“Where’s Astoria?” Draco demanded, rounding on Oliver. “Where is my fiancée? You have to find her!”
“Malfoy, you have to calm down,” Oliver ordered. He turned to Daphne and pulled her closer then, with his wand, he closed the bedroom door. “At the moment, we three are the only people who are aware that this is not Astoria Greengrass. It’s too early to tell who the intended victim should have been, but if it was Astoria, then she’s still in danger.”
“So what do you plan on doing?” Draco protested. “Astoria’s pregnant, for Merlin’s sake. You can’t not look for her.”
Ignoring him, Oliver took Daphne’s arm and led her to the window seat. “You’re staying at Malfoy Manor, I believe?”
She nodded. “Yes. The Malfoys are hosting a weekend house party. Tori and I arrived three days ago with our parents. Draco’s mother,” she glanced sideways at Draco, “Narcissa is away, so we said we’d help with the organisation.” She looked around for somewhere to flick the ash from her cigarette, but it appeared Narcissa didn’t smoke either. “Filthy habit, I really should give up.”
“Allow me,” Oliver said, and taking the cigarette from her hand, he stubbed it out on the windowsill and Vanished the scorched mark. Then, as she turned away from him, he deftly pocketed the stub.
“Okay, so you’ve been here for three days, and Miss Greengrass has been acting oddly for “ how long?” he asked, turning his attention to Draco.
“Uh ... well, shortly after they arrived, I suppose. I put it down to nerves,” Draco replied. “She was very moody and ... oh -” He broke off and then smiled. “That wasn’t Astoria, was it? You think it was Pansy.”
Oliver nodded. “And if that’s the case, then she’ll have needed Astoria nearby. You can make Polyjuice Potion in bulk, but once it has the hair added, then it has a distinctive odour. Parkinson could have smuggled in the untreated potion pretty easily, pretending it was juice, but she’d need a fresh supply of hair.”
He didn’t need to ask where Astoria’s room was; Draco and Daphne had leapt towards the door and were halfway down the landing before he caught up with them, having first secured the crime scene with a Sealing Charm on the door.
“It’s locked!” Daphne shrieked, hammering her fists frantically on the door.
“Charmed shut,” Oliver replied grimly. “There’s only one thing I can try. Stand aside.”
Draco was throwing himself at the oak door with little impact, his voice cracking as his desperation increased. Pulling him away, Oliver shoved him towards Daphne, and then, closing his eyes, he pretended that the door was only a Quaffle that he needed to block. He shoulder charged it, over and over, until he felt something crack. Standing back, he kicked with all his might until finally the door gave way.
Bloody, bloody hell! he thought. That has not helped my shoulder at all. She better be in here.
“Where is she?” Daphne asked, her voice a whisper.
“Trunk,” replied Draco, pointing to the large ornate painted wooden box at the end of the bed. He ran over, and using his wand, started to unlock it. “Pansy was fascinated by the story of Mad-Eye Moody being kept prisoner. It would have appealed to her twisted mind to do the same thing.” He gasped when the final bolt slid open. “Oh gods, what has the sick bitch done to you?”
Peering over Draco’s shoulder, Oliver saw Astoria Greengrass slumped at the bottom of the crate. Naked, she tried desperately to turn over and cover herself, but with her hands and feet tightly bound and a gag in her mouth, she was powerless. Swiftly, Draco pulled off his robes, and threw them down to her. Then ordering Oliver to ‘close his sodding eyes’, he very carefully lifted his sobbing fiancée out of the trunk.
At once, Daphne untied her sister’s hands and feet and removed the gag. “You’re safe, Tori,” she soothed. “We’re here now.”
Astoria jerked away violently into Draco’s arms. “Get away from me,” she croaked. “You put me in there, you bitch!”
“What?” Daphne yelped and reached out her hand to touch Astoria’s face. Her sister flinched and huddled close to Draco’s bare chest. “No, no, Tori, it wasn’t me. I’d never hurt you.”
“Miss Greengrass,” interjected Oliver. He crouched down on the floor, but made no attempt to prise Astoria away from Draco, correctly judging that he was the only person she appeared to trust. “I’m Oliver Wood. I’m a Law Enforcer. Are you up to answering a few questions?”
“It can wait!” Draco snapped. With one hand, he stroked Astoria’s hair, wincing when he reached the parts that had been shorn close to the scalp.
Pansy Parkinson had not needed to shave Astoria’s hair, Oliver mused. A few strands would have sufficed. The Zeitgeist Girl, beloved by the newspapers, was an unrecognisable mess.
“Malfoy, you can stay with your fiancée, but it’s imperative I speak to her before the other guests have a chance to get their stories straight.” He turned and stared at Daphne. “You, Miss Greengrass, will stay in this room, also.”
Daphne nodded, but said nothing, seemingly in shock at her sister’s assertion that she’d been the one responsible for her incarceration.
“Astoria,” Oliver began, “why do you think your sister locked you in the trunk?”
“Because I was arguing with her when it happened,” Astoria replied, her voice shaking. “I’m not stupid, you know. Daphne said she had to speak to me, something about Draco’s mother’s diamonds. She wanted me to wear them, said it would be good publicity. I said I wasn’t interested because ...” she smiled apologetically, “I don’t really like them; they’re rather ostentatious.” As she shivered, Draco held her closer, running his hands up and down her arms to warm her. Astoria swallowed, and after a sideways glance at her sister, continued, “Daphne was furious. She hexed me, and then the next thing I remember, I was locked in that trunk.”
“Daphne?” Oliver said, turning to face her. “Do you want to say anything?”
“It wasn’t me,” Daphne replied. “Tori, there is no way I’d ever hurt you like that. And as for the diamonds ... you’re right. I wouldn’t suggest you wearing them. They’re not your style for one thing.”
“Jealousy is a terrible thing,” Oliver remarked, his eyes boring mercilessly into Daphne. He wanted to believe her, but the evidence of the cigarette wouldn’t leave his head. And Pansy Parkinson would have needed an accomplice to get in here in the first place. “Your sister is a beautiful woman. All that publicity must be galling.”
She met his gaze. “How ungallant, Wood, suggesting that I’m not beautiful. I thought you Gryffindors were supposed to be chivalrous.”
“I don’t believe in labels, Miss Greengrass,” he replied. “Sorting has no place in the real world.”
Rummaging in her bag, Daphne brought out a slim, silver case and lit a cigarette. “The Zeitgeist Girl was my idea,” she said after taking a drag. “The ‘spirit of the times’. Reconciliation for our world. Astoria suits the role perfectly because she was too young to be caught up in the Battle and the politics afterwards. But it was only a role. Like you, I think Sorting us all into neat little categories has never been a good idea.”
Oliver was impressed. If she was lying, she was bloody believable. If, however, she was telling the truth, then Daphne Greengrass was a witch who shared his ideals.
“Astoria, when did this conversation take place?” he asked, his mind ticking over and trying to join up the dots.
“Uhm, shortly after we arrived,” Astoria replied. “Draco was downstairs, fixing drinks for the men. I was getting changed for dinner.”
“Then that definitely wasn’t me,” Daphne replied. Coolly, she ran her fingers through her hair. “While you were getting ready, I was waiting for Marcus,” her eyes flicked to Oliver, “in his bedroom.”
He raised one eyebrow but didn’t answer her. Instead, he stood up, and walked over to the trunk, wondering if any further clues could be gleaned from Astoria’s entrapment. He reached down and from the bottom of the trunk picked up a single black hair. “It wasn’t your sister who attacked you, Astoria, but someone taking Polyjuice potion.”
“It was Pansy Parkinson,” muttered Draco. “But don’t worry, she won’t hurt you again.”
Oliver turned back to look at the three of them. Astoria, at the centre, had now accepted Daphne’s hand. She was smiling, despite her tears, and he could glimpse the spirit of this girl that had captured the imagination of the magical world.
“Miss Greengrass,” Oliver murmured as he opened the bedroom door. “I think we need to tell your parents that you’re still alive.”
Assiduously helping her to standing, Draco walked with Astoria to the landing, only realising when he was there that she was wearing his robes. “Let her get changed, Wood, all right?” he said softly and smiled gratefully when Oliver nodded.
“How did you know about the murder?” Oliver asked Daphne as they waited in the landing for Astoria and Draco. “You sent that owl very quickly.”
“Is this where you arrest me?” she replied sarcastically then shrugged. “I heard Draco arguing with ... well, I thought it was Tori ... so I came to see what was happening. I bumped into Draco at the top of the stairs, and we had this rather heated conversation.” She paused as she thought back to earlier that evening. “I know The Prophet thinks Astoria’s being forced into this marriage, but she isn’t. Not even with the baby on the way. For some unfathomable reason, she really loves Malfoy.”
“Unfathomable? I thought all you Slytherin girls liked Draco.”
“Tut-tut, Wood. I thought you didn’t approve of labels,” she said, smirking. She shook her head. “Anyway, I had an argument with Draco then went to see my sister. That’s when I saw her on the hearth.”
“And she was dead?”
“Yes,” Daphne replied. “I checked, and she wasn’t breathing. Then I ran out the room and was sick in the bathroom.”
“Where were you when you heard them arguing?”
“In my bedroom,” she said, adding in a bored tone, “Marcus had just left.”
“So you have no alibi?” he countered, ignoring her insinuation.
“I also don’t have a motive,” she replied. “I loved my sister, and although I detested Pansy, I had no idea that was her in there until she changed.”
But you have opportunity, he thought, and there was that cigarette butt.
“Were you smoking when you discovered the body?” he asked.
Daphne shook her head. “It’s a filthy habit. I am actually trying to give up, but the stress of tonight.... Well, you know all about that sort of thing, I expect. Quidditch players must need a great deal of stress relief.”
He was saved the bother of a response by Draco and Astoria emerging from her room. Now wearing a simple dress, but with her hair plaited in a thick braid down the side to disguise Pansy’s harsh haircut, she looked far more vulnerable than he’d ever seen. And in that moment, as Draco took her hand in his, Oliver saw, quite clearly, why Malfoy was drawn to her, and it had nothing to do with her status.
“Before we go downstairs, could you tell me who is staying here?”
“Apart from myself and my father,” Draco answered, “there’s Astoria and Daphne’s parents, plus Flint who seems to have turned up for the ride.” He smirked as Daphne scowled at him. “Gregory Goyle arrived late this morning.”
“Where is he?” Oliver demanded. “I haven’t seen him anywhere.”
“Goyle had rather too much to drink,” Daphne replied scornfully. “He carried on after lunch, and was last seen being helped into his room by a house-elf. I expect he’s still sleeping it off.”
“And no one else is here?”
“No,” Daphne replied. “Most were due to arrive tonight, but Lucius cancelled everything as soon as I told him I’d sent the Ministry an owl.”
The four of them walked down the stairs together, but Oliver lagged behind not wanting to intrude. He had no place here, except as the investigating officer, and in truth he’d never felt a need to belong. Of course, he’d never been part of this set, but even in his Quidditch playing days he’d not been a part of a particular group. His focus had always been the game, and not the periphery. Oliver watched as Astoria entwined her hand further into Draco’s, and his eyes widened as a realisation hit him.
“Astoria, do you still have your engagement ring?”
“What?” she stared at her hand and shook her head. “No, it was a bit loose so I took it to the jewellers in Diagon Alley to have it made smaller.” She bit her lip. “I was supposed to pick it up this afternoon.”
That explains the gloves, Oliver thought. Pansy hadn’t counted on Astoria not having the ring and had no idea where it was.
“One last thing,” he called, just before they were about to enter the dining room. “Was Pansy invited to your party?”
“Merlin, no!” Daphne replied. “She used to go out with Draco and, after that, Marcus. Pansy Parkinson was not welcome here, at all.”
Zeitgeist by Equinox Chick
Chapter Endnotes: Teh plot thickens ... or perhaps it doesn't.