned thoughtlessly, "seem to believe we have a lead on a certain suspect of the name Decor."

The name was stale across his tongue- of course, he'd heard it before, but now it was another mishmash of Johns and Thomases. Probably a loose delinquent or some idiot vandalizing muggle areas. Whatever it was, Malfoy couldn't care less: it was another case, another blank slate on his conscience. 

"As long as," he said. A vision of a sunny field where the wind blew strong pulling trees from their home. There was a young himself gazing at the expansion of the sky, staring into the center of the universe wondering how if God existed. " Please God forgive me. " His words were lost in the imaginary field, watching the birds fall to the earth. He swallowed the intimate dream, wincing at the emotions he tried to hold back, filled the void in his soul again.

The thought passed bitterly through his head, and he nodded quietly. 

"I'll do it."

**

Narcissa slept in a room of the Manor facing south of the entry. Malfoy found it quite random from the multitude of bedrooms to choose from. Personally, he detested the residence, but she enjoyed the singular room with plain furnaces outlooking a small rose garden. The roses were in no order, reds, yellows, and pale, stretching over the soil. He remembered how they were the flowers delivered at his father's funeral, some still in the ceramic pots that had chipped from being transported.