Title: His One Unforgivable Sin
Author:
Prompt: #96 - A/U. In a world where Muggle-borns are the "lower class", Hermione Granger works for Madam Malkin's as an apprentice. When pure-blood women who have bought dress robes from Madam Malkin's die mysteriously, Draco Malfoy starts the investigation, and Hermione is his first suspect.
Fic Word Count: ard. 12900.
Rating: NC-17 (MA)
Warnings: Physical abuse, Explicit Sexual Situations - Dub-Con/Non-Con, Forced Orgasm, References to murder, Blood-purity prejudice, Strong Profanity, Unrequited love, Alternate Universe.
Spoilers: none
Summary: In a world where Muggleborns are the lower class, Hermione Granger works for Madam Malkin's as an apprentice. When pure-blood women who have bought dress robes there are murdered, Draco Malfoy, Chief of Aurors and son of Minister, starts the investigation, and Hermione is his first suspect.
Author's Notes: So this fic might just undergo a revision 2.0, but we'll see about that later. The end of the story might seem a tad abrupt, but in fact, I had the whole storyline planned out - then all of a sudden I had a lot to do and couldn't quite finish as I wanted. That's why the intended end of story is under the "spoilers", so don't read it before you've read the fic. As I said, could have done better but as it is, I deemed this good enough to be submitted, so please give me your advice. I thank hpbeta for her betaing help, and I loved this fest- next year I'll try to finish my fic as I want to!
Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This work of fiction/art was created entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

EDIT. Thanks so much RZZMG for this fest and for betaeing each and every work on board, including this one- fantastic job! See you next year for the 2015 edition!

Author's Notes: after submitting this to the fest, it waited a moment in my computer. There will be a sequel to this, called Her One Unrelenting Memory. I do hope you'll like it.

.XX.

Draco Malfoy strolled up to the shop, his silver-lined, black cloak billowing out behind him, face carefully expressionless. He looked like a man on a mission ‒ and indeed, he was.

People walking in the street averted their gazes. No-one wanted to cross Lord Malfoy the younger, Chief of MLE, son of the terrible Lord Lucius Malfoy, Minister of Magic, and of the formidable Lady Narcissa. Word around was Draco was even more cunning, and more cold and murderous than his parents.

.XX.

In the world of fear and murder that Abraxas Malfoy, the Minister before Lucius, had established, there was only one true law: pure-bloods were born to rule, half-bloods supported the pure-blood reich, and Muggle-borns... well, they were fit only to live and die in service to their masters.

It was true, however, that a few, select Mudbloods actually managed to scrape a living away from the streets, with the most intelligent of them able to find an apprenticeship and serve a half-blood boss, or to labour for a pure-blood house. They couldn't have their own businesses, of course, and they remained at the bottom of the social ladder, but they were paid a small salary and didn't have to beg for a living.

.XX.

Apparently, one man on the street didn't know the MLE's Department Chief by sight, much to his misfortune. A beggar, wrapped in a thin blanket, struck out when Draco marched past him, and seized the blond man's wrist. "Please, sir, charity," he moaned. "Please, I'm hungry, sir."

Lord Malfoy whipped around, disgust painted across his handsome features as he stared the man down. In the next second, his wand tip was pushed into the beggar's throat.

"Do you know who I am, fool?" growled Malfoy. "Do you know what torture awaits those Mudbloods stupid enough to even dare to breathe the same air as a pure-blood ‒ minemost of all?"

The man yelped and let go of Malfoy's wrist as if he had burnt himself. He whimpered. "I'm...I'm sorry sir! Please, I wanted only‒"

"To plead is a sign of weakness," replied Malfoy with a cold snarl as he released the beggar. "In our society, only the strong are fit to survive. Too bad you'll learn that lesson the hard way. Avada Kedavra!"

The beggar froze in a flash of green light, and slumped to the ground. Dead.

Lord Malfoy sheathed his wand in its holster and continued along his route, unmoved by his murder. If any spectators were appalled by his killing a man in the street, they quickly looked away when he turned his gaze on them. No-one would admit they'd seen him kill, if asked about it later. It was the way of things.

.XX.

Lucius Malfoy was a corrupt Minister.

He'd married a corrupt wife, who had herself birthed and raised a corrupt son.

It was a proud tradition.

.XX.

Only seconds after killing the poor fool who had dared speak to him ‒ worse, touch him (damn, now he would have to burn those cuffs to rid his perfect, pure-blood self of those ugly Mudblood germs... a pity, as he'd liked those cuffs), Draco brushed off the incident and continued on his way to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

Madam Malkin was a short, plump, respectable half-blood witch who had received from Abraxas years ago the right to start her own business. Half-bloods who wished to do so had to have a special license signed by the Minister. It was the most luxurious apparel shop in Diagon Alley, and the most expensive clothier in England. Draco, as well as several other pure-bloods he knew, were tailored in this place. Thus Draco Malfoy knew well the proprietor and the shop's irreproachable reputation ‒ which is why he was going himself to see Madam Malkin, as the day's matter was very serious indeed.

A soft bell tingled above the door as Draco stepped into the shop. Keeping his gloves on, he waited patiently as Madam Malkin bustled out of the shop's storehouse, her pretty round face white with shock.

"Lord Malfoy, Milord," she curtsied. "Thank Merlin you are here! Oh, it is terrible, Milord...such a nice girl too...and one of my best customers."

Draco tipped his head slightly in respect, and said, "I will have to ask you a few questions, Madam. Do you mind?"

"Not at all, Milord. If you will."

He followed the hurried, plump woman to the little room next to the main room, where a table, three chairs, and a coffee pot awaited them. Malkin served them, then sat across the table, looking worried.

"Now," Draco began, a quill and parchment magically appearing in his hands. "I must know what happened, exactly."

"Well," Madam Malkin replied, "yesterday, Daphne Greengrass was our last customer of the day. We stayed a little over the closing hour to serve her, as she was trying on a new dress she needed for Miss Parkinson's engagement ball next week. We talked a bit, and I served her some cognac and biscuits. You know how I do such things."

Draco nodded silently, jotting down notes.

"So, at half past seven, Miss Greengrass left. I closed the shop with Hermione's help, and at eight o'clock, I let my helper go as well. At eight-fifteen, I locked up and left and...and...and that's when I found Miss Greengrass in the shop's back yard!"

"She was dead?" Draco inquired.

Madam Malkin, chin wobbling, nodded. "Y-yes. Her body had been flung behind the bins and...she had been stabbed...through the heart. That's all I know."

Draco sighed and thought about it. Daphne had been a good friend of his. Worse, she was Astoria's older sister, and Astoria would be his wife in three months time. With Daphne's murder, however, they would probably not marry for another year or so ‒ not that Draco minded the delay, as their marriage was one of convenience. Still, he realised that he would have to comfort his fiancée through this heartbreaking ordeal.

Madam Malkin had called the Aurors the prior evening. He hadn't been told. Thus, when Malfoy had entered his office that morning at seven, the news had hit him hard. He had notified his father straight away, then had marched off to question the upset shopkeeper.

"You spoke of a 'Hermione'?". He hesitated on the name. It sounded old-fashioned.

"Oh, yes! Hermione Granger. She's my apprentice ‒ a Mudblood, but Merlin bless, she is one of the most intelligent people I've ever met. Clever and crafty, too. She came at six of the clock, as usual, to clean up and ready the shop for the opening hour at seven."

Malfoy's brain whirled. He'd never seen this girl, despite coming often to Madam Malkin's. Shopkeepers did not put their Mudblood apprentices under their customer's noses, though, so as to not offend them, so perhaps that was why.

Draco hated Mudbloods.

"Does this girl leave by the front door of the shop, or by the yard in the back?"

Madam Malkin served them another cup of tea. "By the yard, of course. When we close up, we lock the front door, so both of us leave by the back."

"And Daphne, which exit did she use?"

"The front."

"I see. Did you, at any point, hear anything unusual?"

Madam Malkin scrunched her face as she turned inward, deep in thought. "Now that I think of it...Daphne had said that she would be waiting for a friend outside later. And at one point, I did hear two women shouting back there. But that may have been the neighbours, too. They're always loud in their bickering."

"Right, now I realise that you might be slightly...fond... of your Mudblood," Draco said this with disgust, "like one would be of a pet, I'm sure, but do you at all believe it possible that Mudblood Granger could have committed this crime?"

"Hermione murdered Miss Greengrass?!"

"Yes, that's what I mean."

"No, I don't believe so," Madam Malkin firmly replied. "You see, Hermione has no like for Pures, true, but she is also one of the softest, nicest people I've ever met. She truly believes that everyone deserves a chance. She'd not be able to kill anyone, nor hurt them for that matter. She abhors violence."

Draco bit back his anger. The woman actually spoke of her apprentice as she would of a true human being! "Madam Malkin," he tried again, conciliatory, "you have just certified that your Mudblood has made her dislike of pure-bloods known to you. You further testified that she left only a bit after Miss Greengrass, who was waiting outside for a friend, and that you'd heard shouting from the same location. You claimed that you left soon after that, and that was when you'd found Miss Greengrass' still warm body in your yard ‒ the very path your Mudblood Granger took upon leaving your establishment. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

Madam Malkin's jaw went slack, and her eyes opened wide. "No...no! Hermione wouldn't...couldn't!"

"You would not be the first, nor the last well-meaning person to adopt a traitorous Mudblood apprentice," Draco replied. "Some Mudbloods have a gift, you see: they manage to utterly blind people to their faults, like having sand thrown in one's eyes. Clearly, your Mudblood tricked you into believing that she was as sweet as a lamb and as soft as a spring breeze, but all along, she was hiding a terrible monster under her filthy skin."

"I still don't think that Hermione would have done something like that," Madam Malkin boldly countered his rendition. "I'm sorry, Milord, but I don't."

Draco flashed the woman a tight, humourless smile. "We'll see, won't we?"

.XX.