Y'all ask for it so I deliver. HERE WE GOOOOOO!!!!!
pls star because I'm giving you an extra chapter ❤️ you're welcome
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𝑵𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒗
Soft rays of sunlight bore through the dark green window curtains, warming her cheek as she lay on the mattress on the floor.
Draco still sat on the ground next to a freshly brewed cup of coffee, having filed each paper neatly into three categories: extremely influential, insignificant, and possibly useful towards the investigation.
"Morning sunshine," he exclaimed, taking a sip of his coffee as she stretched awake, burying her body back under the covers.
"Mind if I have a cup?" she pointed to his mug, combing out her morning hair with a quick wave of her wand.
"Go for it, but you'd have to go to Blair for cream and sugar. I don't take you as someone who likes your roast straight."
"Alright," she stood with a groan, taking a mug from his cupboard before striding towards the door.
"Hey, Cliffdane,"
She turned, "yes?"
"Selcouth told me to give you these. Brought em' in while you were asleep," he handed her a gun and badge from his desk, "forgot to give them to you yesterday."
"Thanks, just-keep them in here for now, I'll be back in a minute,"
She shut the door behind her, leaving him once again, alone.
He turned on the radio that sat on his desk, staring at the picture frame that sat right in front of his computer; him and his son.
She hadn't been wrong. He didn't love his wife. He loved his son. That was the only good thing that came from his marriage with Astoria. She was always distant from him; sex only to bear children and occasionally when he was angry.
He'd never hit a woman, of course. He might've been raised that way, but something in his heart never let him.
His entire marriage was built on sin; and yet he felt no guilt.
He had cheated. Multiple times. Not to purposefully be a dick, only to try to feel something. He felt nothing; nothing with Astoria, nothing with anyone else. At first he'd thought it was his wife's fault. Then, woman after woman, he realized it was himself.
Much to his dismay, he had to consult with a doctor to get a lust potion to be able to bear Astoria his children. He hated admitting it-Draco thought there was something wrong with himself-but he couldn't come. Or say, nobody could make him come. He had to do it himself.
He tried over and over again to feel something. Anything.
Yet somehow, the woman who had joined his unit team merely 36 hours ago had managed to make him feel more than he'd ever felt in his marriage of two years.
Something about her was incredibly nostalgic, as though he'd known her before.
He knew it wasn't love at first sight, exactly. It felt more like.. a sense of familiarity.
Somehow he found himself studying her plump lips, the rings on her fingers, her chocolate brown eyes. He'd known her. He had known her. He had known her before. He had known her, he just knew it.
He had known-
"Malfoy,"
She snapped him out of his thoughts, standing in the doorway, accompanied by a steaming mug of hot coffee.
"Sorry," he mumbled, "tired."
She gave a him small nod, sitting down with her legs crossed, their bodies separated merely by a sea of paper stacks.
They had five more stacks left.
"Are you sure you're alright?" She reached for the next file, but his hand brushed against hers and she backed away.
"Um-yeah, yeah I'm good," he exclaimed. She could swear she saw a light tinge of pink resting on his cheeks, taking the paper before sorting it into it's proper pile.
"Maybe it's your turn to take the mattress," she smiled softly, shaking her head.
"I'm alright, seriously," he said with a yawn, his chest puffing out as he stretched his arms, ruffling his hair with his fingers.
"You've gone through four stacks overnight, impressive."
"I'd say we make a pretty good team, but you were sleeping while I did all the work," he rolled his eyes, leaning against the front of his desk.
"yeah yeah, we've still got work to finish, let's get this over with," she exclaimed, their hands brushing against one another once again as his eyes met hers for a brief moment, before looking back down at the ground with a sigh.
............
"I think I found something," he patted the ground, motioning for her to sit next to him.
"What is it?" she stood from her spot across from him, taking a seat.
"It's a picture of him from the war, I don't recognize him. I had to fight for Voldemort, I knew nearly every death eater in his army, or so I thought at least, but I don't recognize him."
"Do you think his dark mark is a tattoo? What if he wanted to be part of the army but 'wasn't chosen' or something?"
"It's possible," he exclaimed, setting the paper down in the important section. "Were you part of Voldemort's army? I know you um.. have a dark mark."
"I was. Sort of. Why do you ask?" she was brought back to the memory of him holding her while she received it, the black ink bubbling into her skin as she cried.
"No reason. I just-I don't understand why I don't remember you. That's all."
"Oh," she said merely at a whisper, so quiet he almost missed it. "Agent Malfoy-"
"Please," his eyes met hers, "you can call me Draco."
"But you said-"
"Please. Say it."
It was then she noticed how close they were; every drop of oxygen had left her lungs as she stared up at him, his eyes wandering her sweet complexion.
"Draco," she said, looking down at the ground, avoiding his gaze; her eyes met his hands.
He'd taken his wedding ring off.
"Eyes on me, Cliffdane," he breathed, placing a finger under her chin to lift her gaze.
"Draco this is wrong," she whispered, staring into his azure eyes, clouded with yearning.
"No, no I have to do this," he cupped her cheek in his hand, "I work to profile criminals, Maybelle. You think I can't tell that there's something wrong? You think I can't tell by the way you've looked into my eyes with only regret and-and disappointment the entire time we've been sorting through these files? Something is wrong, Flower-fuck, why do I keep calling you that-" he exclaimed in agitation, "and I need to find out what,"
"I'm sorry," she whispered, a teardrop rolling down her cheek as his forehead pressed against hers, "but I can't-"
"Maybe-if I kissed you it would help me remember," he said softly, "you can't hide this anymore, I think-I think I've known for a long time that something's been missing. That you were missing,"
"Draco, you have a life now, I can't just-"
"A life I don't want," he pleaded, "please. Your perfume, your eyes, your everything.. just-please," his eyes began to fill with tears, their lips only inches away as they breathed the same air, something they'd both missed for the past two years in entirely different ways.
In that moment, Draco knew.
She was his home.
He just had to figure out how to unravel the clog in his brain.
Their lips inched closer and closer, mere centimeters away-
And his phone rang.
"Fuck," he muttered, quickly letting go of her cheek to answer it, "Malfoy."
"We've got a sighting, the rest of us are finishing up here, are you still at The Ministry?" Selcouth spoke from the other line.
"Yeah, I'm here with May-Agent Cliffdane,"
"I'll send you the address."
"We can be there now,"
"Alright, go, we'll meet you there."
Draco hung up.
"He's been sighted six miles away, let's go," he hooked his gun back on his hip, as did she, and their hands intertwined to apparate.
"I'll go around back, you go through the front, see if I can find a way in," she exclaimed, taking her gun from it's holster.
The Ministry had their guns manufactured with wand wood, enchanted to allow both bullets and spells to be shot from the weapon.
"We should wait for backup, Cliffdane,"
"We don't have time. This guy slipped through my fingertips once, I won't let it happen again," she made her way around the house, the evil of the night caving around her in a blanket of darkness.
She found an open window, quiet footsteps filling the house as she slid her body through the small frame, into the kitchen before making her way upstairs.
"Draco?" She whispered, gun and flashlight pointed as she entered a child's empty bedroom, the sheets covered in blood.
"Drac-"
"Shhh," a cold blade was held to her throat as she froze, Drahazan's free hand wrapping around her waist, taking the gun from her hand and taking it in his own. "Maybelle Cliffdane, what a nice surprise," he hissed, "a pretty little thing, aren't you? and a death eater, just my type," his hand groped her ass, making her writhe uncomfortably under his grasp, "but you fought for the order in end, didn't you?"
She remained silent.
"WHY DON'T YOU ANSWER MY DAMN QUESTION?!"
A cry left her lips as he slammed her body harshly against the wall, blood trickling from her now broken nose.
"Drop the knife," Draco snarled from the doorway, gun in hand, "Now."
"Well, well, well, Draco Malfoy," he drawled, turning with the blade still pressed against the sensitive skin on her neck, "here to protect your little missus, are you? Aw, wait, I forgot.. or should I say, you forgot?" the killer taunted him as May's vision began to blur in and out.
"Let her go or I'll blow your fucking head off, do you hear me?"
"Still so overprotective, and you don't even remember her. How... depressing."
"Give her back to me," Draco growled, "I swear to Salazar, I'll fucking gut you," his gunshot seared through the air, bullet flying into the glass window, shattering it's glass. Maybelle's body hit the floor with a thump as Drahazan apparated, now behind Draco, the silver blade to his neck.
He responded with a dark chuckle, "how about we make a deal? I'll tell you what you want to know, and let your missus live, if I get to play around with you."
"And you won't hurt her?" he was desperate, his gun at his side with a blade to his neck.
"I will, if you drop your weapon."
Reluctantly, his gun dropped to the floor.
"Good, good boy," Drahazan drawled, staring at May's limp body as he continued to pressure his blade against Draco's skin.
"So, go on, tell me before the other units show up," Draco muttered, trying to ignore the girl who lay half unconscious on the ground.
"Nuh uh uh," he tsked, "love makes you weak, boy. You proved that in sixth year, and you're proving it now," he gripped the back of Draco's neck harder.
"Oh yeah? Why's that?" Draco hissed, slowly reaching for the pocket knife that sat in his belt buckle.
"Because you could've blown my damn head off with that gun of yours, but instead you surrendered yourself to me without any questions asked to save her life,"
"Mhm," Draco hummed lowly, gripping the wooden handle, "are you sure about that?" he slammed the blade into Drahazan's thigh, causing him to stumble backwards as Draco crawled for his gun.
Before he could reach it, only mere inches from his fingertips, Drahazan had taken the knife from his limb, stabbing it into the back of Draco's shoulderblade.
Somehow, despite the blood trickling down his white dress shirt and the pain searing through his muscles, he didn't scream.
"So you do remember some things, yeah? I see you holding in your pain, so she doesn't panic.. or is that just your egoistic attitude trying to prove you're more of a man than you think you are?" The killer took a fistful of Draco's hair in his hand before slamming the side of his skull against the bedside table, falling limp on the ground next to his partner who's breathing had grown panicked, whimpering as she lay stuck in an unmovable body.
Sirens were heard after a snap of apparition, tears streaming down Maybelle's face as she watched blood from his wounds pool onto the floor. Draco's breathing grew ragged from the stab wounds, his hand reaching for hers across the blood stained, carpeted floor.
"It's...okay-Draco," she sobbed as her vision began to darken, sirens wailing out in the distance, "you are...going to be-okay.."
Her fingers intertwined in his, letting out a deep breath before the silent room was overtaken by the familiar smell of near death, blue and red sirens approaching the house where they lay still.
With her soft hand in his, her whimpers and assurances telling him he was going to be alright, her dark brown eyes full of tears, he'd never felt being stabbed more peaceful.
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