Hermione was waiting for him to say something. He knew it. Harry and Ginny probably were too; their gaze had been fixed on him for the last few seconds, or perhaps it had been minutes--he couldn't really tell anymore. It seemed as if no one had moved, or even breathed, since Harry had spoken. Ron could feel their stares, pressing over him with the weight of a herd of Hippogriffs.

Certainly an accusation as bold as the one Harry had just made deserved some kind of a reaction. The problem was, though, Ron didn't exactly know just what that reaction should be.

He would be lying if he said he had never once entertained these thoughts in his head. Hell, no one would ever believe him if he actually tried to convince everyone that the thought of Malfoy being involved in something illegal hadn't been a recurring fantasy of his since childhood. But to hear the words said aloud, to hear them from Harry's own lips--Harry, the sensible one, the level-headed one, the rational one--was, he had to admit, more than a bit unsettling.

"Well?" Harry said, at last breaking the tense silence.

Ron raised his head to look at him. "Well what?"

"What d'you mean, well what?" Harry said. "I've just told you something that--let's face it--you've probably been wanting to hear since you were eleven, and you haven't any kind of comment? My God, I would have thought you'd be shouting from the rooftops-"

"Oh yes, what was I thinking," Ron cut him off sharply. "I mean, the idea of Malfoy taking my son should have me jumping for joy, shouldn't it?"

Harry took a step back, as if Ron's words had had the impact of an actual physical blow. "That... wasn't what I meant, Ron-"

Lovely, thought Ron. Here my best friend is trying to help me, and I'm treating him like a piece of rubbish. Nice job, Weasley.

"I'm sorry, mate," he muttered. "This isn't..."

He sighed, coming forward on his elbows to run his hands through his hair. His head had never felt so bloody heavy as it did in that moment; he let it fall into his hands, and closed his eyes. The throbbing in his head didn't stop.

"This isn't a conversation I ever thought I'd be having..."

A few moments later, he felt Hermione's arm slide across his back, the other hook around his chest, and her head come to a rest at the crook of his shoulder. She held him like this--just held him, without saying anything--for a while, before she began to caress his back with gentle circling motions.

God, he never wanted her to let him go.

Harry sighed, crossing the room to come near the bed where Ron and Hermione sat.

"I know this can't be easy, Ron," he said quietly. "I'd be lying if I told you I know what you two are going through, but... you have to know I'm not trying to make things any more difficult than they need to be."

"I do," Ron said, then he looked up at him. "I do know that. But think about what you're saying, Harry. These are serious accusations you're making. He's not exactly some peon in the Ministry. He's got a lot of power, and a lot of friends in high places. For us to even suggest something like this--you know what a bloody mess it would be if we couldn't prove it."

"But you have to admit," Harry said, "this is some pretty startling evidence."

"What evidence??" Ron said. "We're talking about yearbook that's got his picture marked, and some stupid, incredibly insensitive remarks, but that's it! Harry, I know he's got it in for the Muggle born, but you're talking about children being taken here, and calling someone a Mudblood is a long way's off from doing harm on them!"

"Don't you even remember what his reaction was, Ron? He wasn't exactly feeling sorry for those families, was he? You almost killed him with your bare hands for what he said-"

"For God's sake, Harry! I'm not going to bring him in for questioning just because he didn't show the proper response! He may be a callous bastard, but that doesn't make him a kidnapper..."

Harry clearly was not planning on giving up this argument soon.

"And what about the fact that he was conveniently on holiday when Slava Krum and Sian Price were taken?" he said. "What about that, Ron?"

"Harry..."

"We both know how easy it would have been for him to have apparated into the Forbidden Forest and waited for Jack to run in there. There would have been plenty of time for him to do it, too."

It made sense. It made a helluva lot of sense. Harry was making too much sense.

Blimey, what was wrong with him? Hadn't he spent the better part of his years at Hogwarts predicting that one day Draco would finally show his true colors and do something that would leave no doubt what his inclinations were? At times, both Harry and Hermione had even thought that his fixation on Draco's inner evil bordered on obsessive. He had never stopped believing that Draco was destined to follow in his no-good father's footsteps, and yet, now that he was confronted with this, just why did he find himself resisting this idea so much?

It was Hermione who spoke first.

"Harry, you're asking us to believe that Malfoy could have done so horrific under everyone's noses... You're asking us to believe he would risk everything--his career, his-"

"Don't you see??" Harry said. "Someone has been luring these children into their clutches! I've heard it!! I've heard that voice saying, 'I knew you'd come...' Someone had to have been messing with their heads--it's why they all sleepwalked before they were taken, it's why they walked right into the trap... This was all a trap!!"

"He's right, Ron," Ginny said. "Why else would any of those children have willingly let themselves be taken like that? And you of all people should know what Malfoy's capable of-"

Ron let out a weary laugh. He couldn't help it; this situation was just all too bloody amusing, if he really thought about.

"Isn't this something," he said. "You trying to convince me that Malfoy is to blame. God, the universe really does have a sense of humor."

He could feel Hermione lean into him a little more, as if for support, both physical and emotional. Softly, she said, "What if they're right, Ron?"

He looked at her, his heart aching at that pure agony in her eyes. He had not seen pain like that in her in a long time, and he had once vowed he would do anything to make sure he'd never see it on her face again.

"If he knows anything about where all the children are... don't you think it's something we should at least pursue?"

At length, Ron let out a sigh, releasing with it the weight of the world.

"All right," he said. "All right, I'll go see him. But I'm doing this alone-"

Apparently, Harry found fault with that idea. "Are you nutters?" he said. "After what happened with him the last time? You'll end up in Azkaban, for God's sake! I'm going with you-"

"No, you're not!" Ron shot back. "In case you've forgotten, Harry, this is my investigation. My lead. It's my responsibility."

"Ron, maybe he's right," Hermione said. "You know Malfoy'll do his best to be a lousy git to you-"

He turned to her and cocked his eyebrow. "Are you saying you don't trust your husband to hold his temper in check?"

It was clear that Hermione was trying to suppress a smile of her own. He watched her lips fighting that tell-tale curve, then at last, she said simply, "Be careful."

Ron kissed her on the cheek without saying anything, then started to make his way towards the door.

"I mean it, Ron Weasley!"

He turned around one last time and flashed one of his well-stashed grins.

"Love," he said, unable to resist a wink as he caught her eye, "I always am."

The girl at the front desk seemed to be expecting him. Or at the very least, Ron was certain she'd been informed of who he was, and instructed on exactly what to do, should he show up uninvited, because she seemed to have a ready answer for him when he arrived.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but I'm afraid His Excellency is indisposed at the moment. He's not in his office..."

"I see," Ron said. "Well then, you won't mind if I wait here until he gets back then?"

"Well... it could be a while, Mr. Weasley."

"I've got time."

The girl offered him a weak smile; he could tell she was getting increasingly nervous by the second, and trying to think of what else she could possibly say to hold him off. She had to know Ron was not about to go anywhere anytime soon.

"Er, perhaps... we could schedule an appointment for when His Excellency is... available..."

Ron narrowed his eyes. He could have sworn he'd heard a noise from just inside Draco's office--not that he ever doubted for a second that Draco was not in there the whole time.

"You're sure His Excellency can't squeeze me in now?"

"I'm sorry, sir-"

The door swung open. The girl actually squeaked at the sound of it--she sounded like a bloody mouse, thought Ron--then quickly got up, as if she'd actually be able to cover Draco somehow if she just stood over him. Never mind that she happened to barely come up to his shoulder.

"Lucille, could you-"

At the sight of Ron, Draco stopped. Ron made sure to make the moment even more memorable by giving him a little wave. That didn't seem to go very well.

If Draco had been embarrassed of having been caught in a lie, however, he didn't show any signs of it; he merely threw his usual smirk at Ron and narrowed his eyes.

"Well," he said smoothly, "to what could I possibly owe the pleasure of this?"

"I tried to tell him you weren't available, sir, but-"

"Yes, Lucille here seemed to be under the impression that you weren't in," Ron said. "And yet, here you are. Fancy that..."

"So I am. Unfortunately for you, I'm not in the mood to talk, Weasley-"

He tried to close the door, but Ron caught it in just in time and pushed it back open.

"Hmm, that's really too bad, Malfoy," he said. "Because I was so looking forward to talking to you."

He brushed past Draco and casually walked in, hearing more of Lucille's squeaking as he did.

"Sir!! Should I call security-"

"No, don't bother," Draco said. He glared at Ron, who only responded with a triumphant grin. "Trust me--this won't be long."

He slammed the door shut behind him, causing a small quake to rumble through the room when he did, then strode over to his chair.

"All right, talk fast," he said, "because if you're not out of here in five minutes, I will throw you out."

Ron leaned over the desk, delighting at the sight of Draco leaning back slightly as Ron towered over him. "If you think your fancy title intimidates me, Malfoy," he said, "you're madder than I thought." Satisfied that he seemed to have Draco sufficiently flustered, he abruptly pulled back and grinned wickedly. "But you're right, this won't be long. I just came for some answers."

Draco laughed haughtily. "And how could I possibly be of any help to the great Auror now? Do you need more clues, Weasley? Really, what else do they pay you for-"

"I want you to tell me where exactly you have been the last week and a half."

If Ron didn't know any better, he would have wagered quite a sum that Draco had just twitched. But the movement was subtle and quick, for in the next few seconds, the smug, self-assured veneer returned, and he leaned back in his chair and smiled.

"I beg your pardon?"

This was one question Ron took great pleasure in repeating.

"I said," he enunciated slowly, watching the redness gather in Draco's pale cheeks as anger set in, "where have you been the last week and a half?"

"I was on holiday. Or have you forgotten already?"

"Oh no, my memory's quite intact, thanks," Ron said. "But I was wondering if your holiday happened to take you to... Bulgaria... or perhaps... Wales?"

There was a moment's hesitation before Draco responded, but if he was nervous at all, his even voice covered up any traces of it.

"What is this all about, Weasley?"

"Just answer the question."

Then came that maddening smile.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I was vacationing in the Scottish Highlands."

"And you've got witnesses to corroborate that?"

Draco laughed again, his steely eyes trained right at Ron's. "No," he said. "I wished to be alone. That was the whole point of the getaway." He leaned forward. "Don't tell me I'm a suspect in your little investigation?"

"Should you be?"

Without even blinking, he countered, "You tell me. You're the so called Auror, aren't you?"

"Damn it, Malfoy! This isn't the time for one of your games! Either you tell me the truth, or you-"

"Or what?"

He rose from the chair, then came around to the front of his desk, mere inches away from where Ron stood. Ron was still the much taller man, but Draco was no midget either. At full height, he stood nearly eye to eye with Ron, and he certainly showed no signs of intimidation whatsoever.

"I warned you, Weasley," he said. "I warned you to watch your little Mudbloods..."

Ron could have sworn that his eardrums had burst from the blood that had just gushed to his head. He had to concentrate on that pounding sound, because it was the only thing he could cling to, the only thing keeping him from reaching forward and closing his hands around Draco's skinny little throat.

Nobody, he thought, nobody speaks about my children that way...

Draco was only getting warmed up, however.

"Don't come crying to me because your boy's been taken," he said, letting out an especially infuriating laugh that made the vein in Ron's forehead throb all the more. "If you'd had the brains to figure this out on your own, maybe you could have saved him-"

"I want you to listen well, Malfoy, because I'm going to ask this only once. Did you or did you not have anything to do with these children going missing?"

The only answer he got was a smile. Was this bastard even capable of sweating at all?

"Well," Draco said, "I do believe the burden of proof is all on you--isn't it?"

The door burst open before Ron could respond, and it was probably a good thing it did, because that last remark had finally caused Ron to snap. But before he could make a move, Lucille squeezed in, followed by Ben Foster, Ron's right hand-man.

"Sir, I'm sorry," Lucille was saying, "I tried to tell him he couldn't come in-"

Foster pushed himself past her and walked over to Ron. "Sir, I was told you were here, so-"

"What the hell is going on here?" Draco bellowed. "Lucille, call security, get them both out of here, now!!"

"Foster, what's going on-"

"We just received an urgent owl from the French Ministry, sir..."

"Lucille!!"

"... A student was almost taken from Beauxbatons, but she managed to escape..."

"What??"

"The school's got her, sir! They're going to let you talk to her-"

Draco grabbed hold of Ron's shoulder and swung him around roughly. "If you don't leave my office now, Weasley-"

Ron jerked his hands off him. "Don't worry, I'm leaving," he hissed. He turned to Foster. "Wait for me in my office. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Foster nodded, then left, a scared Lucille following him closely. Ron was left alone once again with Draco, whose smugness now filled the room like a sick, wretched stench.

"Well what do you know," he said. "Seems I've got an alibi for this one. How were you planning on pointing the finger on me for this, Weasley? Or do you think I've got some more tricks up my sleeve?"

He laughed, then headed back to his desk, staring back at Ron, as if issuing a new challenge to him. But if he expected Ron to be contrite, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

"I've got a job to do right now," Ron said. "But I'd watch your back if I were you, Malfoy. Because if I find out you had anything to do with this--anything whatsoever-"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? How long have you been dreaming of pinning something on me?"

Ron smiled, then leaned in. Despite that seemingly cool exterior, he knew better. Draco was scared. And even though deep down Ron knew that Harry had probably been mistaken all along, he had to admit it was far too fun to watch Draco squirm to resist prodding just a little more.

"Why, Your Excellency," he said, "is that sweat on your upper lip?"

He straightened, then made his way to the door. It would be a hollow threat, but Ron would relish making it all the same.

"You'd better pray those children are found, Malfoy. It's the only way your name will be cleared."