Author's Note: This fic was written for the Ultimate Remix, Round 10, in 2019. My sincerest thanks to my beta, eilonwy, for her super-human turnaround time, kind words, and willingness to take my fic on in addition to beta-ing two others and completing her own! Any remaining errors are my own. Thank you as well to the amazing mod team, the wonderful S.O.S.: Sam, Ook, and Sam. You ladies have been so enthusiastic, helpful, understanding, and inspiring. It's been an honor to participate in this, The ULTIMATE Remix, and I know your legacy will endure.

Now, to business.

Warnings for this fic include: Violence; Blood and Gore; Child Death; Revenge; Conspiracy; Murder.

Regarding the child death warning, the most graphic stuff is in the Prologue, then another little bit in Chapter 1.

The epigraph is a verse from the song "My Friends," which was written by Stephen Sondheim.

Prologue

Speak to me, friend
Whisper, I'll listen
I know, I know, you've been locked out of sight
All these years, like me, my friend
Well I've come home to find you waiting
Home, and we're together
And we'll do wonders
Won't we?

Three broken dolls on a verdant hill.

That was the scene as viewed from Malfoy Manor's tallest tower, sterilized by distance and dawn's hazy glow.

As the mist evaporated into a temperate morning, finer details emerged.

Porcelain faces haloed by golden blonde hair. Dew-dampened dresses of identical blue clinging to budding breasts and curveless waists, white lace frayed and dirt-stained at knobby knees. Skin pale where it should have been aglow with youth's rosy flush. Expressions frozen in soft repose, a stark contrast to their bodies' rictus, caught in the grip of rigor mortis.

The girls were beautiful, perfect, save for their cut throats. The cuts were clean, almost surgical, and deep enough to have slashed the larynx, revealing white, cartilaginous rings beneath graying flesh. Later, the coroner's measurements confirmed the obvious consistency: the length of the incisions was proportional to the size of the neck. The same spell was used on all three girls.

There was no blood.

Astoria Malfoy discovered them first. She dismounted her broomstick and, upon seeing their necks, did not bother checking for a pulse. She vomited, collapsing to heave and spit, curling her fingers into the grass and soil as if to keep her rooted. She wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve—she would burn the blouse later—and wrapped a dirty hand around her wand.

She had only ever been capable of an incorporeal Patronus, and the one she sent to the Ministry was especially weak. It took hours to arrive. The message it carried was spare with details, but dire enough for Gawain Robards to dispatch a team.

Investigators noted the communication delay with interest. Why not use her broom? Why not fly to Malfoy Manor and fire-call the Ministry? But Astoria had a gentle soul: she could not bear to leave the girls alone on the hill. Already, they were attracting insects. She conjured a breeze to keep them at bay, a decision that would become the subject of fierce debate during the trial. The Physical Trace team relied partially on insect activity to determine time of death. The disruption of natural processes resulted in less precision. The key question: was Astoria's decision born of malice, or simple ignorance?

Her husband's absence was also noted. Draco Malfoy was an alternative answer to the broom-and-Floo question, and Astoria's insubstantial Patronus could have travelled to him much faster, as lead detective Jason Hayes was quick to point out. Under private questioning, he learned the truth: Draco had not been indisposed, as his wife had so politely put it. He had been insensible. Unconscious. Knocked out and hung over from a night of heavy drinking.

A night spent away from Malfoy Manor.

Suspicion naturally fell on those with access to the estate. The three girls, identified later that day as the Nilsson sisters (Marta, eleven; Helene, eight; Sofi, four; barely survived by their parents, Josef, 46, and Karolin, 44), were Muggle residents of Wiltshire, the mixed-ability community where the Malfoy family had lived for centuries.

The non-magical community had grown over time, and the manor's residents had adapted, adding charms and wards to separate themselves from those they considered undesirable. After the search warrant was approved and executed, the property's Ward Register confirmed it: Muggles could not get within one mile of Malfoy Manor's property line without the Muggle-Repelling Charms activating. When added to the absence of blood evidence at the scene, investigators were sure that the Nilsson sisters had been killed off-site, brought onto the property, and staged.

If the murders had happened just two years before, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement might have pinned the whole thing on an ailing Lucius Malfoy and closed the case. But Lucius was dead, Narcissa had lived in France since his passing, and Draco had inherited everything. He and Astoria were the manor's only residents.

Astoria provided an instant alibi. She handed her appointments diary to investigators, rattled off her sister Daphne's Floo address, and gave a full accounting of the shops and restaurants the two had visited throughout the previous day, each claim confirmed by receipts or eyewitnesses of unquestionable credibility. In the evening, the sisters had split a bottle of wine and fallen asleep, sharing a bed like they had when they were girls. Daphne submitted sworn testimony that Astoria had not woken in the night (though, skeptics and, later, the defense counsel argued, neither had Daphne.)

All of this established before her husband had even seen the morning sun.