Chapter 39

Harry and Hermione stared at him without saying a word. Seeing their shocked expressions, Draco waved a hand in annoyance.

"I have sent him a letter and I am still waiting for a reply. He might know something of his former 'associates' or at least be able to hint us in the right direction."

"And what makes you think he will help?" Hermione asked quietly.

Draco regarded her for a moment. She didn't look angry anymore. If anything, she looked nervous, her eyes slightly widened and her hand gripping her wand tightly.

He thought for a moment, not sure how to begin explaining to her. It was difficult even for him to say why exactly he had written to his father that day after talking to Harry. He guessed it was the feeling of helplessness, of uselessness that drowned him.

Seeing Hermione get hurt and knowing that, if he was right in supposing Death Eaters to be the guilty party, she might still be in danger, all this made him feel strange. He knew she was there to help him, but at the same time he wanted to help her in return.

Nevertheless, he was saved from having to give an answer when a brown owl flew in the room and perched itself elegantly onto Draco's shoulder.

After the first moment of shock had passed, Draco realized that it was his mother's owl. It hooted softly while Draco took with trembling hands the letter attached onto its leg.

Draco's face paled and he stood there, letter in hand, as if hit by an immobilization spell.

"What does it say?" Hermione asked in a low, soft voice, afraid to startle him.

Draco turned his eyes at her, his eyes boring into hers, as if trying to send a wordless message.

"Mother… I have to go!" he said suddenly, turning on the spot and disappearing.

***

Draco entered his mother's sitting room in a whirl of robes.

No sooner had he closed the door that he started talking in a rapid fire.

"Mother, what do you mean father is gone? What happened? Is everything alright here?"

Narcissa patiently allowed her son to ramble for a few seconds. Then, she gestured for him to sit next to her on the small couch.

"What happened?" Draco asked again impatiently.

He kept looking around, but the room and the house seemed to be alright. No sign of struggle whatsoever and his mother seemed too composed to presume something very dreadful had happened. Then what was it? In her letter she only told him that his father had disappeared.

"Your father has been acting rather… odd these last couple of weeks." Narcissa finally said, gracefully pouring herself and Draco a cup of tea. "He's been staying cooped up in that study of his for the most part of the day and barely talked when he came out."

"Has he said anything about what he has been doing there? Does it have anything to do with money or this house?"

Narcissa hesitated for a moment.

"He hasn't talked about anything important with me ever since the last time you came home." she said slowly, looking carefully at Draco.

Draco felt a sudden stab of guilt at her words. He knew his father acted that way towards her because of him, because of his choices.

He tried to shake the feeling off. The current situation was more important than anything he might feel at the moment.

"Did you notice anything strange about him? Apart from being in his study way too much, that is." Draco said, picking up his tea and trying to look calm.

"I noticed a lot of owls coming and going, delivering and taking away letters." Narcissa said, following her son's example and sipping the tea elegantly.

"Letters?" Draco mumbled. "Any idea who they were from or who they were addressed to?"

"Unfortunately, no." Narcissa said simply, placing the cup gently on the table. "But there is one more thing. Last night I heard voices coming from his study. Just when I was about to open the door, there was a loud crack and with that your father and whoever was with him were gone."

"Could it be…" Draco started frowning in concentration. "Do you think there is a possibility that he has been kidnapped?"

"Draco, you know your father. No one, except for the Dark Lord perhaps, would be able to kidnap your father and live to tell the tale. Especially from his own house." Narcissa said, waving a hand. "No. I am very sure he went with them willingly. To what purpose, that I do not know."

They both remained quiet for a few moments, each engrossed in his own thoughts and emotions.

Finally, after a short while, Narcissa broke the silence.

"He left you something." she said getting up and heading for the door. "In his study, he left you a note."

Draco followed her upstairs into his father's study.

The room looked the same as how he remembered it. Not very large but comfortable looking.

The big mahogany desk in front of the window was cleaned out. Draco could see a bottle of ink, a few blank pieces of parchment and a quill. But there was something else there. A small piece of parchment was folded and placed neatly under the bottle of ink.

Draco crossed the room, went around the desk and picked the note with a trembling hand. Not knowing what he would find written there made the hair at the back of his head rise in anxiety.

With a deep breath, he finally unfolded the small note. There was only a line there, written in what was undeniably his father's elegant writing; one Draco had inherited as well after long, torturous hours of practice.

Draco let out a soft gasp, feeling dread spreading all over his body, like poison spreading into the blood. He lowered his hands, letting the note fall on the floor. It remained there, opened, staring up at Draco menacingly.

'I will take care of the Granger girl. You stay put and do nothing.'