Imminent

So, before you go, Was there something I could've said
To make your heart beat better, if only I'd have known you had a storm to weather
Was there something I could've said, To make it all stop hurting? 
(before you go, lewis capaldi)

“Draco.”

The voice called softly to him… 

She was there. She had to be.

“Draco.”

The whisper caressed the air as it reached him. He looked around widely, trying to find the mass of brown curls, the deep brown eyes that he could get lost in… She was there. 

Wasn’t she? But why would she be here? 

She shouldn’t be here. 

It wasn’t safe, she was in danger. 

His body spasmed and a cry escaped past his lips as pain seared through his body. The soft whispers were pulled further away from him. He tried in earnest to keep the screams in, letting out only a brief strangled cry. His ears were assaulted with wicked cackling and dread settled into the pit of his stomach.

“Draco,” his aunt crooned as he finally felt relief from the pain that reached his bones, “Draco, Draco…it pains me to do this. But you must be prepared. You must suffer…. Crucio!”

His head slammed back on the cold floor and his world went black.

February 2006

Snow crunched under dragonhide boots. The wind whipped viciously against a thick, wool coat that skimmed just the top of his boots. To say it was a cold day in February was an understatement. But when you're summoned to the northernmost part of Scotland, the weather is of the least concern.

Silver eyes quietly surveyed the scene in front of him. Occlusion was the only reason his face was void of emotion and his disgust at the massacre he faced wasn’t visible.

Grisly or disgusting were probably a tame way to describe what the team was presented with. As he glanced around, he mused on other ways to describe the view before him:disturbing, unhinged, grotesque. All would be appropriate considering the bloodsoaked snow and entrails currently at his feet.

The team of Aurors silently set a 50-foot Stasis bubble around the area to ensure no evidence was disturbed or blown away by the god-awful wind. The Medical team carefully catalogued the limbs scattered around. Forensic Aurors photographed and bagged the various entrails and odd pieces after being given approval by Medical. 

Based on the number of shredded organs, there were at least two victims this time. 

In several pieces.

Again.

Internally, he groaned. Every time a victim was found, his aggravation seethed beneath the surface.

It was no surprise when several of the Aurors needed a break to compose themselves, attempting to not add their hastily eaten breakfasts to the evidence. With arms and legs strewn on opposite sides of the Stasis bubble,the Medical team  split into groups to account for all the pieces. The torsos were haphazardly thrown in a pile along with hands and feet. Flies and worms were already making them a meal. 

There were no heads to be seen. 

There never were. 

Identification wasn't going to be easy but at least there seemed to be more left than the last time.

Morbid. That’s probably how she would describe it, he thought as footsteps stopped next to him.

"Heads, hearts, and livers missing again," a dark-haired man grumbled as he scribbled hastily into a notebook. "Both muggles. Adrianna thinks she can get an ID on them easier this time since we have the hands.”

“How are you planning to address this with the muggle authorities? This is the third murder in less than two months and the fourth time that muggles have been mauled."

The dark-haired man sighed and rubbed his eyes behind his round glasses. "Honestly, I'm not sure about that one. You would think that six years after his death, his followers would give it up already. Especially after we've arrested most of them.”

"Yes, Potter, but let’s not forget that these are not the usual Death Eaters. Greyback may not have been Marked but he and his packs were fiercely loyal to the Dark Lord. Considering the increase in attacks, I would say they're gearing up for something soon. I wouldn’t be surprised if their numbers have grown exceptionally as well.”

Harry Potter shook his head and turned to fully look up at the man next to him. The platinum-haired man had grown to be a full head taller than him, which irritated Potter more than he’d like to admit. (Harry imagined the look of horror at telling his younger self he would one day have to look up to Malfoy of all people...). Draco, on the other hand, enjoyed that the great Boy-Who-Survived had to “look up to him” though he was careful to not gloat about it. 

At least not too often.

During the Malfoys’ trials, Potter learned all that the Malfoys had done for the Order during the war. He expressed appreciation for their help, much to the disbelief of most of the Wizarding population. Draco’s and Narcissa’s statements of events had been given to Potter at Draco's request. 

There was so much hostility from the general population during the Malfoy trials. Potter ensured that Draco and his mother were given protection as multiple threats had been made. Even after she was cleared, Narcissa volunteered to take Veritaserum and give a public testimony to ease the hostility and provide Draco with a lesser sentence. 

Potter was adamant that it was unnecessary while Weasley proclaimed that anyone who still had a problem with the Malfoys would face several angry redheads. Thankfully it had all worked and he was sentenced to 18 months: six months in Azkaban and the remainder served as house arrest, stripped of his magic for the time being.

Draco still couldn’t believe he had earned any type of friendship from Potter and Weasley, or their families. It was astounding and dizzying to be accepted by those he had previously looked down upon. He still felt shame for the actions of  his younger self—Potter and Weasley waved his apologies aside and proclaimed that the hatchet was buried.

"Neither of them are her at least," Potter said quietly. "We've been lucky every time it isn't her."

"One of these times, Potter...it's will be her. I don't fancy finding her corpse."

"And you think I do? Fuck's sake, Malfoy, it's been-"

"I know," he snapped in a hiss, turning his head slightly, silver eyes narrowing. "I know how long it's been. You don't need to remind me.”

“Malfoy, I’ve been hurting just as much as you have.” Potter studied Draco for a moment before his gaze softened, “You don’t have to carry that hurt alone either, you know.”

Draco withheld rolling his eyes before shaking his head. Though they were friends, he wasn’t about to show any chumminess, especially not in the middle of a crime scene.

“Have Blaise finish cataloguing everything and deliver his notes when finished. I'm going back to the office. I'm sure you have everything in hand here."

Draco didn't bother waiting for a reply before he turned and strode out of the Stasis bubble, silently Apparating away. 

A perk of working alongside and gaining the trust of Harry Potter, Draco could Apparate directly into his office in the lower levels of the Ministry, avoiding the plebeians. He and his team were relocated to the Department of Mysteries rather than be stationed in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which became a blessing when trying to avoid the Gossips of the Ministry. Truthfully, it was because Draco’s team primarily dealt with Dark incidents. They never roused any complaints about the privacy they were given. 

Draco sighed as he sat behind his desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a short glass along with a bottle of whiskey. He relaxed in the high back chair but glared at the glass and bottle, contemplating.

Six years. 

Six long years and he still hadn't found her.

How could she have just dropped off the face of the earth? A person didn’t just disappear.. It was baffling how no one, absolutely no one, had any glimpse of her in six years. There were always some “sightings” but those led to nothing.

The last anyone had seen of Granger was at the Final Battle. Though, no one could remember seeing her afterward. It was as if she simply vanished. The only timing everyone agreed about seeing her was when Voldemort had stood in the courtyard announcing Potter had died. 

Then, while everything was a blur, she was gone. 

Draco searched the castle endlessly that day, determined to find her somewhere. Potter and Weasley puffed out their chests like the ridiculous peacocks Draco’s father had bred, demanding to know why Draco was looking for their friend. After a brief fistfight ensued with Blaise and Theo pulling the three apart, the secret of their liaison was revealed. 

Potter and Weasley swore that Draco had either gone barmy or had Imperiused Granger for her to do such a thing. They later took back their accusations, with some embarrassment at their behaviour.

Draco, with the help of Blaise and Theo, searched what seemed like all of Britain for months after the battle before Draco had to face his trial. Seeing his determination, Potter and Weasley put aside their teenage grudge and joined the search.

While they swore repeatedly that Granger would never keep such a secret from them, the Dunderhead Duo eventually admitted that they felt like they didn’t really know their best friend. It just wasn’t like her to have kept this from them.

One drunken night, Potter begrudgingly admitted to Draco that he was jealous because Draco spent almost two years being able to see Granger while he had been barred from any communication with her until she joined them Horcrux hunting. Even then, Granger hadn’t given up any secrets of her time with Draco, still meeting as needed. Potter realised Granger and Draco’s liasing explained why she disappeared a few times. . He never gave it any extra thought because “it was Hermione and you just trust her no matter what, ya know?”

Draco barely hid his disgust at the sight of the Boy Wonder crying unrestrained in front of him. Previously he would’ve goaded Potter on about the moment. Draco decided that he would just ignore the devil on his shoulder and never mentioned it to Potter—who seemed grateful.

After his house arrest was lifted and his magic restored, Draco, along with Blaise and Theo, joined Potter and Weasley for Auror training, despite Narcissa’s numerous objections to his enrolment. Narcissa had tried everything to convince Draco to rethink his decision. She despised the idea of him going into any fray again, worrying as she did before that he may never come home. After many long discussions, she relented when he confided in her that he owed it to Granger. That he could use the Auror resources to find her.

They rarely talked about Granger after the horrible night at the Manor. For Draco to bring her up just months later, it struck a maternal nerve in Narcissa.

"Find her, Draco" she said softly as she held her son's hands, "We owe her so much..."

"I know, Mother. I know. I'm doing everything I ca-" 

He was cut off as his mother buried her face in his chest and silently wept.

"I'm so sorry about your father and everything he did to you... Miss Granger was the light that we needed and we...we..."

Draco fiercely hugged his mother as she sobbed into his shoulder. 

After that, Narcissa was a staunch supporter of her son and watched from the crowd proudly as he and his friends graduated from Auror training, right next to Potter and Weasley.

If his sixteen-year-old self had been told that one day he would be friends with Potter-and by proxy, Weasley- he would’ve scoffed and hexed whoever suggested such a ridiculous idea. 

As it was, searching for Granger and Auror training brought the three men together. Not best friends by any means, but he would classify it as friends nonetheless. Blaise and Theo showed a tolerance for the other two men but snakes could only handle being around lions for so long. And work hours were normally long enough for all of them. Though occasionally all could be found at the Burrow enjoying a delicious meal courtesy of Molly Weasley.

Draco continued to stare at the offending bottle and glass sitting on his desk. 

Temptation was within his grasp and he longed to drown his thoughts again. 

He knew better though. 

The last thing he needed was a repeat of the Incident. 

He took a deep breath to steady himself before reading through the reports on his desk for the fifth time that day. His team had been given the lead on the Mauling cases and the aggravation from it remaining unsolved was weighing on all of them.

For the last two years, a mauling would occur every few months. There was no consistency in locations, victim backgrounds, time between murders, or even cause of death. It hadn’t truly hit their radar until the Medical teams made a discovery: the hearts, heads, and livers were always missing. Bodies were always dismembered, mutilated, and strewn across the area. 

The only suspect: Fenrir Greyback.

Although the Werewolf had not publicly taken credit for the Maulings, Draco recognized his signature from his time at Malfoy Manor: the missing pieces. 

During Voldemort’s occupation of the Manor, Greyback was notorious for mutilating victims in one of the cellars. He would spend days torturing the poor souls, their screams muffled into a quiet whisper spreading through the Manor. Draco would lock himself in the library whenever Greyback had a new victim, determined to stay as far away as possible. 

The Werewolf would still be covered in blood and other…things…when everyone would convene for dinners in the dining hall. He would gloat to the others in attendance of his newest “experiment”, as he called it. Bellatrix would cackle and spur him on, especially whenever a mudblood was the subject. Draco swore that she would even join Greyback in the torture sometimes, but that was just conjecture. 

Draco had eventually been given the unfortunate task of cleaning up after Greyback finished with one of his victims. To say it was nauseating was an understatement of the misfortune tasked to him. 

The cellar was turned into a torture chamber. Chains hung along the walls, a bloodstained table equipped with cuffs was toward one side of the room, another table with various crude and bloodied instruments tossed about was along the other wall. In one corner was a pile of…

Oh god…

Draco had turned away as he retched, the sight forever burned in his memory. 

Could it even be called human anymore? 

The poor muggle had ended up a pile of…well, parts in the corner of the room. The man had been torn limb from limb; long strips of skin flayed; muscles pulled in strings from the bones; every organ had been removed, shredded, and tossed atop the pile.

Draco had noted the head seemed to be missing. He peered around the dim cellar, only seeing the pile of remains along with blood and other fluids smeared across the walls. He slowly started to look up and sighed, relieved that Greyback did not have an even worse sense of humour. 

No heads dangled from the ceiling. At least not today. 

Bellatrix had confiscated Draco’s wand before graciously bestowing him this task…instructing him that manually cleaning up would help to harden him as his parents allowed him to grow up soft. He would add this to the long list of reasons why he hated his aunt. It had taken him several hours to properly dispose of the remains as he had to carry them to a remote part of the grounds to burn. 

Draco was assigned to clean up a few more times and learned not only the head would be missing but also the heart and liver. He didn’t know much about Werewolf appetites at the time but had later confirmed with Lupin via Granger that it was strictly a preference of Greyback’s. 

With each Mauling found, all three were always missing. The Medical teams spent hours putting every victim back together as best as they could but there was only so much even magic could do. By the fifth occurrence, they had alerted Potter and Draco of the disturbing detail that matched across all victims. Draco immediately named Greyback as the culprit. 

But what was he playing at? 

It had been years since the Final Battle. 

Darkness had lost, most of Voldemort’s supporters were locked up or deceased.

What was the motive? 

Draco shuffled the papers around again and ran a hand through his hair, loosening strands from the short ponytail at the back of his head. He was going to have another headache if he continued on like this again.

Out of the nine victims, only four of them had positive ID’s. Five were unknown. The bodies were too mutilated to get any identifying marks or even fingerprints to try muggle methods. There was hardly any evidence left at the crime scenes other than the victims. No one had reported any threats –it was as though they were randomly murdering and tossing the pieces. 

Then there was the increase in attacks. 

Draco reviewed the timeline of the most recent murders again. It was averaging at least two months between victims being found. Now, it had shortened to less than a month with the number of victims at each scene having increased. Although, one scene had one and a half victims. The team assumed the remaining half of Victim Six would never be found.

Draco let out a heavy breath, closing his tired eyes and running a hand through the front of his blonde hair again. More strands from the short ponytail fell loose. He wryly thought that maybe it was time to get a haircut. But he pushed the thought aside, deeming it frivolous and unimportant.

Glancing over at the clock nestled on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, he estimated Blaise would be finished collecting all the necessary evidence from today’s scene. It would be another few hours before Blaise and Theo finished reviewing everything and one of them would present a summary. 

Draco had been given the freedom to choose his team and working with his two friends brought some relief to the job. He was thankful to not have to work awkwardly around others who were skittish because of his past–some being none too quiet about their discomfort. Although many people were still wary about Draco and his “reformation”, they were even more wary of having three previous Dark wizards as an Auror team. 

Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, , were thankfully acquitted of all charges, thanks to Potter and Weasley. They had not been secretly working with Granger for the entirety of the three years but had done enough in the background assisting the Order. It helped that Potter and Weasley were extremely adamant all three wizards would be more beneficial to society outside of prison and suggested Auror training as a penance. 

Much to the chagrin of the Wizengamot–and anyone else who had doubted the three young men–Blaise, Theo, and Draco graduated and tied for top marks of their trainee group. Within a year, Draco was promoted to lead Auror. After requesting his best friends as his team with final approval having to come from the Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt happily signed off on the creation of “Emerald Squad” (as Weasley jokingly called them).

The three men worked seamlessly together. 

They achieved a top record for solved cases and eventually were exclusively given charge of cases involving any Dark wizards or those of a Dark nature. This criterion was how they constantly found themselves pouring over notes and reports from the last two years of murders, aggravated at finding no solid leads and practically nothing to go on other than human remains. 

Just as Draco had predicted, Blaise stepped through his office door hours later. His shorter black hair was dishevelled, likely from pulling it in frustration. He had forgone donning his work robes, the sleeves of his white button-up haphazardly shoved up to his elbows. With a huff, he tossed the folder on Draco’s desk, scattering the reports he had been writing up and reviewing, before unceremoniously dropping himself into the chair across from Draco. 

The Italian was beyond irritated and Draco decided making a crack about his hair starting to resemble Potter’s would be a sure way to an early grave.

“Both are muggles. Both are in the same state as we’ve found the others. You know, the usual. But here’s the kicker: now we have bloody Vampires!” he growled and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

Without asking, Draco quickly poured his friend a glass of whiskey, holding it out for him. Secretly, Draco was glad to have the temptation of filling the glass for himself taken away. He’d been periodically glaring at the glass over the last few hours. Draco wasn’t sure why he hadn’t just put it all away in his desk drawer - maybe  he was nothing more than a masochistic bastard. 

He raised a brow as he glanced through Blaise’s report. “The torsos were drained of blood? You’re sure it was Vampires?”

Blaise scoffed as he took a long drink. “Of course it is. There was no blood left, but Vampire saliva leaves behind minute traces in the blood vessels. It took four tries before the Med team could conclusively say there were traces of the saliva. But it was only the torsos. Everything else was still bleeding.” He took another drink, “Theo is still finishing checking everything for curses and charms. Med team says dismemberment was done via a Severing charm this time but Theo said there’s something else there.”

Draco hummed in acknowledgement and continued reading. 

He trusted his team to be thorough in collecting details and evidence. If something was off, they were generally right. Theo flourished in examining curses, charm work, and magical maladies. Considering his father had forced him to be a test subject and participate in creating new curses during the war, Theo’s expertise was unmatched. Anyone who questioned his conclusions would be proven wrong. If Theo thought there was more at play than just a Severing charm, then their troubles were about to get worse.

Blaise specialized in magical creatures but even he couldn’t conclusively say whether these were victims of only werewolves. There were indicators for werewolves on some remains, hags on others. Blaise swore one leg had the bite mark of a giant. But there was no consistency in any of them, and as far as they knew, none of these creatures tolerated each other. In fact, there were multiple incidents that showed, without influence, that the creatures would kill each other. 

Yet here was evidence that they were murdering humans together.

Draco closed the folder and slid it to the side of his mahogany desk as he observed Blaise. The man was tired. He could see it in Blaise’s eyes, how he didn’t even crack an inappropriate joke about the newest murders. Since the increase in murders, they had been working overtime to try and find anything, just anything, that would lead them to stopping Greyback. But it was no use–somehow the bastard was as elusive as ever.

“Blaise…" The tired man’s eyes shifted to his boss at the sound of his name. “Let’s call it a night, shall we? It’s 3 am. Take the weekend to recover. You’re no use if you’re overworking yourself. Get Theo and tell him to head home as well. Everything will be here when we return on Monday.”

Blaise opened his mouth to argue but stopped for a second. He closed his mouth and nodded before finishing his drink.

“Draco,” he said softly. “I’m sure Potter has already said it but–”

“He did. I lost my temper for a brief moment with him.” He propped his elbows on his desk and rested his chin on his folded hands. “It’s almost another year gone and still nothing. Maybe she really is dead.”

“Don’t say that. Brightest witch of our age, remember? I’m sure she’s alright. Although I would love to know what she’s been up to all this time.”

Draco shook his head and scoffed. “Get in line. We’d all like to know what the fuck has been going on. I know she kept secrets from me but hell, from Potter and Weasley too?” He rubbed his hands over his face and sunk back into his chair. “I’ve gone back through everything I can remember to see if I'm missing something. Anything that could give a clue to what happened. I can't find a damn thing. I can't help but wonder…if any of it was real.”

Blaise gave a nod and a small, apologetic half-smile towards his friend. “I’m sure she’s out there, thinking of you, mate. I saw you, that Christmas–that was real. Don’t you dare think otherwise. What you two had…have…that’s Endgame, mate. I’m sure she has a good reason for disappearing on us. I just hope it was on her own accord is all.”

Draco closed his eyes and images of soft skin and brown eyes filled his thoughts, “Me too, Blaise. Mee too.”

A shadow quickly darted across the moonlit snow, leaving no footprints. It stopped at the edge of a forest, a nose going up towards the air, whiskers twitching as a scent was caught. It abruptly turned to the left and skittered along the edge of the tree line. Eyes a mix of amber and brown flicked around, searching.

Ahead was a hollowed-out tree trunk with the smallest opening. The shadow quickly darted inside, barely squeezing through the small hole as thunderous footsteps crashed nearby. Howls and snarls came with the thunder. A nose and whiskers twitched in anticipation. The shadow pressed itself as far into the tree as it could, barely breathing.

The thunder stopped and, for a brief second, it seemed all was clear.

A howl pierced the air, right next to the tree. Shuffling sounds followed before a nose and teeth appeared at the entrance to its hiding place.

Time stood still. 

The shadow held its breath until the nose gave a snort and vanished. The thunder moved further and further away. The shadow gave a long sigh and inched towards the entrance. Clouds parted above. Moonlight flickered along to the edge of the forest, illuminating all that was previously hidden.

As light trickled across the forest floor, the shadow slowly turned into a small red fox. The vulpine lay down just inside the hollow trunk, head resting between its black paws.

Its eyes flicked back and forth, noting every detail imaginable. Its ears twitched, alternating forward and back, straining to hear even a trace of those terrible howls again. 

All was silent.

The fox could relax, if just for a short while. 

It looked up at the full moon with a wistful stare. A tear slid from its eye and a shudder that sounded too similar to a sob escaped from its mouth. It slowly inched back into the hollow trunk, patting the dirt and dead leaves into a makeshift bed. The fox curled up as small as it could manage, burrowing its nose into its fluffy tail.

Memories danced across its mind. Memories that should be soothing.

Instead, there was pain, heart-wrenching pain. 

There were two boys: one dark-haired, one fiery red. Laughter and teasing filled the air. 

Another of crying and yelling–they had fought with each other. There were hugs, tears, and apologies. 

Then another memory crept up…. of a tall boy with silver eyes and blond hair.

Finding the boy hiding in dark corridors and hidden passages as he held back tears.

Soothing words whispered as he was held closely.

The boy, now almost a man, stood in a garden outside a dark house. He turned and a grin spread across his face as his eyes lit up like the moon.

He was on the other side of the room as pain overtook everything. Searing pain coursed through every muscle, every bone, every nerve. Screams filled the air. A burning coursed through a limb as blood slowly trickled.

He silently cried, torn between choices. There was no blaming him—he had been told to do nothing.

Another shudder and tear escaped from the small fox. It burrowed further into itself, wanting to disappear from the world. It knew better though. There were still things that needed done, plans to be completed. A Werewolf to be stopped.

Tomorrow would be another day of trying to end this years-long battle.

The end was nowhere in sight though.