29 May 2022

After spending two hours pouring over Burke’s personal file, Draco and Hermione had found two possibly suspicious details. First was the fact that he was the son of Caractacus Burke, one of the proprietors of Borgin and Burkes. Of course, it made sense that someone with lots of experience with rare magical items would be a natural in the Department of Mysteries. The second suspicious fact was that there was not a listing in his employment record of his wife’s name. Although his son, Liam, was listed as being a seventh year at Hogwarts, no mention was made of the boy’s mother. Draco and Hermione had decided to explore these points further once they arrived at the Ministry in the morning. Exhausted and ill with worry, the two of them had fallen asleep next to each on the bed in the hotel room.

It was close to seven in the morning when Harry returned to the room. “Hermione, get up,” he demanded shaking her awake.

“What?” she murmured, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes.

“We need to get back to the Ministry. The Unspeakables have been located, but Burke, Liam, and Scorpius were not with them. The Minister wants Flint’s interrogation to begin immediately. He’s hoping whatever information we can obtain will help us figure out what is going on with Burke. If there is a good chance we are going to have a break-through this morning and I need you there.”

She sat on the side of the bed, feeling groggy. “Let me wash up. I’ll be ready to leave in five minutes.”

Harry nodded and sat down after she’d left the room.

“Why would Burke have taken Scorpius with him?” Draco asked from where he lay.

“I’m not sure,” Harry replied. “It’s possible he realized that Scorpius had nothing to do with the attacks and was simply removing him and Liam from the premises.” He was silent for several seconds. “What’s going on between you and Hermione?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?! I come here and find you in bed together! Don’t tell me that nothing is going on.”

“Merlin, Potter, we were both completely dressed! When I storm the walls of Hermione’s virtue it won’t be in a room to which you have easy access, it won’t be while my son is missing, and it won’t be while she is too exhausted to appreciate my performance.”

“I noticed you said ‘when’ and not ‘if’.”

“What?”

“You said ‘When I storm the walls of Hermione’s virtue’ not ‘If I storm the walls.”

“I’m tired.”

“You want her.”

“This is none of your concern.”

“She’s my best friend, Malfoy. My sister. I won’t have her hurt.”

“Fuck, Potter, you are a complete wanker. Yes, I want her. Yes, I’m attracted to her. I know that I’m not near good enough, that I in no way measure up to Weasley, that I most likely will make her miserable in spite of my best intentions. But, as soon as I have a chance I’m going to pursue her, try to win her, and make her mine. If by some miracle I succeed, I’ll be the luckiest man in the wizarding world.”

Harry stared at him, not saying a thing.

Hermione emerged from the loo, her gaze wavering between the two of them. “Are we going?”

Harry nodded.

“I’m coming, too,” Draco stated.

“Impossible,” Harry said.

“Draco…” Hermione began softly.

“I’m coming. If you have to lock me in an interrogation room or send me down to the cafeteria, or do whatever else you do with your other secret consultants, I don’t care. I’m coming.”

0-0-0

Hermione was sick to her stomach. She, Harry, Draco, and Percy were watching the interrogation of Ethan Flint from behind a two-way mirror. Well, Harry and Percy were watching it. Hermione glanced up from time to time whenever the screaming and pleading stopped. Draco had viewed the scene for less than two minutes before he’d turned his back to the two-way mirror, his face a cold mask of indifference, and stood stone still.

“I don’t know why you are so upset, Hermione. It isn’t like we are using Unforgivables,” Percy stated with a slight edge to his voice.

Hermione glared at him. “Like that matters!”

"Legally it matters," Percy replied.

"Stuff it," Harry barked, focused on the scene playing out before him.

Flint’s questioning had begun under typical regulations. Aurors Dawlish and Robards were barking out questions, threatening a Dementor’s kiss if lied to, and threatening to bring in Flint’s parents and siblings if they didn’t get answers.

Flint had remained calm throughout, even after being given Veritaserum. He’d answered only those questions that did not implicate anyone and laughed off the threats to his family.

Eventually Dawlish had stormed out of the room, saying that he was going to seek permission for harsher interrogation measures to be used.

Flint hadn’t responded to the threat.

Robards had then assumed a helpful demeanour. "I know you want out of here. If you were just a bit more helpful we could close the case up. There is no reason to drag this out."

Flint had shrugged, not swayed by Robards’ words.

"We know you weren’t the mastermind behind these attacks. Just tells us the names of your accomplices and you can make things easier on yourself, easier on those you love."

"I have nothing to say," Flint had replied.

It was then that Percy had given the go ahead for the enhanced interrogation to begin. It had started with several painful hexes – a question and then a hex, a question and then a hex. It didn't matter whether the question was answered or not. At times the Aurors asked two or three questions in a row without hexing, but they would soon start again without any apparent plan or reason for their response.

"This is crazy," Draco had growled once. He’d become more and more twitchy as the interrogation continued.

"They are using variable ratio stimulus of operant conditioning," Percy replied. "A subject is more likely to respond when unsure whether or not he will be rewarded or punished for his behaviour. The subject eventually ends up doing what you want all the time as a means to get what they desire at least some of the time."

"You know an awful lot about this," Hermione commented looking at him suspiciously.

"We started doing research and analysis on harsh interrogation techniques after the attack on you. Muggles have been relying on these types of tactics for generations."

"These aren’t tactics," Hermione hissed. "It's torture."

"If it ends the killings and brings down the conspiracy, it's worth it," Percy replied.

Harry shook his head and looked back at the glass.

Flint let out a strangled scream.

"What's going on?" Hermione demanded to know, almost pressing herself up against the glass.

"They've increased the number of hexes they are using in a row," Percy told her.

Flint let out another cry.

"I'm going to be sick," she murmured, faintly.

It was then that Draco came up behind her, turned her away from the mirror, and made her sit down.

Flint screamed again and then began babbling. "There were three of us. We were able to operate without suspicion because of our age. We were going to stop after graduation. We just wanted to get back some respect for pure-bloods."

A Quick Quotes Quill in the room with the investigators took down his every word.

"Who are you working with?"

"Liam Burke and Nicholas Higgs."

Draco and Hermione turned back toward the window.

"The son of Director Max Burke?"

Flint nodded and then leaned over and vomited onto the floor.

They hit him with another hex, this one longer and more painful than previous attacks.

"Fuck! What do you want? I'm telling you what I know!" Flint screamed.

"Well, we don't believe you. We think there is more."

"No," he said. "I promise there isn't."

They hit him again and again.

“Burke has my son,” Draco murmured. It looked like he was going to be sick, too.

“What role did Max Burke play in your conspiracy?” Dawlish asked.

“No role. He isn’t involved.”

"Who have you taken orders from?" Robards asked.

"My grandfather and Liam’s grandfather," Flint gasped.

They hit him with a hex again.

"Harry, make them stop," Hermione moaned. "He's cooperating."

Percy shook his head. "We can't interfere. They have just cracked the surface."

Another scream came from behind the glass.

Hermione covered her ears with her hands.

An hour later, after Flint had passed out from the pain, Hermione went in search of Draco. He’d walked out of the room after Flint had named Harry Potter, Severus Snape, and Albus Dumbledore as his accomplices. In the end, Flint had been rambling dozens of names while begging the Aurors to stop the interrogation.

She found him in her office.

“Is it over?” he asked.

Hermione nodded, setting down the notes from the interrogation. "For the last half hour he was just saying whatever he thought we wanted to hear."

Draco nodded. "But before that, he gave you everything he knew."

Hermione shook her head. Everything Flint had told them could have eventually been acquired using the Ministry’s typical procedures. It would have taken longer, but it would have worked. Before Hermione could say as much to Draco, Harry rushed into the room.

“Burke just Floo’d into the lobby with Liam and Scorpius.”

Draco was on his feet in seconds and heading for the door.

“Malfoy, wait!” Harry interjected, grabbing him by the arm.

“Potter, if you don’t release my arm immediately, I’m going to draw my wand.”

“It’s about Scorpius,” Harry replied.

“What about him?”

“They are taking him to St. Mungo’s. He’s been tortured.”

Two Years Before

September 2020

Draco wrinkled his nose as he stepped into Hermione's home. Piles of books and papers littered the sofa, tables, and floor. Dirty dishes covered the kitchen counters. The blinds were pulled down and a layer of dust seemed to coat every surface. It looked like the flat a couple of young men just out of Hogwarts might share, not the home of one of the most powerful and influential witches in the Ministry.

It was obvious that Hermione had fallen into a severe depression once Rose and Hugo had returned to Hogwarts. This was the third Wednesday morning coffee meeting with Draco she'd missed in a month. He was determined to try and get her moving and focused again. Since she was trying to avoid him, he was forced to go to her.

"Granger!" he called out from the living room. His shout was met by silence.

"Granger!" he tried again, heading up the stairs that most likely led to the bedrooms.

He opened the first door on the landing and glanced in at what appeared to be Hugo's room. The next door had a plaque with Rose's name hanging on it. Behind the third door was a bathroom. Finally, the fourth door opened to Hermione's bedroom. As he suspected, she was curled up under the covers.

"Granger, this is unacceptable. You stood me up again! The ladies at the coffee shop are beginning to suspect that I can't find company and have started trying to chat me up about all sorts of unbelievably boring things. It is completely your fault. Now get up and shower and let’s go get some caffeine."

When Hermione didn't answer, Draco suddenly got nervous that she wasn't just upset, but had done something to herself.

Taking a deep breath, he sat on the bed and reached to pull the blankets back. Just as he grasped a corner, however, he heard a muffled grumble.

"What?"

Hermione finally poked her head out from beneath a pillow. "How did you get in here?"

"Scorpius told me how to lower the wards. Don’t ask me how he acquired that information, but I’d get them changed before you become a grandmother unexpectedly."

Hermione blinked. "Are Rose and Scorpius sleeping together?”

Draco shrugged. “I certainly hope not. They are much too young. However, right now I am not worried about them; I am worried about you. You have shut yourself off from everyone. You have taken a leave of absence from work, you've stopped returning Floo calls from family members, and you are avoiding me! Obviously, you are falling apart."

"It's none of your business, Malfoy."

"So what if it isn't my business? It wasn't your business when Astoria left me. It wasn't your business when Scorpius’ grades plummeted that year. It wasn't your business when Aurors hauled me in for questioning about Potter’s attack. However, in each of those instances, you didn't retrain from sticking your nose into the situation."

"I was just trying to make things better," Hermione sniffed.

"I know that now. I even - Merlin, I can't believe I'm saying this - appreciate it now. However, at the time, I thought you were an interfering bint. Nevertheless, you didn't let my opinion stop you and I'm not going to let yours stop me."

Hermione turned over on her side and stared at the wall. "It isn't the same thing at all, Draco. You hadn't done anything wrong. It wasn’t your fault that Astoria left. It wasn't your fault that Scorpius took out his unhappiness about the divorce by refusing to study. And it definitely wasn't your fault that you were targeted for questioning by the Aurors just because of your suspicious 'cooperative' behaviour."

"And it isn't your fault Ron is dead," he told her softly

"But it is! My children have lost their father, the Weasleys have lost another son, and I have lost my husband – the only man I've ever loved, all because of my stupid, self-righteous beliefs!"

"What in the world are you going on about?"

"I was the one who was so adamant about following standard procedures and not using Veritaserum on anyone without probable cause. After your interrogation, I set up so many protections for those submitting to voluntary interviews that I might as well have cast the killing curse on Ron myself. I should be the one who is dead. I am the one who made it all possible!"

"Get a hold of yourself, Granger!" Draco snapped completely horrified to hear her blaming herself for Weasley's death. “You are no more responsible for Ron’s murder than Potter, or the Minister, or Arthur Weasley. You could have gone after everyone with the slightest connection to Voldemort, locked them up, used vats of Veritaserum on them, and this still could have happened. It’s impossible to keep someone perfectly safe.”

“I could have done more. I should have done more.”

“Like what? Should you have not only forced me to take Veritaserum but forced it on everyone who’d ever taken the Dark Mark? Why stop there? Why not just lock us all up? Obviously, there is a chance we are still dangerous.”

“If it could have saved Ron, I should have done it.”

“What if that didn’t work? What if that hadn’t revealed anything? What then? Do you haul in the families – the wives and children – of former Death Eaters? Force people who have never been charged or suspected of wrong doing in their lives to talk? Should they have been subjected to questioning or maybe they should go straight to prison, too?”

“What if someone knew something, but I never talked to them? Or worse, what if I did talk to them, but they lied to me? I should have tried harder.”

“But you did try! You pushed, and Weasley pushed, and the entire Ministry pushed. Had you pushed any further, tried any harder, trampled over the rights of innocents searching for the guilty, where would you be now?”

“With my husband!”

“Maybe. But you’d still be unhappy. Not about his loss, but about the loss of your integrity and scruples.”

“I could live without them more easily than I can live without Ron.”

“Don’t be so sure, Granger. I tried living without mine for over two decades and there are few days that go by that I don’t deeply regret giving them up.”

Hermione didn’t speak, looking thoughtful at his words.

“Enough wallowing,” he drawled. “Take a shower and get dressed. We still have time for coffee.”

“I don’t want coffee,” she told him. “I want to wallow.”

“Granger, you can spend the rest of the week crying about your husband, wishing you were a stronger person, and being utterly self-absorbed and selfish. On Wednesdays, however, I expect you to pull yourself together and at least pretend you care about someone else’s problems. Namely mine! I have issues that need to be discussed. Now unless you wish me to lose complete respect for you, and since I didn’t have much to begin with you can’t afford to muck around, pull yourself together so we can go.”

“Stop being a jackass and go away.”

“I think we both know neither of those things is going to occur, primarily due to a distinct lack of desire on my part.”

Hermione buried her head beneath her pillows, seemingly determined to ignore him.

“Evanesco.”

“Hey!” she shouted, looking outraged despite of her red eyes and nose. “I loved that pillow.”

“The blankets are going next,” he replied calmly. “If you think this delaying tactic means that I’m going to end up buying you lunch, you can just forget it. We are going Dutch no matter what time we escape your hovel.”

“Please stop being so mean!” she cried.

Draco almost gave in; he almost gathered her into his arms and stroked her and hugged her and made promises that things would eventually get better, but he didn’t. She had all her ruddy Gryffindor friends to coddle her. He was not going to succumb to her weakness. “I have no idea what you are talking about. I am not treating you any differently than I ever have before. I don’t understand why you must whine now.”

Hermione pulled a blanket over her head. “Circumstances change people, Malfoy.”

“Yeah, wasn’t that my father’s argument at his trial as a Death Eater?”

Hermione pulled the blanket back down again. “You aren’t going to leave, are you?”

“My persistence is one of my best qualities.”

“Only because you have so few other good qualities to choose from,” Hermione mumbled.

Draco chuckled and then Vanished her blanket.

“Damn it!” Hermione shouted. “Fine! I’ll get up. Leave the room so I can shower.”

“I don’t think so,” Draco replied. “You’ve become notoriously unreliable, lately. I’d better remain just to make sure you follow through.”

“You realize I still have my wand, right?”

Draco blinked several times and then slowly rose from the edge of the bed. “Perhaps I’ll go wait in the sitting room.”

“Good call.”

Author’s Notes: Big thanks to my beta Kazfeist and my cheerleader thebigdisaster. Also to the reviewers who were so kind to leave me a note about what they liked about the story – alina290, CaramelWillow, TWN24, nmmi-nut, Sarcalogos, and voldyismyfather.