The Stakeout
Thursday morning Draco watched Goyle pace in his office like a caged animal. Giving him the night to carry out orders and calm down was a mistake, evidently, even the night with his spouses wasn’t enough to cool his fury at Baldock. It was understandable, Goyle watched his mother regularly abused by his father growing up, ending up on the wrong side of his father’s anger often enough that he was permanently scared of ending up exactly like the vicious man. Crabbe confided in him that Goyle traveled to Azkaban to poison the sick bastard of a father, trying to find a way to get him to talk to a mind-healer. After they found Romilda, Goyle was finally convinced to go, and start healing his scars.
Crabbe and Romilda had helped him through a lot of it, but he was still prone to exploding when he was confronted with the despicable wizards who perpetrated the acts.
“You should’ve let me kill him,” Draco could see the darkness taking over his friend as he sat observing the pacing wizard, “You know that the Wizengamot isn’t going to do shit, you know that, Drake,”
Goyle ran his hands through his hair, his button-up rumpled and untucked, “That bastard is going to walk, take the money, and hurt someone – probably his wife or kid,” ten of his long strides and he reached the left side of the room before turning back, wearing a hole in his carpet.
Draco was considering getting him tea with a strong calming drought, “Men like him don’t stop, we know this, Drake, they just keep hurting the people around them until they're dead,” he kept muttering to himself when he wasn’t talking out loud, his old friend was spiraling. The last time he’d seen him this bad, Goyle had to be checked into the mind-healing ward of St.Mungo’s.
At least this time it’s not his fear of becoming his father, “Moppy,”
The pop of apparition in the middle of the room stopped Goyle in his tracks, the elf’s adorable puffy plaid dress a much-needed sight, “Some tea please, and a calming drought,” Goyle glared at him.
“I don’t need that, Drake,” as soon as the elf nodded and disappeared with a pop his pacing continued across the room.
“Goyle,”
“Drake,” He mocked.
“Sit,” a wave of his hand pushed the chair across the room, into his path.
Goyle scoffed at the chair, dropping into it hard and fixing him with a glare.
Draco leaned onto the desk, “Greg, I’m concerned,”
He scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“I’m serious, Greg,” he dismissed his friend’s anger with a glare of his own, “The last time I saw you like this, you slit your own wrists in my bathroom,”
“Drake, I’m not gonn—“
“Sure, but last time, I was worried, and clearly, I wasn’t worried enough,”
Goyle’s leg bounced irritatingly, his hand rubbing down his face, “Fine, but Draco, we should’ve done more. We can do more,”
“And we will,” Draco got up from his chair, Moppy apparating in with a tray of tea floating with her. After setting it on the desk in front of them before quickly popping back out, the anger of the wizard in his office made her nervous. Draco picked up the calming drought from the tray, setting his hand on Goyle’s shoulder “But right now, I need you to pull it together,”
Goyle sighed, covering his face with his hands, the large man was in distress, and he’d learned early on never to show that to other wizards.
He pulled up the other guest chair in front of him, “Your husband and wife need you to pull it together,” He said softly, Goyle’s gasping breaths sounded from beneath his hands before he reluctantly pulled one away, taking the potion.
Draco watched him carefully as he shakily uncorked the bottle, chugging the contents with a shuddering swallow, “Better?”
Greg’s fist reared back, angrily throwing the empty glass across the room, “No! Of course, it’s not! How am I going to do my job now?! I can’t do it while I’m knocked the fuck out, Drake!”
He took a deep breath, keeping his eyes on Goyle’s scowling ones, “How do you do your job while you’re having a godsdamned panic attack, Greg?”
The wizard’s furious scowl broke, finally showing the broken, empty man underneath, the tears finally flowing with great breaths wracking through his ribs. Draco’s hand took Goyle’s shoulder again, the firm grasp giving him support through his troubles. The emotions overflowed from his face in gasping sobs, unable to gain his normally iron-willed control. His hands clutching his short hairs so hard Draco thought he’d pull them straight from his head. Draco’s hold of his shoulder kept him upright, taking the time to just sit with him through the silent screaming of his emotions.
The minutes stretched into an hour before the calming drought finally seemed to do its job, his breathing returning to slower hiccuping gasps, tears drying to tracks on his cheeks. His face finally relaxed as his head shook, “What am I gonna do, Drake?” his whispered rasp loud in the room.
“You’re going to do the same thing we always do, Greg, survive,” his quiet response echoing, reaching for the muggle cell phone on his desk, “But, for now, we’re going to work through this, the same way we did last time,”
Goyle’s head nodded as he sank further into his chair, despair encompassing his person.
“I’m going to call Vin and Romilda,” Draco nodded towards the phone in his hand, “I’d like you to take a few weeks, we have a residence in the Scottish Highlands, I’d like you guys to go there,”
Greg’s eyes rounded hearing his words, “But what about working, we need to be collecting,”
Draco’s head shook, “Nott can take over the enforcement duties for a while, I need you to go somewhere where you can relax for a while. I’ll talk with Vin, and make sure everything is taken care of,” Goyle’s breathing was speeding up again.
“You’re firing me?”
“No. No, no one’s getting fired, I just want you to take your husband, take your witch, and relax for a bit,” Draco’s head shook, “You really think I’m going to fire one of my oldest friends?”
Goyle’s head shook as his breathing seemed to calm again, letting out a short mirthless chuckle, “Of course not,”
“So then, go,” he poured the tea, “Get your head on straight, play ‘breed the willing witch’, relax with your family,” he extended a cup to Greg’s shaking hands, “And then come back do the work that you’re best at,”
He sighed, letting the tea warm his hands, “You’re right,”
Draco nodded, “I am,” he confirmed, “And I know Baldock will probably walk, but when he does, you’ll be there, to set things right,”
Goyle’s eyes met his, the fire behind them burning at hearing the bastard’s name, “And the check?”
“Will mostly go to his ex-wife and child,” Draco nodded, “I’ll take our share, then send the rest to them as an anonymous donation,”
His head nodded in agreement, “Good,”
Draco's hand started dialing the device, “I’m going to pull Crabbe and Romilda in now,”
His face returned to his hands, hastily setting the teacup on his desk with a splash, “No, I-How can I face them right now?”
Draco gave his shoulder a squeeze, “Greg, Vin has been there for you through all of it, and Romilda has seen you on your absolute worst days, they love you, and they’re not going anywhere, what does your mind healer say?”
His breath shuddered through his hands again, “My partners are a gift, and our vulnerability makes us stronger,” he quoted diligently.
“Exactly, they love you and want to support you, hard times and good, that’s what you promised to each other, not one or the other,”
He sat up again, pushing out another breath, trying to control it and keep himself calm, before giving Draco a nod to keep calling them.
After his agreement, Draco hit the call button, letting his hand keep lending his friend support in the meantime.
Theo landed directly next to him, quickly keeping up with his fast stride walking to the remote residence in Feldcroft. He’d understood how the young Hogwarts professor managed to keep up with supply and teaching at the same time, but he’d never had an issue with the supplies from Longbottom.
The strong wards echoed as they passed, had they been any later Draco was sure they would have been toasted before setting foot on his lands.
Bypassing the cottage sitting in front, they opted to walk around back, his old schoolmate didn’t take his meetings in the house, opting for the greenhouses disillusioned out back. After another round of wards, Theo knocked on the door.
It quickly opened, revealing Neville as he strolled through the rows of poisonous and rare herbs, spraying and stroking the leaves as he went.
He jerked his chin to Draco, “Malfoy, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Longbottom,” He gave a nod, “Since moving back to London, our sales have been rising, I’m here to negotiate a new supply agreement,”
He shook his head thoughtfully, quietly continuing to examine his plants, Draco and Theo throwing a glance at each other.
“Selling in London, right?” his deep voice echoed quietly throughout the glass walls.
“London, yes, mostly in the entertainment district or shipped to Paris to be sold around the clubs there,” Theo chimed in.
“As long as it’s limited to the partying population, I don’t have any objections,” His attention finally finding the two men, “However, increasing supply may be an issue, Prewett introduced himself recently, asking for supplies for his potions as well,”
Draco’s face immediately stilled, freezing his reaction to the news, “Prewett’s selling Baneberry?”
Longbottom made a noise of affirmation, “Can’t say I’m happy how close I’ve noticed his sales, but he’s stayed out of Hogsmead and away from students, so I can’t complain too much,”
His veins must’ve lit on fire, Prewett, the bastard, was infiltrating his territory.
“Said he saw a hole in the market,” Longbottom was turning back to mist water on one of the nightcaps they were next to, “Offered a few of his men to help me out with poaching around here,”
“Hole in the market? There’s no hole,” Theo was fuming next to him, quickly quieting after he placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Helping with the poachers?” Draco scratched his chin, “And if I would offer additional men to help with poaching and a higher price, what would happen?”
Neville finally walked to the cabinet nearby, putting away his sprayer, scratching his chin as he leaned against one of the benches outlining the house, “Malfoy, I can appreciate your practices, but the agreement has been made,”
“We can offer additional protection as well,”
He chuckled watching Draco, “I’m not scared of Eugene Prewett, Malfoy, I’m perfectly willing to renegotiate with him at the end of the month, however, since the dealings have been made this month, my product has been accounted for,”
Malfoy’s hand combed through his hair, ready to yell, “Fair enough, Longbottom, owl me with your demands on what your full stock would cost next month, we’ll send someone over to help with the Poachers as soon as we can spare one,”
Theo’s glare turned on him as he gripped the man’s shoulder before dragging him out of the greenhouse, avoiding Neville’s amused look as they left.
As soon as they stepped past the wards onto the property, Malfoy’s hand dug around in his coat for his cigarettes, handing one off to Theo before lighting one for himself.
He took a deep drag before nodding to his friend, “Alright then, out with it,”
“Fucking Prewett, you’re just going to let him take baneberry that should be ours?” Theo raked his hands through his hair, “Infiltrating our territories, you heard Longbottom, they’re getting too close to Hogwarts,”
He held his hands up, trying to get Theo to calm down, “Nott, calm down. We forgot that as I was operating out of Calais, some of the competition didn’t take our operation seriously. But don’t challenge Longbottom, the last time someone confronted him in his greenhouse he was fed to the venomous tentacula,” he strolled along the fields, observing the small village below them, “Why don’t you start looking into Prewett and the Dugogs, figure out what they’re selling and where,”
Theo nodded, face tight like he was prepping for a fight, “I’ll figure out where they’re operating out of, then we can shut it down,”
He pointed back at Theo, his dart between his fingers, “Exactly, figure out their operations, we’ll make sure they end, in the meantime, let Blaise, Pucey, and Flint know to keep an eye out for their distributors,”
Theo’s stressed face turned into a grin, “You got it, what’re we going to do with Crabbe and Goyle gone for the next few weeks?”
“Gather the information, by the time we’re ready to pull Prewett they’ll be back,” Nott nodded before apparating away.
He watched Theo disappear before turning back to the village, watching the hustle and bustle of the residents around the town, before running his hands through his hair again, letting the dart rest in between his lips. As soon as he came back to London, operations went into the shitter. His top loan enforcers were currently MIA to take care of Goyle’s emotional issues, his distributions of Baneberry potion were about to take a major hit, and his witch was so far out of his reach, that he just laid awake in the middle of the night, plotting about how to change that.
In fact, her absence has been perpetually driving him closer to the brink of desperate actions. How angry would she really be with him if he just snapped her up one day? Draco shook his head at the thought, he had no intentions of sinking to his grandfather’s level. He was obsessed with his grandmother to an almost scary degree, even into their later years when Draco could remember.
He chuckled at the memory, his grandmother had never given the elder Malfoy the time of day, rebuffing him at every turn. He’d had the garden around Malfoy manor replanted just to have her visit for tea, only for his grandmother to wave him off and opt for his great-grandmother’s acidic company instead.
The arrogance in his family must’ve been passed down because when his grandfather had found her in the middle of her wedding to a man she’d hated, he kidnapped her as she walked down the aisle. In hindsight, not the best-laid plans, but the Malfoy line couldn’t claim any type of comprehensive thought when their wives were involved. When he had been a boy, invited to one of his first business dinners with his father and grandfather, one of their partners made an insinuation about the “fuckability of Malfoy wives”, the next morning the elves were still cleaning the blood stains from the sitting room.
There was no doubt he would have his own challenges cut out, especially when dealing with blood purists, but his correction would be far more comprehensive than two men who made sexually suggestive comments to his wife. For now, though, his biggest problem was that his witch refused to see him ever since they’d spent the best night of his life together.
Now that the ginger witch has gotten to her, his plans will have to change. There wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that the ginger had told her the rumors surrounding his family. It never mattered what the circumstances were, the Malfoy family had fallen from grace, and the worst version of every story surrounding them was officially circulating again.
He dragged a hand down his face, if she wasn’t pregnant yet, then there was a solid chance that he would never see her again. He had to figure out how to get her into his bed once and for all, his business was suffering while he spiraled further into his obsession.
The muggle phone rang, interrupting his thoughts, “Mr. Malfoy, Miss. Granger is on the move, we saw her leave the Potter residence and apparate, she’s been spotted in Diagon heading towards Knockturn Alley,”
Draco sighed, taking a final drag before tossing his cigarette into the grass, “Shit, keep eyes on her, I’ll be there as soon as I can,”
Hermione groaned looking down Knockturn Alley, she had very little desire to venture into the underground of the Wizarding society. Her report to the minister had apparently not been enough, the Wizengamot council had thrown out her search request in less than an hour and Dawlish was still not found. This left her with... a strong suspicion, which was constituted of one person and no information regarding activities. On top of that, every time she looked out her window or peeked out the door of Grimmauld Place it was like she could feel Malfoy’s eyes on her.
He plagued her dreams and infiltrated her thoughts with every step she took, twisting and writhing in her sheets until she finally gave up on sleep, her ass burning from the ghost of his hands and body unfulfilled, finally giving up on sleep in the early hours of the morning. She knew her movements were going to be reported to him, could feel her blood pressure skyrocket at the thought of seeing him. Even this morning Ginny had given her a knowing smirk when she’d gotten caught reliving her dreams during breakfast.
Her heels clicked down the alley as she looked for the known informant in the area. Hopefully, with a little luck and her help from Roberts, she could get a solid lead on what was going on.
Ducking into the alley a few shops over from Borgin and Burkes she saw a hooded figure across from her. Hermione’s eyes honed in on the figure, taking a tentative step, before the hood was thrown back, the silver hair glinting in the darkness.
Her eyes rounded as Malfoy stalked over to her, “Out for an afternoon stroll to Borgin and Burkes?” he closed in, backing her against the wall.
“Malfoy,” her voice came out, barely a whisper, the feeling of his body overtaking hers muddling her brain. She cleared her throat, “I’m in the middle of an ongoing investigation,”
“And you come into the middle of Knockturn Alley to investigate Ministry corruption?” his scowl pinned her against the wall as he took another step.
“Yes, Knockturn Alley is a known underground for multiple large suppliers of illegal materials,” she braced herself, trying to voice confidence that she didn’t have.
Malfoy nodded, “Of course, and the fact that it happens to be the perfect place to assassinate an Auror, just happens to be a coincidence,”
She rolled her eyes, before his hand gripped her chin, forcing her gaze back to him, “Fu—Witch, do you have any idea how hard I’m trying to make sure you stay alive while you apparently want to go waltzing into enemies?” His eyes were stone cold as he glared down at her.
Hermione gripped his wrist as she met his eyes, “As we’ve established, Malfoy, I am more than capable of looking out for myself without you and you’re little cadre of men following me,”
She watched as he pushed back from the wall, raking his hands through his hair, “Woman, I don’t care what you’re capable of, I care that you’re fucking safe,”
“I didn’t take this job to stay safe, Malfoy, I took it to put an end to the misuse of power and corrupted officials,”
His intense gaze snapped back to her, “And to get yourself killed in the process,”
Hermione rolled her eyes again, “I’m done with this conversation, Malfoy, my investigation is currently at a standstill, so I’ve got to change that,”
“Oh, because you didn’t get a search order to tear apart my home, now you’ve got to poke around Knockturn?” she looked at her shoes, as Malfoy chuckled darkly, “Didn’t think I would hear about that?”
She sighed, “Not that it’s any of your business, Malfoy, but yes, along with the fact that my suspect is currently missing,”
Hermione could have sworn she heard him growl, “Go home, Granger,” her eyes dilated, the memories of his hand slamming into her ass, whispering the obscene things he wanted to do to her in her ears, “You’re making more work for me,”
She sank against the wall as his dragonhide boots tapped down the alley, disappearing as he apparated with the click of his cigarette case. Her shaky breath rushed from her lips, the controlling bastard lived to confuse her and befuddle every sense she had.
Struggling to regain her thoughts, she finally straightened up, reaching for whatever common sense she had left and trying to categorize her mental to-do list. Meet with the informant, stake out the most recently reported location of the distribution of potions matching ingredients going missing, arrest any buyer or seller found, hyper fixate on the perfect curve of Malfoy’s mou—fuck. Shaking her head, and adding get rid of Malfoy to her mental list, her heels clicked back down the alley, pulling up her hood as she entered main Knockturn again.
The crowds bustled through the tight confines, climbing the stairs back to Diagon, each one slimier than the last. Finally stepping past the dirty entryway to Borgin’s, Hermione skated into the safe confines of the space between shops, a brunette wizard waiting for her.
“Zakir Rushden?” she kept the dark hood of her plain robes up, as the twitchy guy nodded at her quickly.
“Roberts told you about the deal we have?”
Responding with a nod of her own, “I’ll give you ten galleons for each confirmed location you give me,”
Zakir’s mouth nearly watered, before shaking his dirty head, “Show it to me?”
Hermione glared, taking out a coin purse and giving it a small shake. The wizard resembled the rats scurrying past them in the alley, down to the dirt crusting his fingers and the twitch that accompanied the abuse of Barrufio’s Brain Elixir. She could nearly see his eyes dilate seeing the bag.
“They’re selling Baneberry down the road, the tattoo parlor, Billywig’s – I think,” Rushden’s feet quickly went up to her, stopping a few feet away, hand outstretched for his payment before Hermione jerked her hand back.
“I don’t care about Baneberry,” she deadpanned, looking down her nose at him.
Zakir jerked away, scratching at his arms, withdrawals going well then, the bland thought running through her head as his jerky motions, conveyed his addiction all too clearly, “That’s not fair!” His whispered screams echoed loudly through the tiny passageway, “I’ve been sitting on this location forever, bruv,”
She sighed, “Then I’ll happily inform Roberts and, if he feels the need to, he’ll come and pay you for it. However, it’s not the least bit useful to my investigation,”
He moaned loudly, fingernails digging into his forehead, “I-I, what’re you looking for then?”
“Well, you clearly know where to get Baruffio's…” Her voice trailed off as his whine keened from his throat.
“I can’t give him up!”
Her eyes rolled at the sad wizard, “Then what about rarities?” her eyebrow rose in question, “Say things needing Dragon eggs?”
Zakir’s eyes rounded looking at her, “Potions with d-dragon eggs?”
Her blank face scanned the spiritless man, “Yes,” her voice deadpanned.
“T-These guys—you don’t wanna mess with them,” his fearful face glancing around the space, “Baneberry is one thing, low level, ya know? The rare stuff like that is peddled by powerful people,”
Shit, this isn’t going to lead to anything good. Hermione sighed thoughtfully, “Tell you what,” her hand shaking the bag again, measuring the weight of the coins inside, “I brought fifty galleons for different locations you tipped off, you tell me one, and you can have the whole bag,”
His fear wavered, glancing at the bag in her hand again, “M-most don’t distribute in the same place, but there is a spot, over near the old Gaunt residence they use for meetings, it’s out of the way,”
Her gaze narrowed, “Which part exactly?”
“The abandoned garden,” her hand threw the bag to him, coins clinking inside before turning on her heel.
Hermione surveyed the abandoned yard, the small, empty Gaunt residence had stood that way since long before the first Wizarding war. Maybe it was the realization the area was declining into ruin. Luckily, the residence next to it had been turned into an inn renting the rooms by the hour.
She glanced around the infested room, every surface was covered in a layer of grime that would require setting fire to the tiny room and soiled twin bed to clean. It was completely devoid of any other furniture, the empty wooden planks vibrated as she walked to glance out the window. The good news is it was cheap, even with the minor bribe she paid to the scummy attendant for the specific room viewing the garden. With any luck, Malfoy’s stalkers wouldn’t interfere with her investigation.
After sending a patronous to the Auror office regarding her lead and to be on alert for her call, she transfigured the bed into a seat. Moving it in front of the window she pulled off her cloak to sit on and disillusioning herself as she settled in to watch the garden.
With too much time on her hands, her attention was pulled to her arm. The bastard scar burned, screaming with pain that she had gotten too used to ignoring. Even now her dreams reminded her of Bellatrix slicing into her arm with the horrible, cursed blade. The concerned look Ginny threw at it before she remembered to glamour it this morning told her it was getting out of hand, with a sigh she glanced at the garden, scratching at the puckered swollen skin. She had tried everything for it, curse breakers had just given her sad looks and a recommendation to a healer, the healer had given her a recommendation to potions for a regimen of pain management and topical poultices. Even the muggle medicine ended up being a bust, after a procedure of skin grafting she’d saved up months for the scar came back worse than ever. And now, apparently, the only time the burning lessens is when the last descendent of the Black line touches her.
The horrible irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her, the boy who’d watched her crucioed over and over, listening to her screams as his aunt carved the cursed slur into her arm with a blade that dripped in the black magic that hurt her to this day, was now the only man who had made any type of difference in the ailment she was left with.
She ran her hands over her face, trying to rub away the exhaustion before setting her gaze back to the garden. Make it make sense, the only answer she had ever been given was that dark blood magic was the cause. No one seemed to know how to treat it, just that she’d be suffering it for the rest of her life.
Hours in the uncomfortable chair and pacing around the closet of the room finally paid off. It was close to two in the morning and exhaustion had set in hours ago. Nearly falling asleep in the chair, the smallest ruffling of the dead bushes in the moonlight conveyed the movement of disillusioned people. Hermione felt her adrenaline skyrocket as she whipped out her wand, sending a patronous to the auror office.
She ran out of the tiny room, sliding down the steep stairs before landing roughly at the bottom, disillusionment charm still active. She quieted her steps as she entered the alleyway between the houses, slowing her pace and throwing a silencing charm at her feet as she skated along the wooden paneled fence.
“Do you have it?” a gruff voice spoke quietly from over the fence as Hermione looked for a way in, she could feel the wards vibrating right along the fence. Careful not to broach them, she peeked the distributors through the crack.
The supplier disillusioned himself, “Invenies quod periit, as you asked for,”
The buyer scoffed as he came into view, “Better be worth the price,”
The small vial of the clear blue liquid danced in his hand, Hermione felt her heart jump at his words, invenies quod periit was dangerous. When working correctly, it operated almost like felix felicis but able to be directed. Translating to ‘You’ll find what’s lost’ the potion could direct the minds and actions of others. There have been multiple cases of forlorn lovers ‘regaining’ their partners this way for the duration of the potion before their partners had come into the Auror office. The smarter users knew to use it for smaller items, finding lost keys etc., there were suspicions of treasure seekers using it, but it's been found within the clutches of politicians as well. But the mental component of the potion was what mainly presented the problem, while it didn’t have long-lasting effects when brewed incorrectly the potion could cause mind melt in large groups of people. When brewed correctly, they had no way to track its use either on yourself or others, especially when one is prone to writing off their actions as temporary insanity.
Hermione felt her badge warm in her shirt as the other aurors honed into her location, several of them apparating silently next to her. She raised her finger to her lips, telling the newcomers to stay quiet as she listened.
“The price buys silence, ours and yours,” The rough voice echoed throughout the small space, “The leader of the Basks is back, they hear we’re selling it, and we might as well sign our own death warrants,”
The buyer laughed, “Scared of a little gang, are we?”
Hermione frowned at the mention, ‘The basks?’ she mouthed to Roberts next to her, he waved his hand dismissing her, later then.
“Yes, you are,” The distributor spoke confidently.
The clinking of coins exchanging hands was their cue. The wards burst, sounding in an explosion as she lept over the fence with Roberts, her stunning spell striking the distributor before her feet hit the ground.
The slimy man fell, Hermione connected his wrists in the spelled cuffs before he got up.
Her eyes met Roberts as he spelled the cuffs on the buyer, confiscated potion in his hands. She felt a victorious grin grow as they pulled their new suspects away, apparating them into the auror’s office.