分卷阅读15（1 / 2）

Draco had kept his gaze cooly trained on the pair of green eyes staring back at him in the lobby. Potter had removed his charmed disguise, and Draco felt a twinge of relief at the sight of him, if only because Eversworn’s bloated face had no business harboring those eyes. When the doors to the lift finally closed and broke the trance he’d been in, he shook himself and answered, “The two aren’t mutually exclusive, Pans. I am Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, and I work for the Department of Mysteries.”

“I know you can’t tell me anything,” Pansy sighed. “But maybe you can explain why a disguised Potter was being questioned in relation to Bertrice’s disappearance?” Draco turned to her then, the soothing relief of her fierce and inquisitive mind a consolation, and he felt his features soften in affinity for her. She quirked an eyebrow and added, “And maybe why you couldn’t take your eyes off each other just now?”

“Irrelevant,” Draco rolled his eyes. The lift doors opened and ushered them out.

Pansy followed him to his room and watched him use the spell key followed by a series of precise wand movements to open his door. He glanced at her, but she maintained her unimpressed Get on with it look, pushing past him into the room as soon as the locks were undone.

“How do you know this is Malfoy’s room?” Hermione asked.

Harry’s jaw clenched. “I just know, okay.” The scene of himself, oddly dressed and irritated, flashed across his memory.

Hermione sighed. “You haven’t been following him again?”

“I have absolutely not been following him,” Harry bristled. “If anything, he’s been following me.”

“Malfoy broke into his flat,” Ron offered. And at that, Hermione wore a look of mild confusion.

Harry reached for the door. The anticipation prickled from his neck down his spine, and he mildly wondered why. He somehow knew Malfoy and Parkinson were on the other side, and with them, any number of clues and answers. As he hesitated, the cool metal of the doorknob in his palm, Harry wondered why it felt less like an entrance and more like a precipice; as if the moment Harry walked through the doorway, he would be jumping off the point of no return. The rush of purpose flooded him, and he opened the door.

The trio walked in to a superior suite decorated in lavish, deep tones of green and blue, earthy and yet extravagant. Harry recognised the layout as they entered the sitting room, an open set of double doors led to the bedroom behind the seating area. Malfoy and Pansy sat on the sofa, staring at the group of them in expectation.

“It took you long enough,” Malfoy finally said. He leaned forward and reached into a bowl of fruit on the coffee table. Looking pleased, he grabbed an apple and sat back. “Did you get lost on the way up?”

Harry was sure he did a terrible job hiding his surprise. “You expected us?”

Parkinson snorted.

Hermione leaned in and whispered, “You were leering at Malfoy from across the lobby.”

Harry turned with the intention of correcting her—he unequivocally had not been leering at Malfoy, perhaps glowering, sneering maybe—but then something odd caught Harry’s eye. In the corner of the sitting room stood a large case board covered in photographs, notes, and Cerforth Hippolyle’s It’s Solved Then! Every Color Case String. Harry and Ron practically fell over moving to get a better look at it.

Zivantus was pinned to the top of the board and a lovely photo of Bertrice underneath his. To the right, a series of names and photos of people Harry didn’t recognise. Places like Jones Distillery and Hantocrave Downs were listed and had various colors of string connecting them to individuals on the board. Pinned down the center, a large clock face with the hands at a quarter to seven had lots of strings connecting to people and places. On the left, Harry recognised what could only be a Gringott’s vault inventory list of items, some of which had missing written in neat script next to them. There was also a blueprint of the hotel, and to the farthest left of the board, a photo of an older woman labeled Gertrude Lockhart.

“This isn’t bad work,” Ron said absentmindedly. When he realized he’d said it out loud, he slapped a hand over his mouth.

Harry turned around in time to see Malfoy’s lip quirk. “Thank you, Weasley.” His grey eyes flitted to Harry. “I had help.” Harry gave him a questioning look. Malfoy stared at his apple and asked, “Did you have a productive visit at the DMLE?”

Harry almost choked. “I’m sorry?”