Bring Him To His Kness

1.

In a cemetery outside the wizarding community of Betws-yn-Rhos, the naked corpse lay on her back, arms sprawled out, red hair spread around her. The yellow glimmer of the protective crime scene bubble gave her skin a sallow tint. Techs bustling around the scene moved back as Draco opened the bubble with a wave of his hand and stepped inside. He closed the bubble and went straight to the body, a quick tug at his trouser legs pulling the material up as he crouched beside the corpse.

Draco lifted her wrist with the tip of his wand, tilting his head to examine her. Around her body, almost etched into her skin, were a series of marks. The imprints ran from her hips up to her shoulders in an elaborate open-weave pattern. Another, narrower, set wrapped around her biceps and wrists. One more, very thin, set of marks circled her neck, just above a silver necklace and a pendant in the shape of a long-stemmed, thorned rose.

Draco set her hand down and twisted to speak over his shoulder. "When was she found?"

"This morning," Harry said from behind a floating, legless table several feet away. He made a note on a form and scratched his nose with the end of his pen. "About four. Bakery clerk spotted her on his way to work."

"Does she have it?" Draco asked without moving.

Harry gritted his teeth and turned his attention to the form, busily filling it out.

"Potter." Draco looked back down at the body. He knew only too well that Harry wasn't prone to fidgeting, unless there was something he was trying to avoid saying. The steady focus on a piece of paperwork, the natural enemy of Head Auror Harry James Potter, was a clear indicator of something to avoid. "Does she have it?"

Harry let out a long, slow breath and nodded once. "Inside of her right thigh."

Draco cast a quick charm over his hands, thin black gloves forming. He put his wand away and gently took the woman's knee in both hands. He eased her legs apart, fingers sliding up the inside of her thigh to twist her skin to his view. High on her thigh was a small bruise surrounding three lines cut deep into her flesh, the Roman numeral III. Draco closed his eyes. "Three."

"Yeah," Harry said. His long robes rustled as he moved to stand beside the body next to Draco. "We need you to confirm the signature."

Draco muttered a soft curse. "Ridiculous to go through this every time, you know. We have enough to confirm without this. Matching abrasions on arms and neck, matching bruise and cuts on inner thigh, matching necklace."

"And if—when we catch this bastard, I don't want a single shred of possibility that he'll get a solicitor who can claim we weren't fully diligent. I want confirmation on every part of the signature. Do it, Malfoy."

Draco settled his feet in place and leaned over the woman, one hand in the dirt beside her for balance. He took a deep breath through his nose. He held the air in his lungs, eyes closed as he concentrated.

The trees in the woods behind the Manor, evergreens wet with rain, fallen cones crunching under his boots, gray-green needles tugging at his hair. Black bark rough against his wet cheek, the doleful call of a nightbird in the distance.

Thick books, shelved and stacked, spines cracked through centuries of use. A long sofa tufted with buttons. Standing still in front of a desk, eyes locked on the green blotter precisely placed in the center of the polished surface. Father's stern voice. A duty. A responsibility. An assignment. A clench of his heart.