"Lizzie Borden took an axe,
And gave her mother forty whacks.
And when she saw what she had done,
She gave her father forty-one."
Headlines screamed with ferocity. He finally snapped. He wasn't going to live in a dictatorship anymore. It wasn't a surprise to most. What did peak their curiosity was his weapon of choice. A .22 mm caliber pistol. Twenty-nine shells left from a 60-ammo pack. Whispers spread throughout England. Even the muggles had heard.
On December 25, 1985, Narcissa Black Malfoy and Lucius Alexander Malfoy were pronounced dead.
**********
"Ginevra. You have a new case," Thomas Greene told her.
She nodded faintly as he dropped a red-flagged file onto her desk. She typed up the report on a missing witch before focusing her attention on the manila folder that screamed "IMPORTANT DOCUMENTS!" She peered inside, unprepared to face the new challenge. She gasped as a pair of smoldering gray eyes permeated through her mockingly. She hadn't seen Draco Malfoy since he graduated from Hogwarts six years ago. She read through his history. Finding nothing connected to the murder, she flooed to St. Mungo's where he was currently residing before his trial at the Wizengamot next month.
A kind elderly nurse brought her to the psychiatric ward. Her silvery gray hair bounced with energy and her cerulean eyes shimmered with vivacity. They walked down the winding corridors until they reached the last door. Ginny caught a glimpse of a disheveled man, cowering on the floor in a fetal position.
"You've got to watch out for this one. He's daft in the head, he is," the woman clucked warningly.
Ginny smiled appreciatively and thanked her. The woman took off all the spells cast onto the door and turned the knob easily, accessing Ginny to walk in.
"Press this button when you want to leave. One of the security guards will escort you out."
She thanked the woman again. The nurse scrutinized her carefully as she backed away, shutting the door softly.
"I didn't kill them," was the first thing she heard from the silence.
"That's what they all say."
He was quiet for a moment.
"Why are you even here if you don't believe me?"
"I have to know what happened."
"I told the authorities before and I'll say it again: I don't know. I wasn't there." He looked so much older than his 23 years. His slate eyes were so defeated and his once immaculate hair was in disarray. She kneeled down next to him and brushed his mane back with her fingers soothingly. She thought she heard him purr as his eyes closed for a moment before they reopened, watching her without emotion. Ginny quickly pulled her hand back like a scalded cat, chastising herself for her weakness.
"Where were you on December 25 at around 4 in the afternoon?" she asked.
"I was in my room reading, waiting until everyone came."
"Who's everyone?"
"The Malfoys, of course. It was a family get together of a sort where every bragged about their lives and such."
"Ah. Then what happened?"
"That's the thing. I don't remember. Everything just kind of blended together in my mind. I can't set my thoughts straight so the memories couldn't be released into a Pensieve."
So much for trying to prove him innocent.
"So why does the gun have your fingerprints smudged on the base?"
"I don't know, Weasley," he growled. "Why don't you tell me?"
"Don't give me that tone," she snapped, sounding eerily like Mama Weasley.
"Oh, shove off."
She huffed in indignation, not to be put out by the stupid sod.
"I'm here to help you."
"I don't need your bleeding help. No one can help me," he whispered. "Just go and live your perfect life with your perfect husband and your perfect kids and leave me the hell alone."
"You think my life is perfect? Well, I have a reality check for you, Malfoy. It's a whole lot worse than you could even imagine."
"What? Is your husband fucking another woman?"
"Where is this imaginary husband of mine you keep bleating about? Why didn't he help me when my brothers died? Why didn't he keep me from hurting when my father passed on? Why didn't he comfort me when Delia went away?" she cried.
He looked at her as if she had gone completely insane. She didn't blame him. She swiped at her endless tears with aggravation, trying to pacify herself into a more professional mode.
"Sorry," she whispered brokenly.
"Who's Delia?" he queried.
This innocent question asked by a not so innocent man frightened her to the end of her wits.
"Sh- She's no one," she stammered.
He looked at her disbelievingly. Okay, so she sucked at lying. Was that such a horrible thing? Thankfully, he dropped the topic.
"So, Weasley… How do you plan on getting me out?"
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