Muggle
Missing.
When Draco Malfoy woke up on June the third he expected it to be a day like any other. He opened his eyes and blinked blearily at the ceiling for a few moments wondering just how long he could lay there before he actually had to move. Then he decided, as he does every morning, that continuing to lie in bed for longer than necessary was a waste of his day and more importantly, his life, so he dragged himself out and into the shower.
Draco had a hard time doing that, relaxing. In his opinion the thought of having a quiet night in on his own or a lay in in the morning was simply ‘doing nothing’ and since he had fought so hard for his life, to be here still, to prove himself, he constantly felt like he had to keep moving. His father had expected for him to take over the family business after the war but after one day of sitting at a desk and tapping his fingers on his leg for a good half an hour he realised he couldn’t do it. He was suffocating in that huge room with the thirst to fight. It was difficult to get out of that mind frame after the war, the feeling that there was not peace, the need to always be looking behind you, in front of you, all around you. In fact, he was shocked by the shaking of his leg and the paranoid feeling that there was still more to do. That by not crawling through the dirt, breathing in the air that was filled with the blood, sick, guts of all the bodies around him, he was doing himself a disservice.
This quickly became a year of Draco’s life simply entitled, ‘The Year He Could Not (Or Would Not) Sit Still.’ In this year Draco travelled the world, experienced different cultures, was almost disowned by his father for straying into the muggle world more often than was expected (and then was told to continue to socialise with muggles after word got through to The Prophet, giving the Malfoy name a whole new light.) Granted it was not much. The Malfoy’s were still predominantly outcasts, but Draco’s adventurous nature that he had acquired was doing some good. It helped that his mother often had to remind her husband (in a way all wives do) that they owed their lives to the people who had stood up for them during their trials, and that most of those people were not pureblood's.
After ‘The Year He Could Not (Or Would Not) Sit Still’ Draco began to contemplate what do with his life. This contemplation ended shortly when he was approached by the Minister of Magic to train as an Auror. That, due to Draco’s upbringing and skill in the dark arts, he would be an asset to the team in understanding and taking down the enemy. Lucius sat Draco down to push him towards accepting the job but found, by the time Draco had visited, that he already had accepted it and was making plans to teach himself everything he missed during seventh year so he could take his N.E.W.T.S. That evening, Draco, Lucius and Narcissa had a small celebration. From Narcissa it was a small hug, a chaste kiss on the cheek and from Lucius a pat on the back, a reminder to visit them more often to update them on how the job was going. Lucius was on house arrest for seven years and Narcissa only left his side when it was absolutely vital. Both had their wands checked often to make sure they were not using any dark magic and despite the caution they were approached with, both of them had left that lifestyle behind. Still, sometimes it was hard. Sometimes they slipped up. Habits were hard to break.
Draco’s job, at first, was everything he’d hoped for. The training was exciting and fast paced. He was always moving, always alert, always awake, and that is exactly what he needed to keep occupied. To keep busy. To keep the memories at bay. The harsh winds biting at his face and the adrenaline surging through his body all the way to the tips of his fingers was what got him up every morning. It was exhilarating. The three years he spent training hardly felt like three years at all. Due to his experience as a Death Eater he got to lead most of the missions in capturing the remaining of Voldemort’s followers. While most people expected for Harry to kill Voldemort and the war be over it actually took many years to round everyone up. For once Draco felt important, respected, admired and not only by his family, but by his peers too. He was finally recognised for the good in his life, the good that he had done. From now on when his name was mentioned in The Prophet it was no longer alongside phrases of ‘pureblooded racist’, ‘son of death eater Lucius Malfoy,’ or ‘the victim of an unfortunate childhood,’ but ‘brave,’ ‘fighting for a new world,’ and ‘possible candidate for head Auror.’
Sometimes the phrases they described him by were a little Gryffindor, but he didn’t complain too much. He still very much acted like the Slytherin he was. There was no shouting or cheering or fist bumping when a mission was successful. Draco simply settled for a small nod or a pat on the back. He wasn’t about the engage in these huge displays of affection with his team and luckily, most of them understood that. He wasn't sure what went on in the other teams. He knew from what his peers had told him that the sort of Gryffindor behaviour he would not partake in was a huge part of Potter and Weasley’s celebrations whenever they used their awfully noble and obnoxious courage to save the wizarding world. Likewise their features in The Prophet were always a bit larger than Draco’s but he had a quiet determination about him to keep working to get to his one goal. Head Auror.
It was that morning, June the Third, that Draco started to hate his job. He didn't know to begin with because everything went so normally. His shower was mildly scalding, he brushed his teeth with such vigour and bared them to the mirror just to make sure they were still perfect (which of course they were), his clothes were laid out neatly by his house elf Suppy and his journey to work was exceedingly ordinary. No, there was nothing unusual about Draco’s morning.
The strangeness began, in fact, at twelve o clock precisely when he was called to the current Head Auror’s office. As he was walking he found himself side by side with Harry Potter.
“Malfoy.”
“Potter.”
And that was as far as their interaction went. They continued to walk alongside each other but the journey continued in silence. It was a lot better than how they used to converse with each other but there was still a long way to go. Not that it probably would go further. They were civil and that, for now, was that.
Gawain Robarbs booming voice was heard as Potter knocked, “Enter,” he exclaimed. Harry pushed the door open and walked through not bothering to hold it open. Draco was well prepared for this and caught it, walking through himself. They both made themselves comfortable in the chairs opposite Gawain and patiently waited for him to explain.
“I know you’re both wondering why you’ve been brought here. We’ve had a small issue recently. As you both know I am retiring soon and the position of Head Auror will need to be filled. You two are the most experienced Auror’s we have. The best, in fact. So know this before I continue,” Gawain directed his gaze onto Malfoy, “We will be watching the both of you very closely. Any fuck ups that reflect badly on us, on the department, will be noted.” Potter smiled smugly towards Draco who glared in response.
“Of course not, Sir. I can’t speak for Malfoy, but you know I will work to the best of my abilities.”
“Likewise.” Draco said and raising his left eyebrow continued, “What’s the job?”
Gawain sighed and picked up a folder, opening it and taking out a few sheets of paper. He rubbed his forehead and then opened his mouth to speak, “We’ve been having a situation recently. A few muggle-born witches and wizards have gone missing-” Potter went white, “And we have no idea why. We’ve managed to track a few and have locations but we need to approach these individuals sensitively and try to discovered why this has happened and bring them back.” As he said this he began to hand out the sheets of paper to the two boys, “Here is a list of the names of those missing.”
Draco flittered through the list, simply taking in facts, names, locations. His brain however was churning with all this information. Muggle-born's? Why now? Why four years after the war had ended? Most of the Death Eaters had been rounded up by now. So why was this happening? He couldn’t help but notice on second glance that the list was awfully short. Only fourteen names filled the list. Was this really such a ‘situation’ that needed their immediate attention? Next to him he heard Potter’s sharp intake of breath.
“Hermione?”
Draco’s eyes scanned the page again. Yes. Hermione Granger was on the list. He chuckled lowly, “Are you telling me Potter, that you didn’t even noticed your beloved bush haired know it all has gone missing? That’s rich. Surely Weasel would have realised his girlfriend hasn’t been around in a good few days-,”
“Hermione’s been gone for weeks Malfoy. She said she was going on holiday to Australia. To see her parents. They stayed there after the war-,”
“As much as I want to hear you rattle on about dearest Granger, I’d like to get on with the task at hand.” Draco muttered, grey eyes glaring into green. He focused his gaze back onto Gawain after that who was staring at them both, face pulled down into a frown. Harry immediately quietened down, clearly not wanting to ruin his chances at becoming Head Auror. Draco continued on, chuckling more, “Isn’t this a conflict of interest anyway? Potter traipsing around the UK, maybe even Australia, looking for Granger? He knows her personally, his feelings are involved-,”
“I’m aware of that Mr. Malfoy,” Gawain said, smirking at the boy with a devilish glint in his eyes, “That is why you are the one who will be looking for her.”
Bollocks.
Draco had a hard time doing that, relaxing. In his opinion the thought of having a quiet night in on his own or a lay in in the morning was simply ‘doing nothing’ and since he had fought so hard for his life, to be here still, to prove himself, he constantly felt like he had to keep moving. His father had expected for him to take over the family business after the war but after one day of sitting at a desk and tapping his fingers on his leg for a good half an hour he realised he couldn’t do it. He was suffocating in that huge room with the thirst to fight. It was difficult to get out of that mind frame after the war, the feeling that there was not peace, the need to always be looking behind you, in front of you, all around you. In fact, he was shocked by the shaking of his leg and the paranoid feeling that there was still more to do. That by not crawling through the dirt, breathing in the air that was filled with the blood, sick, guts of all the bodies around him, he was doing himself a disservice.
This quickly became a year of Draco’s life simply entitled, ‘The Year He Could Not (Or Would Not) Sit Still.’ In this year Draco travelled the world, experienced different cultures, was almost disowned by his father for straying into the muggle world more often than was expected (and then was told to continue to socialise with muggles after word got through to The Prophet, giving the Malfoy name a whole new light.) Granted it was not much. The Malfoy’s were still predominantly outcasts, but Draco’s adventurous nature that he had acquired was doing some good. It helped that his mother often had to remind her husband (in a way all wives do) that they owed their lives to the people who had stood up for them during their trials, and that most of those people were not pureblood's.
After ‘The Year He Could Not (Or Would Not) Sit Still’ Draco began to contemplate what do with his life. This contemplation ended shortly when he was approached by the Minister of Magic to train as an Auror. That, due to Draco’s upbringing and skill in the dark arts, he would be an asset to the team in understanding and taking down the enemy. Lucius sat Draco down to push him towards accepting the job but found, by the time Draco had visited, that he already had accepted it and was making plans to teach himself everything he missed during seventh year so he could take his N.E.W.T.S. That evening, Draco, Lucius and Narcissa had a small celebration. From Narcissa it was a small hug, a chaste kiss on the cheek and from Lucius a pat on the back, a reminder to visit them more often to update them on how the job was going. Lucius was on house arrest for seven years and Narcissa only left his side when it was absolutely vital. Both had their wands checked often to make sure they were not using any dark magic and despite the caution they were approached with, both of them had left that lifestyle behind. Still, sometimes it was hard. Sometimes they slipped up. Habits were hard to break.
Draco’s job, at first, was everything he’d hoped for. The training was exciting and fast paced. He was always moving, always alert, always awake, and that is exactly what he needed to keep occupied. To keep busy. To keep the memories at bay. The harsh winds biting at his face and the adrenaline surging through his body all the way to the tips of his fingers was what got him up every morning. It was exhilarating. The three years he spent training hardly felt like three years at all. Due to his experience as a Death Eater he got to lead most of the missions in capturing the remaining of Voldemort’s followers. While most people expected for Harry to kill Voldemort and the war be over it actually took many years to round everyone up. For once Draco felt important, respected, admired and not only by his family, but by his peers too. He was finally recognised for the good in his life, the good that he had done. From now on when his name was mentioned in The Prophet it was no longer alongside phrases of ‘pureblooded racist’, ‘son of death eater Lucius Malfoy,’ or ‘the victim of an unfortunate childhood,’ but ‘brave,’ ‘fighting for a new world,’ and ‘possible candidate for head Auror.’
Sometimes the phrases they described him by were a little Gryffindor, but he didn’t complain too much. He still very much acted like the Slytherin he was. There was no shouting or cheering or fist bumping when a mission was successful. Draco simply settled for a small nod or a pat on the back. He wasn’t about the engage in these huge displays of affection with his team and luckily, most of them understood that. He wasn't sure what went on in the other teams. He knew from what his peers had told him that the sort of Gryffindor behaviour he would not partake in was a huge part of Potter and Weasley’s celebrations whenever they used their awfully noble and obnoxious courage to save the wizarding world. Likewise their features in The Prophet were always a bit larger than Draco’s but he had a quiet determination about him to keep working to get to his one goal. Head Auror.
It was that morning, June the Third, that Draco started to hate his job. He didn't know to begin with because everything went so normally. His shower was mildly scalding, he brushed his teeth with such vigour and bared them to the mirror just to make sure they were still perfect (which of course they were), his clothes were laid out neatly by his house elf Suppy and his journey to work was exceedingly ordinary. No, there was nothing unusual about Draco’s morning.
The strangeness began, in fact, at twelve o clock precisely when he was called to the current Head Auror’s office. As he was walking he found himself side by side with Harry Potter.
“Malfoy.”
“Potter.”
And that was as far as their interaction went. They continued to walk alongside each other but the journey continued in silence. It was a lot better than how they used to converse with each other but there was still a long way to go. Not that it probably would go further. They were civil and that, for now, was that.
Gawain Robarbs booming voice was heard as Potter knocked, “Enter,” he exclaimed. Harry pushed the door open and walked through not bothering to hold it open. Draco was well prepared for this and caught it, walking through himself. They both made themselves comfortable in the chairs opposite Gawain and patiently waited for him to explain.
“I know you’re both wondering why you’ve been brought here. We’ve had a small issue recently. As you both know I am retiring soon and the position of Head Auror will need to be filled. You two are the most experienced Auror’s we have. The best, in fact. So know this before I continue,” Gawain directed his gaze onto Malfoy, “We will be watching the both of you very closely. Any fuck ups that reflect badly on us, on the department, will be noted.” Potter smiled smugly towards Draco who glared in response.
“Of course not, Sir. I can’t speak for Malfoy, but you know I will work to the best of my abilities.”
“Likewise.” Draco said and raising his left eyebrow continued, “What’s the job?”
Gawain sighed and picked up a folder, opening it and taking out a few sheets of paper. He rubbed his forehead and then opened his mouth to speak, “We’ve been having a situation recently. A few muggle-born witches and wizards have gone missing-” Potter went white, “And we have no idea why. We’ve managed to track a few and have locations but we need to approach these individuals sensitively and try to discovered why this has happened and bring them back.” As he said this he began to hand out the sheets of paper to the two boys, “Here is a list of the names of those missing.”
Draco flittered through the list, simply taking in facts, names, locations. His brain however was churning with all this information. Muggle-born's? Why now? Why four years after the war had ended? Most of the Death Eaters had been rounded up by now. So why was this happening? He couldn’t help but notice on second glance that the list was awfully short. Only fourteen names filled the list. Was this really such a ‘situation’ that needed their immediate attention? Next to him he heard Potter’s sharp intake of breath.
“Hermione?”
Draco’s eyes scanned the page again. Yes. Hermione Granger was on the list. He chuckled lowly, “Are you telling me Potter, that you didn’t even noticed your beloved bush haired know it all has gone missing? That’s rich. Surely Weasel would have realised his girlfriend hasn’t been around in a good few days-,”
“Hermione’s been gone for weeks Malfoy. She said she was going on holiday to Australia. To see her parents. They stayed there after the war-,”
“As much as I want to hear you rattle on about dearest Granger, I’d like to get on with the task at hand.” Draco muttered, grey eyes glaring into green. He focused his gaze back onto Gawain after that who was staring at them both, face pulled down into a frown. Harry immediately quietened down, clearly not wanting to ruin his chances at becoming Head Auror. Draco continued on, chuckling more, “Isn’t this a conflict of interest anyway? Potter traipsing around the UK, maybe even Australia, looking for Granger? He knows her personally, his feelings are involved-,”
“I’m aware of that Mr. Malfoy,” Gawain said, smirking at the boy with a devilish glint in his eyes, “That is why you are the one who will be looking for her.”
Bollocks.