《The Dragon's Treasure (Fem!Harry x Draco)》Yule (Year Three)
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I do not own Harry Potter, or it's characters. This is merely a work of fanfiction.
I listened to your feedback, friends. I had a few people say they would like to see more of Holly and Draco as they are dating and getting to know each other better. I hear ya friends. I have made a conscious effort to refocus on them in this chapter. I may at some point do a collection of outtakes from the other characters. This is a story primarily about Holly/Draco but I love the others too much to neglect them. I hope you all are doing well. Enjoy :)
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Remus was right on the verge of something, he could feel it in his bones. He was supposed to return to the pack tomorrow for the rest of Yule break. He had read through so many newspapers, and there was something that was bothering him.
He drew a timeline in the air with his magic. It filled the room with a golden glow. With another flick of his wand the newspapers came flying toward him, hovering in the air. He looked between the timeline he had drawn and the newspapers, adding pertinent dates to the timeline.
An hour later he was staring at the timeline dumbfounded. It couldn't be a coincidence that all the followers of the Olde Ways died right before the first war. There was a score of deaths in the five years prior to the war on both sides. The Potter's, the Black's, the Fortescues, the Malfoy's, the Lestranges, even the former Lord Longbottom.
The deaths were all reported as natural, due to some sickness. But laid out like this, it was difficult not to see the deeper meaning. The children of these families had been pulled into the brewing conflict. With nothing left to lose, they threw themselves into fighting a bloody war.
Remus reached out his hand towards the names Charlus and Dorea Potter. He loved them so, Dorea was the closest thing he ever had to a mother. Fenrir was not one for romance, and had never married.
He was certain now that Dumbledore had something to do with these deaths. The Potter's, the Fortescues, and the late Lord Longbottom at the very least. A heartbroken howl ripped through his chest before he could stop it. He wondered if he would ever stop mourning those he had lost.
He stripped off his suit jacket and grabbed a broom from the side of his desk. He threw open his window and rode down to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He dismounted the broom quickly before he transformed. He howled loudly into the night, and ran through the forest until he saw the first light of dawn.
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"What do we do?" Lady Malfoy asked. The question hung in the air. Lady Malfoy turned her head at Mipsy's soft voice, and saw her holding the letter. Lord Malfoy had dropped it in his rage.
"What's that Mipsy?" she asked, drawing closer to her elf.
"The wizard who sent this was careless. It reeks of his magic. It is familiar mistress, one of those mean men with the masks. Theys was terrible, they was."
Lady Malfoy shuddered, but drew closer to Mipsy. Elves had remarkable abilities. Perhaps she could remember which Death Eater this magical signature belonged to, or track him down.
"Do you know which one?" she asked.
Lord Malfoy and Lord Black watched in fascination. They knew elves were gifted, but to remember a magical signature a decade later was remarkable.
"There were two that were always together. So nasty, so vile."
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"What are their names?" Lord Malfoy demanded impatiently.
"Dolohov," Mipsy squeaked, "and Crouch Junior."
Lady Malfoy straightened up and backed into her husband's arms. Mipsy was right. Those were two of the worst options she could think of. Crouch Junior was supposed to be dead, and last she heard Dolohov was living in Siberia.
"Can you track where the letter came from?" Lord Black asked. Mipsy looked at Lady Malfoy nervously but nodded her head.
"I can track where it was sent from."
"Then go, but take Kreacher with you. I don't want anything happening to either of you."
With Lady Malfoy's nod of approval, Mipsy popped off to fetch Kreacher. They adjourned to the study while they waited for the elves to come back.
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"We tracked them to a muggle house. It was the abandoned Riddle house, Master."
Lord Black and Lord Malfoy traded looks of concern. Few people would be so devoted to seek out the home of the former Dark Lord's muggle father. The Dark Lord had despised his muggle family, that was well known. Only a fanatic like Barty would even bother.
"It looked like they cleared out quickly. They knew we would find them, they did."
Lord Black beamed with pride at his house elf. He was a sharp little thing.
"Did you recognize any other magical signatures?" Lord Malfoy enquired. They needed to know what they were dealing with.
"I agree with Mipsy," Kreacher piped up, "I remembers the young Crouch from when you were in school, but I don't be knowing this Dolohov. Me thinks is young Crouch. The magic is familiar."
"He's supposed to be dead," Lady Malfoy whispered.
Barty Crouch Junior had been one of the most fantical of the Dark Lord's followers, along with Dolohov. She suspected they would have followed anyone that allowed them to spread terror in their wake.
"Clearly he's not," Lord Black spit out.
If Crouch Junior was alive, he was a risk to everyone they loved. Barty and he had been friends in Hogwarts, especially before he realized Pandora was his soulmate. As they got older they drifted apart. Barty got more and more unhinged, and pulled deeper into the Death Eaters.
He knew he would lose his friends when he absconded to Paris, but what was he supposed to do? Stay and get pulled into a war he wanted no part in? No. He had Pandora and Luna to protect. He wouldn't be pulled into their glorified civil war.
"What do we do?" Lady Malfoy asked.
Lord Malfoy raised his eyes to her face. He hadn't seen her so scared since the The War. She was a formidable woman, but this had clearly shaken her. Holly was their daughter now. They loved her as their own.
"Do we go to the Aurors?"
"No," Lord Black and Lord Malfoy chorused.
"If the Aurors are involved then they will want to go through trials, and Merlin knows if justice will ever be served. He's already been in Azkaban once, and managed to get out. No, we keep this to ourselves. We are capable of taking care of Barty. We will call the guard families in the morning. Regulus and I can give the boys extra lessons. The most they should ever have to do is hold off danger until we can get to them."
Lady Malfoy nodded her head. She didn't want to say it, because she knew it was traditional to have guards, but should trouble come Holly's way, she was more than sure the person would end up dead by the force of Holly's magic.
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"It's time to send a message to Barty," Lord Malfoy said confidently.
"What does that mean?" Lord Black asked.
"Get Luna. We have a house to burn down."
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Remus slowed as he approached the camp. They moved fairly often, but their scents remained the same. The smell of campfire smoke, tanned leather, and something that smelled distinctly like his Alpha wafted to him on the wind.
He phased just beyond the edge of the makeshift village and walked through the wards. He knew Fenrir made sure that he could come in and out of them with ease. As long as they were keyed to their family, he would be able to do so.
Children ran through the middle of the camp, laughing boisterously. Remus jolted to a halt as a tiny boy with bright blue hair ran into his shins. He fell back onto his bottom and he pouted sadly. Remus bent down to help him up.
"Better watch out, cub," he laughed as he picked up the boy. The boy crossed his arms and pouted, but his dimples were so pronounced and cute that Remus laughed in response.
"Now where are your parents?" Remus asked, looking around. Fenrir was standing in the entrance to his tent, and Remus nodded at him. Remus looked back at the boy to see he was looking even more upset.
"What is it?"
Fenrir approached, putting one hand on his shoulder. He signed to the little boy, who responded in kind. Remus watched with fascination. The boy wiggled to be put down. Remus released him and he raced after his playmates.
"The cub is mute, Remus. We took him from his parents. They were...less than compassionate about his condition. You can see he is a Metamorphmagus. He can't control it yet."
Remus looked to the direction the boy had run off in, and sure enough his hair was a flaming red. It was an exceptionally rare talent.
"The pack can communicate with him in BSL. He's also fairly effective at getting his point across with his growling. I expect you to learn as quickly as possible. He's pack."
Remus nodded, "Can magic not fix it?"
Fenrir scowled at Remus, "If the bite did not fix it, it can't be fixed. Make no mistake, there is nothing wrong with him. He can communicate just as well as the rest of them, and he will bite you if you try to ignore him. He's just as bad as you, when you were young."
Remus chuckled and followed his father into his tent. It was one of the many that was magically enlarged. Remus followed Fenrir to a sitting area where large oversized pillows were strewn on the floor, and took a seat.
"How is your little witchling?" Fenrir asked.
"Holly is doing well. I am giving her extra lessons in Dueling and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Between you and I, she is going to surpass the Hogwarts Curriculum by her Fifth Year at the latest. At least in dueling and Defense Against the Dark Arts. It's too rudimentary. I wouldn't be surprised if they have to bring in experts to tutor her."
"Will you stay when she no longer needs you?" Fenrir asked.
"That's up to her, and the Pack, isn't it? If the Pack needs me, I will of course return. If not, I will stay with her until she graduates."
Fenrir smiled as he summoned a tea set. His son was finally starting to get it. That was good.
"The Pack is fine, son. Have you made any progress on your investigation?"
Remus' growls filled the tent. Fenrir fixed him with a reproachful look. Remus settled, but didn't have the heart to look remorseful. He was angry.
"There was a slew of deaths during The War-" Remus broke off at the look on Fenrir's face.
"Well it was a war," Fenrir shrugged amusedly. Remus scoffed in frustration.
"No, there was a slew of unexplained deaths. Most right before The War started. All of them were followers of the Olde Ways. The deaths were blamed on illnesses, but never confirmed. Dorea and Charlus Potter. Do you remember them?"
Fenrir nodded his head. He had insisted on meeting them a few times, since Remus ran off to their home every chance he got. He didn't want to force Remus to be with the Pack. He knew he would come back home eventually.
"It was said they died of Dragon Pox, but how are we to know that? We were away at school. Dumbledore was the one who informed James. The late Lord Longbottom, Lord Abraxas Malfoy, the Lestrange brothers, their parents, the Fortescues, there's just too many to be a coincidence."
"You think it was Dumbledore?" Fenrir asked as he took a sip of his tea. A look of deep concentration was upon his face.
"It has to be. Riddle didn't bother to cover his tracks. He would have gladly put a Dark Mark over Potter Manor and danced over their dead bodies. No, it had to be Dumbledore. No one else had the power or connections to cover it up in the Ministry. Someone must have gotten wise at some point."
Fenrir set down his tea and looked at his son seriously.
"And to what end did he do all this? What's the point?"
Remus ran his hands through his hair, huffing in annoyance.
"The obvious answer is to push their children into fighting in The War. But I feel like there's something more. It's like there's a piece I'm missing. The death's have two points of focus, they are either people who could be pivotal in the War, or they are close to Holly. I'm not sure what the common thread is. She wasn't even born when the war started."
Fenrir nodded, "You have time. Let it sit with you over Yule. Then perhaps you should talk to your friend Lord Black. He seems like the type to hold all sorts of secrets. He may have the link you're looking for."
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"Have you seen this?" Holly asked, plopping down beside Draco on the couch in his room. She placed her copy of The Prophet over the book in his hands.
In a small corner of the paper was a picture of a muggle home, burned down to the ashes. A few short paragraphs identified it as the home of the former Dark Lord's muggle father. Draco hissed in a breath between his teeth and set down the paper.
"It says there were no traces of magic found at the scene. Why is this even in our paper?"
Holly hummed in acknowledgement and absentmindedly laced her fingers through Draco's. She thought as she rubbed the back of his hand with her glove covered thumb. He tried not to preen at the attention. It wasn't often they were alone together.
"Do you think we had something to do with it?" she asked.
"Huh? What?" Draco asked dumbly, jolting out of his stupor. Holly laughed and let go of his hand.
"Do you think we, the family, had something to do with this?"
Draco looked back at the picture for a second and thought.
"It seems like something the family would do, though I can't imagine why. Riddle has been dead for a long time. The fact that they couldn't tie it to anyone means they didn't light the fire with spells. It would have to be through muggle means, or maybe a magical creature."
"Like Luna?"
"Like Luna," Draco conceded with a shrug. Her Veela fire would be undetectable. She also had a vengeful streak.
"Does it matter?" he asked as he watched the sun reflect off the pins in Holly's hair. They sparkled like fireflies.
Holly shrugged noncommittally and laced her fingers through his once again.
"Not really."
She rested her head on his shoulder and Draco dropped a kiss on her forehead.
"If it's bothering you, we can ask mother and father tonight. You're allowed to ask questions here."
Holly nodded her head, "Read to me?"
Draco chuckled and picked up his book on magical creatures. He read it to her as she rested her eyes and tried not to worry about the future.
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"So did you have something to do with this?" Draco asked.
Lord Malfoy huffed out a breath of annoyance. They had hoped to keep this from Holly and Draco, so there wouldn't be one more thing weighing on them. They were still young.
Holly fixed Lord Malfoy with her best impersonation of Cissa's serious face, and he couldn't help but chuckle. She crossed her arms and glared even harder. She hated being kept in the dark.
"Sit down, children. Let me call your mother."
Holly took the seat next to Draco and waited. Lady Malfoy entered a moment later with Mipsy trailing after her. She sat next to Lord Malfoy, looking incredibly composed.
"You wish to know if we had something to do with the burning of the Riddle home?"
Draco nodded his head firmly. If Holly wanted to know, they were going to find out.
"You two are quite the pair." Lord Malfoy noted. "Very well. Last night Lord Black received a threat to his home. It was a rather detailed drawing of the Dark Mark. It said that Holly would never be safe."
Holly grabbed Draco's hand in shock, scooting closer to him subconsciously. Draco touched his wand in his pocket instinctively. A threat to Holly was a threat to him. Lucius smirked at his son, he knew exactly what he was thinking.
"I see you understand the gravity of the situation. Mipsy and Kreacher were able to track the magical signature from the letter. They tracked the sender to the old Riddle house. We burned it down to send a message that we will not be intimidated. We take this as a threat to both the House of Black and the Malfoy family. They sent it there because our wards are legendary. It never would have gotten through the wards here."
Holly closed her eyes. She felt like the room was spinning. Was her boggart right? Was she putting her loved ones in danger? Would she be the cause of their ruin? She felt like she was drowning.
She was pulled out of her spiraling thoughts by Draco. He had an arm around her shoulders and was whispering in her ear, "It's not your fault Holly. You didn't do this. It's not your fault."
She gulped for air and nodded her head. She believed Draco. She could trust him. She opened her eyes to see Draco looking at her intently. She blushed under his attention, and swept a stray hair back into her bun.
Draco turned his gaze back to his parents, who were doing a marvelous job of pretending like Holly wasn't on the verge of a panic attack. He was grateful. Once her breathing returned to normal, he asked the question that had immediately sprung to his mind.
"Who sent the letter?"
Lady Malfoy let out a heavy sigh. "This does not leave this room. Barty Crouch Junior is the one who sent the letter. He was a particularly fanatical Death Eater. He was sent to Azkaban, and reported dead years ago."
"What's being done about it? How did he even get out of Azkaban?!" Draco demanded.
"Don't talk to your mother like that," Lord Malfoy chided sternly.
"It's okay," Lady Malfoy replied, "he's just worried. Really Draco, you should have more faith in us. Your father and Lord Black went to search Barty Crouch's mind that same night. Once they had what they needed, they obliviated him. He helped his son escape."
Lord Malfoy watched his son's jaw tick. He knew his subtle signs of anger. They were the same as his own, though he had learned to control them as he aged.
"He is only alive because his sudden disappearance would draw unwanted attention. He's had a hand in planning the Triwizard Tournament taking place at Hogwarts next year. People would ask questions."
Draco stood to his feet in fury. This wasn't acceptable.
"So what?! My soulmate is just supposed to walk around with a target on her back?!"
"Draco," Holly said softly.
He spun, his body still tense with anger. He instantly quelled at the look on her face. She had tears welling in her eyes. In his anger he had forgotten how much she hated when people raised their voices.
"I'm sorry Hols," Draco whispered, sitting back at her side.
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