Who Will Stop the Rain

Siege at Malfoy Cottage

Of course once word got out that Scorpius Malfoy, son of an ex-Death Eater, had gone missing, the press quickly congregated outside of Draco's small cottage in Hogsmeade. He peeked through the curtain at the large group of reporters standing sentry in his front garden, trampling all over his flowerbed, waiting patiently in the pouring rain for him to emerge. It was times like these that he lamented the loss of the Manor - it had been a literal fortress of solitude until it was lost in a fire during the War. Draco dropped the curtain and stood in the darkened living room, listening to the rain batter against the window, unsure of what to do with himself.

He had waited up all night for the Aurors to contact him, hoping that his gut instinct was wrong, praying that Scorpius would come home safe. But when Auror Creevey and his partner had arrived to speak to Draco that morning, he could tell by the grave expression on their faces that they had hadn't found him.

His boy was missing. No, he'd been taken. Draco was sure of it. It was too much of a coincidence that Scorpius had disappeared, given everything that had been happening lately. Of course, Draco had been following the Origami Killer's story in the papers closely. He had empathised with those who had fallen prey to the monster who targeted innocent children but he never considered the possibility that it would ever happen to him. But then again, nobody in these situation ever do.

Draco sighed and clenched his eyes shut, trying in a vain to stop despair and panic from overwhelming him, but he couldn't stop himself imagining the worst possible outcomes of this situation. The Aurors were wasting time arguing that Scorpius was merely a runaway that he would turn up eventually. Turn up like those other eight boys did, he thought darkly, immediately hating himself for even thinking such a thing, fear gripping him anew. He groaned in frustration. He was wasting time just sitting here, doing nothing. But what was to be done? Where could he go? Draco opened his eyes. Going anywhere else was better than staying here. But first he'd have to get the blood reporters off of his tail.

He snatched up his cloak and threw it over his shoulders. He tucked his wand into his pocket and scanned the room for anything else he needed. His eyes fell on a photograph on the mantelpiece; Astoria smiled as she held Cetus and Scorpius in her arms, planting wet kisses on the boy's cheeks as they laughed and squirmed. Draco slid the photograph out of the frame and peered closely at it, and the constant dull ache that occupied his heart intensified. This was the last photograph he had taken of his family before Cetus had died. Before everything had gone to shit. Slipping the photograph into his breast pocket he scanned the room for anything else he needed, but couldn't think of anything. The only thing he cared about had been stolen from him, and he'd be damned if he was going to sit there and do nothing about it.

***

Hermione stood with her hood up and head bowed, hidden unnoticed amongst the gaggle of reporters. She had spent the last few days tracking down and interviewing the mothers of the Origami Killer's victims. She had little expectation that they would be as open with her as they had been with the Auror's, and unfortunately her suspicions were proven correct; doors were slammed in her face time and time again, and she'd heard Mudblood more times in the past week than she had done in years.

But Hermione was not so easily deterred. She agreed with Ron and Harry that it was only a matter of time before another boy was taken, and sure enough, word spread that Scorpius Malfoy was missing, and was most likely the Origami Killer's next intended victim.

One curious thing she had noticed during her investigation was the number of absentee fathers - each household she had visited, it had always been the mother who answered the door. When she had researched the whereabouts of each of the victims fathers, she found that each of them were absent from the child's life - three of them were imprisoned for murder, two of them were living in another country, and of course there Zabini, Flint and Nott had each gone missing within days of their own son's being kidnapped. Despite their unsavoury histories, she found it hard to believe that any of them would be capable of hurting their own children, particularly Malfoy - he hadn't even been able to kill Dumbledore to save his own skin.

The fact that each father was now absent or missing seemed like too much of a coincidence to Hermione. She suspected that if she tailed Malfoy closely enough, the killer or killers would contact him. Of course, she could be standing out here freezing her arse off on a mere hunch for nothing. Her theory was a long shot, but it was all she had to go on. So here she stood, in the rain, waiting...

"Christ, how much longer is he going to stay in there?" grumbled Rita Skeeter under her breath, shaking rainwater off her sodden roll of parchment. Her photographer Bozo shrugged.

"The ex-wife hasn't left her home, either," he noted. "Hermes has been there since first thing this morning. He'll keep us posted if anything happens--"

Bozo fell silent mid-sentence as the front door to the cottage creaked open. There was a sudden rush forward as reporters and photographers pushed parchment and camera lenses into Draco Malfoy's stony face. Hermione allowed herself to be jostled from side to side, waiting for her chance...

Draco kept his head bowed and pushed passed the reporters without answering any of the questions being thrown at him. Hermione took her opportunity then, sidling passed Draco and deftly slipping an item into his cloak pocket. As she withdrew her hand from his pocket she glanced up at him and for the briefest of moments their eyes met. Hermione held her breath, taking in the sight of a man she hadn't seen or thought of in years; deep-set lines of worry etched his normally handsome face, giving him the appearance of a man much older than one who was only in his mid-thirties. His grey eyes were puffy and red, his mouth set in a thin line; he looked like he hadn't had a good night's sleep in years. For the first time in her life, Hermione felt a sharp pang of sympathy for Draco Malfoy.

Draco's gaze slid over Hermione seemingly without noticing her and the moment passed. He continued to shove his way through the crowd and hurried towards the end of the street, the reporters following close behind. When he passed the boundary of the anti-apparition wards around his cottage, he Disapparated with a loud crack. The jabbering of the crowd died the moment Draco had disappeared and they began murmuring quietly amongst themselves, comparing notes as they gradually dispersed in all directions.

Hermione waited until the stragglers had left before turning towards the cottage, her wand drawn. She would follow up on Draco soon enough.