Blood Killer Part 1

Draco clicked the off button on his television remote, tossing the black bar of technology to the side. He let out a long, deep sigh and tilted his head up to the ceiling. He'd been letting his hair grow out, not bothered to take the time to cut it. As a result, the pale blond fringe fell into his eyes and the rest tickled the back of his neck.

"You don't have to turn it off. It's nothing I haven't seen or know." The voice belonged to Hermione Granger who stood with her hands clutching a duffel bag in front of her. She wore a dark magenta petticoat and a knitted black hat over her unruly brown hair. "And you don't have to let me stay, I'm sure it's nothing." 

Draco shook his head, "I hear and see enough at work, I don't need this at home, too. And Blaise asked me to keep you safe. You guys are mates and he's away. I owe him for so many reasons. It's about time I start making it up to him." 

Hermione nodded. She could see where he was coming from. Muggleborns were being killed left and right. Her best friend got scared for her safety and he wasn't there to offer her a place so he had his friend do it. Hermione regretted telling Blaise hat someone had impersonated her and sold her flat, on the same day as a muggleborn killing. 

"You can stay in the guest room or Blaise's. He crashes here a lot. It'll be more furnished and probably has some decent books, so," Draco muttered, trailing off. 

"Right, thanks," Hermione said awkwardly. She shuffled her feet around, unsure what to do or say now. 

Draco seemed the same. He had his hands in his pockets and stood stiffly in the same spot, looking at the paper copy of the Neither moved or said anything for a good chunk of time. 

"I don't mean for this to sound sexist or anything, but there's plenty of food in the kitchen if you want to make anything. I normally just order something from that muggle place down the street. It's easier with our schedules," Draco said, referring to how they worked the same job. 

Hermione smiled slightly. "Thanks," she said, "I normally do the same. There is - - this nice pizza place a quarter of a mile away. I guess when you work twenty-four seven hour schedules, it's hard to find time for those simple tasks like making food." 

"You wouldn't trade it though," Draco said, following her example of attempting small talk, "Offers adventure, being a field auror. Sometimes being able to save lives makes it rewarding to deal with all the sadness and depression that comes with what leads to the answers." 

"You wouldn't leave either," Hermione decided. 

"Not even if it meant I had to die the most painful death imaginable," Draco confirmed. 

Hermione's left hand let go of her bag and scratch her neck, unconsciously lingering on the small scar that was left there from Bellatrix's knife. Draco, however, noticed, and looked away. 

"I'm going to try and get some sleep before we get called to the scene," he said. 

"Hm? Oh, yeah. That's probably smart," Hermione agreed. 

Draco opened his mouth, deciding if he should say something more. In the end he closed his jaw, nodded once, and walked down the hall. The door to his bedroom closed behind him with a soft click. Hermione let out a breathe she didn't know she'd been holding. Her shoulders dropped into a more relaxed stance. 

"What have you done, Blaise," she mumbled. 

Hermione followed where Draco had gone down the hall. Instead of entering his room, though, she went through a door that had scrawled on it green ink. Blaise was a typical Slytherin. She went into his room and took a deep breath, dropping her bag. The first thing she noticed was the door leading to a bathroom. Hermione marveled at it. It wasn't that a bathroom was so astonishing but more of she hadn't been able to shower in quite awhile.

Hermione picked up her bag again and entered the bathroom. She took out her magic pager given to her by the ministry and turned the volume all the way up. Then she set it down on the bathroom counter and started the shower. Once the water got to a satisfactory temperature, Hermione stripped off the clothes she was wearing and got in.

The warm water ran down her body, relaxing her stiff muscles. She was being honest when talking to Malfoy about her job. She loved what she did. It sucked at times when she had to turn down invitations given to her by friends or cancel plans at the last minute, but the job was rewarding. Hermione was in the position as Private Field Auror. It meant that she,  was assigned to the most gruesome and dangerous cases. Harry ran the head of the Auror Department and helped her out whenever she needed. He was one of the few people to understand that Hermione was a big girl who could take care of herself and didn't hesitate when giving her her cases. The only time Harry had ever been reluctant was on the very case Hermione was currently working on - the muggleborn serial killer. 

Hermione remembered the day Harry gave her the assignment. He'd called her into his office, a place dangerous to everyone. It was always cluttered with papers from floor to, sometimes, ceiling. Harry had smiled sadly when Hermione entered and his face turned serious the second she sat down. 

"I'm not going to sugarcoat it," he'd said, "i'm tempted to give this to Malfoy and tell him to consult only me and keep you out of it."

Hermione had waited for him to continue, trusting he had a reason for what he had just said and for whatever would follow. 

"There has been a series of murders in the muggle world. One thing they all have in common, that the muggles haven't figured out, it that they're muggleborns. The muggle prime minister is struggling to keep the police forces from making the connection. If they look far enough into the victims lives, they'll see that they all went to a boarding school Scotland. It won't take long after that for them to realize our secret and out us. If that happens, we'll have a full blown war - worse than what we had against Voldemort.

"You, being muggleborn, are already a target. If I put you on this case, no matter how hard we try to keep it secret, the press will find out and everyone else will after that. And it will only be a matter of time before our killer tries to come for you. I'm not hesitating this because of your blood. I don't want to give you this because you're my sister and if you died because of something I told you do; to go up against a threat that may be worse than Voldemort, by yourself, I . . . I don't think I'd be able, or any of our friends would be able, to get over that.

"So, I'm giving you the option," Harry said, reaching beneath his desk and pulling out a file. He set it on his desk so the label was upright to Hermione. "You can take it or leave it."