Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Harvest Moon ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )

 

 

Half an hour later Hermione and Draco were walking down the much quieter halls of the Ministry.

 

“So what do you think, Granger? Any possibility my father could be involved in this?” Draco said, sounding worried. He knew just as well as she did that if the elder Malfoy was a suspect they'd likely be pulled off this case.

 

“Anything is possible, Malfoy. However, I highly doubt your father did this.”

 

“Oh? Think that highly of him do you?”

 

Hermione snorted. “Hardly. I just know he isn't daft enough to pose a body out in the open on his own property. He's a lot of things, stupid isn't one of them.”

 

Draco laughed. “You do actually admire him, I can tell, Granger.”

 

“I admire the courage it took to turncoat on Voldemort and to do what was necessary to try protecting his family during a massive crisis. That's all,” she said, turning down the corridor that led to the MME's office.

 

The MME's office was spotlessly clean as one would expect. However, one would not have expected the myriad of odd things scattered about the place. Several stacks of the Quibbler were teetering at odd angles on the floor next to her desk along with quite the collection of bottle cap made jewelry.

 

She shoved a quill into her hair as Draco and Hermione appeared in the doorway to her office. She smiled vaguely at them before turning to the file on her desk and leafing through it for a moment before motioning them in.

 

“Barmy as all hell but nice on the eyes,” Draco whispered to Hermione. She elbowed him in the ribs, sending him sideways.

 

Hermione smiled and looked at the MME, knowing that to many Dr. Lovegood seemed highly odd and most of the time completely off her rocker. But the strange girl everyone had known at Hogwarts had grown into an increasingly strong woman expressing an intelligence that made it clear to everyone why she had been a Ravenclaw. She had often given even Hermione a run for her money in grades at University and had become the youngest MME in the history of the Ministry at age twenty six. She also had a wicked, if not somewhat skewed sense of humor that tended toward the darker side. But there were still days when, as Draco had so eloquently put it, she was barmy as all hell.

 

“Come in and sit down, you two. This may take a bit,” she said, leaning sideways in her chair and grabbing two other folders.

 

They both sat in the chairs across from her desk. “Well, I don't need to tell you how gruesome the whole bit was, now do I. At any rate, I can't really tell you much more than you already guessed. The severe wounds were made post mortem. No magickal traces of who actually fired the spell that killed her, all of it had been wiped and there was absolutely nothing to give us a clue to who the killer might be. I suspect nargles,” she said, her lips quirking up in a smile.

 

“Yes, well, we can't exactly arrest nargles now can we,” Draco said, nearly choking on his laughter.

 

“Of course not. They're invisible most of the time anyway,” Luna said before going back to report mode. “The rest of the details concerning what was removed from her lower abdominal cavity are in the report. The thread used to sew her lips shut is common no see thread used in most robe making and minor sewing repairs. Could be found anywhere in the wizarding world.”

 

“So we're dealing with a mad tailor. Fabulous,” Draco remarked.

 

“Oh, I doubt that very much. It's such a normal thing to have on hand. Just about any wizarding household has at least one spool of it lying around for quick fixes, though it is becoming less popular of late. Anyway, I thought the two of you might be interested in seeing the photographs I'd taken of the young woman's back and sides,” Luna said, opening one of the folders and taking out several pictures.

 

Hermione took them and frowned. “Are those . . .”

 

“Whip marks? Yes, as near as I can tell. They seem to be a few days old, since muggles don't have access to instant regeneration potions and such these would have had to heal on their own. I've no idea what kind of whip it was but I thought it might help you get a lead on her identity. I also removed something from what should have been the rectal cavity,” Luna said, handing the sealed bag over to Draco.

 

He squinted, barely making out the lettering as it was spotted with blood, it read The Gilded Lily. Draco frowned. “I know this place,” he said. “It's a very high end bondage and fetish club that caters to the wizarding world. The main difference is that most of those who work there are either muggles or muggle born.”

 

Both Hermione and Luna's eyebrows went up at his statement.

 

“And how do you know about it?” Hermione asked, pondering to herself if she really wanted the answer or not.

 

Draco simply shrugged. “I was excessively bored one evening and Blaise recommended the place.”

 

“That's disgusting, Malfoy. Why?”

 

“Ah, Granger, some people like pain and aren't interested in sex without it. We should go check this out.”

 

Hermione nodded. “Is there any way we can get a reconstruction on her face enough to take a picture for someone to possibly identify her, Luna? Or at least an artist's sketch.”

 

“I doubt she can be properly put back together, Hermione,” Luna said sadly. “But I'll get one of the artists on doing a sketch immediately,” she said, pulling the quill from her hair and jotting down an interdepartmental memo. “I doubt anything will get finished on this tonight though.”

 

“Hardly surprising. Malfoy, I think we should talk to the muggle authorities,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “See if there have been any other murders of young women that might be similar to this. We also need to question the house elf who found the body. Her name is Tweak, I think.”

 

Draco sighed heavily. “It is Tweak.”

 

Hermione frowned at him. “What's wrong?”

 

Draco rubbed the back of his neck, a sure sign he was uncomfortable. “Tweak is one of my Father's house-elves. She has a brother named Bubble.”

 

Hermione sat and stared wide eye at him while Luna started laughing.

 

“You named them, didn't you.”

 

“Their parents asked me to and I was four, thank you very much,” he said, sounding miffed.