The Art of Betrayal by katehathaway

To the Unknown

- NOT MY STORY!! ALL CREDITS TO @katehathaway ON A03!!

24 December 1924

BELOVED BACHELOR MISSING: A REFLECTION OF HIS LIFE AND LEGACY

By Rita Skeeter

By the end of 1921, Mr. Malfoy had gathered quite a loyal following –

Oh, did he Rita? Did he?

It's remarkable how little Britain knew of Draco and the Death Eaters, but alas, that was due to his and Narcissa's careful design.

-and while young women everywhere were certainly not tired of seeing his face in the press, it was only just the beginning. Mr. Malfoy would come to be the face of Coco Chanel alongside model and film star Miss Fleur Delacour. It was their winter line, famously breathtaking with their complementary profiles, that sparked not only allegations that the two were secretly dating, but also Mr. Malfoy's future with Mr. Norman Hartnell.

Mr. Hartnell is an English fashion designer who became famous due to Mr. Malfoy's constant appearance in his works, however often the latter of the two refuses to acknowledge it. The former would go on to become the favorite of the social elite and eventually the British Royal family. It was during the opening of his first house in London in 1923 that Mr. Hartnell would propose the Daily Prophet nominate such a fine and outstanding man for Man of the Year in 1924.

It's hard to believe that it's been three years already since that winter line was released.

The papers were ravenous for information on Draco and Fleur and their supposed love affair. She was lovely and, understandably, I was enormously envious of her slender figure and painstakingly aware of her complementary profile to Draco's. They were beautiful and ethereal with their pale blonde hair and bright eyes surrounded by snow and daring to pose clinging to each other's bare, perfect skin.

I shouldn't have been jealous of her and her French accent and kind smile, but there I was, and she wasn't even the woman that directly resulted in me accepting my fate with Draco. To be fair to both women, that year – and particularly that winter – had been a very emotional time for me. All of it had been building up since I first took the name Penelope Clearwater and got myself into this mess, and while it wasn't a complete surprise that the dam had burst, I still didn't expect it to break the way it did.

At the hands of a deranged man, the words of a scornful woman, and the trigger of a loaded gun.

Much like now, actually.

1 December 1921

Hermione was just about to turn the corner into the dining room when there was a thunderous pounding at the front door of the Manor. She halted in the foyer, eyes widening as the staff shifted to allow the visitor an inch of space to declare who they were and what they wanted from Mr. Malfoy. All she caught was a flash of silver against dark blue before she turned on her heel and sprinted into the nearest vacant room, a toilette.

"Chief Inspector Horace Slughorn," the portly man said before pushing his way past the butlers and into the foyer. He glanced around at the spacious and elegant setting before gesturing to his comrade, "and this is Inspector Thomas Scabior."

"What can I do for you today, gentlemen?" The butler asked, frowning at their coats dripping all over his pristine hard wood floors.

"We need to have a chat with your young master," Slughorn informed him.

"A chat," Draco said, striding from down the hall to greet the two uniformed men with a polite and charming smile, "is that all? This wouldn't be a discreet interrogation, now would it, Chief Inspector?"