Oliver Wood landed expertly outside the grounds of Malfoy Manor. With his clearance level, he could have landed directly at the scene of the crime, but he wanted a moment to collect his thoughts. He stared through the bars of the wrought iron gates, taking in the mansion in all its glory. Apple trees swayed in the breeze, their soft, pink blossoms waving a gentle welcome to him. It was spring, the time of new life.
The irony did not escape him.
The albino peacock strutting past the gate did not falter when it saw Oliver. It turned its gaze towards him, preened one wing, and carried on its search for a roosting spot. He watched it walk away, and then taking a breath, Apparated directly into the grounds right in front of the granite steps leading up to the front door.
The message had come through less than ten minutes ago. The Ministry needed their best man on the case and Oliver Wood “ former Puddlemere Keeper turned Ministry Law Enforcer “ was the best they had. Intensely private, he was adept at sifting through others' secrets in a manner that laid the case bare before the criminal had time to run for cover.
“Wood, you’re needed,” his superior, Gerald Fairweather, called as he handed him the note. “Utmost discretion required, okay?”
“Of course,” Oliver said, sighing. His eyes flicked over the address and he groaned. Bloody Malfoy Manor. What had happened now? Probably Draco lashing out at a journalist again. “You really need me on this, sir?”
“Astoria Greengrass has been murdered, just before her engagement party,” came the succinct reply. “You bet your arse I need you there!”
Oliver whistled as the image of the glamorous girl flittered into his brain. Astoria Greengrass, known as the Zeitgeist Girl, whose picture appeared in The Prophet more times than Harry Potter’s, was an icon for the age. Known as much for her charitable deeds as her partying, Astoria was devastatingly witty, with looks that could put a Veela in the shade. The only flaw in her armoury was her recent engagement to Draco Malfoy. The Prophet wondered why, but hinted at an arrangement made between the families. Witch Weekly went further and described Astoria as trapped in a gilt prison. Only The Quibbler ignored her (but then The Quibbler ignored anything that wasn’t blibbering)
About to leave for home, it had taken Oliver mere minutes to gather up his things; there was no one he needed to consult, no one to inform that he’d be delayed, and no one to kiss goodbye.
He was surprised when the door opened before he’d knocked, and even more surprised when someone landed in his arms. Clearly distressed, the woman’s face was streaked with mascara, her hair dishevelled, an unlit cigarette hanging from her mouth.
“Miss Greengrass,” Oliver said gently, then corrected himself. “Miss Daphne Greengrass.”
She pulled herself free, and sniffing loudly, she nodded. “Yes, who are ... Oh! It’s you, Wood.”
Oliver stopped himself from grimacing at the imperious tone in her voice. He was well known to the higher echelons of wizarding society, having investigated a number of jewel thefts recently. His name and picture had appeared in the newspapers, usually with the caption ‘Dead Wood’ underneath because so far he’d been unsuccessful. The last time he’d seen Daphne Greengrass she’d been scathing about his attempts to recover the emerald bracelet her new boyfriend, Marcus Flint, had given her. She’d openly laughed when he’d said he was working hard on the case and hoped to crack it soon.
“No wonder they call you ‘Dead’ Wood,” she’d mocked. “You couldn’t find your arse with a Summoning Spell. Obviously the Bludgers did more damage than you let on.”
She was not laughing now, though. “You must be here for Draco,” she said shakily. “He’s inside. Marcus is guarding him.”
“I’m here to investigate a murder, Miss Greengrass,” he murmured. “I can’t make assumptions based on your suspicion.”
“You won’t need to investigate anything. Draco was arguing with Tori when she died. We all heard them. Plus he’s admitted it!”
“Really?” Oliver was puzzled. The message from Malfoy Manor proclaiming Astoria’s death had been barely twenty minutes ago, but if Draco was the culprit, Oliver was surprised he’d been called in at all.
“I was not going to let them cover things up!” she said savagely as she read his mind. “Not this time.”
Oliver paused and then touched her gently on the arm. “Miss Greengrass,” he murmured, “I need to see the-” he faltered, not waiting to use the word ‘body’ in front of her, “- scene of the crime and talk to Malfoy myself. Will you show me where to go?”
“Draco’s in the dining room. Marcus used a Sticking Charm and bound him to the table.”
Oliver stifled a snort; the thought of Draco struggling to free himself was making his insides squirm with laughter, but he made sure as he entered the house that his face remained impassive. He didn’t need directions. The sound of raised voices led him through the vast hallway, under the sparkling chandelier and towards the huge oak double doors that closed the room.
“I insist you release my son!” Oliver heard Lucius Malfoy bellow.
“Marcus, if you touch those bonds you’ll be freeing a murderer!” Herbert Greengrass bellowed back.
“You have no proof.”
“HE ADMITTED IT!” shrieked Camelia Greengrass. “Ask him yourself!”
“That’s rather difficult now that you’ve cast a Silencing Spell, you ridiculous witch!”
“I’ve cast nothing,” she screeched. “Your precious son is playing dumb.”
Oliver had heard enough. Without knocking, he strode into the room. “Oliver Wood, Ministry Law Enforcer. Release him,” he ordered Flint peremptorily.
Despite being the investigating officer in the recent jewel thefts, Oliver hadn’t seen Flint for years. He recognised him instantly, though. It wasn’t the muscular frame or black hair, more the vicious smirk on his face as he stared insolently at Oliver. He resisted the urge to hex the smug look off Flint’s face by reminding himself that not only had he thrashed Flint at Quidditch when they’d been captains, but that Flint had never made it past the third reserve team for the Arrows. His bulk could not make up for his lack of finesse in front of the hoops.
“I said ‘Release him,’” he repeated in a dangerous tone.
Languidly, Flint raised his wand and with a slightly bored flick of his wrist cast the counter-curse. Draco, however, didn’t move. Oliver approached the table, wondering if some other hexes were being used to restrain the man, but he could detect nothing else; Draco was just immobile.
“Say nothing!” Lucius hissed to his son as he pulled him off the table.
To Oliver it seemed as if Draco was beyond any sort of speech. His lips were pale, his eyes staring bleakly at Oliver. He tried to raise his hand to straighten his robes, but even that effort seemed beyond him.
“Draco Malfoy, I’m-“
“YOU CANNOT ARREST HIM!” Lucius shouted, clutching Draco to him. “There is no evidence, beyond the babblings of their stupid daughter.”
“Mr Malfoy,” commanded Oliver, “I am not here to arrest anyone ... yet.” He turned to Draco saying in a much gentler tone, “I have been told you were with Miss Greengrass when she died. I need to see the body and for you to tell me what happened.”
Draco nodded dumbly then licked his lips. “Follow me,” he rasped. “She’s upstairs.”
Daphne was lurking by the staircase when they emerged from the dining room. With her cigarette now lit, and her hair back in place, she cast a look of such intense hatred at Draco that Oliver thrust himself forward and raised his wand to her. She glared at him venomously, but stepped away.
“I’d like to see my sister,” she muttered.
Oliver nodded. “If you’re sure, but you cannot interfere. This is a crime scene.”
“I know,” she replied. “I just need “” she took a breath, “- I need to be there for her, whatever happens.”
Wondering whether her reason quite rang true, Oliver let her follow them to the bedroom. He stopped Draco from entering first then stepped over the threshold. It was a large room, and very ornate for a guest room. The ivory coloured carpet was plush under his boots, the curtains of heavy silk brocade were partly drawn leading the early evening twilight to cast a silvery gloom around them. Silently, Oliver cast Lumos, and peered around the room. Impeccably tidy, there was nothing here to suggest an argument between Draco and his fiancée.
Nothing except that Astoria Greengrass, clad in a blue silk dress and a feather concoction on her head, was sprawled by the hearth, face down on a crimson red rug.
He could smell something odd, something out of place in this immaculately clean room. Casting his eyes across the bed, he studied the scene carefully.
“Mr Malfoy, can you tell me what happened between the pair of you?”
Draco blanched, unable to tear his eyes away from the body on the hearth. He started to mumble something about finding Astoria, and an argument ensuing because she shouldn’t have been here.
“What’s that?” Oliver demanded. “Why was she not allowed in here?”
“It’s not her room,” Draco replied. “This is my mother’s bedroom. She’s away at the moment, but is due back tonight for the dinner party. I saw Astoria in here and asked her what she was doing. She started arguing, accusing me of not trusting her and then ...” He shuddered.
“You became violent and hit her!” Daphne accused, stepping into the room
“No, no,” he protested, his voice coming back to life. He looked away from Daphne, staring directly at Oliver. “She changed tack. She had been shouting, but then she laughed and started to kiss me. It was ... odd. But then, Astoria has been odd recently. Even you thought so, Daph.”
“Odd? In what way?” Oliver asked, addressing the question to both of them.
“Since she got here, she’s been nagging me,” Draco muttered. “Astoria wanted to wear my mother’s diamonds tonight for our engagement party. I said she’d have to ask my mother because they’re a Black heirloom, but she didn’t want to wait. She became almost obsessive about it, and ...” He trailed off, and then looked back at the body on the bed. “I should have just let her wear them, but I couldn’t understand why she was so desperate.”
“You said Miss Greengrass tried to kiss you; was that the end of the argument?”
Draco shook his head. “She was kissing me, but it felt odd, I told you that. I pushed her away, and started shouting that she couldn’t get round me that way. She lunged at me. Merlin she didn’t even have her wand on her. I pushed her off again “ this time more forcefully and she fell back on the hearth.”
“Are you seriously claiming this was an accident?” yelled Daphne. “She’s dead, Draco! And you killed her. It wasn’t just pushing her away, you must have shoved her really hard.”
“She was moving, though,” Draco whimpered. “I stormed out, but she was still moving ... and speaking.” He gasped at the sudden memory. “She said my name. She called out to me. Oh sweet Merlin, she was still alive when I left.” His face brightened, momentarily, but almost instantly fell into shadow as he turned back to the body on the hearth rug. ”She was pregnant. It was my baby. And I don’t care what The Prophet says, I loved her.”
Recognising the very depths of despair in Draco’s voice, Oliver placed his hand on the younger man’s arm. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but I need you to tell me if there’s anything different here? If she was still alive, then it’s possible someone else came in and murdered her.”
“Er...” Draco cast his eyes around the room, then his eyes zeroed in on something on the fireplace. “There’s a cigarette there. Neither Astoria or I smoke and ...” He frowned down at the body. “Her engagement ring has gone ... but ...” He turned back to Daphne. “She had long gloves on, so I don’t know if she was wearing the ring tonight.”
“Can you confirm that, Miss Greengrass?” asked Oliver.
“Er ... yes.” Daphne sounded hesitant. “She was definitely wearing gloves when I last saw her.”
“Which was?”
“When we were getting ready for the party. I was surprised because I thought she’d want to show off the ring, but Tori said the silk gloves made her outfit and she wanted to wear them.” Daphne shrugged. “She has ... er ... had ... a great sense of style, no doubt she was right.”
Something didn’t add up. Oliver stared at the body on the rug, trying to work out what his gut instinct was telling him. Holding up his wand, he asked Draco and Daphne to stay where they were whilst he examined the body. He knelt down by the body, casting the wand light over the recumbent form. Her fist was clenched, and unfurling her fingers, he saw a teardrop shaped diamond glistening in her hand. Placing it in his pocket, he stared once again at the dead woman, and this time did a double take.
“Mr Malfoy, when did you last see Astoria alive?”
“Uh ... about an hour ago.”
“And what colour was her hair?”
“Blonde, of course.”
Oliver straightened up. “This girl has black hair. It’s difficult to see in this light, especially as she was wearing that headpiece, but ...” He turned his head, and smiled grimly. “I’m not sure who this is, but it isn’t Astoria Greengrass.”
“B...but, that’s impossible!” Draco exclaimed as he took a stride towards the body. “I argued with her in this room. She was wearing that dress, and that stupid feather thing in her hair. Are you telling me I wouldn’t have known my own fiancée?”
“Not if she was taking Polyjuice Potion. I thought I smelled something funny when I walked in. I suspect she had a flask of it to hand.” Crouching down by the body, he carefully turned the girl’s face from the floor. “Do either of you recognise her?”
“Oh yes,” Daphne said harshly. “ I think we both recognise her, don’t we, Draco? Pansy Parkinson was in our year at school.” She took a drag of her cigarette. “If anyone deserved to die, it would be her.”
Zeitgeist by Equinox Chick
Chapter Endnotes: Please wish Kara a happy birthday. She's a wonderful Mod who works very hard.