Summary: It's been a long day—week—and Hermione is so close to closing this murder case, so of course polyjuice has to get involved and land her face to face with Lucius Malfoy and an empty flat.
Stepping out of the Floo and into Draco's flat was the most relieving thing Hermione did all day. She immediately shucked off her cloak, sending it to hang beside the fireplace as she slipped off her shoes. Following the muffled sounds of someone moving around the kitchen, she crossed the living room and poked her head around the corner just in time to see Draco focusing very hard on pouring soup into two bowls.
"Hello, love," he said, not taking his eyes off the pot in his hands. As soon as all the soup was safely poured, he set down the pot and turned to look at her with a warm smile. Reaching a hand out toward her, he asked, "How was work?"
"Productive," she replied, smirking slightly. "Funny how that's always the case when my partner has the day off." She stepped forward, taking his hand and letting him pull her to his chest. "How was your appointment with Luna?"
Draco's smile wavered and Hermione frowned, reaching up to cup his face with one hand.
"That bad?" she asked softly. Her thumb brushed his cheek and Draco turned his head to lightly kiss her palm.
"It's never good, love," he reminded her. Hermione pursed her lips. "It was part of the deal, though, and Lovegood is as understanding as any of them, I suppose."
"If you ever need me or Harry to throw something at the Wizengamot about it, just let me know," Hermione said. Draco's lips twitched into a short smile before he dropped his head down to kiss her.
"I'll keep that in mind," he promised. He kissed her again then let her go so he could grab both of the bowls he'd filled with soup. "However, I am interested in hearing about this oh-so-productive day you had at work."
He handed her a bowl and together they took a seat at the dining room table to eat. Hermione filled him in on the closing paperwork she'd submitted for their previous case and the new one they'd been given that morning. Despite Draco being gone, Harry had refused to give the sensitive case to anyone else which is how Hermione had ended up as the head auror on a case that very clearly was dealing with a blood purist.
"Potter gave it to you?" Draco asked, frowning at her. Hermione nodded, taking a sip of the soup. "He received a call that a muggle had been murdered and that morsmordre was cast over the body, so he assigned it to you?"
"Well, he technically assigned it to us, but yes," Hermione said. Draco's frown deepened. In an attempt to make him feel a little less upset, she said, "Draco, it's okay. This isn't the first Death Eater case we've taken and it certainly won't be the last. There's a reason those cases are always given to us."
"Perhaps he should have a little more preservation before sending you out alone on one," Draco grumbled. Hermione reached for his hand and he immediately settled down. He pressed a warm kiss to the side of her head then leaned back in his seat. "Alright, so we have a new case and it's definitely with Death Eaters. Do tell me more."
Hermione rolled her eyes but did, telling him everything she'd found when she had arrived at the site and the brief rundown she'd been given beforehand. There really hadn't been much to go off of other than the body and the morsmordre floating above it, but Hermione had spent all day figuring out the victim's identity and finally found something just before leaving the office.
"Harry's keeping an eye on it, but I think that's just until you're back in the office," Hermione told him, rolling her eyes at the thought. "You both know I can handle these cases, right?"
"Of course," Draco said, bringing her hand up to his lips and kissing it. "We just worry."
As it turned out, Draco's worry was well placed. He'd arrived at the Ministry with Hermione early the next morning and hardly looked at the case file and site photos before marching down to Potter's office. Although unannounced and uninvited, Draco threw open Potter's door and walked straight up to his desk without preamble.
"You sent Hermione out on a field case that involves a known Death Eater alone," he snapped, glaring down at him.
"It is her job, Malfoy," Potter said. He crossed his arms and looked up at Draco blankly. "You weren't here and there was a body. There was an entire team with her setting the perimeter if it's any consolation."
"It's not," Draco said sharply. Potter's eyes narrowed.
"What's this about?"
"I already told you, Potter," Draco said irritatedly. "You sent her out alone on a field case with—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Potter said, waving his hand flippantly. "But I've done that before and the worst I get from you is a glare." At this, Draco glared and Potter gestured at him to prove his point. Ever the bright one, though, Potter didn't let it stop him from getting to his other point. "Something's different this time."
Draco held his gaze for several seconds.
"What is it, Malfoy? What's different about it this time?" Potter demanded, sitting up in his chair.
"Whoever did it was a Death Eater," Draco hissed. Potter frowned and opened his mouth, but Draco interrupted. "A real Death Eater, Potter, not just some wannabe. Not even I could cast morsmordre until I got the mark, so whoever it is escaped Azkaban silently or was never sent there in the first place. It's likely they've gained a small following in the past few years too."
Draco watched the realisation land on Potter and as soon as he saw it hit, he ploughed on.
"Hermione and I just went public and now there's a muggle murdered just a few blocks from where she grew up," Draco said, glaring at him harder. Hermione hadn't said anything about it, but he'd made the connection immediately. "That's no coincidence."
"I see," Potter said slowly, looking up at Draco. "I'll take her off the case if you want, but she won't be happy about it."
"I don't care," Draco said without hesitation. "Tell her it was me for all I care but for Merlin's sake, Potter, if she's ever hurt on a field case because you sent her out alone—"
"You don't get to threaten me, Malfoy," Potter interrupted sharply. "Especially not when it comes to Hermione's safety, understand?"
The room was silent and tense as the two glared at each other. Even when they were interrupted by a memo flying in and landing on Potter's desk, neither of them looked away. It wasn't until Potter's assistant poked her head into his office to announce he had a visitor that they finally ceased.
"Send them in, Peterson," Potter instructed, not looking away from Draco. As soon as his assistant stepped out of the room, he ordered Draco out.
"Never do what you did yesterday again," Draco hissed before turning sharply on his heel and leaving the office.
* * * * *
The murder was on the front page of the Daily Prophet two days after it happened. In all honesty, Hermione was a little surprised it had stayed hidden as long as it did. The Ministry had never been particularly good at keeping sensitive cases from the press and it was really only a matter of time before word got out, so when Hermione opened the newspaper two days after, she wasn't shocked.
"Do you think Skeeter will ever stop being interested in our daily affairs?" Hermione asked, setting the paper on the dining room table while Draco finished eating.
"She wrote about the case there, no?" Draco asked. Hermione shrugged.
"You know how it goes whenever it's a case like this," Hermione reminded him. The damn witch couldn't seem to stop herself from reminding her readers that Draco and Hermione were, in fact, dating and whenever it was noted that they were working a case together, Skeeter made sure it sounded more like a romantic adventure than a work assignment.
It's as if Head Auror Potter himself approves of their relationship! Who knows what he'll send them on to next. Perhaps a honeymoon? were Skeeter's exact words today, which seemed a bit overkill to Hermione.
"What does she have to say about us today?" Draco asked.
Hermione picked the paper back up and summarised, "Well, she knows that morsmordre was cast over a muggle body, but where she got that information from, I have no idea. Obviously it's our case, though I think she's trying to tell Harry to send us on a romantic vacation somewhere if the honeymoon jab is anything to go by."
"Potter should really figure out who sends her that information before it gets someone killed," Draco grumbled. He took a sip of his tea and Hermione took his empty plate. "You'd think the Ministry would crack down on that."
Hermione just shook her head and smiled, leaving Draco to his tea and his thoughts while she hurried to brush her teeth before taking the Floo to the Ministry.
Harry was waiting for them both when they arrived, the Daily Prophet in one hand and a toasted bagel in the other. Hermione stopped short in her office door, staring at Harry who had made himself at home behind her desk and looked like he had nothing else to do at the moment.
Stepping around Hermione, Draco glanced at Harry and said, "This isn't your office."
"It's not yours, either," Harry pointed out. Draco shrugged and pulled off his cloak, taking Hermione's from her and hanging them both on the single hook in her office.
"Well, it's certainly not mine anymore seeing as you two practically live here now," Hermione said. Waving her hand at him, she told Harry, "Scoot."
He scrambled out of her chair, brushing off bagel crumbs from his robe and ignoring Draco's raised eyebrow at his rather clumsy escape.
"Someone dropped by evidence last night after you both decided to take an early leave," Harry told him. He procured a thick envelope from his robes and dropped it lightly on Hermione's desk. "We had spell casters look through it, so nothing in there should kill or otherwise harm you."
"Should?"
"We believe it's more connected to the victim than the killer, but who knows," Harry said, ignoring Hermione's sceptical glance. "We haven't actually looked at it."
"Say, Potter, what is it you do if it's not looking at evidence that was dropped off under suspicious circumstances?" Draco asked, sitting on the arm of Hermione's chair. "Eat bagels and read quidditch?"
"No," Harry said defensively, giving Draco a look. "I watch quidditch." Draco rolled his eyes and Harry pointed at them both accusingly. "But I'm Head Auror so I can do what I want. You two, on the other hand, have a case to solve, so get to work!"
Hermione laughed under her breath while Draco scowled, both of them watching Harry walk out of Hermione's office. He made sure to close the door behind him, winking at Hermione just before the door clicked shut and he was out of sight.
"We should really uninvite him to dinner tomorrow," Draco grumbled, turning from where he'd been watching Harry so he could look at Hermione.
"No, he's our friend," Hermione reminded him. She put her hand on Draco's that rested on the desk and he looped his fingers through hers.
"He's your friend," Draco insisted. "I tolerate him at best."
Hermione laughed and Draco attempted to hide his smile by kissing her knuckles.
"I tolerate Lavender and we don't go out for drinks every weekend and play quidditch," Hermione said, giving him a playfully pointed look. Draco waved his hand as if her words meant nothing, but did a poor job at hiding the small smile Hermione had come to know so well.
"The press can never know our rivalry has ended," Draco said, dropping his smile to look at her seriously. "It will be the end of me."
"Understood," Hermione said. She got to her feet and pressed a kiss to Draco's cheek. "Now, help me search through our current evidence and compare it with whatever's in that envelope Harry brought."
* * * * *
All their comparing of evidence brought them no closer to any real conclusion. They knew the murderer was an ex-Death Eater who (most likely) had the dark mark, but that didn't particularly narrow things down. Whoever it was had evaded Azkaban which meant they didn't have a complete list of suspects after all. Hermione suggested they talk to the muggle family, but Draco pointed out the murderer likely had no connection to the muggle and the family would certainly have no idea.
The only thing the envelope turned up were a couple of old photographs of the muggle victim and who Hermione could only assume was an old lover. There was a handwritten note from the man to the woman, but the signature read "your love" and was unhelpful in identifying anything. Hermione kept the envelope just in case, but they ruled it out as anything helpful.
It was Draco who finally decided to make a list of all the families that had ever shown an inkling of support to Voldemort that finally got them going somewhere.
Most of the list was composed of families Hermione was unsurprised by, but there were a few names Draco threw out that did give Hermione pause. At the end of their list, however, they had only a few possible suspects and most of them were farfetched.
"Slughorn is at Hogwarts still," Hermione pointed out, attempting to scratch out the old professor's name. "Besides, he was kind of part of the Order during the Second War."
"But he was fond of the Dark Lord when he was at Hogwarts," Draco reminded her, swatting her hand away from the parchment. "Besides, I've never really seen him make any firm stances on whether or not he was against the Dark Lord."
Hermione huffed.
"Fine, but I'll contact Jugson," Hermione said, pulling out a sheet of parchment to send an owl.
The rest of the names on the list were, unfortunately, a long stretch. Aside from Jugson who had been a rumoured Death Eater during both the First and Second War, no one else had been convicted or even rumoured. If Hermione was honest, the list was really just filled with names of families Draco had heard his parents speak of.
"You don't think we should check Azkaban, do you?" Draco asked after a second. Hermione looked at him curiously. "Death Eaters have bribed their way out before. We certainly shouldn't rule it out, don't you think?"
"I don't think there's a high probability of it," Hermione said, weighing the risks in her head. "If our search doesn't turn anything else up though, we should at least check."
Draco nodded and pulled the parchment list of names off her desk to look over yet again. Hermione grabbed her quill, leaving Draco to his thoughts while she penned a letter to Jugson formally requesting his presence at the Ministry the next afternoon. While she refrained from mentioning anything about the case, she made sure he understood that failure to show up would mean the Ministry had reason to put him under arrest.
* * * * *
First thing the next morning, Hermione got a memo announcing Jugson had arrived to meet with her. Luckily, Draco had taken the time to actually work in his own office that day, so she didn't have to worry about him crowding the meeting and potentially making Jugson feel more attacked than he already would. She moved the case files off of her desk, then walked out to the reception to meet Jugson and walk him back to her office.
"Not to the dungeons, then?" Jugson asked, his upper lip curling slightly as he took a seat in front of her desk.
He sat perfectly straight and crossed one leg over the other as if he was rather content to be there with her. Hermione eyed him warily but said nothing.
"This interview is not related to your rumoured past involvements, Mr Jugson," Hermione said. She pulled out her parchment of pre-written questions as well as a quill to refrain from touching her wand on her thigh. "My partner and I are more interested in your recent involvements as your name came up during one of our cases."
"Oh yes," Jugson said with fake enthusiasm. "The whelp."
"Mr Malfoy is consulting on this case, yes, but he is not of concern at the moment," Hermione said. Jugson chuckled lowly and Hermione fiddled with her quill, watching him with an unreadable expression. "I'm interested in hearing about your whereabouts several days ago on 3 April."
"I was there," Jugson said flippantly. Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Where your murder was, that is. I was there."
"Forgive me for not believing that," Hermione said smoothly. "You say you were there, but where exactly were you?"
Jugson eyed her for several seconds.
"I was in northern England, close to the border of Wales," Jugson said shortly.
Making note of his answer, Hermione asked, "And what were you doing there?"
"Meeting an old friend, I'm sure," Jugson said. He leaned back in his chair and watched Hermione scribble a short word.
"Have you visited any of your previous friends who were convicted and sent to Azkaban?" Hermione asked. Jugson's sneer faltered and he frowned.
"You're not going to ask who I was meeting?" he asked. He leaned forward and tried to glance at her parchment, but Hermione had cast a charm over it before his arrival so only she could read it.
"That's of little importance to me right now, Mr Jugson," Hermione said. Her other questions would determine how important it was to continue investigating him and she was not interested in playing into his self-pity party. "I assure you, if it was, I would ask. Instead, I want to know if you've made recent trips to Azkaban or kept in contact with any of those convicted?"
"No," Jugson said coolly. Hermione nodded politely and made a strike under the question.
"Just a few more questions here, Mr Jugson, then you'll be free to go," Hermione assured him, looking at the two that remained. "May I please see your left arm?"
Jugson's upper lip curled in annoyance and he yanked up the sleeve of his robe to reveal the Dark Mark boldly imprinted on his arm. Hermione made note of it but paused. Leaning forward, she took a closer look at Jugson's Dark Mark as a weird shimmer caught her eye.
Noticing her change in interest, Jugson tugged down his sleeve and got to his feet in one smooth motion. He pulled out his wand from his sleeve but did not point it at her.
"We all have our scars, don't we, Mudblood?" Jugson accused, flicking his wand down to her left arm. "Where Bellatrix left yours, the Dark Lord left mine and you will not have the privilege of looking at it."
"Sit down, Mr Jugson," Hermione snapped, her hand flying to her wand. Jugson did not.
"You have nerve, Mudblood, to sit there and pretend—"
"Mr Jugson. Sit," Hermione ordered. She flicked her wand and he was forced back into his seat. "I have one more question."
"I won't answer it, filth," Jugson snarled, tugging against the invisible restraints to test them.
"It's rumoured that you were a longtime partner to Malfoy Apothecary, yet you were a minor pureblood family until recently," Hermione recited, setting her wand on her desk. "Lucius Malfoy wouldn't have cared for you as a partner unless you showed some sort of promise."
"You know nothing about the Malfoys," Jugson snapped, straining in the chair. "You Mudbloods are all the same, thinking you know us once—"
"Mr Jugson, have you been brewing illegal potions for Malfoy Apothecary?"
"You overlooked me and you continued to do so," Jugson sneered, looking at her wickedly. "I'll tell you now, Mudblood, I killed that muggle. I was there and I used the avada myself."
"The potions, Mr Jugson," Hermione repeated, looking at him harshly. "Have you been brewing lately?"
"She won't be the only muggle either," Jugson promised darkly, eyes wide and angry.
The look on his face bordered on maniacal, but Hermione didn't reach for her wand. When he broke through her restraining spell, however, she jumped to her feet.
"Mr Jugson, sit—"
"You'll die, Mudblood," Jugson hissed. He slammed his hands on her desk and Hermione's wand shot towards his chin. "It will be by my hands and you'll never see it coming."
"Mr Jugson, you'll be escorted out if you don't sit down and answer the questions," Hermione warned, her wand not wavering as she kept it at his face. "Have you been brewing potions—"
"No," he sneered, spit hitting her face at the harsh word. "Not for the apothecary."
Hermione regarded him with a guarded expression then waved her wand to form an invisible barrier around her desk. Jugson was pushed sharply out of her space.
"Mr Jugson, you may leave," she said sharply. She used her wand to open the door for him and was a little surprised to see Draco on the other side. "You may leave," she repeated, narrowing her eyes slightly as she looked at Draco. "And Mr Malfoy may come in."
Jugson left silently with a sneer on his face, shouldering past Draco who remained in the doorway until he had completely disappeared from the reception and was out of sight.
"What the hell happened?" he asked, shutting the door firmly behind him. "I told you to send a memo when—"
"I know," Hermione interrupted. As he hurried toward her, she removed the barrier from around her desk before it pushed him back too. He frowned, but Hermione ignored it and took his hand. "He would have felt attacked if you had been here, more so than he felt with only me."
"Hermione, you closed your door," Draco said, pulling her into his arms. "He could have done anything. If he had attacked you, no one would have known."
"I would have sent a patronus," Hermione mumbled. She wrapped one arm around his waist and cupped his face with her free hand. "There are wards around my office. You would have known the second he touched or cursed me."
"I told you to tell me," Draco repeated, narrowing his eyes but not pulling away. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was suspicious of his ties back to Malfoy Apothecary," she admitted. She hadn't been until she'd come across a note in his file the day before. "If you had been here, he would have never answered my questions."
"Malfoy Apothecary?" Draco asked. Hermione nodded. "He held a few stocks, but my father hardly spoke of him. What are you on about?"
"Well for starters, he lied," she said. She pulled away from him to grab her parchment of notes. Removing the secret-keeping spell, she said, "I asked about the murder and he confessed to it. Didn't take much at all."
Draco frowned, looking at her notes and the corresponding evidence that had appeared as she'd written down each of Jugson's answers. It was a tricky bit of magic, but having related evidence transcribe itself neatly next to her writing was a quick way to compare a witness's responses to what they already had.
"You don't think he did it," Draco stated. He set down her parchment and Hermione shook her head.
"He couldn't have," she replied. Despite Jugson's insistence, she knew he didn't do it. "If he was guilty, he wouldn't have offered up the information after evading Azkaban this long. He also lied about visiting Azkaban, so I would bet he'll be out of the country by tonight."
"I'll send a team to catch him," Draco told her, "At the very least, he admitted to a murder and can be held under arrest for such. I imagine you already have a plan for Azkaban, don't you?"
She nodded. "Yeah."
Draco sighed and glanced back down at the parchment before pulling Hermione back to his side.
With the hint of a smile, Draco asked, "Well, then can I at least interest you in lunch before you visit a prison? After all, we have to entertain the Potters for dinner and I'd like to have you all to myself for at least one meal."
Hermione smiled and pressed a warm kiss to his jaw.
"I'll grab my cloak."
* * * * *
While Draco took the afternoon to hunt Jugson around the country, Hermione finished up the report and arranged for a portkey to Azkaban. The only available portkey left an hour before work ended, but she agreed to take it anyway with the hope that she'd get closer to solving the case.
No matter how often she visited the prison, it never got better. The cold of the grey walls sucked any heat from her body even when she wore her warmest cloak was and the way the guards spoke to her in short, clipped sentences only added to the dreadful feeling. Checking in her wand was always uncomfortable and the guard who led her to the main visitor area couldn't seem to stop eyeing her. She was on business, though, so she complied with all rules without argument and ignored the way her escort looked at her.
"Visitor log is here, Miss Granger," the guard said, pulling out a dusty book. "All visits from the last fifteen years."
"Thank you," Hermione said, taking the book and walking over to a metal table.
While the guard remained standing, Hermione took a seat at one of the freezing metal tables and flipped through the thick parchment pages. The book was filled with both half-scribbled names and elegant print, but Hermione didn't stop to look until she reached the most recent page. The first visit had been catalogued at the very end of the previous December and only twelve visits had occurred since then.
There. Twice in a row, Hermione spotted A. Jugson signed at the end of the list. A closer look, however, showed two very different styles of writing.
While both the signatures from the first visit were the same, only the first signature from his second visit matched them. The penmanship of the second signature was noticeably different. And it had happened yesterday.
"Who did Jugson visit?" Hermione asked, not looking up from the book. "He came twice in the last week."
"I'm not at liberty to discuss that," the guard informed her. "If Mr Jugson did not write the reason for his visit, then it was likely a request from a prisoner."
"And who requested the visit?" Hermione demanded. The guard shrugged uselessly. "Get me someone who knows."
"Miss Granger—"
"It's Auror Granger," she interrupted, standing up from the table. "A man was murdered and I am working the case. You will tell me who Mr Jugson was visiting—both times—or I will report you to the Ministry."
"I'm not at liberty to say," the guard repeated. Hermione huffed.
Well, she'd certainly have to report back to Harry about the failure to follow protocol at the very least. At worst, they'd have to replace the corrupt Azkaban staff again.
"May I speak with Lucius Malfoy?" she asked, changing tactics on a dime. The guard raised an eyebrow. "He is linked to my case and I would like to question him regarding it."
"Very well," the guard grumbled. He left through the heavy doors into where the prisoners were kept while Hermione waited impatiently.
When the guard finally returned with Lucius Malfoy on his heels, Hermione frowned. The man certainly looked like Lucius, but the way he held himself was different. His shoulders were slumped forward and instead of raising his chin at her like he'd done ever since she first met the man, Lucius looked right at her.
"Miss Granger," he said shortly. The guard stood to the side as Lucius took a seat across from her. "What is this about?"
"Jugson is being tried for the murder of a muggle woman and his partnership with Malfoy Apothecary is under scrutiny," Hermione said bluntly. She watched Lucius's reaction carefully, her lips twitching into a frown as his eyes widened slightly.
"And what does that mean for me?" he asked, "I'm not sure how I'm involved."
"Have you received any visitors recently, Mr Malfoy?" Hermione asked, forging forward. "Has Jugson stopped by recently?"
"About the Apothecary? No, certainly not," Lucius replied. He sat perfectly still, but his shoulders were still slightly forward instead of pulled back.
"About other things, then?"
"No, I've been utterly alone," Lucius said. Hermione frowned. "What exactly is the point of this visit? If I'm not needed, I'm really rather thirsty and should be leaving."
"By all means, have a drink," Hermione insisted. She gestured to the guard who procured a glass of water. Lucius took it and set it on the table before reaching into the pocket of his prison robes.
"My medicine," he explained, pulling out a black vial.
He poured the contents of the vial into his glass, turning the water a strange silvery colour. In one solid motion, he drank the entire glass. For a moment, Hermione swore she saw a strange shift in his features as they became sharper. Her breath cut off sharply as she thought back to the mismatched signatures and Jugson's alleged potion skills.
"I was unaware you were on any medications," Hermione said slowly, eyeing the vial as he tucked it back in his pocket. "Do the healers visit you often or do you simply get your medicine through the Azkaban healers?"
Lucius hesitated.
"The Azkaban healers," he answered after a second.
Hermione's breath stopped. Something was very, very wrong.
"That is," Lucius said, seeming to sense he'd said the wrong thing. "They contact the healers at St. Mungo's and Azkaban brings them to me."
"Where is Lucius?" Hermione asked, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Miss Granger, I assure you—"
"Azkaban does not have healers, Mr Jugson," she said sharply. She stood up from the table and looked down at the masqueraded form of Lucius Malfoy. "Lucius Malfoy would have known that after being here for years, but you would not. Tell me: Where has Lucius gone?"
Jugson—who still wore the body and face of Lucius Malfoy—grinned up at her and chuckled quietly.
"You'll never find him," he whispered. His wicked grin looked up at her and despite knowing he could do nothing from where he sat, Hermione worried. "We're growing an army bigger than you'll ever imagine and when he's done, we'll kill you all."
"Lock him back up," Hermione ordered the guard, stepping away from Jugson. Her mind was running at a thousand words per second, but she couldn't seem to organise a coherent thought. "By order of the Ministry of Magic, this man is to not receive any more visitors unless sanctioned by the Ministry."
"Auror Granger, what—"
"Do it," she snarled at the guard. Without waiting to see if he followed her order, she left the visitor hall quickly and retrieved her wand. She didn't bother with a goodbye as she raced out of the prison and past the apparation point.
Draco would be home by now, but he wouldn't have realised that when he imprisoned Jugson, he had actually imprisoned his father. The wards would be lowered and Lucius was a skilled wizard even without a wand.
Almost frantically, Hermione apparated into the living room of their flat and called for Draco.
"Yes?" he replied, walking out from the kitchen. His sleeves were pulled down despite being in the kitchen and he was wearing slippers.
Hermione hesitated.
"What is it, Granger? You called like someone died and now you aren't speaking?" he said, a teasing grin on his face.
"How was your day off?" she asked hesitantly. Draco snorted and leaned against the frame of the kitchen.
"I was at work all day," he replied. A concerned look crossed over his face, but Hermione still didn't move toward him. "Are you feeling alright?"
Maybe it was the real Draco, but there was something off. The Draco she knew would never wear slippers in the house and preferred to keep his sleeves pulled back whenever he was cooking because he didn't like getting them messy.
"Yes, I suppose I'm just a little paranoid," she said carefully, still not letting her guard down.
"Work will do that sometimes," Draco said, walking back into the kitchen. Hermione followed. "Though, I do suppose this time it is warranted."
He turned on her so sharply and suddenly that Hermione didn't have time to reach for her wand before it was thrown across the room. With one hand, Draco pointed a wand at her head and used the other to shove her against the wall. His hand closed down around her throat and Hermione gasped.
"It's always you, Mudblood," he hissed, using an unfamiliar spell to keep her hands from hitting him. "I thought you'd figured me out in the Ministry. You were certainly suspicious enough after seeing the Dark Mark. I should have known polyjuice would react poorly to dark magic."
Hermione struggled to breathe as his hand tightened around her throat and her vision began to blur. Without warning, the hand around her throat disappeared and Hermione collapsed in a coughing heap on the ground. Above her, Draco's face hissed down at her.
"I underestimated you," he snarled, grabbing a fistful of her hair and Hermione was forced to look up into Draco's face. Despite knowing it was Lucius in a polyjuice potion, Hermione couldn't seem to look away. "You figured us out quickly, that's for sure. Asking about work," he chuckled and Draco's features shifted slightly as the potion began to wear off. "I would have gotten that one wrong if I hadn't run into Draco myself."
He pulled her up further and her scalp ached. Hermione fumbled for her wand, but Lucius immobilised her quickly.
"I promised I'd kill you," he whispered, dropping down to whisper in her ear. "Are you afraid yet? Can you see your death?"
"Fuck off," Hermione hissed. When Lucius pulled back, he was wearing his own face but she didn't have time to be thankful for it.
"Crucio," he murmured softly, eyes alight with fire.
A scream ripped through Hermione's throat without her permission. The long-familiar pain tore through her body with more vengeance than Hermione would have expected from the way Lucius had barely whispered the word. Her lungs ached as she screamed and she couldn't breathe through the attack. When the curse disappeared sharply, Hermione became suddenly aware of the wet tears on her face and the way her throat was scratchy.
Above her, there were two silvery figures but Hermione's vision was too blurry to make them out.
"How the fuck did you get out?" Draco snarled, slamming his father into the kitchen wall with a wave of his wand.
"Draco," his father acknowledged calmly. Draco sneered at him and drove the tip of his wand into his head.
"Tell me!" he screamed, panting slightly. When his father didn't answer, Draco stepped back and growled, "Legilimens."
The memories were well protected and it took Draco several tries to break through, but he was determined and not even his father would stop him from getting his answer. It took minutes to find the right memories, but soon he was watching through his father's eyes as Jugson walked into Azkaban twice. He watched them both take the polyjuice potion when the guards were gone and then lived through the memory of his father walking out of the prison as Jugson. When he pulled out of the memory, he sent his father crashing across the kitchen into the cupboards.
"You'll be killed for this," he promised harshly, towering over his father. "You'll never step foot out of that prison again even if I have to be your personal guard."
From the ground, his father just chuckled.
"You think that your Mudblood whore can keep you out forever too?" he taunted. His fingers reached for his fallen wand, but Draco splintered it before he could even touch it. "You'll be there with us too. One day you'll mess up, and when that happens, no one will be around to—"
"Malfoy!"
Draco whipped around to see Potter standing in the kitchen. Behind him, Weaselette was crouched beside Hermione and it took Draco a full three seconds to remember they were supposed to come for dinner.
"I'll kill him, Potter," he warned, his wand still pointed at his father. "I'm going to kill him."
"Get out," Potter said. He stepped aside so Draco could see Hermione better and said, "Take Hermione to St. Mungo's, and get out."
"If you don't make sure he dies, Potter." He left the threat unfinished, but Potter nodded in understanding.
As Potter stepped forward, Draco dropped to the ground beside Hermione. Almost immediately, she turned away from Weaselette and grabbed Draco's hands tightly. He gingerly combed one hand through her hair, but she grimaced at the contact and he recoiled.
"She's been crucio'd," Weaselette informed him.
The slight tremble in Hermione's hands confirmed her assumption and Draco felt his magic already threatening to lash out at his father again. Before he could, Weaselette grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her.
"Draco, get her to St. Mungo's," she instructed. "Harry and I can handle Lucius."
Draco fought her for just a second before agreeing. Ever so carefully, he gathered Hermione in his arms and lifted her up smoothly, pressing a desperate kiss to her forehead as she leaned into his touch.
"You better tell me exactly what happened after this," he murmured, as he stood in front of the Floo. "Merlin knows I won't sleep for weeks," he said, closing his eyes and holding her even closer to him as he stepped into the Floo and let it whirl them away to St. Mungo's.