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How To Train Your Auror 2: Family Ties	By : Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 7990 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I will not make a profit from this story

Chapter List
- 27
- 28
- 29
Special thanks to waymay, of course, for her diligent efforts in keeping me up to task, even when I nag the crap out of her. Special love to her and to LightofEvolution this week. You both are amazing, vibrant women that I could only hope to mature like one day. In the meantime, my childishness and I applaud and thank you.
~A.
It's not the way that you saw your life
The one you love she's not your wife
You only wanted to make your father proud
And buy your mom a house
If you could do it again
How would you do it
Would you go back
And do what you never got round to
But you know, yeah you know that's not how it works
If you could be someone else
Would you do it
If you could choose from a shelf
Would you take a new self
But you know, yeah you know that's not how it works
"If You Could" by KONGOS
"Are you sure you two want to do this?" Harry asked, fidgeting nervously with his wand as he stood in the center of the room. Hermione, kneeled across from Diggle, who also held the same stance, nodded.
"Yes."
Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced over to Draco, who sat in the very corner of the Inn's provided bedroom, leaned against the wall. His knees were drawn up, and he glared towards the pair with an obvious disdain. He was nervous. It was written over every line in his face. He made his opinion known the moment Hermione proposed it to the other Aurors: he didn't trust Diggle, and he didn't want to watch as his future wife bound herself to him in a killer contract. He knew what it felt like first hand to be on the end of one, not once but twice. And he didn't want her caught up in it.
"It's the only way," she said to him quietly, earning a scoff in return as he tore his eyes away from her. She would talk to him about it once they were through.
"Shall we get this over with?" Diggle sneered bitterly, offering out his hand. He refused to look Hermione in the eye since they arrived back at the tavern, no doubt absorbed in his new found guilt. He would need to look at her, however, when the spell was cast. Otherwise, the repercussions could result disastrously. Hermione, in a show of confidence, thrust out her hand and clasped Diggle's tightly. It was, then, he chanced a glance at her, the dark circles under his eyes ever prominent. He nodded once, firmly, and gave a half-smile. "On we go."
Harry stepped forward, extending his wand arm and pointing towards the pair. "On the count of three? One."
"Two." Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat.
Diggle pursed his lips. "Three."
"Will you, Gregory Diggle, do whatever it takes to ensure Draco fulfils his Unbreakable Vow?"
"I will."
A thin stream of flamed rope emitted from Harry's wand, coiling around their hands like hot wire. The sensation burned but only slightly.
"And will you stand by his side, no matter the outcome, and ensure his safety as well as his life?"
"I will."
Another curling of flames, much tighter this time.
"Even if it means sacrificing your own?"
Diggle frowned, though he nodded and said, "I will."
A final strip of flame escaped Harry's wand and bound their hands tightly together. The flames burned brighter for half a moment before fading into their linked hands, leaving behind a faded red mark where the fire ribbon once lay.
"It's done," Harry said.
Hermione released Diggle's hand at once and rose to stand. She didn't dare look over to Draco -not yet, in any case. She and Harry exchanged telling glances before he looked down to the downtrodden Diggle and said, "Right. Let's go."
"Go?" Diggle muttered aimlessly, staring at the floor. "Go where?"
"Do you, or do you not, want to ascertain, once and for all, who your father's murderer is?"
"You… would do that?"
"Not my idea. Hermione's." He gestured towards the brunette. "She pointed out even if you are the world's most insane criminal, your father still deserves justice. So, let's go look into Lucius's memories. Maybe you'll see something she's missed."
Another scoff was heard from Draco's corner of the room, but the rest of the party ignored him. Diggle glanced up at Hermione, face stern and soft all at once. "Thank you."
There was a tear in Hermione's emotional barrier -she still loathed Diggle with a passion, but she also felt pity on the man. Ron's memory had done a bang up job of breaking the nearly impenetrable psyche of Greg Diggle, though she still wondered how well she could trust it, even now.
"Come on." Harry walked to the door, Diggle following closely behind. "Let's give these two room to talk."
When the door shut behind them, Hermione turned to Draco, crossing her arms. "You could have been a little more supportive, you know."
"Oh, yes. Let's do that. Let's be supportive of putting someone else in harm's way on my account? Even if it is fucking Diggle…" Draco pulled his knees to his chest, resembling Scorpius after he threw a temper tantrum. Like father like son.
"Is that what this is about? You're… worried for Diggle?"
"Worry is putting it strongly." A cold smirk cracked his exterior. "Don't get me wrong. If the sod drops dead, it'll be swift justice for all the pain he's caused. But I know the burden of an Unbreakable Vow, and how heavy it weighs on one's chest. I wouldn't wish it on my greatest enemy." He simmered in his own thoughts for a time, giving Hermione the cue she needed to sit down beside him. "I can't wrap my head around it. How the mirror was able to crack him open like a dragon's egg."
"Ron." She could already feel the tears pressing under the surface of her eyelids, begging to be spilled. She fought them back, for now, hoping to ease his mind. Though, she knew that was a fantasy. Anything she said about the events in the mirror would only shake him. But they needed to be said, and she needed to be the one to say them. "Even after death, he can build a pretty convincing case."
"Are we talking about Diggle now? Or you?" His silver eyes drifted in her direction, but they concentrated on the ringlets of her hair, never quite meeting her gaze.
"I suppose I deserve that," she whispered, scooting closer to him. Hermione didn't take no for an answer as she reached over and wove their fingers together. "Ron's death is always there, just beneath the surface. We should have known it would come up, eventually."
"We've been fooling ourselves into thinking we could ignore it. -And now, with the stone and the book…" He cleared his throat. "Well, I could use a drink. Shall I fetch something from the bar downstairs and bring it up?"
She nodded, daring a soft smile. "Something strong, I imagine. We're going to need it."
An owl arrived late afternoon informing the search for the estranged kitten would be called off, and the hold on the Auror Division would be unfrozen. Dean sighed a breath of relief when he received the news, though he still didn't feel confident in the knowledge he would escort two of the wizarding world's most hated socialites home. It wasn't that he despised them -quite the opposite. Narcissa Malfoy, for all her cold upbringing, seemed to have a softer interior when given the opportunity. And Lucius Malfoy, the bastard he was, still posed no threat anyone, what with his powers stripped away. If anything, he pitied them as he gathered his coat and casework from his desk, hastily shoving papers into his briefcase.
Auror Jameson, to no surprise, arrived at the edge of Dean's desk, arms folded and face stoic. "Any news?"
"No. But Luna will get to the bottom of it. She's great at her job, no matter what the tabloids say."
"Isn't the Quibbler, in itself, a tabloid?" Dean's eyes snapped upwards to Jameson, who added, "Pardon. I meant no disrespect."
"You wanted someone without the Ministry's teeth sunk in already, remember? She'll get there. Just give her time."
"Of course." Theodore nodded. "Thank you again, Auror Thomas."
"Sure." Dean pocketed the last of his things and forced a smile, despite feeling overworked and emotionally spread thin like butter. "Although, I can't help you if I can't get ahold of you. -I'm all for an owl for pleasantries, but the wizarding world really should catch up with technology."
"It is my understanding that electronic devices short circuit easily around magic."
Sigh. Of course, Theodore would have an answer to everything. "Maybe there's another way." Dean sat his bag down, pulled out a two spare bits of parchment from his desk, and waved his wand about. Then, he handed one to Jameson. "Two-way parchment."
Jameson stared down at the paper with awe. "Creativity at its finest."
"More like childishness -but it'll get the job done. If either of us have something to say to each other, we write it down. Yeah?"
"Yes." Jameson nodded. "Agreed."
"Great." With a hefty tow of an overly stuffed briefcase, Dean made his way over to the Malfoys, who, once again, found themselves in the corner of the room, shunned by most. Astoria Greengrass was in the process of buttoning Scorpius's coat a healthy footage away, and it took everything in the Auror not to go up and say goodbye. Duty before personal endeavours. "Missus Malfoy. Mister Malfoy. Are we ready to leave?"
"That sounds marvelous," Narcissa replied, patting her lap. Though her tone was chipper, her face said it all; she was emotionally drained, same as Dean. "Perhaps… you'd like to join Lucius and I for dinner?"
"Cissy," snarled Lucius, but she would have none of it.
"I make an excellent roast, when push comes to shove. My mother's recipe. We could speak on happier times…"
Dean knew where she was going with this. She wanted to discuss Draco: his life before now, of Scorpius, and all she missed. It was easier than thinking of the alternative: discussing Draco rotting in a cell right about now.
"Sure, Missus Malfoy. I'd appreciate it."
*(*)*
There's a rustling in the trees. Harry stands next to Diggle, watching him stare around the soon to be crime scene. He recognizes the look from years of working together; Greg is casing the area for important details. A pop nearby catches both their attentions, and they turn together, following the sound. Three cloaked figures stand near the edge of the road. Their backs are turned.
Diggle makes no qualms about crossing the threshold of the soppy grass (it looks like it's rained recently), stopping just short of the Death Eaters -obvious from the masks they wear.
"Are you sure he will be here?" asks one, his voice low and gruff.
"Do you doubt me?" This second one is higher and carries arrogance.
"This wouldn't be the first time you've been a disappointment to the cause."
A scoff. "This coming from someone who spends most of their time with their tail tucked between their legs? Do not get cocky. I am still within the Dark Lord's favor. A high bit more than you."
The third figure remains quiet, staring down the road as headlights breach the horizon.
"Are you sure he will have it?" sneers the first voice.
"My sources are absolute. He knows the location. We will simply need to… persuade him to talk."
Greg audibly snarls under his breath, balling his fists. "No doubt about it. Lucius Malfoy."
"Yup," Harry agrees. "The second one sounds familiar. Crabbe Senior, I think?"
"Pudgy enough to be," comments Diggle, circling the rounder Death Eater. "Though I never came across him personally to know." He looks to the third cloaked figure. "Which leaves door number three…"
The headlights brighten as they approached, and it's written all over Diggle's face: the torment, the anguish. Watching this murder will not be easy for him. Good, Harry thinks. Let it be a reflection of what he did to Ron's family and friends. Let it be a reflection of the pain Hermione and I have suffered these three years. Let him hurt.

When the car is but a small distance off, Lucius raises his wand and whispers, "Noctes." The engine roars once before sputtering and clicking. At the same time, the headlights dim, then fade. The car comes to a rolling stop before the three, silent as the grave. Only the wind howls through the tree branches, casting an ominous impression on the scene.
The car door creaks open, and a man steps out of the car. He wears a tailored, three piece robe ensemble, which fits his slender frame quite nicely. He wears his brown tresses slicked back, accentuating his rugged features. All in all, he looks precisely like an older version of Diggle, save but for the eyes, which are narrower, blue, and hold a sense of wisdom far beyond his years. As he steps around the car door and shuts it, he unclasps the first button of his robes and tilts his head. He might appear calm on the outside, but it's written in his eyes: he's nervous.
Douglas Diggle clears his throat. "So, it's come to this, has it?"
"We needn't shed blood here tonight," says Lucius, stepping forward. "We come only for that which is requested. Have you brought it?"
A chill jolts down Harry's spine. This is his first witness of these events, and already, the tables have shifted. He watches Greg hackle, sputtering out, "No. No, he wouldn't-"
"-I have. As agreed." From inside his pockets, Douglas presents a book. "But I must have your word on this. My family is to be left alone."
"Of course." Lucius steps forward, his hand out. "As agreed."
Douglas is poised to hand over the book when the third Death Eater finally reacts, stepping past Lucius and waving his wand over the tome. There's a hiss, and with the flick of the wrist, the book is sent hurdling across the road, landing smack into the car windshield. "You dare present us with a fake?"
A smirk traces Douglas's lips. "I suppose Death Eaters aren't mindless trolls as previously perceived."
"Insolent-" The man raises his wand arm, but Lucius grabs it and yanks him back.
"Calm yourself. Think rationally." He pushes the Death Eater back behind him and steps up to Douglas, squaring him up nose to nose. "You would do well to heed my warning and show gratitude where it should be given." He snaps his fingers in Crabbe's direction. "Search the car."
Crabbe Senior makes quick work of stripping the car bare, searching for any unforeseeable magic. "It's clean. It isn't here."
"You test my patience, Diggle. Your ties to the Ministry will not protect you out here." Harry recognizes that tone instantly. He's heard it in Lucius Malfoy's voice many times; it's desperation. "After all, how will a lowly squib such as yourself defend against three of The Dark Lord's most faithful followers? You'd do well to answer our questions, or we'll be forced to play rough."
"Do what you will. I do not fear you."
Lucius replies back with a smirk of his own. "That is a shame."
"Why do you waste time with this worthless swine?" sneers the third man behind his mask, wand already pointed at Douglas's head. "Crucio!"
Douglas falls to his knees, crying out in unspeakable pain. All Diggle and Harry can do is watch helplessly as he writhes before Lucius, teeth gritted and face reddening.
"We need him!" Lucius shouts.
"It's obvious he doesn't wish to share his information willingly. It is up to us to work on behalf of the Dark Lord. Or have you forgotten your oath?"
Lucius falls quiet as the spell is released from Diggle, who hacks sporadically to catch his breath. Crabbe Senior (presumably) walks up beside the two and brandishes his own wand. "You lot can't have all the fun, now." He points his wand, and white light shoots out of it, slashing across Diggle's face. Giant welts rise up as if he were hit with a small, hot iron. "Heh. That's an improvement, wouldn't you say?"
Douglas is shaking now, on his knees, but still he does not give into the torment. He simply stares up at the men challengingly, daring them to continue. There's another moment Harry recognizes in Lucius -the want to discontinue their efforts, but he pushes onward, grabbing Diggle up by his hair and tilting his head up. "This is a stroll in the gardens compared to what will come. Make this easier on yourself, won't you? Perhaps your death will be painless, at best."
Strong silence sits between the two, until Diggle spits on the mask covering Lucius's face. "Have at me! I will gladly die tonight if it means keeping the Gray away from the likes of your kind!"
"Crabbe. See to it our dear Diggle has a lesson in what it means to respect his superiors." And with that, Lucius steps aside, letting Crabbe take the lead with his powerful fists -Harry winces as he watches Douglas get pulverized again and again, not by magic but through brute strength. It's terrifying, horrific, and he can only imagine how Greg must be feeling as he watches. Harry saves himself, deciding to stare at his ex-Auror counterpart instead. The amount of dismay on Greg's face, paired with the gritting of his teeth, say more than words could ever. He's forced to watch his father get beat into a pulp in the jaw, the nose, the ear, the eyes. He watches as Crabbe tosses him to the ground and gives a swift kick to the ribs. Bones crack. It's humbling in ways that can only be described as pure terror. Douglas begins to vomit blood, but Crabbe continues kicking, hitting, leaving Diggle's face nearly unrecognizable.
Finally, he crouches down beside the broken man and smirks. "I don't need magic to take care of a pompous sod like you." He grabs Douglas up by the scruff of his bloodied collar and stares, hard, into his eyes. "Got something to say, squibby?"
Douglas gargles on his own blood. How he is still conscious is anyone's guess. He manages to say, just above a whisper, "D-Death to the Dark Lord."
Crabbe raises his fist, but it's Lucius who catches it, holding him back. "Enough. If you kill him, the Gray will be lost to us forever."
Crabbe snorts an indigent laugh and jerks Lucius off of him before standing. "Go on, then."
Lucius steps forward, leans over Douglas, and tucks his hands behinds his back. "Do you really think a worthless squib such as yourself will make any headway in The War? Think of your family, Diggle. Think of what will happen should you deny us what we seek?"
"I-I am." Douglas falls back against the street, his head smacking on the concrete. It's obvious he has no energy to sit up a moment longer. "I b-believe in Harry P-Potter."
A sinking hits Harry's stomach, and he chances a glance back at Greg, whose eyes have already drifted to the Auror. "He said that a lot, you know. Any time I would question our place in the War. 'I believe in Harry Potter'." He makes a displeased sound in the back of his throat and crosses his arms, turning back to his father.
Harry is about to answer but then thinks better of it. No need to poke the hornet's nest.
"This is shite," says Crabbe, removing his mask. "We should just kill 'im and get it over with!"
"He's right, Malfoy," says the third man. "It's obvious we shall receive no further information from him. We should have some… fun." The chuckle which escapes his lips is nothing short of maniacal.
"That laugh... " Greg narrows his eyes.
"You know it?"
"Jugson…"
Lucius removes his mask as well, releasing his mane of silver-blond hair. "The Dark Lord's success could be elevated by the use of this object. We should continue our interrogation as planned."
"As if I'll take orders from the likes of you." Jugson points his wand at Lucius. "Maybe once, but not now. You're simply a subservient footrest to our Lord's 've grown soft -the Dark Lord sees that. It is obvious this squib needs to be taught his place in the world." He leans over Douglas and jerks his sleeve up, ripping the fabric in the process. "I suggest you clench your jaw, less you bite your tongue off. This will hurt you more than it will me, after all." Jugson presses his wand into Douglas's flesh and begins to carve, the tip lighting up in red.
Slowly, he carves the S. The Q. The U, I, and finally, the B. Each letter brings forth a new sense of agony in Douglas Diggle as he cries out, screams, and jerks helplessly. His body is far too tired to struggle, so he sobs as his arm cuts open like a hot blade being pressed into his skin. When it's over, he puts his free hand over his face and tenderly cries.
Harry snaps his eyes over to Diggle, who allows a single tear to drip down his cheek. There's more heart here than Harry has ever seen him give. More humility. More humanity. That mirror must have broken him something good, or, at the very least, somewhere inside the calloused individual still beats the heart of a man. He reminds himself there's a monster inside, too. A dark, feral creature who has only recently been tamed. But for how long remains a mystery.
Jugson laughs, throwing his masked face back with enjoyment. Then, like slow motion, he jerks his wand upwards, shouting, "Ascendio!" Douglas flies up into the air. "Ascendio!" Further he goes.
"What are you doing?" Lucius shouts.
"Having some fun, Malfoy! You should try it sometime. Ascendio!" Over and over he sends Douglas higher into the air, letting him fall a ways before doing it again. Fear grips Harry's heart as sympathy courses through his veins. He wants to step in, to stop it all. He isn't the only one.
Greg charges the memory of Jugson, falls through his body, and topples to the ground. The scene continues, unabashed.
"Remember this, squib! Because I come for your family next!"
And with that, Jugson withdraws his wand and sends Diggle on a crash course towards the pavement.
"No!" Greg shouts just before the body cracks against the rough surface.
Harry closes his eyes. He can't will himself to look a moment longer.
"Father!"
He doesn't need to open his eyes to know Diggle takes off at a dead run towards his father.
"Greg!" Harry shouts. "You can't save him."
With a flurry like mud being mixed from the bottom of a lake, the scene dissolved around them, and Harry pulled his head from the Pensieve. He yanked Diggle out as well, meeting green eyes as round as gold galleons. Diggle's breathing was rampid, but after a time to collect his thoughts, he settled into an icy, fixed stare.
"You said Jugson," said Harry, "Are you sure?"
"Yes. I'd remember that laugh anywhere. He laughed the entire way through his sentencing. I was the Auror to bring him in, after all…"
Harry nodded, knowing the name sounded more familiar than just another Death Eater from the past. "Jugson's already in Azkaban- He's the same Death Eater who-" He cut himself off, realizing…
Diggle nods. "-Yes. He murdered Dean's father, too."
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How To Train Your Auror 2: Family Ties