back to Snape.
"It's not looking good, is it?" Draco said to his Head of House. Hermione remembered then, that they were talking about his cousin, and the feeling of wretchedness increased.
Snape was markedly more polite in his reply to his godson. "The Headmaster takes personal issue with the fact that two members of Ministry Law Enforcement should go missing on school grounds. He is assisting Alastor Moody with the investigation."
"Dumbledore doesn' t know about us, does he?" Hermione asked. Dumbledore knowing was almost as bad as Harry and Ron knowing.
"He does not," Snape confirmed. He looked at Draco. "Your father contacted me after you returned with Miss Granger from Malfoy Manor," he explained.
Draco was surprised. "You speak with him via Floo fire? I didn't realise he had that luxury."
"A luxury for him, to be sure. Not so much for me," Snape replied. Hermione thought there might have been amusement in his voice, but it was probably her imagination.
"Who else knows?" Draco asked, with a frown. That was going to be Hermione' s next question.
Snape answered without hesitation. "Professor Lupin. As you are aware, his senses are considerably keener than the average human's. He was able to detect the workings of the spell on the both of you, during last Wednesday's lesson."
The thought that Lupin had quite literally 'sniffed them out', was alarming. "Would anyone else pick up on it that way?"
"I doubt it, Miss Granger."
"It was a foolish mistake, sir," Hermione said. "Believe me. Under normal circumstances-"
Snape's hand shot up into the air, in a pale blur. "I do not require or wish to endure an explanation. That is not why I asked to speak with you. Your documented, continuous disregard for rules attests to the fact that you both think you are old enough to get yourselves killed. Merlin knows you are foolish enough. My only concern is that you usually choose to exercise this disregard during school hours and that your recent outing to London just happened to coincide with a murder."
Draco swore. Snape let it slide.
"The Dark Mark in Knockturn Alley. Are you saying someone was actually killed this time?"
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, the epitome of considerate patience, "unless you can think of some other product of murder?"
"Who was it?"
"The identity of the victim is not known as yet. Was your meeting with the Fida Mia expert fruitful?" The change in topics was swift, if not very smooth.
Snape didn't need to wait for an answer. The scowl on Draco's face and the pronounced blush on Hermione's, was answer enough.
"I see, that is indeed unfortunate." Snape sighed. Folded his arms, and then sighed once more. "There isthere is something else that I need to tell you."
They waited.
Draco was speechless. He had never seen his godfather stuck for words. He turned to glance at Hermione and noted that she too was staring at Snape as if the man had just announced his fondness for the colour pink.
"Draco," Snape began. "It's about your mother."
Something heavy and cold materialised, and then descended in Draco's stomach.
"What about her?"
"It was reported on the front page of yesterday's Daily Prophet, but I suppose you haven' t had an opportunity to read the paper yet? No. No, of course you haven' t." "Sir?" Draco prompted, when Snape didn't continue.
"Draco, I am truly sorry to be the one to tell you this. Sorrier than I can say."
"Tell me what?" Draco demanded.
"Your mother is dead." The announcement was delivered in a dispassionate, matter of fact tone. "She died some three months ago. The original finding was suicide, and there has been a lengthy investigation since that time. The details of the case have been kept closely guarded."
'Closely guarded' was an understatement. Hermione's hand came to her mouth. The shock was enormous, but the sudden tightness in her chest was what stole her breath away. She had experienced a similar sensation when Draco had been knocked unconscious by the rogue bludgers; except then, there had been a strange, cold void; an indicator that something untoward had happened to him. Now, she was picking up a torrent of dark emotions streaming from him.
She couldn't tell the hurt from the anger or the shock. For a few moments, her vision was a black, swirling mess. It was almost physically painful.
He didn't move, didn't speak. He just continued to stare at the carpet by the fireplace. She wanted to walk over to him and hold his hand, but she felt weighted down to her chair by the force