Hello and welcome to my holiday adventure for 2017. This little mini-fic was written to be submitted into LightofEvolution's Advent Sunday holiday event!
Things I must include:
Three candles
The quote from Light's favorite holiday movie from 1989, "Christmas Vacation":
"I've never been treated like this in my entire life."
I'm sorry. This is my family's first kidnapping."

I just couldn't make it into a one shot. So this will be broken up into 4-5 chapters, and is dedicated to LightofEvolution.
A VERY special thank you to LondonsLegend for her hard work in finding my idiotic errors and beta reading!
Merry Christmas and happy holidays! I'll update this again VERY soon.
~A.

Chapter One: A Murder Most Convenient

"We have to get him to talk."

"Well, he certainly isn't going to do that by us binding him and scaring the wits out of him, is he?"

"Granger…"

With a forceful yank, Hermione ripped the spello-tape from the Minister's mouth, smirking over toward her partner.

"Oh my," said the Minister of Magic, flexing his tired jaw. "That's much better."

"See?" she exclaimed, gesturing to the shackled Shacklebolt. "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar."

"And you catch more criminals with spello-tape than you can trying to make friends with them."

Draco Malfoy set down his satchel, worn and bruised. There was a gash set high on his forehead near his hairline, and blood dribbled down until it dripped off his chin like rainwater after a fresh storm.

"I've never been treated this way in my entire life," muttered Kingsley.

"I'm sorry," said Hermione thoughtfully. "This is our family's first kidnapping."

"We aren't family," Draco snapped, eyes drifting down to the gold band sitting pretty on his ring finger. A quick burst of wind snapped him out of his daze, and he watched as the second candle atop the mantle went out. "We're running out of time."

"Minister, can you tell us anything about the events leading up to this evening? Anything that might help us catch Harry Potter's murderer?"

"You say that so casually," her partner grumbled.

"None of it's real," she shot back.

"That kiss was." Their eyes met. "Don't try to pretend that it wasn't."

A short while ago

"I hate Christmas parties," Draco Malfoy whispered grumpily, adjusting his too-tight tie and glaring at his female counterpart - he refused to call it a date. Dates were with people one enjoyed, and Hermione Granger was certainly someone he didn't.

"You could have declined the invite," she shot back as she blew a stray curl out of her eyes.

"Granger, I know you wouldn't understand, but I'll try to explain it anyway - and don't worry. I'll speak slowly. If I don't show up to this bloody party, I run the risk of losing face with some extremely influential people. My Auror career is built on my reputation."

"And what is mine built on, then?"

"Cheap coffee and baggy robes. Really, it's far too unsettling to think about right now."

Granger ignored his smirk, asking, "So why ask me to accompany you, if my reputation is in such shambles?"

"Easy. If I didn't invite you, I would have had to invite Helga Rowenak, and we both know she doesn't bathe but once a month. Besides, proving you and I have gotten over our childhood dislike of each other will impress, thus adding fortune to our reputations."

"I don't care about my reputation." She set her hands on her hips, accented with glitzy jewels along the bodice of her dress.

"Then why did you accept my offer to be my plus one this evening?"

Anger burned behind her eyes as she set her eyes on a tall, slim wizard with curly brown hair. "Because Donald in Accounting had the audacity to date me for three months and then ask that cow of his secretary to this event." A smoosh-faced woman with far too much cleavage hung on Donald's arm.

"So even you aren't above revenge, hmm?" Draco chuckled.

"No one is above revenge if it's a dish best served cold. And you're as frigid as they come. Besides, Donald hates your face. Says it's too pointed."

That caused the Auror to scowl. "Granger, I might despise you, but if I happen to dip you while dancing and kiss you until you go blue, don't think it's because I want to date you. It's because I'm not above revenge, either."

"Wonderful."

Together, the pair stepped inside the Ministry's ballroom, heads high and metaphorical phasers set to stun. And stun they did - eye after wandering eye traveled in their direction as they meandered around, greeting friends and coworkers.

Three years working side by side as partners in the Auror training program, and not once had they even given an inkling of romantic notice to the other. Partners in crime - or more like crime solving - yes, but nothing more. Still, even Draco could admit it was fun watching as wizards and witches whispered amongst themselves, speculating as to the relationship status between the two. They could often be spotted eating or studying together, as they found in their first year of training they made a formidable team, unmatched in skills and wit. It was their drive to be the very best at their profession that drove them to spending unnecessary time together.

At least, that's what they told themselves.

"At your eight o'clock - Helga-the-horrible approacheth," Draco sneered.

"Must you be so crass?" Hermione jeered back, setting a grin on her face just in time for Helga to tap her on the shoulder.

"Hermione!"

"Helga!"

The women smiled at one another, but it was obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes the gesture was forced.

"I see you managed to snag quite a date this evening," said Helga, winking in Draco's direction; he fought the urge to roll his eyes, and only did so because Granger dug her nails into his arm as she curled in closer to him, no doubt to prevent Helga from attempting to claim him for her own. "You'll have to tell me your secret."

'Deodorant,' thought Draco.

"Eggs," his partner blurted out.

Draco and Helga stared at her, stunned.

"Eggs?" asked the baffled other woman.

"Only I know how best to prepare them to his liking. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach - learned that from dating Ron." She said the last bit as an afterthought, smiling genuinely upon the fondness of it.

"How peculiar," said Helga. It was obvious she was searching for an excuse to leave. "Oh, look. I must go say hello to Auror Potter. Excuse me." With that, she sauntered away, albeit saddened by her lack of Malfoy to take home with her.

"Ronald...Donald...you have a pattern," Draco pointed out. "Is there even another name that rhymes? Nonald? That's just ridiculous, isn't it?"

"Oh hush, you." She swatted him on the arm. "For the record, let's try to avoid Donald at all costs, yes?"

"I thought you wanted to show off your dazzling date?"

"I would, if I had one. But, as I have you, it will be hard to miss the lack of pigment. Trust me, he'll notice you, even from here."

"Damn Granger, tell me how you really feel."

"House elves are still treated poorly." When her partner looked to her in confusion, she added, "That's how I really feel."

Ding, ding, ding! From the podium in the back of the room, The Minister of Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, clinked his dessert fork to his wine glass, gathering the attention of the crowd.

"Oh, great. The usual Christmas Party speech," Draco sighed with disdain. "When can we get to the free booze and loose women?"

"Helga is plenty loose for you."

"You're disgusting. - I bet he's going to start with the formalities. 'Thank you for coming,' and all that trite shit."

"I'd like to skip the formalities this year," began the Minister.

"Looks like you're losing your touch," Granger stated casually, grabbing two glasses of red wine as a server passed. She handed one over to Draco and smirked in a proper Malfoy fashion, which gave him chills - the good kind.

"Instead," Kingsley continued, "I'd like to try something a bit different. Our very own Auror Longbottom has been developing something special just for this event." He gestured to the side of the podium where a nervous-looking, overly dressed Longbottom stood, holding a phial of blue liquid in one hand and, no doubt, a speech in the other. He quietly thanked the Minister as he approached and set his notes neatly on the stand before clearing his throat.

"Er...thank you, Kingsley - I...I mean, Minister." With a firm nod, he turned his attention to the crowd. "Some of you might know of my lo-love of plants. I proposed a game this year to the Minister based off of a mu-muggle game my friend Harry showed me. It's called 'Clue.'"

Draco's eyebrow quirked; Granger looked positively thrilled. "Oh, I think Neville mentioned this to me last weekend!"

"So...what everyone will do is...is split up into teams of four. You - um - you drink this," Neville held up the phial, "A-And you'll be in the game. The goal is to find out, through a si-simulated experience, who killed Harry P-Potter...it isn't real, of course." He smiled at Harry out in the crowd. "B-But the first ones to figure it out wins a week-long, paid vacation to Hawaii."

"Those willing to participate, meet me in the center of the room in five minutes!" Kingsley exclaimed, already making his way to the designated spot.

"A week's paid vacation!" Granger's eyes already danced in delight. "Well, we have to enter!"

"Little snag - we have to partner up with two others. - I don't like others."

"Are you saying you like me?"

"I tolerate you."

"Then you can tolerate others."

"Ugh...fine. Who did you have in mind?" But Draco was already being yanked by his arm toward a mop of ugly red hair. "Oh, no. No, no, no - Granger - Hermione! I refuse to work with-"

"Ron. Dean."

Ronald Weasley and Dean Thomas turned their attention toward the witch calling their name.

"Oy, Hermione. We were just talking about you."

"Wanna join up for the game?"

"Malfoy and I were going to ask you the same thing."

All three men's eyes met; it was not a joyous exchange.

"Malfoy?" Weasley and Thomas exclaimed together.

"I'm not overcome with happiness at the thought either, you dolts, but you need cunning. Merlin only knows what kind of sawdust is blowing around in those quaffles you call heads."

"Draco, play nice," Granger scolded, pleading at him with her large, chocolate eyes that melted a small fraction of his icy heart. Damn her. She knew he had a soft spot for sad women - it probably had something to do with his mother on a subconscious level, but Draco didn't want to speculate.

"I will if they will."

"Does that mean if we win, we have to share the vacation with him?" Ron groaned.

"You mean when we win, Weasley. Get it together. Just don't get in our way."

"Great. I'll go sign us up," Granger smiled, already heading that way. "Come on, boys! Hop to it!"

"She's entirely too cheerful for this," Weasley groaned.

"For once, I agree with you," Draco muttered.

"Sounds like Hermione really needs this vacation," Thomas speculated, holding up the rear of the group.

"I heard that, Dean!" Granger said over her shoulder. "And yes, I do."

After sign ups, a circle of chairs were placed facing outward in the middle of the room, and all contestants were asked to remove any metal jewelry they might be wearing before taking their seats.

"Just as a precaution," explained Neville enthusiastically. "Even a drop of the root extract in this hallucinogenic serum could activate with metal, creating a flesh eating bacteria that can strip the meat off a carcass in three minutes flat."

"That's disturbing," gasped Ron.

"I think I might be sick," mumbled Dean.

Draco removed his steel-toed dress shoes immediately and tossed them as far away from the circle of chairs as he could. He heard his partner giggle next to him, and he leered over in her direction.

"Something funny?"

"Those are adorable." She pointed to his socks - shit, he'd forgotten he'd worn his festive pair with tiny dragons floating about. "Sweet baby dragons."

"Shut it, Granger."

"Everyone ready?" asked Kingsley. "The serum Longbottom is passing out will work time differently in your mind. Though we won't be able to see what you see, we will be able to deliberate who the winner is based on the color of the winner's hands. They will turn blue. There will be no room for cheating. The serum sees to that, with a hint of diluted veritaserum."

"How does it work?" asked Dean.

"Simple. It puts your mind in a scenario different from your current reality. The point of the exercise is to take away all biased notions of the people you know - you must use your detective skills and gut instincts. Aside from the four you will pair with, no one in the simulation will actually be there. Personalities will be compromised. Whatever you think you know about your friends, throw them out the window now. The goal is simple: figure out who murdered Harry Potter. Somewhere in your vision, you will see three candles. If all three blow out before you've figured out the crime, you lose the game. Are you ready?"

Hope you enjoyed this first chapter! Please leave your thoughts and go to Light's facebook page to check out more submissions for her Advent Sunday!